The Notorious Bridegroom (11 page)

“No, it appears luck is not with us tonight.” He hesitated. “The moon adds a shiny luster to your hair,” he murmured in amazement.

His comment startled Patience, who self-consciously put a hand to her wayward hair hanging over one shoulder.

“You need bright colors, the gray paints you pale. And so fair. Even by this darkness and a canvas of drab, you are an enchantment. A vision. The night appears to do you justice.”

“It would appear, my lord, that we both enjoy the night’s companionship.”

He leaned his elbows more solidly on the stone balcony railing, seeming to enjoy this moonlit conversation.

“That is so. Although the night spared me from pleasant dreams, that is, until I met you,” he told her cryptically. “Am I only dreaming you?”

Patience laughed softly. “No, I am well and truly here before you. A real woman with hopes and fears.”

“A beautiful woman like you should fear nothing. I almost believe you. I want to believe you are real.”

Until her brother’s plight was resolved, she did not know how to make him believe. “Please, my lord—”

Voices from the other side of the house heading in their direction cut short their conversation. Patience identified Sansouche’s voice immediately and began to panic. Although she knew he wouldn’t insult her in his lordship’s presence, she didn’t want him to discover her here. She looked around desperately for an escape path. A few of the countess’s guests lounged on the side terrace, blocking that exit.

Ignoring the earl’s presence, she raced to the door connected to the study and then to the one leading to the back parlor, but found them both locked. Her heart beat fiercely as she sensed her enemy’s imminent arrival.

“Patience,” the earl leaned down to whisper, “use the trellis and climb up to me,” he told her.

She looked at him blankly and then at the old trellis, patterned and cross-stitched with wandering vines and budding roses, then back to his lordship and said, “I can’t. With my arm, I don’t think I can pull myself up.”

“What are you more afraid of? Climbing the trellis or meeting our Frenchman?”

His reasoning brought her straight to the trellis. Studying it doubtfully, she wet her lips and grabbed a high wooden rung. Hitching her skirt to her waist, she began her ascent. She shut her fear of Sansouche out of her mind and concentrated on climbing the fanciful ladder. Any minute the Frenchman would stroll around the corner and catch her climbing the side of the house.
Please let me be in time, God,
she prayed fervently, her heart taking flight.

Her progress was slow with the use of only one hand, and having to use caution because the rungs were wet and slippery beneath her feet. As she grew closer to the top, she remembered her old fear of heights. Her destination actually had not looked that high from the ground. Despairingly, she felt prickly thorns pick at her bodice and further expose her white drawers.

Breathing heavily, she heard Sansouche bid his companion good night, and fear fueled her strength to boost herself the final distance. Looking up, she saw she would need the earl’s help to climb over the balcony railing.

He watched her climb with keen interest, admiration in his eyes. When she had almost reached the balcony, she stretched out her hand to him for assistance.

“Can I believe in you?” he asked, his face quite somber.

“What do you mean? Hurry, pull me over, Sansouche will arrive directly.”

“Tell me or I will let him find you. Is this a farce or are you not with Sansouche?”

His help was so close. She shook her head, pleading with him, “Please believe in me. I know nothing of this man, only that he frightens me,” she admitted. Footsteps rang on the walk around the corner.

Quickly, Londringham leaned over the side of the balcony and, taking Patience by the waist, pulled her over the top. Both stood motionless in each other’s arms as they heard the Frenchman stroll along the terrace, keeping to the dark side of the balcony, hidden from the bright moon’s gaze. Every few minutes, they heard his footsteps stop, but then he continued around the side of the house, heading toward the party on the side terrace.

She sighed with evident relief when a sudden gust of wind felt close on her legs. Both Patience and Bryce, for different reasons, were drawn to the sight of her drawers fluttering in the wind. Before she could untwine her skirt, they noticed a quite long rip, rending a gaping hole from knee to thigh exposing a pale curved thigh.

