Aurore drew in a small breath, myriad possible answers racing through her mind. Yet when she spoke, her response was completely divorced from all myriad possibilities. “Would you have ever come to see me?” she asked.
He didn’t immediately reply. Glancing at the press of people around them, he said with soft restraint, “It’s a long story. Could we talk about it somewhere else?”
“I should be angry with you.”
“That would be better discussed somewhere else as well. Please,” he murmured, his gaze earnest.
It took every ounce of willpower she possessed to keep from throwing her arms around his neck and crying out, Take me anywhere at all. “I have to tell Etienne where I’m going,” she said instead with deliberate calm.
He immediately smiled and held out his hand. “Lead the way.”
As they descended the few stairs from the viewing stand to the ground and stepped onto the grass bordering the track, they did so in an awkward silence.
Speaking first, Darley muttered, “You’ve been on my mind.”
“And you are displeased by the fact?” His disgruntled tone was unmistakable.
“I was in Eupatoria where distractions were perilous.” He’d been in the thick of battle.
“I’m sorry.” But she couldn’t help feeling pleased that he’d been thinking of her.
He shrugged. “I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”
“Once Etienne was on the mend, I confess you were in my thoughts as well.”
He shot her a look, opened his mouth to speak and, apparently thinking better of it, shut his mouth again.
“You leave in the morning?”
His sudden smile was brilliant. “You read my mind.”
“Are you going to Helena’s tonight?”
“Will you be there?”
She nodded.
“Perhaps I’ll come later should politesse allow.” Or perhaps his vaulting desires would be sated by then. “Cafer’s sister is an old friend.”
“Indeed.”
He smiled. “Not that kind of friend. There’s your brother. Tell him I’ll drive you home.”
Even as she understood his familiarity with command, she bristled at the absolutism in his tone. “Would you care to rephrase that?” she said, oversweet.
With the prospect of soon having Aurore to himself, Darley was willing to do most anything. “Forgive my abruptness. I would be extremely gratified if you would allow me to drive you home, Miss Clement.” He dipped his head deferentially. “Or should I ask your brother for permission?”
She winked. “Very nice, Gazi. You have expectations, I gather.”
“Only if you approve, Miss Clement,” he replied with an answering wink.
She laughed. “I’m very glad I came to the races today.”
“Not as glad as I,” he murmured, careful to keep his voice low as they closed in on Etienne and his friends.
Greetings were exchanged, the civilities observed apropos Etienne’s recovery, introductions made to various of the men unknown to Gazi before Aurore informed her brother that she was leaving. “I’ll see you after the races,” she said.
“I have other plans, Rory. I’ll be back in the morning. Would you care to join us tonight?” he inquired, glancing at Darley. “We plan on taking our track winnings to the gaming tables.”
“I leave early tomorrow, so I’ll decline. But thank you for the invitation.”
“Will you be back soon?” Etienne smiled. “I’m here for the duration, not that I’m complaining when I might have been in my grave instead.”
“You were fortunate indeed,” Darley noted. “As for my return, one never knows from day to day. My schedule is erratic with the war.”
“They’re lining up,” one of Etienne’s friends cried, and all eyes turned to the horses being brought up by the jockeys.
Remembering his manners, Etienne turned back and put his hand out to Darley. “Thank you for the use of your home,” he said. “I recuperated in great comfort thanks to you.”
“My pleasure,” Darley said, shaking his hand. “Stay healthy.”
“This far behind the lines, how can I not? You, on the other hand, are in constant danger.”
“I have good men with me. It’s quite safe,” Darley lied. “If you want to make a profitable wager, bet on Bashi and Pera in the fourth and fifth races. They’re my horses and winners both.”
Etienne grinned. “Done.” And turning to his friends he repeated Darley’s offer.
As the young men ran off to place their wagers, Aurore and Darley were left forgotten.
One brow raised, Aurore glanced at Darley. “Do I succumb to your manipulation as easily as everyone else?”
“On the contrary, you are highly suspicious of my designs.”
She smiled. “And yet intrigued.”
“We both are. I believe we came to an understanding on that point our first night in Sevastopol. Now, if you’ll allow me, I’ll endeavor to intrigue you further just as soon as we return to town.”
“To your house?”
“If it’s a problem, we could go somewhere else.”
“You have alternate sites for your amorous activities?”
“Tut, tut—that suspicious tone again. I only meant, I would find another location should you be uncomfortable with your servants in place.”
“Or yours.”
“My servants are completely amenable.”
Her gaze narrowed slightly at the intrinsic authority in his voice. “Why do I get this feeling that you are more than a trader?”
“I have no idea.” He grinned. “Dare I say, women are more imaginative?”
“Only if you mean it in both a singular and laudable way,” she retorted drolly.
“Naturally,” he murmured. “I applaud your imagination specifically. In fact, your very imaginative accomplishments filled my dreams in my absence from you.”
“Even in Eupatoria?” she waggishly queried.
He dipped his head. “Admittedly, even at times in Eupatoria. Discounting the obvious dangers in being distracted, the images of you were not only gratifying but cherished.”
