Truth about Leo (15 page)

“You are not certain, though,” he said, sliding one arm under her knee and spreading her open in a way that left her feeling intensely vulnerable. “Put your other leg around my hip, my darling…yes, like that. Look at me, Dagmar. No, not my cock, my eyes. Look at my eyes.”

She dragged her gaze up from where he was poised to pierce her and met his eyes. They were dark and warm and filled with amusement and something else that made her suddenly not quite so concerned. Passion, that was it, his eyes were brimming with passion for her, and seeing as how he had given her great pleasure with his mouth and fingers—she made a mental note to write about that in her new diary—it was only right and fitting that she should do the same for him by allowing him to tear her asunder.

“Oh!” she said a moment later, that exclamation doing duty once again as pretty much the only thing she could think of to say. The sensation of him sliding into her body was one that opened her eyes, so to speak. It wasn't unpleasant at first, but that changed in a flash, and suddenly she was clutching Leo's shoulder (thankfully remembering in time not to harm the injured one) and telling him in no uncertain terms what she thought of him in furious Danish.

“Be patient,” he said, interrupting her tirade. “Just…no, don't move, not yet…give it a few minutes. Oh dear God, woman, how on earth can you feel this way? Do you have any idea what you're doing to me? No, you can't know, but I will tell you. It's splendid, Dagmar. It's utterly and completely splendid, and I never want to stop doing this.”

Dagmar looked around wildly for something with which she could hit him on the head, some large, blunt object that would knock him silly so that she could remove his person from where it was assaulting hers. And just as she was stretching to the side for an oil lamp, something magical happened. The pain eased—not completely but enough that when she reached for the lamp, a wave of delicious awareness rippled through her.

She blinked and gave a small experimental move to the other side. Another ripple. “Oh,” she said for the third time, but this “Oh” came out more like a purr. And by the time Leo, his breath hot on her neck as he began kissing her shoulder, mumbled something that sounded like an apology, she had decided that he hadn't been incorrect about fitting together, and perhaps she had been wrong estimating the amount of space available in her lady secret.

“I'm sorry that I caused you pain,” Leo said some minutes later, after he had rolled off her. “I've never been with a virgin before, so I had no idea if it was better to go slowly with a hymen or quickly. I thought quickly might be best.”

Dagmar conducted a quick assessment of her body. She had a wonderful sense of languid liquidness, as if she was made up of the molten gold that she had felt coated her earlier. She was still a bit sore, but on the whole, she felt that was a reasonable price to pay for the earlier ecstasy. “Do you swear that it is gone?”

“What is?” Leo raised his head and winced. Dagmar clicked her tongue and rose, making a face as she had a twinge of pain as well. In addition to that, she was unpleasantly messy in areas where she preferred not to be messy.

She used one of the cloths to tidy herself before slipping her nightdress over her head and moving over to check Leo's bandage. “The maidenhair that you said you had to break through and which I assume was the cause of all the pain. Stop moving, and I won't hurt you.”

“Maiden
head
, and yes, it's gone now. You are officially a woman.” Leo lay back and let her unwind the bandage.

“I have been a woman for many years. Ah, good, your wound hasn't opened up again. You must be more careful, though.”

“I couldn't stop myself once I got started,” Leo answered, his voice slower and deeper than normal. Dagmar figured he was on the very last bit of strength he possessed and was momentarily pleased that he had saved up enough energy to finally answer all those questions she had. “It'll be better the next…”

“Time,” she finished for him. She sat looking down at him, this man who hadn't wanted a wife but who had amazingly seemed to take her in stride. He really was a handsome devil with those dark eyes and the dark curls, and that chin that for some reason made her legs feel wobbly.

She put a hand on his chest and wondered at the little spurt of possessiveness that followed.
He's mine
, she thought and enjoyed the way that sounded.
He's my husband, and I believe I will remain married to him
.

She fell asleep tucked up next to him, the warmth of his body seeping pleasantly into hers, and for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, felt that all was right with the world.

