Azalea (32 page)

"Oh, my dear, dear Azalea, it is wonderful
to see you looking so refreshed! Christian has just been telling me
the most extraordinary tale… I vow, I don't know what to think! Are
my wits addled, or is it true?"

Azalea glanced shyly at Christian, who
smiled down at her in a way that made her heart skip a beat. "Yes,
Cousin Alice, it is all true," she admitted. "I am sorry that you
had to learn of it in this way. Pray believe I never meant to hurt
you—or Marilyn. Especially when you have both been so good to
me."

But Lady Beauforth was
smiling, though she still looked thoroughly bemused. "Well,
you
have
been the
sly one! But there, I mustn't scold, for Christian here has been
telling me why you never dropped a word about it before. And to
think that I was in alt over the idea of a match with Lord
Drowling!" Her ladyship dismissed that previous favourite with a
flick of her fingers.

"But we have many, many plans to make if
this information is to be made public without a scandal! However,
we can discuss that later. Christian tells me you were too tired
last night for any talk, and, indeed, I believe him, for you could
scarcely stand when he brought you home. So I'll leave you two
alone for a few moments —not that it will be improper, I suppose,
under the circumstances." She shook her head again. "But you must
have quite a lot to say to each other. My, my, what an amazing turn
of events... "Her voice trailing behind her, she bustled out of the
room.

Christian led Azalea to the white-velvet
sofa and seated himself next to her. She thought he had never
looked so handsome, with his dark hair curling around his ears—
curls she longed to touch. With him beside her, as she had feared
he never would be again, a storm of emotion swept over her. But
first, the explanations.

She met his eyes then, to discover that he
had been regarding her intently.

"Can you ever forgive me?" they both asked
abruptly, then laughed uncertainly.

"Christian, can you possibly understand why
I said nothing to you at the start?" asked Azalea after a moment.
His very nearness seemed to be affecting her ability to speak, or
even to think.

"I think so," he answered with a gentle
smile. "Are you certain you still wish to acknowledge me after the
way I treated you?"

Azalea nodded silently, her confused spirits
rising. "How did you find out? I know you honestly did not remember
anything of your visit to Virginia. Do you now?"

"I remember everything." Christian told her
about the old sailor who had visited him at the Oaks and how his
memory had suddenly returned as a result.

"No wonder you seemed familiar to me from
the first," he concluded, winding one of her auburn curls around
his finger. "And to think that that familiarity was a part of what
fascinated me about you when we first met— here in England."

He was openly laughing at himself now, and
Azalea's last fear evaporated. Miraculously, Christian seemed to be
again the carefree young man she remembered from Williamsburg
rather than the moody stranger he had been in England.

Impishly, she reached up to touch the dark
curl that had been intriguing her, and their eyes met again. Her
breathing quickened as he bent his head towards hers.

His kiss, deep and passionate, brought back
vivid memories of earlier caresses here in this very same room. She
felt that she was being transported on a golden cloud to heavenly
regions undreamed of.

She responded eagerly, wanting Christian to
have no doubt of the true state of her feelings —or desires.

"So where do we go from here?" he asked
huskily at length. Before Azalea could answer, Lady Beauforth
bustled back into the room.

"I have been thinking, my dears, and I have
a plan to put before you. What would you say to another wedding
ceremony, this time in St. George's, Hanover Square? That way we
need say nothing about your having been married all this time, for
you must realize that it will look excessively odd to
everyone."

She gazed pleadingly at them. Azalea knew
that her cousin really did want them happy and was delighted that
they had reached an understanding, but that her horror of scandal
could not be overcome.

"Dear Cousin Alice, what a lovely idea,"
said Azalea, rising to embrace her. "If Christian agrees, that
is."

"On two conditions." Both ladies turned to
look at him questioningly. "That it can be arranged within the
month, and that we spend the intervening period at Glaedon Oaks. My
grandmother has expressed a strong desire to meet my Countess."

