Arabella (22 page)

             
Harry had sworn he loved her but within a few months he had tired of her.  Gervase did not love her, he merely desired her.  It was unlikely that their relationship would last longer than a few months.

             
Arabella pouted at her reflection.  She imagined Gervase would be pleased with her.  She had ordered a celebration dinner for them to be served in the small dining parlour and she was wearing the most stylish gown she could find.  He would have his answer and must be satisfied.

             
She was about to go downstairs when she heard the heavy footsteps of a man coming down the hall and braced herself.  Her future depended on his not changing his mind about wanting her as his mistress.

             
'Arabella…' Gervase began as he saw her.  'You went out…damn it!  Where did you get that gown?'

             
'From the armoire,' she said, startled by the flash of temper in his eyes.  Now what had she done to upset him?  'Does it not become me?'

             
'No, it does not,' Gervase said harshly.  'I gave you money to buy clothes.  What did you do with it?'

             
'I was not in the mood for buying clothes – and I did not know if Madame Suzanne would serve me.'  Arabella's head went up.  'It appears that I am not fit to mix in decent society now.'

             
'You have been to your aunt's,' Gervase said and nodded.  'I'll have her eating out of your hand before she's done – and the seamstress will be delighted to serve you.  Take that gown off and put on the dress Mrs Bumpstead provided for now.'

             
'I shall not wear that dowdy thing!'

             
'You will take off what you are wearing this minute.'

             
'No, I shall not.'  Arabella set her face stubbornly.  'You may have bought me but you do not own my soul.  You cannot make me do anything I don't want to do.'

             
'Take it off or I'll do it for you.'

             
Arabella held her breath.  She looked him in the eyes.

             
'I shall not…ohhh!' She gave a little scream as he descended on her purposefully.  'Don't you dare, Gervase.  I shall fight you…'

             
'Do as you wish, my sweet,' he said and reached out to grab hold of her.  'You shall not wear this dress or any of the others you found in my armoire.  I forbid it, Arabella.'

             
'I hate…' she began, but broke off with a gasp as he ripped the bodice of her gown apart, the silken ties tearing through eyelets and  costly material.  'You have ruined it…'

             
'No, you ruined it,' he said and ripped at it again.  'Better it should lie in shreds than be worn by any other than she.'

             
'Who was she?' Arabella asked stung by unreasoning jealousy.  He must have loved the owner of this gown very much to feel so strongly about her gowns.  'Tell me!  Oh, you are a brute and a beast and I hate you.'

             
Gervase glared at her.  'All the better,' he murmured.  'But I think we'll put that statement to the test, my sweet.'

             
Before Arabella knew what he meant to do, he swooped on her, lifting her off her feet and slinging her across his shoulder as if she were a sack of fodder for his horse.  With utter disregard for her fists that pummelled against his back, he tossed her on to the bed and then began to discard his own clothes, dropping them to lie on the floor.  His body was lean and hard, honed to supreme fitness.  She realised that he was a much finer specimen of male beauty than Harry, who had been a little thicker about his waist and not as vital in certain private parts.  Fully aroused, Gervase's manhood was almost terrifying to behold and set a fire burning inside her. Yet still she fought him, fought the desire that was beginning to rage inside her.

             
'Don't you dare to touch me…' she cried her breath thready with a mixture of fear and excitement.

             
'I intend to do more than touch you, Bella.  It's time you learned your lesson.'

             
'I shall hate you.'

             
'You have always hated me.'

             
'No, I didn't.  I merely disliked you – but I shall hate you now.'

             
'We don't need this between us…'  Gervase took a handful of the delicate silk and ripped it right down the skirt.  Arabella was wearing nothing beneath it and he laughed as he saw the soft, pearly pink glow of her skin.  'I do not think a lady would go dressed as you do, my precious – but then, you are no lady, are you, Bella?'

             
'I could not find any under garments…'

             
'That is just as well,' Gervase said hoarsely.  'I like things the way they are…' He bent his head to kiss her breasts and then as she tore at his hair gave a yelp of pain.  'So you are determined to fight me, Bella?'

             
'Don't you…'

             
She got no further.  His mouth was on hers, cutting off her protests as he held her arms at her sides, preventing her from taking any revenge on his body as he kissed her until she subsided breathlessly.  He raised his head to look down at her as she stared up at him, a smoky passion in her eyes that made him groan with wanting.

             
'Why fight me, Bella?  You know you want this as much as I do – have always wanted it.  We were made for each other.  I knew it from the start but you…'

             
'I…don't want to fight you…' she admitted in a choked voice.  Her body was submitting, needing the excitement and fulfilment he offered, though her spirit resisted. 'But you were such a brute to me…'

             
'Yes, I was, but you made me angry.  Those things are not for you or any woman but
her.
'

             
'I shan't touch them again.'

             
'You will be mine,' Gervase muttered as he bent his head to nuzzle her breasts, his tongue delicately laving the peaked nipples, his teeth grazing her so that she writhed and arched her back as the pleasure began to mount.  'No more talk of fighting, my precious.  We shall show them all how to live.  Everything you ever wanted shall be yours – jewels, clothes, a house and carriage of your own…they will all envy you, those fine ladies who will not acknowledge you.'

