Part 7 (1/2)
He trembled. d.a.m.n Trevor.
She turned then to look up at him. The half-smile froze on her face but she didnat look away. She simply stared at him, unconsciously taking a step toward him. Marcus cursed.
Trevor, eyeing the two of them, quickly mounted Clancy and dug his heels in the stallionas sides. He called out over his shoulder, aTake care not to fall off a cliff.a Marcus cursed again and helped her to mount Birdie. aJust wait,a he said. aJust wait.a She said slowly, not looking away from his blue eyes that were glittering brighter than the summer sky overhead, aIave a mind to find that treasure, Marcus.a aWhich treasure?a he said, his eyes on her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.
17.
MARCUS SAID ABSOLUTELY nothing throughout the two-hour ride back to Chase Park, staring straight ahead between Stanleyas ears. She didnat look at him either, but her thoughts were of him, all of him and what he was thinking, what he wanted, what he would do to her. She spurred Birdie to a faster pace.
When they reached the Chase stables, he nearly jerked her off Birdieas back, grabbed her hand, and said low, aCome on. Now.a He grabbed her hand and nearly ran to the stables, kicked open the door to one of the tack rooms, then slammed it shut again with the heel of his boot. There was a key in the door and he turned it, still not releasing her right hand.
She had never imagined that a man could be so very urgent in the middle of the day. And here they were, not five minutes from his bedchamber and his bed. Head waited two hours, but no longer? It was fascinating. Maybe this had something to do with that beyond business.
She devoutly hoped so. Suddenly, she was doing more than hoping.
aNow,a he said, turning to face her. He pulled on her hand, bringing her against him. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes narrowed, focused entirely on her. aHurry, d.u.c.h.ess.a She was pressed to his chest, feeling the deep pounding of his heart. She closed her eyes, those two simple words of his roiling through her. aWhat do you want me to do?a She was whispering, feeling suddenly so urgent she could barely talk. She flattened her hands against his chest, felt the pounding of his heart beneath her palm, and rose on her tiptoes. aMarcus, tell me what you want me to do.a He stared down at her, his look intent. aJust be you. I want to see if you will moan for me again, if you will scream and nearly buck me off you. I want to see if you will become frantic for me again.a She felt his large hands pulling open her riding jacket. He was holding his breath, she realized, when suddenly his hands cupped her b.r.e.a.s.t.s through the thin white lawn of her blouse. He closed his eyes, throwing his head back as he kneaded her through the soft material.
aMarcus,a she said again. He hugged her to him. He pulled off her jaunty riding hat, then tugged the pins from her hair. aAh,a he said, and kissed her ear, blowing tendrils of hair from his mouth, his breath warm against her flesh, his fingers tangling in her hair.
aDo you want me, d.u.c.h.ess?a She pulled him more tightly against her. She let her hands go down his back to his flanks. aI think thatas quite the stupidest thing youave ever said.a He had to grin at that, but it was difficult. He had her undressed and flat on her back in a matter of moments. He stood over her, pulling off his boots and his buckskin trousers, looking at her face all the while he jerked off his clothes, and she lay there on her back, her riding clothes spread out beneath her, watching him, excitement rippling through her as he removed each piece of clothing. When he tossed his trousers aside and stood over her, his legs slightly spread, his s.e.x free of his clothes, full and heavy, she said, aPlease hurry, Marcus.a She stretched out her arms to him, her eyes darkening. aOh goodness, youare more beautiful than your stallion.a He c.o.c.ked an eyebrow at that and came down on his knees beside her. aStanley would hurt a mare when he took her. I would never hurt you. And I wonat hurry, d.u.c.h.ess, at least Iall try my d.a.m.nedest not to.a He leaned down as he spoke and his last words were a whisper against her breast.
