The Baron's Betrayal (18 page)

The smoke must still be affecting her, causing her mouth to dry up. Her heart picked up its cadence, and she began to squirm. “Did you want to speak to me?”

“Oh, yes.” He moved closer until his body touched hers, his hand pushing up the hem of her banyan, then resting on her bare thigh. She shivered as his other hand slid along her shoulders until he cupped her neck. “But first, this.”

He leaned down and took her mouth in a soft, gentle kiss that quickly turned into something fierce and demanding. He encircled her waist and drew her closer, and her heart pounded as if it were about to jump out of her chest. His hand drifted to her shoulder and slid the banyan off. The silk landed in a swish in her lap.

“I remember how beautiful you are. Although I cannot see you, my hands will be my eyes.” He used feather touches to trace along her brows, her cheekbones, then scaled her jaw, neck, chest, and finally her breasts. He cupped their weight, then he tugged on her nipple. “You have grown fuller with the babe. I wonder what other changes he has wrought?” Bending his head, he whispered, “I shall have to investigate.” His mouth encircled her breast and he feasted.

She hummed as he suckled, her hands in his hair, running her fingers through the silken locks. This was an entirely new Tristan. Even in the early days of their marriage, he hadn’t been so suggestive in his comments. Her core grew damp, and she shifted her legs; her insides tightened in anticipation of what he would do next.

Casting off her reticence, she grasped the edges of the tie holding his banyan closed and pulled. His robe fell open and she treated herself to a glimpse of golden skin, hair-dusted muscular chest, and strong legs. He was all male beauty, strong and firm in all the right places. His cock stood proud and thick, drawing her hand to grasp its strength, gliding her fingertips over the velvety softness.

“Yes, my love, touch me. Work your magic.” He eased her back, quickly unfastened the tie at her waist, and spread the robe apart. Starting at her knees, he moved both his palms up her legs, skimming his thumbs over her mons and continuing up to encircle her waist. “You are too slender for my babe. We must fatten you up.”

What was he about?
Unless the knock on her head had caused her to lose her memory as well as give her a headache, Tristan did not want this child. Did not want her and had ordered her to leave. But this man with his talented mouth and hands did not seem like a husband who wanted to end their marriage. Unless this was a good-bye coupling. She pushed the thought away. Tristan was not dishonest enough for such subterfuge.

His hands continued their journey until they cupped her cheeks. Once he took her in a searing kiss, all thoughts of babes and journeys home left her mind. His mouth was soft and strong at the same time. He nibbled at her lip, then soothed the spot with his tongue.

Tristan’s scent drifted to her, replacing the sandalwood and leather of Beckwith’s robe. Spicy and musky, she inhaled deeply, then opened her mouth at his urging. They dueled with their tongues, the restlessness in her body seeking relief.

“Ah, my love, perhaps another part of your glorious body demands my attention.”

Still caught up in wonder at the change in her husband, a soft moan was all she could manage as his hands roamed her heated flesh, then found the spot she ached for him to touch. Her body arched like a bow as his fingers found her opening and swirled around, the sound of her moisture mixed with their panting raising her temperature until she thought she would explode.

“Speak to me, my love. Tell me what you want me to do, what will bring you the most pleasure. Or shall I try something new, even if it scandalizes?”

Unable to speak a coherent thought, she merely nodded frantically before she remembered he couldn’t see her. “Yes,” she squeaked. The smoke had done a lot of damage.

He chuckled as he dipped his tongue into her belly button, then continued to kiss his way down until he reached the curls at the apex of her thighs. “Yes, I shall feast on this part of your body.” He spread her legs wide, then nuzzled her, inhaling deeply. She would have been mortified, if not so captivated by his attentions.

Marion squealed as his tongue licked her again and again until she thought she would break into a million pieces. She felt herself climbing, straining to reach a pinnacle. The feeling was glorious and frightening at the same time. All her thoughts were focused on that one spot where her husband lapped like a starving cat with a bowl of fresh cream.

