by Mary Brendan
‘She’s now on the verge of womanhood. She deserves to know that you are alive and love her as a father should.’
‘I want to tell her but, as with you, I’ve never found the words or the courage to do it.’ He turned towards Faye, frowning. ‘Will she hate me, do you think, and accuse me of abandoning her mother?’
Faye rushed to him, cupped his face in comfort. ‘Of course she won’t hate you! It isn’t your fault that you were kept in ignorance of her birth for so long. And she’ll appreciate your honesty more than any mealy-mouthed half-truths.’ Faye gently grazed her palms back and forth on his abrasive jaw. ‘What I do feel certain of is that your daughter will be overjoyed that a noble man sired her.’ She smiled. ‘And she’ll know where she got her beautiful brunette looks from.’
Ryan jerked Faye closer, smiling as he burrowed his face against her willowy, lavender-scented neck. ‘And I think you quite beautiful, too; with your golden hair and green eyes you attract me like a moth to a flame.’ He caressed her cheek with loving fingers. ‘I’m burning for you now,’ he mouthed against her temple. ‘But your beauty isn’t simply skin deep...my daughter needs you in her life: a strong and principled woman such as you can show her how to be a refined young lady.’
‘I’d not pin your hopes on that,’ Faye said with mordant amusement. ‘Claire has managed to ignore my good example, if indeed good it is.’ She sighed contentedly in his embrace. She utterly believed everything that he had told her. ‘Both our girls will find their way. They are their own people, as we are, and trying to change them too much would spoil their characters and make them unhappy. I’d willingly spend more time with Ruby, though; I like her very much. But...’
‘But...?’ Ryan prompted, his eyes black as obsidian and flaring with candle flame as they searched her face.
Faye felt a blush warm her cheeks. ‘If we...that is...’ She faltered and drew a breath. ‘Our future relationship might prevent my becoming close to your daughter. It would not be seemly for Ruby to associate with a woman suspected to be your mistress.’ She felt his arms tighten about her and she struggled free to say rather crossly, ‘Oh, you know it will be suspected. As you have rightly said, even in a little village people love to spy and gossip. We will be found out.’
‘We must remove the risk then of giving anybody the chance to create a scandal.’ Ryan lay sensual fingers against her throat where her nightgown’s ribbons had loosened. Dipping his head, he pressed his lips to the pulse bobbing beneath pearly skin.
‘I will not move to Ireland and be put in a remote house where you might visit me once or twice a week at your leisure.’ Faye stepped back out of his reach in case the magic of his touch swayed her into agreeing to such a thing.
‘You said you’d go anywhere with me,’ Ryan reminded her, a hint of laughter in his voice.
‘Within reason, sir, and within easy reach of my brother and sister until I am sure they no longer need me.’ Faye backed away, needing to put a distance between herself and his overpowering virility. This is the reality of being a mistress, she thought. Loving him, wanting him and yet all the time there will be the uncertainty and the loneliness and the waiting... I can imagine it all and hate it before it has even begun.
‘Will you go to church with me tomorrow?’
‘Church?’ Faye smothered a hysterical laugh. ‘Are you quite religious, Viscount Kavanagh?’
‘Not at all. I’ve been called a heathen in my time...an abuse that is possibly justified. But I believe in the sanctity of marriage. I believe in those wedding vows and that’s why I couldn’t propose to Shona. I knew I’d break them and we’d end up hating one another.’ Ryan approached her, slid his arm about her waist and rested his forehead against hers. ‘But then there’s you...’ He caressed her cheek with his own. ‘There is something else I should have done a while ago, but didn’t. Those words wouldn’t come easily either; I’m not as brave as those damnable medals I’ve got in a drawer would have me be. I know your heart’s been broken by Collins, but I pray that in time you might forget about him...and love me.’
‘What words don’t come easily?’ Faye breathed, her insides tightening in anticipation of soon hearing something wonderful...something that might make her trust in gypsy lore for ever.
