Читать книгу The Complete Regency Season Collection - Кэрол Мортимер, Кэрол Мортимер - Страница 121
ОглавлениеThe last few yards to where Margaret and Sir Timothy waited were barely sufficient for Lucy to recover from the horror of Mr Cottingham’s words. She could not believe it. Ralph would not do such a thing. But could she be sure? Her own parents had kept from her the truth about their finances and she had never guessed. Even after her father’s death Mama had said nothing, until the truth could be concealed no longer. And if Mama could hide things from her, how much easier, then, for a man she had known barely three weeks? Lucy moved away from Adam Cottingham and fixed herself with Margaret, engaging her in conversation as they walked back through the old ride and the park.
Lucy thought perhaps it was her disordered thoughts that made the remainder of the journey uncomfortably hot, but as they made their way across the gardens to the house she noticed the heavy black cloud bubbling up on the horizon.
‘We shall have a storm soon, I think,’ opined Margaret, following her glance. ‘Good thing, too. Clear the air.’
‘Well, I for one am ready for my dinner,’ declared Lord Wetherell as they all made their way into the house. He took out his watch. ‘And, by Jove, there is barely time to bathe and change. I hope that new-fangled range of yours can cope with supplying so much hot water in one go, Adversane?’
‘Of course it can.’ Sir Timothy laughed, clapping his host on the shoulder. ‘Next thing we know he will have found a way to pump it up to the bedrooms, ain’t that so, my boy?’
‘I am working on it,’ replied Ralph, smiling a little.
The party dispersed, and Lucy felt a hand on her arm.
‘One moment.’ Ralph detained her. ‘You professed an interest in the orrery. Perhaps you would like to come into the library and see it now.’
She swallowed. She would much rather not be alone with Ralph at that moment, but short of running away she had no choice. She followed him to the library.
It was not a room she was familiar with. It was such a large, lofty chamber that until the house party it had been rarely used and she had come in here only to gaze at the thousands of books on display and to choose one of the more popular novels to read. Now she noted that there was a large terrestrial globe beside the desk, and Ralph pointed out to her the odd-shaped lamps positioned on shelves and side tables around the room.
‘Argand lamps,’ he told her. ‘They burn oil, but in a way that makes them ten times as bright as any candle. Excellent for reading in the winter.’
When I will no longer be here.
In just over a week’s time, the end of the month, she would be gone. Life at Adversane would go on as it always had done but she would not be there to share it. Lucy did not know why she found the thought so depressing.
Ralph led her to the far end of the room, where the brass orrery stood in the bay window, gleaming in the light. The delicate brass arms stretched out from the circular base, each one carrying a miniature planet or an even smaller moon fashioned from ivory.
‘It belonged to my father,’ Ralph explained, coming to a halt before it. ‘I have had it brought up to date to include Herschel’s planet with its two moons, and the extra moons around Saturn. It has a fine clockwork mechanism.’ He grinned. ‘When my nephews are here they like nothing better than to wind it up and watch the planets spin around.’
He wound it up now, and Lucy watched, fascinated, as the various planets and moons circled the sun in a slow and stately dance.
‘Why was Cottingham holding your hand at Hobart’s Bridge?’ Ralph asked. ‘What was he saying to you?’
He was telling me that you are obsessed with your late wife and that you hounded her to her death.
Lucy kept her eyes on the spinning globes.
‘Why, nothing. Our conversation became a little animated, that is all.’
He caught her wrist. ‘Was he making love to you?’
‘No! Nothing like that.’
‘Then what?’
She should tell him what Adam had said and allow him to defend himself. She should watch his reaction and judge for herself if it was true, but suddenly Lucy was afraid. She did not want to learn the truth. She tore herself from his grasp, saying coldly, ‘It was nothing that need concern you, my lord.’
‘Lucy!’
She drew herself up and met his challenging gaze steadily.
‘There is nothing in our contract to say I must report to you every conversation I have, sir. That would be quite unacceptable to me.’
‘Your reaction smacks of evasion.’
‘And yours of jealousy,’ she flashed.
His black brows drew together.
‘I beg your pardon,’ she said quietly. ‘I am perfectly aware that it is nothing of the kind, but surely your logical mind must tell you that it is perfectly possible for a lady to engage in an innocent conversation with a gentleman?’
