Virginia Henley (39 page)

“No, but you must grab them. I’m off to Madame Madeleine’s. Do you remember the costume of Goddess Diana I was wearing the first night we met?”

He rolled his eyes heavenward. “How could I forget?”

“We’ll dine in the Roman style tonight.”

He laughed. “I refuse to wear a toga.”

She went up on tiptoe and whispered in his ear, “Just bring your flagellum.”

He was reluctant to let her go off on her own, but knew he must overcome his apprehension. Diana needed complete freedom at the moment.

The Earl of Bath only bought the couches on the condition they be delivered immediately. When Dearden offered him congratulations on his marriage, Mark knew it wouldn’t be long before the news spread to everyone in town.

“Lady Diana, how lovely to see you again,” Madame Madeleine enthused, avid for a snippet of gossip about the girl who had disappeared into thin air, then reappeared so strangely.

“How lovely that you remember me,” Diana said with a straight face.

“How could I ever forget that you won the battle over the jade velvet gown?”

Diana smiled. “Not only did I get the gown, but I ended up with the earl as well.” She held up her hand to display her new wedding ring.

“Oh, your ladyship, how may I be of service?”

“Well, you do such lovely work; how would you like to create some rather unconventional garments for me?”

Mark and Diana decided to turn the dressing room adjoining their bedchamber into their own private dining room. Mr. Burke carried up a small table, which he set between the couches, then searched the other rooms for the reclining and elbow cushions Diana described. When Mark was out of earshot, she confided in Mr. Burke. “The costume I intend to wear is rather revealing. Would you mind terribly if I asked Nora to serve dinner tonight?”

“Not at all, your ladyship. Just remember she has more gaul than grace.”

Diana took her boxes from Madame Madeleine’s down to the peach-colored chamber so that Mark wouldn’t see what she planned to wear.

He fully expected to see her in the short, white tunic of the Roman goddess, Diana, and decided simply to wear his black velvet bedrobe since the dinner was to be a most intimate affair. To make her laugh, he carried a whip that resembled a flagellum. When he opened the adjoining door that led from their bedchamber, Diana was there ahead of him, posed upon her dining couch.

His black eyes widened with shock as they swept over
her reclining figure with one impudent breast fully exposed. She was as composed as only a woman who was sure of her beauty could be. While his body reacted in a most pronounced manner, the earl wasn’t sure he wanted his wife to display herself in such a bold and wanton fashion.

He strode toward her without hesitation. When Diana saw the disapproval writ plainly on his dark visage, she lifted her arms and her lips for the kiss of greeting. He towered above her without touching her. “I’m not sure a countess should—”

She serenely lifted her lips to within an inch of his and said, “Don’t think of me as your countess, think of me as your slave.”

He groaned and covered her mouth hungrily. He pulled his mouth away. “You’ve done this before.”

“Mmmm,” she responded sensually.

He thrust his angry tongue into her hot, inviting mouth and felt his anger melting away. His cock stood up like a ramrod, lifting the black velvet.

Diana took the flagellum from his fingers. “You don’t need two weapons.”

His eyes were smoldering now as he reached out his hand to fondle her breast.

“No! Behave yourself and go to your own couch. I’ll join you for dessert.”

At that moment, Nora came in with the dinner and Mark helped her take the platters from the tray and place them on the small serving table, placing himself between the servant and Diana. He was much too modest to let Nora see her lady in this state of undress! “We’ll serve ourselves. That will be all, thank you, Nora.” Mark went to his own dining couch.

“Come over here,” he commanded.

“No! I told you I would join you for dessert.”

“If you are my slave, you had better learn to obey my orders.” His voice held a tone of total authority. “Come over and show me how to place these cushions.”

She went slowly, never taking her eyes from his. “Recline upon your side.” She placed the large cushion at his back. “Now tuck this small cushion beneath your elbow.”

She stood beside his couch, nervously running her hands along the handle of the whip she had taken from him. A shaft of desire pierced his loins as he watched her fondle the flagellum. He undid the tie on his robe so that the black velvet fell open to reveal his naked splendor.

“Pleasure me,” he commanded.

In that moment he was so darkly dominant Diana was almost regretful that she was not his slave. He made her weak with desire. But both knew they were only playing a love game.

She moved her hand up and down the phallic handle with mock innocence. “You are very demanding,” she said softly.

“I am a man. I give the orders, you obey them.”

Both were becoming aroused without even touching the other. Beneath the banter was a note of total authority that made her want to behave shamelessly with him. She trailed the leather thongs of the flagellum across one flat, bronzed nipple, moved it slowly down his ribcage and across his taut belly. When she gave his erection a tap on the head, he snatched it from her roughly.

Her lashes swept her cheeks, all contrite. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, and slid to her knees beside his couch. She bestowed a kiss upon the carmine crown of his jutting manhood, heard the intake of his ragged breath, then with the tip of her wet tongue delicately traced every inch of him.

When he opened his eyes, she had retreated to her own couch. She gave him a sultry look that promised him paradise. “That was just an aperitif until we get to the main course.”

“Little vixen,” he growled. “If you have a taste for teasing games, I shall give you a few lessons.”

