The Bellerose Bargain

by Robyn Carr

  And with that, the last stronghold she claimed as her own tumbled down, for she had heard the words that made her heart give way. And then she felt his hardness slide up between her thighs and she pulled him closer. She would bind him to her, and then what he chose to do with her love would be left to his honor. She was, to all the world, his wife.

  "And can you let go, Geoffrey?" she whispered.

  "Nay," he moaned. "Nay, how can I? You’ve cast your spell."

  Ten

  Alicia stirred as she felt the warm presence leave her side. She opened her eyes to see that Geoffrey was putting another log on the fire, and she sighed contentedly. With a little shifting, she was able to take the cloak she lay upon and draw it over herself. As he turned back toward her, she lifted the cloak invitingly and he slid down on the mattress, taking her into his arms.

  "We are foolish," he said. "How long can the woman sleep so soundly?"

  "A little longer, I pray," she sighed, drawing him closer.

  "I would not have thought this haunted old trap could provide so much comfort on a cold night."

  "Ha! You give credit to the house!"

  "Come, wench, until we see the sunlight, do not taunt me. Give me ease of your complaints."

  She ran a finger around his ear and smiled at him. "I do not complain so much, Geoffrey."

  He had not conditioned himself to so much affection in one night, and for a brief moment he feared that it would be too much for a man who had lived, eaten, and slept mostly on the ship. But at the touch of her lips, and with the feel of her arms around his neck, he found he had more stamina than he had given himself credit for.

  Women were not strange to him, but the truth was that he had always worried so with his performance as a lover that he was somewhat intimidated by them. Something in the way Alicia responded to his touch fed his masculine pride and he could barely contain himself. She was someplace between his last enthusiastic whore and a vestal virgin. She was neither aggressive nor acquiescent. When his touch thrilled her, he heard her sigh. When he moved against her, she moaned softly. With his hands on her hips she moved with him. She made him master and slave.

  The urgency of lovemaking was gone, and he leisurely worked the buttons that went the length of her gown, laying it open to his gaze. His mouth tasted the sweetness of her skin and his senses were tuned to the texture and scent of her. While he believed he controlled her every quiver, something in him wondered if she perhaps controlled him.

  "What a witch you are, Alicia. You’ve taken possession of my soul. I cannot ever be without you."

  "And you need not, Geoffrey."

  "How could I think it?"

  "From too great a distance, I think."

  With his fingers woven into her hair and his body hovering over hers, he claimed her leisurely, moving carefully, slowly, until he had to cover her lips with his to cease her soft moans. He felt the power of the captain of a fleet, for he could moor her now, halt her, send her home, or take her to the sea.

  "Please..." she begged softly, and a low chuckle rose from his throat, for he was not the captain at all. The velvety softness of her and the sweetness of her breath had poisoned his will, and he could do nothing but end the agony of waiting. She made him feel powerful, a feeling he knew himself to need heavy doses of, but he was not in power at all. She held the power. He had, in their first coupling, tasted her ecstasy, and he knew he would not be satisfied unless he could feel that again. He held himself until he felt her trembling nearly out of control and then let himself match her.

  She lay quiet and pliant in his arms, her breathing even and shallow. Geoffrey had thought himself to be lucky in his encounters with women and he had indeed lain with experienced whores earlier in his manhood. But what had happened with Alicia had surpassed anything he had ever known. It did not occur to him that this was his first encounter with the emotion—love. He laughed to himself, for he thought he had had lovers, but no lover gave him the joy this woman did.

  The thought struck hard. Lover?

  He had not intended to make her his lover, though for a long time he had longed to touch her, hold her. And he’d held himself away from her because of the complications making love to her might involve. During those times he could not control his fantasies, he had been able at least to promise himself that he wouldn’t commit himself any further until he could see a way out of the tangled mess of lies he had begun.

