When the Duke Returns (24 page)

“Isidore,” he growled. There wasn't a bit of control in his eyes, or his hands, or the way he was holding her hard, at the hips. She arched toward him, loving it. He lowered his head to her breast and she started to whimper, almost to scream, except he was—

It felt different this time. She felt softer, welcoming, wetter. The largeness that had felt intrusive earlier felt delicious. She gasped and instinctively tightened around him.

“Don't ask me to stop,” he said, and the catch in his voice filled her with joy.

“Don't stop,” she cried. “Don't…”

He thrust forward, and again, again, again, until she started to give little screams every time. His eyes flared and he smothered her pants with the taste and the shape of his mouth. She thought he was going to stop, but he didn't, he kept going, and going. Every stroke made the fire burn higher until she was breathing as hard as he was, moving with his body as if they were one.

Finally she tore her mouth away from his and flew free, shuddering against him, crying out and as if Simeon had waited for her, he surged forward, desperate, violent, free…

Then they sank together back onto the bed. It was different, it was all different. They were two bodies, and yet one body.

He rolled them to their sides. She slid her arm around him, still trembling a little, and didn't say a word.

When a man like Simeon lost every vestige of restraint, it wasn't ladylike to show exuberance.

The Dower House
March 4, 1784
The next evening

“Y
ou see, Princess Ayabdar is an extraordinary woman. She is the granddaughter both of the empress and of Ras Michael. And she married Powussen, the Governor of Begemder. I had the privilege of spending quite a good deal of time with her.”

“Why did you do that?” Isidore asked suspiciously.

“Because I was appointed a royal magician.”

“
What?
”

“I demonstrated that I could break through three shields with a mere tallow candle.”

“How did you do that?

“I loaded my gun with powder and a farthing candle
and it went through three leather shields. And I had a magic weapon.”

“Which was?”

“My virginity.” He laughed at the look on her face.

“And here I thought you were saving it just for me.”

“Virginity is a very useful thing. The fact that I was a virgin, attested to by my men, and more seriously, by a court magician who read it in my palm, meant that I was allowed to converse with the princess.”

Isidore snorted. “How many other virgins did she have speaking to her?”

Simeon leaned over and nipped her lip. “I was the only one. There are few grown men who can claim the status.”

“Who would know? I've never met anyone who announced it as freely as you do.”

“I had my palm read on entering the Court, and the court magician shrieked it aloud for all to hear.”

“Were you embarrassed?”

He shrugged a little.

Isidore nodded. “I would have been humiliated too, were I you. It was becoming embarrassing to be a virgin wife at twenty-three. You can't imagine how many men thought that was a tragedy.”

“Yes, I can.”

“I was starting to think that I'd never make love.”

“There were days when I thought I couldn't bear it any longer,” he confessed. “Instead of a lion, some poor woman would find me leaping out at her from behind a bush.”

Isidore started giggling. “But it turned you into a magician. Did you think about bedding this princess?”

“You couldn't
not
think about it,” he said, a little smile curling his lips. “She is so utterly brilliant: she can speak five or six languages, and quote Hindu poetry for hours.”

Isidore decided she didn't like the princess. “Hindu? But she's Abyssinian.”

“She has sent men to India to bring poetry back, which she translates, preserving it for the pleasure of her people and their culture.”

“Admirable,” Isidore said. She forced herself to relax. The princess was back there in the sand somewhere, living in a hut. She could afford to be generous.

“And her palace,” Simeon said dreamily. “You can hardly imagine, Isidore. It's made entirely of pink marble, and it looks over the banks of a huge rain plain. Sometimes the plain fills with white flowers, thousands and thousands of them. If there's rain, the plain forms a great blue mirror to the sky.”

“That sounds lovely,” Isidore said, despite herself.

“I've never met a woman more intelligent. We argued for hours. She managed to change my mind about several ideas.”

Clearly, to Simeon, changing his mind was practically an unheard-of experience. Isidore sighed and changed the subject. “I am curved in all the places where you are straight,” she said, caressing the line of Simeon's hip. Their arms brushed for a moment as he reached out to touch her as well.

