Stages of Desire

by Julia Tagan

  William nodded. She was in high spirits and her cheeks were flushed. She’d had some wine as well.

  “I don’t feel so well.” Martin had joined Freddie in staring down the precipice and now staggered back from the balustrade, clutching his stomach.

  “Either someone drank several glasses of ale this evening, or you don’t like heights,” said Freddie. “Which is it, boy?”

  “Heights,” he answered. “Don’t like heights.”

  “Come on then, I’ll take you back. As long as you don’t retch on me.”

  He gave his sister a quick kiss on the cheek and the two disappeared into the stairwell.

  Miss Farley leaned back on her elbows on the wide stone ledge. She’d taken off her vest after the performance, and William couldn’t help but notice how the thin shirt strained against her breasts. It was indecent, yet captivating.

  “So, my lord, has your time on the stage awakened the possibility that theater is not to be scoffed at?”

  “I have to admit, there is a surge of power at having an audience listen to your every word. No matter how stilted those words may be.”

  “You did a fine job, for an amateur.”

  “Warwick told me in no uncertain terms I needed more study.” The light from the stars and moon cast a glow over the hills, and the sound of the river gurgled up from below. For the first time in a long while, he was at peace. Whether due to the unexpected camaraderie or the copious amounts of alcohol, he’d stopped worrying about the past or fretting about the future. If only for one night. “I have to admit, it was an interesting experience.”

  “Interesting?” She sauntered over and stood next to him. “So you’re going to become one of the Farley Players?”

  “Can you imagine what Lady Marianne would have to say about that?” He meant it as a joke, but the moment he mentioned her name he wished he could take it back.

  “I promise I’ll never breathe a word of it.” Her tone grew serious.

  “Thank you, Miss Farley.”

  “But do you agree that art brings value to the world?”

  “Art cannot cure disease.”

  “No, it can’t prevent disease or death. But it makes life so much richer, don’t you think?”

  “I supposed. In a puerile way.” He couldn’t help himself.

  “You won’t admit it has merit, will you?”

  He breathed in her scent, a mixture of fresh grass, red wine and something sweet, like lilac. The memory of their earlier kiss came back to him and he wondered what it would be like to kiss her more deeply, to touch her skin, and run his fingers through her hair. Although he’d scoffed at his brother’s libertine ways, he had to admit he’d missed the touch of a woman since he’d assumed the title.

  Now his brother was dead, as was his father. William wasn’t yet engaged. Why couldn’t he have this woman? In the past twenty-four hours, he’d narrowly escaped from a fire and had walked for miles. Didn’t he deserve to get what he desired?

  He reached over and put his hand on her cheek. She didn’t move at first, then her eyelids fluttered and her breathing slowed to match his. A surge of power ran through him, of being able to take what he craved.

  Their kiss began much like the one onstage, soft and chaste, his hands lightly grasping her arms. She pulled back, resisting him, and for a moment he reconsidered. But the wry look in her eyes suggested teasing, not retreat, and further fueled his desire. He kissed her again, his tongue reaching deeper. She moaned and wrapped her arms around his waist. She was tall enough he didn’t have to stoop, her body strong, and he wanted to feel every inch of her, trace every curve.

  He pulled her hips close. Her body fit perfectly against his pelvis and his heat pressed against hers. When he reached down and cupped her maidenhood, shockingly available to his touch without the usual layers of petticoats and skirts, she stiffened, then uttered the slightest sigh of surrender. She’d been running the show ever since Chipping Norton and now he would prove that he was truly in control, make her cry out in pleasure.

  He yanked the shirttails out of her breeches. Undressing a woman from a man’s shirt was a great deal easier than struggling with a complicated gown and stays, though the whole idea was slightly perturbing. “I’ve never undressed a man before.”

  “You’re doing quite well, considering.”

  He lifted her shirt over her head and let it fall on the stone floor. She was exquisite. Her breasts were round and firm, the nipples pointing slightly upward and the color of coral. He traced the silhouette of her body with his fingers, from the outside of each breast down to her tapered waist. “You’re beautiful.”

  She trembled in response.

  “Are you cold?” he asked.

  “No. Now you.”

  He lifted his shirt over his head and tossed it on the floor near hers. She ran her fingertips tentatively over his chest and one side of her mouth raised up in a crooked smile. “You’ve got an awful lot of muscle for being the intellectual sort.”

  “I was quite athletic at school.”

  “I can tell. You spent more time on the playing fields than studying the classics, I know that much.”

  “I preferred bashing heads in person during a boxing match to reading about wars and violence in books. Much more satisfying.” He playfully caught a handful of her hair in a fist. “The pleasure of the physical.”

  She gasped and a ripple of heat radiated down his body. He trailed one hand to her breast and gently pinched her nipple. She cried out with pleasure, and he increased the pressure.

  He wanted to feel her breasts against his bare skin. Kissing her deeply, he pulled her toward him and received his reward, her nipples like hard pebbles. He had to make love to her. No one would know, it wouldn’t matter, and he could inhabit this exquisite creature and be one with her. He’d never desired anything so much, to be carried away by the scent of lilacs and her silken touch, her soft skin and yielding lips.

