Lessons of Desire (15 page)

He never lost control, never succumbed. Even when his thrusts quickened and increased in power, even when she was screaming at the moment of ecstasy, she sensed how he controlled the power to the end.

There was unity this time. She was not alone in the oblivion. If anything his presence grew more prevailing. The glorious relief split through her the way lightning claims a tree, but he remained tangible through it all.

In the aftermath, while her soul sought and collected the remnants of her self-possession, while she struggled to recompose a woman she recognized, misgivings slid into her thoughts. She felt him in her arms, his body covering hers. He was spent and contented and quiet, but starkly, awkwardly real.

She had never felt at a disadvantage in these things before. Beneath her sated bliss, she lazily examined this new situation. She tried to decide what it meant and how it had happened.

Surely this mysterious sense of selflessness would disappear when he left. It was only the night and the dark and the pleasure that caused it.

He rose up on his forearms, lifting his weight off her. His gaze invaded deeply, and so hotly and intensely that she wondered if he was trying to burn a brand on her mind. Then he rolled off her and stretched on his side along her body. He soon fell asleep with one arm across her.

He intended to stay here all night. She never permitted that with her friends, but she could hardly wake him and demand that he go back down to the blanket on the stones in the chamber below. Still
...

She stared at the dim lights playing across the stones above her. His gaze had been warm and touching during that last long look, but it had also demanded she acknowledge the power of their joining. It had contained the deep intimacy still binding them, and refused to permit her to disentangle from its hold.

But there had been something else, something she had never seen in a man's eyes before, at least not when a man regarded her.

She had just gazed into the eyes of a conqueror.

She wondered what it was that he mistakenly thought he had won.

The door to his mind remained ajar. He heard her sigh and mumble in her sleep. Dawn was breaking and she would wake soon enough. For now he enjoyed the peace and her company and the cool air on his body while his mind finished sorting through other things.

A sound had woken him to the vaguest indications of the new day. Now he peered through the silver light while a form took shape. Another basket was in the room, a new one. It rested right at the top of the stairs. One of The old women had brought more provisions.

Phaedra slowly woke like a purring kitten. She curled then stretched her naked elegance, and turned away so he could admire the lovely line that dipped down her side and up her hip.

She appeared very son right now and much younger than her years. Stripped of her dark habit, free of the armor with which she faced the world, she struck him as fragile. Last night had revealed this other side of her spirit, in ways unspoken and undefined. Her passion had been both worldly and ignorant, both confident and frightened. He had sensed the weakness and softness that she dared not allow the world to see. She lived a symbolic life that did not permit such contradictions.

He wanted her again, because she was so beautiful here in the morning and because the naked Phaedra, both unclothed and tin armored, fascinated him. He guessed he would continue wanting her for a long time. He calculated time and place, night and day, while memories of their embraces tempted him.

She came alert with a start, as if she heard his thoughts. She fell onto her back. Through barely raised lids she assessed where she was and who was with her. The vaguest blush tinted her neck down to her pretty breasts. Their tips tightened, and not because of the cool ocean breeze.

Her embarrassment made her appear girlish and unsure. He wondered what thoughts caused the little frown she directed at her body. She was not so bold now, when darkness did not set events in another world.

He pulled on some garments so she would not have to find her own way out of the place her choice had put her. He handed her the black pile of her dress. She sat up and drew it over her head.

He sat down beside her on the pallet He wondered if she would speak of last night, and what he should say when he did. This was not a woman who expected either gratitude or apologies. She certainly would not be looking for an offer of either payment or support. She expected absolutely nothing from hint and would interpret any such overture badly.

"There is Alexia," he said. "Yesterday you spoke of being alone, but Alexia is a loyal friend." Her words had played in his head this morning as he lay with her. He wondered about her friendships as a girl, and if she had even had any. He guessed that not many mothers would allow their daughters to be friends with the daughter of Artemis Blair.

