In the Wake of the Wind (33 page)

He gritted his teeth, not knowing how much longer he could hold off. He wanted to pleasure her, but touching her like this made him mad with lust, desperate to be inside her, buried in her heat. Just as that dire thought crossed his addled brain, she tugged at his shoulders with a moan, pulled him up toward her, spreading her legs wide in invitation, her small hand taking his engorged shaft and guiding it to her entrance, her breath hot and fast on his cheek.

With a stifled sob of relief he rose over her and thrust into her searing flesh in one long smooth stroke, and she took his full length with welcome, little gasps whispered against his ear as he moved deep in her, his rhythm fast and even, spiraling them both toward a shattering climax, his muscles straining as he reached a peak of unbearable sensation.

He slid his hands under her buttocks and lifted her even closer, his head arching back, a harsh cry breaking from his throat as his ejaculation burst from him, pouring into her in scorching waves. It shattered him, tore him into a million pieces, reconfigured him into something entirely different.

He dimly heard her answering cries as her muscles contracted fiercely around him, sending him back over the edge again, until he felt as if he might well die from an excess of pleasure. He had never, never experienced anything so incredible in his life.

Her sharp cries finally faded into little sobs, and her hands gradually loosened their grip on his back, then fell away altogether, her breath coming in shallow pants at the base of his throat.

Aiden felt sanity return as his heartbeat slowed. He looked down at her, this extraordinary woman who was capable of shaking him out of all semblance of control, who was so damned responsive that she sent him reeling even now. Tears slid from the comers of her closed eyes, trickling down her cheeks, and he pushed himself up on one elbow in sudden concern, wondering if he’d been too hard with her.

“What, sweetheart? What makes you cry? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he whispered, kissing the salty trails.

“Anything but,” she said with a shuddering breath. “Oh, Aiden …” She pressed her soft lips against his shoulder. “I—I can’t explain.”

“You don’t have to explain,” he said, stroking damp tendrils of hair off her face. “I was right there with you. Dear God, sweetheart, that was extraordinary.” He shook his head in perplexity. “I don’t know what happened. One minute I was watching you dance, and the
next …
I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.” He fell onto his side, pulling her leg over his hip, reluctant to move out of her. “Everything seemed to disappear. I feel like a damned fool for saying so, but I swear to God I thought I’d gone into another dimension.”

“It must be Midsummer magic,” she said with a shaky laugh, kissing his throat. “Fairy time.”

“I don’t know the first thing about Midsummer magic, but I’ll take your word for it. Shakespeare had the right of it, I think.” He wrapped her up in his arms. “You put the fear of God into me when you disappeared like that,” he said, his voice muffled against the cascade of her hair, hair that smelled faintly of lilacs. “Why did you vanish? Was it just to sing your song? It was beautiful, by the way, one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever heard.”

She turned in his embrace and looked into his eyes. “You don’t mind? I wanted to honor the god and goddess on this night, and I needed to do it out here, next to the oak tree.”

“Mmm,” he murmured. “I can understand that well enough. Old Jehovah always has had a certain majestic presence.”

“Jehovah?” she said, running her fingers through his hair. “Is that what you call it?”

“I’ve always thought of it like that, I suppose because it’s so old,” he said, reaching for one of her hands and kissing each finger.

She smiled. “You’re a great deal more fanciful than you like to have people believe.”

“It’s a good thing, now that I’ve discovered I have a pagan wife,” he replied dryly. “You might have told me, sweetheart. Here I was thinking that you were forming a choir because you had a deep and abiding love for the Church.”

“Music,” she said absently, entwining her fingers with his. “I love music. It doesn’t matter what kind, as long as it’s beautiful. And I’m
not
a pagan, not really.” She thought for a moment. “I just believe that there are all sorts of ways to honor deity. Church is nice, but so are the ancient rituals. They make me feel closer to heaven
and
earth. In church all they talk about is leaving earth as quickly as possible to get to heaven, which I find baffling since so much trouble went into putting us here.”

Aiden chuckled. “I wasn’t far off in calling you
Titania,
was I? You make a very respectable queen of the fairies. You certainly cast an enchantment over me.”

“Do you think that’s what I’ve done, Aiden?” she asked, her expression deadly serious. “I—that is, I don’t want you to think that I cast charms and spells like Aunt Elspeth. I wouldn’t ever do such a thing.”

Aiden burst into laughter, finding her utterly adorable. “I don’t think for a moment that you were trying to capture my image in a mirror to weave some sort of love spell over me, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m sure I’d be immune, being the hardheaded man I am.”

“You’re certainly hardheaded,” she agreed with a little smile, but her eyes held sadness. “Then again, you’ve lived a hard life, so it’s not surprising. I understand much better now why you think the way you do.”

