Only In Her Dreams

by Veronica Towers

  Chapter 13

  “Mr. Phillips, I suggest that you work up some tentative sketches and bring back some different fabrics to suit Miss Montague,” Marcus said as he reentered the room. He turned to Sarah, “Why don’t I take you on a tour of the house?”

  Sarah saw that Marcus had a kind of strange light in his eyes. Whatever is he planning? She thought to herself. He has that sort of devilish gleam that Papa used to give Mama before everything went wrong.

  She took Marcus’ arm and toured his study, a portrait gallery, and last but not least the ducal bedchamber. The room had the most massive bed she had ever seen. On one of the tables was bread, cheese, some fruit, a bottle of chilled champagne and two wine glasses. Sarah eyes widened at the display. She looked over at the fireplace and a fire crackling merrily. She looked more closely at the bed, the bed clothes were turned down invitingly. Sarah looked at Marcus with alarm.

  Marcus had walked over to the bottle of champagne and was working the cork out of the bottle. “Don’t look so alarmed, Sarah, the rest of the house is in shambles. Our future bedchamber is the only room in the house fit for habitation. The chairs had mice holes in them and as soon as you choose the fabrics they will be returned.”

  Sarah thought back at all of the work in progress especially the kitchen. There really wasn’t a space to be had in the house. “Who laid out this food? I will shoot you where you stand, Marcus, if the servants are involved,” Sarah said heatedly poking a finger in his chest.

  “This came from a picnic basket I had dropped off earlier when I was on my way to take you up in the curricle,” Marcus said casually handing her a glass of champagne.

  Sarah took a cautious sip of the wine, she had heard that you were to inhale the bouquet of the wine you were drinking. She took a deep breath and sneezed from the bubbles tickling her nose and spilled a little champagne on her dress. Marcus took her glass from her, and said mockingly, “Tsk tsk. Can’t hold your wine, Sarah? And you a soldier’s daughter!”

  Sarah glared at him and turned away searching for a napkin to wipe the drops off of her dress. She noted how fresh and clean the room looked in comparison to the rest of the house. She sniffed the air the room smelled of beeswax and lemon. “Why is this room the only room ready for occupancy?”

  “I sometimes stay here when I am out late at night,” he said as he drew her hand to his mouth and nipped at her fingers.

  The sexual awareness that she had barely been able to ignore came roaring back to the forefront of her consciousness. With effort she tried to hang on to her rapidly diminishing self control. She cast about in her mind for something to distract him. “Isn’t it a little dangerous to be coming here to this house late at night?”

  He took her hand and placed it over his shoulder. He pulled her unresisting body against his. He then started to nibble her neck. Sarah closed her eyes at the sensation; she felt a sinking feeling as the last of her self control deserted her. She repeated breathlessly in a whisper, “Marcus, isn’t it dangerous—“

  Her question was cut off by his lips meeting hers. Her legs gave way at his seductive onslaught and he caught her up in his arms and carried her over to the bed while kissing her. He stopped kissing her long enough to prop her on the side of the bed and turned her to unfasten her dress. While his busy fingers worked at her hooks he went back to nuzzling her neck. Sarah was so caught up in the sexual haze all thoughts of trying to stop Marcus went straight out of her head. She turned and flung her arms around his neck and kissed him with abandon. He let go of her while she was clinging to his neck to push off his own coat and unfasten his breeches. He took her arms from around his neck and eased her onto the pillows.

  She protested, “Oh, please!”

  “Oh, please, what?” he said with a sultry deep tone.

  “Oh, please, don’t stop!” she boldly took his hand and pressed it to her cheek.

  “Sarah, I know you haven’t lived an ordinary life but I will be damned if I will take you with my boots still on…” he said as he withdrew his hand dragged off his boots and the rest of his clothing.

  “I don’t care, Marcus, I am so tired of fighting against it,” she said with a sigh while she removed her own corset and chemise.

  “Fighting against what?” he asked absently taking her dress and hanging it in the wardrobe.

  She scooted over in the bed to make room for him, “You, me, us. I don’t know what will happen.”

