The Prince of Eden (43 page)

"Take what you wish," she countered. "But take it as you would from a whore, for there are no ladies present in this arena."

He started to protest her last words, but decided against it. In the beauty of their surroundings, in the honesty with which they stood before each other, words seemed to have no place. Yet still he hesitated, wondering for the first time in his life, if he could perform adequately. In the past, all his encounters had been with women who knew what to expect. Even dear Charlotte had known a husband. Now he knew that he stood before a virgin, a virginity made complex by his realization that she was trying so hard to deny it, and made doubly complex by his love for her.

For just a moment it occurred to him that perhaps he shouldn't have led her here, that perhaps they should have waited until they had fled Eden, waited for the wedding ceremony in Edinburgh.

But something about her now suggested that there would be no waiting, that indeed she'd waited long enough. "Please," she whispered, as though suffering as he had suffered earlier. "Teach me so that I may know what's at the core of this world." She stepped toward him. "The time is so short."

Time so short! God, how the words cut into him, reminding him in spite of everything that she still was clinging to her foolish notion of a perfect now, five days of bliss before she entered the prison of the future.

Then this must be perfect. And with that in mind, he lifted his hand to her, inviting her to place hers atop it and in the fashion of a splendid promenade he began walking with her in a slow deliberate manner around the glen, their eyes locked on each other and holding fast.

After two such circles, which he'd executed for the sole purpose of letting her adjust to her nakedness and his as well, he paused, looked closely into her face to see if he saw the slightest sign of failing nerves. He didn't.

Then gently he led her to the center of the glen, released her hand, and lay flat on his back, taking the weight of her surprised eyes. "Come," he invited, extending a hand upward.

Without hesitation, though clearly bewildered, she did as she was told until she was standing beside him, looking down. Still not speaking, never lifting his eyes from her face, he guided her forward until she was straddling him, then drew her down until she was kneeling over him. The first sensation of those smooth white legs parting over him caused him to press his head backward and close his eyes. He had consciously selected his position, afraid that the classic stance of domination and submission might alarm her. Lead her gently, he counseled himself, in spite of the blood racing through his body. Let her control it, gauge it, judge it as she wishes, take as much or as little.

This she did. She drew herself forward, stopping short for a moment, then lifting herself and with gentle guidance from him, received him, tentatively at first, still supporting her body, her eyes closed, head thrown back.

His hands were on her hips, still allowing her to gauge and control the penetration. He felt himself going deeper and deeper into that warm country, the sensation spreading to all parts of his body, though still in control.

Then abruptly she removed her hands from his chest and with a short sharp cry took all of him, her mouth open as though in imitation of her body, her knees wide spread, her hands braced behind her as though to support her in this new sensation.

Still in control, his hands moved up from her hips to her breasts. Starting at her nipples and using the tips of his fingers, he made gentle round circles, ever-enlarging. He saw her body beautifully arched before him, connected to him at the base.

She shifted upon him in subtle movements as though to test the sensation. The sight of her before him in the throes of such enjoyment made him impatient to complete the act. But again and with the strictest of self-control, he took his cue from her, watched closely all angles of her face, certain that before long she would require more.

And she did. A few moments later, the slight turnings of her body had become writhings, her mouth continuously open. Then at last he took the lead with a sense of no turning back, rolled her gently onto her back, angled his body downward between her legs and commenced exploring that dark canal to its very limit.

At first he was afraid he'd moved too rapidly as he caught sight of her face beneath him, her eyes distended as though shocked by his sudden violence. But as he continued, he felt her hips lifting, her body joining the rhythm, and when his mouth closed about her breast, he felt her arms go around his back and lock him to her.

Still acceleration, deeper, harder, her hands on his buttocks as though to hold him inside her, her legs lifting in an attempt to receive more of him, her head thrashing from side to side as the moment drew nearer.