Tristan stopped and blew warm air on her tender flesh. Then taking her bud into his mouth, he suckled. She gripped his head, tightening all her muscles as waves of pleasure washed over her.

Tristan rested his head on her belly as she whimpered, her body covered in a fine sheen of perspiration, her muscles like water, her breathing slowly returning to normal. Before she rested barely a minute, he moved up her body and plunged into her with a force that pushed her back against the headboard.

“Sweetheart, I will not last. Your body is so welcoming, so warm and moist. I love you so much, need you so much. Never leave me, promise you will never leave me.”

Before she could respond to this confusing statement, he covered her mouth with his and drove his tongue into her mouth, mimicking the movements of his body. Within moments, he stiffened and groaned as he emptied his seed into her.

What the bloody hell just happened?

Chapter Twenty

Tristan rolled off Marion and pulled her close, wrapping her in his arms. They both fought for breath, but unlike a few hours ago, the lack of air was a good thing, derived from a feisty bout of passion. Making love had always been good with Marion, but now that he was free of the shackles that had kept him tied in knots, there were simply no words to describe his feelings.

The thought of fire no longer crippled him. He’d slayed that dragon. He loved his wife, she loved him, and they would soon have a child. One of many, he hoped.

He would work his hardest to be the best husband and father anyone could be. No longer would he feel inept because of his blindness. A very wise person once said the best thing a father can do for his children is to love their mother. That would be no problem.

“Why are you grinning?” Marion said. “Your house just burned down, and we are making love in a man’s bed whom I’ve never met. Our staff is most likely unemployed, all of our personal items, including clothes, went up in flames, and Argos is scratching at the door and crying.”

Tristen threw back his head and laughed. “I love you, Marion.” He leaned over and bestowed a kiss to her forehead. “Everything is fine. We have each other, and soon a babe to bless our family.”

“Um, yes. About that. I thought you wanted no part of me or our child?”

“Oh, my love. I was so wrong. I don’t want to go one day without you by my side. We shall have a happy, healthy boy—or girl—and siblings to follow.”

She turned in his arms. “Do you really mean that, Tristan?”

“Absolutely.” He closed his eyes and pulled her closer. “There is more than one sort of blindness, you know. And I’m afraid I had the worst kind. Please forgive me. I will spend all the years of our life together making it up to you.”

She smoothed the damp curls from his forehead. “I love you so much.” The catch in her voice troubled him.

He cupped her cheeks and brushed away the tears with his thumbs. “Please don’t cry, sweetheart. I am so, so sorry for what I have put you through.”

“I don’t understand. Why have you changed your mind? Was it the fire?”

“No, my love. I was on my way back from my club to beg your forgiveness and ask you to stay when I smelled the fire. Never in my life have I been so afraid.” He placed his palm on her stomach. “To think I almost lost you and our child. I shudder when I imagine what could have happened.”

“What will we do now?”

“Make love several more times, then sleep, then make love again, then eat, make love again, then—”

“Stop.” She laughed, the sound warming him from head to toe. “I think I understand what you’re trying to say. What I mean is, what about our smoldering house across the street?”

“My house was insured. That is why the firefighters came. They are employed by the insurance company.”

“Do you mean if our home wasn’t insured, no one would have come?”

“That is correct. The insurance company has a motivation to save as much of an insured’s burning house as they can. So we can rebuild, but I find there is no hurry to do so. I want to return to the country, anyway. The city is no place for my pregnant wife, and certainly no place to raise a child.”

“I would like that. I find after my years of solitude that city life does not appeal. I wouldn’t mind returning to London for a few weeks each Season, but for the most part, I prefer country life.”

“Then country life is what you shall have, Lady Tunstall.”

At that moment Marion’s stomach let out with a very unladylike growl.

“It appears the babe is telling us you are hungry.”

She giggled. “I believe so.”