She stretched to peck a kiss on his cheek. At some point today he assumed the latent intimacy would cease and she would treat the night as history. Now, however, she let him know with the gesture that she thought his concern charming at least.

He took the opportunity to move his arm around her. Sitting like tins on the straw bed, his back against the wall, a lovely woman's head on his shoulder and the sounds and scents of the sea blowing in the windows, would not be a bad way to spend the day.

"She made your brother promise to permit our friendship," she said. "When Alexia negotiated that marriage, she made him promise. I just assumed
...
I
declined her wedding invitation and wrote to say it would only cause strife with her new husband. She wrote back and told me how it was." She inhaled deeply. Her voice grew small. "I wept when I read her letter. It was the most noble thing any friend has ever done for me. That she thought about me at all at such a moment— I still find it hard to believe your brother agreed to it. I am not a woman most men want their wives to know. A courtesan would be more welcome in May fair drawing rooms."

Elliot guessed that his brother's generosity had been part of a larger scheme. Phaedra Blair was an easy concession for Hayden to make in the negotiations to get the woman he wanted.

It would not do to put it quite that way. "Hayden has never been society's slave. He wants Alexia to be happy. He knows that her friendship with you holds no danger to her."

"If he believes that, love has made him stupid. I do not resent the fathers and husbands who will not allow me to be received, Elliot. If I were them and believed as they do, I would make the same rules."

He looked down at her crown. Her hair appeared more gold than red now in the crystalline morning light. She did not want his pity for her solitary childhood. She did not expect the world to change to accommodate who she was. She merely wanted to be left alone to live in her heresies as she chose.

Understanding that added a new warmth to the contentment he experienced right now. Unfortunately leaving her alone would be nigh impossible.

"Lord Elliot."

Carmelita s call did not come up the stone stairs. It bellowed up the exterior of the tower. At least one of them had intruded earlier and now they took efforts not to do so again.

He got up and looked out the window. The five old women milled around Carmelita, talking closely and still keeping guard.

"Lord Elliot, here comes Signore Greenwood." She gestured down the promontory, past the men waking to the new day at its end.

Greenwood
was passing the docks, now filled with fishing boats. Noise in the town reminded Elliot why none had been put out to sea. Today was the feast of San Giovanni.

The men let Greenwood pass. He said something to them as he walked by. He noticed Elliot at the window and waved greetings. His smile and jaunty gait indicated that he had good news.

He bowed deeply to Carmelita and the old women, then peered up. "I am to be profusely thanked by you and Miss Blair, Rothwell. I have been so diplomatic, so brilliant, that I deserve a living in the foreign service."

"You convinced that fool to end tins?" Carmelita asked.

"I forged a compromise. Enough of one that the services of you ladies will not be required in the future."

Carmelita explained things to the old women. She met some resistance there. A little argument ensued but Carmelita won the day. All of the women started walking back to the town.

"I will come up and explain." Matthias said. His head dipped below the portal's header.

Elliot turned back to Phaedra. She appeared much herself, composed and proud and unusual. Black gauze covered the body he had possessed just hours ago. She bent down and smoothed the blanket over the straw, eliminating the most obvious evidence of the night's events.

"I should have yielded to temptation and woken you earlier," he said. "Such a night should not end this abruptly."

Her small smile appeared nervous. "Abruptly or slowly, they always end anyway."

There was a lot he wanted to say in response to that, but Greenwood's boots were nearing the chamber.

Matthias's white hair and smiling face emerged and rose. He appeared very pleased with himself.

"I have brought you the key to your prison. Miss Blair. Unfortunately, for this to work as planned, you must leave Positano immediately."

I plied Tarpetta with wine for the better part of the
night," Matthias said. "I convinced him that he did not want to risk the king s displeasure by creating an international spectacle involving the brother of an English marquess."

"One would hope that a rational argument would carry more weight than a threat" Phaedra said. It rankled her that Elliot would once more procure her freedom.

