by Shirl Henke
“Certainly not,” Abigail said firmly. “You are my guest, my dear, and this young rascal shan’t spoil our coze.”
“Mother—”
“Robert.” Her abrupt interruption was flat.
The glacial tone and flashing eyes were warning signs that Rob normally would never have ignored, but this was not a normal situation. “I could not help but overhear your last words to the widow as I approached the door.”
“Eavesdropping.” Abigail tsked, shaking her head, primed for battle.
“I do believe the door was a slight bit ajar,” Amber interjected, waiting to see if he required her help. Let the beautiful devil sweat a bit.
“You have placed Mrs. Leighigh in a most untenable position, Mother. She is still in full mourning and our association has been quite brief, and of a political, not social nature. It is far too soon for a discussion of remarriage, as I am certain the lady will concur.” He turned to Fantasia.
Amber inclined her head in agreement, but Abigail was not to be put off. “Did you not tell me that your first marriage had been so unhappy that you vowed never again to wed?” Without waiting for a reply, she continued. “I know you would not find my son to be such a brute, although he can at times be a bit dense.” She smiled sweetly at him.
Rob noted the wry twist of Fantasia’s lips. She is enjoying this! “I will be the first to admit that I am no paragon, but that does not mean I require you to select a woman and then coerce her into marrying me.”
Amber placed her hand on Abigail’s, saying, “I know that you had no such intention, Abigail, and I am most honored that you consider me worthy to be your daughter-in-law, but the earl is correct in saying that we have known each other only a short while. Now, I truly must go. Thank you so much for your gracious hospitality,” she added as she squeezed the older woman’s hand.
Abigail held it for a moment, saying, “We shall continue this conversation at a later time.” Then she winked at Amber and released her hand.
Rob assisted Fantasia with her chair as she stood up. “If I may, Mrs. Leighigh, it would be my pleasure to escort you to your carriage.”
Abigail watched Rob and Amber descend the stairs and walk out the door. Once they were outside, she noted the way their heads drew closer as they held a whispered conversation. “What I would give to hear that exchange!” she murmured.
“I fear your mother intends to pursue the crackbrained idea of our marriage,” Amber said.
Rob chuckled grimly. “Once she makes her mind up, there is no deterring her.” He paused, then surprised himself by asking, “Do you really think it’s a crackbrained idea?”
“M’lord! Have you taken leave of your senses—a woman from the House of Dreams marrying a peer!” She stopped abruptly and looked up into those cool green eyes, trying to read what lay behind them.
“Has anyone seen your face or do they know your identity—any of the current patrons or men you…” His voice trailed off as he tried to find a way to phrase what he wanted to ask.
Amber understood his meaning and it was like a slap to her face. “I have never had a patron,” she said coldly, knowing that he would not believe her.
“Then how did you become Lady Fantasia?” He cocked his head and studied her stiff posture, wishing desperately to see behind the veil that she had replaced before leaving his mother’s parlor.
“I will not dignify that question with an answer, one you would never believe in any case. Let us not waste any more of each other’s time.” When she started to walk away, he placed his hand on her arm to restrain her. She felt a frisson of heat travel up her spine. Must his touch always leave me this way?
“Fantasia, wait. I am making another muddle just as I did the first night we met. I did not intend to insult you…it’s just that I have felt on a few recent occasions that there was some…spark between us,” he said, knowing he was fumbling awkwardly.
Amber’s throat thickened with unshed tears. Oh, my love, if only you knew your spark is my flame! She swallowed and did the only thing she could think to do—lash out. “What of the spark between you and Gabrielle? She is your lover, not I.” Liar. Her words had the desired effect. He dropped his hand as if burned and bowed curtly.
Just then her carriage pulled up and Boxer jumped off the driver’s seat. Without a backward glance, Amber climbed aboard and they drove away. Neither she nor Rob saw Abigail at the upstairs window, watching the scene unfold. She smiled quietly and let the curtain fall back in place, shaking her head. Young people could be so foolish. Sometimes they required help sorting out important matters.