             
'Just make me happy,' she said softly, her mouth parting in a sigh of invitation.  'Don't hurt me or desert me, Gervase.  Make me yours and keep me safe…'

             
'My sweet temptress,' he muttered his hand moving to part her legs.  'How I have longed for this moment – for you.'

             
And then he was on her and inside her, filling her, stretching her, making her cry out as she accommodated the huge throbbing length of him, deeper and deeper until she screamed her pleasure aloud.  Never, never, had she known such ecstasy as this.  Her body fit with his as if it had been made for this one purpose, throbbing like the strings of a harp as he played on her, bringing forth sweet music.  It was like a heavenly choir or the rushing wind meeting the oncoming tide of a restless sea.  She did not know whether she lived or had died and gone to paradise, and when at last his body jerked and hers rippled with spasms of pleasure, she clawed his shoulder as she cried out his name.

             
'Gervase….'

             
Gervase said nothing, lying with his face against her breasts for a few moments, until he rolled away from her, leaving the bed to pull on a dressing robe.  He turned and looked at her as she began to take off the ruined remnants of the gown.

             
'Here, wear this,' he said and tossed her another robe.  'I'll have dinner served in my private sitting room.  You need not wear the gown you so despise if you do not wish it.  I imagined you would buy something better – but tomorrow we shall put things right.'

             
'I should have done as you told me.'

             
'It might have been better.'  Gervase grinned wickedly.  'On the other hand…I think it turned out well enough.  I am going to bathe and change – and I suggest you make yourself comfortable, my sweet.  We shall dine together and then see if we can find other ways to amuse ourselves…'

*

'Ah, Madame Suzanne,' Gervase said, at his most charming when shown into the seamstress's private parlour the next morning.  'It was kind of you to see us at short notice.  As perhaps you can see, Mrs Tucker is desperate.  She is the widow of one of my dearest friends and her clothes were lost at sea, forcing her to wear a most unsuitable gown to accompany me here this morning.'

             
The seamstress's eyes went over Arabella assessingly.  She did not for one moment believe his story or that Arabella was a widow, for if she were not mistaken she had dressed the young lady before.  However, the Marquis of Roxbourne was a valued customer and she would not think of refusing him.  Even if the girl were his mistress, she would be welcome here for his name and wealth made all respectable.

             
'I shall be delighted to work a little miracle for you, my lord,' she said.  'If you return in two hours you shall see a change I believe you will appreciate.'

             
'Ah, but I have no wish to leave,' Gervase told her with a smile.  'I believe I shall stay here and watch this transformation.  My friend has been away from London too long and may need my advice, you see.' He sat down in an elegant chair that hardly looked able to bear his weight and stretched out his long legs before him.

             
Madame Suzanne saw exactly.  The girl was his mistress and he intended to supervise her clothes.  If he was taking such an interest she must be important to him. Lucky girl! she thought a little enviously.

             
'Then we shall begin with a few gowns I have made up, which could be adjusted to fit Mrs Tucker's figure, and then move on to a more extensive wardrobe – if that is your wish, my lord?'

             
'Mrs Tucker lost everything,' Gervase replied.  'We shall need a great deal of your time and attention to repair the loss, madame.'

             
The seamstress was positively purring as she clapped her hands, urging her girls into action.  In the next few minutes a succession of gowns was shown to them, three of which Gervase chose for Arabella to try on.  The others were dismissed as not stylish enough, and after some consultation with her head seamstress, Madame Suzanne brought out a magnificent evening gown.

             
'This was ordered by a lady who has not seen fit to collect it,' she said.  'I will let you have it, my lord, as a special favour.'

             
'Try it on, Bella,' Gervase said.  'And then we'll look at materials and patterns – but you will need something for this evening, and this may do.'

             
Arabella would have preferred to choose her own gowns, but she was feeling in a mellow mood that morning, and could not fail to be impressed by the way Madame Suzanne was fawning over him.  She half expected the woman to become less obliging when they retired to the fitting room but was pleased to discover that her respectful manner did not change.  It seemed that Gervase's money could buy almost anything.

             
The gown she tried first was a dark blue heavy damask silk with silver embroidery and a daring neckline that swept low over her full breasts.  The birth of her child had left her with even more fullness in that region, though fortunately her waist had returned to its original size, which, when laced, was not much larger than the span of a man's hands.

             
'We should perhaps add a gauze fichu to give you a little more modesty,' the seamstress said.  'But we shall ask for milord's opinion.'

             
'I think the gown will do very well as it is,' Arabella said.  'But I would not mind a spangled shawl to wear over my shoulders if I felt a little cool.'

             
'Ah yes, that would be charming,' the seamstress said and snapped her fingers.  A filmy shawl was produced and arranged and Arabella went back to the private parlour to show Gervase the result.

             
'Yes, that will do very well for this evening,' he said with a nod of approval.  'And the other gowns will do for daywear until Madame Suzanne has your clothes ready.  And now we shall choose the materials and I will tell you what I have in mind, madame.'

             
'You have something special in mind, my lord?'

             
'Yes.  I think it may tax even your talents, madame, but I require a wardrobe of some magnificence for my dear friend.  Arabella is to be dressed in the first stare as befits a woman of rank and wealth, but the gowns will follow a certain style that is a little out of the ordinary.  I want people to be aware of her charms but that they should not be displayed too blatantly.  You understand me?  She is not an innocent debutante but a woman of great beauty, as I believe you will agree?'