She cried out, arching up against his mouth.
aEasy,a he said, pus.h.i.+ng her back, his hand flat on her belly. aEasy. It will be all right. Just be open for me, d.u.c.h.ess. Just open.a He wanted her mouth immediately and she gave him her warmth as she parted her lips and he touched her tongue. She arched again and she felt him trembling against her, his hand now moving from her b.r.e.a.s.t.s to her belly, kneading her, spanning her with splayed fingers, gently caressing her pelvic bones, then going lower, circling her, lightly touching the warm flesh of her thighs, then finally cupping her, his fingers caressing and so very gentle until he found her and began to move in a rhythm that made her forget everything but him and those fingers of his and his mouth on hers and the heat of him as he moved over her. This time, though, his mouth never left hers, and it was his fingers that brought her to a tension that threatened to shatter her, so intense it was. And just at that instant when she knew, just knew there could be no more for her, he came into her, hard and deep, and her body exploded into blazing light, sparking a pleasure so strong, so urgent, she screamed, her hands clutching at his arms, at his back. It was too much.
He was driving into her, drawing her upward to meet him again, when she managed to look up into his face, harsh in the dim light of the tack room, his eyes glazed, and suddenly, it seemed that he was in immense pain. His jaw was locked, his cheeks flushed, the flesh taut over his bones. He grew still. She could feel him deep inside her, heavy, jerking slightly. Then, in the next instant, he wrenched away from her, heaving, groaning as if he were in pain, cursing, his hands digging into her hips to support himself, and she didnat understand, couldnat begin to realize what he was doing until she felt the wet of his seed on her belly, felt him jerking over her until finally, he was on his knees between her legs, his head bowed, his eyes closed, his breathing ragged.
She said nothing, merely stared at him, the pleasure from such a short time before now as cold as ashes on a summer grate. She felt nothing but a vast emptiness that would consume her, she knew it as certainly as she now understood him and what he had planned the previous night but had failed to carry out.
She saw his seed on her belly. She held perfectly still. If she remained perfectly still, said naught, not a single word, maybe the pain would diminish, maybe he would say something that wouldnat tear her apart.
He rose, standing naked over her. aIall get my handkerchief.a She closed her eyes and turned onto her side, drawing her legs up. She didnat care that she was naked, that he would look at her, it just didnat matter. She felt him coming back down on his knees, felt his hands on her shoulder and hip, turning her back to him. She felt the handkerchief wiping his seed from her.
aDonat you dare cry, d.u.c.h.ess,a he said low, his face bending close to her head. aDonat you dare weep your d.a.m.ned womanas tears and say that I abused you, that you didnat gain pleasure from me. You had great pleasure if your screams were any measure, and believe me, they were. I didnat cheat you out of anything save my seed, but you know I intended to do that. If you didnat understand what I meant, you do now. I told you that you wonat bear any child of mine to follow in that b.a.s.t.a.r.das footsteps. It is done. Get up now and get dressed.a He tossed the handkerchief beside her on her riding skirt. She watched him as he dressed, his movements as graceful as they always were, oblivious of her now, as if she had been naught but a receptacle for his manas l.u.s.t, and since he was through with her, why bother then regarding her anymore. Then she saw his hands, hard and large, yet when they touched her, they . . . she closed her eyes. He was in full control, both of himself and of her. She had no control at all, indeed, at that moment, she had nothing.
Slowly, she sat up, drawing her now wrinkled chemise over her head. She stared at a beautiful Spanish saddle as she said, aBadger is preparing dinner himself tonight.a Marcus eyed her with some surprise. He shouldnat be surprised, he thought, no tears for the d.u.c.h.ess, no sign of anything, except when she wanted him to pleasure her. No, no sign of anything because emotion was too messy, it would reduce her in her own eyes to show anyone anything save her immense calm, that d.a.m.nable aloofness of hers. He said, aWhat is he preparing?a aRoasted lamb with apricot sauce. He says it takes too long a time to hash a shoulder of mutton properly so instead he has marinated the mutton all day.a Marcus grunted as he pulled on his coat. He walked to a chair, sat down, and pulled on his boots.