‘Come...sit down.’ Ryan led her to the bed, then he dropped to a knee in front of her. ‘I love you, Faye Shawcross, and have done so since almost the first time I saw you. On the day you came to the manor to fetch the doctor I watched you running for some while before making my presence known. You were graceful as a hind, lovely as an earthly angel with your flaxen hair streaming on the wind. I knew quite simply that I had finally met the woman I wanted as my wife. But as luck would have it, she was promised to another.’ He gave a dry chuckle. ‘For a gorja you have a gypsy quality about you. Not this, though...’ He forked his fingers through her untidy locks, savouring the feel of the corn-coloured silk sweeping across his palm. ‘You are everything I want and God knows you’ve put a fire in my blood like no other. Even Shona couldn’t arouse me the way you do and for a while I was at her feet.’ He bowed his head. ‘The fact that you were Collins’s betrothed was agony for me. I wanted to take you from him even before I knew him corrupt and that made me hate myself.’ He paused, rubbed a hand across his mouth in a boyish gesture. ‘I know you don’t love me and that at times you have hated yourself for responding to my lovemaking. But I don’t regret showing you how I can make you feel because I love you and want to marry you. I swear I will remain faithful and cherish you and our children. And though I have no betrothal ring to give you right now, I’ll lavish on you every fine jewel and gown you deserve as Viscountess Kavanagh.’
Faye could listen to no more of his torment, enchanting though it had been to hear of his devotion to her. Abruptly she sank down beside him on the rug. ‘Hush... I need no fancy jewels or dresses and if you think I do, you don’t know me at all, Ryan Kavanagh. I love you, not Peter Collins. Why else would I even consider travelling along country lanes with you in a draughty caravan, plucking pheasants?’ She flung her arms around his neck and he swayed backwards to the rug, holding her on top of him.
‘And I always loved what you did to me...how you made me feel, even if I did know that it was wrong to want you when I was engaged to another man,’ she whispered, pressing her lips shyly to his.
‘Will you marry me tomorrow, before we return to Wilverton? I’ll get a special licence. Your aunt can attend you, if you like.’ Ryan pushed back a tangle of blonde locks from her flushed face to gaze earnestly into her eyes. Slowly he manoeuvred them, rolling so she was beneath him.
‘I’ve nothing to wear,’ Faye protested even though she was smiling in joyful agreement.
‘You can wear that nightgown for all I care. Don’t make me wait for the sake of a dress, please, Faye.’ His mouth touched hers, sweetly wooing, then the kiss deepened to a demanding, slow-moving seduction. His arms slid beneath her, lifting her up and positioning her so she was straddling him on her knees.
With a little moan of anguish Faye wriggled her fingers between their faces, parting their lips. ‘You love me and want to marry me, but I have to care for my family still.’ There were still obstacles to overcome and no amount of sensual delight could erase that from her mind. ‘My sister and brother are very important to me...and I cannot abandon them, even for you.’
‘And neither would I expect you to,’ Ryan said, raising their joined fingers to his lips. ‘Whatever is important to you is important to me. They may live with us in England or Ireland for as long as you, or they, wish.’ He chuckled. ‘I cannot predict, though, how long we will be able to endure my daughter and your sister beneath the same roof.’
‘They would be up to mischief, that’s for sure.’ Faye felt choked with emotion. ‘You will really allow us all to live as a family, even though you barely know Michael and Claire?’
‘I know you... I want you and while I breathe I’ll do anything to keep you safe and happy. Your family are my family...even your servants.’
‘Oh, Ryan...’ Faye clasped him around the neck, smothering his stubbly cheek with little kisses. ‘You asked me once why I had been engaged to Peter for so long. I could have told you then that he wouldn’t tolerate my siblings living beneath his roof. Now I believe there was more than just that making me constantly delay. I had sensed you were out there somewhere and I was waiting for you to come and love me.’
‘And now I am here can I love you? Really love you? Do you trust me that much, Faye?’
‘Yes,’ she said simply, gazing deep into his velvety eyes. ‘I trust you with my life and that of my brother and sister. I trust you with my heart and my body...’
