Authors: Marilyn Kelly
His beloved bride. The sentiment filled her with awe.
She turned to him sprawled beside her on the wide carriage seat.
“You look very content, like a full pussycat.”
“You’re correct. I am as content as I can ever recall,” he said
with a smile.
Frankly, she could stare at him all day and never weary of
the view. Flawless features, lean but muscular physique, and his signature
silken mane all worked to create an exemplar of her perfect mate. The fact that
he was intelligent, and respected her intelligence, was a boon. Kind and
generous, brave and skillful, loyal and witty, his finer qualities abounded.
She was running out of descriptors for the admirable aspects of his person and
character, and she kept forgetting his few flaws, so minimal were they in
comparison to the whole man.
She flushed as he drew her onto his lap. “You’re my tender
fascination, Cathryn.”
“And you are absolutely enthralling, Julian.” What she
wanted now was complete immersion, and he read her thoughts. He made quick work
of her outer garments and the cool air soon reached her bare breasts.
He cupped each globe, rubbing his thumbs across the
sensitive tips. “You’re magnificent.”
He was the magnificent one, but she wasn’t about to argue.
“I need…” What? A quick shag to calm her nerves? A long shag to exhaust her?
How did one speak the unspeakable?
His low murr reassured her. “I need you too.”
She pressed against his hands and he welcomed her with a
passionate kiss that set her head spinning. Lost in desire, she barely noticed
his hands wander under her skirts until he probed her wetness and groaned. The
sensations washed over her, leading to a dense yearning deep inside her.
His eyes were heavy-lidded when he broke the kiss. “Dear
Lord, Cat, I’ll never tire of you.”
After his declaration of love at the poorhouse, she had new
confidence. She’d never made love in a carriage, but the rocking motion might
add a glorious effect. She shifted her position and straddled him. “Show me.”
“As you wish, my lady.” His grin was lopsided as he loosened
his trousers, exposing his impressive erection. “Care for a ride?”
Rising onto her knees, she poised herself above his shaft
just as they hit a bump in the road, and he entered her with a long hard
stroke. “Oh.” Thankful he’d already stretched her with his fingers, she
relished the fullness.
“Are you alright, love?”
His love, she wished he would speak the words of thousand
times. “Better than ever.” The carriage rocked gently back and forth, bringing
pleasure with every movement. His fingers found the center of her bliss and her
whimpers began. Being on top, she had control and she took full advantage. This
was what love felt like at its best, deep admiration and lust merging into a
never-ending stream of blissful sensations.
His cock was beautifully hard, and every long thrust reached
deeper, aided by the rocking of the coach. He reached places inside her rarely
touched. One angle in particular enthralled her. She clamped her hands on his
shoulders and rode him for maximum effect. This angle evoked new sensations,
heat and pleasure careening off one another and building to a fiery crescendo.
Glistening in her concentration to reach the climax, only dimly aware of his
grunts and her groans, very aware of grinding against him, all her faculties
were focused on her goal. Still clutching him, she tried to anticipate the
movements of the coach to add to her pleasure. “Yes, yes, yes.” A hundred times
yes, a lifetime of yes with this man. Her voice rose and rose until she was
panting and ultimately…victorious. Bliss exploded into molten ecstasy.
His cries followed her as he thrust wildly and emptied his
seed.
Heavy panting and the smell of vigorous sex filled the
carriage, which kept rocking, eliciting delightful aftershocks of pleasure as
they disengaged. “That was the first time I’ve ever truly made love.”
“And I can say the same.” Another kiss full of promise. She
left her skirts hiked up, just in case.
* * * * *
“Just beyond the lake lies the entrance to the grotto.”
Julian pointed out the carriage window at an oval pond nestled in the hillside
below the Burns’ Gothic mansion. “The baths are there. If we’re not too
fatigued, we can enjoy them tonight after the meal.”
Three dark turrets rose above the roofline of Gorham House,
causing it to resemble a giant trident from a distance. Covered in blackened
shingles and brown awnings, it bid a dark welcome. Even the flowers were brown,
black and blue after the killing frost of the past week, dahlias and asters
drooped lifelessly at the entrance gates.
The gloomy images did little to dampen Cathryn’s spirits. “We
have all week. I’m certain we’ll find time to explore it all.”
“There are places I’ve never seen, and I’ve been here several
times. Melina’s always adding something new.”
Her lips were bruised from hours of kissing, and she knew
her hair must be a sight, but she merely pulled her new amethyst bonnet over
the disorder as the coach approached the mansion.