  “Nobody knows, Sarah,” he said finally climbing into bed with her. “I lost friends and acquaintances in the war and you lost your father. Maybe the young man you met when you were on your way to school would have waited until you were legally his, but the man I am now feels that delayed pleasures sometimes never are realized.” He reached for her and she reveled in the feel of his warm moist breath as he blew on her breasts. Her nipples pebbled to hard peaks. Then he gently laved the turgid buds with his velvety tongue. She took a deep breath the sensation was so intense it felt near pain. She wanted to cry out for relief from the passionate onslaught. She felt a burning need build in the pit of her belly. Just when she knew she could not stand any more, Marcus reached down to spread the moist lips of her mound. He started stroking with his fingers as his mouth left her breasts and made a moist trail down her stomach. She arched up and road his hand seeking something, anything as he toyed and teased her sensitive, moist pink flesh.

  Marcus gave a final kiss to her belly then lifted her knees and started nipping and suckling where only his fingers had gone before. That was when she reached the pinnacle of sensation and cried out her release as she felt her insides shudder.

  While Sarah panted in ecstasy Marcus parted her legs still further and slid up her body to grasp her hips in his hands. He kissed her demandingly and thrust his tongue between her lips just as he breeched the barrier of her virginity with his shaft. He absorbed her cry of pain into his own mouth. She felt a strange fullness stretching inside her that was at the same time uncomfortable and yet not. She looked up into Marcus tight face as he lifted his upper body onto his arms to hold himself still inside her. She reached up and touched the tawny skin of his hard muscled chest.

  “Don’t do that,” he said through gritted teeth. “I need to make this good for you.”

  Sarah smiled as she stroked her hand up to his neck and placed a kiss on his chest. “It already is,” she said as breathed the fresh, clean scent of male and soap.

  Marcus lost control and started thrusting quickly inside her, lowering himself onto her as he grasped her hips. Sarah tilted her own hips and met him thrust for thrust. She again soared out of control as Marcus poured his seed deeply inside her. He immediately rolled off the top of her but brought her with him so that her head rested on his chest. He toyed with a bit of her hair. Sarah herself could not get enough of touching him.

  She sighed, her eyes closing, “I guess this makes me your mistress now.”

  Marcus went still and drew back from her slightly his eyebrow slightly raised, “You are rather under qualified to be my mistress. Mistresses are rather more experienced in bed sport.”

  It was Sarah’s turn to pull back slightly. “I am sorry you were disappointed,” she was stung into saying as she started to scoot away from him.

  Marcus reached and rolled her under himself, again grinning down at her wolfishly. “I never said I was disappointed, I am very pleased with you. Your enthusiasm for lovemaking more than makes up for your lack of experience…”

  Sarah felt her face warm with embarrassment as she attempted to slide out from under Marcus. He held her fast. “But what does this make me? I am not your wife, why would you use me so if I were not your light o’ love?”

  “A betrothal is as good as a marriage, I know that my parents must have thought so,” he said with audacity.

  “Y-your parents?” Sarah asked, puzzled.

  “I was born seven months after my parents marriage,” he said.

  Sarah still did not understand, “Were you a sickl
y baby?”

  “No, my dear little innocent, I was quite nine pounds when I was born,” he laughed heartily.

  “Oh? Oooh” she said the truth finally dawning on her. “Your parents anticipated their wedding vows. Were they not properly chaperoned?”

  “For the most part I imagine they were very well chaperoned, but I overheard my parents talking once about a trip to see my great uncle when they were engaged,” he declared.

  “Really,” Sarah said the light of interest lighting her eyes.

  “It seemed that my uncle and aunt, his sister, did not approve of my mother and showed their displeasure by placing my mother in the coldest, meanest room in the entire castle. My father’s room was not much better. To sum it up, I was born nine months later.” He took his finger and traced the delicate arch of her brow, “It would not displease me if we made my son or daughter just now.”

  Sarah placed her hands on his shoulders and shoved him off of her, “I am sorry, Marcus, I have these old fashioned ideas that a child should be born at least nine months after the wedding. Though I can understand having been in a few cold places myself wanting to be warm and if your father was anything like you…” Her voice trailed off as she stood up from the bed and wrapped the sheet around her.

