Lynette Vinet - Emerald Trilogy 02 (19 page)

~ ~ ~

The coach slowly rolled homeward, but inside Allison and Paul didn’t speak. He sat across from her, his arms folded across his chest, his gaze on her, glittering and dark. Finally when she could stand his silence no longer, she said, “It wasn’t necessary to push Howard aside like you did. I could have handled him.”

“Really?
Then tell me how you, a woman nearly seven months gone with child, with a man twice your size pawing you, would have handled the situation if he decided to lay you down and lift your skirts.”

“Paul!” She didn’t bother to hide her shock. “Howard would never do that. Howard is a gentleman.”

He gave a short laugh.
“Still little, naive Allison.”

“Not so naive any longer.
You’ve taught me a great deal.”

“Have I now? Then I’m grateful you’re such an apt pupil, but I don’t want you to see Howard

Granger again.”

“I’ll see whomever I please! I don’t see that you’ve restricted your visits to Constance. You followed her around tonight like an adoring puppy.”

“Jealous?”

She sunk more deeply into the cushions, suddenly very tired. “Let’s drop the subject of the Grangers.”

“As you wish.”
He surveyed her for a moment then moved over and sat beside her. He lifted her cloak and touched her gown. “Why didn’t you carry the bouquet I sent you this morning? You never did mention my note.”

Her eyes widened. The nerve of him! Did he think she was such a little dolt that she’d be won over by a mass of wild violets when she saw him take off to visit his mistress?

“I saw no reason to mention it since you
were
preoccupied elsewhere,” she answered coldly.

“Ah,” he said and stroked his chin, realizing she had discovered he had been to see Constance. “I don’t love Constance. I love you.”

“Then you only like her for one thing.” Tears stung her eyes.

“I like her for many things. Constance is beautiful, amusing, a good chess player, and she listens to my woes and pretends to understand, though I don’t believe she does. Still, she has been a good friend to me. She thinks she loves me, that
is
her misfortune. But I don’t love her and never will. We’ve never made love and never will; you’re the woman I want to warm my bed.”

She wanted to believe him, longed to say she forgave him for everything. But he had deceived her for so
long,
she didn’t think she could trust him again. How did she know he wasn’t lulling her into a false sense of security to gain her good graces and her bed again just to secure more control of her life and her estate!

She didn’t know how to respond to him, didn’t even know if she wanted to. Instead her gaze drifted from his face to the velvet blackness of the night outside the carriage window. She felt his hand slowly turn her chin, and he looked into her face with a burning intensity. He was so handsome, the most beautiful looking man she had ever seen—and he was hers and he desired her. She didn’t know if he truly loved her. But at that moment it ceased to matter. She caught her breath when his finger lazily traced the outline of her lips.
Leave me alone,
she silently begged, but his mouth meeting hers in a passionate kiss left her weak.

His tongue invaded her mouth, tasting of its sweetness. She pressed against him in the darkness of the coach, and she forgot that he had hurt her, forgot the preposterous bargain she had made for her freedom,
forgot
everything. All she wanted was to feel his hands and lips upon her body again. He moaned into her ear. “I love you, I love you.”

She couldn’t deny him. She shook so much that he had to help her unbutton her cloak. Casting it aside, he threw it onto the coach floor then concentrated on loosening the hooks on the back of her gown until her breasts, so full and ripe, tumbled free of her bodice. He bent low, his tongue swirling over their dusky tips with tantalizing expertise. Her fingers worked at his shirt until his chest was bare to her hands. She wanted him so much that she didn’t care that they were in a carriage with the driver only a few feet away. Her hands found his belt buckle. In the moonlight she saw the desire in his eyes, tasted his tantalizing kisses as he lifted her skirts and pulled down her undergarments. The rocking of the coach when he quickly slid inside her only increased their passion. His ragged breathing echoed in her ears as she arched against him, meeting each thrust with one of her own.

Then the blackness which enfolded them blazed with light and she thought she had died the sweetest of deaths. She thought Paul had stopped breathing, but when he exhaled, she knew he had experienced the same plummeting sensation. Held so tightly against him, she realized she never wanted to leave his side. Her heart sang of pure love.

“It was wonderful, wonderful,” she murmured into his shoulder.

