Although Davie would bide his time, waiting for Giles to speak when he was ready, Ben and Christopher had surely noticed his tardiness, too. Sooner rather than later, they would take him to task for it. He really needed to figure out what to tell them.
But he wasn’t going to waste a particle of energy this morning worrying about that, he told himself as he strode down the steps and back towards the mews. Not with the glorious prospect ahead of a hard ride, and then a sweet session with his delightful, sensual Maggie.
He’d felt a niggle of unease when he impulsively proposed their bargain, worried that he’d grow frustrated with less than a full possession. And though he certainly would prefer to make Maggie completely his, so sensitive was he to her touch, and so inventive the ways and places she came up with to touch him, that he now had no doubt he’d be intrigued by the arrangement for the indefinite future.
Which was even more exceptional, when he considered that they were meeting daily, something he’d seldom done with his previous amours, when the press of political obligations often occupied him far into the night. Perhaps it was the happy circumstance of trysting first thing in the morning, before he became caught up in business...but he didn’t think so.
Nor could he remember being this excited, this energised, this...happy in any previous arrangement. Perhaps not since the end of his carefree childhood in that little cottage with his mother.
But enough analysing, he thought as he took the reins from the groom and threw himself up on his mount. Maggie would be racing her mare in the park, awaiting him. He meant to speed to her side and treasure every moment of their precious morning together.
* * *
A heavy, swirling mist veiled the park as Giles rode in, impatient to see Maggie again and frustrated at having to proceed slowly in the limited visibility. He turned his mount into Rotten Row, straining his ears over the sound of his own horse’s hoofbeats, listening for the muffled trot of another rider.
Several rode past before he saw Maggie, emerging ghost-like out of the fog in a dark habit on her grey mare. Delight bubbled up like champagne uncorked, fizzing over into anticipation that tingled in all his nerves.
Mindful that in the cloaking fog, there might be unseen listeners, he called out a prosaic ‘Good morning, Lady Margaret. Not so auspicious a day for riding.’
‘Yes, I’m thinking a short ride would be desirable this morning. Won’t you walk your horse beside mine?’
She’d never before asked to ride with him before setting off for their morning interlude, he thought with a stab of alarm. Surely she couldn’t have developed misgivings, and want to end this?
A panicked feeling he didn’t want to examine too closely flashed through him at the thought. Squelching it, he said, ‘What is your pleasure, my lady?’
‘You will find that out soon enough,’ she replied, pitching her voice to reach him alone.
Relief coursed through him along with a thrill of expectation. ‘I cannot wait.’
‘But you will, for a bit. I thought you would want to know that I received a most...interesting call yesterday. From your half-brother.’
Nothing like the mention of that name to cast a fog-damp blanket over his enthusiasm. ‘From George? What did he want?’
‘He first sought out my father to ask for my hand. Since you’d warned me he might do so, I’d already spoken with Papa and let him know I would never countenance such a match. Which he informed your brother. Apparently unable to take Papa’s word for it, George then sought me out, first trying to point out the advantages of a speedy marriage for a—’ she gave a rueful chuckle ‘—woman of my “advanced age” who’d been six years on the shelf and might not receive another such attractive offer.’
‘The devil he did!’ Giles exclaimed. ‘I knew he was maladroit, but that beggars belief!’
‘Belief was an article in short supply,’ she agreed. ‘Particularly after, with what I thought was saintly restraint, I replied in quite a civil tone that though cognisant of the honour of his offer, I could not accept it. He tried to convince me to change my mind, and when I wouldn’t, he warned me about you.’
‘I can only imagine what he said on that front,’ Giles muttered, angry and irritated that Maggie had been subjected to his brother’s ill humour—on his behalf.
‘He said—well, let’s simply say he was not complimentary. In fact, I am glad you warned me how...unpleasant he can become when he is thwarted, else I might have been ill prepared for what happened next. I’d just asked him to leave a second time when, having no idea that he had not left the house after their interview, my father was informed of his presence and came to rescue me. Though your half-brother wasn’t ready to follow my orders, he acquiesced readily enough to Papa’s command that he leave.’
