Tallie's Knight

by Anna Gracie

I am to be 'madam' then he can be 'my lord', she thought rebelliously.

  He slammed his fist down on the table.

  "Damn it, Tallie, where the devil did you get to? You weren't in your

  bed when I woke."

  Tallie's annoyance dissipated in a rush of warmth. He had wanted her

  when he woke. He had missed her. Frustration-that was why he was so

  cross. Good. She hid a tiny smile and took a bite of eggs.

  "Do you not recall, my lord?" she said when she had swallowed.

  "I had an engagement to visit a bathing establishment with Madame

  Girodoux."

  "At half past seven in the morning?"

  Tallie nodded, her mouth full of kedgeree.

  "Yes," she said eventually, 'but it was worth it. Do you know? They

  scent the bath water with any perfume you wish--eau de cologne, rose

  water lavender--even salt water if you want, which I believe is

  frightfully healthful. The parfumier even offered to create a scent

  especially for me. " Tallie blushed, remembering how the dapper par

  fumier had kissed her hand and called her la belle Milady Anglaise.

  Magnus watched the pretty colour rising in her cheeks. He frowned. His

  desire for her was well-nigh unbearable.

  "But I asked for lily-of-the-valley instead." She raised her wrist to

  her nose and sniffed.

  "Mmm, lovely, don't you think? It was the most wonderful place. Each

  bath is large, and so deep you can have hot water almost to your neck,

  and you just sit there in this deliciously scented water and look out

  onto an exquisite little garden simply filled with red roses-quite

  private, of course. I've never seen anything so lovely or exotic." She

  blushed again, recalling how she had wallowed for over an hour in the

  deepest bath, dreaming of how Magnus would take one whiff of her, sweep

  her into his arms and make violent, passionate love to her.

  Magnus's frown darkened. Her words painted a very vivid picture--one

  he could imagine only too well. His wife, pink and naked in her bath,

  her skin slick with water and scented oils, fragrant clouds of steam

  swirling around her, and outside a flower garden, giving the illusion

  of being out in the open. It sounded as if the bath would have been

  large enough for two. He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry, his body

  throbbing, painfully aroused.

  "And that damned French puppy?" he growled.

  She made a moue of irritation.

  "He is not a puppy, but a very pleasant and gentlemanly young man, my

  lord. Fabrice Dubout--Madame Girodoux's nephew. I... I took a little

  longer than expected in the bath, and Madame Girodoux had another

  engagement, so she asked Fabrice to escort me home." Tallie bit into a

  roll.

  "And on the strength of this brief acquaintance you call him Fabrice?" he grated.

  Tallie glared across the table at her husband and set down her cup with a snap.

  "Yes!"

  Oh! He was infuriating. He could go off to who knew where, doing who

  knew what, leaving her behind, hurt, confused and lonely, and then

  return, growling and snarling like a suspicious wolf! Pretending to

  believe she would behave immorally. As if she would.

  He knew perfectly well that she loved him--she'd told him so. And even

  if she hadn't fallen in love with a horrid, suspicious man, she had

  taken vows of fidelity and she would never break them, no matter how

  fashionable it was. And even if she did wish to betray him, how could

  she, when she was accompanied everywhere by the ubiquitous Claude?

  No, Magnus was just being disagreeable because when he had returned she

  hadn't behaved as he'd expected her to, and when he'd awoken she hadn't

  been where he'd expected her to be. Madame Girodoux was right--a

  little uncertainty was good for a husband.

  "I am invited to a the this morning, my lord. Do you care to accompany

  me?" "A what?" The frown had not left his face, but she refused to

  give in and explain herself.

  "A the." Tallie smiled.

  "Being English, we are known to adore tea--' " Can't stand the stuff,

  myself. "

  "I know, and though the French firmly believe their thes are English

  through and through, any resemblance to an English tea party is purely

  coincidental, I promise you." Tallie smiled reminiscently, recalling

  her first the.

  It was not the consumption of alcohol as well as tea, and the

  combination of children's games and gambling which had surprised Tallie

  at first--it was the French ladies' tea gowns.

  Parisian women seemed to cover themselves more with cosmetics than

  clothing. To English eyes, their gowns left the ladies almost in a

  state of nature, being so light and almost transparent, and having no

  sleeves and baring the whole of the neck. It was a little

  disconcerting to address oneself to elderly dowager attired as flimsily

  and inadequately as one of the statues in the Louvre--Tallie hadn't

  known where to look. She smiled again, imagining her husband's face

  when she appeared in her own French tea gown, only half as daring.

  "And I suppose if I do not escort you to this blasted the, that damned

  puppy will." His voice bristled with dark suspicion.