The following morning a post arrived for Abigail from Kent, informing her that her middle daughter, Diana, whose baby was not expected for another fortnight, had just given birth. Both mother and the little boy were doing well. With such joyous news, Abigail knew she must leave immediately, in spite of the unfinished task of bringing Robert and Amber to their senses.
Rob arranged for his best sprung carriage and a driver to take his mother home. After promising that he would return to the country as soon as the current session of Parliament ended, he waved farewell to her with profound relief. That left him alone, rattling about in the big city house. Although he had much work to do before the end of the session, Rob found himself unable to concentrate.
All he could think of was his angry parting with Fantasia…and his guilt about Gaby. The madam had been right to reprimand him. He was still plagued by the same dilemma, brought into even sharper focus because of his mother’s meddling. Fantasia would, on the surface of it, make the perfect countess, but the gentle Gaby was the keeper of his darkest secrets, his confidante, his teacher. He wanted to have both women and knew he could have neither.
So he did what he must. He sent a note to Gaby, telling her that his mother had returned home and he would like to see her that night. Would he tell her good-bye? Should he pay Fantasia what was owed and end their association? As his carriage lurched through the foggy night, Rob honestly had no idea what he would do.
When Amber received his note, she was shaken, uncertain if she could pretend to be Gabrielle any longer. Every time she came to him in darkness, it grew more difficult to deceive him. But the hunger he had awakened in her could not be denied. Like a sleepwalker, she went to the secluded chamber, wondering if this would be the final journey. “Far wiser to end it,” she murmured to herself as she slipped out of her robe and opened the door.
If he would not do it, she would…after one last night in his embrace.
Rob heard her, smelled her soft lilac perfume, and felt an odd combination of lust and sadness assault his senses. “Gaby,” he said hoarsely, reaching for her. At the same time she reached out to him and their bodies entwined in the dark. Their hands caressed while their mouths met hungrily.
Both of them sensed despair in their desire and grew even more voracious because of it. He reached down and cupped her derierre. With her arms clutching his broad shoulders, she instinctively raised her legs, wrapping them around his hips while he backed her against the door. She could feel his hard staff pressing against her mound. He could feel the wet heat of her, opening in invitation. She gave one wriggling twist of her hips to position him.
He thrust.
They gasped in unison, clutching each other tightly, riding hard and fast, kissing feverishly. Her hand raked through his hair, clenching a lock until it stung his scalp, but he felt no pain. He slammed into her as she arched to meet every plunge, her wet flesh clenching to hold him, loath to release him for yet another time. She felt his face buried against her neck where it met her shoulder, his teeth nipping at the tender flesh, but she felt no pain.
When she pressed her back against the door, his hardness started a sudden violent culmination rippling outward from deep within her. She cried out his name, shaking like a sapling in a summer storm. As his staff swelled even larger, stretching her, the spasms of blinding ecstasy swept over him. Within a moment, everything exploded…and he stood wit
h her in his arms. They were both spent, panting, unable to speak.
Holding her, he walked to the bed with their bodies still joined. Placing one knee on the mattress, he laid her down gently and followed, covering her. He raised his upper body, leaning on one elbow, then ran his other hand over her breasts and up to her face. Cupping her chin, he traced his fingertips over her lips, nose, cheeks, eyelids, and brows.
“You are so lovely, Gaby.” His mouth followed his hand, kissing her softly.
She could hear the sadness in his voice and knew that this would be their last night. A pang stabbed at her heart and she fought the tears thickening her throat. I intended to end it. Why am I crying? Gabrielle drew his head down to hers and kissed him with a slower, softer passion, murmuring endearments as he responded in the same manner.
“You are saying good-bye, my brave major.” When he started to protest, she pressed her hand to his lips. “It is all right. I understand. This is how the Fates intended it to be. I am grateful for the time we have had…far more than grateful, for you have taught me so much.”