aHe is also making a cherry and almond cake. It was always one of my motheras favorites. And ca.s.sia biscuits. They have castor sugar and currants in them.a He rose then and looked down at her sitting cross-legged on her riding skirt, his damp wadded-up handkerchief beside her, her chemise pulled over her head to fall only to her thighs, those white legs of hers so beautifully shaped. Her hair was tumbled about her head. She looked so lovely and yet so desperate in her calmness, he felt a stab of alarm. He shook his head. No, not the d.u.c.h.ess, she wouldnat feel anything that would interfere with the smoothness of her breath, save when he took her and stroked her. And that gave him power over her. That pleased him. He could shatter her calm in those precious minutes. He took a step toward her, then stopped suddenly, frowning. aDo you not think it a bit odd to speak about Badgeras recipes so soon after having s.e.x with me?a aWould you prefer that I said nothing?a aIt is what you usually say. Holding cold and detached is your specialty. It is what I expected.a aI spoke about food to break the silence, to give you background noise while you dressed again. Would you rather I had spoken of something else?a aYes. Of me and what I did to you, of what I gave to you. Of yourself, and what I will teach you to do to me. Right now you are taking, d.u.c.h.ess, naught but taking. Are you willing to give as well?a She looked beyond his right shoulder. aDo you know how pippins and plums are candied?a aNo, I donat know.a aYou mustnat forget that a good cook, which Badger is, also knows how to use foods to prepare remedies for illnesses.a He hunkered down beside her. He took her chin in his palm. aShut up.a She became still as a stone.
He kissed her, forcing her mouth open, but he didnat savage her, no, not at all. She felt his tongue gently come into her mouth, lightly touching hers, demanding nothing. She closed her eyes, forcing herself to ignore the burgeoning warmth deep in her belly. It was humiliating, that d.a.m.ned warmth that he drew so effortlessly from her.
Then he was gone, rising to stand over her. aDress yourself. I imagine that all our stable lads know exactly what weave been doing. Come, Iall help you. There is straw in your hair. I suppose I should take that handkerchief. It smells of me and of you and I wouldnat want to make you remember that you are as wild as a mare when a stallion comes over her.a Suddenly, something else shattered deep inside her, broke wide apart, and rage such as shead never felt in her nineteen years poured through her. She knew it was rage even though shead never recognized it within herself before. Ah, yes, she knew, and she let it feed on itself, let it grow stronger and stronger still. She could feel the rage pounding in every part of her body, unleas.h.i.+ng itself in her, pus.h.i.+ng her and pus.h.i.+ng harder and harder.
The stillness, the hard-won calm and serenity shead shown to the world since that long-ago day when shead heard the upstairs maid tell the Tweenie that she was a b.a.s.t.a.r.d flared bright and hot in her mind. She could see the two of them, hear their voices talking about her. She saw herself, small and so very frightened, so utterly alone in this huge mansion, seeking out her fatheras wife, knowing she would tell her the truth, just not realizing the depths of the countessas hatred of her, of her very existence. It was more than just hatred, it was vile and cold and contemptuous, what the countess of Chase felt for her, a nine-year-old girl whoad just found out she was a b.a.s.t.a.r.d. It spewed over her, drowning her in it and she hadnat been able to bear it.
And then Marcus had named her the d.u.c.h.ess and all that calm, that stillness, that haughty reserve that others applauded in her, indeed poured approval upon her because of it, seeped into her very soul. And she nurtured it as she would a precious rose in her motheras garden, until it was, quite simply, natural. It became her, and she a reflection of it; she was it. She became the d.u.c.h.ess.
Until now. The rage bubbled and flamed. She was stripped, everything in her naked and hard and cold and eager for violence. She stared at him, letting her rage at what head done to her continue to build.
She rose slowly to her feet, smoothing down her wrinkled, soiled chemise. She saw that her hands were shaking, but not with timidity, but with the cleansing sweet anger. And it was sweet, that rage that shead buried deep as her very soul so many years before. She watched him as he walked back to his chair and sat down. He crossed his legs and his arms over his chest.
aDress,a he said. aYou might try some feminine wiles on me, Iad like to see if you have talent for it. You donat understand, d.u.c.h.ess? Well, dress slowly, tease me with a toss of your head, raise your b.r.e.a.s.t.s, perhaps show me some cleavage, move your hips in a seductive way. Are you capable of such a thing? I wonder.a She just stared at him, this man to whom shead given herself, this man shead saved, truth be told, she had saved him, saved the future of the Wyndham line, and he was a tyrant, a fool, a savage who had humiliated her more than shead believed one human being could humiliate another. Head withdrawn from her because of his hatred of her father. Head treated her like nothing more than a vessel for his l.u.s.t and even that he hadnat allowed. He scorned her womb because it represented a tie to the uncle he hated so very much. He scorned her for it, even though shead been naught but a b.a.s.t.a.r.d, and perhaps that was why he did. He simply didnat care what he did to her. And he knew she would simply accept whatever he meted out to her.
