The Masquerade (23 page)

Her heart jumped, the endearment thrilling her. She obeyed, allowing her frozen lips to part, and his tongue stole inside her mouth. He kissed her deeply but slowly and Lizzie’s heart began to pick up a heavy, hammering beat.

Still kissing her, he reached between their bodies and stroked close to where his shaft was buried.

Lizzie felt herself throb around him.

And suddenly there was pleasure sparking inside of her. She remained sore, but it no longer seemed quite so important. Testing out this new desire, she held on to him and shifted her hips. A fire flamed, flesh tingled.

The pain was gone; instead, a raging desire had replaced it.

“Oh, Tyrell,” she cried, reaching for his hips and urging hers hard against him.

He inhaled harshly. “I am about to become undone,” he said.

Lizzie did not care. He was buried deeply in her—they were finally joined as one—and waves of pleasure were radiating from him to her and from her to him. She gasped, the pleasure becoming blinding. “Tyrell!”

He thrust again and again, with some restraint and even more urgency, and Lizzie exploded, sobbing his name. She heard him cry out, felt him climax even as she continued to do so.

She had never loved him more. Her body was filled with its joyous warmth, and she thought that she could feel his hot seed inside of her. She would give anything to have his child.

Lizzie realized he lay on top of her, a huge weight, still inside of her and hardly diminished in size. Full comprehension returned. They had made love.

He started to move away from her.

Lizzie flung her arms around him and held him tight. “Don’t,” she said.

He tensed. His tone odd, he said, “Are you all right?”

She burst into a smile and kissed his cheek. “Yes, my lord, I am wonderful!”

He did not smile in return. “Have I hurt you?”

She thought that he might have, just a bit, but she did not care, because he was stiffening inside her and she was throbbing in greed and anticipation. “No.”

“I don’t think that I believe you,” he said softly. He lifted his head and looked down at her.

Lizzie grinned at him. “Oh, Tyrell,” she said. “Please.”

His eyes darkened. “You have me at a disadvantage,
madam,” he said, but he moved inside her, just twice, and she whimpered, clutching him tightly.

His lashes lowered. “I don’t want to restrain myself,” he whispered thickly, moving now very slow and deep.

“Then don’t,” she gasped, barely able to wait for where he would lead.

“I think I must, for now.” Suddenly he moaned, surging as deeply as possible into her.

“Hurry,” Lizzie instructed.

His eyes opened and he smiled. “Are you always in such a rush?”

Very boldly, smiling in return, she said, “Do you really mind?”

He began to move, never taking his gaze from her.

Closing her eyes, Lizzie held on to the love of her life, and together, they found paradise.

L
izzie awoke, aware of the sunlight pouring into her bedroom. She wondered how she had overslept, and when she turned sleepily onto her side, her entire body ached, especially the muscles in her thighs. She felt as if she had marched mile after mile, like a soldier. In that instant, Lizzie recalled every moment of the night before and she was wide-awake.

She was Tyrell’s mistress now.

Tyrell had made love to her. Once it had been the dream of her life. Now, with the elation, there was some shame. Lizzie wished she could forget about Blanche, but it was impossible.

Blanche did not love Tyrell and she did. However, that rationalization felt absurd.

Still, Tyrell had backed her into a corner, and unless she left Ned, there was no way to deny him. But now her secret was safe. She was Tyrell’s mistress, and he would never take Ned away from her. Finally, relief began. Lizzie thought about all of their lovemaking. At times his kisses had been incredibly tender, at other times dark, demanding and hard. Lizzie was almost certain that he harbored some affection for her.

She finally realized that she was alone and she jerked
to sit up, staring at the empty place where he had been, dismayed that he was gone. Then she felt eyes upon her.

Lizzie tensed, looking past the foot of the bed. Tyrell was seated in a chair not far from the hearth, fully dressed. His legs were crossed and he was staring at her very intently, his gaze beyond steady, beyond unwavering. He did not move.

She was mildly alarmed. His expression was so dispassionate and he was so still that he could have been a wax impression of himself. What did that mean? “Good morning,” she said, sending him a small, uncertain smile. Realizing her state of undress, she pulled the sheets up to her neck.

His gaze flickered. “Good morning. You do not need to cover yourself or behave modestly with me. I enjoy looking at you.”

Lizzie flushed with pleasure, absolutely thrilled with his praise and barely able to believe he meant it. Then her elation dulled. He still refused to smile, yet he was not angry, either, so what was this? Had she disappointed him in some way? “It is the broad light of day.”

“Yes, it is,” he agreed.

She hesitated. “Are you displeased with me, my lord?”

Finally, his mouth seemed to move, although he did not smile yet. “No. No, I am hardly displeased.” His face seemed to tense, his jaw flexed. “How are you this morning?”

She started in surprise. Was he
worried
about her? “Quite well, my lord, and I do think you must know why.” She felt herself blush and she glanced at her toes. How could she be so bold?

He slowly got to his feet. She sat very still as he approached the bed. “Are you not well, my lord?” she asked carefully. Hadn’t he enjoyed their passion, too?

