Everything and the Moon (21 page)

“Is something amiss?” she asked.

His head whipped up to face her. “Have you been in this bag?”

“No, of course not, I wouldn't—” She colored as she remembered that she'd been looking through his things. “Well, actually I
would
snoop in your belongings, I admit, but I found the tub before I found your case.”

“I don't care if you want to pull up the floorboards,” he said distractedly. “What's mine is yours. But I had important papers in this case, and now they're gone.”

A unexpected bubble of mirth welled up in Victoria's chest. “What sort of papers?” she asked carefully.

Robert let out another low curse before replying, “The special license.”

Victoria had a feeling that it wasn't an appropriate time to burst into loud and raucous laughter, but she did so anyway.

Robert planted his hands on his hips as he turned to face her. “This is not funny.”

“I'm sorry,” she said, not sounding particularly apologetic. “It is simply that you— Oh, my!” Victoria collapsed into another round of giggles.

“It must be in my other case,” Robert said. “Damn.”

Victoria wiped her eyes. “Where is your other case?”

“London.”

“I see.”

“We'll have to leave within the hour.”

Her mouth fell open. “Leave for London? Right now?”

“I don't see any other option.”

“But how will we get there?”

“MacDougal stabled my carriage just a quarter mile away before leaving for London. The local squire has always been most accommodating. I'm sure he can spare a groom to drive us back.”

“You let me believe that I was stranded here?” she yelled.

“You never asked,” he said, shrugging. “Now then, I suggest you get dressed. As delightful as you are in your current attire, there is a slight chill in the air.”

She held the bed sheets tightly against her body. “My dress is in the next room.”

“You're going to be modest now?”

Her mouth twisted into an offended frown. “I'm sorry I can't be as cosmopolitan as you are, Robert. I don't have much experience with this sort of thing.”

He smiled and dropped an affectionate kiss on her forehead. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry. You're simply too much fun to tease. I'll get your dress right away. And,” he added as he opened the door, “I shall leave you to your privacy to change into it.”

 

Thirty minutes later they were on their way to London. Robert was having a difficult time keeping himself from breaking out into song. On his way back from retrieving the carriage, he had actually belted out a rather off-key version of Handel's “Hallelujah Chorus.” He probably would have finished the piece if the horses hadn't whinnied in aural agony. Robert quieted down, thinking it best not to offer similar torture to his betrothed's ears—his betrothed! He loved saying that. Hell, he loved just thinking it.

Still, his happiness was so great that he couldn't quite keep it all inside, and thus, every so often he forgot himself, and then he'd realize he was whistling.

“I didn't know you liked to whistle,” Victoria said after about the fifth time he caught himself.

“I certainly cannot sing,” he replied. “So I whistle.”

“I don't think I've heard you whistling in—” She paused and thought. “I can't remember the last time.”

He grinned. “I haven't been this happy in a great many years.”

A pause, and then she said, “Oh.” She looked ridiculously pleased, and Robert felt ridiculously pleased that she looked that way. He whistled atonally for another few minutes, and then he looked up and said, “Do you realize how wonderful it is to feel spontaneous again?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“When I first met you, we used to run through the woods at midnight. We were wild and carefree.”

“It was lovely,” Victoria said softly.

“But now…Well, you know how ordered my life is. I am, as you like to say, the most organized man in Britain. I always have a plan, and I always follow it. It feels quite nice to do something spontaneous again.”

“You abducted me,” Victoria pointed out. “That was spontaneous.”

“Not at all,” he replied, waving away her comment. “I planned that quite carefully, I assure you.”

“Not carefully enough to
feed
us,” she responded just a touch acerbically.

“Ah, yes, the food,” he mused. “A small oversight.”

“It didn't seem small at the time,” she muttered.

“You didn't perish of hunger, did you?”

She swatted him playfully on the shoulder. “And you forgot the special license. When one considers the fact that the entire purpose of the abduction was to marry me, that constitutes a large gap in the plan, indeed.”

“I didn't forget to plan for the special license. I just forgot to bring it. I certainly meant to.”

