Taming Maria (24 page)

'Hush!' he
whispered, gripping her even tighter. Slowly and carefully he led
her and the mare back along the path, then took another turning.
Disoriented, she had no idea where they were. All she could do was
trust him, and this took a lot of doing after what she had just
heard. Damien a traitor! Was anyone trustworthy?

Charles took
her to a clearing where a woodsman's hut stood. It was dark and
dilapidated but offered shelter. Once inside he was kissing her as
if there was no tomorrow.

No time for
explanations. He found a bed of hay in one corner and they were on
it instantly, clothing tugged out of the way, limbs entwined. She
parted her mouth for him, sobbing between the kisses, her tongue
tangling with his. She pushed back his hair, wanting to see his
face, but it was no more than a blur. Touch took the place of sight
- touch and smell and hearing.

'My darling,'
he murmured, cupping her breasts in his hands and lowering his head
to suck the nipples.

'Don't talk.
Just love me,' she entreated.

She got rid of
her skirt and breeches and opened her body to him gratefully.
Whatever game the gods were playing, at least they had granted her
this moment of bliss. He stroked over her belly, hesitating when he
discovered her shaven pubis. 'Who did this to you?' He sounded
angry.

'Damien
ordered it.'

'You were in
agreement?'

'I was
helpless to refuse.'

He spread
himself over her as if he would possess her entirely and have no
other man even look at her. She was hot for completion, but he took
his time, parting her cleft and anointing her bud, and while his
fingers worked their magic he licked her nipples, sending shocks
all the way down her spine into her groin. The dried grass pricked
her bare skin, the hut was a poor place for lovemaking, and yet to
her it was more beautiful than a palace. She was with Charles and
this was all that mattered.

He took her to
the peak of pleasure, hovering there for a second and then rubbing
her nubbin swiftly so that she tumbled over the brink, gasping and
crying out with the joy of it. Then he spread her thighs,
positioned himself above her and thrust. Maria clasped her arms
round his neck and enfolded his waist with her legs. There was
nothing she would keep from him, wanting to give him her entire
self.

How could she
ever have imagined that she was in love with Damien? And yet as
Charles pumped into her his action put pressure on her anus, a
sharp reminder of her guardian.

Then even his
memory was blotted out by the surge of physical pleasure and
tearful emotion that flooded her as Charles made her his. Her inner
muscles were still convulsing from orgasm, and they clenched around
his penis as he worked it in and out. He was beyond control now,
chasing his release and Maria wanted to give it to him, to pleasure
him as he had just done her. Faster and faster he went, weight
supported on his braced arms, head back, neck strained. Then, with
a harsh cry, he spilled his libation into Maria. She felt it jet
strongly, and then he sighed and collapsed on her, his face buried
in her hair.

It was some
minutes before he recovered and sat up, rearranging his breeches.
Then, 'What are you doing here?' he asked.

'I was riding,
and came across the chapel. Curious, I followed Damien inside and
heard him plotting. I was making my escape when you found me. I
thought you were in London. Were you looking for me?' Maria fumbled
with the buttons of her upper garments.

'No. I have
business in this neck of the woods.'

She was
disappointed, hoping he had come for her sake. 'What business is
that?'

He hesitated,
then found her hand, smoothing the fingers. 'I shouldn't tell you.
But maybe you're in danger. A warning won't go amiss.'

'Is it to do
with what I overheard in the crypt? I don't understand,' and she
recounted everything said between Damien and the others.

He sat beside
her and held her hand and listened attentively, then, 'I've been on
to Damien for some time, but have only lately discovered the ways
and means by which he carries out his operations.'

'What is your
part in all this? I thought you to be a rich young man about town.'
She nestled her head into his shoulder, breathing in the scent of
his hair.

He gave her a
squeeze. 'Capital! That's what you were meant to believe, your
aunt, too. I have studied art and intend to go on doing so, but I
also served in the army, Maria. When I left, friends in
governmental circles let it be known that they needed people like
me to try and break the spy ring. They had suspicions that there
were members of the elite involved.'

