Candice Hern (23 page)

"Does it not look familiar? It is
Jataveshtitaka
."She looked at him quizzically.

"The twining of the creeper," he said, and winked."Oh! You said that word to me when ... when ..."

"Yes, when we made love the very first time, standing against that garden wall. You see? This is the position we used. The woman is wrapped around the man like a creeper around a tree. It is called
Jataveshtitaka
."

He pulled her to him, grabbed her skirt, and hiked it up to her waist. Running a hand along her bare thigh, he said, "Shall we try it again? Or perhaps just a little prelude."

His fingers reached higher and found her sex, and he smiled at how moist and warm she was already. He slipped a finger inside and stroked her gently while he nibbled his way up the elegant neck now arched in passion. When he felt her muscles tense, he used his thumb to massage the taut little nub at the core of her pleasure, until her whole body jerked once and then trembled as she cried out.

He held her close as her tremors subsided, stroking her hair and nuzzling her ear. Loving her.

"You are too good to me," she murmured against his shoulder. "Good
for
me."

"Nothing is too good for you, my huntress. Come. The afternoon is still young and there is one more room I want to show you."

* * *

Beatrice lay panting and spent in his arms, her back pressed against his damp chest and her neck arched to rest her head on his shoulder. "Is there a name for that one, too?" she asked in a breathless voice.

He tightened his arms around her. He breathing was equally ragged. The final few minutes of lovemaking had become extremely energetic. "It began as the
Dhenuka
, the Milch Cow, but I believe we created something entirely new."

Beatrice chuckled. "Milch Cow? I'm not sure I like the sound of that."

"All the positions in which the man takes the woman from behind are named after animals. For obvious reasons."

"I don't suppose you care to tell me how you learned such things?"

"No, I do not."

"Well, I can guess, anyway." No doubt he had been with numerous Indian courtesans. She could not imagine that the ordinary people of India had codified their sexual behavior. But the courtesans would have been well-trained and skilled, and would have taught him the terminology.

Her breath slowed and her body relaxed. She wiggled against him like a kitten. She loved the way his firm, warm body felt, and the way the coarse hair on his chest and legs teased her skin. It would be too easy to become accustomed to such bliss. Accustomed to Gabriel.

She looked about the room, which she had been too preoccupied to notice earlier. There were boxes and crates neatly stacked along one wall. More souvenirs from India? A strange jar-like object with a hose attached stood on the floor near a chair. Beatrice guessed that it was a hubble-bubble, a sort of water pipe that she had read about. A small bronze statue of a dancing figure with many pairs of arms stood on the mantel, over which hung an unexotic, perfectly English portrait of a woman. Beatrice was fairly certain it was the Duchess of Doncaster in her youth.

The walls were freshly painted, and the moldings and wainscoting were so pristine they must have been recently restored. Thayne would at least have a bedchamber ready to use, even if the rest of the house was still in disorder. The bed they lay in was a simple four-poster stripped of its hangings. He was probably having special bed hangings made with coronets as finials for the top corners. A marquess would require an important bed. Beatrice was rather glad that for this afternoon, anyway, it was incomplete and plain. She would feel less like she had betrayed his future wife in this bed than she would if his crest and coronet were staring her in the face.

She turned in his arms and lay on her side, facing him.

"I won't ask about how and from whom you learned all these exotic moves," she said, "but I am interested in how you know the Indian names. Did you learn the language while you were there?"

"I was there for over seven years, so I was bound to learn a thing or two." He grinned and stroked her arm with a finger. "I picked up Hindustani while there, and studied Persian before I left. I've always had an ear for languages. It's one of the reasons my father finally capitulated and allowed me to leave England. He knew I would be able to manage on my own with so many languages in my kit."

"He did not want you to go?"

"Of course not. I am his only son, his heir. He worried that I would get myself killed and never return." He continued to run his fingers slowly up and down her arm. "But I was dead set on having an adventure, and so we struck a bargain. First, I had to promise that before I reached the age of thirty, I would return to England and take up my responsibilities as his heir, which primarily meant finding a wife and setting up my nursery. He would allow me seven or eight years of adventuring, but no more."

