His mouth wove a fiery web along her skin as his fingers sought the most secret delights she had to offer him. Every spot he touched came alive as never before. Her breath sounded loudly in her ears as she moved to the pattern his fingers were teaching her.
When he brought her beneath him, her eyes opened again to touch the love-softened lines of his face. One arm wrapped around his shoulders as her hand stroked his cheek. Her whisper of love escalated into a gasp as he sought the total of their love in the depths of her body.
Murmuring his name, she clutched his shoulders. The joy became exquisitely agonizing. She became a pulse, beating in time to the powerful sensations crashing through her … wilder, faster, uncontrollable, until she splintered apart into starglow, billowing up to mingle with the heavens in the love of the man who shared her heart.
Leisurely kisses against her neck roused Mariel from the luscious lethargy weighting her limbs. She whispered Ian’s name as she lifted her arms to bring him back against her.
“My sweet love, how have you hidden this passion from the rest of the world?”
She opened her eyes to see his face directly above hers. Her finger followed the outline of his lips, which brought such delights to her. “I have been waiting for you, Ian. While others laughed behind their hands at the spinster of Foxbridge Cloister, my heart knew I should wait for you to set it free to soar.”
“I love you, lovely lady.”
“And I love you, Ian.” She grinned impishly. “I love the way you make me feel when I lie here with you.”
He laughed as he brought her head to rest on his chest. His fingers slowly moved along the silken texture of her skin so he could feel the power of their ecstasy drain from her. Biting back the words he longed to say, he did not ask her if she had changed her mind about marrying him. Later was time for such plans. Now all he wanted to do was savor the sweetness of Mariel in his arms.
“Shy?” he teased when she reached for the rumpled covers.
“No, chilly.” She gasped as he rolled her onto her back and leaned over her. The leer on his face distorted it from her image of the kindly Reverend Beckwith-Carter.
“Let me warm you.”
Her fingers touched his shoulders. She discovered she was trembling with the anticipation of the joys she would know as he held her. She pushed thoughts of the danger of this love from her mind.
Tonight she would do nothing to harm what she should never have done. She would not think of the consequences of this love affair. For this brief moment, the ecstasy was worth the chance of losing everything she held dear.
“Love me, Ian.”
“For as long as you want, my love.”
She swallowed her moan of desperation as she gave herself over to his loving once more. Only in the very thing that could destroy her could she find happiness.
Chapter Eleven
An unfamiliar sound broke through Ian’s dreams. He opened his eyes to a brilliant splash of sunshine. When he heard his bedroom door close, he sat upright. His astonishment at his room being invaded became a lazy, loving grin.
“Good morning,” sang Mariel. She placed the tray she carried on the night table and sat on the edge of the bed.
When he wrapped his arms around her slender form dressed only in beribboned camisole and cotton petticoats, he brought her to rest against him. With as much yearning as the first time he held her the night before, his mouth explored the pearlescent warmth of her lips.
Softly, he whispered against her ear, “Good morning to you, my love.” His fingers traced the gentle roundness of her skin above the lace of her chemise. “Breakfast in bed? I did not know you could cook. I figured you left that to Mrs. Puhle.”
“I do have talents other than upsetting the stuffy school-board members,” she retorted saucily.
He pushed her back into the pillows and put one hand on either side of her head. Seeing the love in her sapphire eyes, he smiled. “I agree. You have many talents. Are you sure your esteemed uncle brought you only the costume of the sultan’s favorite and not her secrets of keeping her husband satisfied in her bed?”
“Ian!” As always when he pleased her with his admiration, she flushed and failed to find words to reply to such open emotion. She sat and reached for a steaming cup. “Do you want to try my coffee?”
“It cannot taste as good as you.” He pressed his lips to her bare shoulder. When she gasped a sharp warning, he took the cup from her quivering fingers. “Very good,” he said after he took a sip. “Do I smell eggs?”
“Scrambled.” She giggled with childish amusement. “They started out as fried, but I am afraid I make much better scrambled eggs than any other kind.”
He raised the cloth covering the tray. The aroma of the food tantalized him. When she leapt from the bed to serve him, he reached for his trousers. He felt her eyes on him and glanced at her. Guiltily, she pretended to be busy spooning eggs onto a plate.
Reaching out for her hand, he pressed it to his weakened leg. With gentle compassion, he said, “You seem afraid to touch me here. You cannot hurt me. The leg is healed as much as it ever will be.”
“It feels no different from the other,” she said with wonder as she ran her fingers along the finely muscled leg. The now familiar surge of longing burst within her as she touched him.
“It differs only on the inside, my love. It is not the limb of a monster.”
“Ian, I did not mean for you to think—”
He interrupted her with a lingering kiss. “I know, Mariel. You would never be cruel to me unintentionally.” He grinned wickedly. “You would be sure to say it outright.”.
With a laugh, she asked, “Do you want to eat your breakfast now or wait until it is cold?”
“I would like to make love with you.”
“Breakfast first. I worked too hard while you were sleeping to let it go to waste.”
His hand stroked her bare arm. “Breakfast first, then I want to enjoy you again.”
