Tallie's Knight
Page 17
noblesse oblige.
But he did enjoy the warm weight of her in his arms.
By the time they reached Calais, she had almost fully recovered from
her seasickness.
"France!" she announced in relief as they headed towards the customs
house.
The French officials examined their passports with an insulting
attitude of suspicion and searched their baggage with greedy hands.
One turned to examine Tallie's clothing--while she was wearing it--and
Magnus stepped forward with a warning growl. There was a short
muttered exchange, gold passed from English to French hands, and they
were allowed to leave. John Black, Magnus's coachman and general
factotum, remained behind to supervise the luggage.
With every step on firm, dry land, Tallie gathered animation. Her eyes
darted everywhere, drinking in the sights and sounds and smells of her
first foreign country. A foreign country, moreover, which only a short
time ago had experienced bloodthirsty revolution and war--and murdered
almost all of its aristocrats. She was now an aristocrat by
marriage.
Tallie pressed close to her husband, thrilled by the sense of danger,
secure in his presence.
And what sights there were too, for almost every man had savage black
whiskers and gold earrings, and wore a cocked hat with a red, white and
blue cockade pinned to it--the tri colore Some grenadiers marched past,
looking very daunting and military, with prodigious moustaches and an
erect, menacing gait.
The girls, grisettes, were very smartly dressed too, adorned with
sparkling crosses, necklaces, earrings--all kinds of glittering
decoration--and pretty starched white caps close upon their heads.
The sounds of French surrounded them, and Tallie frowned as she
listened. These people spoke very differently from Mademoiselle, who
had taught French at Miss Fisher's, and Tallie could only understand a
word here and there.
She was surprised at how cheerful and friendly people seemed, but the
Peace of Amiens had been signed almost a year before and things had
obviously settled. She had half expected them to be rude, or hostile,
but nothing could have been farther from the truth--particularly when
the landlord bustled out of the Lion d'Argent, bowing and smiling,
welcoming Milord Anglais et la belle milady with genuine pleasure.
"I ... I do not think I am very hungry," said Tallie as they entered
the private dining parlour. Her stomach had settled a good deal, but
it was still feeling a little peculiar.
Magnus frowned.
"You will feel more the thing with some good hot food inside you." He
summoned a thin, lugubrious garqon and ordered coffee, eggs, steak and
ale for both of them. The garqon gave a Gallic shrug and pointed out
that they were not in England now, and decent Frenchmen did not drink
ale. Magnus gave an English shrug in response and said nothing.
Tallie waited until the gargon left.
"I have no wish for food, thank you. I am not at all hungry."
"Nonsense," Magnus said bracingly.
"You will eat, and that's the end of it."
The gargon returned in a few moments and placed a plate of poached eggs
in front of her. Magnus addressed himself to a large, rare steak.
Tallie glared at him mutinously and pushed her eggs away. How could
she have thought her husband was kind? She was very sure she had not a
trace of her insides left. No man with an ounce of sensitivity would
expect her to eat runny eggs--or watch him devour a greasy steak--when
she was still feeling so delicate. She averted her eyes from the
disgusting sight and stared out of the window, where two men dressed in
ragged finery played republican tunes on an organ and tambourine.
Magnus signalled to the gargon. A moment later he brought in a large
cup of steaming, fragrant coffee and a dish of rolls and placed them on
the table. Tallie watched Magnus break open the rolls. Wisps of steam
escaped as the golden crust broke. The scent was heavenly. He
buttered a piece with pale butter and, before she knew what he was
about, popped it in her mouth. Reluctantly she chewed and swallowed.
It was delicious.
Clearly he was not going to allow her to refuse to eat. Grudgingly she
reached out, buttered the next piece herself and ate it cautiously.
Next she took a sip of coffee. It was wonderful--hot and strong, milky
and sweet. She drained the cup, then looked up to see her husband
watching her, a faintly quizzical look on his face. As their eyes met,
the long grooves down his cheeks deepened and the grey eyes almost
twinkled.
Wryly she smiled, feeling a little foolish.
"Very well, it is delicious. I do feel better."
He nodded.
"Food is the best thing after a bout of seasickness. Will you have the
eggs now?"
Tallie glanced at the orange yolks and shuddered.
"No, I thank you. I will be content with these rolls and some more of
this lovely coffee.
It is different from English coffee, is it not? And then I would like
to wash and to change my clothes. "
"Make haste, then, for we do not stay the night here," said Magnus.
