Passion's Twins

by Dee Brice

  “For which I heartily thank you,” Edina said wryly.

  “But what does changing places prove?” Willa asked. “Or not prove for that matter.”

  Edina giggled. “For some reason Roland cannot bear being near me.”

  “Even though he cannot physically tell us apart—”

  “Even though we use the same soaps and scents—”

  “He always finds an excuse to leave Edina’s side,” Rowena finished. “When Father sees Roland leave her—believing it is me he deserts—he’ll recognize how ridiculous Roland’s pursuit of me is.”

  Yvonne cleared her throat. “’Tis not only Roland we need to worry about. Basil—” She cast a sympathetic glance at Edina. “Your father wants Rowena to marry Gerard.”

  “No-o-o-o,” the twins cried out, their voices joined in a harmony of despair.

  All six women let their thoughts claim them.

  At length Edina said, “Then I—as Rowena—must have an argument with Gerard.”

  Rowena snorted. “A verbal attack proves nothing. Mother and Father argue all the time and they love each other.”

  Edina gasped. “Are you suggesting I attack Gerard with a weapon?”

  “Hmm.” Yvonne rubbed her chin. “That might work. Imagine this. Rowena—Edina as Rowena—watches Roland depart. ‘Twould play best, Edina, if he provoked you into slapping him.”

  “No,” Rowena immediately objected. “Roland would likely hit her back.”

  “Which,” Yvonne countered, “gives her reason to attack Gerard. She could shout something like, ‘Every man who wants me only wants Beaufort. But Edgar…’”

  “Wants me for myself?” Rowena provided, her voice dripping sarcasm.

  “’Tis the truth,” Edina said. “I’ve seen his face when he looks at you. ‘Tis as if you are the only person in the room.”

  “Just as Gerard looks at you.”

  Beatrix’s laugh drew all gazes to her. “Just as all our husbands look at us.” She suddenly squealed, “Oh! Oh! I think I’ve caught a fish!”

  Her daughters scurried away. Pippa and Willa rushed to Beatrix’s side.

  Yvonne followed the twins to barge’s bow.

  “’Tis a reasonable plan,” Edina said, offering an apologetic smile. Rowena nodded her agreement.

  Yvonne nodded as well. “As far as it goes, yes, a reasonable plan. ‘Twill work best if Rowena simply tells Roland and your father how she feels about Edgar.”

  “As if Father would listen!” Rowena complained. “But I learned something from Edgar’s leaving me the other day.” She linked her hand with Edina’s.

  “We must each stand alone,” Edina whispered and Rowena nodded.

  “Not always or forever alone,” Rowena murmured. “Perhaps more than once, but at least that one time. Father…may send me to a nunnery or confine me in a cell somewhere on Beaufort land. If a nunnery, I shall run away before arriving there. If a cell…” She shrugged. “I may have to rely on others to free me. But before Father shuts me away I shall tell him exactly how I feel about Edgar. And most definitely how I feel about his trying to rule Edina’s and my lives.”

  “Which may provoke him into confining you both,” Yvonne warned, her smile contradicting her words.

  “In that case,” Edina said, “we shall both seek sanctuary at Marchonland.”

  Yvonne laughed. “Which may send all three of us to a common cell. Gareth…” Realizing her tongue had almost run away with her good sense, she bit her inner cheek. She could not reveal Gareth’s and her need for a treaty between Beaufort and themselves.

  “Gareth might shut you away for a time.” Edina giggled.

  Laughing, Rowena added, “In a cell with a very large bed.”

  “We know just such a chamber.”

  “As do I,” Yvonne said, striving for a frown but grinning at the twins.

  “He’d visit you—”

  “Nightly.”

  “If not more often,” Rowena teased, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.

  “Perhaps you should lock him in the cell,” Edina added with a sly smile.

  “Perhaps I shall.”

  Beatrix squealed again. Laughing, Yvonne and the twins went to share in her delight.