Needlework is an important skill for any young lady to possess, royal or otherwise. It gives beauty where there is none and is not, as some misguided princesses might claim, a torment put on earth to bring on madness, the vapors, and incontinence. A princess shouldn't even know the word incontinence, let alone charge their needlework instructress with possessing such an unfortunate condition. It is likewise unacceptable for said princess to force several cups of tea upon the instructress with the sole objective of using the poor woman's subsequent retreat to the conveniences as a means of escape to the crown prince's orchard in order to steal his apples.

—Princess Christian of Sonderburg-Beck's Guide for Her Daughter's Illumination and Betterment

Leo whistled a cheerful tune to himself as he tripped lightly down the stairs, somewhat amazed that he should feel so very excellent that morning. Oh, there had been the slight disconcerting note when he woke up and discovered that his wife had evidently arisen before him—tradition dictated that the husband be the first to rise on the morning following a wedding night—but he was becoming more comfortable with the knowledge that Dagmar, while many things, was not going to be a wife who followed tradition.

“Wife,” he said aloud to himself as he reached the ground floor. The word had a nice ring to it, one that was warm and round and bespoke of many enjoyable activities, both physical and mental. But mostly physical. “I have a wife.”

“So I have been given to understand, m'lord,” said the slow, somber tones of a man of much dignity. A black, terribly upright figure drifted into Leo's view. “Assuming, that is, that your lordship didn't bring a harlot to your bed, but I feel that eventuality is a remote one.” He paused, gave Leo the gimlet eye, and then added, “I have been mistaken in the past, however.”

“Your estimation of my character is indeed accurate in that I would never bring a woman of low repute to a home in which I was residing as a guest. My own home is completely another matter, of course.”

“Of course,” murmured Manfred. “Gentlemen must have their fun.”

Leo pondered the conversational ramifications of explaining that he wasn't in the least bit serious about bringing prostitutes to his not-yet-existent home, but decided in the end that he was in too much of a good mood to set the butler straight. “I can assure you that an entertaining night's sleep is always high on my list. You wouldn't know how to turn a handspring, would you?”

“M'lord?” Manfred eyed him with disfavor. Leo could feel the disapproval rolling off him in nearly palpable waves.

“I had a sudden desire to turn a few, but upon reflection, my shoulder is probably not up to it, and my wife would have more than a few things to say should I harm it. Have you seen said female this extraordinarily glorious morning?”

“It is raining outside, m'lord,” Manfred said, gesturing toward a rain-splattered window with a sense of gloomy pleasure. “I fear the phrase ‘extraordinarily glorious' might be a bit effusive.”

“Not if you've spent the night as I did,” Leo said with a jaunty wiggle of his head.

Manfred sighed the sigh of the heavily martyred and opened a door for Leo. “The breakfast room, m'lord.”

“You might want to stifle your exuberant expressions of jubilation,” Leo said in an undertone as he passed the butler. “Such wanton gaiety is unseemly in butlers. Good morning, my dear. Philip. Mrs. Hayes. I see I am the last down to breakfast.”

Dagmar looked up from where she was perusing a sheet of newspaper. He paused next to her chair, his body wonderfully aware of hers, and for a brief moment, thought seriously of escorting her upstairs so that he could introduce her to one or two variations of last night's activities that had occurred to him while shaving that morning, but upon reflection, he decided that not only was it rude to act the eager bridegroom in front of his hosts, but also that Dagmar might be a little tender in places he preferred to be hale and hearty.

“You were sleeping so soundly, I hated to wake you up. Will you take me to this?” She held out the paper and tapped on a paragraph.

He squinted at it, mentally bemoaning the fact that it was getting harder and harder to read the fine print of the newspaper. “You wish to go look at a sewer?”

“No, it's what they found while digging the sewer. It's all sorts of Roman artifacts and tiles and possibly a temple or two. Doesn't that sound exciting? Dearest Papa always had an interest in ancient things, and I used to read books to him about Roman invasions. The newspaper says that visitors can see the finds and the remains of Celts and Romans and the possible temple for the next few days before the digging continues. Won't that be wonderful to see?”