“Oh, do you?” he said, certain that
Serafina
had no clue at all as to how he thought. If she had, she wouldn’t be lying next to him regarding him with such supreme trust. He slipped out of her and rolled onto his back, gazing up at the starry sky.
Serafina
was a complete innocent with no experience in dealing with men other than himself. And he was no shining example of the male species, although a fairly typical model.

She deserved a great deal more than what he had to offer, and he couldn’t help feeling like a cad in the face of her unwavering devotion. She had no real idea what kind of life he’d lived, how many women there had been, how cavalierly he’d treated them until she’d come along. And now here he was, taking advantage of her innocence, behaving like a lust-crazed fool, all because his wife had captivated him with her sea-green eyes, her sweet, unaffected nature. He wished to hell he was capable of the sort of romantic love she wanted, but he wasn’t, and there was nothing he could do to change that.

If he had an honest bone in his body he would enlighten her then and there as to just what sort of a man he really was and shatter every illusion she’d ever had all over again.

The problem was that he obviously wasn’t an honest man, for he had no inclination to do so. He found that he liked having her regard him as some sort of hero, as misguided as the impression was.

“Aiden?” she asked, her voice filled with hesitant question.

“Hmm?” he replied, dragging his gaze back to her. He propped himself up on his elbow. “What is it?”

“I was just wondering what you were thinking.”

“Nothing you want to know about,” he replied dryly. “My inner workings don’t bear close examination, especially not the kind of scrutiny you like to bring to them.”

“I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to scrutinize you. I only meant that you can’t have found it easy growing up here without any mother at all, never mind the rest of your troubles with your father and sister. You must have had a very difficult time all on your own.”

Aiden, taken off guard by her statement, sat up abruptly, a hard, uncomfortable lump forming in his throat. He wasn’t accustomed to sympathy. He didn’t really know what to do with such an unfamiliar sensation. Vulnerability wasn’t his strong suit, and
Serafina
made him feel more vulnerable than he ever had, damn her anyway. He hadn’t ever anticipated that she’d crawl under his skin to such a degree, make him feel so exposed, and he didn’t like the feeling in the least.

He wasn’t a hero, as much as he liked the notion. It was one thing to be seen as one, another to live up to the image. There was no way he could meet her impossibly high expectations, and perhaps it was best if he did shatter her illusions, now, before things went any farther.

He also wasn’t accustomed to lying stark naked in the moonlight with a woman he’d just made passionate love to, talking about the innermost places in his heart. Making love to
Serafina
was one thing; speaking of things he’d kept buried for most of his life was another.

“Aiden? What’s wrong? Did I say something I ought not to have?”

“Not at all,” he said, suddenly wanting nothing more than to be alone, away from her searching questions, back in a place of privacy. He found her nightdress in the tangle of clothes around him. “Here, put this on,” he said brusquely, handing it to her. “I’d better get you back to bed. You’re suffering from exhaustion as it is, and exposure won’t help matters. I shouldn’t have kept you out here at all.”

He shrugged himself into his clothes, ignoring the sudden hurt that clouded her face.

He was too busy trying to ignore his own pain.

S
erafina opened her eyes to the morning light, her heart heavy. She wasn’t sure what had caused Aiden’s abrupt emotional withdrawal, but it had left her shaken and miserable, especially after they’d shared such an incredible experience, a moment of grace that she knew with certainty had been given by the god and goddess.

Aiden had been there with her in that other place, as lost to time as she was, she was sure of it. He had given himself completely to her and just as completely taken himself away again as soon as his ardor had cooled. He walked her back to the house, saw her to bed, and disappeared downstairs again, saying only that he needed to finish his paperwork.

His arms had come around her in the small hours before dawn, holding her loosely against him, but he disappeared just as abruptly only three hours later. She kept her eyes closed, not wanting him to know she was awake, but aware of every move he made as he dressed and softly shut the door behind him, leaving her alone again.

The goddess may have been right about
Serafina
following her heart, but she hadn’t taken Aiden’s heart into consideration.

Aiden didn’t even have a heart, not really, not if he could make love to her like that in one minute and coldly shut her out in the next as if she had no more use to him. The only conclusion she’d been able to draw was that now he’d taken what he’d wanted, conquered her so completely, boredom had set in. Boredom, probably tinged with disgust that his wife danced and sang half-naked in the moonlight like the pagan he thought her. Of course he’d taken advantage. Not because he loved her, but because she’d made it so convenient for him.

All the solace the goddess had given her the night before, all the joy she’d experienced in Aiden’s impassioned embrace was gone as if it had never been, leaving her with a heaviness that dulled her heart and senses.
Seek the truth and know it is I who brings
it …
I offer you no knowledge you cannot endure…

She had sought the truth last night, and it had indeed been given to her. She wished she’d never asked.