Azalea agreed readily and they all fell to
discussing wedding plans. In the midst of arguing the merits of
lilies over white roses, a topic Christian could not find as
interesting as his bride apparently did, Marilyn and Jonathan
walked in, flushed from a walk in the Park. Both looked extremely
pleased with themselves.

"Might we make it a double ceremony?" asked
Jonathan when all had been explained to them. Lady Beauforth,
open-mouthed, looked at Marilyn, who nodded happily. "If you
approve, that is, my lady," he concluded more formally.

"Approve?" exclaimed Lady Beauforth. "My
dear boy, you are already like one of the family. I am only
surprised that you waited this long."

"There was the small matter of her previous
commitment, if you recall," he reminded her. "In addition, I wanted
to be sure of my prospects first. Lord Holte has made me his legal
heir, as of yesterday, so I am now a man of substance both in
England and America." He smiled fondly down at Marilyn.

"But we are to honeymoon in Virginia, as you
promised," she reminded him.

"That I did," he returned. "Did you by
chance plan on a wedding trip there as well?" he asked, turning to
Azalea and Christian.

"No, I had something else in mind," replied
Christian, grinning with delight at their news, "but I have yet to
discuss it with my bride." He turned to Azalea. "Would you care to
take a drive? My carriage is at the door."

She nodded, too happy to speak.

He took her firmly by the hand and led her
outside to his waiting carriage. "Care to take a guess where we're
going?" he asked. The intensity of the gaze he turned on her made
her heart flip over.

"To the Park?" she asked shyly.

"No, to my Town house. It occurs to me that
my Countess might care to see the place, as she will have the
managing of it shortly."

Azalea felt as if she were melting in the
warmth of his regard. "Yes. Yes I would," she agreed.

On the way there, Christian told her about
his arrival at Beauforth House the afternoon before and Marilyn's
timely request. They chuckled together as they climbed down from
the carriage, but when they stepped into the house, their laughter
stilled. No servants were in evidence, by prior arrangement.
Silently, hand in hand, they mounted the stairs.

Once in his own bedchamber, Christian closed
the door softly and held out his arms. She came to him willingly,
with no reservations. This was Christian, the man she had loved for
so very long —and her husband.

"To think I was consumed by guilt for
kissing my own wife," he said, echoing her thoughts. "Were you very
angry?"

"Only that you stopped. I shall remember
that time always, Christian." She smiled up at him, her heart in
her eyes.

"I won't hold back this time," he warned
her. "Prepare yourself for something even more memorable."

Azalea doubted that could be possible, but
she soon found that she was wrong. Thoroughly, without any
indication of haste, he kissed her, running his hands over her
body. She returned his kiss passionately, the fire that he kindled
within her suddenly bursting into roaring flame.

He chuckled deep in his throat as he sensed
her response. She fumbled at his clothes, eager to have his skin
against hers. What she had felt before was as nothing compared to
the rage of desire that now had her in its grip.

Christian fastened his mouth on hers again
and with eager hands began to strip away her gown. Azalea
unhesitatingly responded to his ardour, opening to his kiss. She
continued to fumble with his cravat, and in a moment had it undone.
Her nimble fingers went on to the studs of his shirt, finally
baring his chest even as he released her from the bodice of her
gown. He ran his hands down her back, the sensation of her nipples
against his bare chest nearly driving him mad.

Softly, wonderingly, Azalea's hands explored
the contours of his torso, her fingers combing through the hair on
his chest, sliding down the plane of his hard stomach. Christian
untied the sash of her gown and slid the garment down past her hips
until it lay in a shimmering heap at her feet. For a moment, he
pulled back to feast his eyes upon her lush curves.

She did not cease her explorations, but slid
one finger beneath the waistband of his breeches, which were now
stretched tight over his straining arousal. Quickly, he helped her
to unfasten them and a moment later stood as free of encumbrance as
she.