His scowl was put to flight and in its place she saw the gleam of humour in his eyes.
‘So you would fight me with logic, would you?’
Sadness gripped her and she was suddenly close to tears. She said quietly, ‘I would rather not fight you at all, my lord. Now, if you will excuse me, I must change my gown.’
* * *
Ralph watched her leave the room, curbing the urge to call her back, to demand she tell him what his cousin had said to her. He did not want to force her; he would much rather that she trusted him enough to confide everything. Yet how could he expect that when he would confide in no one?
He walked to the window, looking out across the gardens but seeing only Lucy’s distressed face. He wished there was a way to carry out his plan without involving her. He admired her spirit, the dignified way she conducted herself. His sisters liked her, too; that was very clear. He could foresee a stormy time ahead, when Lucy left Adversane. His sisters had made it very plain that they considered Lucy the perfect match for him and would take it very ill when the engagement was terminated.
As would he.
The thought came as a shock. Ralph raked his hands through his hair and exhaled slowly. When had Lucy Halbrook changed from being a mere pawn in his plans and become a person? One with so much more spirit than the dead wife he had hired her to impersonate.
He had married Helene because it was expected of him, because she was beautiful and desirable, but he had known from the start that his heart was untouched. She was so complaisant that he had thought she would make him a comfortable wife, but it had not taken him long to realise the truth, that it was most uncomfortable to be in a loveless marriage, especially to a woman with whom he shared no common interests. And Helene’s truly sweet nature had become a constant barb of guilt. He could give her as much spending money as she desired, but he could not love her, any more than she could care for him. He had resigned himself to the fact that once she had provided him with an heir, they would live separate lives.
Yet, although he had not loved Helene, he considered it his duty to find out the truth about her death and for that he needed Lucy Halbrook. His own desires were secondary. He frowned. What of Lucy’s desires? Despite her avowed dislike of him, Ralph was convinced she was not indifferent. When he had kissed her he had ignited a fire equal to his own. He had recognised it in her response, even if she would not acknowledge it.
Ralph squared his shoulders. Perhaps, when it was over and he knew the truth, he could tell Lucy, but would she want anything to do with him once she knew how he had used her? He doubted it, but it was too late to change course now. Much too late.
* * *
Lucy had no appetite for dinner, but it was impossible for her not to attend. There were no orders as to her attire, but then, she thought despondently, whatever she wore would be styled upon one of Helene’s evening gowns. Ruthie had laid out a rose silk and she put it on, not even bothering to look in the mirror before she went downstairs.
In the drawing room Lucy did her best to avoid both Ralph and Adam Cottingham and was relieved to be sitting between Lord Preston and Sir Timothy when they went into the dining room. Not that either of the gentlemen she was avoiding seemed aware of her efforts. Adam sent her no anxious looks, made no attempt to continue their tête-à-tête. Lucy wondered if he had realised the imprudence of declaring his suspicions to Ralph’s fiancée. Yet if that was the case, Lucy thought he should have tried to make her an apology. As for Ralph, apart from the occasional thoughtful glance in her direction he kept his distance and in such lively company the reserve between them went unnoticed.
After dinner she waited with the other ladies for the gentlemen to join them. To retire early would attract more comment than to sit quietly in the corner. The long windows were thrown wide, but even so there was no breeze to refresh the room and all the ladies seemed a little subdued as they fanned themselves and talked in desultory tones. Lucy stepped outside, watching the sunset and enjoying the slight breeze. She was still there when at last the gentlemen came in.
As the party rearranged itself, Ralph joined Lucy on the terrace.
‘You are very quiet tonight. Is anything amiss?’
She shook her head, but he saw quite clearly that she was not her usual self. The sparkle was gone from her eyes and there was a slight droop to her mouth. Ralph longed to kiss away that troubled look, but he suspected he had put it there by questioning her about Adam Cottingham. Perhaps he should not have done so, but he had felt such a worm of jealousy in his soul when he had seen them together, a feeling so much stronger than anything he had ever felt for his wife.
He was about to try and coax Lucy into a smile when he became aware of the conversation going on in the room behind them. Lady Preston was talking with Judith Cottingham but her high voice carried easily to the terrace.