  Her breeches were not as easily removed, and he fumbled on the buttons. As if coming out of a dream, she placed her hands on his and looked up at him in panic.

  “No, I can’t.” Harriet abruptly pulled away. She reached down, picked up her shirt, and held it to her chest.

  He took a couple of unsteady steps back. He’d had too much wine and had overstepped the boundaries of decency. But he still wanted her.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She turned away and scrambled back into her shirt. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure what I was thinking. I can’t do this to Marianne and Her Grace. I’ve already lost one family. I can’t lose another.”

  She was right. What they were doing would have been unimaginable in London. But they weren’t in town and for some reason out here in the night air the rules no longer applied. He must possess this talented, enticing woman, even if it was for only one night.

  “No one need know.”

  She glared at him. “I am not someone to be played with. No matter what you think of my family’s profession, I do have some dignity.”

  “I’m not playing with you.” His words lacked conviction. He had come this close to making love with the woman who was practically a sister to Marianne. What had he been thinking?

  “It’s not fair,” she said. “To Marianne, most of all.”

  Before he could respond, she turned and disappeared down the stairs. He waited until the clattering of her footsteps faded before slowly winding his own way down, one worn tread at a time.

  Chapter 8

  Harriet kept her distance from William the next morning and made sure to choose a different mode of transportation to Birmingham than he.

  She and Freddie rode upon an enormous wagon lent by a local livery owner who’d been one of Lord Warwick’s guests the night before. They were loaded down with set pieces, including reams of cloth for backdrops provided by a Stratford-upon-Avon
draper, while ahead Toby and William rode atop a similar wagon packed with costumes. Much further up the road, Martin, Miss Entwhistle, Mrs. Kembler, and Adam barreled away in a fancy carriage lent by Lord Warwick himself.

  Toby appeared to be talking non-stop to William, who nodded his head every so often. Her brother, on the other hand, was uncharacteristically taciturn, which gave her time to think.

  Last night she and William had drunk too much, and it was best the episode be forgotten. William wasn’t the man for her, no matter how well he kissed or how good his hands felt around her waist.

  In the moment, she’d been stunned by her carnality, how it had erupted within her like a volcano. His eagerness had fed her own cravings. Only when he’d reached for her breeches did she come to her senses. No matter how sensual the curve of his lip or tempting the taste of his skin, he was no different from his late brother. A quick fling with an actress, that was all he’d been hoping for.

  She resolved to have nothing more to do with him.

  “What’s with your earl?” asked Freddie.

  She was aghast at his choice of subject, and his phrasing. “What on earth do you mean? He’s not my earl.”

  “What about the kiss onstage, the way you two are always looking at each other?”

  She wasn’t sure if he was teasing or angry. Freddie had seemed edgy this morning, and they’d gotten a late start due to his fiddling about.

  “The kiss was part of the scene.”

  He flicked the reins. “Shakespeare didn’t write that part. I know that much. Perhaps you use a different folio than I.”

  His needling irked her. “Lord Abingdon is to marry Lady Marianne.”

  “Then why isn’t he in London wooing her?”

  She sighed. “He and my guardian are worried I’ll stain Marianne’s good name, and thereby his.”

  “As if your dressing as a man and gallivanting around the countryside hasn’t done it already?”

  “As long as no one in London finds out. I’ve promised him I’ll return to the city once Father is out of trouble.”

  They rode along in silence for a while. The forest grew thicker and darker and Harriet could barely make out patches of blue sky above her. Ancient oak trees stretched up and out, enveloping the road on all sides, like a verdant tunnel. She breathed in the smell of warm, moist earth and promised herself she’d remember the scent when she returned to her old life, no matter how overwhelming the city’s odors became.

  “How much money does Lord Abingdon have?”

  His directness was too much. “Freddie! I don’t know. And it doesn’t matter.”

  “He’s practically your brother-in-law, right?”

  The idea irritated her. “I don’t think they’re engaged quite yet.” She didn’t add she was the reason for the delay.

  “How’s your arm healing?” she asked, hoping to change the subject.

  “It’ll be fine. It stung some this morning but your earl changed the bandage and the pain’s subsided.”

  “You were so brave, back at Adam’s.”

  His face briefly twisted into a grimace. “Say, I have an idea. Why don’t you ask Lord Abingdon for the money to pay Father’s debt? I’ll take it up to Birmingham and you and he can get back to your fancy London friends. This silly business will be over and done with.”

  “He’s already offered and I turned him down. They want a show up in Birmingham, not money.”

  Freddie’s voice was gruff. “Money solves everything, you should know that by now.”

  “You’re awfully cynical.”

  “And you are unrealistic. Accept the fact the Farley Players are finished. Get Father out of debt and we’ll carry on with our lives. There’s no need to put on a show, we’ve been through enough.”

  “How can you say such a thing?”

  “Look, Harry. You’re living in a dream world. You don’t know how difficult the past few years have been. I’m tired of this life, and so is Father. That’s why he’s been drinking so much. It’s exhausting, having to charm and cajole money out of tight-fisted dukes and earls. It’s no different from the life of a beggar. I can’t do it anymore. I want to do something else.”

