The Art of Love (14 page)

‘Champagne all round, I think,’ Rodney’s voice intruded on them. Champagne indeed, Tara thought. She felt as if she had drunk a glassful in one gulp and now she was immersed in the bubbles. But Leo, disappointingly, seemed to have retained his head. With a deft movement he parted them while at the same time taking Tara’s arm in his own, then he led them both to the sunny spot where the grooms had laid out the picnic rugs.

St Bourne’s Priory basked in the sun, its bones exposed to the open air, the roof long gone with only the arches at either end intact. Stones lay like lacework where they had fallen centuries earlier, marking out the cross of the church and its extensive outbuildings. It begged to be explored.

‘That must be the altar,’ Tara said to no one in particular as they finished their lunch. ‘I think I would like a closer look at it.’

‘The crypt is well worth a look, too,’ Rodney said, rising to his feet. It was a signal for the rest of the party. Tara stood up, glanced at Leo, and with one accord they strolled towards the ruin. She hoped she was not being too indiscreet, but when Leo took her arm, she found she no longer cared. His hand on her bare skin felt disturbingly intimate and she longed to know his touch on other parts of her body. She covered his hand with her own, relishing the feel of his fingers, their texture strong and slightly roughened, under her own. The voices of the others faded in the distance and soon they were alone, sheltered by the remains of the priory’s stone walls, the only sound the rasp of the long grass under their feet while the sun shone, warm and bright, on this lovely day.

‘You seem to have a number of admirers,’ Leo remarked.

‘What? Oh, not that many,’ Tara said hastily, his words bringing back Freddie’s comment from that morning. While she wondered what had made Leo say such a thing, however what she really wanted to ask was if he counted himself as one of them, but she could not bring herself to be that audacious. Besides, he might say no.

‘I’m surprised you haven’t chosen one to marry yet,’ Leo continued. ‘You had Hulme eating out of the palm of your hand, and that Frenchman, La Monte, he could be yours like a shot.’

Charming though he is, I don’t find Rodney sufficiently intriguing,’ Tara said defensively, trying to guess what point Leo was leading up to. She was quite sure he was not making idle conversation, but she could not figure out why he wished to discuss her gentleman friends.

‘La Monte is intriguing, is he not? With his mysterious past and his tales of daring escape?’

Tara glared at Leo. Surely she had made it perfectly clear that Philippe was her friend, and only her friend. Furthermore it should be obvious to Leo that she did not appreciate having her friend mocked, no matter how unbelievable a tale he had spun. ‘I have no wish to marry Philippe,’ she said stiffly, ‘but I have no wish to hear him derided. He has been through a harrowing experience and should not be blamed for wishing to re-write his history in a more pleasing manner.’

Instantly Leo’s hand fell from her arm and he looked… contrite. Tara peered at him closely, not convinced she was reading him correctly. Leo had always struck her as having far too much pride to ever regret his words, but it seemed she was wrong.

‘I did not mean to belittle your friend,’ he said simply and Tara was touched by the sincerity in his normally flashing dark eyes. ‘But I wondered, as you are so fond of him, why you have no inclination to marry him yourself.’

Because I do not feel a quarter of the attraction towards him that I feel for you,
Tara wanted to say, for that was the truth of it. Philippe had a pleasant face and a neat, even athletic figure, but he certainly did not have Leo’s height, his powerful build or his breadth of shoulders. He did not possess Leo’s glowering good looks, his artist’s hands, sensitive yet capable, and he assuredly did not have a chest she longed to bury her face in so she could breathe in the scent of his masculinity. But she could not possibly say any of that to Leo, not unless she wished to throw her reputation away in one breath. ‘He... he isn’t a suitable match,’ she stammered.

‘Is that all?’ Leo demanded, taking a step back and looking quite as shocked as she would have expected him to be if she had uttered her true thoughts out loud. So much for having a care for her reputation!

‘No, that’s not all!’ Tara snapped, suddenly quite out of patience with whatever game Leo was playing. ‘I have no mind to marry anyone at present. I am quite happy being feted by the beaux of society whenever I am in town and I am in no hurry to give that up!’ There! If he didn’t like what she had to say when she was being polite she would tell him the truth, or at least what had been the truth up until she had met Leo, and if he thought her a shameless strumpet it was a risk she was prepared to take.