  Chapter Twelve

  Several Days Later

  Rowena anxiously glanced over her shoulder. Edina smiled reassuringly then followed Aida around a corner and out of sight. Gaspar cleared his throat, reminding Rowena the night waned. They stood in the secret passage at the single point where the tunnels met. Or so she’d been told. Secret passages being what they were—full of twists and turns and traps for enemy invaders—Rowena was grateful for Gaspar’s guidance.

  “Does Edgar expect me, Gaspar?”

  “Expect? I know he’s been told to expect a present that’ll be delivered through the tunnel. And a pretty present you are, Rowena.”

  In the torchlight, her pale yellow gown shimmered like gold. But would Edgar like it? Would he even notice what she wore?

  “Thank you, Gaspar.”

  To Rowena, their journey to Yvonne’s tower seemed too brief a lifetime. When Gaspar reached out to alert Edgar to open his side of the passageway, Rowena wanted to run. With Roland due tomorrow, she felt as if she and Edgar were stealing time. Which meant, no matter what happened with Roland, she needed to run to Edgar—not away.

  The passage filled with light. Two calloused hands grasped her trembling ones. Two strong arms enfolded her, held her so firmly against his naked, hairless chest she could feel his heart racing.

  “Sweeting,” he breathed against her temple then kissed her breathless. “I feared you would not come.”

  “’Tis my sole purpose for being here, m’lord. To ensure we both arrive at ecstasy.”

  He laughed. The tension she’d felt in his hands, in his body, in his kiss eased out of him. Finally able to draw an unobstructed breath of her own, Rowena smiled up at him. He drew her forward. The door to the passage closed behind her. She heard it latch with a soft snick.

  Noting the erotic tapestries on the wall, Rowena said, “Just who were you expecting, Edgar? A disreputable woman perhaps?”

  “These quarters once housed Yvonne’s grandfather. His tastes were…eccentric.”

  “’Tis somewhat better than Yvonne’s solar.”

  “I prefer swiving over being scourged.”

  “I have noticed,” she said dryly.

  “Compared to the tapestries in the bedchamber, these are mild.”

  “Will you show them to me, Edgar?”

  “Later.” He drew her a few steps farther into the solar. “When Gaspar told me to expect a present, I hoped it would be you. I thought we might eat before we bathe.”

  “Oh! That tub is enormous.”

  “Kerrie’s first husband—Yvonne’s father—had it made for her. He apparently appreciated swiving in this slipper.” He nodded at the shoe-shaped bath.

  “Another attempt at word play, Edgar? Swiving over scourging. Swiving in a slipper.”

  “You make me tongue-tied,” he said, peering at her from beneath his lashes as if wondering how she would respond to this newest play on words.

  “I can think of better purposes for your tongue, m’lord.”

  “So can I, Rowena. So can I.”

  * * * * *

  Willa’s Tower Guest Quarters

  Spooned against Gerard’s chest, Edina smiled up at him. His smile in return came slowly and failed to erase the concern in his eyes.

  “What troubles you, Gerard?”

  “I would be less concerned about Roland had you told Yvonne of your intentions.”

  “Rowena and I will only change places for a short time.”

  “’Tis too dangerous, Edina. If you provoke him—”

  “’Tis more dangerous for Rowena. If she’s too near, Roland may try to steal her away and force her to marry him.”

  Gerard unclenched his teeth. “He could do the same with you.”

  Edina giggled.
“Before he comes too close I’ll drop my handkerchief. He will sniff it before he hands it back. Trust me in this, Gerard. As soon as he smells my scent he’ll flee.”

  “Edina, you are far too trusting. Roland wants Beaufort. Do you truly believe an unpleasant odor will keep him from his goal? He knows you are twins—”

  “But he cannot say who is who.”

  “He’ll find your sister. Even believing he has the wrong twin, he may take her captive anyway. After all, you and Rowena claimed your parents could not tell you apart. Roland may believe that as well, especially since he can’t either.”

  Edina thrust out her chin. “I refuse to risk Rowena.”

  “And I won’t risk you.”

  “Meaning what? ‘Tis too late to change the plan, Gerard.”

  “Meaning I shall be at your side the entire time you are with Roland. If I appear bored, ‘twill seem the marriage is being forced upon me. You, on the other hand, must hang on my every word, gaze at me as if I am everything you desire.”