“I can't stop touching you,” he said. “I can't stop thinking of you. The idea of returning to Revels House is inconceivable.”

Isidore laughed and rolled on her back. “Now that the odor is gone I feel much more inclined to consider the possibility. But meanwhile…”

He accepted her invitation, of course.

 

It was an hour later. The sheets were rumpled, and Isidore was sweaty in places she'd never considered before, like the backs of her knees. If she lay absolutely still,
she could feel tiny quivers in the sweetest parts of her body. She felt like the air did after her aunt put down her violin, as if it were still singing, but in silence.

“Do you suppose it's like this for everyone?” she asked.

“The poets sing of it,” Simeon said lazily. He was lying on his back, one hand over his head, the other on her hip. “There's an ancient Sufi poet named Rumi…he spoke of desire as a sickness bringing joy.”

“But this pleasure,” Isidore said. “If it always feels this pleasurable, why don't people do it all the time?”

Simeon stretched. “I think we waited so long that we were like volcanoes waiting to explode. I know that sometimes bedding can be very, very unpleasant,” Simeon said, turning over to face her. “We're lucky, you and I. Sometimes people just don't fit, as I understand it. There can be discomfort. Or one person might not find the other attractive.” His sleepy smile said that wasn't a problem for him.

It wasn't a problem for Isidore either. Sometimes it felt as if her heart opened up when they made love. Love…

“But do you think it feels like this if the people aren't married?” she asked, unable to bring the word
love
to her lips. Did she love him?

He laughed at that and she wrinkled her nose at him. “You are asking whether a wedding certificate increases pleasure?”

“Stupid of me,” she said.

Yet she felt somewhere deep inside her that he was missing the point. Though she wasn't sure what the point was.

“We do need to talk seriously, Isidore,” he said.

“Hmmm?”

“We have to have a plan.”

“A plan?”

“A plan for our marriage. Neither of us is precisely what the other envisioned as a spouse. We'll simply have to try to change. As much as we can. That way we won't find ourselves at odds. So if I hadn't been me, if you were able to pick any man in the
ton,
what kind of person would you like him to be?”

She giggled. “Red-haired?”

“Seriously.”

“Must we be serious?” she moaned. “It's far into the middle of the night. I'm tired.”

“We can sleep late in the morning. No one will dare wake us. It's important, Isidore.”

She tried to pull herself together. “Seriously? What sort of man would I have chosen?”

“I suppose the more proper question is how would he have differed from me?”

She hesitated.

“Isidore,” he said patiently. “I'm not a fool. I'm the man you've got and I just made you very happy. I'm not going to feel insulted if you wish I wore a cravat more frequently.”

“Well, now that you mention it…”

“But not a wig,” he said, alarmed. “I'm not sure I could tolerate a wig.”

“How about a little powder for important occasions?”

“Such as going to Court?”

“More than going to Court. Balls in London. Places where your head would be the only unpowdered one in the crowd.”

“Just not a wig. I cannot wear those little rolls of snails over my ears. But I can powder. What else, Isidore?”

“Could you look a bit more respectable?” She grinned at him. “You are
mine
, which means that not all the ladies get to enjoy the image of you naked.”

“I like that,” he said with a slow smile.

“I'd rather they didn't have quite such a chance to see your legs in those short trousers of yours.”

He looked alarmed. “I can't stop running, Isidore. It's part of who I am.”

“Perhaps in longer trousers?”

He nodded. “What else?”

“I can't really think of anything,” Isidore said. The most delicious languor was stealing over her.

“I haven't told you my wishes for marriage yet.”

Sleep was like a gorgeous warm blanket, hovering at the edge of her vision. “Um…” she said. “Whatever you want.”

“That's it,” he said.

“What?”

“You said what I want.”

“I did?” Isidore struggled to wake up enough to remember what she just said.

“You said, whatever you want.”

“Umph.”

Simeon pulled himself to a seated position. “I had a great deal of time over the past years to analyze marriage. That's really why I thought we should probably annul our marriage, Isidore: we don't suit the pattern of successful spouses.”

“We don't? Didn't you tell me this before?” she said sleepily.

“Would you describe yourself as docile and meek in every way?”

She snorted.

“Biddable and likely to listen calmly to good advice?”