When the carriage door opened, a footman held out his hand
for her. “Welcome to Gorham House, my lady.”
The red-coated footman was nearly as handsome as Julian,
only smaller in stature. He wielded a dazzling smile that even a smitten woman
such as herself could not fail to notice, and he proudly wore a cup of enormous
proportions, as if he were prepared for the ballet. The round bulb jutted out
from his breeches like a stepping-stone for a little person.
Clearly, this week would challenge her prudish side.
His eyes fell to her chest for an instant and his smile
broadened. “My name is Ethan. I look forward to serving you, my lady.”
Few men flustered her, but he managed the deed in five
seconds.
Julian followed close on her heels, and he responded for
her. “Thank you, Ethan. I shall be serving Lady Sibley this week.” His tone
held more mirth than jealousy, and Cathryn relaxed a smidgen.
“Yes, my lord.” Ethan nodded as he closed the door of the
carriage, but he shot Cathryn a wink before he turned away. Terribly improper,
but Cat couldn’t resist smiling back.
“Melina’s staff is…unusual,” Julian said as they approached
the massive wooden arch of a door, which opened as they climbed the top step.
His hand on her waist calmed her but her heart still raced
as she considered meeting the reclusive author. She’d read every one of Melina
Burns’ twenty-seven novels—some of them several times—and was an ardent admirer
of her prose. Their brief correspondence had been cordial but businesslike,
revealing little of the woman’s character. Knowing of Mrs. Burns’ purported
sexual deviancy did not detract from the fact that the woman wrote entertaining
and engrossing stories, but it did add to Cathryn’s discomfort over being acquainted
with her.
The enormous front hallway glowed an unexpectedly warm
welcome. Ivory silk paneled the walls, dozens of gilded mirrors reflected
glowing candelabras and a museum’s worth of pale statuary all gave the vast
space a light aspect Cathryn had not foreseen from the murky exterior. A wide
marble staircase circled to the second floor and led to a set of large casement
windows that seemed to magnify the late afternoon light. “I’ve seen smaller
ballrooms,” she whispered to Julian as she unbuttoned her cashmere cloak.
Two spectacularly attractive footmen with very prominent
bulges took their coats and hats as he responded, “Melina puts on theatrical
productions here. She likes to make an entrance.”
“Lord Ahlquist,” came a deep female voice from the top of
the stairs. “I thought I’d scared you away for good last time.” A petite
dark-haired woman clad in a diaphanous sea-green Egyptian-inspired costume,
with vast quantities of gold adorning her neck and wrists, drifted gracefully
down the stairs. “I’m so glad I was wrong.” The costume’s lining kept it from
being obscene, but the cut and close fit highlighted the author’s fine figure.
“Mrs. Burns offered me employment when I last saw her,” he
whispered as the attractive woman approached.
“You fit her mold, that’s clear.” Cathryn glanced around at
the score of striking servants bustling about.
“Lady Sibley, it’s an honor to finally meet you.” Mrs. Burns
dropped into a deep curtsy, and her golden headdress glinted in the
candlelight. “Fiona writes highly of you, and your articles in the press were
brilliant.” She stood slowly and faced Cathryn, coming barely to her chin and
looking closer to thirty than forty. “You are a hero, Lady Sibley.”
A suffusion of pride straightened her spine. “No, it’s you
that deserves the accolades, Mrs. Burns. I simply adore your books. They were
my chief enjoyment during my mourning.”
The author’s black eyes danced at the compliment. “Thank
you.” Her eyes narrowed briefly as she assessed Cathryn, and she extended her
hand with a smile. “Then we meet as equals. I’m Melina.”
“Cathryn.” She shook her hand with a surge of pride. To be
Melina Burns’ equal—that was a jarring thought.
“I’m relieved to see you both looking so well, after the
dire accounts in the press. You’ll want to freshen up after the long ride,”
Melina said as she glanced around. “Alouette will see you to your rooms and be
your personal maid during your stay.”
A pretty young blonde girl with large bosoms that threatened
to overflow her low bodice stepped forward and bobbed a curtsy as Melina spoke.
“Bring them to the Egypt room for drinks after they are settled.”
Julian seemed not to notice the bouncing flesh displayed for
his regard. Alouette assessed him most improperly, but he kept his eyes on his
hostess.
“Has Giles come with you?” Melina asked Julian.
“No, but he’ll follow in a few days.”
“I did scare
him
off, didn’t I?” More pride than
remorse in her voice.
