Dusky Duke and the Gypsy Pirate Princess (15 page)

Greyson tuned her voice out, and focused instead on his beautiful bride. Her hair had been pulled up into a cascade of ringlets secured with probably a hundred hairpins. And although her lovely face was free of powder and paints, she was again drowning in perfume. The light cherry pink gown emphasized the dark rings under her eyes and she was back to picking at her food.

He came back to the conversation to see Cousin Bridgette looking at him expectantly. She repeated herself, “I hope your grandmother is feeling better?”

Greyson nodded solemnly, “You will have to forgive my grandmother’s absence. She is not as healthy as she once was, she has these spells. The last spell lasted almost two months.” He shrugged, “I am sure she will be her chirper self; come morning.” He tone indicated he didn’t believe his words to be true. Greyson noted that Honesty seemed truly concerned while Cousin Dragon lady looked annoyed. “We are just glad that you could be here to continue to chaperone Honesty.” Greyson smiled to himself at Honesty’s grimace. “Thank you for sacrificing your time to be presence with us.” Greyson continued, “I cannot imagine what you must be going through so far from your friends. I mean the most entertaining thing that is planned to happen in the next several months here is that Reverend Thomspon and his family are expected to come to dinner next week.”

Honesty’s eye lightened at the mention of her friend’s family. “Will Jane come with him?”

“I believe so,” Greyson nodded.

Cousin Bridgette stared down at her plate despondently.

After dinner, Greyson suggested that they move to the music room, where he learned that although out of practice, Honesty was quite good on the pianoforte.

Later that night when he slipped through the wall, he found Honesty waiting. His lantern briefly illuminated her sitting in the bed in her white nightgown. Her hair twisted in a braid down her back. He blew the light out and pulled off his boots. Greyson caught her hand as it nervously twitched against his chest with he pulled her into his embrace. He placed it against the steady beat of his heart and relaxed.

“I thought you said you had a plan for her to leave. Grey, you can’t mean for me to spend every day alone with that lady,” Honesty’s voice begged for mercy.

“No, I would not do that to you, Darling.” He felt her sigh of relief.

“Your grandmother?”

“Is fine.”

“Her health?”

“There is not a thing wrong with her health. I have confined her to her rooms until Cousin Bridgette decides to leave.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You will by tomorrow night.” Greyson smiled into her hair. “Honesty, I do not like so much perfume on you.” He changed the subject.

“It is expected, Cousin Bridgette and even your sister Claire states it is so.” Honesty’s voice sounded defensive.

“I don’t care. I would rather you smelled of clean soap and vanilla than this clotting dead flower smell.” His voice was gruff and commanding. She stiffened. His voice softened, “You cannot tell me, you like it, either.” She relaxed again after a minute.

“No.”

“Then we agree.” His hand rubbed small circles on her back. He felt her tense slightly, and forced his hand to still.

“Relax and go to sleep before I think of something else for us to do with the night.” Greyson chuckled in the darkness, before forcing himself to relax completely, and cause his breathing to even out. He concentrated on keeping his breaths slow and steady and his hands still. Shortly, he was rewarded by Honesty’s deep even breathing as she succumb to the exhaustion of the last week.

Greyson opened his eyes to the light of the sun peeking through the window ledge. He grimaced, he had overslept this morning. If he didn’t move quickly, servants would be all over the house. Honesty was resting against his side, her head on his shoulder. Her leg nestled between his.  The light cover had been kicked to the foot of the bed and her nightgown was stretched tight across her bottom. The tail of the gown rode high on her thigh. Greyson found his hand covered the sweet curve of her derriere. He groaned. They were married, why on earth did anyone expect him to drag himself out of her bed every morning. This whole thing was insane. Honesty wiggled closer in her sleep.

Greyson untangled himself and pulled on his boots. Honesty remained asleep as he snuck out of the room and skillfully avoided several servants on his way back to his rooms.

♣♣♣

After lunch, Greyson invited Honesty to accompany him to the library. He knew from Cousin Bridgette daily pattern that his darling had only, at this point, endured an hour of the lady’s incessant talking. As the three of them made their way to the library, Greyson reminded Honesty that they could spend the afternoon together in the library that she loved, but she must remember that she could not talk. It disturbed his concentration and he had work that must get done. Honesty had nodded; her look had been puzzled. He had emphasized the no talking several times as if she were a child. Once in the library, Honesty chose one of the many books she had been dying to read and settled down on a comfortable reading couch. Cousin Bridgette settled on the settee with her embroidery. It was shortly apparent to Honesty what Greyson’s intent had been. Every time Cousin Bridgette fidgeted, or sighed loudly, Greyson gave her his famous glare. Honesty smiled behind her book, as Greyson continued to work through his pile of correspondence, and Honesty became caught up in the history of the new world, and Cousin Bridgette simmered to a low explosion from boredom.

Honesty wondered when the last time Cousin Bridgette had been forced to sit in silence. Probably never, she decided as Cousin Bridgette jumped to her feet after two hours, and quickly explained that she had to retrieve something from her room and swept out before either of the other two occupants could respond.