  “That won’t be so difficult.”

  “’Twill be for me.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Even more difficult for Edgar and me when you and Rowena become yourselves but are with the wrong man.”

  “Which will enforce the impression of indifference on all our parts. Which is exactly what we don’t want to happen.”

  “Aye.”

  “Then we won’t change places. Once Roland perceives neither Rowena nor I will marry him he’ll leave. As soon as possible.”

  “From your lips…” He kissed her. “To God’s ears.”

  “And Father’s.” Turning in Gerard’s arms, she stroked his cheek. “What else worries you?”

  He kissed her palm, folding her fingers over it. “Have you thought about our future? What we shall do if Edgar…cannot marry Rowena?”

  “You think if Rowena fails to persuade my father to let her marry Edgar, he will prohibit our marriage?” When Gerard nodded, Edina slumped against him. In a small voice, she said, “And you believe my father—”

  “And Gareth.”

  “Will insist you marry Rowena?”

  “An alliance with Beaufort figures large in Gareth’s strategies to protect Puttupon. I believe his new sisters’ marriages to our cousins—his own marriage to Yvonne—have both lessened his concerns and added to them. Beaufort may stand as our first defense against an enemy or…” As if the thought appalled him, he frowned. “Or offer a gateway through which that same enemy may march.”

  “Oh dear.”

  Holding her at arm’s length, he met her eyes and vowed, “Should your father deny us we shall leave immediately.”

  “Run away? To Serenity?”

  “Serenity lies too close to Beaufort for our safety. No, we’ll have to flee farther away than Serenity.”

  “Wh-Where will we go?”

  “To Farid. He’ll know where best to hide us.”

  “Who is Farid?”

  “Never mind that now. Can you ride? Can you travel with only the clothes you wear? Hell, will you flee with me, Edina?”

  “So long as I may bring my comb and a bar of soap…so long as we are together, I can do anything. Go anywhere.”

  Laughing joyously, he scooped her into his arms and kissed her. “Daring girl! I do love you, Edina.”

  “And I love you, Gerard.”

  As if settling their own future for themselves had lifted an enormous weight off both of them, they kissed. Their bodies heated until they tore at each other’s clothes. Flesh against flesh, they came together, parted then came together once more.

  He took her where they lay on the window seat. He took her with ferocious hunger. Without finesse. Without preparing her. She matched his ferocity. Welcomed his body slamming against her own. Being with him, having his arms around her was all the preparation she needed.

  * * * * *

  Yvonne’s Tower Guest Quarters

  Rowena slowly paced around the enormous tub. She inhaled. “Apples,” she said, a catch in her voice. “You convinced Willa—”

  Edgar, face and chest flushed, confessed, “Had already thought to create the scent. ‘Tis not too overpowering, is it?”

  “On our wedding night, we might use a little more. Tonight…tonight it smells just right.” She picked up a small bottle, withdrew the stopper then inhaled again. “Lovely. It reminds me of the orchard at Beaufort when it is in full bloom.” Looking up at him, she said, “Will it travel, Edgar? The scent, I mean.”

  “Between Marchonland and Beaufort? It should. Perhaps we should ask Willa.”

  “Farther than Beaufort, Edgar. C-Could you trade it for something of equal or greater value?” Suddenly shy, her eyes downcast, she replaced the stopper, returning the bottle to the table.

  “Clever girl. I hadn’t thought of that. We might find a market for it. I’ll ask Farid.”

  “You might ask Willa first. It may take time—time she does not have because of her duties at The Eyrie—to make the scent.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that either. You are far too distracting, Rowena. All I can think about is making love to you.” He drew her into his arms and simply held her close. “I love you, Rowena.”

  “And I love you.” Leaning back against his arms, she reached up to stroke his cheek. “I would have a boon from you, Edgar.”

  Her words reminded him of their first visit to Marchon’s orchards. He echoed his own. “If ‘tis in my power I shall grant it. Gladly.”

  “May we pretend this is our wedding night? Will you make love with me as you would—as you will—when we are wed?”