Patience ignored the earl’s gaze as she bent awkwardly to join the torn pieces of material together. Ruefully, she shook her head, acknowledging the impossibility of the task.
Why did this have to happen now? I must retain some dignity in this situation,
she thought, feeling a flush warm her face.

Uncomfortable under his scrutiny, she tried to pull down her skirt to hide the tear.

Bryce placed his hand over the hand that wrestled with her skirt and held it lightly in his own. With his other hand, he reached up to gently stroke her cheek.

Patience, captured by his intense blue gaze, could scarcely breathe, so enraptured was she by his spell. When she nervously wet her lips, this tiny, unconscious movement prompted Bryce to groan under his breath before he pulled her into his arms, seeking more of what she wanted to offer him.

His left arm held her comfortably to his side as his right hand carefully cushioned her head while he brought his mouth down on her moist lips, gently at first, then with increasing pressure.

She succumbed to the tender caress of his lips as the blood in her veins whirled and sang in pure delight. No thoughts or conscience disturbed her dream of experiencing his powerful touch. With eyes closed, she gloried in his instruction, wanting to give as much as she received. She eagerly welcomed his seeking tongue, claiming possession with his demanding kiss.

When first one arm, then her other arm wrapped shyly around his neck, Bryce knew soul-saving victory. Her passionate response enveloped him in such pleasure, he determined it would be only the beginning of her secrets he intended to learn tonight. His hand drifted down to her shoulder and rested on her breast. Beneath the thin muslin bodice, he felt her heart pounding with a rhythm that matched his own. Contentment could not end before he claimed the exquisitely rounded breast hidden from his touch.

He enjoyed softly igniting her breast to desire through her covering. But it was not enough. The three top buttons came undone easily, giving him access to the treasure he sought beneath her chemise. He felt a shudder surge through the young woman, which brought his own blood-filling arousal to painful life.

Relieved to find this enchantress as spellbound as he was, he felt her low moan against his lips as her body leaned into his with surprising ardor. He delighted in her shy but ardent embrace as he stroked her lithe buttocks, and continued his assault on the smooth feel of her breast and hardened nipple.

He sought her mouth with a punishing kiss before branding her with his wet-blazing tongue, marking his way slowly and pointedly down to her swelling breast exposed by his fervent hand. She relished his powerful touch and welcomed his hot tongue on her heated skin, her body instinctively arching for more of what only he could give her.

Any coherent thought had fled at his first sweeping touch, his caresses overwhelming her senses. He sought to drain her of her life, her energy, but she quickly grasped the knowledge that instead of taking from her, he was giving—vitality, a renewal of awareness, a teaching of pleasure never known before that would alter her life forever. And she relished each lesson, easily memorizing the senses and images which would always remain a part of her.

He pulled and tugged on her nipple with his mouth, sucking and lathing, as it hardened in response to his driving tongue. When at last he reluctantly dragged his mouth from her breast with a long suck, she whimpered softly in despair. Was this the end? Their passions spiraled her toward the unknown, with no end in sight, his touch hard yet somehow gentle at the same time.

Her hands grasped tightly in his thick hair as his mouth began to wander again. She felt his hands at her waist luring her to the cold balcony floor, welcoming to her heated flesh.

His touch burned her with a fever, sure to set her aflame as she leaned her arm on his shoulder. She lay across the floor, her head pillowed by his muscular arm, her hair sweeping the ground. Trapped in dream heat, his body and skillful hands taught her what to do, how to move, how to feel.

She secretly smiled when she caught the tempest blazing in his blue scrutiny, both of them astonished by their shared passion. Once again he returned to her lips, wanting a refreshment only she could offer him, tasting her honeyed mouth, as a thirsty man seeks a deep well.

She hardly recognized her own body which created a combustion of kaleidoscopic senses. While his mouth teased her sensitive lips, his free hand caressed an aroused nipple again before sliding down to her waist and continuing to the newly opened gap in her drawers. His feather touch on her exposed thigh made her jump in surprise, but he immediately calmed her with soft whispers, gentling her fears.

