Lovers Forever (6 page)

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Authors: Shirlee Busbee

BOOK: Lovers Forever
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Tess never knew whether it was the idea of food or the thought of being out of her wet, uncomfortable clothing that finally overcame her scruples, but she suddenly said, “I'm afraid that these are the only clothes I brought with me.” At Mrs. Darley's expression of astonishment, she improvised hastily, “I, er, had to leave London rather quickly. There wasn't time to, ah, pack.”
Really looking at Tess for the first time, the other woman frowned. “To be sure,” she said slowly, “them ain't the kind of clothes we see around here.” Mrs. Darley stared at her for so long, assessing the cut and fabric of her clothes, that Tess was certain her ruse was discovered. But suddenly making a decision, the older woman said curtly, “Come along with me. There's a trunk with some old clothes our eldest daughter left behind when she got married this summer. Something in there is bound to fit you.”
Gratefully, her fingers crossed against the sudden appearance of the
real
“fancy piece,” Tess followed her out of the kitchen down a cramped little hall, to an equally cramped little room. A narrow bed and small washstand were the only furnishings. Inside, Mrs. Darley pulled forth a battered black trunk from beneath the bed. She dug through it swiftly, saying as she tossed garments about, “This is to be your room while you stay with us.” She glanced sternly over her shoulder. “And I want to make it clear that I don't want to find you entertaining any ‘gentlemen' callers in
here
. What you and the gents do upstairs is your business, but I ain't having that sort of goings on in
my
part of this establishment! No matter what Henry says about it being good for business!”
It suddenly dawned on Tess that Mrs. Darley wasn't normally an unkind person, but that the innkeeper's wife thoroughly disapproved of her supposed profession. “Mrs. Darley,” Tess began softly, “I'm not really—” She stopped abruptly. How did she know she wasn't precisely the kind of creature Mrs. Darley had intimated she was? She swallowed painfully. A dashing highflier kept by some town buck could be an answer to her identity that she hadn't even considered!
“I told you it don't matter!” Mrs. Darley returned stiffly, turning around to face Tess. “Here,” she added, “this should fit you.” She thrust a worn, pale pink muslin gown into Tess's hands. “Use whatever you like from the trunk, but don't waste any time getting changed. You can find your way back to the kitchen.”
Dazedly Tess stared at the door that shut firmly behind Mrs. Darley's bulky figure. Was she doing the right thing? Deciding that she really didn't have any choice, she stripped off the clinging habit and slipped into the old muslin gown. It was a little big, but the soft worn,
dry
material felt wonderful against her chilled body. A further search of the trunk revealed an old pair of jean half-boots, which she found, to her great pleasure, fit her almost to perfection. She took a moment to braid her wildly curling hair and tie the end with a scrap of green ribbon she found in the bottom of the trunk.
Nervously smoothing down her gown, she hesitated a moment longer. Perhaps she had misjudged Mrs. Darley; perhaps if she went to the kitchen and explained? Explained what? she wondered miserably.
Tess was touched when she reached the kitchen to find that Mrs. Darley had prepared for her not only a plate of cheese and bread, but also a large slice of rare roast beef and a flagon of dark foamy beer. Mrs. Darley was not in evidence, although the young girl and boy smiled shyly at her. Seating herself at the scrubbed oak table, Tess fairly wolfed down her food. It was only when she pushed aside her plate that the girl sidled up to her and said softly, “Don't mind the missus—she has a mean tongue, but give her fair work and she'll treat you fair. It's the master to be careful of—
he's
a hard'un!”
Mrs. Darley came sailing in as Tess rose from the table. She stopped abruptly, staring at Tess, her mouth thinning. “Well, I must say that you don't look like a fancy piece in that garb. Just as well—the Black Pig is a respectable tavern, and I don't approve of the goings-on that
some
people claim will help bring us a few new customers.” Her face softened for a moment. “You're too young and pretty to let yourself be used this way, child.” Then, as if angry with herself for her brief lapse, she said tartly, “Of course, it makes no never mind to me! Come along with me to meet my husband—you'll be working for him tonight.” As they left the kitchen behind and walked down a short hall, she asked suddenly, “Now then, what did you say your name was?”