'Oh, it must
be so dangerous!' she exclaimed, clinging to him.

'Not if you
keep your wits about you. I have a first-class team working with
me. I've been putting together a dossier concerning the viscount,
but needed final proof. That's why I am here, having received
information that he is planning a landing by night very soon.'

'Let me help,'
she implored, sitting up and trying to be level-headed, pushing
away thoughts of further sexual congress, although she was more
than ready for a second bout.

He stiffened.
'I hesitate to involve you. It could put you in danger.'

'Damien won't
suspect me. He's far too sure of my compliance. I can follow him,
perhaps, eavesdrop again and convey his movements to you. Tranter
will help me. You know him. He's a groom and my maid's suitor. They
are both completely loyal, too.'

'I'm not
sure...' He sounded doubtful. 'How would you feel if Damien was
apprehended and convicted?'

'I don't want
him hurt, but if he could be persuaded to hand over my affairs to
my banker and leave the country, then I should be free to do as I
liked.' The more she thought about it, the more convinced Maria
became that what she truly wanted was her freedom.

'This might be
possible. He has plantations in the West Indies, has he not? He
could go into exile until the war with France is over. Very well,
my brave girl, see what more you can find out, but don't put
yourself in jeopardy. You are too precious to me for that.'

His words
inspired her, and the thought of adventure was exhilarating. Had
she been born a boy she was certain that she, too, would have been
a soldier, performing deeds of derring-do. Now she had the
opportunity to take part in a hazardous enterprise.

This
excitement added to that already aroused by his presence, and she
turned, put her arms round him, and urged him onto the hay again.
Her breeches came down and his were unbuttoned and their bodies
were united. Maria enjoyed it even more, for the edge had been
taken from her appetite and she could relax and go slowly. She was
the leader now, kneeling above him and impaling herself on his
upright prick. Bumping and grinding she used a finger on her clit,
adding to the powerful feeling of riding such a stallion. She came
before him, and let him roll her over and finish on top.

It was time to
go and she wanted to cry, but Charles said, 'Don't fret. I shall be
in touch with you. If I can't come then Bates will bring a message,
or my colleague, Quint. I don't think we shall have to wait a lot
longer, but it depends on the weather. If the Channel is too rough,
then the boat won't be able to sail.'

He helped her
mount and walked with her to the stables, where she bent from the
saddle to kiss him before he vanished into the darkness.

Though Maria
was convinced she would not snatch a wink of sleep, her head had
barely touched the pillow before she was plunged into dreams that
were wild and disjointed. Then someone was shaking her by the
shoulder.

She was in her
bed at Raven Towers. Emily was bending over her, the sunshine
streaming in at the mullioned windows. Maria had never been more
thankful to see her.

'Milady, wake
up. Goodness, what a noise you were making! And look at the
bedclothes! Have you been fighting in your sleep?'

'Oh, Emily,
good morning,' she muttered drowsily. It was a good morning - a
good-to-be-alive morning. Charles had found her and fucked her and
all was well with the world, until she remembered Damien's
treachery and her own promise to spy on him.

Emily plumped
the pillows at Maria's back, and set a silver tray on her knees.
The fragrant smell of hot chocolate wafted up. 'Thank you, Emily,'
Maria said, with a smile.

'All this
gallivanting about at night,' Emily sniffed, but with a twinkle in
her eye. 'What were you up to? The hem of your riding habit is
muddy. It'll take me ages to get it clean.' Her expression said,
'Do you want to tell me about it?' But Maria thought it best to
keep what she knew to herself.

She sipped the
chocolate while Emily moved about, tidying the room. Maria knew she
had to act normally. Damien must have no idea she suspected him.
She was certain that Arabella knew nothing of his schemes and was
engrossed in enjoying herself with country squires, grooms,
farmhands, or whoever took her wayward fancy. Maria had no
illusions about her aunt's morals.

