Marigold Chain (47 page)

‘
For you are fairer than the evening air
… and my
only love.’

Her breathing
wholly disrupted and her bones melting in a maelstrom of desire,
Chloë reached out to him. And shedding the rest of his clothes
without once taking his eyes from her, Alex took the hand that she
offered and lay down beside her. Flesh met flesh and Chloë gasped,
stunned by the sudden explosion of sensation; and when he kissed
her again, the sparks in her blood became wildfire.

After so long
an abstinence and with the only girl he wanted in his arms at last,
Alex had to exert iron control over his own desire – and
simultaneously use all the skills he owned to make sure that she
would not know it. Slowly, tantalisingly, he explored her body with
his mouth and with light, questing hands … rejoicing in every
tremor of response and leading her, with every grace and care at
his command, towards the ultimate delight. And Chloë, intoxicated
by the muscle and bone beneath his skin, driven beyond all thought
and consumed by a hunger greater than anything she could ever have
imagined, said two words without knowing what they were.

Alex looked at
her, his control all but gone yet still needing to be sure. And
then, at long last, gratefully forsook his exquisite courtship and
entered the fire and silk she offered him.

Much later, he
smiled down into her cloudy brown eyes and stroked tendrils of hair
from her cheek. Gradually, her eyes focused on his, their
expression one that stopped his breath for a moment. Then he said,
‘Well, my heart?’

She stirred
slightly. ‘Alex … I didn’t know.’ Her mouth found his hand. ‘I love
you so much.’

‘
And I
you. Always and forever.’

They slept then
till the sun rose, filling the room with a rosy glow and it was
Alex who woke first. For a long time he was content to lie still,
holding her against his heart and looking down into her sleeping
face and at the bright hair spread in gleaming disorder across his
arm. Then, unable to resist any longer, he set about waking her
with the lazy drift of his hands.

Her eyes opened
slowly and she smiled up at him. And this time it was she who drew
his head down to hers and, sliding a slender foot along his calf,
said simply, ‘Oh yes. Please.’

They slept
again to wake far into the day when Mr Deveril roused his love by
tickling her face with a strand of rose-gold hair. Propped lazily
on one elbow, he lifted one eyebrow and said, ‘Hello. I’ve married
a turnip. Do you realise it’s already tomorrow?’

Chloë started
to laugh and then thought returned bringing recollection flooding
in its wake. Her eyes flew suddenly wide and she made a small,
incoherent sound.

Alex eyed her
quizzically.

‘
In
general, I rather like the profound effect I appear to have on you.
But just what have I said this time to deprive you of breath?’ He
waited, idly tracing the line of her jaw with one finger until,
when she didn’t reply, ‘Well, Marigold?’

A tide of
colour washed over her and Alex watched its progress with interest.
Then she swallowed and said weakly, ‘You just reminded me of a
little thing I forgot to mention.’

‘
I
did?’

‘
Yes. You
may perhaps feel that I should have recalled it
earlier.’

‘
Oh I
shouldn’t think so,’ he replied vaguely, his finger descending to
investigate her clavicle and beyond it. ‘You’ve been somewhat
occupied, after all.’

‘
Only
somewhat?’ She hoped keeping the mood light would help. ‘You mean
you can do better?’

‘
We can
try to find out, if you like.’ He sounded amused and deceptively
casual. ‘Now. What was it that you wanted to tell me?’

Knowing that
the sooner it was done the better, Chloë shut her eyes and said
flatly, ‘We’re not married.’

The straying
finger was abruptly stilled and the silence grew to monumental
proportions. Then, with careful precision, Alex said, ‘What did you
say?’

She opened her
eyes on a wide, blue and quite unreadable gaze.

‘
We’re
not married. We haven’t been since Saturday. I – I got the
annulment papers from the King.’

‘
Did
you?’ His tone was still level, if mildly strained.
‘Why?’

She’d known he
would ask but had never planned an answer. Averting her face from
the penetrating eyes, she said, ‘I thought it was a good idea.’

With one
gentle, economic movement, Mr Deveril turned her face back towards
him.

‘
Why?’

Even if she
could have thought of a convincing lie, Chloë knew better than to
suppose that she could fool him now. She sighed. ‘Because I should
have refused to marry you in the first place – and I could have
done. And because I didn’t want to make a habit of hitting you over
the head.’

For a second,
he stared at her so oddly that she wondered if he’d understood.
Then he said, ‘Oh God, Marigold – my delightful, wanton darling –
my only mistake lay in giving you the chance.’ And burying his face
in the pillows, he dissolved into helpless, gurgling laughter.

It was a long
time before he recovered and then, still hiccupping faintly, he
said, ‘There are times, this being one, when you scare the hell out
of me.’

‘
Really?
I’m flattered.’

‘
Don’t
be.’ His skin was flushed and his eyes brilliant. ‘The only reason
I’m not beating you is that I’m rather taken with the idea of you
lusting after my body.’

Chloë sat up in
mock indignation and was pulled flat again with a lazy sweep of one
arm.