Tess swallowed, her mouth dry. What
was
her name? Before she had time to think, she heard herself saying calmly, “Dolly. My name is Dolly.” A half-hysterical bubble of laughter rose in her throat. She supposed that the name of an old farm horse was as good as any when you didn't know your own!
Henry Darley proved to be a congenial-looking man, but Tess immediately realized what the young girl in the kitchen had meant. He was a hard man, it was there in those small hazel eyes and in the selfish curve of his mouth. He wasn't a man to be crossed, and Tess's spirits, which had revived somewhat during the past several minutes, sank to the soles of her borrowed jean half-boots.
After introductions had been made, Harry looked her up and down and muttered, “Can't see as how that skinny little body of yours is going to do much to bring in the farm lads. But Tom says you know what you're doing and that he ain't had any dissatisfied customers yet, so we'll just have to see. In the meantime there is plenty of other work for you to do.” He nodded to several rough oak tables that were scattered about the low-beamed room and cluttered with tankards, plates, and pitchers. “Start clearing those tables.”
Filled with growing uneasiness, Tess set to work. Thank God she hadn't been confronted with some lusting, eager oaf! What in heaven's name was she to do when the time came, and there was no doubt that the time
would
come, that she was expected to take some strange man up the stairs and . . . uh ... work her wiles on him? She shuddered, wondering if perhaps she hadn't gotten herself into a situation far worse than her previous one. Not knowing anything about herself, she realized, it was possible that she was just the sort of woman the Darleys thought she was. But she doubted it. It just didn't feel right.
Fortunately, Tess didn't intend to stay any longer than necessary, and she was hopeful that she'd be gone before she was faced with any more unpleasant situations. She was also fortunate in the stormy weather and lateness of the hour; business at the inn was slow, so the likelihood of one of the “farm lads” turning up and wanting to go upstairs with her tonight was extremely unlikely. And by tomorrow she'd be gone.
As she worked, she glanced about furtively, noting the long wooden bar against one wall, where Harry was conversing idly with two older men who were clearly farmers, and the big stone fireplace in the corner. The main room of the tavern was smoky and poorly lit, with only a few candles on the bar and the smoldering fire on the hearth giving any light, but it seemed a pleasant enough place. Listening to the rain lashing against the side of the building and the occasional distant boom of thunder, Tess was very glad to be inside.
Suddenly above the storm she heard shouts, the neigh of a horse, and realized that someone had arrived. A tray of dirty dishes in her small hands, she froze by a table, her gaze locked painfully on the low doorway that opened to the main passageway of the tavern. She heard the front doors slam open, the stamp of booted feet, and the sound of masculine voices. One of them riveted her attention, the rich, deep tones sending a curious shiver down her spine. The next instant the doorway was filled with the figure of a tall man, his many-caped greatcoat making his shoulders seem impossibly wide, his black boots gleaming with raindrops. Sweeping off his curly-brimmed beaver hat, he had to duck his dark head as he entered the room.
The innkeeper recognized “quality” when he saw it and hurried forward eagerly. “A wretched night, is it not, Your Lordship? Let me take your coat, and my wife will set as hot and filling a meal before you as you could find in the finest houses in London.”
“Thank you,” replied Nicolas Talmage, his black eyes carelessly sweeping the interior. “A room for myself and quarters for my servants for the night would be greatly appreciated.” He smiled charmingly at the innkeeper. “It is indeed a wretched night—I had hoped to reach Sherbourne Court long before now, but the weather has made further travel impossible.”