Ryan swept her up into his arms and slowly pivoted about on the spot before placing her on the bed. He braced two sinewy arms over her and for a long moment their eyes remained entangled. ‘I’ll go now...come back in the morning with the licence and take you to church, if that’s what you want. We can wait until our wedding night...’ He dropped his head to his arm, rubbing his face on his sleeve. ‘Hell’s teeth! My big mouth again...’ he groaned.
‘Don’t you dare go.’ Faye folded upright and plunged her arms about his neck. ‘You will love me now, please, Gypsy Kavanagh...’ She nuzzled his cheek. ‘But ruffian that you are, you must love me quietly...my aunt is not far away.’
‘Oh, I can be quiet...’ He seemed about to add something, but instead smiled wickedly.
His eyes dropped to her gauzy nightgown and Faye felt the blue flame of his gaze scorching her skin, stirring her to her feminine core. She felt her breathing becoming slow as he gathered the hem of her garment in one large dark hand. She was barely aware of the whisper of cotton on her skin as the material floated away from her body. The throb in her breasts picked up tempo as his ravening eyes wandered from their full beauty to her slender waist and over the flare of her hips. Her breathing became slow, then slower still until she felt quite giddy. The first touch of his hand was firm and possessive, his long fingers sliding beneath the weight of a breast, curving upwards so the nipple was grazed within his palm. She arched into his touch, her naked torso rubbing against the wool of his coat.
‘Lie down...’ Ryan ordered huskily, throwing off his jacket. His hands were next at his trouser buttons, then his boots were lobbed softly aside to land on the discarded garments.
When he slipped on to the mattress beside her Faye immediately turned towards him. Stripped of a veneer of civilisation bestowed by his expensive tailoring, he seemed bigger, more powerful and disturbingly masculine. Even in low light she could see the thick ridges of muscle in his abdomen and arms. ‘I...I know I was engaged for a long time, but we didn’t do more than kiss really. That is to say...I don’t know exactly what to do to please you—’
‘Yes, you do,’ Ryan gently interrupted, caressing her cheek with his mouth. ‘Just lying beside you pleases me, just kissing you like this and this...’ He slid his lips over hers, carrying on so his mouth moistened her throat and the swell of her breasts. ‘All of that pleases me...do you like it?’
Faye nodded, swallowing, unable to articulate how blissfully excited he made her feel.
‘Whatever pleases you, will please me,’ he murmured, moving her hand to lay against his chest. ‘Just touch me...in any way... I’ll like it,’ he groaned on a half-laugh.
Faye started to smooth and explore the satin-sheathed muscle and bone with her palms, revelling in the power she held on hearing his breath catch in his throat. She drew her fingers back to splay over his nipples and he immediately growled an appreciative laugh.
‘You see...you do know...’ he murmured hoarsely.
He dropped his head to hers, claiming her lips in a sweetly seductive kiss, while his hands lowered to tantalise her breasts with touches that became tender torture as the mewling in her throat increased. He shimmied down her, drawing a rigid little nipple to his lips and lavishing it with licks and pulls until her thighs instinctively parted and her knees drew up.
He went down lower, trailing fire with his mouth on her belly, then his hands clasped her inner thighs, gently spreading them to expose the apex of her femininity to his artful tongue.
‘Ryan...’ Faye cried, bucking her hips as white light shot behind her eyelids.
‘Hush now...no noise, you said,’ he growled, capturing her lips to quieten her. He nibbled musky kisses against her mouth, her ears until she became sinuous and cat-like beneath him. Then he shifted to cover her body with his, gently easing into her with nudges of a knuckle, rocking a thumb against the little nub until he heard her pants grow guttural and her arousal slickened his hand. He put his manhood against the dewy opening, rocking forward then withdrawing until he felt her natural rhythm increase and her hands grasped his hips. With a smooth shallow plunge he broke through, stifling her little squeal of surprise and pain with a long, drugging kiss.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked, as his hips swayed side to side on her groin in a rhythm that made her gasp and curl her calves over his. Too sensually dazed to speak, she answered him with a sigh and by thrusting up her pelvis to graze away the excruciating throb of need writhing in her belly. Every command he mouthed against her skin she obeyed, doing exactly as he asked, trusting him, until her shoulders were all that supported her and her hips were elevated and as one with his. Slowly he increased his movement and the excitement within her grew, layer on layer, drawing her higher and tighter until she felt that a coiled spring had replaced her innards. He ground against her faster and harder, tipping her over the edge and the tension within her burst into starlight and an animal cry of ecstasy.