She should be grateful. After last night she should find it romantic to be saved by this man. That reaction blossomed in her, but her mind also calculated how much she would once more be in his debt. If this kept happening he might call the note in ways she did not want.

"We will take whatever argument succeeded," Elliot said.

His tone all but said.
Silence, woman. Leave it to men to settle this.

Matthias offered an appeasing smile. "Miss Blair, Tarpetta is a man much enamored of his own pride and sense of authority. The best argument turned out to be one that suggested his intended course of action would damage both."

"If it is the one that worked, so be it. I would have preferred some vindication but I will settle for safety and freedom."

"When you say she must leave at once, how quickly does that mean?" Elliot asked.

"We will return to the villa, retrieve your baggage, and send you off in a boat immediately." Matthias gestured to the baskets and blanket. "Leave this. I will send servants for it later."

Phaedra accepted their escort out of the tower. She gave the chamber a final look before she went down the stairs. It still appeared humble and domestic, but not nearly as charming as it had last night in the dusk and dark. Now it was what it was, a crude abode carved out of danger and fear, and an attempt to make a home so she would not feel so helpless.

She suspected the whole night had only been a feminine reaction to danger. She had never understood the appeal of the knight in shining armor before, but then she had never been the damsel in distress either.

Her mind sorted it out rationally. The bright light of day implied the romance of the night had been a dream to be remembered fondly, but nothing more. And yet, as she began walking down the stairs, Elliot took her hand in a gesture of both courtesy and command, to guide her and lead her forth from their tower of love.

Her heart twisted at the gentle way he escorted her. Her pulse raced at his touch. When they passed a thin slit in the stairwell wall the light lined his fine face so he looked much as he had last night. For a moment she was dazed, awed by the manner in which he could alter the air and space and invade her so thoroughly.

Midsummer s day greeted them outside, hot and sultry. The morning sea breeze had waned and the sun carved the town into bright lights and deep shadows. The promontory was empty of people. So were the docks.

"The feast is under way." Matthias said. "They are all in the church piazza."

"Let us bypass it." Elliot said. The small frown of concern marred his brow again. She sensed that he remained alert for trouble, like a cat carefully making its way through unknown territory.

"By all means, but you will miss the preparations for the procession. It is very colorful." Matthias guided them to a lane that would flank the piazza. "Your vigilance is admirable. Rothwell, but Miss Blair is quite safe now. Tarpetta understands it is in his interest to stand down."

There were no donkey boys to be seen so they began the long climb to the villa through empty lanes. Sounds from the piazza floated between silent houses. As they crossed a street that headed south, she saw a flash of black out of the corner of her eye. Not everyone in the town was at the church.

Climbing the hill was a strain. Phaedra's legs grew sore, then felt watery. The sun beat down relentlessly and sweat began to dampen the gauze of her dress. Elliot did not appear the least discomforted, but Matthias was not such a young man. His breathing became labored.

"I must slow, Mr. Greenwood. Would you be good enough to slay with me. Lord Elliot can forge ahead and begin preparations"

"Certainly, Miss Blair. You appear a little paler. Would you like to stop and test? While haste is in order, we do not nave a pistol al our backs."

"The sun is dazzling me more titan I might like, but I am sure that if I walk more slowly I will be—."

"What in—" Elliot's exasperated tone interrupted her. She released Matthias from her attention and he from hers. They both looked ahead to see what had arrested Elliot.

Five figures stood in the lane. Dressed in widow's black, veiled like Arabs or nuns. Carmelita's old women blocked their way.

"Just smile and walk on," Matthias said, beaming his most benevolent expression on them.

It might have worked if these women remained the only barrier. Unfortunately, others joined them. Phaedra recognized some of the women she had met at the well and others who had stood against the men. All of them peered down the lane most critically.

The object of their disapproval was none other than
i'uomo magnifico
,
Lord Elliot Rothwell.

Carmelita pushed through the gathering throng. Her arms flew while she castigated the old women. Their response was as crisp and sharp as the daggers their eyes kept shooting at Elliot.