“Do you think the child is all right?”

“Yes, the baby is safe.”

Paul shifted positions and sat up, a contented look on his face. “I love you more than I’ve ever loved any woman.”

She positioned her bodice on her shoulders and rearranged herself. “I’ve never loved anyone but you.”

He smiled tenderly. “I know. That’s why I know you won’t leave me after our baby is born. I never had any intention of letting Daniel leave with you.”

Her ardor evaporated like dew in the morning sun, replaced by bitter rage. Again he had deceived her! No matter that she loved him and acted like a wanton whenever he touched her, she felt he had manipulated her again. He had given her his word that she could leave after the baby’s birth. And now he admitted that he had never intended to honor it. Would he never stop lying to her?

By the time the coach had halted in front of the manor, she had arranged her gown and pulled her cloak about her shoulders. She glared icily at him. “No matter what you think, Paul, you don’t own me
.
You
gave me your word that I could leave this house after our child is born, and I expect you to hold to it.
If I choose not to go, then so much the better.
However, for once in your life, don’t deceive me.” She scampered from the coach and ran into the house before he could move or speak.

He ran after her and caught up with her at the door to her room. He grabbed her arm and looked deeply into her eyes. “I do own you, madam. I own your lips, your eyes,
your
body. Remember that I love you. And I refuse to be turned out of your room tonight!”

Despite her anger, he gently scooped her up into his arms and kicked the door closed behind them. Once again, his hands and mouth worked their magic over her, her harsh protests soon giving way to contented moans.

Later, as she lay beside him and listened to his steady breathing, she knew she’d never love another man. Though he confessed he loved her, she couldn’t trust him. He had married her only to ensnare Fairfax Manor, so how could she believe he truly loved her and not a woman as beautiful as Constance Granger?

The moon illuminated the meadows as Beth, throwing caution to the wind, determinedly went to Howard. Even if circumstances prevented their marriage, she loved him and knew he loved her. To be his mistress would not be degrading, not when they loved each other so ardently, so passionately. She remembered their nights together in the barn, still able to feel his arms around her, his lips on hers. Oh, yes, it would be like that again—this very night! What difference that she was married? Patrick didn’t love her any longer. He barely spoke to her when he chanced upon her, and not once had he visited her in his own cottage. It was clear to her that Annie Donahue now ruled his heart, but she refused to let that disturb her.

When she reached the Granger property, she had no idea what she should do. Perhaps she should ask to see him on the pretext of delivering a message from Miss Allison or Mr. Paul. But his father or sister might be suspicious. So, she sneaked over to the barn, trying to decide how to get her message to him at the big house.

A candle flickered on the window sill of the room and drew her like a moth. It was the very same room where she had lain with Howard on those sweet, stolen nights of bliss. Standing on tiptoe, she pressed her face against the crack between the shutters and peered in. She smothered a groan of anguished surprise to see Howard, the man who claimed to love her, undressing a little parlor maid. He fondled the girl’s breasts and muffled her delighted giggles with his mouth before he
lay
her on the same cot where they had made love. His desire to claim the girl was evident, and Beth could bear no more.

Like a wild, wounded thing, she turned and fled. When she reached her cottage, she bolted the door as if it could lock out Howard’s face and the girl’s delighted giggles. Strangely she felt unable to cry, almost as if she expected this turn of events and accepted it. Clearly God had punished her for her sin—first by losing her child, and now by discovering Howard’s blatant promiscuity. She sat by the table for a long while until she composed herself then walked into the bedroom. In the glow of the moonlight that streamed silver through the window, she was startled to see Patrick asleep in their bed. When had he returned? Did he intend to stay? Her heart beat sped up until she wondered if he could hear it in the quiet room. Her gaze fastened upon his naked, bronzed body that lay atop the sheets. His face was turned towards her, and she realized how truly handsome he was, and how she was envied by many women who felt she was lucky to have him for a husband.

She wondered if he had returned only because he had grown tired of sharing Annie Donahue’s bed, whore that Annie was. But the reason mattered little to her.
Sparks of desire suddenly shot through her.
Beth realized that she wanted him; she needed to feel loved. Knowing that he wouldn’t come to her, she slowly undressed, and when she was naked, she climbed into bed.

