Virginia Henley (33 page)

“Yes, Mark?”

“Mind your own damned business.”

Charles grinned with delight, not the least bit offended.

As soon as she was alone, Diana slipped from the bed and opened the wardrobe. There hung the hideous beige pannier dress and, beside it, the old-fashioned corset. Her glance then fell on the trunk she had left behind the morning she had run away from Hardwick Hall. She knelt down to open it and memory of her pretty new clothes came flooding back.

Here was the saucy red half-corset and the jade velvet gown she had bought at Madame Madeleine’s. She shook out the velvet folds and hung it up, then did the same with her other dresses. Diana tucked the nightgown she was wearing beneath the pillow and donned the corset. It certainly wasn’t as exotic as her Roman garments, but she was willing to bet it was the most daring article of clothing in modern-day Bath.

She put on her smart black riding habit, then twisted her long hair into a chignon at the nape of her neck. When she couldn’t find the earl indoors, she wandered out toward the stables. He was saddling a horse, and when she asked him to saddle one for her, he frowned.

“The weather isn’t conducive to a sedate ride in the park, Lady Diana.”

He was back to addressing her formally. She wondered if it was because of the severely cut riding habit. “I don’t ride sedately. I have learned to ride neck or nothing, as I have learned to do most other things. It’s so much more exhilarating.”

“The doctor advised you not to overdo it.”

She lifted her chin with
hauteur.
“You are not the only one who needs the outlet of a wild ride every once in a while. Being caged indoors makes me, too, long for freedom.”

He relented and saddled the horse for her. Apparently they shared the same feelings about freedom. He took her
to the back of his acres to the site of the dig, where she dismounted and plodded about in the mud, as fascinated as he was himself with the archaeological project.

From there they rode to the stone quarries, where he noted she asked the workmen scores of intelligent questions. It dawned upon him that she was not pretending an interest to flatter him, as most women would do, she was genuinely curious.

When they stopped at an inn for a bite of lunch, the earl did not dare to order a private room. They kept a cool distance between them while they ate and talked, as if they had declared an unspoken truce. They avoided personal topics, they avoided antagonizing each other, and they avoided any reference to last night.

Their politeness continued on the ride back to Hardwick Hall. When they arrived, both were pleased with themselves. They had spent time together without once losing their tempers. It was a relief to both of them that they could act in such a civilized manner.

Diana went to her room, determined to take a nap so that she would not be overtired later this evening. It was possible that Prudence, Richard, and Peter could arrive tonight if the roads were passable. She removed the riding habit and hung it in the wardrobe. Tonight she would wear the jade gown to give her confidence. She did not wish to be at a disadvantage when she faced Prudence.

The chamber door swung open. “Diana, I—”

Mark’s black eyes took in the long legs, the succulent breasts, and the saucy red garment in the space between. The picture she made was such a contrast with the one she had presented in the severe riding habit that he lost control.

His hands closed about her tiny waist and he lifted her against him for a kiss.

“Oh dear heaven, don’t kiss me—once we start, we can never stop,” she breathed.

Holding her in his arms brought such a heady sensation, Mark Hardwick couldn’t have stopped if he’d wanted to. When he held her in the night, she had been genuinely terrified and his protective feelings had outweighed his desire. Now, however, Diana wasn’t afraid of anything unless it was the intensity of her reaction to him.

His mouth on hers was hard, demanding, and she responded hungrily as if she were starving.
Don’t stop—don’t ever stop,
her brain cried out.

One kiss was not enough. His lips brushed her eyelids, temples, cheekbones, then slanted against her mouth once more, forcing her lips open to accept him inside her. Her tongue played with his deliciously, endlessly, until he mastered her and she yielded willingly, generously.

They kissed until they were both panting, kissed until their need for each other was ravenous. He picked her up, and her arms slid about his neck and clung possessively. Her smallness excited him, as did her passionate surrender. She would hold nothing back—she would allow him to be as wild and dominant as he pleased, endlessly taking from her, as she endlessly yielded.

Diana moaned softly as his powerful hands roamed her curves, remembering, remembering.

With his mouth still possessing hers, he carried her
down the hall to his own chamber and kicked the door closed behind them, shutting out the world.

Diana was in a frenzy to see him naked, to run her hands over the slabs of muscle in his chest, to feel the hot slide of naked male skin against her soft flesh. She knew Marcus’ body completely; Mark’s not at all. They felt the same, but she needed to see him, to taste him, to explore to the full his powerful maleness.

Her fingers were on the buttons of his shirt but his impatient hand brushed them away. He stood her on the bed while he tore off the shirt and flung it away. Her eyes widened as she saw the gold half-coin gleaming against the dark expanse of his muscled chest. Her fingers trembled as she lifted it.

“Mark, your Caesar coin! Marcus always wore it!”