Victoria peered out the window. Twilight hung in the air, as it would for several hours. They would not make it to London that evening, but they would get more than halfway there. “Actually,” she said, “I'm rather glad you forgot the license.”

“You want to put off the inevitable as long as possible, I gather?” he said. He was clearly teasing, but Victoria sensed that her answer was important to him.

“Not at all,” she replied. “Once I make a decision I like to carry it out immediately. It's just that it is nice to see you do something wrong every now and then.”

“Excuse me?”

She shrugged. “You're nearly perfect, you know.”

“Why doesn't that sound like a compliment? And more importantly, if I'm so damned perfect why has it taken me so long to convince you to marry me?”

“It's
because
you're perfect,” she said with a sly smile. “It can grow annoying. Why should I do anything if you're going to do it better?”

He grinned devilishly and pulled her against him. “I can think of many things that you do better.”

“Oh, really?” she murmured, trying not to get too aroused by the way his hand was stroking her hip.

“Mmm. You kiss better.” To prove his point, he let his lips drift down onto hers.

“You taught me.”

“You look much better without any clothes on.”

She blushed, but she was growing comfortable enough with him that she dared to say, “That is a matter of opinion.”

He pulled back with a loud sigh. “Very well. You sew better.”

She blinked. “You're right.”

“And you certainly know more about children,” he added. “When we are parents I shall constantly have to defer to your better judgment. I'm liable to launch into a lecture on Newton's three laws of motion before they're out of the cradle. Most inappropriate. You'll have to teach me all the nursery rhymes.”

Victoria's heart soared at his words. Her brief life as a seamstress had shown her the joy of being able to make important decisions for herself. More than anything she was afraid that marriage would mean she would lose all of this. But now Robert was telling her that he valued her judgment.

“And you have a bigger heart,” he said, touching her cheek. “I often get swept up in myself. You always notice the needs of others first. It's a rare and lovely gift.”

“Oh, Robert.” She leaned toward him, eager for the warmth of his arms. But before she reached him, the carriage hit a deep rut in the road, and she slipped.

“Oh!” she called out—in surprise.

“Aargh!” Robert grunted—in pain.

“Oh dear, oh dear,” Victoria said, her words rushed. “What is wrong?”

“Your elbow,” he gasped.

“What? Oh, I'm sorry—” The carriage jolted again, and her elbow slid deeper into his midsection. Or at least she thought it was his midsection.

“Please…move…it…
NOW
!”

Victoria scrambled and managed to disentangle her limbs from his. “I'm so sorry,” she repeated. Then she looked at him more closely. He was doubled over, and even in the dim light she could tell that his skin looked quite green. “Robert?” she asked in a hesitant voice, “are you going to be all right?”

“Not for several minutes.”

She watched him for a few seconds and then ventured, “Did I hit you in the stomach? I assure you it was an accident.”

He remained hunched over as he said, “It's a
male
sort of pain, Victoria.”

“Ohhhh,” she breathed. “I had no idea.”

“I wouldn't have expected you to,” he muttered.

Another minute went by, and then Victoria suddenly got a horrible thought. “This isn't permanent, is it?”

He shook his head. “Don't make me laugh. Please.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Stop saying you're sorry.”

“But I am.”

“Cold, hunger, and then mortal injury,” Robert said under his breath. “Was ever a man as plagued as I?”

Victoria didn't see any reason to reply. She kept her gaze scrupulously on the window, watching as Kent rolled by. There was no sound out of Robert for at least ten minutes, and then, just when she was certain he must have fallen asleep, she felt a tap on her shoulder. “Yes?” she said, turning around.

He was smiling. “I'm feeling better now.”

“Oh. Well, I'm so happy for you,” she replied, not really certain what type of comment passed for appropriate in this situation.

Robert leaned closer, a hungry look in his eyes. “No, I meant that I'm feeling
much
better.”

Victoria wished he'd stop speaking so cryptically. “Well, then, she said, “I'm
very
happy for you.”

“I'm not certain you understand,” he murmured.

Victoria wanted to say that she was certain she
didn't
understand, but before she could get a word out, Robert had yanked her legs onto the seat, and she was lying on her back. She gasped his name, but he silenced her with a kiss.