The following morning saw them again racing across the fields. When Diana lost once more, Mark grinned at her and said, “I intend to mount you better this afternoon.”

“Surely you couldn’t improve on last night’s mounting?” she drawled outrageously.

“I can always try,” he said, winking. “You know what I mean. We’ll go shopping for a mare for you this afternoon.”

“Why can’t I have a stallion?”

“You can have anything you desire, but I’d prefer to be the only male in your life, and a mare would make Trajan exceedingly happy.”

“Your stallion in Aquae Sulis was named Trajan.”

Mark smiled into her eyes. “Coincidence doesn’t quite explain it, does it my love?”

He took her to a breeding farm at Avebury and let her have her pick. Diana chose a young mare with a blond mane that rivaled her own. “Do you think she’s too young to breed?” she asked her husband.

Suddenly, Mark wasn’t thinking of horses at all. He was overcome with the fierce desire to plant his own seed in his beautiful young wife. “I think she’s absolutely perfect.” He hugged her to his side and dropped a quick kiss on her golden head.

They didn’t arrive home until twilight, where Mr. Burke awaited them with news they had been expecting. While they were at Avebury, Richard Davenport had delivered a legal paper he had filed with the courts to have his niece’s marriage annulled on the grounds that written consent had not been obtained from her guardian. The case would come to court at the Easter Assizes, four days before Diana turned eighteen.

She tried not to show how upset she was, but Mark knew her too intimately not to feel her distress.

“It’s a damn good thing I wasn’t here,” he cursed. “I would have set the dogs on him.”

Diana was thankful her husband had not been at home, for she knew he was capable of much more than setting the dogs on her uncle.

In bed she clung to him, needing his strength to face not only the scandal of annulment, but the reality of it. She had hoped Richard and Prudence would let well enough alone, after what they had done to her. She had hoped that once she was married to the Earl of Bath, they would let it stand and gracefully accept the fait accompli. How naive she was.

“What will we do?” she whispered desperately.

“My sweetheart, once the annulment is granted, I shall simply take you where they cannot find you until your birthday.”

She wanted to ask
and then?
but she couldn’t. He had not suggested that the day she turn eighteen, they marry again. Diana was fully aware that it was only a temporary arrangement. Her hand briefly caressed her belly. If she told him of the child, she had little doubt that he would offer remarriage to protect her. But she desperately wanted him to marry her from choice, rather than necessity. How perfect it would be if he didn’t feel compelled.

She sighed, wishing things were otherwise. Then she turned her face into the hollow of his throat. She knew how precious his freedom was to him. And it really didn’t matter, so long as he loved her. Hadn’t she decided that love was infinitely more important than marriage?

To Mark, the thing of paramount importance was for Diana to be in charge of her own inheritance. Once her guardians were no longer holding the pursestrings, she would be able to slap them with all sorts of lawsuits, but not until she was of age. He did not want to do anything
that would jeopardize her legal rights. All they had to do was exercise patience for another fortnight.

As he lay contemplating their situation, he stroked her hair and her back, both as smooth as satin. The problem of the annulment was a little more complicated. When the king introduced the Marriage Act to keep Prinny in line, the age of consent to marry became twenty-one. That was a distant three years away, and though Diana might be content simply to live together, Mark was not. For the first time in his life he wanted a wife, he wanted children, and he wanted them legitimate.

What it all boiled down to was, even when she became financially independent, Diana would still need Richard’s consent to marry. The Earl of Bath’s face turned hard. He would force Davenport to consent, he decided ruthlessly.

Diana stirred restlessly. She needed something to divert her. “I’ve been thinking that we need a private bathing pool. You can help me draw up some plans.”

“Indoor or outdoor?”

“Well, if it were outdoors, we wouldn’t be able to use it year-round. How about inside a glass conservatory with trees and plants?”

“It sounds divine.”

“I can swim, you know.”

“That’s something I’d love to see.”

“Let’s go to King’s Bath tomorrow,” she suggested. “I can’t wait to see you in those canvass trousers.”

When they arrived at King’s Bath the next afternoon, Diana was surprised at how quiet the usually bustling Stawles Street was.

“I’ll see you inside,” Mark said as they separated so that he could enter on the men’s side and Diana could go to the ladies’ dressing room.

There was only one female attendant, to her surprise.
“I can’t believe how quiet it is today; the baths are almost deserted.”

As the bath lady helped her into the high-waisted, brown linen dress, she said, “Didn’t you know? The Earl of Bath has rented it for a private swimming party today. The galleries are closed so that spectators won’t be able to observe you.”

When Diana went through to the bath, Mark was cutting through the water, naked as the day he was born.

“You devil! I wanted to laugh at your canvass drawers, but it appears I’m the figure of fun here.”

“There’s none here but us. Are you daring enough to disrobe?” he challenged.

“Bathing nude isn’t a novelty to me,” she assured him with
hauteur.
But only when she had scanned the galleries to make sure her display was for his eyes only did she unfasten and remove the respectable linen gown. She slipped into the warm water to show him that she could swim. “This is the breaststroke,” she informed him.