Tallie looked up in surprise.
"We made good time in the ship," he said, 'but it will not be long
before this town is as crowded as Dover was. I have every intention of
beginning the journey to Paris as soon as possible and avoid the
inconvenience of over-full inns. " He added, " We shall stop in
Boulogne, which is some hours' travel from here. I understand there
are several decent inns where we can repose ourselves for the night.
"
Tallie nodded and wiped her mouth with a napkin.
"Very well. I shall postpone my bath until just before I retire for
the night."
Magnus met her eyes in an oddly searing glance for a moment, then
stared at his plate, "John Black is, at this minute, arranging
transportation with the postmaster. We shall depart as soon as he has
hired a post-chaise and four."
The trip along the post-road from Calais to Boulogne delighted Tallie,
the faint aroma of onions that lingered in the hired vehicle
notwithstanding.
"One would think that farms would be farms and fields the same the
world over, but it is not so at all, is it?" she commented to
Magnus.
"Even the people in France look different."
He nodded, never having given the matter any thought. He'd decided not
to ride, the horses for hire being decidedly inferior in his opinion,
so he was sprawled lazily in the corner of the chaise, observing his
bride's fascination with the passing scenery. Her ability to be
pleased by the smallest things struck him again, and it occurred to him
that, had he wed one of Laetitia's collection, he would, no doubt, be
having to exert himself to entertain her. Tallie was young, he
realised, but she had never yet bored him as Laetitia's friends had.
The late afternoon sun was sparkling on the Channel when they reached
Boulogne. They found the inn the landlord of the Lion d'A
rgent had
recommended. Magnus engaged a suite of rooms, bespoke an early supper,
then went for a stroll while a bonne ushered Tallie up to a large
chamber and then went to arrange for her bath to be drawn.
Tallie explored. Her chamber was spacious, with a small dressing room
attached. It was comfortable, rather than elegant, and contained an
enormous bed with a heavenly feather mattress. On top of the bed were
several quite peculiar pillows--long, round and narrow--more like
bolsters than pillows. She wondered if Magnus's bed had proper pillows
and decided, if it did, she would borrow one of his.
Connecting doors led to a private parlour and a narrow balcony
overlooked the sea. Tallie passed several enjoyable minutes observing
the scenery until the bonne returned with a pile of soft towels.
Behind her trooped footmen, carrying an enamelled hip bath and numerous
buckets of steaming hot water.
Tallie bounced into the wonderfully soft bed and snuggled down under
the thick down quilt that the inn provided instead of blankets. It was
very light, and quite insubstantial compared with the thick woollen
bedclothes she was used to, but it seemed warm enough.
Her first day in France. It had been very exciting, for Magnus had
taken her for a stroll through the town before they had sat down to an
utterly delicious supper. She had heard about French cooking, and now
she knew! Even quite ordinary vegetables took on a new splendour in
the hands of a French cook, with delectable subtle sauces and
interesting combinations. And the variety of dishes. wonderful.
Tallie sighed in pleasure and leaned over to blow out her bedside
candle. Before she could do so, however, she heard a knock on the
door. She sat up in bed, clutching the down quilt to her chest.
"Who...? ET ... qui est-ce?" -she called hesitantly.
"It is I," said the deep voice of her husband.
"C.-come in."
Magnus entered, shutting and locking the door behind him. Tallie
pulled the quilt more tightly around her.
"Was there something you wanted, my lor--er, Magnus?"
He looked down at her enigmatically for a moment.
"This is my room, too."
Tallie blinked.
"But there's only one bed."
He smiled slowly.
"I know."
"But..."
"We are married, Tallie. Married couples share a bed."
Tallie's mouth opened in surprise. It wasn't true. Her cousin
Laetitia had her own bed, and most of her married visitors had separate
chambers, too--Tallie knew because she'd been the one who had usually
arranged the accommodation for guests. The only time they ever shared
a bedchamber was when there were too many people for separate ones.
Maybe this inn was crowded too.
"Oh," she said, and swallowed.
"I'll disrobe in here, shall I?" Magnus entered the small dressing
room, pulling the door after him.
Tallie sat in the bed, wondering what to do. There was a look in his
eye that she had seen before--in the coach in Dover, when he had kissed
her in that extraordinary way.
