Royal's Bride (17 page)

Then she moaned and parted her lips and her small
tongue slid over his and any rational thought that remained inside his head slipped away. Desire crashed over him, burned through his blood. Lust sank its claws into his flesh and all he could think of was having the beautiful, exotic creature in his arms.

He plunged his tongue into her mouth, ravished her lips, cupped her breast through her thin silk blouse. Her nipple peaked instantly, pressing hotly into his palm. He pulled the string on the gathered neckline, drew the silk blouse off her shoulder. She was wearing only a chemise and he tugged it down as well, baring her lovely, apple-round breasts.

His body clenched as he bent his head and suckled her there, laved and tasted, turned to her other breast and ministered to it, as well. A soft moan came from her throat, urging him on, and her hands slid into his hair. She trembled as he nipped the rose-hued tip, circled it with his tongue, then pulled the diamond-hard point into his mouth. Returning to her lips, he drank from them as if they were nectar, breathed her in as if he couldn’t get enough.

He was hard. Aching and throbbing with every heartbeat. Lifting her into his arms, he carried her over to the bed and settled her on the edge. He kissed her again, shoved up her bright silk skirts and began to open the front of his trousers.

She wanted a man. Well, he would give her what she wanted. He moved between her legs, looked up in time to see that she had pulled off her straight black wig. Silver-blond hair tumbled loose from its pins and cascaded round her slender shoulders. Soft tendrils framed her cheeks.

“Lily…” he said, the sight of her lovely pale face clearing some of the fog from his lust-starved brain. He stood there frozen, fighting to pull himself under control. “Good Christ…what am I doing?”

Lily looked up at him. “You are making love to me, Royal. I just wanted you to know it was me and not some other woman.”

But in truth he had always known it was her. There had never been anyone else for him, not since the day he had met her.

“Lily…” he whispered, saying her name like a prayer, knowing it was Lily he had wanted all along, that the anger seething through him was jealousy, that he was furious she had given her attentions to every man but him.

Leaning down, he kissed her, more softly this time, nibbling the corners of her mouth, his tongue gliding over her lips. “Make me stop, Lily. Tell me you don’t want this.”

Instead, she reached up, looped her arms round his neck and pulled his mouth back down to hers. Parting her lips under his, she encouraged the hot thrust of his tongue. Royal kissed her deeply, his fingers sliding into her silky pale hair. When he looked at her now, he saw Lily, the woman he wanted far more than the Gypsy, the woman he needed above all others.

Her thin silk skirts had ridden up her legs. Nestled as he was between her thighs, he could feel her mound against his hardness. His erection throbbed, ached for release. He tried to tell himself to stop, but his will was gone, his thoughts only of Lily and being inside her.

He popped the buttons on the front of his trousers and freed himself, positioned himself at the entrance to her
passage. The bed was high, giving him perfect access. He spread her thighs wide apart, watched her lovely eyes slowly close as he eased himself inside her.

Reaching her maidenhead should have given him pause. Instead, he felt a wild exhilaration that no other man had possessed her. She belonged to him and had since the moment he had seen her lying like a silver-haired angel in the glistening white snow.

Royal leaned over her, braced himself on his elbows, kissed her deeply. As he drove himself home, a soft cry slipped from her lips. Lily froze at the painful breach of her womanhood, and Royal clamped down on the urge to thrust himself even farther inside.

“I’m sorry, love, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I’m all right.” Her body relaxed and she managed a tremulous smile that wrapped around his heart. “I wanted you to be the one.”

“Lily…”

She moved just then, taking him deeper, and Royal groaned. His body caught fire at the feel of her gloving him so sweetly and the last of his control completely faded. Plunging wildly, he took her again and again, absorbing the pleasure that was sweeter than any he had ever known. To his relief and joy, Lily cried out his name, and her body clenched around him, her womb pulsing against his erection as she reached a shattering release.

Royal came an instant later, driving into her fiercely, his muscles straining as he spilled himself inside her.

His heart was pounding, his chest rising and falling. For several moments, neither of them moved. Then reality began to set in. The sound of the orchestra playing downstairs, an occasional burst of laughter.

Regret slowly filled him, replacing the euphoria of only moments ago. He could scarcely believe what he had done.

“Royal…” Eyes still closed, Lily sighed his name on a whisper of air and Royal felt a tightening in his chest.

