Читать книгу Historical Romance – The Best Of The Year - Кэрол Мортимер, Кэрол Мортимер - Страница 46

Chapter Nineteen

Days turned into weeks. Dominique busied herself around the house and looked after her baby. She scoured the newspapers every day, but the reports only made her more anxious. Bonaparte’s fury at being forced into war before he was ready was manifesting itself in attacks and imprisonment of the English who had not managed to leave France in time. If that was the case for innocent travellers, how much worse would it be for Gideon, if he was caught?

Dominique took some comfort from the fact that Gwen and Anthony were now much closer—so much so that Ribbleston soon told Gwen of the duel Gideon had fought with Max and she promptly passed the news on. Dominique’s worst fears—that Max should die and Gideon would then be wanted for murder—were soon eased when the social pages reported that the earl had retired to Martlesham Abbey amid rumours that he was seriously in debt. Dominique could only be thankful that she and her mother no longer lived under his aegis.

There was a small diversion at the end of May when she travelled to London with her mother to see Mr Rogers and go with him to Coutts’ bank. The dowry her father had set aside for her was signed over and the remainder of the Rainault fortune was secured for her mother’s use, but the knowledge that Gideon had made this possible only added to Dominique’s unhappiness. She had not thanked him for his efforts and the fear deep in her heart was that now she would never have the chance to do so.

* * *

The atmosphere at Rotham became hushed, expectant, as if the house itself was waiting for news. Mrs Rainault spent so much time there with her daughter that the viscount suggested she should come and stay again until Gideon’s return.

‘And he will return,’ he assured Dominique. ‘The family has many friends in France, believe me.’

But as the summer wore on even the viscount’s confidence wavered.

‘I am sure that if it was not for our being here, and little James, Lord Rotham would return to his reclusive ways,’ Dominique told her mother, when they were strolling in the walled garden one afternoon. The July sun was beating down, filling the still air with the scent of roses.

‘He has told me how much you have changed his life,’ said Mrs Rainault. ‘Rotham had grown cold and silent before you came, but he says you brought it back to life—more than that, you restored his son to him.’

‘And I am the reason he has gone away, perhaps forever.’

‘You must not talk like that.’ Mrs Rainault gave her arm a little shake. ‘You must not give up hope, Dominique.’

‘But it has been ten weeks. It feels like a lifetime. You have been waiting for news of Papa for ten years—how, Maman? How have you lived with the pain, the uncertainty?’

Mrs Rainault smiled. ‘With love, my dear. And faith. I always believed Jerome would come back to me, one day.’

Dominique felt hot tears pricking at her eyes. If only she could be so certain, but she was afraid that she had not earned such happiness.

‘Oh, Maman, we have been so foolish, Gideon and I! We wasted so much time. If only—’ She broke off, her head going up as she heard the faint scrunch of gravel. ‘Is that a carriage?’ She shook her head. ‘No, no, it is the wind rustling the leaves on the trees. I vow, Maman, I am becoming quite a nervous being, jumping at shadows...’

But her mother was not listening. She was looking past Dominique towards the house, such a look of wonder on her face that Dominique found her breathing interrupted by the rapid thudding of her heart. Fearing disappointment, she forced her unwilling body to turn. The long windows leading into the house were thrown open and a tall man stood there, his thin frame slightly stooped. His white hair was brushed back from a pale brow and a pair of familiar dark eyes looked out from his gaunt face.

‘P-Papa?’

With a stifled cry her mother ran forwards.

‘Jerome? Oh, my love, is it really you?’

The old man stepped out on to the terrace, holding out his arms.

‘Mais oui, ma chère.’

Whatever else had changed, his voice had not. It was firm and warm and brought a host of memories flooding back. Her mother was already in his arms, weeping softly into his shoulder. Dominique followed more slowly, not sure of her welcome. Over her mother’s head Jerome smiled. He freed one hand and reached out for her.

‘Dominique. Daughter.’

She took his hand and for the first time in many months allowed the tears to spill over.

‘Welcome home, Papa.’ She moved closer, hugging both her parents before stepping away. However much she wanted to be part of it she realised this was their time, two lovers reunited. Lord Rotham was standing in the doorway, his head bowed. He had one hand over his face and his shoulders shaking. His image was blurred by her tears, but she was filled with dread. She had managed to keep her fears buried deep, except in the dark reaches of the night when the demons would taunt her with the thought that Gideon would never return. Now those fears leaped free and she found herself comparing her mother’s newfound happiness with her own bleak future.

But it was not only her unhappiness. She wiped away her tears and went to the viscount, laying a hand on his arm.

‘Oh, my lord—’ There was a movement in the shadowy room behind him and her heart stopped. ‘G-Gideon?’

‘Yes,’ said the viscount, his voice a little unsteady. ‘He is here. He is safe.’