“I'm much improved,” he said against her mouth. “Very”—kiss—“very”—kiss—“ much improved.” He raised his head and gifted her with the slowest and most languorous of smiles. “Would you care for a demonstration?”

H
ere?” Victoria croaked. “In the carriage?”“Why not?”

“Because…Because…It's indecent!” She tried to pull herself away, then muttered, “It must be.”

Robert lifted his head a fraction of an inch. His blue eyes twinkled mischievously. “Is it? I don't recall your father ever delivering a sermon on the topic.”

“Robert, I am certain that this is most irregular.”

“Of course it is,” he said, nuzzling the underside of her chin. She was soft and warm and still smelled like his sandalwood soap. “Normally I would not indulge here in the carriage, but I did want to set your mind at rest.”

“Oh, so this is for my benefit?”

“You were so concerned about possible permanent effects of my injury…”

“Oh, no,” she said, trying to catch her breath. “I am confident of your recovery, I assure you.”

“Ah, but I want to make certain you have no lingering doubts.” His hands wrapped around her ankles and began to slide up her legs, leaving twin trails of fire that burned right through her stockings.

“None, I assure you.”

“Shhh, just kiss me.” He nibbled at her lips, his hands sliding up and over the soft curve of her hips. Then he rounded them behind her, cupping her soft backside.

“I thought—” She cleared her throat. “I thought you didn't want to do this again until we were married.”

“That,” he said, moving to the corner of her mouth, “was when I still thought we could be married this evening. I have discovered that there is a time and a place for scruples.”

“And this isn't one of them?”

“Most definitely not.” He found the bare skin of her upper thighs and squeezed, eliciting a gasp of delight. He groaned, loving the sounds of her desire. Nothing had the power to inflame his passion quite so much as the sights and sounds of her pleasure. He felt her arching beneath him, and his hands moved to her back, where they furiously worked at her buttons. He needed her…God, he needed her
now
.

He pushed down the bodice of her gown. She was still wearing the blue nightdress as a chemise. Too impatient to unfasten that as well, he instead captured her breast with his mouth, dampening the fabric around her peaking nipple with his tongue.

Victoria was thrashing beneath him, incoherent mumblings escaping her lips. He lifted his head for a moment to look at her. Her sable hair was wild and free on the bench cushions, and her dark blue eyes were nearly black with desire. Robert's throat filled with an incomprehensible choking sensation, and he was overcome by a feeling so strong that he couldn't possibly contain it. “I love you,” he whispered. “I will always love you.”

He saw her inner struggle and knew she wanted to say it, too. But whatever was holding her back still had a grip on her heart, and she couldn't. He didn't care; he knew she'd eventually come to understand her love for him. But he couldn't bear to see her so torn, so he pressed a gentle finger against her lips. “Don't speak,” he whispered. “We don't need words right now.”

He kissed her anew, his mouth hungry and wild. His hands found her drawers and within seconds the garment was on the floor of the carriage. He touched her intimately, his knowing fingers teasing the folds of her womanhood.

“Oh, Robert!” she gasped. “What—Last time you didn't—”

“There's more than one way to love you,” he murmured. He felt her more deeply, marveling at how responsive she was beneath his touch. Her body moved against him, drawing his finger in more deeply. She was whipping him deeper and deeper into his desire, and he felt himself straining against his breeches. He pressed his lips roughly against the pulse point in her temple and whispered, “Do you want me?”

She looked at him in disbelief.

“I want to hear you say it,” he said, his voice hoarse.

Gasping for air, she nodded.

Robert decided that that was good enough, and he fumbled with the fastenings of his breeches. He was too hot, too ready to get the damned garment off his legs. Instead, he just pulled himself out and nudged his way between her things, where his fingers were still tickling their way to heaven.

One of Victoria's legs slid off the bench, giving him more room to probe her womanhood. He pressed forward, sheathing just his tip within her. Her muscles turned hot and convulsed around him, and his entire body shuddered in reaction. “I want more, Torie,” he rasped. “More.”