Putting her palms to her forehead, she bowed, “Your wish is my heart’s desire, my sheikh.”
In spite of her vow to let no one daunt her for spending the night away from the Cloister, Mariel found herself sneaking into the house at mid-morning like a thief. She tiptoed through the foyer and up the stairs lit by the stained glass window. Along the hallway she skulked, hoping to see no one.
Hastily she changed out of her clothes, which showed the abuse of a night of lying on Ian’s bedroom floor. She shoved them to the back of the closet. Somehow she would find a way to explain their condition. Not now. She was tired and wanted only to take a nap. Ian had left her little time for sleeping during the night.
“So you decided to come home?”
Mariel twirled to see Phipps. The older woman had her arms folded across her chest in the uncompromising position she had often chosen when a younger Lady Mariel refused to desist in her latest antics.
“Phipps, can we talk about this later?” She rubbed her dry eyes.
“My lady, you must remember your place in this community.” She crossed the room to stand directly between Mariel and her bed. Unless Mariel wanted to cut through her companion, she must stay and listen.
With a sigh of resignation and a longing look at the soft welcome of her bed, she said, “All right. I am listening. Lecture me.”
Phipps shook her head. “There is nothing left for me to say. I have tried to teach you to be the proper young lady you should be. It appears I have failed.”
“Because I was late coming home one night?”
“Lady Mariel, you know as well as I do that you have only now come home. I will not ask you where you have been or whom you have been with. All I want to say is that you have an honored place in this community. You must ask yourself if what you are doing is worth the risk of losing that.”
Angrily, she stated, “Right now, I can tell you I do not give a damn what the rest of Foxbridge thinks about me!”
“Lady Mariel!”
“What
upsets you more?” she demanded sharply. “That I cursed or that I was late arriving home?”
Pain crossed Phipps’s face as she looked at the young woman’s stubborn stance. “What upsets me is the example you are setting for that child next door! How do you expect to raise her as a moral, chaste woman if you spend the night elsewhere?”
“Leave me alone!” cried Mariel. All the joy she had shared with Ian vanished when Phipps forced her to realize that what she had done in the midst of desire had blinded her to everything else. She did not want to think of that now or to admit to herself that she would be returning to the parsonage later to go eagerly to Ian’s bed again.
Phipps started to speak, then clamped her lips closed. Over and over during the night as she waited for Lady Mariel to come home, she had told herself that if she was delayed, she must be with Reverend Beckwith-Carter. She expected her lady should have no concern about her chastity with the parson, but Phipps discovered she had been wrong. Lady Mariel could not hide the glow of her newfound joy behind her icy exterior.
With a sigh, she wondered what would come of this love. It would be less easily accepted than a young woman from the village carousing with her lover among the shadows of the hedgerows. Already the church board had made its feelings clear on a relationship between Lady Mariel and the minister. This could cause only more trouble.
Mariel watched, perplexed, as Phipps excused herself and left the room. She had expected far more argument. Then she recalled her companion’s words. A scolding and being sent to her room without dessert would not suffice as a lesson for this misdeed. Hurt burned with hot tears in her eyes. She did not want to be punished for doing the only thing she could to satisfy her heart before the love she had waited for all her life disappeared.
Throwing herself onto her bed, she buried her face in the cool fluffiness of her pillows. No one could possibly understand the hell she lived in except for Uncle Wilford. Perhaps she should run away, as he had. But to do that would mean never seeing Ian or Rosie again. She could not throw away her love to escape her unhappiness.
Dreams soothed her as she relived the rapture of those precious hours in Ian’s arms. It was her only comfort as she escaped the truth for another few hours.
The sun burned in the western sky when Mariel left the Cloister. She did not drive the automobile. Leaving it behind the parsonage again tonight would be an invitation for troublesome gossip. Anyone who saw the buggy would assume it was Ian’s, left in the yard for an early errand.
She drove around to the back and left it in the driveway. Unhooking the horse, she led him into the barn. After making sure he would be secure for the night, she went toward the house.
Mariel opened the kitchen door of the rectory. The aroma of roast beef tantalized her senses. She smiled as she walked to the stove. That Ian could cook such a luscious meal surprised her more than he had been with her breakfast that morning. Peeking into the oven, she closed her eyes as she enjoyed the wondrous scent.
The door crashed shut as she released it. A kiss sent a wave of delight along her. She whirled to be enfolded in Ian’s arms. His lips silenced her greeting. The sweet flush of desire burst through her again. His hands reacquainted themselves with her. When his mouth explored her skin, she became breathless with longing.
“I love you, Ian,” she whispered as her fingers stroked his face. Her eyes remained on his lips, which could delight her so easily.
“Mariel, this day has been a century long. I feared the end would never come.” He tilted her face back so he could see her expression. “I feared you would not return.”
“How could I stay away?” Her eyes lowered as she added with less happiness, “Phipps lectured me this morning and dropped hints all day about my less than exemplary behavior, but I want to be with you.”
He searched her features and saw the stubbornness that was her tool to deal with any blockade in her life.
“Then stay with me forever.”
“Forever?”