To her surprise and chagrin Leo began to laugh. ‘You are devastatingly beautiful when you’re angry,’ he said. ‘Did you know that?’ Tara was too taken aback by his response to answer and when he reached out to twine her dark curls in his fingers she felt powerless to move, only her heart, it seemed, reacted and she was aware of it starting to thud faster. ‘Your eyes sparkle, your colour heightens…’ involuntarily Tara glanced down to where her bare skin rose from the low neckline of her dress, the upper curves of her breasts rising and falling with her rapid, shallow breaths. ‘Your lips become fuller…’ Leo took her chin in his other hand and ran his thumb over her mouth and she felt her lips part involuntarily at his silken touch. ‘I would love to paint you like this.’ Slowly he let his fingers run down her neck, to rest briefly on her shoulder and then trail down to her breasts. Then without hesitation he reached inside her dress to cup one breast in his hand, lifting and stroking it exquisitely while at the same time he brought his mouth down to meet hers and gave Tara the kiss she had been longing for since she had first laid eyes on him. It was a shocking intimacy but the feeling of his thumb on her nipple, teasing it into hardness was so delicious that Tara had no choice but to give herself over to the sensation entirely.

Leo Fosse knew exactly what he was doing, she realized amid the headiness of the experience. His touch was firm and assured, yet still light enough to tantalize her with promise and leave her aching for more. She kissed him back thoroughly, revelling in the feel of his lips on hers and when at last he released her she found he had robbed her of all words.

‘I think we should rejoin the others,’ Leo said huskily after a long moment, and Tara was pleased to see he appeared as shaken by their mutual desire as she was.

Leo was shaken, he had known he was attracted to Tara from the moment he had first seen her at Freddie’s party and when Rodney had arrived with her at his studio, ready for him to paint and study at his leisure, he had been more than pleased. But it was not until this moment, when he had held her, kissed her and felt the strength of her response that he realized how much he wanted her. She had kissed him with all the ardour he could have asked for and her breast in his hand had felt like a ripe peach, with the rasping hardness of her nipple pressing into his palm, telling him just how aroused she was. It had been almost impossible to end the moment of passion, but he knew, as her lips moved over his, fresh and delicious, that if he did not break away now he would not be able to trust himself and compromising her honour was the very last thing he wished to do to the woman he loved.

Chapter Eight

That evening at dinner Leo thought Tara had never looked lovelier. She was wearing a clinging dress of russet satin and had the same strand of garnets around her neck that she had worn for her portrait. For once her hair was piled high on her head instead of flowing over her shoulders, accentuating her elegant neck and giving her a regal aspect. But her real beauty seemed to come from an inner glow, as if she were somehow more alive than she had ever been before, and she seemed to walk as if she were dancing on moonlight. I did that, Leo thought in wonderment. With his touch he had introduced her to sensations she had never before imagined, Tara had revelled in them, and it showed.

Or had he? He suddenly recalled her moment of frankness when she had finally explained why she was not interested in marrying La Monte. She had made it clear how much she enjoyed the attentions of her gentleman friends. Were their attentions confined to flirting, or had she meant something more? Perhaps Tara was the mistress of one of them. It was a disturbing thought. Surely not, he told himself, Tara had too much good sense to engage in a liaison which could only end in disaster. But the idea refused to go away and he found himself watching her even more closely than usual.

Leo was quite sure she was not involved with Rodney, she would not have been concerned about refusing an offer of marriage from him if she were already his mistress. But what about Freddie, or even worse, Philippe La Monte?

‘Freddie, darling, pass the salt please?’ Tara said, smiling at Freddie across the table. Freddie obliged, leaning across with the salt cellar. Would his fingers brush hers as he passed it to her? Leo looked closely, but Freddie behaved in a perfectly perfunctory manner and not at all like a lover.

La Monte was still a possibility, though. Tara had declared twice now that she would never marry him. But that told him nothing, he knew plenty of men who had mistresses they would never marry or who would never marry them. That was really the point of such clandestine affairs - they were liaisons without responsibility or commitment. He looked at her again, wondering.

Tara must have felt his eyes upon her, for she looked up and gave him a most inviting smile. Leo felt his heart turn over in his chest, her expression was so full of the promise of things to come. He longed to take her in his arms, kiss her on and on, and continue his exploration of her body. Then it struck him, she was so passionate and so sensual, how could she not be someone’s mistress?