Sweet God, he had taken Lily like some paid-for strumpet, both of them still half-dressed, lying across someone else’s bed in a house where at any moment they might be discovered. Cursing himself, unable to believe he had lost control so badly, he eased himself from the warmth of her body though it took every ounce of his will.

Lily’s eyes slowly opened. She watched him as he refastened his clothes and she began to do the same, pulling her chemise up to cover her lovely breasts, donning her scarlet silk blouse.

Royal moved to the dresser, poured water from the pitcher into the basin, dampened a linen cloth and returned to where she lay. Lily took the cloth and turned away to cleanse the virginal blood from her thighs. More guilt assailed him. He had taken what he wanted and there was nothing he could do to make it right.

Royal returned the soiled linen to the basin, walked back to where Lily sat on the edge of the bed. She looked lovely and fragile and he couldn’t believe he had broken her trust and violated her the way he had.

“Lily…sweetheart, I am so sorry.”

She held up a hand as if to halt his words. “Please, I beg you, Royal, do not say you are sorry.”

“I ruined you, but I can’t marry you. Of course I am sorry.”

Tears filled her eyes and Royal’s heart twisted. He
reached for her as she came up off the bed, but she only shook her head. “I don’t want your pity, Royal. I never have.” She fumbled with her clothes, finally got them all back in place. Grabbing her wig, she settled it on her head and began to stuff her pale hair up underneath.

She looked up at him. “I could have stopped you. You know that is true.”

It was. He never would have taken her against her will. Lily had wanted him as much as he had wanted her. If anything, that made him feel worse.

“It is past time I left,” she said. “I’ll use the back stairs. My uncle will be waiting in the alley to see me home.”

Royal just stood there, feeling more miserable than he ever could recall.

He watched her walk to the door, her silk skirts flowing round her ankles, her hair once more as black as midnight, but this time he wasn’t fooled.

The woman was his sweet Lily. That had not changed.

Royal’s chest squeezed painfully as he watched her walk out of the room and quietly close the door.

D
ressed in a plain white cotton nightgown, Lily sat in the window seat of her bedroom. Tonight, everything in her life had changed. She was no longer a virgin and she was deeply in love with a man she could not have.

A thread of guilt trickled through her. She was Jocelyn’s cousin, no matter how distant, and Royal would soon be Jo’s husband. Perhaps she could have denied him if she had not been aware of her cousin’s tryst with Christopher Barclay and that Jo held no true feelings for the man she would wed.

Perhaps if things were different, Lily would have done the honorable thing and turned him away, but she would never truly know.

A familiar light knock sounded, drawing her attention to the door. Jocelyn was home, the last person Lily wished to see. But the bedroom door swung open and there she was, sweeping into the room like the royalty she would one day become.

“Lily! I saw the glow of your lamp beneath the door. I am so glad you are still awake!”

Lily managed a smile. “You look radiant. Your evening with Barclay must have gone well.”

Jocelyn beamed. “Lord—there are simply no words to describe it. Christopher was…he was…Passion is amazing, Lily. They try to keep us from knowing—our parents, the men we will marry. They don’t want us to find out. A man can have any woman he wants, but a woman…a woman is supposed to remain chaste. It is so unfair, Lily.”

Lily said nothing. Jo was right—it was unfair. And yet for Lily, there was no other man besides Royal she wanted or ever would.

Jocelyn sank onto the tapestry stool in front of the dresser. “It was fantastic, Lily. Christopher was so incredibly passionate and yet he was gentle.” She looked up at Lily and grinned. “I picked the perfect man to be my first lover.”

Lily swallowed, thinking she had picked exactly the wrong man to fall in love with. “What…what about Royal?”

“What about him? We are not yet wed. It is perfectly fine for him to do what he wishes until we are married—even after. Well, as far as I am concerned, it is perfectly fine for me, too.”

Lily had no idea what to say. How could she criticize Jo when she and Royal had done the same thing?

“I wish I could describe it, Lily. There is this feeling that comes over you at the end…It’s…it’s like floating among the stars. It’s like bursting into a thousand little pieces of sheer bliss. Lord, I never could have imagined.”

Neither could Lily—until tonight—though she had read about it. “The French call it
the little death
.”

Jocelyn turned, grinned. “Because it’s as if you died and went to heaven.”

Truly it was like heaven. But there was a price to pay for the pleasure. She had given a little part of herself to Royal, a part she would never get back.

“I just had to tell you, Lily. I was bursting to tell someone and there is no one else I trust the way I trust you.”