She astonished
herself by her calmness at breakfast. Damien was at the sideboard
when she entered, helping himself to bacon, eggs and kedgeree. They
were alone. Arabella was not an early riser.

A mist hung
over the meadows. The large bay window had been opened wide and the
scent of roses and honeysuckle was almost overpowering. Such a
vision of peace, where the ambience was one of easy-going elegance.
The great rooms, with their writing tables, armchairs and
glass-fronted bookcases, seemed designed for gracious living, for
leisure and lounging, for light chat and lazy days.

It was a
charade!

The idea
struck Maria vividly. Up until yesterday she had given him the
benefit of the doubt, but was unable to avoid the truth any longer.
Damien lived a lie. He was no more interested in country life than
the man on the moon! It was a clever cover for his nefarious
activities. And there he stood, forking sausages onto his plate as
if he had never had a disloyal thought in his head.

As if aware of
her concentration he turned and smiled, coming across and seating
himself beside her. 'You're not eating. Can I offer you
something?'

'I'm not
hungry.' A footman paused behind her and she nodded. He tilted the
steaming coffeepot and poured the pungent liquid into her cup. The
cream jug and sugar bowl appeared at her elbow.

Maria found it
hard to pretend. She stirred the coffee, watching the cream
transform its blackness into beige, and wondered how she was going
to find the strength to do as Charles had asked. It was all very
well to talk of it when Damien was not there, but once in his
presence she found herself overwhelmed by his charisma.

'How much
longer are we to remain here?' she asked, lightly.

'Are you
missing the shops and theatres and balls?' He answered her question
with another.

'Perhaps.
There is little to do in the country.' She deliberately made
herself sound like a peevish child.

He snapped his
fingers at the footman, who stepped forward and filled his cup.
'You think so? I find it mighty entertaining. But we can't have you
dying of ennui. That would never do. I promised to take you
hunting, didn't I? Let us do it this morning.'

Maria was
startled. Damien always seemed to catch her unawares. 'But I shall
need to go to my room and change,' she prevaricated, laying her
napkin on the table.

'Don't bother
about that. Come as you are. It's a fine day and such a flimsy gown
will make me think you are a nymph fleeing from me.'

'What do you
mean?' Maria had risen, but now she hesitated, her hand resting on
the back of the chair.

He stood too,
taller by several inches, a lean, dark, masterful man. 'I mean,
sweetheart, that we are about to play a game in which you will be
my quarry. I shall give you a head start and then pursue you, my
hounds picking up your scent. We sometimes indulge in this sport,
the hunt and I, and there are several ladies who just adore being
our prey. When they are caught, and believe me they always are,
then they receive suitable punishment. Are you ready for this,
Maria?'

Several
excuses flashed through her head; she had a migraine or stomach
ache, her aunt wanted her to go calling with her, but she was aware
he would accept none of these. 'All right, I'm ready,' she said,
with impressive hauteur.

Damien bowed,
smiled and saluted her. 'Then let us go.'

She followed
him to the stable where Tranter cast a worried eye over her as he
helped her into the saddle. She was in no way dressed for the
outdoors, her muslin gown and kid leather slippers unsuitable for
riding. Damien was wearing buckskin breeches, a black cloth coat
and a three-cornered hat. He led the way after whistling up two of
his hounds. They were big animals, with slavering jaws and noses
that twitched as if already scenting a fox or a deer - or a human
being.

Maria watched
them dubiously, cursing her impetuosity that had agreed to this
rash venture.

They rode to
the spinney and there he halted and told her to dismount. She did
so, watching as he tethered her mount, then took her shawl and held
it out to the dogs who sniffed it eagerly. He handed it back to
her, and said as he took out his pocket-watch, 'Get you gone,
Maria. Run as fast as you can and put distance between myself and
the hounds. I will give you fifteen minutes start.'

I must be mad,
she thought as she broke into a quick walk. What do I hope to
achieve? Maybe I can lull him into a false sense of security, so
that he is convinced I am his creature, willing to do anything he
desires and never, ever question his actions.