Tess could not tear her eyes away from the tall stranger, and at the name “Sherbourne Court” she nearly gasped aloud. She
knew
that name! But the recognition gave her no comfort; instead an icy trickle slid down her spine. Was this the man she feared? The nameless, dreaded nemesis?
Across the smoky room, she studied the lean, arrogantly handsome features of the gentleman as he spoke with Darley, questions flying wildly through her brain. Unexpectedly Nicolas looked up, and as her eyes met his black, probing gaze, Tess had the terrifying sensation of suddenly stepping off into a dark, fathomless abyss....
Chapter Five
T
here was a roaring in Tess's ears, and though she tried, she could not tear her gaze away from the commanding features of the dark stranger across the room. She had seen handsome men before—more handsome, she was positive, than this man—yet she felt utterly mesmerized by him. She could not look away, could not break the queer, powerful spell that seemed to wrap itself around her as the seconds passed.
It was as if they were the only two people in the room, and she had the sudden sensation that she
knew
him, recognized him from some long-ago time; yet she could have sworn she had never laid eyes on him before. Frightened and yet unaccountably drawn to him, she could not explain, nor did she understand, the conflicting emotions that raged through her. The fact that he seemed equally stunned to see her did not escape Tess and only added to the intensity of the moment.
It was the innkeeper who finally broke the spell, clapping his hands together as he said loudly, “You, girl, Dolly, don't just stand there! Haven't you ever seen a lord before? Go get Mrs. Darley—this very instant.”
Tess started violently, finally breaking the hypnotic hold of the stranger's compelling black eyes. Breathlessly she turned on her heels and fled the room, hardly even aware of the rattle and clatter of the dishes on the tray that she still carried in her shaking hands.
It took but a moment to stammer out the innkeeper's demand, and after Mrs. Darley had bustled out of the kitchen, Tess sank onto a chair. Almost absently she noticed that her hands were still shaking, and more than any other time since she had first awakened with no memory, she wished desperately that she could remember who she was and what her past had been. Did she really know that gentleman in the caped greatcoat? Or had she just imagined the strange thrill of recognition that had gone through her when their eyes had met?
There was no time for further reflection—Mrs. Darley, her eyes sparkling, her cheeks pink with pleasure, came sailing back into the kitchen. “Quickly, quickly, everyone! We've the earl of Sherbourne staying with us tonight! It's only the weather that we have to thank for this unexpected boon, but if we can make a good impression, do
everything
necessary to see that he thoroughly enjoys himself tonight, I'm sure that we can expect Lord Sherbourne and his fancy friends to stop at the Black Pig regularly.” She glanced archly at Tess. “My Harry noticed that His Lordship seemed quite taken with you, so perhaps you're going to prove yourself useful after all!”
Mrs. Darley's words didn't help Tess's state of mind at all, and she was suddenly conscious of feeling that pretending to be Tom Darley's fancy piece, even for one night, was possibly the worst thing that she could have done! She sprang to her feet and said urgently, “Mrs. Darley, there is something I
must
tell you. There has been a mistake. I'm not what you think I am!”
“Oh, now, don't get all in a flutter, my girl,” Mrs. Darley returned lightly. “No one's asking you to do something you haven't done a dozen times already. And, oh my, ain't the earl a handsome fellow!” Feeling that she had settled the matter, Mrs. Darley turned to the two young servants who waited with excited expectancy and began to give out a long list of chores that had to be done immediately. Once she had both of them flying about the room intent upon their tasks, her attention returned to Tess. “Now come along, girl, and don't be shy—at the moment, all you need to do is help Mr. Darley serve His Lordship his dinner in our private parlor.
I'm
the one who will be upstairs working my fingers to the bone preparing his room!”
The innkeeper himself suddenly appeared on the threshold of the kitchen and said sharply, “Dolly, get yourself out here! His Lordship's port is ready.”