“Yes to the second part, no to the first.” But he was obviously going down the mental list he had been cherishing for years.

“Willing to allow your husband to command you on occasion?”

“Sometimes…” she said.

He eyed her.

“In bed?” she offered hopefully.

“What about if you're in danger?”

“Ah.”

“I'm worried that unless we have a system of command set up, such as I had with my men, this marriage will founder or, worse, in a moment of crisis, I won't be able to save us.”

“But Simeon, there aren't moments of crisis in England,” she said painstakingly. “The things you likely envision—attacks by lions, sandstorms, marauding tribes—they simply do not happen here in England.”

“The Dead Watch had a remarkable resemblance to a mangy pack of starving lions.”

Isidore nodded. “If I encounter the Dead Watch again, or if there is an attack by a marauding lion, I promise that I will accept your commands.”

He smiled. “We have to know where the ultimate authority lies.”

Isidore didn't like the sound of that. “If it's not a moment of immediate physical danger, I would most biddably listen to the reasons behind the advice you're offering.”

It was his turn to scowl. “I have to know that you're mine, Isidore.”

“I am. According to English law, I am one of your possessions, just like a cow or a privy house.”

“You see? You don't really accept it.”

“Well, I can hardly change the entire system of gov
ernment in England. I've always known that once you came home I would have a husband.”

“It's important,” he said earnestly. “I have to know you respect my opinions, that you'll obey me without a moment's thought. Otherwise our marriage will never work.”

She shook her head. “What if you said,
pour that cup of coffee over my hand
—and it was burning hot?”

“Why would I want coffee poured over my hand?” He had a typically male, confused look on his face.

“It's just an illustration.”

“Pour it,” he said decisively. “If I say such a thing, it means I've lost my mind and returned to my second infancy. You'll have to teach me the way we teach children, by example.”

She sighed. “What if you command me to do something that I consider truly foolish? What if there is an obviously better way to handle the given situation?”

“Why would I do that?'”

She resisted the temptation to say,
Because you're not God Almighty!
And said, “Let's just pretend that the situation arose.”

“Sometimes I make mistakes,” he said, surprising her. “There was a time when I bought a vast number of red and green flowered beads to trade. I thought they were far more beautiful than the small sky-blue ones that the merchant in Jidda told me to buy. I thought he was trying to trick me. Once we had hauled those beads far into the deserts of Abyssinia, they were rejected by everyone.”

“Why on earth did you bring beads with you?”

“They were much easier than carrying food or water,” he explained. “I always carried a quantity of beads.”

“Why not money?”

“Money is local to a given district. But the female
desire for beautiful things…universal.” He grinned at her.

“So where are my sky-blue beads?” she said, giggling.

He rolled over on top of her. “So will you listen to me if there's a dangerous situation?”

She looked up at him. “Not if you're choosing the wrong kind of beads. But I don't mind obeying you if you're right.”

“Someone has to be the
capo,
to put it in Italian, or our marriage will be like a failed expedition. It will fall apart.”

Isidore stopped herself from rolling her eyes. It was as if Simeon was haunted by the memory of wild beasts jumping at him. It might take a few years, but he would come to learn that the English countryside held no dangers she could think of. “In cases of danger…”

“What if we had a signal between us, and when I included the signal in something I said, then you obeyed me without a second thought?”

She nodded. “As long as you didn't abuse your privilege.”

He was braced over her, on his elbows, his lips deliciously close to hers. Who could have thought that a large male body lying on top of hers could feel so good, against all reason?

He leaned down and brushed his lips with hers. “If I say,
now,
Isidore, you have to obey.”

“You say
now
a hundred times a day,” she said.

“You would know the difference if I really meant it.”

“Danger,” she prompted him. “Danger, remember? I might not be listening all that closely to your tone of voice.”

She gave a little wiggle to remind him about the other things he was getting with this marriage along with a
bad-tempered Italian wife. Sure enough, his eyes glazed a little.

“How about something in a foreign language?” she suggested.

His face cleared. “If I say,
As your Baalomaal
, Isidore, then you obey me without question.”

“And what does
Baalomaal
mean?” she asked suspiciously.