Fresh guilt washed over her. From the moment she had left the house party, Lily had told herself what she had done was wrong. But every time she thought of Royal and the yearning she had seen in his eyes, the need that only she seemed able to fill, she couldn’t make herself believe it. She refused to regret the brief moments of joy she had taken for herself.

But it
was
wrong, and deep down she knew it.

Jocelyn rose from the stool. “I had better get to bed. Mother thinks I went with the Stewarts to the Bergmans’ ball. My maid will still be up, waiting to help me undress.”

Jocelyn had lied to her parents. In order to begin her Gypsy charade, Lily had simply pled a headache and stayed upstairs in her room. As soon as the time was right, she had slipped down the backstairs and joined her uncle, who was waiting with a rented carriage in the alley behind the house.

Jo walked over and hugged her, taking Lily by surprise. “I just feel so wonderful.”

Lily looked at her cousin, saw the blush in her cheeks and her brilliant white smile. “I get the feeling this isn’t over. Surely you aren’t going to meet him again.”

Jo rolled her amazing violet eyes as if the answer were obvious. “But of course I am. I am not officially engaged. Until I am, I intend to do as I please.” She grinned. “And it pleases me greatly to make love with Christopher Barclay.”

Lily wished she could be so cavalier, that she could be with Royal again as they had been tonight and not feel the least bit guilty. “What…what if he gets you with child?”

Jocelyn arched a sleek dark eyebrow. “There are ways, Lily, to prevent such things. And Christopher is quite sophisticated in that regard.”

Lily said nothing. Dear God, she hadn’t considered until that moment, the consequences of what she and Royal had done. As far as she knew, Royal had taken no such precautions. Even now she could be carrying his babe.

Her heart lurched. Part of her was terrified of having a child out of wedlock. Another, deeper part secretly yearned to have Royal’s baby.

Jocelyn walked out of the room, smiling and humming a slightly off-key tune. As the door quietly closed, Lily turned her cheek to the icy windowpane and felt the tears begin to slide down her cheeks.

Royal paced the floor of the study in his town house. After a sleepless night, he was tired to the bone, his hair mussed from running his fingers through it. He glanced up at the sound of footfalls, breathed a sigh of relief as Sherry walked into the room.

Sheridan’s footsteps halted a few feet inside the door. “Good God, man, you look a fright. Has something happened? I thought things went very well last night.”

Even his sigh sounded weary. “The evening went exactly as planned. At least for the most part.”

“And that part has you looking like something the dog dragged in?”

Under different circumstances, Royal might have smiled. “I just didn’t sleep very well.”

Sherry nodded sagely. “You need a woman, my friend. Why don’t we pay a call at the Blue Dolphin tonight? The women there are exquisite—and extremely skillful at what they do. I promise you’ll feel better in the morning.”

“I don’t need a woman. I’ve already had a woman. That is the problem.”

One of Sherry’s light brown eyebrows went up. He propped a hip on the edge of Royal’s desk. “I am all ears.”

“I’ve ruined her, Sherry. I don’t know exactly how it happened, but the deed is well and truly done.” And though he had taken her virginity, all he could think of was having her again.

Sheridan shrugged. “So move up the wedding. If your heir comes a month early, no one will really care.”

Royal made a sound of exasperation. “It wasn’t Jocelyn, Sherry. It happened with Lily.”

“Oh, dear.”

“Quite.”

“I suppose I should have known. You have fancied the girl from the start.”

Royal raked a hand through his hair. “What the devil am I going to do? She might even now be carrying my child and there is no way I can marry her.”

“I gather you took no precautions.”

“None whatsoever. I was half out of my mind with lust. I don’t know what came over me.”

“I think that is fairly obvious. You didn’t force her, did you?”

He was appalled. “Of course not! We have always shared a certain…attraction. Last night it got out of hand.” Now,
there
was an understatement. He had never wanted anything as much as he wanted Lily. And when he had been inside her, her sweetness had filled him, touched him in a way he had never been touched before.

Sherry sighed. “Yes, well, sometimes these things happen. What we must decide now is how best to take care of Lily.”

“She is completely innocent in all of this. Somehow I have to make things right.”

Sherry slid down off the desk and paced over to the window. The garden was still barren, and not in the best condition. The grass was in need of clipping and wet leaves covered the gravel paths, but a weak sun slipped down through the naked branches, foretelling the coming of spring.

Sherry turned. “As you say, you must make things right and so there is only one thing to be done. You will simply have to find her a husband.”