  “What else would you do?”

  “I’ll start my own business. I’ll move to London.” His fist holding the reins clenched, as if he were barely holding in his anger, and the horses threw back their heads in irritation. “You had an easy life, so you take for granted the things we have to work hard for. Warmth, clothing, food. The basics. Year after year.”

  “I didn’t choose to leave. Father sent me away.”

  “I would have traded places with you, if I could.”

  His mouth set in a grim line. What had happened to her silly, fun-loving brother?

  “I’m sorry, Freddie, I am.”

  “Don’t get your hopes up. You’ll see when we get there. It’s over. ‘That is the true beginning of our end.’”

  “Midsummer Night’s Dream, act five, scene one.”

  He slowly nodded his head. “You certainly are your father’s daughter.”

  Harriet was proud to hear him say that, yet distraught her brother was so unhappy.

  The horses clopped on down the road, the wagon’s wheels creaking in regular intervals. As they curved around the next bend, a shout rose up. On the side of the road, a hundred feet ahead, lay a man clutching his leg. Toby had pulled up his horses while another man ran toward the wagon, yelling for help.

  “There’s been an accident,” said Harriet. “Get closer and we’ll see what we can do.”

  “No.” Freddie halted the horses and secured the reins. “You stay here. I’ll take a look.”

  Freddie jumped down and Harriet followed, ignoring him.

  By the time they arrived at the fallen man, William was already leaning over him, his medicine bag by his side.

  “What happened?” asked Harriet.

  The other man didn’t answer right away. He squinted at Harriet, then Toby and Freddie as if he were sizing each of them up. He was a giant of a man, a good foot taller than Harriet, and looked as if he hadn’t washed in several days. “My friend’s horse reared. Something spooked it. Damn animal.” He paced and came to stand behind Harriet as the man on the ground let out a low groan.

  “Lie still, I’ll take a look at your leg,” said William.

  The fallen one’s moans grew louder. “It hurts, it hurts.”

  Without warning, the other man reached one arm around Harriet’s waist and pulled her backward, lifting her off the ground. She screamed but it was too late. The man on the ground pulled out a knife then kicked William hard so he fell onto his back. From the cold sensation against Harriet’s throat, her attacker was armed as well.

  “What do you want?” asked Toby, holding both hands aloft.

  “Don’t worry about that.” The injured man had miraculously recovered and was now standing. “No questions from you.”

  Harriet tried to squirm as the other man’s hand crossed her chest. “Don’t!”

  “Wait a minute.” The man’s fingers spread over Harriet’s breast. “This one’s a girl.”

  “Very nice,” his partner responded.

  “Leave her be,” said Freddie. “She’s my sister. Take what you want but don’t hurt her.”

  “I’ll do whatever I want, and I like the feel of your sister.”

  The shorter assailant forced Freddie, Toby, and William against the side of the wagon before he knelt down and rummaged through William’s medicine bag. “Let’s see what we have here.” He pulled out several jars and read the labels. “Tonic syrup, arsenic, elixir.” He shook one at his cohort. “This is the one, opium. Good stuff, this.”

  “Get on with it,” said the other with a growl. He addressed the group. “We’re taking your wagons.”

  “Take them
and go,” said William.

  “And we’re taking the girl.”

  “No,” cried Harriet. Freddie had plastered himself against the side of the wagon and seemed paralyzed by the situation, his breath coming in shallow gasps. William, on the other hand, was measured and deliberate, and didn’t take his eyes off her face, as if he were trying to tell her something.

  The doctor’s bag was proving quite a draw. The shorter one turned it over and unceremoniously dumped out the rest of contents. When he unfolded a leather pouch, several frightening looking scalpels fell to the ground.

  “These’ll fetch a good sum.”

  Harriet’s mind raced with possibilities. If she could disarm her assailant, their attackers would be outnumbered. She had to get them off their guard. “I’ll go willingly, don’t harm anyone else.”

  Her attacker grunted in response, but slightly loosened his hold on her. William gave a tiny nod of his head and looked to the ground. A few feet away from him lay an ivory-tipped probe of some sort. In an instant, she knew what he was trying to tell her.

  Harriet summoned up her courage. She needed her voice to be strong and confident and not betray her terror. “In fact, I was hoping to get away from these boys. I could use some fun.”

  The shorter man stopped toying with the instruments. He grinned and sauntered over to her. “I bet you could.” He had enormous ears and his skin was flaky and dry.

  “You’ll make a grand couple, I’m sure.” Her attacker withdrew the knife and shoved her into the arms of the other.

  Harriet fell into him and looked over his shoulder at William, who surreptitiously held up three fingers. He nodded once, twice, and on the third time, Harriet dropped to the ground between the two men. William moved in a flash, scooping up the probe and driving it into the back of the man who’d been holding her. Once he was prone, Harriet whirled around and kicked the other one hard in the groin while William stabbed the probe into his neck. He keeled over, blood pouring from the wound.

  “Let’s go, get on the wagons,” William yelled.

  Harriet helped him gather his instruments and medicines while Toby and Freddie jumped onto the lead wagon.