The Bridal Quest (28 page)

He lifted her, carrying her over to the pillows that lay tumbled across the floor near the wall. After setting her down, he went to the last garment that covered her, untying the ribbons at the waist of her pantaloons. The waistband sagged, and he slipped his hands beneath it, slowly shoving the material down as his hands slid down over the sides of her hips. The undergarment fell to her feet, leaving her naked to his gaze except for the thin stockings on her legs, more provocative than concealing, and her flimsy dancing slippers.

He looked at her, his eyes heavy-lidded with desire, his face flushed. A lady, she supposed, should have been repulsed by the lust stamped upon his features, but she found that the way he looked at her only made her want him more.

Gideon curved his hands over her backside, then around, and after going down on one knee, he rolled her stockings down, one by one, taking the garters with them, then lifted each foot and took off her dancing slipper and pulled the stocking free. She reached a hand to his shoulder for balance. His flesh was searing.

He pressed a soft kiss against the inside of her thigh just above her knee, and repeated the action with the other leg. Then he reached up and pulled her down onto the pillows beside him. Irene lay back, watching Gideon as he stood and divested himself of the rest of his garments, carelessly kicking off the formal shoes, and peeling down the breeches and stockings.

He looked, she thought, magnificent naked—powerful and muscled—and even though it was a little frightening to see for the first time the hard evidence of his desire, it was also compelling. She could not imagine taking him into her, and yet at the same time heat expanded between her legs, making her want to open to him.

He lay down beside her, propped up on one elbow. He looked down at her, slowly moving his hand over her body, caressing and teasing, arousing ever more delightful sensations in her. Irene's skin felt deliciously alive, sensitive to the slightest touch, and she was aware of a very wanton desire to spread her legs for him, a desire she suppressed until he slid his hand down the center of her body, over her stomach and between her thighs.

She drew a shaky breath and closed her eyes, feeling sure that this should be embarrassing, not wonderful, but unable to feel anything but eager pleasure. Delicately, his fingers explored this innermost secret part of her, separating and stroking the tender folds, slick with moisture. Irene could not hold back a moan, and she arched up against his questing fingers, seeking release.

"Gideon ..." His name was a shaky whisper.

He bent and brushed his lips over her mouth, murmuring, "Not just yet. Let me make it easier for you."

"I want you," she said more clearly, opening her eyes and gazing up into his.

He tightened as if she had touched him and drew a slow breath. "I know. I know. And you have no idea what that does to me." He nuzzled against her neck, his breath sending shivers through her. "But first ... this will help."

He kissed her breasts, playing with her nipples with his tongue and lips, fanning the flames of her desire. And as he did so, he slipped a finger inside her, stroking her, and then another, stretching and filling her, opening her.

Irene moved her legs restlessly, digging her heels into the pillows beneath her and moving against his hand. He let out a little laughing groan, and then, at last, he moved between her legs. His hands beneath her hips, he lifted her and slowly, carefully, sank into her.

Irene gasped, pain flashing through her briefly and she tightened. Gideon paused, waiting, and gradually she relaxed. Gently, inexorably, he slid into her, filling her. Irene wrapped her legs around him, moving a little to take him in more fully. He began to move within her, slowly pulling back and thrusting in, and with each movement something tightened within her, coiling harder and tighter.

She sobbed, moving with him, yearning for something that she could not even name. And then she felt it explode within her, a pleasure so deep and intense that she was rocked by it. She shuddered, clinging to him, as Gideon thrust hard and deep inside her, crying out as his own release took him. Waves of pleasure washed through her, rippling outward to every part of her body. He collapsed against her, and Irene wrapped her arms around him, stunned by what she had felt.

Whatever happened, she thought hazily, whether Gideon ever came to love her or not, she knew that she had found her home.

The next morning, when Irene went downstairs to breakfast, she wondered a little nervously how she would act when she saw Gideon.

The night before, after their lovemaking, he had walked with her back to the house, his arm around her. They had said little, peaceful and content in the moment, stopping now and then to kiss or just to stand with their arms around each other. They had waited until after everyone else had gone to bed to return, and she had slipped in the back door and crept up to her room, while he had waited for several minutes before he came in more boldly. Tired and happy, she had gone immediately to bed and, hugging her happy knowledge to herself, had drifted off to sleep.

This morning, however, she could see all the problems that might present themselves. For one thing, it seemed likely that someone—or more than a few someones—would have noticed that both she and Gideon had been absent for the last part of the evening. What if someone mentioned it? What would she say? She could not allow herself to blush and stammer, for then it would be immediately apparent that she was guilty of some indiscretion.

But more than that, she feared that when she first looked at him, it would be clear to everyone what she felt for him ...

what they had done. And deep down somewhere there lay a little niggling fear that when he saw her, he would regret everything, that in the time since she had last seen him, he would have come to wonder why he had ever thought he wanted to marry her.