Slowly she moved her leg to touch his calf, inching closer to him until her breath ruffled a strand of his hair. Her body grew hot with desire, and wanting him to know she was
there,
she reached out and entwined her hand around his manhood. She slowly stroked it, and almost instantly it sprang to life, seeming to scorch her flesh with its heat.

Her eyes widened in surprise, realizing that Patrick had pretended sleep. She felt his gaze upon her face, and when she looked at him, he kissed her long and lingeringly. “Are you sure this is what you want, sweet Beth?”

“Aye,” she whispered and boldly nibbled his ear. “I’ve come to you, Patrick.”

Pleasure and disbelief flooded his face. Patrick nestled against her, groaning slightly when the roundness of her breasts made contact with his chest. Her arms went around his shoulders, pulling him to her, and her rosy lips beckoned to him, urging him to plunder their softness by parting voluntarily. When his own lips touched hers, her little pink tongue darted from between her teeth and traced the indentations and grooves of his mouth.

He broke away, too filled with desire, and he placed his hands on either side of her head.
“Easy, sweet.
You’re going too fast. We’ve got the whole night.”

Beth breathed deeply. “But I want you.”

His large hands stroked the soft strands of her hair. “I want you, too, Beth, but let me love you in my own way first.” Gently he pushed her into the pillows, kissing her tenderly while stroking and fondling her breasts. A small ragged sigh escaped her when his fingers touched her nipples, and his hands covered the ripe, fullness of each mound. She quivered and watched his dark head descend to suckle each globe, each touch of his tongue driving her mad. A strangled moan escaped her as she writhed beneath him, but he laid a stilling hand upon her hips.
“Easy, sweet Beth.”

She bit her lip and tried to control her rapid breathing, but the sight of Patrick’s nakedness glowing in the moonlight, his hands moving sensuously from her hips to her thighs, was becoming too much for her,
She
ached to feel his hard fullness within her, but his gentle touch momentarily quieted her. Beth lay under the hot, scorching heat of his body, turning her head towards the window to see the sky, sprinkled with glittering stars, and she wished to be among the twinkling diamonds, floating away forever with Patrick by her side.

Her passion had subsided to such a degree that Patrick’s lips on her belly tickled, and she giggled a bit as his tongue flicked into the indentation of her navel. His tongue traced a burning path from her navel to skim the flatness of her abdomen,
then
moved lower. Beth nearly stopped breathing. His hand nestled between her thighs, stroking her moistness while he spoke words of love in Gaelic. Then his dark head descended between her legs, and she felt the point of his tongue continue what his hand had been doing,
She
moaned and pulled his head closer to her until she thought she would die of the ecstasy.

When she whimpered, “No more, Patrick,” he lifted his head and slid up her perspiring body, sealing her lips with a kiss.

“Are you ready?” he asked as he held her in his hot, sweaty arms. She was more than ready, and his male hardness resting against her thigh stroked the fires within her even higher.

She nodded, but just when he would have mounted her, she moved from under him. “Lay down,” she commanded gently. He
obeyed,
a questioning look in his passion-starved eyes. Her gaze wandered over the muscular body of her husband, her hands tracing the contours of his chest, the hard flatness of his abdomen, his long, powerful legs. A smile flashed across her lips because Patrick belonged to her. Every part of him was hers and she could do with him as she wished, could give him as much pleasure as possible. She planted kisses along his body, delighting in his strangled moans when her lips reached his male hardness. Then she knew it was time to end both their torments.

She pressed her lower body against his pulsing hotness, taking him into her with ease. While she rode atop him, Patrick tried to hold himself in check. Her long hair trailed about her face, streaming across her shoulders and spilling onto her breasts and over his hands that were massaging her nipples. Dear God, he loved her! His Beth! His woman! His wife! Yet she was driving him crazy with her voluptuous body atop him, and soon all control dissolved. His hands flew to her hips and held them in place, and he thrust deeply, until her movements matched his own.

“Oh, Patrick.”
His name on her lips made him pull her down, searing her mouth with his, as the first wave of pleasure rolled over them. At that moment one final thrust sent them spiraling into the starry darkness of the sky … together.