It was Sunday, the day for the choir to sing at the church, but she’d lost her enthusiasm for their debut. She listlessly picked at the breakfast Janie brought on a tray, listening with half an ear to Janie’s chatter, wondering where Aiden was, why he’d left their bed before she woke.

“Isn’t it exciting, my lady?” Janie said, pulling a peach-colored silk walking dress over her head. “The day is finally here, after all our work.”

“Yes, it is exciting,” she said numbly as Janie did up the last buttons on the dress
Serafina
had been saving for the occasion.

“Oh, but my lady, you have no idea—my mum and my brothers and sisters are all in a flutter, waiting to hear us. Even my Uncle George is coming to church, and he hasn’t attended a service in years! And Plum looks about to burst—he’s wearing his finest suit of clothes.”

“I think that’s wonderful,”
Serafina
replied as Janie adjusted her bonnet. “Janie … where’s Lord Aubrey?”

“Right here,” Aiden said, coming into the bedroom. “Why,
Serafina,
you look very nice. That’s a fetching bonnet you’re wearing.”

She forced herself to smile. Aiden regarded her pleasantly enough, but she was no fool. The warmth, the real warmth that had shone from his eyes the last few days was gone, replaced by an expression of polite civility.

“Thank you,” she said, feeling even sicker. This was love, this horrible feeling of emptiness, of loss? This was love, this distance he’d created between them that she had no idea of how to span?

I
give
you no burden that you cannot bear
…
the goddess had said, clear as could be.
Serafina
hoped that was true, for she felt like dying.

“Serafina?”
Aiden said, gesturing Janie out of the room. “You’re pale. Are you still feeling ill?” he asked.

“I’m perfectly well. I must be nervous about this morning, that’s all.” She ducked her head and looked in the mirror, pretending to tidy her hair, desperate to avoid his gaze.

“Are you sure that’s all?” he asked, casting a glance at her tray. ‘You’ve hardly eaten a thing, and you had no dinner last night. Furthermore, you fainted yesterday evening.”

“Of course I’m sure,” she replied, lying through her teeth for the first time in her life. “My appetite always disappears when I’m nervous, and I’m sure that nerves are what induced my silly faint in the first place.”

He was only pretending concern, she told herself. Aiden Delaware was an earl to the marrow, always the correct gentleman, in bed and out. He probably behaved the same to every woman he bedded, having his roguish way and then politely seeing them out the door. His wife was a slightly more troublesome matter since he was stuck with her, but she was sure he’d find a way to deal with that problem.

Still, if nothing else, she had her pride. She wasn’t going to let him know for an instant that he’d broken her heart. She would play the dutiful wife to the hilt and never trouble him again with unwelcome love, never show him that she yearned for him with every fiber of her being and probably always would. She’d never again allow herself to give into her innermost feelings.

Adam and his fantastical Cypriot kingdom could go hang, and Aiden Delaware could hang along with them. The Aiden she thought she loved was as much a figment as Adam had ever been, and she was through with both of them. She didn’t care if there was a grain of truth to her memories of a life lived nearly a thousand years before on a remote Byzantine island. She had a current life to get on with, and Aiden was going to be as minimal a part of it as possible. He had to be. She didn’t think she’d survive otherwise.

“Perhaps you should stay home today,” Aiden said with a frown. “I don’t like your pallor. A church choir is one thing, but your health is another.”

“Please do not concern yourself with my health,” she said, forcing lightness into her tone. “I assure you, I am merely a trifle tired.”

“Tired? Ah well, I can’t be surprised.” He came up behind her and lightly rested his hands on her shoulders. “I did keep you out rather late and you were already exhausted.”

Serafina
inclined her head, wanting to scream. He’d kept her out late? That was all he had to say about what had transpired between them? “It is only my fault if I choose to indulge myself in the night air,” she replied, turning and fixing him with a falsely bright smile. “We mustn’t keep your father and sister waiting. I’m sure they’re anxious to be on time for the service.”

Aiden looked at her with puzzlement, but he dropped his hands. “As you say. The staff has already gone ahead.”

“Then we must be quick to follow.” She picked up her gloves and pulled them on. “Come along, Aiden. We have a job to do, and we shouldn’t dawdle.”

She took a neat step away from him before he could say any more and swiftly walked out of the room, wishing she could disappear altogether.

Charlotte allowed Raphael to deposit her in the pew in the first row of the Dundle church, her usual position from which to oversee services. She reluctantly removed her arms from around his neck, savoring the touch of his crisp neckcloth, the soft curl of hair just above it, even though she knew she shouldn’t. She had come to church to repent, not to think lascivious thoughts.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her eyes lowered as she adjusted her skirts about her legs, legs that were becoming surprisingly strong and vital, as responsive as the rest of her body.