He felt her nod, then he pushed farther, moving closer and closer to the very center of her being, until finally he was fully embedded within her. Robert pulled her tightly against him, silently savoring their union. His lips trailed across her cheek to her ear, and he whispered, “I'm home now.” Then he felt her tears on his face, tasted the salt as they rolled to his lips, and he was undone. Animal desire overtook him, and his mind and body separated. He pumped into her relentlessly, somehow managing to hold back his release until he felt her stiffen and cry out beneath him.

With a loud groan he thrust one last time, pouring himself into her. He collapsed almost instantly, every muscle exquisitely weary. A thousand thoughts collided in his mind in that instant—was he too heavy for her? Did she have any regrets?
Had they made a baby
?—but his mouth was so busy gasping for air that he couldn't have spoken if his life depended on it.

Finally, when he was able to hear something other than their hearts thudding in unison, he lifted himself onto his elbow, unable to believe what he'd done. He'd taken Victoria in a cramped, moving carriage. They were half dressed, rumpled—hell, he hadn't even managed to remove his boots. He supposed he should say he was sorry, but he wasn't. How could he be sorry when Victoria—no, Torie—was lying beneath him, her breathing still uneven with the last vestiges of her climax, her cheeks hot and flushed with pleasure.

Still, he felt he should say something, so he offered her a lopsided smile and said, “That was certainly interesting.”

Her mouth opened, her jaw moved slowly forward as if she was trying to say something. But no sound emerged.

“Victoria?” he asked. “Is something wrong?”

“Two times,” she said, blinking dazedly. “Two times before the ceremony.” She closed her eyes and nodded. “Two times is quite all right.”

Robert threw back his head and laughed.

 

As it happened, “two times” was not quite accurate. By the time Robert managed to slide a gold band onto the fourth finger of Victoria's left hand, she had been thoroughly made love to not twice but four times. They had had to stop at an inn on the way to London, and he didn't even bother to consult her before informing the innkeeper that they were man and wife, and requesting a chamber with a large and comfortable bed.

And then he'd pointed out that it would be a sin to let such a nice big bed go to waste.

They were married almost immediately on their arrival in London. Much to Victoria's amusement, Robert left her waiting in the carriage as he ran into his house to retrieve the special license. He returned in under five minutes, and then they made their way to the residence of the Reverend Lord Stuart Pallister, the youngest son of the marquess of Chipping-worth, and an old school chum of Robert's. Lord Pallister married them in a trice, completing the ceremony in less than half the time Victoria's father had usually taken to do the job.

Victoria was terribly self-conscious when they finally arrived at Robert's home. It wasn't that it was imposingly grand; with his father still living, Robert had adopted one of the family's smaller holdings. Still, his stately town house was impeccably elegant, and Victoria had a feeling that living in the family quarters of such a residence would be much different than a governess's topfloor cubbyhole.

She was also afraid that all the servants would immediately recognize her as a sham. A vicar's daughter—a governess!—They wouldn't like to receive orders from her. It was imperative that she start out on the right foot with Robert's staff—a bad first impression could take years to correct. She just wished she knew which of her feet was the right one.

Robert seemed to understand her dilemma. As they rode in the carriage from Lord Pallister's home to his, he patted her on the hand and said, “Now you shall be a countess when you are introduced to your new home. It shall be much better that way.”

Victoria agreed, but that didn't stop her hands from shaking as they walked up the front steps. She tried to keep them still, but she wasn't successful, and her wedding band suddenly felt very heavy on her finger.

Robert paused before opening the door. “You're trembling,” he said, taking her gloved hand in his.

“I'm nervous,” she admitted.

“Why?”

“I feel as if I'm at a masquerade.”

“And your costume would be…” he prompted.

Victoria let out a nervous laugh. “A countess.”

He smiled. “It's not a costume, Victoria. You
are
a countess. My countess.”

“I don't feel like one.”

“You'll get used to it”.

“That is easy for you to say. You were born to this sort of thing. I haven't the slightest idea how to go about it.”

“Didn't you spend seven years as a governess? Surely you must have observed a thing or two from Lady—No, I take that back,” he said, frowning. “Contrive
not
to emulate Lady Hollingwood. Just be yourself. There is no rule that a countess must be haughty and stern.”