  "Yes, Fabrice will escort me... if I ask him." She met her husband's

  gaze in a direct challenge.

  "Hrmph!" Magnus fiddled with his coffee cup for a moment.

  "It might be interesting to see how the French botch a simple tea

  party," he said at last.

  Tallie hid a smile.

  "In that case, I must rush and change, for we leave at ten."

  Magnus watched her hurry from the room, noting the enticing sway of her

  hips and the damp wispy curls that tumbled around the nape of her neck.

  A faint trace of lily-of the-valley hung in the air. It took all his

  resolution not to follow her up to her bedchamber.

  Damn and blast it all. He was getting deeper and deeper into her

  toils. It had shocked him to realise how bereft he had felt when he'd

  looked for her that morning and found her gone. For one wild moment

  he'd thought she'd left him, and the feeling of abandonment and

  devastation still haunted him. He'd imagined all sorts of things, and

  when he'd seen her being handed down from a strange carriage by a

  mincing, hand-kissing Frenchman he'd been filled with a mixture of

  relief and rage.

  She was picking up female tricks, he realised. Getting herself a

  damned Froggy cicisbeo. And when he'd challenged her about it, had she

  acted guilty or distressed? No! She had stared at him with those big

  amber eyes and got him all hot and bothered talking about a bath big

  enough for two.

  It had been a mistake to leave her in Paris on her own. And perhaps

  she was a little annoyed with him--yes, that was it. She wasn't like

  his mother--not really. He was a fool even to consider it. Dark

  uncertainty gnawed at him.

  Damn it! If tea was what it took to keep his wife where she belonged,

  then he would drink gallons of the filthy stuff.

  "Madame Girodoux has invited me to go vagabondising this evening,"

  said Tallie as they returned home. Her husband glowered silently from

  the corner of the carriage.
He had not said a word since she had

  removed her cloak on arrival at the the. Revealing her new pale gold

  French tea gown.

  It was perfectly respectable--compared with most of the other ladies'

  gowns. But after his first stunned glance his eyes had narrowed to icy

  chips, and an even blacker frown had descended on his face.

  He'd said not a word to a soul all afternoon. And to think she had

  once thought his manners were beautiful. He hadn't taken his eyes off

  her for an instant. Tallie had found that dark, icy glare decidedly

  unnerving, but her courage had been bolstered by Madame Girodoux's

  smiles and nods of approval.

  And so Tallie had mentioned the vagabondising excursion, knowing full

  well Magnus would disapprove.

  Magnus snorted wrathfully.

  "Madame Girodoux and her simpering blasted nephew, I suppose."

  Tallie shrugged.

  "Madame did not mention who else was in the party, but it would not

  surprise me if Fabrice were included. She is very fond of him."

  Magnus grunted.

  "What exactly does vagabondising mean?"

  "I'm not entirely certain, but I think it means exploring the less

  respectable parts of Paris by night. It sounds utterly thrilling, does

  it not?" Still a little nervous about these tactics, Tallie forced

  herself to smile sunnily at him. She wished she had not to resort to

  stratagems to gain his attention. It would be wonderful if he craved

  her company as much as she craved his. but she was learning to cut her

  coat to suit her cloth. And if stratagems were what it took, then so

  be it. And he had responded to her gown in a wonderfully jealous

  manner.

  Magnus glowered at her.

  "I think I know as much about the night life of Paris as madame or her

  precious nephew. Would you object if I escorted you on my own private

  tour?"

  "Oh, Magnus, it would be utterly splendid!" Tallie exclaimed and,

  jumping up, she flung her arms around him and pressed a fervent kiss on

  his mouth.

  Taken by surprise, Magnus hesitated for a moment. Tallie started to

  draw back, but before she could he gathered her into , a hungry embrace

  and was kissing her with unrestrained passion. He drew her onto his

  lap, kissing her hard, his mouth devouring her, one large, warm hand cupping her head in a firm, tender

  hold, the other possessively roaming her body, caressing, seeking,

  bringing her to the brink of pleasure.

  "Oh, Magnus," she gasped, overwhelmed by his unexpected move. She

  kissed him back with all the love in her heart, her anger forgotten.

  She slipped her hand into his shirt and nibbed the palm of her hand

  over his chest in a way she knew he liked. She felt a glow of feminine

  satisfaction, feeling him shudder beneath her fingers.

  The carriage rumbled to a halt and they fell apart as the door was

  pulled open by a footman. Magnus stepped out and held out his hand to

  help her down, his eyes burning into hers. Blushing, she descended the

  steps and entered the house with her hand still clasped firmly in

  his.

  As the front door closed behind them he swung her into his arms and

  took the stairs, two at a time, seeming not even to notice her weight.