‘It was quite understandable that Adversane should cancel the play last year.’
‘Mourning, d’you see,’ explained Sir James cheerfully. ‘He was besotted with Helene, of course, but I’m glad to see he’s over it now and back in the world again.’
Damn the man, thought Ralph. Preston had been drinking heavily at dinner, and was now talking far too loud and free.
‘Aye, he’s back,’ Sir James continued, his words slurring a little. ‘And this year’s Midsummer festivities will be an ideal opportunity for Charlotte to become accustomed to society.’
Judith murmured something which drew a laugh from Sir James.
‘Oh, no,’ he said cheerfully. ‘We won’t force her into a marriage, Mrs Cottingham. Are you worried she might make a mull of it, like her sister? No fear of that. Helene was always highly strung, of course, lived on her nerves. There’s no denying Adversane handled her very ill, but Charlotte won’t be driven to such desperate measures as her sister. Made of much sterner stuff. In fact, if only she’d been a few years older she’d have made a much better bride for Adversane.’
Ralph turned, ready to put a stop to the conversation, but his sisters were before him. Margaret called for Sir James to join her at the piano for a duet and Caroline swept everyone into a discussion of what the pair should sing. Glancing back at Lucy, he saw that she was staring at him, her face as white as the trim on her gown. He was almost overwhelmed with an urge to protect her. He wanted to gather her in his arms but with everyone watching them he had to content himself with taking her hand.
‘I wish you had not heard that.’
‘It is not the first time, but to hear Sir James utter it, and so coolly.’
‘The magistrate recorded Helene’s death as an accident.’
‘Naturally, in deference to your standing, but that is not what everyone believes, is it?’
‘No.’
He wanted to tell her what he thought had really happened that night, but what if he was proved wrong? Would those eyes now fixed so anxiously upon him fill with disgust and loathing to think he was merely trying to exonerate himself? When she pulled her hand free he made no attempt to stop her, even though it left him feeling bereft. Caroline came to the window.
‘Lucy, Ralph, do come and join us. You must sing another duet.’
She took their arms, trying to move them inside, but Lucy held back.
‘Not tonight, Caroline, if you please. I—I have a headache.’
‘Oh, poor love.’ His sister was all concern. ‘It is this thundery weather. We will all feel better once there has been a storm.’
‘Yes.’ Lucy’s eyes flickered over him once more, their troubled look piercing his heart. ‘Yes, yes, I think you are right.’
When she excused herself and left the room, Ralph wanted to follow her. He would abandon this charade, do anything to put the smile back in her eyes. Yet how could he? How could he allay her fears, offer her any happiness until he knew the truth himself? And for that he needed to go on with his plan.
The others were calling for him to join them, and he was their host, after all. He forced his thoughts away from Lucy Halbrook. He was paying her well for her part in this charade, there was no need for him to feel concerned for her welfare. But even as he joined his guests he knew that he was fooling himself. Lucy’s happiness had somehow become the most important thing in his life.
* * *
Lucy passed a sleepless night, caused by the stuffiness of the room, she told herself, but she knew it had more to do with Adam’s declaration as they walked back together from Ingleston. The thought that Adversane was still in love with his wife and wanted to recreate her presence made Lucy uneasy, but it was nothing to the revulsion she felt at the idea that he had deliberately caused his wife to end her own life. Lucy was convinced now that they had not been a happy couple but she could not believe Ralph had intended to be cruel. And yet...why did Helene run off to the Rock alone after the play?
She tossed and turned in her bed, Adam’s accusation gnawing at her mind. After all, what did she know of Ralph? She had seen that hard, implacable look in his eyes, guessed he could be ruthless, when he chose, but at that point she sat up in bed, saying aloud to the night air, ‘No. I know he would not do such a thing.’
Not deliberately, perhaps, but his harshness might easily overset a more gentle nature. Unfortunately that was all too easy to believe.
And as she lay down again, another thought, equally unwelcome, returned to haunt her. That he was still in love with Helene—so in love that he could not bear to let her memory go.
* * *
There was no storm that night and by the next morning the heat in the house was oppressive. Lucy rose, heavy eyed and irritable from lack of sleep. There were no orders from Ralph so she chose a fine muslin gown worn over a gossamer-thin petticoat.