‘I am certain he did. Damnation!’ Giles swore, swatting into the air with his riding crop. ‘Excuse my language, but I am so sorry that you had to suffer through that. George knew you were seeing me?’
‘He knew about Chellingham. I don’t think he knows about...this.’
‘There’s no guarantee he won’t find out,’ Giles said grimly. ‘And if he does...he could be even more unpleasant. It makes no difference to me—our encounters are always bitter. But I’d not for the world cause you any further difficulties.’ Hardly able to get his mouth to form the words, he forced himself to add, ‘If...if you think it wise, we could...discontinue our meetings.’
‘What, allow your spoiled child of a half-brother to dictate our actions? Certainly not! I thought we’d agreed on that point before.’
Relieved, Giles still felt it necessary to offer her one more chance to reconsider. ‘You are sure?’
‘I am. I only told you about the episode so you would be on your guard, and not be caught unaware if your brother seeks you out to complain about my rejection, or hold you accountable for it.’
‘Thank you for the warning! He might well try to take me to task, but that’s nothing out of the ordinary. I learned long ago how to handle George.’
‘The thing is,’ she said, her voice tentative, ‘I don’t want to make a bad situation worse. Knowing he will probably hold you responsible for the disappointment, are you sure you want to continue the relationship?’
‘There is nothing I desire more! I told you before we began, I want never to cause you any anxiety. Only to bring you pleasure.’
She smiled at him, her eyes lighting with a heat that fanned the banked flames of his desire. ‘Then why are we still riding in the park?’
‘I’ll see you soon,’ he promised, his excitement and anticipation rekindling as she kicked her mare to a trot and disappeared into the mist.
* * *
The shock of learning of George’s harassment and its threat to disrupt their arrangement must have added an extra edge to his impatience, for the time necessary to complete a full transit of the still-foggy park seemed an eternity to Giles. He was itching with impatience and breathless with desire by the time he was finally able to bound up the stairs to Maggie’s bedchamber.
He entered upon his knock, to find her still fully clothed in her habit, and smiled. He never knew how he would find her—fully dressed, in her shift, and once, delectably, completely nude beneath a gentleman’s banyan.
‘So, are we to have a slow undressing?’ he asked, striding over to give her a kiss.
Which she ducked to avoid. ‘No. I was thinking of what might happen, if I were never to see you here again.’
His eyes widened in alarm and panic tightened his gut. ‘I thought we’d agreed—’
‘Oh, we did. But then I thought how it might be, if we had decided it would be wiser to terminate our arrangement. What might happen, if we were to meet later, by chance, perhaps at the house of a mutual friend. How, despite our best efforts, we could not keep from succumbing to a taste of the fo
rbidden.’
‘I like the sound of that,’ he said, reaching for the buttons of her jacket.
‘No, you mustn’t!’ she warned, batting his hand away. ‘You cannot remove any of my garments, nor can I remove any of yours.’
He shook his head, mystified. ‘Then—what? Are we to have only conversation? If so, I shall do my best...though with you so near, I can’t vouch for how coherent I will be.’
‘Conversation...of a sort,’ she replied with a wicked little smile that stiffened his flagging hopes. ‘Sit here.’ She gestured towards the foot of the bed. ‘Talk if you like, but you may not touch me.’
That sounded more promising, as he couldn’t imagine a conversation with Maggie taking place on a bed that wouldn’t lead to some sort of thrilling consummation.
‘Let’s pretend,’ she murmured, sitting beside him, ‘that we’ve just encountered each other at Sir James Graham’s salon. Our host has invited us to walk in the garden, while he speaks with other guests. We find a bench—secluded, but still near the house. We chat for a while, until...I cannot resist doing this.’