Then without warning she gave one sharp cry, followed by a series of low reflexive moans. He felt her fingernails on his back as she clung to him as though in fear of falling. He permitted his own release as together they held each other for protection against the cataclysmic upheaval taking place in their bodies.

Edward had never experienced such a sensation, a slow hot shooting forward of such strength and duration that for a moment he felt as though his entire body would be consumed. Even after the peak of ecstasy had been reached, they continued to lie together, their bodies still locked and shuddering.

He raised himself and looked down upon her and saw something alarming in her pale face, eyes still closed, her forehead glistening with perspiration. He leaned forward and gently kissed her.

Her eyes opened then, though focused on no specific detail. There was moisture at the corners of the dark lashes, as though the experience had taken her to sublimity, then deposited her on the other side of despair. He felt his own emotions dangerously close to the surface and wanted to speak of his terrible love for her.

But apparently she was not in the mood for words and merely caressed his face, the mysterious grief in her eyes increasing until at last she lowered his head gently onto her breasts as though she did not want him to see the grief or the tears.

For an unaccountable number of minutes they lay thus. He felt her arms across his back holding him close, renewing their grasp now and then as though fearful that he might slip away.

Predictably, locked in the mutual embrace, it was only a matter of time before their passions surfaced again, still unsatiated, a more deliberate progression this time, both of them working to postpone the explosion as long as possible, each providing the other with the greatest possible stimulation, using hands and lips, pressure and sudden lack of pressure in skillful and gratifying ways. As the summit was approached, again the silence was broken with soft moans and cries to God, the instruments of their satisfaction simple and complex, their own bodies, their own hungers, their mutual love.

The pale green edge of the glen was turning black with late afternoon shadow when sorrowfully, begrudgingly, their bodies surrendered for the first time in long hours. As Edward lifted himself to one

side, he looked down on her, her legs still spread, her arms outflung, the look of grief still there, not in the least abated.

He knelt beside her and with his fingertips wiped the moisture from her forehead. "My dearest love," he whispered. Having been one with her for so long, the space between them seemed to swell. This disturbed him and caused him to speak with a force and bluntness which he instantly regretted. "Come," he ordered, rising to his knees, "we must leave here."

She looked up at him. "Why?" she asked. "It's early yet."

"Not just these woods," he added quickly. "We must leave Eden. Tonight. As soon as you can prepare your luggage."

He thought he detected a look of pleasure on her face as her hand with great and moving familiarity wandered gently over his chest and toward that part of him which obviously had brought her abundant pleasure. Dangerous sensations there. As the look of pleasure on her face broadened into almost coquettish delight, as her hand found its destination, he drew back and tried to look sternly down on her, though it was difficult, so difficult.

Slowly, as though to a beautiful child, he repeated, "We must leave here, Harriet. Tonight. We must put as much distance as possible between us and this place—"

Denied him, she withdrew her hand and stretched, her legs extended, her hands cupped about her breasts, eyes closed as though reliving in memory the recent sensations. "I don't know what you're talking about, Edward," she murmured sleepily.

He moved closer and held her face between his hands, forced her to look at him. "I'm talking about leaving here immediately in my carriage and traveling as far tonight as the horses will endure. I'm talking about Edinburgh, possibly four days hence, and a wedding ceremony after which you will be my wife."

Her attention was his now, clearly his, her eyes focused and unblinking. "And then?" she whispered.

The inexplicable expression of grief had returned to her eyes. But he ignored it and talked on. "And then," he concluded, "a life together, for all time—"

"Where?" she interrupted, as though challenging him.

"Wherever you wish," he smiled. "Scotland, Shropshire, London, here."

"Here?" she questioned. "I shouldn't think we would be terribly welcomed here."

"Perhaps not at first," he agreed. "But they will come around. In time. You'll see."

"My engagement was to have been announced tonight," she mused, her hands now seeking again on their own, and finding.