She'd thought about the kiss a lot since it had happened. She knew
people didn't usually kiss like that, with their tongue inside your
mouth, and wondered if that was how a man put a baby inside a woman.
Amanda Forrest had said her mother said it happened when a man put
himself inside a woman, and he had certainly put himself inside her
then. She shivered deliciously, remembering the bold sweep of his
tongue over hers.
Did she have a baby inside her yet? Probably not, after all that
vomiting on the ship, so perhaps he was going to kiss her in that
special way again. She wouldn't mind it at all. It had been quite
wonderful. She hadn't felt the need to flinch or anything, as her
cousin had said she would.
The dressing room door opened and Magnus emerged, dressed in a heavily
embroidered dark silk dressing gown, tied at the waist with a sash. He
walked over to the bed and smiled.
"Move over," he said softly, and with a small, nervous smile Tallie
wriggled over to her side of the bed. He sat down on the edge of the
bed and slowly undid the sash, watching her all the time. He peeled
off the dressing gown and Tallie gasped and averted her eyes.
He was naked! Completely naked. No nightshirt at all!
He stood and, naked, walked a few steps to a chair, over which he
neatly draped his dressing gown. Tallie shot a quick, furtive glance
at him. She had never seen a naked man before. Aside from the
powerful muscles across his shoulders and back, and the long, hairy
limbs, men weren't all that different from women, she decided. They
were just bigger and stronger and hairier. Then he turned, and
Tallie's eyes almost popped out of her head. There was something very
different about men. and her husband looked nothing like little
Georgie in the bath!
Tallie suddenly realised he'd caught her peeking, and she hurriedly
turned her head away, closing her eyes for good measure. He laughed,
and said, "It's all right to look, you know."
Tallie didn't reply. She lay down in the bed, her eyes shut tight, and
felt the bed sag as he climbed into it. His body was very close to
hers--she could feel the warmth radiating from him, even though he was
naked and should be cold.
"Will you blow out the candle, please?" she said after a moment.
"Not yet," said a deep voice beside her ear.
"I think it's my turn to look, don't you?"
Tallie's eyes flew open and she clutched the comforter to her chin.
"Y ... your turn?" she quavered.
"My turn," he confirmed.
"It's what married people do." He reached out, gently tugged the
comforter from her nerveless grasp and pushed it down to her lap.
Slowly he began to unbutton her nightgown. one button. two. three.
until it was undone almost to her waist. She was shaking by the time
he'd finished and her eyes were screwed shut.
"Don't be frightened," he said softly, and began to stroke her cheek.
He moved closer, and she could feel the solid heat of his body lying
all along hers. He bent over her and kissed her lightly on the mouth,
then kissed her again, moving his lips softly over her, small, tiny
kisses, feathering them over her mouth, her eyelids, her cheeks.
Tallie relaxed a little.
His hands caressed her, stroking her cheek, her throat, down her arms,
then back up to her throat. He touched her breasts through the cotton
of her nightgown, moving back and forth in the softest, lightest touch.
Tallie felt a faint quiver pass through her every time he did so. He
kissed her deeply, then touched his tongue to the hollow at the base of
her throat and kissed her again. Slowly, slowly the kisses moved
lower, and she felt the faint abrasion of his chin as he nudged her
nightgown apart.
She felt the moist, warm trail of his kisses down in the valley between
her breasts, then his hand slipped in and eased her gown aside. He sat
up on one elbow for a moment, staring.
"Bea
utiful."
Tallie's eyes opened for a fleeting, stunned glance. Beautiful? He
thought her beautiful?
He cupped first one breast then the other, in a warm, strong hand, then
rubbed his thumbs gently back and forth across their tips. Tallie felt
them harden, and shivers of pleasure coursed through her. She watched,
trembling, as his dark head bent and he suddenly buried his face in her
breasts and made a low, deep sound in his throat. She had never before
felt so close to another human being. She wanted to put her arms
around him, to cradle his head against her. Her hands rose, hovered,
and then dropped uncertainly.
"Let's get rid of this thing," he said, sitting up. He reached under
the bedclothes, took the hem of her nightgown and began to pull it
upwards, over her legs.
Tallie tried to stop him.
"I ... no... But it's cold ... and this comforter is extremely
light."
"I'll keep you warm." He tugged at the hem.
"Lift your bottom."
Mindful of her wedding vows, Tallie obeyed, and in seconds she was
lying in bed with her husband, not a stitch of clothing between them.