‘
Also,’
continued Mr Deveril, ‘I’m aware that you did it for me – no, don’t
argue. I’m just coming to the crux of the matter.’ He smiled with
singular charm. ‘I never proposed to you, did I, Chloë? Nor courted
or wooed you as you deserve?’

She flushed and
laid her hand against his chest.

‘
I’ve had
my courtship. All I ever wanted.’

He took her
hand and held it.

‘
I’m
glad.’ He paused, the blue eyes suddenly very serious indeed and
went on simply, ‘My name is Alex Deveril and I’ve nothing to offer
you but a rather shabby home and a great deal of love. Will you
marry me?’

Chloë’s vision
blurred with tears.

‘
Alex …
you don’t have to … there is no need.’

His fingers
tightened on hers. ‘For me, there is. I love you and I want you as
my wife. Do you think I’d have taken you if I’d known?’

She shook her
head, blinking. ‘No. I know that you wouldn’t.’

‘
Which is
why you didn’t tell me until today.’

‘
Yes. But
you - - ‘ She broke off, shaken by unwilling laughter. ‘Alex, you
can’t propose to me in bed!’

‘
Why not?
If you consider the key moments in our relationship from the first
day we met, this seems fairly consistent. But you haven’t answered
me and we’re not going anywhere until you do. So are you going to
marry me or not?’

And put like
that, in a manner so typically Alex, there was only one answer.

‘
Yes and
yes and yes. Of course I’ll marry you,’ she said, half-laughing,
half-crying. And was swept into the crushing embrace that Alex
could no longer deny her … or himself.

‘
Good,’
he said a little later. ‘Now let’s get dressed and go and see if
His Majesty can undo what’s been done. He said he was in my debt -
so now he can prove it.’

*

Hand in hand,
they stood before Charles Stuart while his cynical dark eyes moved
from one to the other of them and began to twinkle with
amusement.

‘
Let me
guess,’ he said. ‘You want me to annul your annulment.’

‘
No, Your
Majesty,’ replied Mr Deveril calmly. ‘We want to be married.
Tonight.’

The King raised
one mocking brow and started to laugh.

‘
I’m
relieved to hear it. There’s far too much laxity at
Court.’

Stifling a
laugh, Chloë said demurely, ‘I knew we could count on your
understanding, sire – so we have Mr Lewis outside, ready to support
Alex through the ceremony.’

Alex cast her
an oblique and very private smile.

‘
It seems
a small enough reward,’ Charles observed, ‘for unmasking a traitor
and helping preserve poor London.’

‘
It’s
enough, sire. Everything, in fact.’

The King
surveyed him thoughtfully.

‘
It
doesn’t appear to have occurred to you that I might have some ideas
of my own as to how best to recompense you,’ he remarked dryly,
taking a large sealed document from his desk. ‘But your reasons are
clear … and, moreover, not unpleasing since it’s rare enough that I
can give more than is asked. On this occasion, however, I can not
only make the reward I would wish, but one poetically just.
This.’

Very slowly,
Alex accepted the parchment and, with a hand that was suddenly a
little unsteady, broke the seal. Then he drew Chloë close within
his arm so that they could read it together. The language was
heavily ornamented with legal aphorisms but the sense was plain
enough. The Crown was restoring to Alexander Charles Deveril and
the heirs of his body, the properties lately held by Simon Robert
Deveril – to wit, certain estates in Kent and a town house on the
Strand.

Two pairs of
eyes stared dazedly at their sovereign and then turned meditatively
to each other.

‘
Well,
well,’ said Alex, with careful restraint. ‘It seems I’ve something
to offer you after all.’

Blinking
back tears, Chloë said softly, ‘You always did have.’ And then, for
His Majesty’s benefit, ‘But
three
houses? What on earth are we going to do with them
all?’

A slow,
beautiful smile lit Mr Deveril’s face and his arm tightened about
her waist.

‘
I’m
sure,’ he replied cheerfully, ‘that we’ll think of something. But
first I’m going to take you to Kent for our bridal trip. You’ll
like it.’

‘
Kent?’
she asked gently.

The radiant
eyes laughed tantalisingly back at her.

‘
Naturally. What else?’

~ * * * ~

In the end, as
in the beginning, silence hung over London. Three-quarters of the
City, from Custom House to the Temple and as far north as
Cripplegate, was now nothing but a smouldering wasteland of
wreckage; and the loss was immeasurable. Houses by the thousand,
public buildings by the score and the only bridge spanning the
Thames. The craft and heritage of centuries reduced, in four short
days, to ashes.

Alone in his
office, the young Surveyor-General, Mr Wren, burned with the fires
of enthusiasm and opportunity as he joyfully tore up his recently
completed plans for the re-modelling of what, a week since, had
been the existing structure of Paul’s Cathedral. For quite a long
time he merely sat, chin in hand, and gazed far into the future to
the grand new design that was only a part of his vision for a
gleaming, orderly city of stone.

And then,
smiling, he drew a sheet of parchment before him and picked up his
pen.

~ * * * ~