Julian chuckled. “Perhaps a tad.”
“There’s a story I want to hear,” Cathryn said as they
headed towards the stairs.
“We have a few other guests joining us for dinner, mostly
locals. Alouette will show you costumes if you wish to dress the part.”
Cathryn looked to Julian for clarification. “Every night is
an optional masquerade at Gorham House. Tonight is Egyptian, I presume.”
Melina nodded as she drifted off towards a gilded door. “You
have fabulous legs, Julian, you should wear a skirt this evening.”
Cathryn burst into laughter. “Lord Ahlquist in a skirt?”
“It’s not happening, love.”
“You have the hair of a pharaoh.” Melina chimed as she
disappeared from sight.
Alouette led the way as Cathryn asked him, “What
will
you wear?”
“As much as possible. Melina’s been known to play very
naughty games when the guests thin out.”
“Oh, dear, then I should…?”
“Wear as many accessories as you can manage and don’t agree
to any amusements.”
Dinner was a prolonged affair, with a variety of succulent
game meats and poultries, as well as a dozen delectable side dishes. Waterloo
dominated the conversation, with Melina asking endless questions about the
morning’s reenactment. Cathryn did her best to keep the details interesting,
with Julian adding colorful comments, but the other diners appeared bored. He
sat across from Cathryn, and while she enjoyed the view, she felt bereft of his
touch. When had two hours ever been so long?
She was toying with a lemon tart when Melina rose and
invited the ladies to join her in the orangery. As if sensing her thoughts,
Julian made his way to her side before she left the elegant dining room.
“We need not stay up late tonight, love. Another hour.” He
took her hand and kissed her fingertips.
She noted the fatigue in his heavy lids. “Don’t linger over
your port and cigars. I promised Dr. Loudon I would care for you, and it’s been
a very long day.”
He nodded. “It seems ages ago that we entered the poorhouse.”
Melina stopped at the door and accepted a note from a
footman. A smile lit her face as she turned to the dozen guests. “Mrs. Aubrey
will join us for lunch tomorrow. She’s staying a week.” Melina laughed as she
finished reading the letter. “She’s secured a ride with Giles.” She looked up
and caught Julian’s eye. “She does love the Ahlquist coaches.”
And the Ahlquist men, Cathryn thought with a shudder.
Julian squeezed her hand and whispered, “Her personal maid
is Giles’ niece—they’re quite close.”
This was not calming her down. Fiona was deep in his life,
and that was disconcerting.
Charles Burns came to their side as his wife left the room. “This
will be an early evening, and I advise you sleep in, as well. Aubrey’s first
night here is always a late one.” He was a fine-looking man in his late
forties, small in stature but a perfect match for his wife’s petite build. “I’ll
give you the full tour in the late morning. Melina normally writes until three,
although I suspect she will stop when Fiona arrives.” He chuckled. “All hell
breaks loose when the woman walks through our door. It’s a damned fine time.”
Following the other ladies out to the greenhouse, Cathryn
sifted through her mixed emotions about Fiona. It still stung that she had sought
to entice Julian, but as Cathryn came to understand the couple’s long history,
the attempt at seduction played more in her favor. Julian had denied the
temptress, even under the influence of laudanum. Her marriage might have lasted
years before it encountered such a test, and Julian had passed.
The lessons she’d learned from the fencing master were
valuable ones—be prepared to defend yourself and your man. If she hadn’t shown
initiative and gone to Fiona’s house at midnight, Julian might have done
something terrible. Instead, she’d impressed him with her bold maneuvers—and
impressing him was very important to her.
In some sense, she owed Fiona her life, and she respected
the woman’s skills and business acumen. Financial insecurity was a terrible
drain on a person’s spirit. Fiona showed what a woman could do for herself;
such reassurance eased Cathryn’s mind. She struggled with the concept of
Fiona’s sexual deviance, and a large piece of her still thought the two women
only dear friends, misunderstood in their sisterhood. This afternoon’s
activities at the poorhouse had gone beyond endearing to full-fledged
heartwarming, a further testament to the woman’s compassionate nature.
In part due to Fiona, Julian’s character was being rapidly
revealed in layers, and Cathryn liked every one, except perhaps his temper. She
gave his outbursts little credence, as the circumstances of the past weeks were
extraordinary. Even she had been pressed to violence. His innate kindness was
evident to all, and she wanted a man who would defend her, if needed.