"That is why you returned now? Because you are about to turn thirty?" Heavens, was he only twenty-nine?

"Yes, I am honoring my part of the bargain. But there was a second ducal caveat. I could go only with purpose and not strictly for random adventure. So he arranged for me to go to India on assignment for the government."

"What sort of assignment?"

"There had been considerable concern about French encroachment into India and about a possible threat of a Franco-Russian invasion through Persia. I was to be a sort of watchdog, to make sure the East India Company stood firm against a French threat."

Did that mean he had been a government spy? Beatrice did not ask, for she suspected he would not answer. "Does the French threat still exist?" she asked.

"No. Or at least it does not appear so at the moment." He moved her arm aside and began to trace a line with his fingers from the side of her breast, down her waist, over the curve of her hip, and back again. "When Lord Minto became governor-general," he went on, watching his fingers stroke her body, "he was adamant that any such threat be squashed. He sent out missions in all directions with the task of negotiating treaties with every important leader. I went along with Metcalfe to Punjab where we were finally able to settle a treaty with Ranjit Singh. I sat with the Amirs of Sind for a time, and also traveled into the Afghan. And I was sent to Java with Raffles. I saw just about every part of the region while I was there."

"Traveling by elephant."

He grinned and kissed the tip of her nose. "Sometimes, yes. And also on camelback. Or horseback."

"It was a grand adventure after all, then? It was everything you had hoped for?"

"The thing about adventures is that you never quite know what to expect, so I embarked on my travels with an open mind. But yes, it was a very grand adventure. I loved it, every minute of it. I only hope I will have a chance to visit India again one day."

"Tell me about India. What is it like?"

He looked at her intently, his brown eyes searching hers as though he believed she was merely making conversation and not truly interested. But she was. She had led a rather pedestrian, unadventurous life. In fact, lying here with Gabriel was the most adventurous thing she'd ever done. In more ways than one, he made her realize how much she had missed. She gave him a nod, prompting him to respond.

"How shall I describe India? Vast. Intoxicating. Colorful. Hot. Sticky. Monsoons so powerful that entire villages are swept away in an hour. Sand that stretches as far as the eye can see, but also fertile farmlands edged with palm groves and guava orchards. Field after field of white-budded cotton. Majestic mountains in the north and tropical beaches along the coasts. Bulbous white domes of temples and palaces. Crowded streets and noisy souks. Foods spiced with curries and peppers that both enflame and delight the tongue. But mostly it is the colors I will remember. The land is so often lacking in color that the people compensate by creating vivid hues everywhere you look. Nothing muted or pale. Everything is brilliant, jewel-like. Reds and greens and blues and purples that dazzle the eye. You cannot imagine it, Beatrice. It is like nothing you will ever see in England. We have color in our landscapes, but in India, it is the people who bring color to the land."

"In their clothing? Their fabrics?"

"Yes, the textiles are stunning. The way the women wrap themselves in such brightness is quite startling at first. And the men, too, with turbans of every color. The textiles are not only for clothing, though. Every bazaar stall is draped in brilliant shades of red and green and blue. Every pleasure pavilion is tented in vivid shades. And the wealthy people have fantastic gardens, forcing color into their landscape. Inside their palaces and pavilions and temples, the walls are set with vibrant painted tiles. In the Mughal courts, the tiles are decorated in floral and geometric patterns in glorious hues. I brought back stacks of miniature paintings that portray all the color I'm talking about. I will show them to you one day, when I have discovered where I packed them."

"I would like that. In fact, you make it sound so beautiful I am tempted to visit India myself."

He gave a sheepish smile, as though embarrassed at the effusiveness of his description. He reached out and cupped her face in his hand. "The Indian sun would be a punishment to this skin. You would have to cover yourself from head to toe to protect it."

"It would be worth it, I think, to experience all that color."

"I do have a bit of Indian color I can show you right now."