The pupils of his eyes dilated with need. He would put his indelible stamp upon her to obliterate all thought of Marcus. He reached for her, but she stayed his hands.

“Where did you get the coin?”

“I’ve always had it,” he said thickly. Again his hands reached out for her. His powerful fingers splayed beneath her breasts and he dipped his head to devour her.

“Wait! Wait! I have something to show you.”

He closed his eyes and groaned. The last thing on earth he wanted to do was wait. Because she held him off, his hands fell to the waistband of his riding breeches and he stripped them from his body.

Diana’s eyes filled with love. Naked, without his modern clothes, Mark was Marcus. She hadn’t lost him, he was here for the taking. It was up to her to make him remember. Diana smiled a secret smile. She would have to ensnare him. Mark Hardwick was compulsive about his freedom. He would be easy to seduce; almost impossible to marry. In that moment, Diana made up her mind to have him. There was no way in heaven or hell she was going to lose him a second time!

Slowly, with tantalizing fingers she unfastened the corset
and stepped from the scarlet lace. His black eyes smoldered as they traveled from her creamy breasts to the golden curls of her high mons. Around her slim waist she wore a gold chain that added a most erotic touch to her nakedness. She slipped her fingers beneath the half-coin and lifted it.

“This is the other half of Caesar. We fit together perfectly.”

She had his attention now. She unfastened the clasp and put the other half of his priceless gold coin in his hands. Mark lifted it to his own half-coin. When he saw the two halves fit together to form a perfect Julius Caesar, he sat down upon the bed stunned.

“I’ve been searching all my life for this. It’s probably the reason I have a passion for archaeology and Roman artifacts. I’ve had my half-coin since my earliest memory. I assumed it came from a great-grandfather. How did you get yours?”

Diana knelt down on the bed beside him. A faint blush dusted her cheeks as she remembered. “The coin was whole when Marcus wore it. After the first night we spent together, he took it off and placed it about my neck so I could have it all day to remember him, while we were apart.”

“After he made love to you?”

Her lashes fanned her cheeks. “No. The first night he wanted to keep me virgin longer.”

“He must have been mad,” Mark said hoarsely.

“After that, whenever we made love, we passed it to the other, taking turns wearing it. The Caesar coin medallion was precious to him. When he asked me to marry him, he gifted me with half of it, to wear forever.”

Mark fastened the tiny clasp and lifted the chain over her head. The half-coin dipped into the deep valley between her breasts.

“Do you believe now that you were once Marcus?”

“I’m beginning to,” he admitted in a voice that
sounded like black velvet. He reached out a calloused fingertip to trace the swell of her breast. Diana shuddered. “I don’t think I have the willpower to keep you virgin any longer.”

“But I’m not virgin. You made love to me every night,” Diana whispered.

He cupped her shoulders with gentle hands and pressed her back upon the bed. She yielded, doing whatever he wished to do. Their eyes met and held as Mark trailed the back of his fingers along the inside of her silken thigh. She did not resist his touch, but rather welcomed it as her thighs fell open to aid his searching quest.

As he ran his fingers through the gilt tendrils, she arched her mons in pleasure. His touch was hypnotic. Again she marveled that such large, powerful hands could be so tender when they caressed her female flesh.

One finger only stroked her cleft; a drop of woman’s mist formed instantly, luring him on, easing his way. One finger only circled and separated her pink petals. One finger only slid up inside her.

Diana wet her top lip with the tip of her tongue. His black eyes followed its glistening trail. She wanted his fingers inside her, she wanted his tongue inside her, she wanted him to sheath his great gladius sword. She was drowning in need and he was obviously in a mood to draw out their loveplay until she was on the edge of madness. She swallowed hard, her throat aching with desire. It had to be just the way he wanted it this first time. How else could she enslave him?

She reached for his other hand, dropped a kiss upon it, then took one finger only and dipped it into her mouth. She began to suck upon him seductively and Mark felt the erotic sensation all the way to the tip of his marble-hard erection.

Diana was scalding hot and tight upon the finger of his other hand. When he imagined what she would feel like on his shaft, it began to pulse and buck of its own volition.

The problem was, he could clearly feel the barrier of
her hymen pressing back against his fìnger. He withdrew it slowly and made a decision. He would not tell her she was still virgin. She believed otherwise. She had an innate female sensuality that had nothing to do with age, and she was eager for his lovemaking. He did not want to see fear in her eyes. He wanted to see her pleasure, he wanted to feel her passion, he wanted to fulfill her every expectation of her woman’s sexuality.

He simply could not resist what he did next. He went down on his knees, dipped his head between her thighs, and began to make exquisite love to her with his mouth and tongue.

Diana, with half-closed eyes, looked down at the beloved dark head between her thighs. He still made love in exactly the same way, thank God. She arched her mons into his mouth, raked her fingers through his black hair, and pressed him closer to show him how much blissful pleasure he was gifting her with.