She made a moue. “You are much too suave. I shouldn’t succumb to your flattery.”
“It’s not flattery, darling. It’s the truth.” Terrifying thought, but there it was when he’d not previously acknowledged the sobering fact that she had become more than a passing fancy. “Come now,” he added, determined not to travel down the path of candid revelations. He crooked his arm. “What time do you have to be at Helena’s?”
“Nine-ish. Dinner is at ten.” She twined her arm in his. “And you? When do you have to be at your dinner?”
“I confess I lied.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
He looked pained. “You don’t really think I was going to spend my only night in Simferopol at Helena’s dinner party.” He grinned. “After you sit through sixteen boring courses, perhaps I’ll join you then.”
“She might have an opera singer for entertainment afterward. Helena professes an interest in culture.”
“In that case, I might indeed come. When all eyes are on the fat lady, it will give us an opportunity to slip away.”
“You’d risk incurring Helena’s wrath?”
“I can handle her.”
“I do hope you meant that rhetorically. Otherwise I find the image highly disturbing.”
“Jealous?” he drawled.
“Of Helena—no. Of your facile and probably much used sexual skills, perhaps yes. Although I have no right, nor in truth any previous tendency to be so inclined.”
It unaccountably pleased him that she might be jealous in however small a way. It pleased him even more that he was the reason for her possible volte face. He had no idea why. He had less idea why he was beginning to think of her as his—an incredible notion from any number of aspects. “I’m going to have to steal a carriage somewhere,” he said, abruptly curtailing any further contemplation of so outre
a concept. “Or did you bring yours?”
“I did. You are saved from criminal activities.”
If only she knew, he thought. “Perhaps I can think of some way to thank you,” he murmured.
“I’m sure you can,” she purred.
Chapter 15
When they reached Aurore’s carriage, her driver was nowhere to be seen.
“I expect Safa is at the races.” Surveying the numerous parked carriages, Aurore took note of a servant lying on the seat of an open landau. With a wave, she called out to him, “Tell Safa I took the carriage!” She glanced at Darley. “Like my brother, Safa has a multitude of friends here. He won’t have any trouble finding a ride back into town.”
“Would you like me to drive?”
“If you wish. I’m quite competent though; you needn’t worry.”
“I was just being polite.”
“In that case,” she said with a smile, “be my guest.”
Reminded how fiercely she guarded her independence, Darley warned himself to not offend those sensibilities. “My compliments on your many talents,” he said with polished grace. “There are few women who can handle a team,” he added as he handed her up onto the driver’s bench.
“My parents were of the mind that a woman was capable of doing whatever a man could—obvious physical differences aside, of course,” she answered, taking in Gazi’s obvious and delightful differences as he walked around the horses’ heads to the off side of the carriage. “Etienne and I were raised very much alike—with the same tutors and lessons and responsibilities.”
“A commendable policy.” Repressing an impulse to say, I have sisters who were raised very much like you, Darley swung up onto the seat beside her. “I expect your parents were pleased with the result,” he said instead, unlooping the reins and urging the matched pair of grays forward with a soft command rather than with the reins. Horses were highly prized in the mountain tribes, a warrior’s bond with his horse often crucial in battle.
“I don’t know about that, but my parents wanted us to be self-sufficient. Those tendencies were fostered in part by my grandfather’s involvement in political dissident at one time.” She smiled faintly. “Grandpere escaped France just ahead of a lettre de cachet, Empress Catherine’s offer of land coming at an opportune time.”
“Your decided opinions are a family tradition then, and I mean that in the most flattering context,” he added with a grin.
“You’d better smile when you say that.” Her voice was sportive.
“Have I mentioned how much I like strong-willed women?”
“Lucky for you then that I was raised to believe in liberty, equality, fraternity,” she lightly replied, “concepts that put my family at odds occasionally with the local administrators. Justice frequently is dispensed with a heavy hand around here as you may know.”
“Particularly with the Tatars.”
She shot him a look. “You and your men have been unfavorably treated?” Although she still wasn’t sure whether he was Circassian or Tatar, their time together having been given over more to amorous sport than conversation.
“Some have tried,” he said quietly.
“And no one threatens your troop, I presume.”
“Not with impunity.”
“Dear me, should I take alarm?” Her blue eyes sparkled.
He laughed. “On the contrary. I am at great pains to please you.”
“How very nice,” she softly replied.
“Not as nice as your fresh-as-the-dew allure. Your tousled curls and freckled nose make you look eighteen. Although I hope like hell you aren’t.” The sudden thought was alarming.
“You needn’t frown like that. I am twenty-six; you are quite safe.”
She didn’t say from what and he didn’t ask, although his relief was obvious.
She smiled. “I gather you are not enamored of young misses?”
“Definitely not.”
“I don’t know if I should be resentful or flattered by your reply. Are you saying I’m old?”
“No, no…not in the least.”
“Tell me—what is it that you don’t like about young misses?” A woman’s question—personal and probing.
“Honestly?”
“If you please.”
How to answer when honesty was always a liability in the game of amour? “I’d say it’s the giggling.” Not the whole truth, but a legitimate complaint nonetheless.