  He moaned softly at his own discomfort, and Alicia moved trustingly nearer. The softness of her cheek was pressed against his lips and he wondered which would be worse: asking her to leave with her hundred pounds, or rotting in Newgate without her.

  But for the moment he could think of nothing but her presence and the comfort he felt in holding her near. With a sigh, he tightened his arms around her and joined her in sleep.

  At the first faint glow of dawn, Geoffrey jostled Alicia. "Madam," he beckoned. "Come, Charlotte..." Her eyes opened and she looked at him in some confusion. She had nearly forgotten that name existed. Geoffrey tilted his head in the direction of the sleeping servant, and Alicia smiled. "Clothe yourself, cherie," he whispered. "Before the others are upon us."

  Disappointment slowed her movements and her face formed a pretty pout. Nothing would please her more than to doze longer in the arms of her lover, but they’d spent their moment too publicly already, and she reluctantly pulled her clothes around her, her fingers lazily doing the buttons.

  "Madam, please," Geoffrey begged, giving assist with the buttons. Alicia’s soft laughter was his answer and he did more of the work of garbing her than she.

  He held up her cloak for her and helped her to her feet. She sighed as she pulled it around her and frowned as she looked around the room. There were no luxuries for nobles here; no dressing table, basin of hot water, or chamber pot. Alicia shrugged and resigned herself to the very chill outdoors.

  She lollygagged along the path, took her leisure in the convenience, and when she would have returned to the house, she found Geoffrey leaning against a tree, waiting for her. She smiled her appreciation and moved sleepily toward him. She did not recognize his tenseness.

  "Alicia," he fairly whispered, looking over his shoulder suspiciously. "I must apologize for last night. I am sorry."

  Her perplexed look caused his heart to plummet.

  "I had no right—and you tried to caution me when I would not hear you. It was not a part of our bargain."

  "No, it was not," she said evenly.

  "I should not have used you without...I should have given greater thought to...That is, I was taken with your softness and the brandy and—"

  "Pish," she said, stopping him. "That is not what you said."

  "I know I spoke words of love and made promises that I’m not sure I can keep. I beg your forgiveness. I would have you forget—"

  "What are you telling me?" she questioned, her ire raised. "That you lied to me?"

  He scuffed a foot in the dirt and cursed himself for having woven yet another web for himself. "They did not feel like lies."

  "But in the morning, is that what your words have become? Lies?"

  He could not look at her. "Aye, I said words I was not sure I felt and made promises I am not sure I can keep. I promise you this in sound mind; it will not happen again."

  He looked at her and saw her eyes darken. Anger was etched into her delicate features. "What did you expect would happen?" he asked her. "Did you expect this could go on?"

  "Aye," she answered. "And why not? If that is what we both want, to be wed and to carry on, why not?"

  "Of course, you would expect such, what have you to lose? You do not risk your fortune or your title. You have everything to gain if we never end this—this arrangement."

  "Lord Seavers," she whispered in barely controlled rage, "what will I gain by allowing this arrangement to go on? A life as an impostor, with the world about to come down on my head at any moment? The constant worry that fear will force us to separate and pl
an a ‘death’ to relieve the threat of being imprisoned? Aye, I could play this charade forevermore, and when there are children, I could be forced away from them for fear of exposure."

  "Then you agree—it is foolish to—"

  "I agree that it is foolish! Coming to London was the most foolish thing I’ve ever done. For now, when there is risk, you think that you alone—" She stopped and let out a heavy sigh and looked at him in the most complete frustration. She thought he had come to a decision; a time of knowing what he wanted. "You are the most complete fool."

  When he looked into her eyes, he felt for a moment like a small boy looking into his mother’s eyes. A few hours earlier he had felt like the most powerful man in the world and he hated to let go of that feeling. Rebellion rose within him. "I hope you are not hurt," he said rather tersely.

  "You are finished with me, then?" she asked caustically.

  "I will keep my word, but I will not be bound to a woman now."

  "And I will hold you to your word. You will not touch me again."