  “Anything like me?” Macus prompted. Sarah looked back and saw his head propped up on his hand as he watched her intently.

  “Marcus Derning! If you were a gentleman you would turn your back,” she exclaimed.

  “Why should I? You are to be my Duchess and this is our bedchamber. It’s not as though I haven’t been passing the last hour very pleasantly licking, kissing and finally making love to your delectable body,” he said cheerfully.

  Sarah felt her face turn red even as she felt her body tingle in memory. She hurriedly looked away from his tantalizingly nude body stretched out, partially concealed by the blanket left on the bed. She scurried over to the wardrobe opening one of the doors to hide behind as she slipped back into her chemise and stockings.

  Her clothing was made in a practical style for a woman who did not have servants to assist her to dress. She had just finished tying her front fastening corset when she sniffed the air. “Marcus, do you smell smoke?” she asked alarmed.

  ***

  Marcus sailed out the bedroom door with Sarah struggling to finish dressing as she clambered after him. They both rushed down the back staircase to follow the faint trail of smoke. Marcus felt the door to the kitchen for heat then entered the kitchen. There he saw Josiah Wolcott using water to put out a small flame.

  “What happened?” Marcus said.

  “I was waitin’ outside, watchin’ the house, Yer Grace sir,” Mr. Wolcott. “When I spied a flash in the kitchen and the rum cove wot the two boys was chasin come flyin’ out o’ the door.”

  “Was he alone?” Sarah asked.

  “Aye ‘e appeared ta be,” Mr. Wolcott said. “I seen ‘im take off towards your neighbor yard. I felt I should take care o’ the fire rather than chase after the scallywag.”

  “Good thinking,” Marcus said absently glancing at Sarah’s hastily done up clothing. He raised an eyebrow at her and looked toward the stairs. He saw her look down at her partially fastened dress bite her lip and run up the stairs. He turned back to Mr. Wolcott and asked, “How did you come to be watching the house?”

  “Your uncle, Sir ‘orace found out from young Mr. Warrick about the set-to yesterday an’ called me to watch ta ‘ouse,” Mr. Wolcott explained. “Darby’ll be by to relieve me this afternoon for our meeting,” Mr. Wolcott was referring to his friend and fellow Beau Street Runner, Darby Jenks.

  “Capital idea, Mr. Wolcott,” Marcus said absently, he was lost in thought. Who could be behind these attacks? According to his solicitor he was the last of his line.

  “I reckon that they’d be expectin’ young Miss back at the Mission for tea or some such,” Mr. Wolcott ventured cautiously. He was staring pointedly at Marcus’ bare feet and chest.

  Marcus looked down at himself and smiled, “Ah, yes, I guess I should go and put on a cravat, I am dressed a little casually for making a call, am I not?”

  Mr. Wolcott wisely did not answer Marcus rhetorical question.

  Chapter 14

  After the new carriage and pair arrived, Marcus pulled Mr. Wolcott aside. “Sir, I would like you to see that a guard of trustworthy men be stationed at the Mission,” Marcus said grimly.

  “I can see that done, it be an easy job for some bloke to handle,” Mr. Wolcott said staring up at Marcus with his hands behind his back.

  Marcus stopped from getting into the carriage, his foot on the step, and looked back at the Runner. “How is that?”

  “Ever’body in White Chapel knows the vicar and ‘is sister, and now Miss Montague,” Mr. Wolcott said with asperity. “The people down there appreciate the hard work they do for the children. Not many folk take in orphaned or near orphaned children to foster them.”

  Marcus took his foot off of the step to face the man, “Near orphaned?”

  “Aye, tha’ boy William is the son of Black Jack Sprague, one o’ the meanest rogues in the rookery,” Mr. Wolcott said solemnly. “It be takin’ your life in your ‘ands to hurt folk from the Mission. Someone musta paid a purseful to have them go against him.”

  Marcus looked towards the coach and then back to Mr. Wolcott. He said, “We will explore this further when we meet this afternoon at my uncle’s for tea. Right now I need to get Miss Montague home to the Mission.”