As tumultuous and confusing feelings tornadoed through her senses, she wondered what would come next, not wanting the embrace to end, ever. All those long years of wonder were unraveling at a dizzying pace. She clutched Bryce tightly, for he was both her sanity and her madness. And he was real.

Bryce felt overwhelmed by her innocent desire and acceptance of his touch. He knew she was innocent, because he wanted to believe tonight that the world was good, and she felt so right in his arms. If this was not true, he didn’t want to know, ignoring any rationality for his motives.

Her hair flowed like a dark current over his hand and felt like silk to his touch. He wanted to make her body sing with music to make the angels envious as he watched her soft, undulating body seek a release.

He deftly eased his hand up her thigh to the downy patch of curly hair and moist heat. He heard her gasp and try to block his hand from continuing its search, but issuing a slow breath to control his own fires raging within, he whispered in her ear, “Shh…sweet dream. Let me do a good deed tonight. For I need saving. I promise not to hurt you.”

She opened her eyes to see if his promise reached his revealing eyes. His somber expression and face taut with passion convinced her, she was safe, here in his arms.

As he slowly stroked her velvety lips, her wet heat helped his fingers slide farther into her warm passage. Again, she jerked in his arms, bewildered by her body’s responsiveness to his tender caresses. And she now knew, she must know, where he was so persuasively taking her.

He paused, leaning his brow on hers to catch his breath. He tried desperately to maintain control over his own desires, almost afraid to disappoint her, but it was costing him his power and reasoning. She was so wonderful to touch, he thought as he breathed in her awakening, aroused body.

When he recognized that he could not continue much longer next to this exquisite woman without reaching his own climax, he doubled his efforts to bring her the pleasure she sought by lifting her hips to meet his insistent fingers. He could tell by her breathing that she was almost there. The soft, almost-cooing sighs teased his already-frenzied arousal.

He wanted to be inside her when she found her release, but her desire had overwhelmed him. When she shuddered in his arms with a sweet intensity, he held her captured, feeling her heart pounding, and her breath short.

Quiet in his arms a few minutes later, Patience was reluctant to leave this strange new world of enveloping warmth. She hated to disrupt the tender feelings and pleasures he had taught her and brought her. But she decided to face her fears and him by peeking through her long lashes to discover him watching her intently, his face a smooth mask of tightly controlled emotion.

He leaned down and whispered, “Let’s finish our lessons in my bed, lovely lady. For I long to know more of your secrets,” his voice husky with promise.

But his invitation abruptly returned Patience to thoughts of the hard balcony, and to confusion and fear about what they had just done and what Bryce wanted to continue. Blimey! How could she have forgotten Rupert and her need to save him from their enemy? Possibly from this man who held her so tightly in his arms?

Quickly, she rolled out of his arms onto the hard stone floor, jerked down her skirts, and hastily buttoned her bodice with shaky fingers. Not daring to look at him, in case she would stand accused of her own seduction in his eyes, with a shaky voice, she murmured, “That is not possible, my lord. I, I, cannot.”

Bryce rose slowly on one knee, careful not to place too much pressure on his injured leg, now stiff from staying in one position too long, his body trembling with unspent passion. He walked stiffly to the balcony railing, drawing deep breaths of air to cool his thoughts. Looking at the stars, his back to her, he said, “The night seems to have lost its magic. Perhaps you should return where you came from.” He looked over one shoulder as she continued righting her clothing. Disappointment and resignation lined his words.

She knew she had disappointed him, but he didn’t seem angry, which was a slight relief. Wanting to offer him comfort, her emotions tore her apart, but her head ruled to make a quick escape. It suddenly occurred to her that she might no longer have employment.

“Do you wish me to leave Paddock Green, my lord?” thinking this his intent and waiting with anxious breath for his reply.