But when she walked into the dining room and saw him sitting at the table, all her doubts and worries disappeared instantly. He glanced up from his plate, and though he did not smile, there was a swift, intense look in his eyes that welcomed her more than any words could have.

"Lady Irene," he said, rising and stepping over to pull out her chair. "I trust you slept well last night, after all the exertion ... of the dance."

He looked down into her eyes, his own vivid green eyes brimming with intimate laughter.

"Thank you, Lord Radbourne. I spent a very pleasant night," she replied, casting back her own flirtatious glance as she took her seat. "It must be the air here."

"I always find country air most salubrious," Lady Salisbridge offered. "Though my two girls," she added with an indulgent smile, "are rather slugabeds this morning, I am afraid. But then, they do so love to dance."

"It was a wonderful ball," Mrs. Surton said. "Such talented musicians, such lovely flowers. I must applaud your talents, Lady Radbourne, to offer so excellent an entertainment in the country."

Everyone else joined in to compliment both the countesses, who received the praise with gracious smiles. Irene cast an amused glance up the table at Francesca, who gave her a slow wink in return.

Irene's gaze went next to Lady Odelia, who gave her such a regal nod and smile that Irene suspected Gideon had already told his great-aunt about their plans to marry. The thought of their marriage made Irene feel giddy all over again, and she turned her gaze back down to her plate to hide her smile.

When all the praise and rehashing of the dance the evening before died down, Francesca said lightly, "Now all that is left is to decide what we shall do today."

"Oh, yes," Miss Surton agreed with a giggle. "What shall we do? Lawn tennis was terribly amusing, was it not?"

"Particularly your serve, Ro," her brother Percy replied.

"Oh, you!" She made a pouting face at him. "You, I am sure, will want to go riding again."

"That sounds splendid," Miss Hurley was quick to agree.

"Where would we go?" asked Callie. "We have been all around the estate, have we not?"

Both the Hurleys and Mr. Surton looked rather bemused by the suggestion that any enticement other than being on a horse was needed.

"There are caves not far from here, near the river," Gideon offered. "I have not seen them, but I have been told they are quite interesting."

"The caves!" Lady Teresa gasped. "Oh, no, we cannot go there. They are too dangerous."

"What nonsense." Lady Odelia snorted. "I have been there several times. When we were younger, of course, eh. Pansy? There is nothing dangerous about them, providing one doesn't go wandering off and get lost, that is."

"Lord Cecil never allowed anyone to go there," Lady Teresa responded primly.

"No doubt he didn't want everyone poking about in them," Lady Odelia remarked. "One wouldn't. But I never heard of there being anything wrong with them, have you, Pansy?"

"No, dear," her sister responded, adding kindly to Teresa, "I imagine dear Cecil was just being very careful of you and Timmy. And he did want to protect them from strangers, you know. Said people were apt to damage the formations. But the caves are quite worth seeing. Unusual."

"That sounds like just the thing," Piers said, and all the younger members of the party were quick to agree.

"I am sure that Cook will be able to fill up some picnic baskets for us," Francesca added, with a significant glance at Irene.

Irene knew that look meant that she should arrange for the food baskets with the housekeeper and cook, as she had been the one in charge of dealing with the kitchen and household matters for the week of the party. So as soon as breakfast was over, she made her way to the kitchen to broach the matter.

The housekeeper, Mrs. Jeffries, seemed to have taken a strong liking to Irene, who was not sure about the reason for the woman's attitude, though she suspected it lay in the inadequacies of Lady Teresa and Lady Pansy as mistresses of the house. The housekeeper had turned to Irene with increasing frequency in recent days, and even the formidable Horroughs had consulted with her on the rare occasions when he had been uncertain about an issue concerning the guests.

However, it appeared to Irene that today the smile with which Mrs. Jeffries greeted her was especially bright, and that there was an extra touch of deference in the housekeeper's assurances that she would have the baskets made up and brought down to the caves for the group's luncheon by one o'clock. Irene also noticed several surreptitious glances in her direction from the servants, as well as a good bit of whispering and smiling.

Could it be that the servants already knew about her engagement to Gideon? It seemed impossible, as it had happened only the night before. Of course, the servants always knew everything first. No doubt if Gideon had told his grandmother or great-aunt about it, there had been a maid nearby who had overheard the news.

Irene pretended not to notice their behavior, and as soon as her business with the housekeeper was done, she left the kitchen and returned to her room to change.

Glancing at herself in the mirror as she pulled off her morning dress, it occurred to her that perhaps the servants—and even Lady Odelia—had guessed that something was up simply by looking at her. She had not realized it when she went down to breakfast that morning, but there was a glow of happiness on her features that nothing could conceal. Her cheeks were warm with color, her eyes shone, and her mouth was turned up as if she was just about to break out in a smile.

She studied herself, turning her head this way and that trying to pull her expression into something more dignified—or at least less transparent. But it took only a minute for her give up, laughing. What did it matter, she thought, if everyone could guess that she was head over heels in love? All she cared about right now was the future that awaited her with Gideon. She could scarcely wait, in fact, to get started on the rest of her life.