‘What do you think, Fosse?’ Rodney’s question cut through his reverie, but he had no idea what had come before.

‘What? Oh, er, yes,’ he said randomly.

‘It sounds like a marvellous plan,’ Antonia said. The others, including Tara, were voicing their agreement, and Leo wondered what had been organised and whether it would matter that he did not have a clue about it.

‘Not sure you’ll have the weather for it,’ Lord Hulme said.

‘That shouldn’t matter,’ Tara objected at once, whatever the plan was she certainly seemed keen. ‘I don’t mind getting a little wet.’ The thought of Tara wet, perhaps rising from a steaming bath, the water sliding off her skin and her hair framing her face with damp tendrils, filled Leo’s mind. Sensual and naked, she would be ready for anything. Had other men already been gifted with such a sight?

‘You don’t want to catch your death of cold,’ Rodney’s aunt Phyllis said reprovingly and Leo almost laughed at such a contrast with his thoughts. He would dry her on the sheets of his bed and with the warmth of his body; Tara would be in no danger from cold in his bedroom.

‘Do you find something amusing, Mr Fosse?’ Tara asked him, smiling into his eyes while the conversation around them turned to other things.

‘Appealing rather than amusing,’ Leo murmured back. He saw her eyes widen, almost as if she knew he was referring to her, and perhaps she did, from the beginning Tara had seemed uncannily in tune with him. She brought her parted lips together into a smile that was almost the shape of a kiss and he felt the stirring warmth of sensuality within him. She was so delectable, so ready for love, how could he blame her if she were the mistress of another man?

‘Dearest Tara, do say you’ll partner me tomorrow,’ Freddie suddenly said, intruding unforgivably on the moment.

‘Sorry, old chap,’ Leo said without a moment’s thought, ‘Tara has already agreed to be my partner for the scheme.’ He still had no idea what plan Rodney had proposed, but whatever it was he would make quite sure he and Tara undertook it together.

For a moment Freddie looked put out, then he shrugged his shoulders and said ‘C’est la vie,’ apparently resigning himself to squiring his cousin. There was far too much French in Tara’s life, Leo thought abstractly, but his tumultuous thoughts had crystallized. If Tara were someone’s mistress then his goal was clear; he would make her his own.

Tara woke late the next morning to find the sun blazing into her bedroom. It seemed hotter than yesterday and peering out of the window she saw some dark clouds gathering on the horizon. She dressed in her lightest muslin day dress. It was pale pink, cut in an empire line, with little capped sleeves and trimmed with darker pink ribbon. It was not a dress she wore very often - it was so pale that it always seemed to get marked within an hour of her putting it on - but she suspected the heat in the afternoon would be fierce and she did not want to be caught unprepared, rowing on the river, an hour or two away from the possibility of changing her frock.

Leo appeared to have been lingering over a last cup of tea when she entered the breakfast room. None of the other place settings at the table had yet been used and she realized that despite the lateness of the hour, she and he were the first up. It wasn’t surprising really, all of them had stayed up long into the night, playing cards and drinking wine, even Lord Hulme had remained, keeping Lady Maude and his sister Phyllis company.

‘I gather Hulme has some excursion or other in mind for today,’ Leo observed as Tara helped herself to toast and fruit. Tara glanced at him sharply. Surely he hadn’t got so drunk last night that he could not remember the gist of the plan. Although perfectly convivial, he had appeared quite sober throughout the evening. In fact, now she thought about it, other than at dinner she couldn’t recall him drinking anything at all.

‘We are rowing up to Shillingford,’ she said, taking the chair opposite Leo’s. ‘Do you not remember? You suggested that you and I row together.’ Then she felt heat rise in her face. What if he was pretending ignorance because he had changed his mind on that point? Yesterday, in the ruined priory, she had let him take liberties that she had allowed no other man. Perhaps he now thought her a wanton hussy and wanted nothing more to do with her. She risked a peek at Leo’s face. He wasn’t looking at her as if he thought her behaviour had been despicable, in fact he was looking as if he was rather enchanted with the idea of being alone in a boat with her. Tara took a large bite of toast, suddenly feeling full of energy and looking forward to the day ahead. Perhaps she had behaved like a wanton hussy, but she was quite sure Leo had liked it.