When Tess hesitated, a protest forming on her lips, Mr. Darley stepped forward, his face darkening. Grasping her arm, he gave her a brutal shake. “I'll have none of your airs, my fine little madame! The earl's plainly taken with you, and by God, I'll not have you ruining this opportunity! Upset him in any way and you'll rue the day you ever crossed Henry Darley! If you doubt me—we'll just see how proud you act after I've taken a stout rod to you a few times! Now come along! And put a smile on that sour face of yours!”
He jerked Tess after him, not releasing the painful grip on her upper arm until they had returned to the main room. There was no sign of the earl, but as Darley tossed aside her arm, he said, “His Lordship is in the parlor, right across the hall there. Take this tray in and make damn sure you give good service or you'll have me to answer to!” His eyes narrowed. “I've ways of dealing with servants who upset the customers.”
Tess swallowed with difficulty, her mouth suddenly dry as last year's straw. The urge to flee was strong, but self-preservation was equally strong. She was fairly positive that if she had to suffer at anyone's hands, she would much prefer the unknown earl to the savage punishment Darley would mete out . . . at least she
thought
she would. She wasn't so certain a few minutes later, when, carrying the heavy tray covered with all sorts of liquors to tempt an aristocratic palate, she tapped on the door to the private parlor and the earl's deep voice wrapped itself warmly about her as he bade her enter.
Her heart beating so frantically she thought it would leap out of her chest, Tess pushed open the door and entered the parlor. It was a surprisingly pleasant little room; crisp muslin curtains hung over the double windows along one wall, a newly made fire leaped cheerily on the hearth, many candles in brass holders were scattered about, and there was a fine old carpet on the floor. Two worn overstuffed leather chairs were placed invitingly on either side of the fire; a carved oak sideboard and a small oak table with chairs to match constituted the remainder of the furnishings. But it was the man who stood with his back to the fire as he warmed himself who commanded Tess's entire attention.
He had removed his many-caped greatcoat, and she noted the intricate arrangement of his starched white cravat and the way his dark blue jacket fit his broad shoulders and powerful arms. His buff breeches boldly outlined every muscle and sinew of his thighs, but after one quick peek at his thoroughly masculine form, Tess kept her eyes firmly fixed on the tray in her hands. She crossed the room as quickly as she could and, her back to him, set the tray on the oak sideboard. Her voice brittle, she said, “If there is anything else you desire, Your Lordship, Mr. Darley says to let him know and he'll see that you have it right away.”
Appreciatively regarding the stiff narrow back and slender hips presented to him, Nicolas decided there was a great deal that he
desired
and found it highly doubtful Mr. Darley could provide him with what he wanted. His black eyes narrowed. Then again, who knew—perhaps a word with Mr. Darley might insure that his bed was warmed this night by the unexpectedly bewitching little creature across the room from him....
The Black Pig was not the sort of establishment that Nicolas frequented these days, although before inheriting the title he had spent quite a bit of time in places like it, not quite respectable yet not
un
respectable. If the nasty weather hadn't made it impossible to travel onward, he wouldn't have stopped tonight and might even now be standing comfortably before his own fire at Sherbourne Court. But the weather had been exceedingly treacherous, and he'd been inordinately grateful when he'd caught sight of the faint lights of the tavern winking dimly through the driving wind and rain. But if in the beginning it had only been shelter for which he'd been grateful, that was no longer the case—and hadn't been since he had first ducked through the archway into the main room of the tavern and caught sight of the girl....
Even now, just staring at her as she fiddled nervously with the various bottles and glasses on the tray, he could feel the same sense of familiarity, of having known her before; could feel the same sudden hot passion that had flared deep in his belly when his eyes had met hers. But it was the strong, almost overpowering sense of possession, a certainty that she was
his
, that puzzled him greatly. He'd swear he'd never seen her before, and yet . . . Consideringly, his eyes traveled over the bright hair, the fiery tendrils that escaped the untidy braid and caressed her cheeks and neck. His gaze was caught by one particular wispy curl, right where her neck joined her shoulder, and he knew an urge to cross the room and place his lips right on that exact spot.