Ruthie regarded her doubtfully.
‘Well,’ Lucy demanded, ‘what is it? Why do you look at me in that way?’
‘I never saw my mistress wearing such a gown.’
‘Well, thank goodness for that!’
‘There was a muslin like it in the linen press,’ Ruthie continued. ‘I remember seeing it when Miss Crimplesham and I packed up all my lady’s things. She took them with her when she went back to be lady’s maid to Miss Charlotte.’
‘Well, at least there is something that won’t remind him of her,’ Lucy muttered to herself as she went off to breakfast.
* * *
With the threat of thunder in the air no one wanted to ride out that morning and the guests gave themselves up to less energetic pursuits. Lucy decided to try out her new paint box. She ran upstairs for an apron to protect her gown and took her things to the empty morning room, where the light was good. Byrne brought in the old easel Lord Adversane had found for her, and after suggesting diffidently that she should avoid setting it up on the master’s treasured Aubusson carpet he retreated, and she was left in peace.
The view from the window was very fine, but there was a heaviness in the air that dulled the aspect so she reached for her sketchbook to find a suitable subject. Flicking through the pages, she found herself staring at the craggy likeness of Lord Adversane.
A wry smile tugged at her mouth. No watercolour could do justice to that harsh countenance; it needed the strong lines of pen and ink, or the heavy surety of oils. She moved on and soon found a small sketch she had made of a drift of cotton grass, the delicate tufts standing white against the dark boggy ground. Her hand went to her cheek, feeling again the soft downy touch of the fronds upon her skin. That was what she would paint.
Lucy worked quickly, but painting was not engrossing enough to keep her mind from wandering. Adam Cottingham’s words kept coming back to her but each time she dismissed them. She was sure Ralph could not be so ruthless, even if he no longer cared for his wife.
How can you be so certain?
The question, once posed, had to be answered. She could not ignore it. Ralph’s kindness to her, his wit, their shared moments—even when they disagreed violently—had given her more pleasure than anything she had ever known.
‘I love him.’
She spoke the words aloud to the empty room.
Love. What did she know of that? This was nothing like the love she felt for her parents. Apart from the painful grieving when Papa died, that love had always been a comfort. There was nothing comfortable about her feelings for Ralph Cottingham, fifth Baron Adversane. She wanted to rip and tear at him, whether it was a difference of opinion or—a shiver ran through her—in the dreams that disturbed her rest. Then she would imagine him in her bed, her hands touching his naked body, her mouth covering his skin with kisses, tasting him.
She shifted restlessly. This was beyond her experience. It could not be right to feel such violent emotion for a man she had known but a few weeks. It was not sensible. It was not safe. The sooner she left Adversane and its difficult, disturbing master the better.
The door opened and she looked around quickly, expecting to see the object of her wicked thoughts coming in. Instead, it was Lady Preston. Lucy summoned up a smile.
‘If you are looking for company I am afraid there is only me and my poor art here, ma’am.’
‘It is you I wish to see, Miss Halbrook.’
Lucy put down her brush but before she could speak Lady Preston launched into an attack.
‘You think to fill my daughter’s shoes in this house, do you not, Miss Halbrook? I advise you to think again, and reflect upon what you are doing.’
‘Lady Preston, I—’
‘He has chosen you because of your likeness to Helene.’
‘Really?’ Lucy could think of nothing else to say, since she could not deny it.
Lady Preston’s lip curled. ‘Oh, you may have fooled Adversane, but you do not fool me. Very clever of you to style yourself upon my daughter. How did you do that? Talked to the servants, I suppose, and to her friends. And of course now you are at Adversane there is her portrait to guide you.
‘Very clever, miss, but think carefully, before it is too late.’ The matron came closer. ‘He does not love you, my dear. It will all end in tears. You see, Charlotte promises to be as beautiful as her sister, and in a year or two, when she has matured, she will be her equal. Then what will you do? Adversane will not want you, a pale imitation, when he can have the real thing.’
‘Lady Preston, if Lord Adversane wishes to marry me—’
‘Oh, I am sure he does, at present, because you have bewitched him. He sees Helene every time he looks at you. But how long will that last, do you think? You are nothing like the glorious creature that was my daughter. And when he does see through the charade, sees the poor little dab of a creature he has married, what then?’