Oil lamps lit the entrance to the indoor citrus grove, and
the sweet scent of orange blossoms quieted her tumultuous thoughts. A quartet
of violinists began to play softly when the ladies entered—Cathryn recognized
the dulcet strains of Mendelssohn. The other four women descended on a card
table and fell into a game of whist. They had seemed a vapid lot at dinner, and
she had no desire to join them.
Melina linked arms with Cathryn. “Would you care to walk
with me?”
In ten steps, they could no longer hear the women murmuring,
and Melina asked, “What are your plans with Ahlquist?”
“We thought to stay a week.”
“And after that?”
“I have a previous marriage contract I’m seeking to annul…then
we plan to marry later this winter.”
After I conceive.
“No grand wedding?” Melina inhaled deeply of the thick
greenhouse air. “I pictured Julian being married in Westminster Abbey. He’s a
favorite of the new queen’s, after all.” The older woman chuckled. “That man
could charm the pantaloons off anyone.”
Shock froze her. “Are you suggesting he’s been intimate with
Queen Victoria?”
“No, of course not,” Melina scoffed, releasing Cathryn’s arm
to reach for an orange blossom. “Only that she paid him notice at her
coronation and danced with him twice during the evening. They share the same
charitable interests.”
That was a relief. “Oh, I see.” What a ridiculous notion.
Cathryn chastised herself for her lapse of faith.
Inhaling deeply, Melina closed her eyes for a moment to
savor the floral scent. “Well, in any case, you’ve done very well to land him.”
Cathryn thought the same thing but hearing it said aloud
made it sound a bit self-serving. “He sought me.”
“Of course.”
She leaned forward to smell the fruity blossom Melina held.
The beauty of the bloom restored her calm. “Marvelous.”
The violins shifted to a new tune, and Melina bobbed her
head in time with the beat for a few moments. She turned to Cathryn with a
smile. “Does he know about our correspondence?”
“Yes.” No need to discuss the unpleasantries.
“I confess. If I’d known Fiona and Noel were so volatile, I
never would have set this all in motion.”
Cathryn froze again. “Whatever do you mean?”
“I’d read your articles in the Oxfordshire press, and you
echoed Julian’s sentiments on universal education and public aid for the poor.
When I heard you attended the Philological Society meetings, I sent both of you
letters with my outrageous request.”
“
Murr?
” Ahh, the mystery of Melina’s motivation was
about to be solved. They walked on slowly.
“Yes.”
Cathryn spoke absently as she considered this new
information. “I rather like the word.”
“I’m glad to see it has a champion. Does Julian favor it as
well?”
“Yes. I believe so.” How deeply had Melina been involved in
pushing her and Julian?
“Excellent.”
“Are you saying that you intentionally acted as matchmaker?”
A tinkling laugh joined the violins. Melina’s small face
appeared elfin as it spread into a wide smile. “It’s my favorite sport, after
crafting a memorable scene that rests with people long after they’ve closed my
book.”
Melina Burns playing Cupid; another incredible story to tell
their children. Cathryn smiled back. “What if we had not suited?”
“Have you?”
Her spirits soared. “Yes. Rather spectacularly.”
“He is a spectacular man. And Fiona spoke of your beauty.”
There was no response to that, but the compliment nourished Cathryn’s spirit. “I’ve
long favored him over Noel.”
Cathryn glanced around to be certain no one was about. “Were
they lovers?”
Dark hair shook. “Noel beat him to her.”
She was glad she’d asked, but her curiosity was running
rampant, and Melina had answers.
They linked arms again and proceeded down the stone walkway.
“Fiona fears marriage, and Noel will never ask that of her.”
They walked several steps in silence as Cathryn digested all
this news. Another burning question slipped out. “Was it you with her in Paris?”
Too much wine had loosened her tongue.
“Oh, yes. The summer of twenty-two. We were wonderfully
scandalous.” Her proud chuckle rose above the violins. “Fiona made a fortune
that summer besting aristocrats in her studio overlooking the Seine. She rivals
Le Maupin
in technique and surpasses her in every other element.”
“
Le Maupin
?”
“Fiona’s exemplar. A French woman from the last century who
took Paris and the fencing masters across Europe on a wild romp. I have her
biography—you must read it if you plan to keep Fiona in your circle.”
“I should like to read it.” Tears sprang unexpectedly to her
eyes. “Fiona has proven to be a valuable ally this week, and she is part of his…family,
I suppose.”
“Noel is old. He will retire to York soon with his anchor of
a wife. Fiona is better off with a younger man who fills all her needs.”