She peaked in an amazingly short time, but Diana needed more, much more. She needed to feel his weight upon her, needed him to fill the emptiness inside her, needed the complete domination and submission of lovers who mated for life.

Mark moved up onto the bed. As he stretched out beside her, the disparity in their size was emphasized. The backs of his fingers brushed her cheek. “You are utterly lovely,” he murmured softly, curbing his fierce lust so he could savor her as she deserved.

His fingers threaded into her golden mass of hair that crackled at his touch. He wanted to wrap himself in the silken tendrils, he wanted to bury himself inside her. He had never felt so greedy in his life. He wanted everything. He pictured taking her in every position known to man and then some, but not this first time, his inner voice cautioned. She was small and delicate, and he knew she would experience pain when he deflowered her.

Mark could not resist her lips for long. He moved over
her possessively, his mouth making love to hers endlessly. They began softly, sweetly, then progressed to sensual kisses, arousing kisses that spurred them on to wild, fierce, and savage kisses, until her lips were love-swollen. Then he began the cycle all over again, softly brushing her lips with his until she was writhing with need. Only then did his mouth move down her throat, trailing a hot path to her aching breasts.

Diana reached down and closed her hand around his sex. Dear God, she had forgotten how enlarged he became in their loveplay. When she clasped him tightly with the fingers of both hands, Mark knew he could delay no longer or he would spend.

“Wrap yourself around me,” he urged hoarsely.

Diana needed no instruction. Her long legs slithered high about his back as he thrust deeply. A short scream burst from her throat. Mark went still to allow her to get used to him. The pain was so sharp, it was unendurable, but it was over in seconds, replaced by a fullness that stretched her to the limit.

Diana slowly realized her fingernails were digging into his shoulders, and then he was moving with long, slow thrusts, then gliding faster, building one exquisite sensation after another. Her hands caressed his shoulders now, as he whispered love words she’d never heard before. His hot whispers aroused her until her whole body was atremble. She arched against him once, twice, three times, and then she climaxed.

As her pulsations began to recede, he cried out harshly and she felt his white-hot seed pour into her. At that moment, she experienced something that had never happened to her before. She climaxed again, hard and fast and hot.

They clung to each other possessively, not wanting to separate. He rolled his weight from her, but took her with him so that she lay sprawled upon his body. He was still impaled in her voluptuous splendor. It was what both of them wanted. They were oblivious to the outside world.
This night belonged to them. Though darkness had not yet fallen, they would stay abed until dawn.

It was fortuitous that Peter spent the night in a gaming hell with his profligate friend Barrymore, and Prudence and Richard were forced to put up at an inn twenty miles from Bath because of a heavy deluge of rain that made visibility impossible once night had fallen.

The weather took its toll on Prudence’s patience. When she learned that only one room in the inn was available, with one double bed, she became downright sullen and vindictive.

Richard left her to her own devices while he went to the taproom in search of an amenable wench. His quest was unsuccessful and he returned within the hour. Now both of them were sullen and vindictive.

“That wretched niece of yours was visited upon me like a biblical plague of locusts.”

“That wretched niece of mine has made it possible for you to live in Grosvenor Square. Her money allows you to live in the lap of luxury!” Richard retorted.

“Well, if you had amounted to more than a starving solicitor, we could live off your money!”

“You are a bitch, Prudence, and the poorest fuck I ever had in my life!”

Prudence gasped. She was struck dumb that a man would sink so low as to use obscenity to a respectable wife.

“Why the hell I stay with you is beyond me. I should have divorced you long ago!”

Prudence stiffened. Dear God, the scandal of divorce would kill her. “You wouldn’t dare! I know too much about your shady dealings. You’d bilk your own grandmother if you had the chance!”

Richard smiled. It was not a pretty sight. “And you, my dearest Prudence, would help me spend her money. We
are two of a kind, and in this together whether we like it or not. I suggest we find a way to rub along together.”

He eyed her opulent breasts. “Get into bed, lie down, and above all, shut up,” he ordered.

With stiff fingers, Prudence snuffed the candles and began to remove her layers of clothing. Men were beasts and sooner or later demanded their marital rights. Submitting to Richard’s disgusting fumbling in the dark was far less traumatic than facing the world as a divorced woman in broad daylight.

After a horrible two days on the road, they arrived in Bath, where they decided to rent a house of their own rather than be obligated to the hospitality of the Hardwicks. It was afternoon before they arrived at the earl’s magnificent Elizabethan hall in the midst of its own parkland.

As she stepped from the carriage, Prudence’s lips narrowed at the thought that someday this would probably belong to Diana if she married Peter Hardwick. Still, that would keep her away from the house in Grosvenor Square —the house that Prudence had come to think of as hers.