“Very well,” she said doubtfully.

Robert reached for the doorknob, but the door was pulled open before he touched it. A butler swept into a deep bow, murmuring, “My lord.”

“I think he watches out the window for me,” Robert whispered into Victoria's ear. “I have never once managed to grasp the doorknob.”

Victoria let out a little giggle despite herself. Robert was trying so hard to set her at ease. She decided then and there that she would not disappoint him. She might be terrified, but she was going to be a perfect countess if it killed her.

“Yerbury,” Robert said, handing the man his hat, “may I present my new wife, the Countess of Macclesfield.”

If Yerbury was surprised it certainly did not show on his face, which Victoria was sure was made of granite. “My deepest congratulations,” he said, then turned to Victoria and added, “My lady, it will be my pleasure to serve you.”

Victoria almost giggled again at that. The thought of someone serving her was so utterly foreign. But, determined to act properly, she managed to stifle her laugh into a friendly smile and said, “Thank you, Yerbury. I'm delighted to become a part of your household.”

Yerbury's pale eyes glowed just a touch warmer when she said “
Your
household.” Then the unthinkable occurred. Yerbury sneezed. “Oh!” he exclaimed, looking as if he wanted to melt into the ground. “My lady, I am so dreadfully sorry.”

“Don't be silly, Yerbury,” Victoria said. “It is only a sneeze.”

He sneezed again, just as he was saying, “A good butler never sneezes.” Then he let out four more sneezes in rapid succession.

Victoria had never seen a man look more distressed. With a quick glance at Robert, she went forward and laced her arm through the butler's. “Come now, Yerbury,” she said warmly, before he had a chance to faint at such intimate contact with the new countess. “Why don't you show me to the kitchens? I know of an excellent remedy. We shall have you cured in no time.”

And then Yerbury, his face betraying more emotion than he'd let show in forty years, led her to the back of the house, thanking her profusely all the while.

Robert only smiled as he was abandoned in the front hall. It had taken less than two minutes for Victoria to charm Yerbury. He predicted she would have the rest of the household eating from her hand by nightfall.

 

A few days passed, and Victoria slowly grew comfortable with her new position. She didn't think she would ever be able to order servants around like most of the nobility; she had spent far too long in their ranks not to realize that they were all people, too, with hopes and dreams much like her own. And although the servants were never told of Victoria's background, they seemed to sense that she had a special affinity for them.

Victoria and Robert were breakfasting one day when a particularly devoted maid insisted that she reheat her mistress's morning chocolate because it wasn't quite warm enough. As the maid scurried off with the pot, Robert remarked, “I do think they would give their lives for you, Torie.”

“Don't be silly,” she said with a scoff and a smile.

Robert added, “I'm not at all certain they would do the same for me.”

Victoria was about to repeat her earlier comment when Yerbury entered the room. “My lord, my lady,” he said, “Mrs. Brightbill and Miss Brightbill have come calling. Shall I tell them you are not at home?”

“Thank you, Yerbury,” Robert said, turning back to his newspaper.

“No!” Victoria exclaimed. Yerbury immediately halted in his tracks.

“Who is supposed to be in charge here?” Robert muttered, watching as his butler blatantly disregarded his wishes in deference to those of his wife.

“Robert, they are family,” Victoria said. “We must receive them. Your aunt's feelings will be terribly bruised.”

“My aunt has an amazingly thick skin, and I would like some time alone with my wife.”

“I am not suggesting that we invite all of London for tea. Merely that you spare a few minutes to greet your aunt.” Victoria looked back up at the butler. “Yerbury, please show them in. Perhaps they might like to share our meal.”

Robert scowled, but Victoria could see that he wasn't really upset. In a few seconds Mrs. Brightbill and Harriet bustled into the room. Robert immediately rose to his feet.

“My dear, dear nephew!” Mrs. Brightbill trilled. “You have been a naughty boy.”

“Mother,” Harriet added, throwing a sheepish look Robert's way, “I don't think one can still call him a boy.”