Madness (47 page)

Simon’s expression at once changed and he fell to the floor with a shriek. The back of his head cracked against the corner of the bedstead, and blood began to spurt from his nose.

“Oh God, no, no!” Gabrielle ran for the bell pull and yanked on it furiously.

The little maid who appeared squealed in horror at the sight of so much blood.

“The doctor, quick! Or Eswara or Ash! Hurry!”

Gabrielle managed to get an unconscious Simon into the bed with the help of two burly footmen, and Randall and Michael.

She bathed his face and clung onto his hand, weeping all the while.

Blake came a short time later, and put one knee on the bed to examine the unconscious man.

She told the doctor what had happened, and finished tearfully, “It’s the worst seizure I’ve ever seen him have.”

“The strain of helping your sister must have been awfully great for him,” he guessed.

Blake examined him thoroughly, with Gabrielle lingering by his side fretfully wringing her hands. Why had this happened? And just when he had been doing so well?

"I don't dare give him anything for the pain due to his past addiction, so all I can say is cold compresses, camphor, and prayer," Blake said with a sigh.

"Thank you, I'll do exactly as you say."

Gabrielle tended to him for several hours, never leaving Simon's side even though everyone in the house, from the Dowager Lay Hazelmere down to little Adeline, and each one of the servants, offered to take a turn.

"No, it's fine, really," she said, waving away the offer each time. "I thank you, but he'll want me as soon as he wakes up."

As the sun went down he finally stirred and opened his eyes. There was no mistaking the relief on Gabrielle's face, or the worry in her gaze.

“Where am I?” he asked dazedly. “What happened?”

“You had a fit, a bad one.”

He tried to sit up, then grimaced. “God, it feels like I've been kicked by a horse.”

Blake came in from the next room, where he had been looking over Lucinda and the baby. He examined Simon carefully, and a short time later, pronounced him fit enough, with no concussion, and said he would come back in an hour to check on him again.
 

The Avenels, on hand a short distance down the hall in Randall and Isolde's room, were completely relieved, and tiptoed out, leaving the couple alone.

“What day is this?” he asked, looking around, then squinting at her.

“Thursday.”

He digested that for a moment in silence. “Weren’t we supposed to be going to Bath today?”

Gabrielle stared. “No, darling, we went yesterday. How could you forget? The big storm, the castle?”

He shook his head. “I think I remember Bath, but no storm or castle.”

 
She stared at him. “Do you remember anything about Lucinda and the baby?” she asked gently.

He immediately became agitated. “No. Is she all right? She hasn’t miscarried or-”

“No, not at all. She has a fine healthy son.” She stroked his brow until he calmed once more, and tried to hold back the tears.

“Oh, thank the gods.”

She stared at him. Was his memory of the event of the previous evening all really gone, or had something wiped it away?

“Can you tell me what you remember about yesterday?”

He frowned in concentration. “We went to Bath. Bought everything it sight. We came home.”

“What did we do when we got home?”

He laughed. “The usual thing we do when we’re alone together." He ran his hands over her curves with a smile.

"Why, what’s wrong?” he asked when she didn't smile back.

She shook her head. “No, it’s nothing. Really. Everything is fine. Lucinda has a healthy baby boy, Christopher Simon Randall Howell.”

"Wonderful news. The best, And that's very kind of her, the Simon part."

"And she wants you to be godfather, along with Randall, if that's all right."

She watched him closely for any signs of recollection, but felt heartbroken that there was none. What could have happened to have wiped his memory clean of such a remarkable event as the birth of a child he clearly adored and deemed his nephew?

"All right? I would be honored." He smiled happily, and stroked her cheek.

"Good, thank you."

“So, my love, now that that is all settled,
 
do you suppose we can do that usual thing we do when we’re alone together?” he asked, his eyes alight with hope.

She giggled despite herself, and managed a convincing smile. “Not now. You’ve had a nasty blow to the head when you fell and had one of your seizures. But in a couple of days, just you try to stop us.”

"Oh, all right," he sighed. "I am awfully sleepy now." His deft fingers tweaked open the bodice of her gown, and he fell asleep with his face buried in her fragrant cleavage.