Lucy began to shake. Suddenly there was no pretence. Suddenly she felt she really was Ralph’s fiancée. She called upon all her resolution to speak calmly.
‘Perhaps we should allow Adversane to be the judge, ma’am.’
Lady Preston snorted.
‘He is so in love with Helene he cannot see beyond the superficial likeness at present, but that will change. You cannot replace her, however much you try to imitate her. Do you think I have not realised? But you will not catch him with such wiles and stratagems. You are not Helene. You do not have her goodness, her sweetness of temper.’
‘Perhaps not, but Ralph—’
‘You dare to call him by his name? What have you to offer him? It was Helene he loved. He will tire of you, Miss Halbrook, and then what will you be? His wife in name, perhaps, but rejected, ignored.’ Her lip curled. ‘You have only to observe poor little Judith Cottingham. Do you wish to be like her, cowed and unhappy, pitied by everyone and desperate for the slightest attention from her husband? Better to go now, miss, while you at least have your dignity.’
The venom in the woman’s eyes sparkled like knife-blades. Lucy had no defence. The knowledge that she had fallen headlong in love with Ralph had left her weak and confused. There had been a spark of hope, barely acknowledged, that Ralph might come to care for her. Now that was most effectively destroyed. It had never been very strong; more a faint, distant dream tucked away in her heart, but Lady Preston’s words had sliced right to her core and cut it out, leaving her so raw that she felt the tears welling up.
Without a word, she ran from the room, her last glance showing that Lady Preston was wearing a satisfied smile. Lucy hoped to reach her room without seeing anyone, but as she crossed the Great Hall, Ralph was emerging from the entrance passage. He could not fail to see her distress but she did not stop when he called to her. Instead, she flew up the stairs. When she reached the Long Gallery he was merely yards behind her. If only she could reach the safety of her room!
He caught up with her even as she opened the door. Ruthie was pottering about in the room, but a curt word from Adversane sent her scurrying away. He closed the door behind the maid and turned to look at Lucy.
‘Now, you will tell me what has overset you.’
His voice was as brisk as ever, but she knew him well enough to hear his concern. It brought forth from her another bout of tears. He gave her his handkerchief and waited in silence for her to speak.
‘I beg your pardon. I am being very foolish. It was L-Lady Preston. She says you only want me because I look like Helene, which I know anyway, and since this is all a charade it makes no odds...’
She trailed off, her head bowed. Distant thunder rumbled in through the open window as Ralph came closer.
‘You are wrong.’ He removed the handkerchief from her restless fingers and dried her cheeks. ‘This is no charade. Not any longer.’
He caught her chin and gently turned her face up towards him. He kissed her eyelids, his lips drying the remaining tears before his mouth moved over hers. Lucy melted into him. It felt so right to be in his arms, as if it was her natural home.
Suddenly, it did not matter if it was all a sham, if he thought he was making love to Helene. She wanted him. She would take whatever pleasure he offered her and hold the memory to comfort her through the empty years ahead.
His kiss deepened, and her body stirred in response. The thunder rolled again, but she did not know whether it was that or desire that made the very earth tremble. Her lips parted at his insistence and his tongue was plundering her mouth, drawing out an aching longing from her very core. She could feel its tug deep in her belly and between her thighs. With something like a growl he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed where he lay down with her, covering her face with kisses before his lips roved down to the hollow at the base of her throat. Her body was singing as his hands explored its contours. Her breasts ached to be free of the restraining gown so that he might caress them. She could feel him, hard and aroused, pressed against her, only a few thin layers of cloth between them.
She sighed and opened her eyes. She had slept in this bed for the past few weeks but now she saw it afresh. Everything looked different, brighter, the rich hangings, the elaborately carved posts—a sudden flash of lightning flooded the room and turned the folded silk above her head a deeper blue.
As blue as the eyes in the painting of Lady Adversane.
Quickly, Lucy shut out the thought. Thunder rolled again, like the distant grumble of angry gods. Ralph was kissing her breasts where they rose plump and soft above the edge of her gown. With one hand, he had pushed aside her skirts and was caressing her thigh. Her body responded, straining towards him. He would take her, she knew it. She wanted it as much as he.
But he is making love to his wife.