She looked so hopeful, Leo didn't have the heart to tell her that he hadn't the slightest interest in matters archaeological. “It's almost too exciting to bear, I agree, but I'm afraid I can't take you there today. As I told Philip last night, Lord Salter was unable to see me for any length of time last night, and I am to return today and make a thorough report, so I will be tied up at the Home Office until after luncheon.”

“You must see him again?” Dagmar's shoulders slumped. “I had hopes we'd be able to look for a house today.” She glanced down the table and added quickly, “Not that we don't appreciate your generous offer to stay with you and Louisa, Mr. Dalton.”

Philip Dalton smiled. “I would wonder if you did not wish to set up your own home, so I assure you that no offense is taken. As it happens, I've always been interested in ancient Roman history as well, so I would be happy to take you to see the archaeological dig, Princess Dagmar.”

“That won't be necessary.” Leo was startled to find the statement came from his own mouth. Before he could wonder at the sudden need to keep Dagmar from going off alone with men who were not him, he continued, “I will take Dagmar to see the bodies and urns and whatever else they've dug up tomorrow. Will that suit you, my dear?”

“Yes, so long as we aren't delayed much longer than that. Dearest Papa would never rest easy in his grave if he thought I had the opportunity to see a Roman temple and missed it.”

“Indeed,” the little companion said. Leo hadn't noticed her at first, since she was sitting at the far end of the table. He loaded up a plate with sirloin, potatoes, and kidneys before taking a seat opposite his wife, the better to admire her while he ate. “Indeed, His Serene Highness was most fascinated by all things of the ancient mien. I recall once both Their Serene Highnesses, and of course, Princess Dagmar, going to visit a Viking vessel that had been unearthed in a field that a farmer had tilled. It was most exciting.”

“There were sacrifices with the ship,” Dagmar said with obvious dark pleasure. “It was loaded with them, fairly dripping with bones and skulls and pots of sacrificial oils and unguents. Papa wanted to keep one of the skeletons, but Mama insisted that it was unclean. Such a shame. I would dearly have loved one for my own.”

Silence fell for a few minutes while everyone mulled over Dagmar's somewhat startling appreciation of the macabre. Leo decided it just added to her charm and wondered where the average man about town could acquire a skeleton.

“Why don't we make a party of it?” Louisa suggested, pouring Leo a cup of tea before topping off her own cup. “I should like to see ancient Romans as well, although I own I don't care much about the thought of being near a sewer, and I absolutely will not touch a skeleton.”

Dagmar didn't seem to mind having company on her visit to the remains, so they made a plan to set out early the next morning.

“If you like, Philip and I will be happy to show you about London,” Louisa Hayes offered as Dagmar sipped at a cup of hot chocolate. “I haven't been back here for more than two decades, so I would enjoy seeing the sights as well.”

“I'm afraid I am promised to Lady Rosse and her niece this morning,” Dagmar answered, and Leo felt a slight easing around his chest. He gave himself a mental shake, telling himself he would not become one of those men who were so jealous that they couldn't allow other men to be in company with their wives. “We are to meet with her dressmaker, and then Julia promised to give me a little tour of London. She used to live here.”

“Many years ago,” the companion said quickly. “But I do have such fond memories of growing up in Cheapside, and I yearn to show my dearest Princess Dagmar the site of my beloved old home.”

Louisa frowned at Julia and murmured something noncommittal. Leo, having wolfed down his breakfast (a habit that came from too many days spent in battle-scarred Russia), rose and bowed to the company. “I will take my leave then, as Lord Salter was most particular in his request that I present myself promptly this morning. My dear, I will leave you in Plum's capable hands. Don't stint yourself when it comes to ordering gowns and such. Order several of them. And all those underpinning bits you'll need.” He leaned down to kiss her cheek, got an eyeful of her cleavage, and added just for her ears, “But make damned sure they cover your breasts. I don't need every man with a pair of eyes in his head ogling you.”