Kissing her deeply again, he lowered himself
onto the bed, drawing her with him, his whole length pressed
against hers. This time there was no stiffening in her, no
hesitancy, as he traced the curves and hollows of her body with his
hands and then his mouth.

Azalea had never dreamed such sensations
could exist. As his hands stroked and caressed, lower and lower,
she arched her back to greet them. Heat pulsed between her thighs,
spreading, licking over her until her whole body was aflame.
Slowly, maddeningly, his fingers approached the source of the
inferno.

She gasped as he fastened his mouth over one
of her breasts, teasing and tantalizing the nipple with his tongue.
At the same time, he inched his hand lower, into the curly tangle
between her legs. One finger stroked the spot that had become the
very centre of her being and waves of pleasure and insatiable need
washed over her. Without fully understanding why, she slid her
hands around to his back to pull his lower body to hers.

Releasing her breast with a final, lingering
kiss, he obliged her, allowing his hardness to slide up her thigh
until it just rested against the fiery spot his finger had been
massaging. Arching again, she pressed herself against him.

He moved from beside her to above,
supporting himself on his arms, and slowly, gently rocked back and
forth, barely grazing the place where her sensations were focused.
Arching higher, she felt him slide inside her, into the void that
cried out to be filled.

"Oh, Chris, yes!" she breathed.

He rocked faster, each movement now
thrusting him deeper. Suddenly, she felt a sharp pain, a
stretching, tearing sensation inside her, and then it was gone.

He had slowed for a moment, but now thrust
with renewed vigour. Azalea wrapped her legs around his to pull him
in further. Her ability to think was gone—her whole world was a
kaleidoscope of emotions and senses. She rocked with his rhythm,
her passions rising to a dizzying crescendo until they exploded in
a rush of pleasure so intense that she cried out in ecstasy.

Christian thrust twice, thrice more, then
arched his own back, shuddering, as he spent his own passion.
Carefully, he lowered himself next to her, kissing her gently on
the lips. She had been all that he had known he would be, and more
—far more. Still deep inside her, cradling her to him, he felt that
he could happily remain here with her for the rest of his life. He
had never felt so complete.

But slowly, reality intruded. Loath as he
was to move, he knew that he had to get Azalea back to Beauforth
House if her reputation was not to be sunk beyond repair —at least,
if they were to go along with Lady Beauforth's scheme.

"You realize that you will have to marry me
now," he said softly, kissing a curl at her temple.

She looked up at him with those glorious
green eyes and smiled. "If I had known what being your wife
entailed, I would have told you my first day in England," she
breathed.

"Let that be your punishment," he said with
a tender grin. "You missed two months of pleasure for your
silence."

After another quiet moment of contentment,
Azalea asked him, "Didn't we come here to discuss our wedding
trip?"

"Insatiable minx! That's not why I brought
you here at all."

"Cousin Alice will wonder at our being gone
so long," she prompted gently, though she had no desire to
leave.

"As you say. I had another setting in mind
for my surprise, anyway."

He would not answer her excited enquiries,
but helped her to dress, then held the door for her to precede him
out of the suite and down to the waiting carriage.

"Chris, you are driving me to distraction,"
she declared as they pulled up before the Beauforth house.

"Only fair," he replied. "You have been
doing that to me since the moment I met you— again."

Once inside, he did not take her back to the
parlour as she had expected, but led her through the house and out
into the deserted gardens behind. The sunlight made it cheerful
despite the fact that only the conifers were green. They stopped
under the rose bower, covered now with gnarled grey canes awaiting
the warmth of spring to bring them back to life.

"Happy as I am for your cousin and Mr.
Plummer, I have no intention of sharing my wedding trip with them.
It strikes me that we have a lot of catching up to do, old married
couple that we are." His smile made her want to leap into his arms
again. "But not necessarily in America."

She looked up at him questioningly.

"I thought we might tour the Continent," he
said at last. "I hear the roses at Malmaison in June are well worth
seeing."

Azalea gasped with delight at the prospect
of having that botanist's dream fulfilled. How could he have
known?