  She lifted her skirts and took long, quick steps into the manor house, tears stinging her eyes.

  Oaf! Beggar! Thief! Bastard! Her mind railed on and on. Passion in the nighttime and cold calculating indifference in the morning. But she stopped short as she arrived in the room where their coupling had occurred. She moved slowly to the feather tick and dropped to her knees to touch the place where they had slept.

  "I pressed him for promises and words of love he was not ready to make," she reminded herself. "And now he would have me believe it was lust and brandy that brought him to me. And harden yourself, heart, for his ships are his love and he may never be ready. He warned me that this was only for now, and now—the moment has passed."

  She heard his footsteps and turned to see him standing behind her. Tears coursed down her cheeks. She turned away.

  The sight of her tear-stained face ripped through Geoffrey’s heart. He wanted to run to her, take her in his arms, and beg her to be patient, he would find a way to ensure their future so that they might never again live with fear. But he found himself afraid to comfort her with those words. He was afraid he might fail to find a way to safely keep her.

  He moved toward her slowly and lowered himself to kneel on the floor behind her. He rubbed her upper arms with his hands. "You will not feel this hurt for long, cherie. I promise."

  She sniffed back her tears and straightened her back.

  "Tell me you do not love me, Geoffrey."

  He sighed and struggled for the words. "What matter love, Alicia? That I love you enough to buy you the moon and the stars would matter little if the king locks us both away. That I love you beyond the value of every ship England owns would buy neither of us freedom from the charge of treason against the crown." He used a finger to turn her face that she might see his eyes. "If I tell you I love you, Alicia, it will not change the fact that our bargain could turn on us at any time and devour whatever love we thought ours."

  She stared at him with angry eyes, her pupils sharp as pinpoints. "I pray you take care with what you so carelessly claim and throw away. One day you will regret that you are not a man who knows his mind."

  The coach was loaded with baggage and the group made ready to depart, their visit to Bellerose cut short by days because of the condition of the manor. Alicia sat within the coach with her cloak pulled tight, a veil from her hat covering her face. She pulled back the drape from the window of the coach, and tears gathered in her eyes as she looked at the disheveled building and overgrown lawns.

  As she looked at the manor through a veil, she thought how she had looked at her life through a similar veil. She had allowed all of her needs and desires to seem real and attainable without considering they would not mesh with what Geoffrey needed for his life.

  "A woman with blood in her name; a family that is known, whether they be dead or alive." She sighed heavily as she considered that the Tilden name would do nicely now, but for the fact that it pointed her out to be no relation whatever to Fergus Bellamy. That would not sit well with the king. Being a Tilden now would not help her secure a true marriage to Geoffrey.

  She saw him mount his horse and raise an arm to the driver, and the coach gave a lurch. Pity it is ships he loves to ride, when he looks so dashing astride…Her mind wandered. Ah, dear Geoff, poor man. You love so well and such fruits of passion spill from your lips when you are caught in love’s spell, but you cannot see it through. And what are the chances, dear man, that you’ll stumble upon a woman with beauty, passion, family name, money, and a devotion to you? She chuckled at her thoughts. Alicia Tilden, perhaps, should you ever be fortunate enough to make her acquaintance.

  And then the tear fell from her eye because she knew more of Geoffrey than he gave her credit for. She knew he had not lied to her as he loved her, but simply couldn’t bear the responsibility of his words and actions.

  She had considered the many ways she could pursue him, make it easy for him to claim her. But all that she really wanted from Geoffrey was to be claimed for the person she was; love not hinged on jealousy, blooded ancestors, dower lands, or a successful seduction.

  Again she pulled back the drape and her eyes found her lord, his cloak blowing in the wind and his hat pulled down over his brow. I will not fix it for you, dear Geoff, she silently pledged. You are almost everything I need in a man. But you are not wise. She sighed. Even with your courtly upbringing and fine manners and reputation as a grand warrior, a simple tavern wench could teach you lessons in life that you’ve gone this far without learning.