His face tightened. “If you are asking me if I have enjoyed being in your bed, I think the answer is obvious.”

She had not a clue as to what he meant.

He softened and touched her cheek briefly. “You are the most passionate woman I have ever met. I meant it when I said we were well matched, you and I.”

She tried to breathe. “And that means?”

“It means I enjoyed myself immensely—perhaps too much.” His stare was dark. “Did I hurt you?” he asked bluntly.

She was surprised. “Of course not.”

“I am asking for the truth, Elizabeth.” He hesitated. “As I noticed, you had not been with a man in a very long time. Your body did not easily accept mine.”

“Last night was wonderful, my lord! I have no regrets!” She could have amended that last statement, of course. Blanche loomed between them again.

“I am afraid that I do,” he said flatly.

She was in disbelief. “You regret last night?”

His face appeared in danger of cracking. “I have always prided myself on being not just a gentleman, but a considerate one, as well. I was hardly considerate of you last night. In fact, I was extremely selfish. I owe you an apology, Elizabeth, if you will accept it.”

She gaped. “You owe me no such thing! I am fine, and you were more than considerate—you were so tender, so kind!”

He remained standing very stiffly at attention. “I would never hurt you,” he said. “Not with any purpose.”

“It was inevitable, was it not?” Lizzie whispered, because she was thinking about her virginity. She immediately blushed and wished she had not said that.

Grimly he looked away.

Lizzie got to her feet, taking the sheet with her. “My
lord…As we said, it has been some time. But I am fine, really and—”

He faced her now. “You should have told me,” he said softly, even dangerously. “And I would have been prepared to woo you far more slowly than I did.”

Lizzie did not know what to say.

He cleared his throat. “I have decided to go to Wicklowe alone.”

“Alone?” Dismay and disbelief assailed her.

“As I have already shown you, I am a man of extreme appetites, at least where you are concerned. Frankly, my self-control is seriously lacking and I do not trust myself. You need some rest. You will stay here and in a week or so I will send for you and the boy.”

“No,” Lizzie said flatly. She hardly knew how much time she had to be with him, but sooner or later, it would run out.

“No? You refute my wishes?” He was incredulous.

“Yes,” she said fiercely. “I am coming with you as we planned.”

Unexpectedly, he smiled. “You are very bold, Elizabeth. Come here.”

“What?”

He pulled her into his arms. “I am
not
coming to your bed tonight,” he whispered, looking deeply into her eyes.

Her heart, already racing, sped impossibly faster. She found herself smiling at him, aware of the inescapable fact that he was aroused. The future no longer seemed worrisome or pressing. In fact, it now escaped her mind completely. “But you seem to be in need of my bed right now, my lord. Are you sure you will not change your mind?”

His smile vanished. “I need you,” he said frankly, “and not the way it has thus far been. My blood is raging, Elizabeth, it is
raging.
”

She went still. She understood his meaning. He wanted her without having to exercise any caution or restraint. Imagining what it would be like, she was exhilarated. With her body already aroused to a feverish pitch, she wondered how she might seduce him into her bed—right there, right then.

“My blood is raging for you,” he said, releasing her and stepping back. And as if he understood, he gave her a wary look.

“I am glad,” she said, meaning it with all of her heart. “My lord?” she began softly.

“No!”

Her cheeks felt hot. “Then we will wait.”

“Yes, we will.” He smiled tightly then. “Already you rule the day.” He bowed. “We will leave in the late afternoon. It is a twelve-hour trip to Wicklowe—we spend the night at an inn. Until then.”

As it was hardly noon and the day was already a glorious one, with just a few cotton-candy clouds drifting in a vivid blue sky, Lizzie settled herself and Ned outside in the gardens on a large wool blanket. Ned was busy with his toys and Lizzie grasped her knees, pulling them to her chest, hugging herself and unable to keep from smiling. Maybe Tyrell was right. He had promised her that she would not be displeased with their arrangement, and in that moment, she was not.

“Lizzie! Lizzie!”

Lizzie turned, delighted to hear Georgie’s voice. Instantly she became alarmed, for Georgie was practically running, as if something were very wrong. Lizzie stood, barefoot and without stockings, as Georgie reached her. She took one look at her sister’s pale face and pink nose and thought she had been crying. Georgie never wept.

“Is it Mama?”

“No—yes!” Georgie cried. “She has said she will disown me if I refuse to marry Peter! Last night he spoke with Papa and set a date for mid-August!”

Lizzie put her arm around her. Georgie was trembling. “What did you say?”

“I kept a smile on my face until that odious toad left. Then I realized that I cannot marry that man. I have been fooling myself to think so. I told Mama and Papa that I would prefer to enter a convent than marry him, and I meant it!”

“You are not Catholic,” Lizzie remarked.

“Papa pointed that out—I told him I would convert. And that was when Mama began to have a heart attack. She rushed to lie down, complaining of pains in her chest, all the while bemoaning having such a willful daughter as myself!”

“Is she all right?” Lizzie gasped, worried.