He sucked in a breath as she leaned over to trace her tongue along his neck, just above the starched cravat, from beneath his ear to the base of his throat. His hands tightening into fists, he leaned his head back to give her fuller access, and with an approving murmur, she licked and sucked at the skin beneath his chin.
His breathing was already erratic when she abandoned that to nibble and nuzzle his earlobe, then lick inside the shell of his ear while she combed her fingernails through his hair, massaging the scalp in rhythm with her stroking tongue.
Suddenly she pushed him away and sat back up. ‘Someone is coming along the pathway,’ she whispered. ‘We turn and smile and greet them, and after speaking with us, they walk back towards the house. We are alone again—for the moment.’
This time she ran just the very tips of her fingers over his face, caressing his forehead, his brow, his nose, his cheekbones with the lightest of touches. She ended by outlining his lips with a fingertip.
He opened his mouth and sucked the finger in greedily, laving it with his tongue until she pulled it free and traced his lips again with the wetness.
Every nerve of his body vibrated with tension and anticipation. Incredibly, after so little contact, he felt himself begin to spiral towards his peak, and instinctively reached for her. She held him off, hissing a warning. ‘Someone else is walking this way. We rise, and smile, and chat with them. Ah, now they are returning to the house, and the bench is ours again. For the moment.’
She lifted his hand to her lips and began to nibble and lick each finger in turn. He heard his heartbeat thundering in his ears, and felt almost dizzy, trying to sit upright. A groan tore itself from his throat when she took his thumb in her mouth and sucked on it, then bit down on the tender pad.
‘Night is falling,’ she whispered. ‘Now, with darkness our ally, we can dare to do more.’
With that, she kissed him, pulling his hand to her breast while she slid her other one beneath the waistband of his trousers, where his erection throbbed. She whimpered when he insinuated his fingers beneath the jacket of her habit, pushing aside the bodice so he could caress a nipple, rigid beneath her shift.
The kiss went deeper, wilder, a clash of tongues and teeth, ardent, impassioned, striving for the peak. She clasped her hand around his swollen length, stroking him, rubbing her wetted thumb against the sensitive tip, until he felt the convulsions carry him away to bliss.
He was lying flat on the bed when he came to himself again, still panting and dizzy. ‘I think I just fell off the bench.’
Laughing, she leaned down to kiss him. ‘It is my aim to make you fall off benches—often.’
‘A laudable aim. First, however...’ he pulled her down in an embrace and slowly began pushing up her skirts ‘...it’s my turn to make you fall off.’
Chapter Twelve
Later, after Giles had pleasured her fully dressed and then both of them again, not so fully dressed, they reclined on the sofa sipping wine, languid and satisfied.
‘I suppose you must leave soon,’ Maggie said regretfully, giving him a lingering wine-flavoured kiss.
‘As I’m sure you must as well. Sometimes I wish there were no world beyond the doors of this chamber.’
A little thrill of surprise and pleasure ran through her to hear him express what she’d been feeling. ‘So do I.’
‘I hope at least this made up for the unpleasantness with George.’
At his mention of George, something disturbing about that interview recurred to her. She opened her lips to ask him about it, then shut them. Their intimacy was increasing daily, but he might not appreciate her enquiring into a matter as sensitive as his mother.
‘What is it?’ When she hesitated again, he said, ‘Go ahead, say it! Surely you trust enough in our friendship, that you can speak your mind to me.’
Yes, friendship. She reminded herself she wanted to share that, and passion, and nothing more. ‘Very well. Your brother told me something rather strange when he was railing against you—that you’d destroyed your mother. It sounded like an oft-repeated taunt, even though the very idea is ridiculous.’
Seeing something like a shadow pass over his eyes, she said, ‘Surely you don’t believe that?’
For a moment, he gazed into the distance, and Maggie sensed his thoughts were far away. Then he looked back at her, a slight smile on his face. ‘My earliest memory of her was of standing in what must have been her bedchamber, watching as someone—her maid, probably—fixed a diamond necklace around her neck. Her black hair was an intricate mass of curls, and she wore a silky gown of bright blue—the colour of her eyes.’