“You have been the teacher, Gaby,” he said in a husky voice. “Not I.”
“We taught each other, I think, neither of us knowing quite what to do…both wishing to please…and in so doing, being pleased.” She gave a small, sad laugh.
“Oh, Gaby, I will not desert you to spend your life in this place—I—”
“No, no. You are not the kind of man who takes a wife and keeps a mistress. I know you too well. I would never ask it…or wish it. This matter has been explained to me. I understand.”
“But you cannot remain here. I will not let you become a courtesan,” he said firmly.
She could hear the anguish in his voice and knew she must find a way to let him extricate himself. “I will not remain here, my Rob, but return to France. Our king has restored our family’s estates to my cousin Jean Claude, with whom I was raised. Lady Fantasia sent agents who found him. I will have my life returned to me…and you will begin a new one here in England.”
He caressed her face, trying to gauge the truthfulness of her words. “You are certain…?”
“Yes, I am certain. But before we go our separate ways, there is this…”
His reply was muffled by her mouth. As he returned the caress, their kisses were no longer swift and desperate, but slow and gentle this time. He whispered her name like a prayer. How could he bear to see her go? The thought fled as her cunning tongue insinuated itself delicately into his mouth. His twined with it and the kiss went on, their lips moving over each other’s faces, exploring every nuance. She pressed a puckered nip at the corner of his mouth, causing him to smile. He rimmed her lips with the tip of his tongue and felt her return the smile.
Her hands glided over his back, nails brushing powerful muscles. She could feel his erection hardening once more. Pressing her palms against his chest, she whispered, “This time we do not rush, yes?”
“There is all night…” He felt her soft fingertips thread through the hair on his chest, her palm press against the steady thrum of his heartbeat. To whom did his heart belong? Her? Fantasia? Or, impossibly, both at once? He did not know, nor at this moment, would he think of that. He would think of nothing but pleasing his lovely lady of darkness whose face he would never see, pleasing her for one last time.
“Your hair is like silk…your skin like satin,” he murmured as he ran his fingers through the fragrant tangles of her long tresses and glided his hand over the curve of her hip. He memorized every curve, touched the soft skin of her concave belly, and placed his little finger inside her navel until she gasped with delight. When he cupped a breast and circled his thumb around the nipple, she moaned softly.
They made unspoken vows with their hands, mouths. Their bodies remained intimately joined as they exchanged murmurs of delight and warmly flowing passion, rushing nothing, exploring everything, each sensation, each response etched in their souls, treasures…perhaps one day to be brought out in dreams to lighten dreary times ahead.
When they finally resumed intercourse, it was spontaneously mutual. Both moved slowly, prolonging the gliding, glistening pleasure that danced between them. They knew each other’s responses so well that every nuance of breathing, touching, feeling communicated to each other what was desired. Go slower. Move faster. Then slower once more.
The climb was steep yet not arduous. With every stroke they rose toward the towering heights as one. When the final culmination blossomed, it was incredibly like the petals of a flower unfolding in spring sunlight. She felt her whole body quiver. He knew he trembled uncontrollably. They floated back to earth gradually, holding each other tightly, speechless, breathless.
Wordlessly, he drew her to his side and pulled the covers over them. They slept for several hours, then made love again. Although the heavy velvet draperies were drawn tightly closed, Amber awakened with the faintest hint of light. Soon it would be sufficient for him to recognize her. It was time to leave…
“Good-bye, my Rob. I shall always love you,” she mouthed, then slipped from the bed as he stirred, vanishing through the door before he came fully awake. Any words exchanged after this would be between the earl and Lady Fantasia. She went to prepare for the inevitable.
As the door closed, Rob sat up in bed, shaking his head. He felt drugged by their passion and its even more incredibly gentle aftermath. The bed was empty, but he could feel the warmth where her slim body had lain, feel its heat lingering against his skin. The scent of lilacs hung suspended in the air like a promise…but it was a farewell.