But there was the rest of the party to get through—and she rather looked forward to exploring the caves with Gideon—so she quickly changed into her riding habit and pinned the insouciant little cap to her head, angling it just right, so that the glossy black feather curled down to caress the side of her face. High black leather boots and black leather gloves completed her ensemble, and she took a last turn in front of the mirror, pleased with the image she presented. Unlike the high-waisted fashion that was currently the mode in frocks, the fitted jacket of the riding habit showed off her figure quite nicely, and the warm brown color went well with her coloring. Of course, she thought as she left the room with a light step, today she would have felt beautiful in rags.

* * * * *

Irene rode between Francesca and Calandra on the way down to the caves, leaving Gideon and the other men to entertain the rest of the girls. It would not, after all, be well-mannered to be too obvious about Gideon's preference for her company.

They rode through the meadow and came around to the river, which they followed, led by the Park's head groom. They rode in the general direction of the distant hills, away from both the village and the road back to London. Almost imperceptibly, the lane beside the river began to narrow and the land beyond it to rise, until before long they were riding through a small gorge with limestone bluffs rising up beside them on either side. Finally the head groom stopped and spoke to Gideon, pointing ahead toward a line of bushes at base of the bluff.

Irene shaded her eyes with her hand and saw a shadow behind the shrubs, darker and more substantial than the lacework of the leaves and branches. She dismounted, as did the others, and they made their way up the slight incline to the entrance of the cave.

The entrance was an ink-black gap in the white rock, and though it was somewhat sheltered by a large boulder on one side, there was ample room for two people to pass through the gap side by side.

The men had come equipped with lanterns, which they lit now, and the group started into the cave. Francesca and Irene brought up the rear, with Rochford dropping back politely to hold a light for them.

However, they had barely made their way through the gap when Miss Hurley, quite surprisingly, became unnerved by the dark and the smallness of their quarters, not to mention the thought of the mountain of rock pressing down above her head, and she balked, refusing to go any farther. Francesca, suppressing a sigh, said that she would stay outside with the girl, and Mr. Surton, after a last, longing glance at the dark cave beyond, gallantly offered to remain to keep the ladies company. The rest of them went on, a somewhat depleted party.

The cave was a tunnel at first, about the same size as the opening, but as they walked forward, it opened up into a larger room, and here the group stopped, gathering into a loose circle. Irene gazed around her in some awe.

The cave extended in all directions past the reach of the lanterns, and everywhere rocks appeared to grow up from the floor or hang down from the ceiling, slick with moisture, so that they gleamed a little in the lights.

The duke's scholarly friend, Mr. Strethwick, had come along on the expedition, intrigued by the prospect of the caves, and now the shy man, who had kept silent the entire trip, began to babble about the stalagmites and stalactites that lay before them, explaining their formation, going on about salts and minerals and limestone. Irene only half listened, too entranced by the eerie beauty of the scene to care overmuch about its origins.

As Mr. Strethwick talked, the groom went back to their horses and brought in several tall torches, which he planted in the ground and set afire so that the main room of the cave was better lit, and they were able to take their lanterns off with them to explore further.

The duke advised them to remain in a group and not go wandering off on their own, and such was the man's air of authority that no one disobeyed him. Irene was well content to stroll along with everyone else, especially after Gideon fell back to walk beside her.

There was much to see, with smaller tunnels and caves opening off from others. There were odd rippling formations of stone and earth that looked like drapes, and others that seemed like waterfalls frozen in motion. The members of the group pointed out various rocks, saying how one looked like a kneeling man and another like a toadstool, and so on.

Hunger, however, finally drove them back outside, where they found the picnic laid out and waiting for them by the river. Irene started to go over to where Francesca sat, but Gideon wrapped his hand around her wrist.

"No, stay," he murmured in a low voice.

She looked at him and smiled, nodding, then sat down on the rock beside him. He had chosen well, she realized, for the broad rock on which they sat was situated so that, though other people sat on either side of them, their rock jutted out in front of the others, leaving them almost alone together without giving the appearance of privacy or impropriety.

They chatted as they ate, talking more about the caves than about themselves, but the important things were said in their smiles, and in the way their eyes met or his mouth softened when he looked at her. Afterward, Irene remembered little about their conversation, but she would always remember the contentment and peace she felt, the warmth and joy. She would never forget the sun upon her face as she looked up at Gideon, the bright green of his eyes when the sunlight touched them or the rustle of the leaves in the trees as a breeze passed through them.

Later, she knew, she might worry about whether she had made a mistake in saying yes. She might wonder if it would be enough to be Gideon's wife, to know that he valued her as a friend and desired her in his bed, even if he never loved her. Fear might come upon her in the night, and she might cry to herself, knowing that she loved him with all her heart and afraid that he had spoken the truth when he said he could not love.