  Cupping her face gently in both hands, he looked down into her shimmering eyes. Love and desire, joy and sorrow, certainty and shyness shone in those teary blue depths. “’Tis what I want most, Rowena.”

  He felt his own eyes sting. Felt on the verge of unmanly tears. To discourage those tears, he said lightly, “If this truly were our wedding night, your lady-in-waiting would have undressed you already. Since I find you clothed, I shall play lady’s maid and remove your gown myself.”

  “I’ll help.”

  He caught her hands. “No. One day…one day soon, I intend to lie in our marriage bed and watch you undress. Now I intend to open the most beautiful present I have ever received.”

  Under his hands her entire body quivered. Gooseflesh rose on her arms, on her nape as he kissed it, on her arms and legs. Her nipples pebbled. Edgar forced himself to ignore her scent—that uniquely feminine call to her mate. He stroked her hair so those unbound flaxen tresses flowed down her back. With shaking fingers, he traced her brows, her cheeks, her lips. Drawn by that faint scar under her lower lip, he touched his tongue to it.

  “One day you’ll tell me how you got this scar. You’ll tell me so that I may thank whoever or whatever gave it to you. Because of this tiny flaw, I no longer need to kiss you to know ‘tis you in my arms.”

  “But in the dark, m’lord? How will you know me in the dark?”

  He chuckled. “By the way your body responds to my touch. How my body hardens when you near. The way your laughter gladdens my heart. The way your scent calls to me Even in the dark, dear one, I would know you.” He found the knots that held her sleeves to her bodice, eased the sleeves down her trembling arms, let them fall to the floor. Her wrist, the tender flesh in the crook of her elbow drew his kiss, his tongue.

  She sighed his name.

  Fingers laced in her thick hair, he kissed her brows, her closed eyelids, her nose, her cheeks. His tongue traced the corners of her mouth, the seam of her lips. They felt like moist velvet. Soft and warm and welcoming, they opened to his tongue’s gentle invasion.

  His cock wanted in her, but Edgar had promised Rowena a wedding night. He would make love with her as he had the first time. With all the tenderness and gentleness he could find in himself.

  “Would you rather we talk, Edgar?”

  Her eyes were clear of reproach, the question showing only concern for him.

  �
��We can talk later, Rowena. I…I stopped kissing you because I feared I’d lose control. Hurt you.”

  She ran her hands over his shoulders, down his chest then worked one hand beneath his trunk hose. His swollen cock swelled even more.

  He stilled her hand.

  “I want you in me, Edgar. I want you in me so much you cannot possibly hurt me.” She glanced down at his hand, curled her fingers more fully around his eager cock.

  His breath hissed out.

  “Must I beg, Edgar?”

  Shaking his head, he caught her up in his arms. His bedchamber was awash in candlelight. Rowena’s loving gaze never left his face as he carried her to the wide bed.

  “My cock demands I ruck up your skirts and plunge deep. My cock wants to take you hard and fast. My cock has little care what you want or need.” He put her on her feet. “But I care, Rowena.”

  His fingers suddenly nimble, he loosened her bodice laces, untied the tabs that kept her skirts at her slender waist. Her skirts pooled around her ankles, over his naked feet. Fearing her bodice had stuck to her skin, that removing it would also remove her flesh, he slowly peeled the golden cloth from her shoulders. Held his breath as he eased the fabric off her breasts and watched her nipples rise to rigid peaks.

  Discarding the delicate material, he cupped her breasts to lave her nipples. “Sweet,” he muttered. “So sweet.”

  “Edgar.”

  With exquisite care, he laid her on the bed. For several minutes he simply took her in. Her hair gleamed in the candles’ glow. Her skin held the luminescence of priceless pearls worn so often they retained the oils from the wearer’s skin. Even in half-light, her eyes reflected like blue sapphires held up to the sun. Love shone in those sapphire depths. Love and pride and quiet confidence—in what he had no idea, but that steady gaze imbued him with all the emotions shinning up at him.

  Her breasts rose and fell with every breath. He thought he could see her heart flutter just under that pearly skin. It seemed her heart fluttered in her belly as well.

  “Touch yourself, Rowena. Caress your nipples as you want me to caress them.”