“You prefer serious women.”
“I prefer women. Tell me, do you like young men?” The topic was too fraught with complications; he chose to turn the tables.
“Some.”
The casualness of her remark offended him. Without reason. Or at least not for any reason that bore close inspection. “How many might that be?” he unaccountably asked.
She looked up, took note of the twitch over his cheekbone, his clenched jaw and deliberately said, “Surely it doesn’t matter.”
It took him a moment to reply, but when he did he had regained his composure. More important, he was fully cognizant of the practicalities. “Forgive me for asking.”
“Certainly.”
You had to give her credit, he thought. She didn’t give anything away—an unusual trait in a woman. In his experience females were inclined to talk too much. “In any case, young women and men aside, may I say that I was hard-pressed not to toss you over my shoulder and carry you off the moment I saw you today. You have an extraordinary effect on me.”
“My heart stopped when I saw you.”
Both the sentiment and her frankness pleased him. “You don’t flirt,” he said, a note of appreciation in his voice.
“Cajole and simper you mean?”
He smiled. “Or cling and wheedle.”
“Perhaps I could do so if it would get me what I wanted,” she said waggishly.
“No, don’t. I like your candor.”
She smiled. “Even when I say, More, for the tenth time?”
He grinned. “Particularly when you say it for the tenth time.”
“We did rather get along.”
He laughed. “A vast understatement, darling.”
“With this sudden talk of orgasms, perhaps you could set my horses to a quicker pace. They are excellent in the traces.”
He immediately urged the horses to more speed, and soon the carriage was bowling down the road.
Aurore clung to the seat with both hands, enjoying the warm spring air rushing by her face, tossing her golden curls, the high speed and Gazi’s closeness making her pulse race from sheer exhilaration. Or perhaps anticipation.
“Feel free to hang on to my arm!” Darley shouted over the wind and the sound of galloping hoofs. “I won’t accuse you of being clingy!”
“I wouldn’t want to ruin my image!” Aurore shouted back, grinning.
“I would consider it an honor!”
She seized his arm in a fierce grip and they both felt a spinetingling jolt.
No longer caring whether her freedom was being subverted, she leaned into his hard muscled arm and felt an unalloyed pleasure.
Less poetically inclined, but equally moved, Darley considered only how much longer it would be until he was buried deep inside the lovely Miss Clement.
It was anticipation at its finest.
It was blinding desire.
The ardent intensity of either sentiment unusual for them both.
Very shortly, but too long for the two involved, the gateway to Darley’s house hove into view. The small estate, once a working farm, sat apart from the town on the rolling steppes.
“Hang on,” he shouted, approaching the driveway at high speed. Both horses performed beautifully, careening surefooted on the turn. He flashed Aurore a smile as they raced down the drive. “Great team!”
She could have said, Expert driving, but she only smiled. It couldn’t have been a more perfect day.
As it turned out, there were various degrees of perfection to come.
He carri
ed her into his house with both an effortless strength and a noblesse oblige indifference to their surroundings, his servants melting away before them. He carried her to his bedroom on the second floor, a room she’d seen only once before, having slept downstairs near Etienne.
Kicking the door shut behind them, he said with an instinctive courtesy, “Do you need anything?”
“Yes, I do.”
As if startled by the sound of her voice, he met her gaze and smiled—in recognition perhaps. “We both do. You don’t know how many times I’ve thought of this since last I saw you.”
She grinned. “We could compare numbers.”
“Or we could add up some other numbers,” he murmured, gently setting her on her feet. “Like say—orgasms.”
“Yes, yes, yes,” she cheerfully murmured, feeling as though she were suddenly alive again, feeling as though he had but to smile her way and she was lost to all reason. “Immediately, if you don’t mind,” she whispered, tossing a smile over her shoulder as she moved toward the bed.
He only smiled, the question not actually requiring an answer. “You have to be at Helena’s at nine?” Unbuckling his belt, he glanced at the clock on the wall as he followed in her wake.
“You have to come with me.” She was unbuttoning her bodice as she walked.
He groaned. “What if I don’t?” But even as he spoke, he knew he was willing to please her even in that miserable endeavor.
She turned to him as she reached the rustic bed. “I want you near me every minute until you have to leave. There, I have become as insufferably clingy as all the rest.”
“I don’t mind.” A stunning admission for a man who had spent years avoiding intimacy.
“Then you’ll come with me?” She slipped her dress down her arms.
“Don’t worry,” he murmured, taking pleasure in the sight of her bare shoulders as he kicked off his boots. “I’ll come with you as often as you wish.”
“Libertine. I mean to Helena’s.” Shoving the frothy muslin of her skirt upward, she pulled on the tie of her petticoat.
He shrugged. “Why not.”
She glanced up at him, her eyes alight. “Thank you, you darling man. I am absolutely giddy with happiness about that and everything else. Don’t ask me why. You do that to me. By the way, you are not allowed to look at another woman at Helena’s party.” As her petticoats fell to the floor, she kicked them aside.
At Her Service Page 11