Matthias turned to find another path. "Oh, my" he muttered.

Phaedra glanced back. More women had bled onto the lane behind them.

Carmelita walked the twenty paces separating them from the old women. She grimaced with apology and resignation. 'There is a little problem."

"Tarpetta and Greenwood have an understanding," Elliot said. "Explain that to them. These women who risked themselves to protect Miss Blair are now interfering with her timely escape."

Carmelita nodded in solemn agreement. "Except they still seek to protect her. They are now concerned for her honor." She leveled a knowing gaze at him. "They think you
...
they think
...
actually, they
know
,
they don't think."

Phaedra felt her color rising. Elliot's face remained passive but it flushed a little too.

"They cannot
know
anything," Phaedra said.

"Phaedra Blair, your isolation in that tower with a man would alone compromise you in their eyes. However, Maria there brought up some water and bread at dawn and ..." Carmelita spread her hands in a gesture that said all had been seen. "I told her that she should forget what she saw. The women of the town, however—each one sees you as a sister now. They have fought for you and will not let this seducer have his way without putting things right."

"Seducer?
See here, I am not—"

Matthias's dramatic sigh interrupted. "Rothwell, dear boy, you have been disastrously indiscreet."

Phaedra stepped forward. "I do not need other women fighting this particular battle, Carmelita. I am a grown woman and I believe that—Good heavens, now what is the priest doing here?"

The hapless priest from yesterday's battle was being pushed toward them through the crowd.

"I believe this is what is called an untoward development," Elliot said dryly.

"Elliot,
do something
"
Phaedra hissed the words in a tone approaching panic. The whole town appeared to surround them now. The bodies formed a slow-moving river aiming through the lanes. Elliot. Phaedra, Matthias, and the poor priest formed the flotsam from a wreck being borne along by the current.

"What do you recommend, Phaedra? As a gentleman I cannot refuse to marry a woman whom I have compromised"

"Oh, for heaven's sake. This is coercion, and refusing would not make you a scoundrel. Nor have you compromised me. You cannot think to actually go through with this?"

He did not know what he thought yet. He only knew that standing his ground here and now might be a dangerous mistake. The town was elated by the impending nuptials. Even Tarpetta's most staunch supporters grinned with delight. The general sentiment, from what Elliot could tell, was that the town thought this would be the finest Feast of San Giovanni in memory.

With each step Phaedra s eyes got wider. "Then I will refuse."

Matthias stuck his head close to hers. "Miss Blair, I have just spent hours convincing Signore Tarpetta that you are not, um, unvirtuous. If you refuse to marry a man with whom you were seen on, um, intimate terms, all my efforts might be for naught."

"I will not marry, least of all at the point of a sword."

Elliot had no desire to marry at the point of a sword either, but he did not find the looming church as alarming as Phaedra did. Although he had never found himself moved to propose to a woman, he was not opposed to marriage on principle like she was. Of course, his family history had shown that a bad union could create a life of hell, but that did not bear on this situation. Yet.

"Will this even be legal?" she demanded of Matthias. "We are not Catholic. This is not England. There will be no bans, no license. Are such unions even recognized at home? After all, a Catholic ceremony alone is not legitimate at home and—"

"I really do not know for certain. I am sure it can all be sorted out later."

"Sorted out later?
What if the sorting is not to my liking? Talk to them. Tell them that—" Her response was interrupted by a shift in the crowd.

The lane suddenly spilled into the piazza. The bodies rearranged and loosened their hold, but still formed a thick wall. A new figure joined their little nucleus. Signore Tarpetta limped into place beside Elliot.

"This is a good ending," he said with pompous approval. "If
she
is una sposa,
there will be a man's law for her. You can perhaps authority her better now"

Elliot bit back the curse that leapt to mind. Tarpetta's presence was no accident. No doubt the man had heard the old women's gossip and encouraged the town into playing out this farce.