“No, I still need your assistance. This is your home for now,” he told her enigmatically.

She nodded and turned toward the doorway, hoping her legs would carry her safely to her room. She took one last look back to find Bryce again watching the darkness as he had done earlier. Recognition dawned on Patience that she was indebted to him for his generosity. No one usually gave her anything, they only took from her.
Oh, why did he have to be my enemy? And why don’t I feel something akin to regret?
She fled from the shadow of the man left to the company of the night.

Although Bryce did not see her leave, he knew the moment she was gone. Perhaps it was the perfume in her hair or the sighs she had given to the night air that stayed with him. She couldn’t be real, he thought in disillusionment.
She’s certainly bewitched me to where I no longer care if she’s guilty or innocent. I only know I want to hold her in my arms again.

To halt these reflections which served merely to strengthen his ardor, he thought of his brother and his mission. Nothing should matter but that before long he would have the French spy in his grasp and discover the identity of the woman who had led his brother to his death.

Late that night, the same dream came to him after his battle with consciousness had won. Even in the throes of a deep sleep, the dream reached out and pulled him in unwillingly, reliving that fateful night.

With the piercing wind at his back, he stepped over black rotted trees encased in stone-hard ground, accustomed to finding his way in the dark, even on enemy soil. The night as his companion had long kept his secrets and since the danger was as much a part of him as breathing, he had never given it a nod before, would not even acknowledge its existence. Until now. His younger brother, Edward, was missing.

The famous English spy, known only as the “Black Ghost,” had arrived offshore earlier to discover that his brother, who served as a lieutenant on the HMS
Gauntlet,
had mysteriously left the ship an hour before. The Black Ghost had wasted little time arguing with the
Gauntlet
’s captain, Keegan Kilkennen, that he could handle the search alone. Their only clue to Edward’s whereabouts was from a sailor, who had overheard Edward mentioning the small village of Doume a few miles inland.

Although the Black Ghost had never been to this corner of France before, slipping in and out underneath the Corsican’s nose had become almost like a game to him. His mission was to provide vital information to the Foreign Secretary about Bonaparte’s flotilla and his plans for invading England.

As Kilkennen and the Black Ghost stealthily crept over the uneven terrain, they were wary of any sound from the French patrols. The Black Ghost, disguised as a priest—in severe black clothes, low-crowned hat, and white neckcloth—carried a worn prayer book for proper effect. To some the book promised salvation, but this was a man who had little need of others’ faith. The book’s sole purpose was to conceal false French papers—to be used if he was taken prisoner—which rested neatly underneath the faded leather cover.

The English spy, whose real identity was Bryce Andover, Earl of Londringham, had long ago determined that his younger brother would be his heir and continue the long Saxon line. But Edward had been adamant about sailing the seas, and Bryce could not stop him.

He swore under his breath as tiny white puffs escaped from his lips. Edward should have been safely back at their home, Paddock Green. He should never have joined the Royal Navy.

As Bryce slipped into the dark lair of the forest, with Kilkennen a breath away, a chilling thought wormed into his gut: his younger brother was missing because of him. Bryce had always felt he would be prepared when the Devil eventually presented his card. But the wrong man had received it.

Now, ironically garbed in a priest’s clothing, the spy wondered if he knew the words to offer an appeal to God.

The two determined men weaved their way among the silent trees, at times becoming part of the landscape. A mile inland when the faint lights of a remote village blurred in the distance, they quickened their steps, still undetected. Unsure where to look, Bryce planned to leave no stone unturned in his search. He would not leave France without his brother.

The full moon briefly gleamed silver through the trees’ branches, alighting a tiny abandoned cottage far off to their right. Quiet since their journey had begun, Bryce called softly to his friend, “Wait.” He thought he heard something. He cocked his head, his senses sharpened from the years of playing the game and a strong will to stay alive.

The incautious moan happened again. Definitely human. Definitely in pain.