She realized that his hatred of her father wasnat close to the rage that consumed her now, this fine rage that was making her mind cold and hard and so very clear. She stoked it with memories from her childhood and more recent memories of his humiliating treatment of her.
She even smiled as she looked around the tack room, smiled even as she felt the rage turning inside her to something more forthright, something pure and cold as ice, something really quite vicious. If shead had a gun, she would have shot him. She grabbed a riding crop from the desk, raised it high and ran at him, yelling in a wonderfully demented voice, aYou d.a.m.ned b.a.s.t.a.r.d! You think I will remain silent and allow you to humiliate me? You think you can treat me as you would a person of no account at all? I hate you, do you hear me, Marcus, you b.l.o.o.d.y d.a.m.ned b.a.s.t.a.r.d! Never will you abuse me again and take it as your right, your privilege, never again!a She struck his chest and shoulder with the riding crop. For an instant he didnat move, just stared at her, unwilling to believe what head just heard from her mouth or the pain from her slas.h.i.+ng riding crop. He simply couldnat connect this virago, this frenzied creature, to the d.u.c.h.ess, to the female head known for ten years.
She was panting hard, as if shead been running until she was ready to vomit with the strain, panting and heaving. aYou want me to act the seductress? Prance in front you as if youare my master, my owner? Youare a filthy b.a.s.t.a.r.d!a She struck him again and he felt his riding jacket split open, felt the lash cut through his lawn s.h.i.+rt to his flesh beneath.
He roared and jumped up. aEnough, d.a.m.n you! What the h.e.l.l is wrong with you? Just a moment ago you were as placid as a stupid cow, sitting there silently as you always do, obeying me, quoting Badgeras menu to me, for G.o.das sake. Nothing on your mind save what you deemed appropriate and proper.a aDonat you dare call me a stupid cow, you fool!a She struck him again. He lunged for her, but she jumped back just beyond his reach, hitting out at him again, missing this time, but if she had connected, it would have slashed through his flesh.
He stopped cold in his tracks. He couldnat believe what was happening. The proof was in the pain of the two slashes she managed, but still . . . He said, his voice colder and harder than what head used to get his men into battle, aYou wonat strike me again, d.u.c.h.ess, not again. I will make you regret striking me at all.a aYou try it and Iall gullet you, you stupid, ungrateful sod. G.o.d, to think that I saved you, that I felt that I owed you your heritage. You donat deserve anything, Marcus, save a beating that will bring you to your knees, humiliation, in short, G.o.d, thatas what you deserve, thatas what you need!a She threw the crop at him, grabbed up a bridle and began swinging it at him with all her strength. She felt the instant the metal bit struck his flesh, felt the iron bit strike his skull, and it was clean that blow, clean and pure and he deserved it. She watched him weave where he stood, his hand on the side of his head, and he stood there just staring at her utterly disbelieving, then he dropped like a stone to his knees, then keeled over onto his side, quite unconscious.
She was panting hard, feeling stronger than the mightiest Amazon of legend. She gently laid down the bridle, went down on her knees and felt his heart. The beat was steady. He would be fine, the d.a.m.nable b.a.s.t.a.r.d. G.o.d, she hoped he would have a headache to rival the worst bellyache shead ever suffered.
She rose, smoothed down her chemise once more, then quite calmly, dressed herself. She gave him one last look, smiling at the two rents in his clothes from the riding crop and left the tack room, quietly closing the door behind her.
It was raining, the afternoon prematurely dark, the wind blowing hard, the branches of the maple and lime trees tearing at themselves. aIt is like Beltane night the monk wrote about,a she said aloud, then laughed, throwing her head back and letting the rain wash over her face and hair. She felt wonderful. She felt strong. She felt whole.
18.