“Come, let us see what we can have Cook fix for us in this unknown house.”

“Tristan, that is another problem. What shall we do about the London staff?”

“They will go to the country with us, if they choose. Between us, Manchester, and Abigail and her husband, we will find places for them. Any that do not want to leave Town will receive a generous pension, along with an excellent reference.”

“Oh, what a wonderful idea.”

He kissed her on the tip of her nose. “You see, my sweet? Your husband can solve any problem that might arise.”

“I always knew that. I am glad that you now agree with me.”

Epilogue

Six months later
…

Marion tucked the blanket securely around three-week-old the Honorable Miss Daisy Susan Tunstall and settled her on her lap. The early June morning was cool, but she always enjoyed sitting on the terrace with the baby as the sun rose. Given the baby’s propensity for rising early, it suited both mother and daughter just fine.

They rocked gently for a while, savoring the smell of new summer flowers and the soft breeze that tickled her face. The baby had finished nursing and was fast asleep in her mother’s arms, a slight ring of breast milk around her sweet mouth. Marion took in a deep breath and let it out, happier than she’d ever been in her life.

In the distance, Tristan walked the path through the garden, Argos by his side. Man and dog strode briskly for a while, then slowed down and meandered for a bit. It was his morning ritual, soon to be followed by dealing with estate matters. By afternoon he and Ellis would be training the dogs they kept in the kennels behind the house. When the animals were considered ready, they would be given to their growing list of blind individuals who wrote to them, asking for dogs to assist them in their daily lives.

Tristan’s success with Argos, and then with training other dogs, was becoming well known. It pleased him to have the ability to help others who found themselves scared and trying to adapt to a sightless life.

“Where are my ladies?” Tristan’s deep voice cut into her musing.

“My goodness. Just a minute or so ago you were out in the garden. How did you get here so quickly?”

“The thought of spending time with my favorite two ladies hurried my footsteps.”

She glanced up, her heart warming every time she looked at him. “I asked Mason to have a footman bring us breakfast out here on the terrace. I thought it would be pleasant.”

Tristan leaned over and kissed the baby on her brow. “How is my little angel today?”

“Hungry. As usual.” She ran her finger down the baby’s soft cheek. “Mother will be visiting today. She sent a note along yesterday. I forgot to mention it.”

“Excellent. I love having your family visit.”

“She has received a letter from Sybil. Remember I told you she was traveling to Scotland to attend Lady Margaret’s wedding?”

“Yes, I remember. And how is her trip going?”

“Mother said her letter was a bit confusing. Something about a Scotsman who was causing her some trouble. I’m not sure what that means, but hopefully she will explain further when she visits today.”

“Ah, well. Where Sybil is concerned, one never knows.”

Marion nodded, then rose to place Daisy in her cradle next to the small table that was being set for breakfast. Tristan held out her chair, then kissed the top of her head before taking his place.

Never, during her two years of misery while she had mourned her husband, had she thought to be truly happy again. Life takes one for a ride, going down one path, then switching to another. She thanked God every day that her path had led to Tristan. Back in her arms once more.

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Author’s Note

There is an entire organization dedicated to blind archery. The methods they use to participate in the sport are similar to what Ellis rigged up for Tristan.

The device that the doctor used on Marion to check her lungs that she thought resembled a musical instrument was actually an early stethoscope invented in
France in 1816 by René Laennec at the Necker-Enfants Malades Hospital in Paris.
(I took the liberty of moving it up a year,
since my story takes place in 1815.)

Guide dogs were used to assist the blind as early as the Middle Ages. However, they were not referred to as “guide dogs” until after World War I when they were used to assist veterans who lost their sight in battle.

In early 19
th
century London, insurance companies would hire firefighters, known as insurance brigades, to save the homes they insured. In 1866 the insurance companies told the city fathers that continuing to fight fires was becoming too expensive. That year
the Metropolitan Fire Brigade took over responsibility for protecting all life and property from fire throughout London.