Lucy told herself again it did not matter—she was too hungry for his caresses to care. But even as her body yearned, ached for his touch, she knew it was not true. She did care. Very much. She struggled, her hands on his chest, trying to push him off.
‘Ralph—no—’
Immediately he let her go and sat up.
‘What is it? What is wrong?’ His breathing was ragged, his eyes dark with passion. ‘Tell me.’
Cold terror clutched at her heart. He would never forgive her for stopping him. She should not have let it go so far. With a sob, she scrambled off the bed and threw herself at the door. Even as the next rumble of thunder rolled through the house she was racing to the stairs.
* * *
She had to get out of the house, to get away. Lucy let herself out of the door and stepped out onto the drive. The sky was black and the first drops of rain were splashing down. A flicker of lightning illuminated the little wicket gate and she ran towards it, not stopping until she had reached the old ride, out of sight of the house.
She was crying in earnest now, for herself, for Ralph, for Helene. She had no thought other than to get away and she hurried on, walking and running by turns. The steady rain soaked her, mingling with the tears that would not stop. The very heavens seemed to be crying in sympathy.
Lucy barely saw Hobart’s Bridge as she ran across it, great gasping sobs racking her body. She wanted Ralph more than she had ever wanted anything in the world before, but only if he wanted her. She would not be a substitute for his wife. The thought brought on more tears, this time for the man she had left behind. If his love for Helene was only a fraction of what she was feeling, how on earth did he bear it, day after day?
The violence of her grief could not last and when it began to abate she became conscious of her situation on the open moor, exposed to the elements. Her thin muslin gown was soaked through and the heavy rain was creating a thick grey mist that reverberated with the almost continuous roll of thunder. Lucy could see no more than a few yards in any direction and looked about her, wondering which way to go.
A solitary figure appeared out of the mist. Ralph.
Lightning flickered. She wanted to run, but what was the point? He was so close now there could be no escape. She waited for him to come up, flinching a little as the thunder crashed loudly overhead.
‘The storm is getting closer,’ he said urgently. ‘We need to take shelter. The rocks are nearest.’
Lucy made no protest as he took her arm and hurried her towards Druids Rock. Rivulets of muddy water ran along the path and in some disconnected part of her mind she was aware that her muslin skirts were no longer cream but brown as high as the knee. Soon Ralph was leading her off the main path and up the narrow track to the rocks themselves. He pulled her through a small gap between two of the stones and into a small, dry cavity. It was too low to stand and they knelt on the earth floor, staring out at the rain.
‘We should be safe enough here.’ Ralph shrugged himself out of his greatcoat and put it around Lucy’s shoulders. ‘These rocks have stood thus for thousands of years. They won’t collapse upon us.’ Lightning flashed outside, followed so quickly by the thunder that Lucy jumped. Immediately, Ralph’s arm was around her. He said lightly, ‘I said women go to pieces in an electrical storm. Is that why you ran away from me? Were you frightened?’
She bowed her head, too numbed to dissemble.
‘Not by the thunder. I could not bear it, to be in your arms, knowing all the time you were thinking of your wife.’
‘That is not why I kissed you.’
She managed a sad little smile.
‘No. You wanted to comfort me. That was very kind, but—’
‘Kind!’ He gripped her shoulders and turned her towards him. ‘By heaven, I was not being kind, Lucy. I have never been kind to you, more’s the pity. I kissed you because I wanted to do so, because that is all I have wanted to do ever since I brought you to Adversane.’
His voice was harsh, and she peered through the gloom at him, trying to see his expression and understand what he was saying. He let her go, sitting back on his heels.
‘It is true I hired you because of your resemblance to Helene, but I soon discovered that you are nothing like her. She never touched my heart as you do, Lucy. She was stunningly beautiful, yes, but there was nothing behind those blue eyes. At least, not for me.’ He took one of her hands and stared down at it, saying quietly, ‘I always believed I was not the kind to fall in love, but I was wrong. Since you have been in the house you have turned my world upside down. You question and challenge and stand up to me as an equal. You have invaded my head, Lucy Halbrook, but you have also touched me here.’ He pulled her hand against his chest. ‘That was why I want to kiss you, why I love you. Not because you are similar to Helene, but because you are different.’