He stepped aside and with a sob she flew across the room to the figure standing in the shadows. Gideon caught her in a fierce hug that lifted her off her feet. He was dusty from the road and smelled of dirt and horses, but she did not care, for when he sought her mouth and kissed her she lost herself in the taste and scent of her own dear husband.

When at last he released her she clung to him, burying her face in his shoulder.

‘Oh, Gideon, I was so frightened you would not come back!’

His arms tightened.

‘How could I not, when I knew you were waiting for me?’ He put his fingers beneath her chin and tilted her face up towards him again. ‘I dreamed of this moment every night.’ He kissed her again, gently this time, his lips a soft caress. ‘I cannot tell you how much I have missed you.’

‘Let us go and sit down, I want to know everything.’

‘Later,’ he said, laughing. ‘I am far too dirty to sully my father’s furniture. Let us join the others in the garden.’ He looked up at the silent figure standing by the open windows. ‘My lord, will you come, too?’

‘Thank you, no. I shall find Colne and tell him to delay dinner by at least an hour.’ He held out his hand. ‘I am glad to have you back, my son.’

‘Thank you, Father. I am pleased to be here.’ He clasped the proffered hand for a long moment, holding his father’s eyes until the viscount gave a little nod and walked away.

* * *

Gideon kept his arm about Dominique as he led her out into the garden. Jerome and Mrs Rainault were some distance away, strolling through the roses, arms linked and their heads close together.

‘They have a great deal to catch up on,’ murmured Dominique, following his glance.

‘As have we.’

Dominique held him even tighter.

‘We read such terrifying reports—was it very dangerous?’

‘A little, of course, but we had many people to help us, including some of the Duc du Chailly’s family and friends.’ He was silent for a moment and Dominique waited patiently for him to speak again. ‘There are many good people in France, Dominique. I was wrong to harbour such hatred for so many years.’

She waved one hand at him.

‘That is all in the past, my love. And I haven’t yet thanked you, for thwarting Max’s plans to take my father’s fortune for his own.’ She flushed and added quietly, ‘Perhaps I should thank Mrs Bennet, too.’

‘Yes, only I doubt you could find her. But I owe her quite a debt, too.’

‘Oh?’ Dominique stiffened as jealousy pricked her.

Gideon’s arm tightened and she glanced up. He was smiling, his eyes boring into her, as if he could read her very thoughts.

He said, ‘If she had not agreed to Max’s plan in the first place I would never have married you and would never have known how happy a man could be.’

‘Oh,’ she said again, her jealousy melting away to be replaced by a tingling excitement deep in her core.

He leaned closer.

‘You must come upstairs with me now. I cannot wait until tonight to make love to you.’

She blushed.

‘I would like that, but what about Maman and Papa?’

‘They will not miss us, and if they do, they will understand.’

Gently but firmly he led her back into the house. It was all they could do not to run through the rooms and up the stairs to his bedchamber, but as soon as they were inside all restraint disappeared. They came together eagerly, exchanging hot kisses even as they undressed one another, tearing off the layers until they could lie upon the bed together, skin against skin.

Dominique revelled in the kisses Gideon showered upon her body and she returned them with equal fervour. She cupped his proud erection in her hands, worshipped it with her mouth even as he gently parted her thighs to bestow upon her that most intimate of kisses. The sensations he aroused with his tongue and his mouth soon had her falling back upon the bed, surrendering to the delicious torment. She moaned softly, shivering as wave after wave of excitement rippled through her. His tongue played her, circling and lapping at her core. Her body arched as she felt the climax approaching. She was almost out of control, aching with pleasure, wanting him to stop and at the same time wanting him to carry her onwards.

She reached for him, her fingers clutching at the solid muscle of his shoulders as he slid his body over hers, claiming her mouth for a deep, penetrating kiss even as he thrust into her. Her body tightened about him and she cried out with the sheer joy of it. He moved carefully, stroking her, taking her with him to that final shuddering, shattering climax, a blinding explosion of thought and feeling as the world splintered and disintegrated, leaving them shocked, sated and exhausted.

Gideon wrapped himself around her and pulled her close.

‘My wife.’ His breath was warm on her ear as he murmured the words. ‘My own.’

She twisted in his arms so that she could hold him.

‘And I am no longer penniless,’ she told him, gently pressing kisses on his eyes, his cheeks and down the length of his lean jaw. ‘I have a dowry now, thanks to you.’

‘So you have. I had forgotten.’

She stopped kissing him and he opened his eyes to find her regarding him solemnly.

‘Does it not matter to you? Do you not want to use it? We could improve Chalcots, perhaps buy another property—’

He put his hand on her lips.

‘Let us settle it upon our children. I feel sure there are more on the way. Besides,’ he added, drawing her back into his arms, ‘with you for my wife I am rich beyond my wildest dreams.’

* * * * *