  ***

  He climbed into the carriage, a high perch phaeton and took the reins from the deliveryman. The team was fresh and the carriage new, Sarah kept quiet while Marcus accustomed himself to the new vehicle. After the team was moving swiftly in the traces, Sarah felt it was fine to question Marcus.

  “Marcus, what did Mr. Wolcott have to say that delayed you from entering the carriage?” Sarah asked concerned.

  “Just what I suspected, someone is being paid a large sum of money to see me hurt,” Marcus replied.

  “I heard him say something about the Mission and William,” Sarah prompted.

  “Just that William is the son of a rogue who has put a cloak of protection around the Mission,” Marcus said shortly not wanting to discuss this further.

  “Oh, that William is Black Jack Sprague’s boy? I knew that… that’s why whenever Amelia or I leave to go to the market or run errands we always take William with us. His father wants his son to have a better life than he did and when the boy’s mother died he brought William to my cousins,” Sarah said thoughtfully. “His father offered to give us money to take him but Ambrose said that he’d be worried as to who died to get us the money.”

  “At any rate, whoever is offering money to hurt one of us is offering enough that they are not afraid of this rookery rogue,” Marcus commented. “I am having Wolcott set some guards on the house.”

  “Do you really think we need it? It is one thing to try and set fire to an almost deserted house or to assault pedestrians,” Sarah said perplexed. “But it is quite another to try and sneak up to a house in a neighborhood such as ours. Everyone knows everyone. Once a brothel keeper attempted to lure one of our girls and Ambrose had to intervene before one of the cut purses gutted the woman.”

  “Be that as it may, the amount of coin they must be offering would tempt most of the denizens of your neighborhood to sell out their own mother,” Marcus said.

  Sarah waved her hand in front of her face dismissively, “Not to worry with, I have no need to leave the house, Amelia said Cassandra and Alyce have their hearts set on dressing the soon to be Duchess of Allendale. I feel like a doll.”

  Marcus slowed the team as he approached the Mission. William came out and and held the horses’ for Marcus as he handed down Sarah. When he set her onto the pavement in front of the Mission Marcus said, “By the way, my aunt has been busy today opening accounts at various shops for you. I want you to purchase a new wardrobe…” He saw Alyce and Cassandra in the
doorway to the house, and added, “Alyce and Cassandra will be busy making fine new clothing for all of the children here at the Mission. I need you to purchase a wedding dress from one of the dress shops.”

  “That isn’t necessary. Amelia has my Mama’s wedding dress; it is still very pretty and it was never worn. You have family secrets, so do I,” Sarah said as she lifted her skirts and ran lightly up the steps. She turned and gave him a little wave as she went through the door

  Marcus stood staring at the door for a few moments as she disappeared from view then mounted the perch of the Phaeton and drove away.

  Chapter 15

  Marcus took his time driving to his aunt’s house. The streets were teaming with people and he wasn’t trying to throw Sarah up against him. He was thoughtful as he leisurely tooled his pair through town to his uncle’s town residence. Who would be likely to gain by his death? he wondered. He had few enemies and no one to inherit the Dukedom.

  He continued to consider the problem as he went through the rear entrance to the house. He went to his uncle’s study and tapped on the door lightly. He heard his uncle bid him enter and walked through the door.

  He walked into a room filled with all of his male relatives. Simon and Patrick Randolph, his cousin Matthew, Sir Horace’s son, Nathaniel Creighan, Viscount Ravensleigh and his newly related cousin-in-law Michael Winslow, husband to his cousin Emily were all present. He also saw Josiah Wolcott seated gingerly on a chair looking somewhat intimidated by the company.

  He heard Patrick saying, “Uncle, if we open all of the windows can we blow a cloud in here?”

  Sir Horace answered, “Patrick, your aunt is very sensitive to smells. I declare she even knows when I am even thinking about smoking.”

  Marcus spoke up as he took a seat in the room near the desk, “Why is it that all of you are still in town?”

  Simon spoke up, “Patrick and I were on the verge of leaving when our dear aunt told Mama that you were soon to be wed. Patrick and I are of the opinion that Aunt Minerva was grateful for any excuse to keep one of her sisters here in town.”