Royal’s chest constricted. “How can I possibly do that? She has no money and I don’t have enough to provide her any sort of decent dowry.”

“No, but you will. As soon as you are married, you will have money to burn, more than enough to insure Lily marries well.”

His stomach rolled. He couldn’t imagine another man in Lily’s bed, another man making love to her.

He hadn’t realized Sherry had moved till he felt his friend’s hand on his shoulder. “I can see this isn’t what
you want. I know you have feelings for the girl. Perhaps the money isn’t so important. Perhaps you should marry her yourself.”

Until that moment, he hadn’t realized how badly he wanted to do just that.

He simply shook his head. “I can’t. I made a vow. I promised my father and I won’t break my word.”

Sherry squeezed his shoulder. “Then we had best get started. We’ll need to find someone suitable who will be willing—for a price—to overlook the fact that his bride is no longer a virgin.”

Royal just nodded. His mouth felt dry. His heart pumped dully. He would come up with a list of suitable candidates and then go over the list with Lily. Whatever it took, he would make certain she got whichever man she wanted.

It was the least he could do.

Lily worked all week getting her millinery shop ready to open. She cleaned and rearranged, swept and organized, anything to keep her mind off Royal and what had happened at the Nightingales’ soiree. For months, she had been fashioning hats, creating new styles, working till late into the evenings to make enough merchandise for the store she planned to open, enough to satisfy old customers and attract new clientele.

She glanced round the shop, pleased with the work she had done. The store was arranged to her satisfaction, the hats sitting in neat little rows: wide-brimmed bonnets, some with feathers, others trimmed with lace and ribbon, a cabriolet bonnet with false roses, lace caps in a dozen colors and several coal shuttle bonnets.

Proceeding to the desk behind the counter, she began the task of addressing notes to the ladies who had previously purchased merchandise, informing them of the location of her shop and the date it would officially open.

Her back was aching by the time she finished. She stretched and rose from her chair, glanced at the clock and saw that the afternoon had slipped away.

She couldn’t put it off any longer. It was time to go back to Meadowbrook and make preparations for the evening ahead. Tonight Madam Tsaya was attending a ball given by Lord March’s widowed sister, Lady Annabelle Townsend. The invitations made note of special entertainment in the form of Madam Tsaya, and apparently Preston Loomis had replied his intention to attend.

Jocelyn was invited and Lily meant to accompany her. As the evening progressed, she would slip away long enough to change into her Gypsy clothes then return downstairs as Madam Tsaya. She would appear briefly, make a few predictions to Royal’s friends, then go up and change back into her ball gown for the balance of the evening.

Lily sighed. If only Royal weren’t going to be there. If only she didn’t have to see him and especially not with Jo. Her moment of madness was over. Both of them knew it could never happen again. Still, instead of regretting what had occurred as Royal did, Lily treasured the memory of the incredible moments they had shared.

Satisfied that all was in order in the shop, she locked the door, walked to the corner and hailed a hansom. She arrived at Meadowbrook to find Jocelyn taking her afternoon nap. Lily wished she could lose herself in sleep, but the moment she closed her eyes, Royal’s handsome
face appeared, along with burning memories of their passionate encounter upstairs at the soiree.

Instead of napping, Lily surveyed her wardrobe, which grew each time Jocelyn tossed aside a gown. She chose one she had altered but never worn, a sea foam-green taffeta the color of her eyes.

At the ball tonight, Uncle Jack would arrive with her Gypsy costume. She would meet him in the garden behind the house, then take the clothes upstairs to change.

The hours slipped past. Lily was nervous by the time Jocelyn had finally finished dressing in a plum velvet gown, and the two of them were ready to leave. Though Matilda Caulfield would be acting as chaperone for the night, Lily didn’t think her brief disappearance would be noted. Neither Matilda nor her daughter paid much attention to Lily once they were caught up in the gaiety of the affair.

And tonight there would be entertainment in the form of Madam Tsaya. Lily couldn’t stop a smile at the thought of what her cousin would think of the Gypsy woman who would be present at the ball tonight.

“Did the mark show up?” Jack asked. It was nearly ten o’clock, the night pitch-dark and windy. Her uncle stood in the alley next to the simple carriage the duke had rented for their use.

“Loomis is here. I saw him a little bit earlier.”

“He’s curious. By tonight, you’ll have him hooked.” Jack held out a small cloth bag that held her costume, and Lily took it from his long-boned hand. “You got my message? You know what you’re to do?”