Had he only imagined the words of love? Or had she spoken directly to his heart before slipping away? The dawn gave him no answer.
Chapter Seventeen
Amber spent the following day in her quarters, refusing visitors, even Grace and Jenette. A note arrived that afternoon from the earl. He requested permission to meet with her and settle his financial obligations. Steeling herself, she wrote a terse reply, asking him to come the following morning. Saying good-bye once as Gabrielle had been incredibly painful. Being forced to do so twice was cruel beyond bearing. Yet it must be done. She had no choice.
“At least I shall have time enough to repair myself,” she said, glancing at the oval mirror hanging on her bedroom wall. The face staring back at her was chalky pale. Her eyes were red-rimmed with dark smudges beneath them. Biting her lip, she vowed that he would not see her this way. Lady Fantasia must appear to possess a firm, serene confidence. There could be no hiding behind a veil or in shadows this time.
At last she rang for a bath and had a good long soak, applying cold compresses to her ravaged face as she laid her head back in the tub. Finally satisfied that she had done all possible to repair her body, she called Bonnie and requested a dinner tray. Facing Grace and Jeni over the dinner table would have to wait until Rob was well and truly gone. The roasted pork and spring vegetables tasted like ashes to her, but she forced down as much as she could.
Before retiring that night, she took a sleeping draught, something she discouraged any of the courtesans from doing, and never did herself. Tossing and turning fitfully would only leave her in an even more vulnerable state when Barrington arrived.
The day dawned bright and sunny as if mocking her black mood. She selected a dress of buttercup yellow, determined to put on a bright facade for the meeting. Bonnie brushed her hair until it glowed with a deep cherry luster, then arranged it in a smooth chignon at the crown of her head. She wore a simple gold chain around her throat and matching gold earrings.
“Ya look lovely, m’lady,” the girl said when Amber stood before the floor-length glass by her dressing table, inspecting her appearance.
She did not feel lovely, but smiled at Bonnie. “Thank you. Please bring me a pot of coffee and give my regrets to Mrs. Winston and Mademoiselle Beaurivage. I have little appetite this morning but will join them for luncheon. The serving maid bobbed her head and left. Barrington was scheduled to arrive at nine. She prayed he
would be punctual as was his normal habit.
At the precise hour, she heard his voice down the hallway. When he knocked on the door, she took a moment to compose herself. Shoving away the ledgers she had been attempting to work on, she said, “Please come in, m’lord.”
Rob looked haggard but had dressed carefully in a black kerseymere jacket and white cravat. The severe clothing only served to make him more handsome than any toff in embroidered finery ever could hope to be. He cleared his throat and said, “Good morning, Lady Fantasia…or should I say, Mrs. Leighigh?”
“Never speak that name again,” she snapped, then could have bitten her tongue. “Please forgive me. I did not intend to be rude, but…the name could pose a danger to me if bandied around.”
Her words were stiff, almost terrified. More of the mystery of her past, the past she refused to speak of. Well enough. He had no right to ask. “You have my word, I will never use it again. Now…” He cleared his throat once more. “I appreciate your agreeing to see me today. I assume Gabrielle has told you…”
“Yes, she has explained that your lessons are complete. You are to be congratulated, m’lord. We agreed upon a sum that was…rather exorbitant. But you have proven such an apt pupil that Gabrielle has prevailed upon me not to hold you to it.”
He watched in amazement as she tore up the contract he had signed the night she explained about Gaby. “No, that is, I—”
“We are quits, Barrington,” she said with a tight smile. “All is well,” she added more gently. “Please give your mother my regards and explain that I have retired to the country to live in seclusion. I regret any hurt I may have caused her.”
Rob nodded woodenly, hoping that he could forestall his mother temporarily, still quite uncertain about what he himself wanted to do about Fantasia. “I shall convey your good wishes to her…but there is another matter…” He began pacing as he reached into his pocket and extracted a bank draft, almost crumpling it in his haste. Then he spun around and extended it to her.