Georgie sent her a disgusted look. “I am now convinced that Mama is as fit as any of us. These attacks of hers, these spells of swooning, they are theatrics, Lizzie, to get us to bend to her will.

“And of course, having an attack was not enough,” Georgie continued. “She pointed out your unfortunate situation and made it clear she would die—
die
—if I disgraced the family any further. And Papa took her side. Until your downfall, Lizzie, he was most sympathetic as far as Peter is concerned. Now he sides with Mama. He is afraid of further disgrace.”

Lizzie was ashamed of herself. She had been happy—not perfectly so, but she was most definitely in love—when she was the cause of her family’s ruined reputation. “This is my fault, isn’t it?”

“No, it is Anna’s fault. Here we are, suffering because
of her utter lack of morals, while she lives in wedded bliss with her handsome husband.” Georgie cried furiously.

Some ancient anger sparked in Lizzie’s breast. It was unfair that she and Georgie were suffering so, while Anna had the perfect marriage and the perfect life. “Anna never meant for either of us to suffer because of her one mistake.” She spoke very quietly now, refusing to succumb to self-pity or untoward and unkind accusations against her sister.

“I doubt it was her one mistake,” Georgie said bitterly.

Lizzie stiffened. “What does that mean?” she asked carefully. Did Georgie know the truth about Anna’s philandering?

“I don’t think Tyrell de Warenne was her first lover, Lizzie. I think the good ladies of Limerick called her wild and vain for a reason. No one flirted more than she did.”

Even though Anna had admitted her sins, the confession had been a private one and Lizzie knew they must not discuss Anna this way. “Anna’s nature is light and carefree and can easily be mistaken for forward behavior,” she said, “when nothing forward was intended.”

“You will never cease defending her, will you? Even when she took Tyrell from you.”

Lizzie looked away. She did not want to discuss that painful past, not ever again.

And Georgie understood. She sighed. “I am sorry. But then, I have always had a small temper and you have always had a charitable and forgiving nature. I shall try to be more like you, Lizzie.”

Wanting to lighten their mood, Lizzie said, “I do not think I am your best role model.” Images of Tyrell as he made love to her came to mind, causing her skin to prickle and tingle.

Georgie looked at her.

Lizzie knew she blushed.

Georgie’s eyes widened with comprehension. “Oh,” she said after a long pause.

Lizzie tried not to smile and failed. “I know that what we are doing is wrong. I don’t want to be so happy when you are so distressed. But Georgie, I do love him so.”

“Oh, my,” Georgie gasped, her eyes remaining huge. Then she cried, “If you can be happy, Lizzie, then seize the moment. No one deserves some happiness more than you.”

Lizzie sat pulling her knees to her chest. “I want you to find some happiness, as well. I should hate for you to spend your life in a marriage that is a prison, Georgie.”

She shuddered. “Papa will not help me out of this engagement. I thought I could go through with it for the family’s sake, for our reputation, but I simply cannot stand that man. If Mama will not change her mind, I am going to leave home, convert to Catholicism and join the sisters at St. Mary’s.”

A sudden idea occurred to Lizzie. She seized her sister’s hand. “Georgie, I have a far more simple solution.”

Her sister turned to her, her expression so hopeful that it broke Lizzie’s heart. “You do?”

“Yes, I do. You will come with me to Wicklowe. We are leaving this afternoon. Do not bother to return to Raven Hall for your things—I will have a servant pick up your belongings. You will write both Mama and Papa and Mr. Harold, informing one and all that the engagement is off. And you can stay with me as long as you like.” Lizzie smiled.

“But…how can you offer me such a circumstance? Don’t you have to ask Tyrell?” Georgie gasped, trembling.

Lizzie smiled to herself. “I will ask him,” she said, “but he will not mind. I am rather certain of it.”

Lizzie lay on her back, smiling at the sky. Georgie was telling the story of the three bears and the big bad wolf
to Ned, who sat with a transfixed expression on his face. Lizzie was listening to her sister, but mostly, she was dreaming about Tyrell. She sighed, smiling up at the passing clouds. Moving to Wicklowe felt odd and wonderful, all at once—as if they had become a family and were moving into their own home like any married couple. She refused to think about Blanche now.

Georgie stopped in midsentence.

“More!” Ned shouted.

Lizzie turned to look at them and saw Rory McBane striding across the lawns toward them.

She sat up as her heart began to wildly race. Rory never faltered, his strides filled with purpose, and he was close enough now for Lizzie to see how strained his expression was.

She was frantic. What would Tyrell do if he found out that she had lied to him? Was it possible that he would be thrilled that Ned was his child—or would his feelings of affection once again turn to suspicion, mistrust and even hatred? Lizzie got to her feet, wringing her hands. Rory was about to destroy her world!

Georgie leapt up. “I will send him away! Take Ned and go back to the house.”

Lizzie grasped her wrist. “No. I don’t think there is any stopping him.”

But Georgie shook free and planted herself directly in front of Lizzie. “Good afternoon, Mr. McBane,” she said, her anxiety reflected in her eyes.

He was forced to pause. He barely bowed. “Miss Fitzgerald. I would like a word with your sister, please.”