Such as Julian.
Melina continued as if she didn’t sense Cathryn’s
discomfort. “For a decade, she’s wanted a child.”
“Is Noel unable…?”
“She uses the herbs, so anything is possible.”
That took a moment to sink in. “The herbs?”
“Tansy and such. I’ll provide you the recipe, it’s a fine
alternative to the sponge.”
“No, thank you.” She spoke in haste, but a vision of herself
surrounded by a dozen children quickly taunted her. It took only a few steps
before she saw what freedom such a recipe could provide when she grew weary of
bearing babies, but not weary of making love with Julian. Five children would
be lovely, and enough. “Although…perhaps…for the future.” And what of the
sponge? This was new to Cathryn but quite enlightening.
How odd to think of
stopping conception, when what I want most today is a child.
“Ask Alouette for the fertile women’s remedy.”
“Oh, dear, yes, well…thank you.”
Julian will be most
interested to know about this, which brings me back to my concern.
“Do you
want Julian for Fiona now?”
“She’s lost her advantage.” A hint of distaste laced
Melina’s melodic voice. “No, Cathryn, you have bested her.”
“By a week,” Cathryn muttered, amazed once again at her good
fortune.
“The nearest-run thing you ever did see.”
The men were discussing the upcoming horse races when a
weary Julian wandered away from the group to peruse the Burns’ literary
collection. Perhaps he would read some love poems to Cathryn later. If he
remembered correctly, the romantic poets were in the southern alcove.
Charles followed and asked Julian in a low voice, “Has she
broken off with Noel for good this time?”
He was too tired to care about Fiona tonight. “I doubt it.
He loves her, and he’ll take her back unless she bears another man’s child.”
“Is she talking about having children again?”
Julian nodded and took a thin volume from a low shelf.
Blake—no,
not tonight. Something lighter.
“She’ll be a good mother.”
He remembered Fiona’s concern for Jimmy and the others after
the reenactment. “Yes, I think you’re correct.” He returned the book and moved
on, looking for a female author.
Christine de Pisan
—excellent. I can impress Cathryn
with my French.
“Damned shame you missed your timing on her.”
Julian’s hand stopped en route to pick up the rare volume. “I
beg your pardon?”
“Everyone knows you wanted Fiona.” Charles laughed quietly. “Everyone
wants Fiona, on some level.”
There was truth in that, but Julian realized he wanted her
less now than ever before. “She does let her guard down while she’s here. In
London, she’s a terror—all fencing master and a marquis’ mistress.” He
retrieved the
Pisan.
“I’ve found a better mate. Cathryn is…fascinating.”
“That’s a good choice,” Charles said with a nod to the book.
“If you want to make her feel important.”
“She is important. To me, at the least.” He opened the text,
relieved to see modern French. Cathryn probably spoke middle French as well,
but he didn’t.
“Of course, and one of the secrets to a successful marriage
is to always make her feel she is your first priority.”
Happy with his choice, Julian leaned against the bookshelf. “Any
other secrets to share?”
Charles rubbed his chin as he thought. “I love nothing more
than to make Melina laugh. Sometimes I believe that’s why she keeps me around.
So, strive to amuse her,” he nodded with a knowing smile. “And laugh at her
jokes—that’s just as vital. If you don’t, she’ll stop laughing at yours, and
that’s a slippery slope to boredom. That’s what kills most loving
marriages—boredom. Don’t let it in your house.”
“I’ll do my best to keep tedium at bay. That reminds me, do
you have any Aristophanes?”
“We have your translation.” Charles headed for the ladder. “I
keep it up high so it won’t grow legs. Sometimes it seems that everyone in the
district uses our library.” He rolled the wooden steps away from Julian. “Over
here.”
Julian followed, very glad at this twist. Cathryn would
certainly be impressed by his work, and they would share some grand laughs over
the plays. He could take her on a picnic to the Burns’ folly and read aloud the
next sunny afternoon. “Laughter. I shall remember that when we need diversion.”
“Too many noblemen think they need to spend all their time
in serious pursuits, but it makes them dreadfully dull companions. They could
benefit from reading one of Melina’s novels every few months.” Charles
chuckled. “Rather self-serving of me to say, but it’s the truth.”
“Yes, I’ve found that my whole being takes on the shell of
whatever I’m reading at the time.” Just as Cathryn said in her article on
reading. “I have to admit, Melina’s novels make me smile afterwards.”
“I’ll tell her you said so, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course you may. I’ve told her the same myself.”