As the door shut behind her, Greyson smiled like the cat that ate the canary, and strolled across the room. Laughing, he pulled Honesty into his arms in a waltz. They circled around the center of the floor. Honesty giggled against his chest and Greyson smiled. That was the first happy sound he had heard from her since before their wedding.

“What if she comes back?”

“Do not worry, I have a plan.”

They whirled around the room to imaginary music. Honesty’s breath became raspy. Greyson pulled her into his lap on the reading divan. “Why do you insist on wearing your laces so tight?”

Honesty blushed, “If they are loose, the layers slide around.”

“When this mess is over, I will refuse to allow you to wear a corset unless we have company.”

There was a cough in the hall, “Lady Constair,” the footman exclaimed loudly. One moment, Honesty had been sitting on Greyson’s lap about to argue with him, and the next she had been set aside and Greyson was back at the desk calmly writing a letter when the servant opened the door to allow Cousin Bridgette to enter the room.

The dragon lady surveyed the room; the other two occupants had not moved an inch since she had left. The duke continued to respond to his mail and the young girl sat blinking on the reading divan before picking up the book and again focusing her attention on it. She was probably suffering from eyestrain. Reading was so bad for the eyes. Cousin Bridgette settled herself to endure the afternoon, as neither of the young people seemed inclined to change activities.

Tea was served in the library at four o’clock, and the two had to sit through Cousin Bridgette’s frantic babbling. It almost seemed that the words had been dammed up, and could not help but bubble forth.

After tea, Greyson suggested a walk to the cliffs to strengthen their constitutions before they dressed for dinner. A nice brisk walk would do them a world of good, he had said. Cousin Bridgette vetoed the idea because of her bad knees. Greyson was insistence and a compromise that Honesty’s new maid should accompany them was reached.

Honesty’s hat and maid were fetched and the three set off. Greyson smiled as the maid, Trudy, settled herself on a stone bench at the edge of the formal garden out of the sight of the house and prepared to wait for their return. Trudy had been handpicked by his grandmother so he knew her loyalties were solid. Greyson pulled Honesty down the path and into the orchard, where the canopy of the trees would block them from being seen by anyone in the house. His heart sang as, for the second time that day, Honesty’s laughter warmed his soul.

They returned two hours later, the young maid following. Their faces flush from the heat of the summer day, their breath smelling of ripe plums.

Greyson was glad to see Honesty eating at dinner. Her appetite seemed to have returned. The dark circles under her eyes had lessened. She wore a deep green dress trimmed in white lace. The emerald locket swung from its chain around her neck. She seemed more at ease with Cousin Bridgette talking, and gave the punctual nod in the appropriate places.

Immediately after dinner, Honesty excused herself, pleading tiredness from the long walk and retired for the night. Within an hour, Greyson claimed business and retreated to his study.

Shortly thereafter, he appeared in Honesty’s room with a satchel and a hand lantern. Honesty was sitting at her dressing table with Trudy brushing out her hair. Her white nightgown billowed around her. Honesty was not surprised at his appearance through the wall, but Trudy shrieked in surprise. Greyson blew out the lamp as he dismissed the maid for the night. She looked at Honesty for confirmation and then scurried away. Greyson moved behind Honesty and picked up the brush that Trudy had abandoned.

“You know, I am not sure she knows we are wed,” remarked Honesty as he pulled the brush in a slow stroke through her hair.

Greyson smiled at her reflection in the mirror, “You have my permission to tell her if it would make you feel more comfortable.” He wrapped his hand around her hair and let it slip through his fingers. Using the brush he pulled another slow stroke through the hair. After several minutes, Honesty squirmed uncomfortably and reached up to braid the length, but Greyson stopped her. “Leave it down,” his voice said with a gravelly quality. Greyson blew out the lamp and pulled her by the hand to the bed. Once they were settled, he fought hard to contain his desire for his hands to touch. He wanted to touch her everywhere, not just her glorious hair. Honesty shifted and pulled the mass of that beautiful hair up and away from his shoulder before she settled back into place. Greyson reached out a hand against her back and threaded his fingers through the locks. He was surprised to realize that the unbound hair reached almost to the curve of her hip. He reached up and pulled his fingers through the length again this time allowing his fingertips to caress the length of her back as his fingers slid through the hair. He heard her breath catch and quicken, as he repeated the action. After repeating this action several more times, he found his breath as fast as hers. He forced his hand to stop moving. His fingers clenched softly in her hair. “Ahh, Darling, you tempt a saint.” He felt her tilt her head in his direction as if trying to see his face in the darkness. “Go to sleep, Honesty. Give me some peace.”

Greyson forced his muscles to relax and his breathing to slow. He forced his hands not to wander, and after a long time, he felt her relax into sleep. Greyson lay staring at the darkened canopy and knew that he could not continue to share her bed and not give in to the desire to make love to her. She was too much temptation. He couldn’t continue this way. For now, Honesty needed to learn to sleep alone. He listened to her breathing in the darkness, and realized that leaving her bed was going to be the second hardest thing he had ever done. The first was lying beside her warm sleep softened form, and keeping his hands and everything else to himself.