The urge was so powerful that Nicolas had taken an impetuous step forward before he realized what he was doing, and only the knowledge that he would not be able to stop with a mere kiss enabled him to remain in his position near the fire. He scowled blackly. What the devil was the matter with him? Had it been
that
long since he'd had a woman?
A trifle embarrassed by his own reactions to a complete stranger, Nicolas cleared his throat and said, “Uh, no, there's nothing else I need for the time being. Just something to eat when it is ready. You may go now.”
Hardly daring to believe that she was going to escape so easily, Tess turned and sent him a blinding smile . . . which proved to be a bad mistake. Their eyes met across the room and time stood still, the world falling away until there was just the two of them staring at each other.
Tess could not have moved if her life had depended upon it. As if waking from a long and terrible dream to find herself safe and cherished, she stared at his face, taking in the high cheekbones and the bold jut of his nose. It was an arrogant face, a hard face, but it was those large, thickly lashed eyes, eyes of such a compelling blackness that she felt as if she were drowning in their unfathomable darkness every time she met them, that made him more than just a handsome man. Those eyes and that mouth . . .
Her gaze dropped to his lips, almost dreamily traveling over its chiseled shape. The upper lip was thin, with a hint of cruelty about it, but the lower lip was full and generous, a sensual curve inherent in its form. As she stared at it, the urge to touch it with her own became almost unbearable. She knew what those lips would feel like against her own, how warm they would be, how firm and knowing they would be as they moved on hers.... Hardly aware of what she was doing, the need to be in his arms suddenly overpowering, she began to drift slowly toward him.
As transfixed as she, Nicolas met her in the middle of the room, his arms sweeping her into a powerful embrace as his head lowered and his mouth met hers. Drowning in the sweetness he found, he pulled her closer, the soft brush of her body against his utter magic.
His kiss was everything Tess had known it would be, the warmth of his lips, their firm, expert movement upon her own pure heaven. Ardently she returned his caress, her body molding itself eagerly against his long length. They kissed for an endless time, neither aware of the raging storm outside or the extreme oddity of their sudden, overpowering attraction to each other.
It was only when his hand cupped one small breast, his fingers tugging urgently at the hard nipple beneath the worn pink gown, that sanity returned to Tess. Stunned at how effortlessly she had gone into his arms, appalled that she had gone into his arms at all, she jerked away violently, pushing frantically against his chest. “Oh, don't!” she exclaimed breathlessly, hardly able to believe that she was actually in his embrace and had been kissing him. “Please let me go—there is some mistake!”
Foggily, still gripped by the most powerful passion he had ever known in his life, Nicolas regarded her distressed features. A mistake? A mirthless laugh rose up inside of him. There was no mistake. The swift beating of his heart, the hungry yearning that twisted in his belly, and the hard, throbbing ache between his thighs were unmistakable. He had wanted other women before, but not like this.
Never
like this! Lightning had struck him when he'd kissed her—even now he felt as if he were consumed by fire. And she dared to call it a mistake?
But like Tess, as desire slowly faded, he became aware of the insanity of his actions and his hold on her loosened. Had he gone mad? She was a stranger—a mere tavern maid—and while he had tumbled his share of willing wenches in the past, he'd never been faced with quite this sort of situation. He couldn't deny that sometimes he had awakened in strange surroundings with an unfamiliar woman lying in bed with him. But that had always been after a night of deep drinking, when to escape the horrors of war or the pain of Maryanne's betrayal, he had deliberately gone in search of the sweet oblivion to be found in a pair of soft, welcoming arms. Lust he had no trouble identifying, nor the sudden urge to find out what her mouth and body would feel like mated to his—those emotions he understood. It was the queer feeling of possession, the odd sense of protectiveness intertwined with desire for this woman that disturbed him....

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