Like yours, Maggie thought.
‘From a child’s perspective, the room was incredibly large, with long blue hangings at the windows, gilded furniture, an impossibly high poster bed. Mama sat upon a stool covered in white satin. She looked like a princess—I thought she was a princess. But in the cottage where I grew up, she wore her hair in a simple chignon, dressed in plain kerseymere, and lived in a few bare rooms with scuffed wooden furniture, eating off earthenware instead of china and drinking from a wooden cup instead of a crystal goblet. Because of me.’
Maggie’s heart contracted with a sympathetic pain at the sorrow on Giles’s face. ‘Surely she never reproached you for it!’
‘No, never! There was always a sadness about her, though she did all in her power to see that I felt loved and happy. For years I thought the memory of her dressed in silk was only a dream. I didn’t find out what had happened until much later, after my aunt—my mother’s sister—took me away to school.’ His face hardened. ‘It was at Eton that I first met George. He quickly made sure that I knew every detail of my mother’s disgrace—and that the other boys knew that, despite my reputed title, I was in truth a bastard.’
‘He’s been trying to make your life miserable for that long?’
He nodded. ‘Growing up wild on the Hampshire downs, milling about with the local children, made me a better fighter than George. He had to get someone else to hold me off when he taunted me. Or when one of his toadies maligned my mother.’ He laughed shortly. ‘Since I wasn’t afraid to take on even the biggest of them, it’s a good thing that Christopher Lattimar turned up to watch my back.’
‘Did you not go back to see your mother on school holidays?’
‘By the time I was allowed to leave on holiday, she wasn’t there to go back to. By then, I knew why there had always been an air of melancholy about her, and a sense of...patient expectation. Much as I know she loved me, I think she was waiting—for Major Richard Kensworthy, the man she loved, to return from India and claim her. While I was away at school, she got a letter informing her that he’d been killed in a skirmish. Apparently distraught, she took a walk ove
r the downs in the midst of a storm. Our maid-of-all-work told my aunt that she came back soaked to the skin and shaking with chills. She developed an inflammation of the lungs, and before they could fetch me from school, she died.’
Maggie could hardly imagine how awful it must have been—torn from his beloved mother, bullied and taunted at school and forced to endure hearing her maligned as an adulteress, then losing her without even the chance to say goodbye. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she whispered, laying a hand on his cheek.
He took and kissed it. ‘Thank you. It’s a very old wound, and mostly healed.’
‘Mostly,’ she noted.
‘I told myself that later, when...I came into enough funds, I would buy the cottage where I’d been so happy. When I made enquiries about it recently, I was told it was part of a large estate, and the owner had no wish to sell. Perhaps he will, some day; I will certainly continue to pursue it. Her grave is there.’
Once again, his eyes went unfocused, and she could almost feel him being pulled into the past. Then he shook his head and looked back at her. ‘But I’m not the only one to have suffered a loss. Despite my half-brother’s ridiculous words about your “advanced years”, I’ve no doubt you could have remarried any time you wished, which makes me believe you did not wish to. Because your first husband was so compelling, you didn’t believe anyone else would ever compare?’
So he remembered that she’d told him Robbie had been the love of her life. ‘Compelling, definitely!’ she said with a smile. ‘Robbie and I grew up together—his estate, an ancient barony even older than my father’s titles, borders ours. He and my brother Julian and I roamed the countryside, and of course, I wanted to do whatever they did. As you may remember, my mother lost two babes, and never truly recovered her health. After I’d scared off my third governess, overseeing me was turned over to a junior housemaid—Polly—who became maid, friend, and confidante, and who was not nearly as strict as Mama would have been about confining me to proper maidenly activities. If I hadn’t been so mad about politics and desperate to have Papa’s ear on his visits home, I might have grown up an untutored savage.’
Forbidden Nights with the Viscount Page 14