His hands caressed her shoulders leisurely. When he drew her head against the strength of his chest, she did not protest. He spun the future before her. “Think of being able to share forever what we discovered last night. Think of the other ways we give each other happiness. Mariel, no woman has ever irritated me as much as you do. No other woman ever made my heart sing just to look into her eyes.”
In a whisper, she replied, “I think about it, Ian. I think about it all the time. I just do not want to talk about it tonight. Not when I want to be in your arms tasting the ambrosia of our love.” She flung her arms around him. “Love me, Ian. Now!”
“Now? Dinner is nearly ready.” He chuckled. “I understand your impatience, my love, but—”
Her fingers drew his face toward hers. “Now, please. I need you, Ian. I need the warmth of our love to wash away the fear within me.”
“Fear?” He stepped back to see her ashen face. “Mariel, what is it? What is wrong?”
Tears clung to her eyelashes as she whispered, “Don’t ask me to tell you what I cannot. Ask no promises of me except that I will love you forever.”
He refused to be satisfied with such an obscure explanation. Taking her shoulders, he stepped away to view her face. “What is frightening you so? It must be more than what that Gypsy told you.”
“I haven’t thought of that since,” she lied. Not much, she amended to herself. That Nadia’s words matched her own fears of the future had startled her, but she had been warned. She could not do anything to change what would happen, just as she had been unable to do anything about the past. Softly, she added, “Don’t make me beg you, Ian. Please allow me this much.”
“I will give you everything I can.” He reached past her to open the oven door. The heat spiraled out into the kitchen as they walked up the back stairs. At that moment, their feet moved in the perfect rhythm their bodies soon would know. They did not worry if their meal would be ruined. All they wanted was to cure the anguish in their hearts by delighting their senses with rapturous kisses and caresses.
The days passed in a flurry of joy and agony for Mariel. Whenever she was not with Ian, she tried to do all the other things she normally did to fill her days. Sleep became something she could experience only in her memory. She refused to spend the whole night with Ian again after that first night, but she did not sleep in her own bed.
Through the night, she paced endlessly. A warm bath or a cup of heated milk did nothing to help her sleep. She wanted to be in Ian’s arms, to slumber dreamlessly, as she had that one night. To do that might decimate everything she wanted for herself and for the ones she loved.
She realized how distant she had been to everyone in the Cloister when she went looking for Rosie on Saturday. It disturbed her to be unable to remember if she had had time alone with her daughter since the day of the school-board meeting.
Searching through the house yielded her no clues to the location of the child. Finally, she asked one of the maids. The woman looked at her as if she was insane. “Why, Lady Mariel, today is the day Dodsley promised to take Miss Rosie to the pond to go fishing. Don’t you remember?”
“Yes, thank you.” She said nothing more as she walked toward the solarium. Peering out the windows, she could see the line of trees edging the small pool at one end of the gardens.
She remembered that Dodsley meant to take Rosie fishing. She also recalled the day before she was to have gone with the child to visit Mrs. Parnell. Rosie’s best friend at the orphanage turned six yesterday. There was to be a party which they should have attended. Instead she had forgotten in her desperate dreams of loving Ian.
When she heard crisp footfalls, she said, “Good afternoon, Phipps.”
“Good afternoon, Lady Mariel.” The iciness of her perfectly correct voice did not thaw when Mariel turned to face her.
Without preamble, she said, “I forgot to take Rosie to the party yesterday.”
“She asked for you, but I could not find you.”
�
��I—” There was no sense in lying. Phipps would know the truth anyhow. Mariel had never succeeded in telling her companion a falsehood. “I was with Ian. I should have remembered, but I didn’t.”
“No,” she said, sitting on the settee, “you did not remember. Walter drove Rosie to the orphanage. I understand they had a grand time.” Her censure resounded through her voice as she added, “I hope you did also.”
Suddenly, Mariel felt the overwhelming need for someone to understand why she was acting this way. She went to the sofa and sat on the green cushion. Leaning forward, she took Phipps’s gnarled hand in hers.
“I love him,” she said simply.
“Does he love you?”
“Yes.”
“And this is how he shows it? What kind of minister is he to bed you without marriage?”
Anger tainted Mariel’s voice as she defended Ian. “He is a wonderful minister. He has been responsive to the needs of his parish. And he has asked me to marry him.”
“He has?” Phipps’ scowl disappeared instantly. “Then when will the wedding be held? Oh, my lady, why haven’t you shared these wondrous tidings with us?”
“There will be no wedding.”
Phipps gasped. Her voice squeaked as she repeated, “No wedding?” She cleared her throat and asked in her normal voice, “But why? You clearly love him. He loves you. Why won’t you marry him?”
Tears filled her eyes as she whispered, “I thought you would comprehend why I can’t bring Ian into this family.”
“That was years ago, Lady Mariel. Why should any of that resurface now?”
“Why not? Or in our children? Should I be ecstatic because the curse passed me by if my children must suffer the consequences of their parentage?”
Tersely, the gray-haired woman stated, “It may be too late to be thinking of that now.”
The residual color in Mariel’s face vanished as she asked herself how she could have been so stupid. She knew it was simply because denying herself Ian’s love required more willpower than she possessed. Children did not come only from marriage beds.
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