She smiled to herself, her secret huge inside her.

“Are you comfortable?” Raphael asked, leaning his head close to her ear. “Would you like another cushion?”

Charlotte took his hand, squeezing it softly. “You are always so kind, but no, I am as comfortable as can be expected.”

“Let me just pull the stool under your feet.” Charlotte could just imagine what must be going through his mind as his strong hands slid over her ankles, making sure her feet were properly placed.

He sat up again, no betrayal of amorous feeling on his handsome face, but then Raphael always held his emotions in perfect check. She shivered, aware now how it would feel to have his fingers slide higher, reach up under her skirts, touch her in the way she knew he’d always longed to do.

She shot him another sidelong glance. The day would come soon enough when she felt his hands there, his face twisted up in longing the way Frederick’s did when he fondled her most private place. Just as he had again early this morning, bringing her to another peak of ecstasy, unable to resist her. She was so ashamed to be thinking about their encounter at all, but she couldn’t help herself.

She wanted to squirm, remembering how Frederick had come into her room, his face frozen, but his eyes hungry with desire as he’d started to rub her, trying to pretend that nothing had passed between them.

She had gone along at first with the pretense, but before long she hadn’t been able to resist opening her legs again, inviting him to dip his fingers between her quivering lower lips. And it had taken even less time to persuade him out of his livery, to show her his naked body, his huge organ ready again to tease her, its distended purple head stroking and sliding helplessly against her wet, aching opening, gaining no entrance, for she would be a virgin when Raphael married her.

She briefly came out of her trance as the vicar started to read the first lesson from John. It was one she could have recited from memory herself. She often thought that if she’d been born a man, she would have made an excellent min
ister.
But then, if she’d been born a man, she would have been in line for the marquessate instead of her brother.

…That which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we have looked at and our hands have touched…

Our hands have touched.
The words caused her to slip back into wicked memory, powerless to resist the dark thoughts, even with the knowledge that such things were sinful to contemplate in church, to contemplate at all, let alone act upon.

But oh, what excitement, what power she felt when Frederick panted and groaned and begged to be let into her sacred recesses. She’d had no choice but to let him take her with his mouth instead, using his tongue instead of his engorged shaft to penetrate her, poor boy. She could hardly deny him that pleasure when she’d denied him everything else, and he’d stabbed at her hungrily like a dog slathering at a meaty bone.

And his helpless groans as he ejaculated between her breasts had only made her feel more powerful…

A little moan slipped from her lips unbidden, and Raphael glanced over at her with a frown of concern, then took her hand in his. “All right?” he whispered.

She nodded, her eyes lowered, and let him keep her hand, knowing exactly where she’d like it to wander. Her gaze flickered to his groin. She couldn’t help flushing, thinking of their wedding night, of how he would look when he came to her bed, revealed in all his male glory. She knew how powerfully he would possess her, so masterful, nothing like pathetic Frederick, a lowly footman.

No, she’d be taken by a duke or not at all…

Her head shot up as her brother, her father, and
Serafina
suddenly rose and left the pew, followed by the staff of Townsend, who filed up the nave from their position in the back of the church. They gathered to one side of the altar, and Charlotte stared at them, unable to imagine what they thought they were doing by breaking the ordered routine of the service.

And then to Charlotte’s disbelief they opened their mouths and started to sing, the
two-part
harmony soaring through the church.

“Teach me, my God and King, in all things thee to see;

And what I do in anything, to do as for thee.

All may of thee partake; nothing can be so mean,

Which with this tincture for thy sake,

Will not grow bright and clean.

A servant with this clause, makes drudgery divine,

Who sweeps a room, as for thy laws,

makes that and the action fine.

This is the famous stone that turneth all to gold;

For that which God doth touch and own

Cannot for less be told.”

A horrified gasp finally slipped from Charlotte’s paralyzed throat as they brought the hymn to a close. She turned abruptly to Raphael, expecting to find him looking as distraught as she felt. But instead he smiled down at her, his eyes alight with pleasure.

“A fine surprise, is it not?” he said, squeezing her hand. “They’re very talented.”

Her mouth worked, but nothing came out. She couldn’t believe they had all gone behind her back like this, disturbed the sanctity of the service with song. And a mocking song at that, the servants singing about their place in the world as if they thought themselves equal to their betters—and her family, her own family encouraging them in this sacrilege, standing up with them in this mutiny against her.

Her face burned with mortification, but she forced herself to return Raphael’s smile, her frozen lips trembling with the effort. “Very—very nice,” she stammered in an undertone, trying to maintain her composure, for the last thing she wanted Raphael to see was the fury that raged in her breast. He couldn’t possibly have realized that they all conspired against her authority, or he would have immediately put a stop to the travesty.