Lucy could feel his heart thudding through the damp cloth of his waistcoat. She put her free hand on his shoulder, closed the distance between them and kissed him. She had intended it to be a gentle kiss, full of comfort and reassurance, but when their lips met the searing bolt that passed between them was as great as any electrical storm. She clung to him, almost swooning as his mouth worked over hers, his tongue flickering, caressing, calling up the now-familiar desire from deep in her core. There was no grace, no delicacy—just a passionate, urgent desire that drove them on. They began to tear off their wet clothing between a series of hot, breathless kisses.
Lucy’s thin muslin gown was soaked through and had to be peeled away, leaving her body slick and wet. Ralph’s greatcoat had slipped from her shoulders and once they had discarded their clothes he pulled Lucy down onto it. A shiver of delight ran through her when she felt his naked limbs pressed against her own and smelled the salty dampness of his skin. He wrapped her in his arms, covering her face and neck with kisses. When his hand began to caress her breast, she strained towards him. His hand slid away, and she felt his mouth on the hard nub he had aroused, sucking and teasing until she was moaning with the delightful torture of it. She dug her nails into his shoulders as he continued the delicious torment and when she pulled his head up so that she could kiss his lips again, his fingers continued their restless assault, moving down, stroking her thighs, caressing her so intimately that she arched, gasping against his mouth.
Ripples of delight were pulsing through her, growing ever stronger. Her body softened. She was opening like a flower, laying her soul bare to this man who could wreak such havoc with her senses. She was no longer in control; her body was responding to Ralph’s demanding fingers as they stroked and circled and eased her to the very edge of ecstasy.
She cried out when he entered her, a tiny pain, followed by the slow building of pleasure again as he moved within her, slow steady strokes that had her crying out with delight. She had never felt such elation. Instinctively, she moved with him, matching his rhythm, the momentum carrying them higher and higher until at last they crested in a joyful union. The world shattered—Lucy heard Ralph shout, and she screamed, afraid that she was falling, only to feel herself held close, safely wrapped in his arms.
* * *
They lay together, bodies entwined, cocooned in a peace of their own making while the storm raged on outside. Ralph closed his eyes and breathed deeply, his body relaxed. He felt an immense satisfaction, but he was also somewhat stunned by the ferocity of their passion. Lucy had returned kiss for kiss, and if her lovemaking was a little inexpert it had been no less ardent and arousing. His sense of contentment deepened. She had much to learn, and he would enjoy teaching her. No doubt he, too, would learn a great deal in the process. She stirred and turned towards him, one arm slipping over his chest while her lips nibbled at his neck.
‘Has the thunder been that loud all the time?’ she murmured.
‘Yes.’
‘I did not notice.’
‘Shall I take that as a compliment?’
She laughed softly, a low, delicious sound that stirred his desire.
‘I hardly know,’ she replied demurely. ‘After all, I have no experience with which to compare what we have just done.’
Any remaining lethargy disappeared. He rolled over and pinned her beneath him.
‘Then you should believe me when I tell you that was very good.’
‘I should?’ Even in the dim light he could see the mischief in her eyes. She moved slightly, and his body reacted immediately. He was tense and coiled like a spring again, ready for action. Her smile told him she was perfectly aware of the effect she was having, and she murmured provocatively, ‘Perhaps you should show me again, my lord.’
Growling, Ralph stifled her laugh with a kiss. She responded eagerly, but this time there was no urgency to complete their union. He covered every part of her body with kisses. Her reactions delighted him, and she was eager to please him, too, exploring him with her hands and her mouth, learning quickly how to enslave him until he dragged her into his arms for another earth-shattering union that left them too exhausted to do anything other than sleep.
* * *
When Lucy awoke the rain had stopped. Sunlight gleamed at the entrance to their shelter and she could hear the faint song of a skylark somewhere over the moors. She stirred, and immediately Ralph’s arm tightened around her.
‘We must get back,’ she murmured. ‘We will be missed.’
Ralph rolled over and kissed her, then he eased himself up on one elbow.
‘You are very beautiful,’ he murmured.
She felt her whole body blushing under his gaze.
‘So, too, are you.’ She reached up and touched the hard contours of his chest, pushing her fingers through the smattering of crisp black hair. ‘I have never seen a man’s body before, save in paintings or sculpture. I think I would like to stay here and look at it for ever.’