Dagmar giggled and, rising, saw him to the door, promising that she would spend as much of his money as humanly possible.

“Within reason,” he cautioned, visions of her bedecked in jewels dancing in his head. “Neither one of us would be happy being bankrupted.”

“I have spent my entire life giving the appearance of wealth that never existed,” she replied complacently. “I am well versed in living in poverty and have no desire to continue that lifestyle. Leo, about last night…” She stopped and, to his delight, blushed.

He leaned close so that the footman on duty couldn't hear. “Last night was splendid. I know you don't have that same opinion, but I promise you that you soon will. Possibly tonight, if your body recovers quickly enough.”

She met his gaze despite the blush. “Does the fact that you can't annul me mean that you have forgiven me for marrying you, and you want to remain married? Together? With each other?”

He knew exactly what she was asking but even so, hesitated. “I certainly don't wish for an annulment nor for you to live over a shop. And if I ever catch you soliciting recommendations for places to live from the random individuals that you encounter while strolling around, you, dear wife, will not like what follows.”

She stiffened. “Was that a threat of physical violence?”

“Why?” he asked, curious. “Does that frighten you?”

“On the contrary, it makes me think you are an ogre. Only such a monster would use his strength against someone weaker than he was.”

Her nostrils flared in a way that utterly delighted him. She was a hair's breadth away from poking him in the chest, he just knew that, and was sorely tempted to push her over the edge just to see what she'd do, but alas, time was passing and he had things to do. “As it happens, I don't condone violence against anyone, unless it's a matter of life or death, so you can stop looking at me like that. I simply meant to imply that you should not be so trusting of people with whom you haven't an acquaintance, especially where our lodgings are concerned.”

“Oh.” She relaxed and gave him a sunny smile that he felt down to his toenails. “I didn't really ask that many people if they knew of a house we could take; just one or two nice-looking ladies, and they simply looked scandalized and escaped me as quickly as possible. I noticed that you didn't answer my question, though. Is that because you don't want to be married to me, but you don't wish to hurt my feelings because you took my maidenhead last night?”

“No, it's because here and now is not the time to discuss our future. Enjoy your shopping.”

She made a face. “I like being able to have new clothes but dislike standing for hours while being fitted.”

“You'll have a good time with Plum and Thom,” he predicted, then kissed her swiftly, lest he remain to do the job in a more thorough manner, and left the house with yet another whistle on his lips and a fine appreciation of the evening to come.

He was organizing the packing of his belongings and making arrangements with Mrs. Lovelily for his removal from her premises, when a noise from the room next to his had him striding into the narrow hallway.

“Nick?” A tall figure loomed out of the dim light.

“There you are. I wondered when you would show up. Yes, I'm back from the Continent. Got in a few weeks ago, although I was immediately called to Islington and only just returned yesterday. I expected to see you last night, though, after catching an eyeful of your entertainment. But…you're injured?”

Entertainment? He couldn't mean Dagmar—there was no way she would not inform Nick just who she was. Perhaps Nick took the companion for a woman of ill repute. “Yes, in Copenhagen. I was evidently attacked by a couple soldiers. Did you know that Nelson attacked?”

“Read about it in the papers, but I don't have the contacts that you have, so I didn't know anything but what was reported. Were you caught in that battle? I thought you were off to Germany after St. Petersburg?”

“I was en route when I got caught up.” The clock that squatted on the mantelpiece in the sitting room chimed, reminding him that he had a quarter of an hour to make his appointment. “Damn and blast, I have Lord Salter waiting for me and must leave. But I am glad to see you back, Nick. I had no idea you were in town, but I'm glad you are. Harry thought you might be able to help me with a little problem. I'll try to find you once I have Salter settled, and we can discuss the matter.”

He shouted for the manservant, who brought him his coat, and gave swift instructions for the packing of his belongings. Nick, frowning, waited until he was done, asked, “You saw Harry? He's in town? Er…just him or the whole family?”