"There will be no engagement announcement," he said sternly, aware of her hands between his legs, stroking. He'd intended to say more, but with the softest of smiles, she straddled him again, angled their bodies together, and locked herself into place.

All hope of talk was merely a delusion. Joined again as one, her legs tightening around his back, he stood with her, his hands supporting her buttocks. In a soft expulsion of air, she lifted her head upward, her arms tightly laced behind his neck. And still holding her rigidly to him, he commenced turning in a rapid whirl, around and around, the centrifugal force centering on that point where their bodies were joined.

On this day of new and profound sensations, this apparently was yet another, as at the height of the whirlwind, he felt her legs tighten, saw her mouth open, her breath coming in short spasms. As the whirl subsided, he felt her fall limp against his chest, her legs in descent, touching ground, though still she clung to him.

He supported her until she had recovered, then urged, "Please, I beg you, we must hurry."

Slowly she disengaged herself from his arms. Without looking at him, she walked the short distance to her garments and commenced shaking out the gown. In a way he thought her lack of response strange and in another way, quite normal. She must be approaching exhaustion. At least she'd not contradicted or denied his words as she had done so often during the last few days. Obviously his plan had worked. Their time here together had won his case for him.

Quickly they dressed as though someone had called to them. She finished first, not having the complication of breeches and boots. As he adjusted his shirt, he watched her stare down at the spot where they first had lain, the grasses softly matted by the weight of their bodies. He was unable to see her face, but it wasn't necessary. He saw one hand reach down, smoothing the grasses as though now the spot was sacred.

Slowly he walked to where she knelt and lifted her up. To his distress he saw that she was weeping.

For a moment she looked directly at him as though wanting him to see her grief. Then amazingly her mood changed again in spite of her tears. She laughed and with the back of her hand made an attempt to dry her eyes. "There are many kinds of tears, Edward," she whispered. "These happen to be the good kind."

His instinct was to question her further, but at that moment she raised her head and kissed him with such sweetness, such tenderness

that he feh himself wordless. Then "Thank you, Edward," she smiled, the tears seeming to diminish. "I have never known such happiness, and if I never know it again, still I consider myself fortunate."

In the warmth of her love, he was only capable of treating the words singly. I-have-never-known-such-happiness. Then that was enough. And after he had clasped her to him in a final embrace, he urged again, "Come. We must hurry." Beyond the density of the glen he saw the blazing red twilight, knew that probably within the hour the guests would begin to stir themselves out of their late afternoon lethargy. The time was short. There was so much to do.

As he hurried her toward the hanging vines and beyond, he spoke incessantly, working out aloud for her benefit as well as his the specific details of their escape. "Take only what you need," he advised. "You can purchase more later, in Edinburgh, London, wherever. And I would advise that you pack without the assistance of your maid. Undoubtedly there's a bond of loyalty there. But she might be tempted to speak to your parents. Do you understand?"

All her concentration seemed to be focused on their passage through the thick underbrush. But she seemed to be listening and he was certain he saw her nod now and then.

"Also," he went on, simultaneously trying to clear a path for her as well as plot their future, "I think it would be wise if John Murrey parked the carriage outside the east wall of the castle, The watchmen will be busy at the front gate. I'll have John leave immediately on the pretext of exercising the horses. As soon as you are ready, come to the east wall, through the graveyard, and I'll be waiting. Do you understand?"

At that instant a low-hanging branch caught in her hair. With a soft cry, she drew back and dislodged it, her face obscured in shadows. He considered again seeking her confirmation, then decided against it. She seemed to be suffering intensely now from the difficult passage, her hands constantly outreaching against rude branches.

Finally ahead, he saw the clearing of the headlands.

With his arm protectively about her, he hurried her forward across the headlands, his attention divided between the castle and her silent demeanor. He considered granting her an interval of an hour's rest, but decided against it. They must move quickly or surely they would be found out. It was his intention to leave a letter, a diplomatic plea for understanding and forgiveness.