Ryan’s whole body had shaken with the restraint of touching gradually and tenderly when what he’d really wanted to do was plunge headlong into her and drive every thought of Collins completely out of her head. The moment he felt her climax undulating around him he rammed home in long hard strokes, smothering her sobs of pleasure with an erotic kiss until he shed his seed. Gradually he became still and they lay entangled and exhausted.
Faye felt another heart thundering against her breast and the wonder of it made her curve her mouth into a smile against his shoulder. ‘So that is what couples do on a wedding night?’
‘It’s what we do every night,’ he said in a voice of velvety amusement.
‘Are you all right, my dear? Are you having a nightmare?’ Aunt Agatha rapped on the panels. ‘I heard you call out. Let me in to comfort you. That beast Collins has caused your torment...he is no good for you...’ The door knob rattled.
Faye’s eyes widened and she thrust a fist to her bruised and pulsating mouth to stifle a horrified squeal. She ignored Ryan’s silent laugh and panted out, ‘I’m quite all right, Aunt Aggie; it wasn’t a nightmare about Collins...it was a dream...something wonderful.’ Her eyes tangled with Ryan’s. ‘And now I’m feeling quite ready to fall off to sleep again.’ Faye heard her aunt’s mumble and then her footsteps receding.
Ryan dipped his head and kissed her before springing noiselessly from the bed and swiftly getting dressed.
Faye sat up, keeping the sheet modestly to her breasts in a way that made him smile as he shrugged into his tailcoat. He sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled on his boots, then turned to her.
‘Will you tell your aunt we’re to be married tomorrow afternoon?’
Faye shook her head. ‘She’s an astute woman. I’m not brave enough to risk her questions...after what she heard just now.’
‘Are you brave enough to risk a life with me?’
‘I am indeed,’ Faye vowed with a note of soft wonderment. ‘And if you’re a minute later than twelve o’clock I shall come and find you for I can’t wait for it all to begin.’
A shimmer of dawn was putting a glow in the sky, drawing h
er eyes to the window. ‘You must go; it’s getting light and somebody might see you leave.’
‘I love you...trust me?’
She nodded firmly. ‘I do...and I love you.’
Faye sat tensely with her knuckles supporting her chin, but no noise was discernible even though she strained her ears as he disappeared over the sill. She jumped from her bed, wondering if he’d got stuck on the drainpipe, but as she peeped out from the edge of the curtain she saw him strolling past a gas lamp.
He pivoted, walked back a pace into its glow as though knowing she was watching him, then he bowed, slowly blew her a wicked kiss and carried on.
Epilogue
Faye placed down her novel and went to the window to gaze out as it seemed about the right time for them all to come home. A savoury aroma was issuing from the kitchens, heralding dinner time. As though indeed lured by the scent of the succulent beef and onions roasting in Valeside Manor’s ovens, two ladies hove into view against a russet-skied backdrop. They strolled sedately, side by side, along the shingle path littered with fallen golden leaves.
Faye watched them, a quietly contented curve to her mouth. If a person didn’t know about the rift that had gone before they might think that Deborah Shawcross and Agatha Banks were the best of friends. They weren’t, of course, but both women were determined to be civil for their hostess’s sake. And perhaps, in the fullness of time, the bitter memories of a family fractured by infidelity would dwindle to shadows. Faye hoped the two widows might find companionship together in their twilight years; her surfeit of happiness made her want to see others happy, too.