  She let the curtain drop and leaned back into the velvet seat. She knew that Geoffrey had a very short time to come to terms with what he felt for her. If the decision to claim her was not his and his alone, she could never trust him. If he would not risk one farthing now, what would he wager to keep his fortune in the future? He needed to learn that the joys in life would be more plentiful when riches were a little less important.

  Nothing about her life had ever had any sense of permanence. Over and over again she’d been cast aside, pushed out, sent on her way. And over and over again she had survived.

  She would give Geoffrey a little time, but not a lifetime. And when the time for her to go was upon her, she would know it. With her hundred pounds, she would move along yet another time, and she knew she would not lose hope. And someday, she told herself, when the time is right and there is no need to fear the king’s wrath, I will present myself to the Tildens. Even though she couldn’t count on permanence there, it was not too late to know them.

  The coach slowed to a stop and the door was opened. Geoffrey looked in at her, though he could not make out her features behind her veil. "Are you comfortable, madam?"

  "Aye, milord."

  "We’ll be stopping in the village where it will take some time to try to find workers I can hire for Bellerose."

  She gave her head a slight nod.

  "I think we’ll travel a bit farther for a room for the night. There is little protection along this road and I’d prefer to see you housed in a safe place."

  "Worry not, milord," she said, lifting her veil and looking deeply into his eyes. "I assure you, I’m quite accustomed to taking risks."

  His eyes narrowed as he felt the jibe, but said nothing. He closed the door and saw the coach jerk into motion again. He held his horse back and watched for a moment as the coach preceded him. He continued to frown. "Patience, Alicia," he said to the departing coach. "If you will just be patient, perhaps there is a way I can minimize your risks."

  Work at both the wharves and at Bellerose kept Geoffrey away from his house on Tiller Street most of the time. He made token visits to assess that all was going smoothly, but he did not stay.

  On one such visit, he brought a package for Alicia. She opened it to find a beautiful necklace of sapphires, set in gold filigree among tiny diamonds. She gasped at the sight of it. "It was found in a hidden safe at Bellerose and must surely have belonged to a B
ellamy woman some years back. The jeweler was able to clean and repair it."

  "And would you like me to wear it?" she asked.

  "Certainly. Don’t you like it?"

  "It’s lovely," she said softly.

  He lingered for a while, questioned her about her activities, and inquired if there was anything she needed. And though she answered him politely and asked him about his ships and the manor, his tenseness was increasing and she couldn’t say why. Finally it erupted. "Do you hate the necklace I brought you? Is there some flaw or scar on the piece?"

  "It’s perfectly beautiful," she answered in confusion.

  "Why, in heaven’s name, don’t you thank me?" he stormed.

  "You mean, it’s mine?" she asked.

  "I gave it to you!" he blustered.

  "I didn’t know that." She smiled. "Thank you."

  "Didn’t know? How could you not know?"

  "I thought you’d made the gift to Charlotte," she informed him. "And, of course, Charlotte would wear it and then, one day, leave it behind. But if it is mine..."

  He scowled blackly. He looked around to be certain they were alone and then let his gaze bear down on her. "This business of speaking of two women, Charlotte and Alicia, is enough to make any man wild. I have given the necklace to you, whichever name you might be wearing. No matter who you are when you wear it, it is yours!"

  She smiled softly into his eyes. "Thank you, milord. It is precious to me."

  "By damn, you insist on punishing me. You will respond to me with warmth only when I address you as Alicia, and when I use the name you are to wear, you treat me coldly. I don’t know how I am to face you."

  "I think you do the very best you can, milord," she said with a smile, turning away from him and going to the dressing table to fit the necklace around her neck. He moved behind her to help with the clasp. "I do love the necklace, Geoffrey," she said, meeting his eyes in the mirror. "And when we are far apart and no longer know each other, I will treasure this as part of the memory."

  She saw him wince slightly.