THE GREEN CUBE Room was cozy with its fire blazing and the heavy draperies drawn across the windows. It was late afternoon and she was alone. This time, it felt quite good to be alone. She spared only a pa.s.sing thought for Marcus. If he was conscious, then what was he doing? What was he thinking? Perhaps he was staggering back to the house even now. Perhaps she should go and meet him. No, if she did, shead laugh in his face. Instead, she smiled into the flames, feeling herself grow as warm on the inside as on the outside.
ah.e.l.lo, d.u.c.h.ess. Youare alone. May I speak to you?a She turned slowly and looked at Trevor. How very handsome he was, she thought, and not at all a fool or an idiot like her husband. aDo come in,a she said.
He stopped beside her chair, then moved to stand beside the fireplace, leaning his shoulder against the mantel. aYou know, d.u.c.h.ess, you can speak to me. I also know that Iam more a stranger to you than not, but then again, strangers arenat bad sorts sometimes. They can be trusted. They can be discreet. Something bothers you.a aThere is nothing wrong with me,a she said. aAt least not anymore there isnat. Why would you possibly think that?a aYour stillness,a he said slowly. aWhen you become silent as a stone and as unmoving as that beautiful painting over the mantel, I know that you are distressed.a To his surprise, she laughed. aActually youare very observant, Trevor, but my stillness now, well, itas not the kind of stillness it was yesterday or even this morning or even two hours ago. Now it is just simple stillness because, frankly, Iam tired. So, believe me, sir, there is nothing at all wrong with me now, nothing at all.a aYouare right,a he said slowly. aSomething has changed, youare different somehow. I was thinking when I saw you sitting there, so still, so quiet, that Marcus has known you since you were a child, yet he never realized your quiet pose was just that, a pose, a s.h.i.+eld youad fas.h.i.+oned over the years to protect yourself from hurt. He sees it as arrogance, as your way of playing the queen and keeping the peasants at their distance. It enrages him, you know.a aYou are more than observant, youare frightening. As you said, something has happened, and that girl you just described has thankfully fallen behind the wainscoting. She no longer exists. If I am silent now, or overly quiet, it is because it is what I feel like being. G.o.d, life can be quite satisfying, can it not? I will see you at dinner, Trevor.a The d.u.c.h.ess rose from her winged chair and walked from the room, whistling one of the military ditties shead heard Spears singing. He could but stare. What had happened? He wondered where the h.e.l.l Marcus was.
aWhat were you speaking to that little trollop about, Trevor?a He raised his eyes to his motheras face as she walked briskly into the room. aShe isnat a trollop. Sheas the countess of Chase. She is a lady and she has a kindness Iave never before seen in another person.a He paused a moment at his motheras loud hrmmph, then added, aIndeed, if you donat find some conciliatory remark to flit out of your mouth, itas possible that she will simply order us out of here.a aShe wouldnat dare. Sheas a b.a.s.t.a.r.d and the earl doesnat even like her. She has no power here. She is nothing. Besides the earl finds me quite to his liking.a Trevor could only stare at his fond parent. She was actually patting the tight sausage curls over her left ear. He sighed, saying, aI a.s.sure you that Marcus is quite fond of the d.u.c.h.ess.a He wished he could add that Marcusas fondness had quite likely extended itself to very physical demonstrations a short time ago, but he held his tongue. If Marcus had done the job even adequately, why was there such a transformation in her now? There was an unleashed power in her that she couldnat hide. It was controlled, but now it would be loosed when she chose. He found it fascinating. But what had happened to bring about this change in her? Surely Marcus couldnat have bungled his lovemaking all that badly. Maybe, he thought, just maybe it was that Marcus hadnat bungled anything. Maybe she was a pleasured woman and that had made all the difference in her, for her.
Trevor eyed his mother. He realized that he didnat know his mother all that well. Since his eighteenth year, head not lived at his parentsa home in Baltimore. Head made his home in Was.h.i.+ngton. Indeed, head fought like the devil himself when the British had landed and stormed the capital. Head turned twenty-two during those blood-soaked weary days, then when it was all over, head gone back to Baltimore and married the richest most beautiful girl Baltimorean society had to offer a hungry young man. Her name was Helen and she was more lovely than her legendary namesake. He saw her in his mindas eyea”dead, lying there on her back, her eyes open, her flesh like gray wax.
aIam going to be twenty-five next Tuesday,a he said to no one in particular.