♣♣♣

The next morning, Greyson woke at sunrise. His bleary eyes blinked at the floral pink pattern of the drapes. He didn’t have to think to know where he was. Honesty’s bottom was again spooned against his groin, and her hair was pressed against his mouth and nose. The length of her hair had been draped over his arm and above the top of the pillows. His hand lie nestled low against her abdomen. Greyson groaned. The situation wasn’t any better this morning, if anything it was worse. He pulled out of her trusting embrace and quickly pulled the clean set of clothes from his bag. He stripped and pulled the new clothes on. As he shrugged to right the shirt on his shoulders, he turned to find Honesty watching him from the bed. He couldn’t read her expression. He fought the urge to just climb back into the bed with her as he stuffed the sleep crumbled clothes into the satchel and pulled on his boots.

“Honesty, I know you don’t sleep well by yourself, but I just can’t do this again.” His tone was more disapproving than he intended.

Hurt flashed in her eyes before she ducked her head.

“Look I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that the way it came out.” Greyson knew it he didn’t get out of there that second; he wasn’t going to be able to leave. He took the unlit lantern and dashed through the hidden panel

♣♣♣

The day continued much as the day before. After lunch, they retired to the library, but Cousin Bridgette, much to Greyson’s disgust, made it the whole three hours without excusing herself once.

When Greyson suggested the walk, Honesty declined the invitation. Puzzled he left her to endure Cousin Bridgette discourse for the rest of the afternoon.

At dinner, his grandmother attended looking fragile and pale, and proceeded to tell Cousin Bridgette of all the gossip that was happening in London without her.

That night Greyson kept his word and did not appear in Honesty’s room again.

This pattern continued for the next six days. Past the time that Greyson had predicted Cousin Bridgette’s departure. Tensions were running high between the four occupants of the house. Greyson could see that Honesty was not sleeping again, and not eating.

That night at dinner, Greyson’s grandmother announced the coming arrival of Teresa and her family in the next day or two.

At lunch the next day, Cousin Bridgette explained that she had received the most distressing news that required for her to travel to London posthaste. Greyson agreed that she should not delay her departure a moment longer. And it was decided that she should leave first thing in the morning.

After tea in the library, Greyson insisted that Honesty accompany him on a walk to the cliffs. At the stone bench when Trudy stopped and sat down, Honesty told her to accompany them. Greyson glared at her and countered this order. Trudy sat on the bench tore between the two nobles. Honesty turned and stomped away toward the orchard. Greyson followed her with easy strides through the orchard and on toward the cliffs.

“What are you upset about, Darling?” Greyson questioned as she finally walked herself out. He could tell from her breathing that the corset was too tight again.

She whirled on him, her eyes flashing anger, “Don’t call me that.”

This furious, gypsy, pirate princess Greyson recognized. He realized it had been weeks since he had seen her last.

“You. . .”she started, but stumbled, “You. . ,” she snapped her mouth shut and spun so that her back was to him. He saw her dash away a tear with the back of her hand.

He moved up close behind her, “Tell me what I have done so I can make it better.”

He saw her struggle to control her emotions. “You did not do anything wrong. I am just upset … I shall get over it… I knew you did not want to marry me. . .”

Greyson was stunned at her words and could not contain the bark of laughter. Honesty stiffened.

“Of course, I wanted to marry you. Whatever gave you the idea I didn’t? Did I not make my intentions plain enough?”

Honesty nodded, “But that was before you heard what mama said.”

“Honesty, what do you mean?”

“I mean, you asked my papa, and then you heard what mama said, and then you, as a gentleman of your word, didn’t have a way to retract it. I mean it is obvious from your actions.”

He turned her to face him. “Honesty, what of my actions has convinced you that I did not want to marry you?”

She looked up at his face. “Why would you want to marry me after what you heard, and you disapprove of my actions every time we are in public, I don’t blame you. I told you I was no good at this. You don’t want me, you can’t even stand to sleep in the same bed as me anymore, and you never even collected on the wager.” She almost shouted the last before running out of steam and dropping her head forward. Greyson’s mind scrambled to understand what she was saying. He latched on to the last comment first.

“Collected on what wager?”

“The locket game,” she said uncomfortably.

“But it was a tie,” Greyson was puzzled.

“You bet that the girls won’t win, and truly, a tie. .”

Greyson chuckled; leave it to Honesty to see the loophole, “isn’t a win.” They finished together.

“Honesty, listen to me carefully. I have wanted to marry you from the first time we danced. I knew I was moving too fast, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself. I coerced your mother into agreeing to come with hopes that I would offer for Pretty. I had sent an offer to your father the day before your family arrived here. I took unfair advantage of your not having a chaperone. I was the one on the beach who forgot myself and caused the scene that set your mother off.”