“It certainly is,” he agreed, watching her porcelain globes float on the water’s surface.

They played and teased for over an hour, but Mark kept a protective eye on her. She was no longer pale, and she certainly wasn’t timid, but she still looked unbelievably fragile to him. He swam underwater and brought his body up against hers as he surfaced. She slipped her arms about his neck and lifted her mouth for his kiss. Suddenly their laughter fell away and they became serious. “Let’s go home,” he whispered.

When they arrived, Diana was overjoyed to see that a large box had been delivered from Madame Madeleine’s. She rushed upstairs with it and called over her shoulder, “We’ll use the private dining room tonight.”

Mr. Burke remarked to the earl, “With Lady Diana at Hardwick Hall, there’s never a dull moment, sir. I suppose you’ll want Nora to serve?”

“The countess is so unconventional, I think that would be safest.”

Diana was putting the finishing touches to her cascading curls when Nora came in search of her. She stopped, aghast, in the doorway of the peach-colored chamber. “You cannot wear that, your ladyship.”

Diana had fastened her gold chain about her waist and the crimson loin dress about her hips. “Why not?” Diana asked, amused.

“Well, I have liberal ideas, being French, but this is too shocking.”

Diana smiled her secret smile. “It may shock a Frenchman, but not a Roman. Were you able to find me that incense burner?”

“I put it in the dining room.”

“In Aquae Sulis it was called the triclinium.”

“Is that where they held their orgies?” Nora whispered, knowing Diana was an avid student of Roman history.

“Among other places,” she confirmed.

Diana had decided that this was the night Mark would ask her to remarry him, once their present marriage was annulled. She was determined to overcome his obsession with freedom.

Hoping to shock and surprise Diana, Mark came to dinner wearing only a towel. When he came through the adjoining door from their bedchamber, Diana was putting a lighted taper to the incense. His eyes licked over her curves displayed so erotically in the crimson loin dress. “Two minds with but a single thought,” he said huskily.

“This is a Roman custom. Frankincense is an aromatic to recall records of the soul.”

His nostrils flared. She was lovelier than any goddess. What had he done to deserve this gift from the gods?

When Nora came in with dessert, they didn’t even see
her. They were curled together on one dining couch, feeding each other with their fingers. She left the sweets and fruit and departed.

As Diana licked his fingers, he murmured softly, “What fruit would you like—passion fruit?”

“I’m particularly partial to plums,” she murmured, slipping her hand beneath his towel and rolling his testes together shamelessly.

“What else are you partial to? Let me fulfill all your desires.” He picked her up and carried her into their bedchamber, leaving the towel and the loin dress draped over the dining couch.

“Tantra.”

“Tantra?” He had no idea what it was, but it sounded almost forbidden, the sultry way she suggested it. “Show me.”

“Not on the bed, on the floor. I sit in your lap, face to face, so every part of our bodies receives pleasure. Your slow, sensual thrusting must stop on the brink of climax, so you can begin again … and again.”

Mark was lost. He sank to the rug and pulled her into his lap.

Two hours later when she was soft with surfeit, he kissed her hair and whispered, “What would you like for your birthday?”

She held her breath, hoping he would offer her a permanent marriage. The silence was like black velvet. Finally, she whispered, “Guess.”

He searched his mind, but he was too full of her; too love-drunk to think coherently. “Rubies, diamonds?”

She stiffened in his arms, then deliberately climbed off his semihard erection. “You are a damned devil! You know what I want more than anything in the world, but your bloody freedom is too precious to you!”

His black brows drew together to warn her of an impending storm. “I’ll give you anything; what the hell is it you want?”

“You’re so bloody clever, figure it out for yourself!” She departed their bedchamber unmindful of her nudity.

Mark stared angrily at the door she slammed. How could she be so loving one moment, and like a spitting vixen the next?
Bloody women!
This was the thanks he got for lavishing his attention upon her. She was a spoiled little bitch, and if she wanted to sleep alone, he would let her!

They didn’t speak for two days, but each of them paid a price in loneliness and misery. On the third day he went into town without her, then closeted himself in the library upon his return. Diana was ready to beg his forgiveness. She knew his towering pride would never allow a man such as Mark to beg for anything, and of course that was exactly the way she wanted him.

At dinner she asked for a tray and carried it to her own room, wishing she had an excuse to go to him. There on her pillow sat a velvet box. She opened it, excited as a child at Christmas. It was a silver torque, encrusted with brilliant blue lapis. She ran lightly down the curved staircase, then opened the library door without knocking. He was addressing a stack of envelopes, but covered what he was doing when he saw her.

She held up the velvet box. “Your apology is very beautiful.”

“It isn’t an apology, it’s a peace offering,” he growled. Diana saw the glint of amusement in his dark eyes.

She said lightly, “You see, you knew what I wanted after all.”

He stared at her, then murmured, “It took me a while, but finally I read your mind.”

“Put it on for me.”

“Upstairs.”

“I have food.”

“Let’s eat it in bed.”

Their sexual hunger was blatant, but beneath the lust was a love that knew no depth. Each one’s happiness lay
with the other. Like the two halves of their coin, they were not complete unless they were together.