He rolled over and out of bed, and walked to one of the crates. He was gloriously naked, and Beatrice feasted on the sight of him — the movement of sleek muscle along his back and shoulders as he rearranged the crates to reach one at the bottom, the taut flexing of his buttocks and thighs as he lifted the crate and placed it atop another, the swell of muscle in his arms as he pried open the lid and tossed it aside. The pure animal beauty of his firm, young body set her heart racing.

What lucky star had she been born under, to have such a man want her?

He reached inside the crate, pulled out a length of bright red silk, and tossed it to her. Then a bolt of brilliant blue muslin worked with gold thread. Then deep purple with a green and gold paisley border. And gold silk. Orange muslin. Turquoise silk. And more and more. Gabriel flung them all on the bed until she was covered in a rainbow of fabric.

Laughing, she dug her way out and stood beside the bed, gazing down at the array of vibrant, luxurious textiles. "Oh, Gabriel, how beautiful. All of them. Such colors! What are you going to do with all these wonderful fabrics?"

"Wrap you up in them." Gabriel came up behind her and wrapped a length of bright emerald green silk around her body. It slithered sensuously against her bare skin. "These are just the sort of colors that suit you, Artemis."

"Not all of them. That lovely deep rose-colored muslin clashes rather badly with my hair. But the rest ... how lovely. What a splendid afternoon you have given me, Lord Thayne."

He spun her around in the green silk until she was facing him, gathered her in his arms, and kissed her passionately. When he lifted his head several minutes later, he said, "I am glad to have pleased you, my huntress. You have certainly pleased me."

She reached up and stroked his jaw. "It has been a lovely day, Gabriel. Though I admit I was feeling very sad at first, when you gave me the gold chain."

"Sad? Why?"

"I thought it was a token to mark the end of things. I thought the affair was over. I am very pleased that it is not. Yet."

He used the silk to tug her closer and cocoon them both. "Never. I adore you, Beatrice."

Her heart skipped a little at his words. "Oh, don't say that, Gabriel. It cannot last forever. We both know it. I have told you that it will be over for me when you become betrothed."

"I am not betrothed."

"Not yet. But soon. And we will have to end it. I will regret it, though, Gabriel, very much. I will miss days like this. I have never known such passion. I will miss it when we part, but I will always remember that it was you who showed it to me, showed me how to open myself to it."

She felt strangely bashful, saying such private things to him, and looked away.

"You did not need showing. You had it in you always." He took her chin and gently turned her face to look at him. "I never knew a more passionate woman, Beatrice. You just needed someone to share it with."

"I am glad to have shared it with you, Gabriel. I shall never forget you."

"And I shall never let you," he said, and kissed her. Desire flared between them once again, and they fell back onto the bed, enveloped in a tangle of vibrant Indian silks.

"He said it was called the Milch Cow. Can you imagine? But, oh, my dears, it was wonderful." Beatrice smiled at her friends, gathered around a tea table in Grace's drawing room for another meeting of the Benevolent Widows Fund trustees. As usual, the conversation strayed to more personal subjects. In fact, they were not really meetings at all anymore. They did eventually discuss Fund business, or develop the guest list for the next ball, or write out the invitations. But the gatherings had long ceased to be merely for business. Ever since they had dubbed themselves the Merry Widows.

"Goodness," Penelope said, her eyes wide with interest, "I feel as though I should be taking notes. Eustace is an excellent lover, but not nearly as adventurous as your young man, Beatrice. Of course, he has that special thing he does with his thumb."

"Thayne knows that one, too," Beatrice said. "When he did it to me, I almost shouted out, 'Oh! That is Penelope's thumb trick!' But I fear it would have broken the mood."

Penelope giggled. "No doubt. But I am pleased you are enjoying yourself. Did I not tell you how beneficial a lover could be to your health? Look at her face, ladies. She is positively aglow."

"I do feel rather fit, from all that stimulating exercise," Beatrice said. She used a pair of silver tongs to pick up a lump of sugar and drop it into her teacup. Just for good measure, she added a second lump. "And I cannot seem to stop smiling," she said, and grinned to prove it. "It is like being on top of the world."