  She clung to his neck, delighted with his passionate impetuosity, so

  unlike her Icicle. He kicked open the door of his bedchamber, stepped

  inside, kicked it shut and laid her carefully on his bed.

  He took the neckline of her gown in his long, strong fingers, saying,

  "You'll not wear this blasted thing in public again," and ripped it

  open in one dramatic move. Tallie was utterly thrilled. His eyes

  darkened as they moved over her partially revealed body. He wrenched

  off his beautifully arranged neck cloth and flung his shirt away.

  "I think, madam wife, any engagements you have made for this afternoon

  will have to remain unfulfilled. "

  Tallie smiled naughtily up at him.

  "Yes, but I doubt whether I will."

  He looked startled for a moment, and then eyed her hungrily.

  "Nor will I, my dear. Nor will I," he muttered hoarsely, and lowered

  his mouth to hers.

  That night, Magnus took her out vagabondising--after ensuring she was

  muffled to the ears and buttoned to the neck. He directed the carriage

  to a part of the city Tallie had never seen, where the streets were

  narrow and dark and vaguely threatening.

  They were, nonetheless, full of people dressed in all sorts of

  costumes: gaudy women with painted faces, beggars and cripples,

  elegantly dressed gentlemen, shopkeepers, soldiers. Tallie almost

  slipped on the oily cobblestones, and Magnus held her clamped tight to

  his side. Claude loomed in the gloom several paces behind them, and

  for once Tallie was glad of his fearsome visage.

  "After you, my dear," said Magnus, stopping at a doorway lit by painted

  lanterns. He ushered her down the stairs into a dark and mysterious

  place called a cabaret. They found a table and called for drinks.

  Tallie's was bright green. She eyed it with suspicion.

  "Does it not meet with my lady's favour?" Magnus said, quirking an

  eyebrow.

  On her mettle, Tallie sipped it cautiously, then smiled.

  "It tastes of peppermint."

  Magnus's white teeth glinted in the candlelight.

  Setting down her glass, Tallie looked around her. All sorts of people

  of all walks of life rubbed elbows and mingled in the smoky gloom.

  Grimy crimson curtains hung across a small stage.

  "What do the curtains conceal?" she asked.

  "Wait and see."

  After a few moments a dwarf came forward, dressed as a Turk, with a red

  fez. With a shout of something unintelligible, he pulled aside the

  curtains and scattered applause filled the room as a sultry,

  exotic-looking woman came forward. She was dressed, quite indecently,

  in red satin and black lace. She sang several songs which had all the

  gentlemen chuckling, including Magnus.

  "She has a lovely voice," whispered Tallie, 'but I can hardly

  understand a word. Will you tell me what the songs are about? "

  Magnus looked at her, a faint smile on his face, then shook his head.

  Tallie opened her mouth to argue, but suddenly a group of scantily clad

  dancers whooped onto the dance floor, twirling glittering scarves and performing some exotic dance to the

  rhythm of drums and wailing music. Their movements left Tallie in no

  doubt of what the dance, at least, was about. She stared, wide-eyed,

  feeling her cheeks warming. Magnus stood up, frowning, and said

  brusquely, "It's time we moved on, I think."

  Tallie's face fell.

  "Oh, no, it cannot be time to go home already, can it?"

  He looked down at her and his frown softened.

  "No, there's plenty more to see, little vagabond. Only not here, I

  think."

  "Oh, I suppose you are right," said Tallie reluctantly.

  "Those dances are vastly improper, aren't they?"

  Her husband gave a choke of laughter and took her arm.

  "Outside," he said.

  "Now."

  They took a carriage to a place beside the Seine, where a crowd of

  people were gathere
d in a large circle, watching. Magnus, keeping

  Tallie safe in the circle of his arm, shouldered his way to a place

  where she could see. Tallie felt as if there were just herself and

  Magnus in the world, as if everything else was just a magical

  many-splendoured rhapsody whirling around then, binding them together

  in a spell of enchantment.

  Acrobats dressed in glittering finery leapt and tumbled on a tattered

  cloth of red and gold, while a one-legged man played merry tunes on an

  organ. Then a pair of young girls came out, looking as innocent as

  schoolgirls. They twirled and tossed burning brands, leaving trails of

  fire hanging in the dark night air. And finally, to the gasps of the

  crowd, they swallowed the fire, then spat out whooshing bursts of

  flame, bowing and smiling afterwards, apparently quite unhurt. Tallie

  clapped her hands until they hurt.

  Then there was a puppet show about a young girl lost in the forest, and

  a dragon and a brave bold knight, and Tallie's heart was in her mouth.

  She knew they were just puppets, but she clasped Magnus tight even so

  and was glad of his warmth.

  They watched until there was no more to see, then strolled on beside