‘I would dearly like to indulge you, my love, but unfortunately you are right, we will be missed. I must get you back to Adversane. But don’t worry.’ He caught her hand and raised it to his lips. ‘There will be plenty of opportunities for us to study each other in future.’
The thought made her shiver with pleasure. She sat up and reached for her clothes.
‘They are so wet it will not be easy to dress,’ she remarked. ‘Will you help me?’
* * *
Putting the cold, wet material onto her body was neither easy nor pleasant, but at last she was dressed and while Ralph threw on his own clothes she tried vainly to tidy her hair. Then it was time to crawl out of their shelter.
The sun was blessedly hot and Lucy shook out the mud-splattered skirts, saying with dismay, ‘I fear this gown is quite ruined. What will everyone think?’
‘That we were caught in a thunderstorm,’ said Ralph. ‘They may of course guess at what occurred while we were sheltering, but if they do they will not think much about it. We are betrothed after all.’ He took her hand. ‘There can be no question of calling off the engagement now, Lucy.’
‘Do you want to marry me, Ralph?’
His smile banished her doubts. He pulled her close and kissed her.
‘Yes, I do. Very much.’
Another kiss set her heart singing. She clung to him for a moment, wondering how it was possible to be so happy.
* * *
With a reluctant sigh, Ralph lifted his head, trying to ignore the temptation of those soft lips and the green eyes that positively smouldered with passion. Not that she was trying to be seductive. He found her very innocence intoxicating. But it was a responsibility, too. He would take care of her.
Better than the care you took of Helene.
The thought was like a hammer blow to his conscience. Was he wrong to marry again? After Helene’s death he had vowed never to do so, but his resolution had wavered and died when Lucy Halbrook swept into Adversane, turning his life upside down. But was she strong enough to stand up to him, or would he see her spirit crushed by his impatience? Dear heaven, he prayed he was not making a mistake!
Some of the pain it caused must have been displayed in his face, for he saw Lucy’s look change to one of concern. Banishing his darker thoughts, he said with a smile, ‘Let us get back before they send out a search party. Are you cold in those wet clothes? Would you like to wear my greatcoat?’
‘Thank you, but, no. I am quite warm now and the sun will dry me a little as we walk.’
‘Come along, then.’
He took her hand and with his greatcoat over his free arm they set off. When they reached the spot where he had come upon her she asked him how he had known where to find her.
‘You left the wicket gate open. I saw it as soon as I looked outside. I would have found you sooner, only I thought you would be hiding somewhere in the house.’ His frantic search of the dark, storm-filled house now seemed like part of another life. ‘I did not think you would be so foolish as to go out of doors.’
‘I wanted to get away from you and everyone. I thought you would be so angry that...that I had stopped you...’
The unease in her voice tore at his heart.
‘Not so much angry as bemused,’ he said, remembering that when she had pushed him away he had hoped—prayed—it had been the storm that had frightened her and not his passion. ‘Then, when I realised you were heading for the moors I was afraid for you. Electrical storms can be very dangerous.’
‘So you came after me.’
‘Yes, although I had not planned to ravish you.’ He squeezed her fingers. ‘Do you regret it?’
She shook her head.
‘Not at all.’ She stopped. ‘Unless you do—Ralph, you will tell me, won’t you, if you decide you do not want to marry me?’
Looking down into her upturned face, he knew how much he wanted to marry her, but should he do so? Could he be a good husband? That little worm of doubt still gnawed at his conscience. He thrust the thought aside and pulled her close, giving in to the temptation to take just one more kiss.
‘That will never happen,’ he said. ‘You are mine now, Lucy Halbrook, and I shall never let you go.’
* * *
Lucy’s heart soared. She accompanied Ralph back through the old ride, her heart singing. However, when they reached the house grounds she found her apprehension growing.
‘Ralph, is there a way we can slip into the house unnoticed? That door in the wall perhaps...’
‘That leads to the kitchen gardens and unfortunately there will be servants everywhere at this time of the day. To creep in like a couple of thieves would give rise to the very worst sort of conjecture. No, my love, we must brave it out.’
My love.
The words gave her courage as he led her towards the main entrance.