Gabrielle held him close. His loss of memory was something that she could bear. But the loss of him from her life was too dreadful to even contemplate, she loved him so. She wrapped her arms around him, and prayed with all her heart that his next terrible seizure wouldn't take him from her forever.

After Simon’s severe fit, he was subdued and tired for a couple of days, but took great delight in the new baby.

Gabrielle made sure he didn't overdo things, and had to admit there were some distinct advantages to having him in bed all the time.

He was certainly becoming an increasingly bold and inventive lover. Gabrielle couldn’t seem to get enough of him as they did what they had agreed, and began to try for a baby of their own.

He was always coming up with the most thrilling surprises for her. One night about a week after the baby had been born, she came into the room to find all their pillows mounded up at the foot of the bed.

He came around behind her and began to undress her slowly, tenderly, with a kiss for each part of her body as it was laid bare to his gaze.

When they were finally both naked, he requested softly, “Lie on the edge of the bed with your hips on these bolsters.”

Gabrielle perched as he suggested, so that her shoulders lay on the mattress and her legs spread wide, suspended over the floor.

“Now just relax and trust me.”

“I do, you know I do.”

He stood between her knees, staring at her most secret flesh as if memorising every detail. He began trailing his fingertips over her mound of soft curls in fascination until at last her blushes subsided and she began to actually enjoy his heated regard. He certainly knew how to make her feel like the centre of his whole universe.

Now Gabrielle closed her eyes and let her feminine core become the centre of her consciousness. For he began to massage her now with purposeful intent, teasing the delicate peaks and valleys from every angle and with every finger.

Knowing he was eager to learn all about her pleasure, she let out a soft pant or sigh whenever the bliss grew particularly acute.

Then he would concentrate there for a moment, building upon the joy until she would moan louder.

Even more devastating though was when Simon would deliberately move his finger a maddening millimetre away and evade all of her attempts to squirm and wriggle back to where he had been.

Finally he would touch the magical spot, and her senses would soar even higher than if he had just teased her there in the first place.

He was a true master of eroticism, bringing her so close, then letting her waft down, so that the next plateau she built up to was even higher and more compelling.

She throbbed with desire, yet was powerless to control the sensual cascade which tumbled through her, sweeping all reason and sense with it. Gabrielle could only wring the sheets and beg for release.

“It’s all right, darling. It’s only going to get better,” he reassured her. “There’s no need to be hasty or greedy. We have a lifetime.”

He reached for one of her hands and interlaced his fingers with it for a brief moment, then slid them apart in a beguilingly sinuous manner which nearly set her soaring once more.

He now stroked those same fingers lightly over her belly using just the tips.

“Any part of your body can bring you the ultimate pleasure, with patience and understanding. But now I want to see you at your most extreme. Your upper limit of need, of climax. Then I want to take you even higher.”

She could feel her taut body loosen at his words as she at last completely opened to him, flowing like a river, holding nothing back. There was no need for shame or reserve.

He loved her, would do anything to make her happy. She was no longer a young girl; he had truly made her all woman, sensual, voluptuous, just as he had always said she was in all of his sweet, sexy whisperings whenever they made love.
 

In return her tenderness and trust nurtured, healed him, and gave him the most exquisite pleasure.

Having thoroughly massaged her lower abbomen and upper thighs, he now began to work the uniquely thrilling sensations only his adept tongue could provide.

He also moved the massage inward with one, two and finally three long fingers. By the time he had reached the third, combined with the slow maddening swirl of his tongue, she had already nearly shouted herself hoarse with her passionate cries and pleas.

Yet despite the numerous outpourings of feeling he continued on, with his second hand alternating between her breasts and also penetrating her navel, causing the most intense inner contractions.

“Please, Simon,” she begged. “I need you inside me.”

“Isn’t this enjoyable?” he teased, his breath a puff against her pearl of pleasure.

“It’s wonderful, truly, but I want to feel your huge length and width right up inside me. We belong together as one.”

“Yes, yes, we do. But there are an infinite variety of positions. You need to relax, take a deep breath, and promise me not to drive it on. Just hold still or I’ll have to stop.”