by Jane Lark
But Pembroke had not been happy when he’d discovered the perversity and viciousness Hector favoured for his games. Dog fighting was one of Hector’s preferred entertainments, as well as baiting.
She could still remember the Duke of Pembroke’s look of disdain for both the company and the entertainment.
He chose to leave when Hector began his favourite game: flaunting his pretty young wife and baiting his peers.
He’d liked to make her appear available, when, in truth, he’d never let it go that far.
Jane had rejoiced in the Duke’s desertion at the time, pleased Hector had lost in something.
She dare not contemplate what Pembroke thought of her now. His attention had been unnerving, although her mind had been occupied by other thoughts, of Robert.
Casting the Duke of Pembroke from her mind, her fingers slipped beneath the sheet and explored the contours of Robert’s naked body.
Lightning flashed outside, and, this time, the crack of thunder rang instantaneously, as though the house itself had been hit. It was an angry storm, but its violence, the sound and smell of rain and the sweep of cold air through the open window, was stimulating. She felt alive.
She kissed Robert’s shoulder and felt the sinewy lines and furrows of his torso.
All day, she’d walked about in another world, half in the thrall of the sensual knowledge he’d taught her; her stomach and the place between her thighs whispering an ache which constantly told her she was no longer a virgin and she may, even now, be with child. A child? The thought made her heart ache.
The rain gained in intensity.
Jane felt the part of him which had invaded her last night, lying limp in repose. It stirred, changing in density, disproving his claims. He did not need to be in control. He could become aroused even while asleep.
Another flash of light illuminated the chamber, and the thunder came on the back of it.
Cool air caressed Jane’s skin as a sharp breeze swept through the window.
Growing bolder, Jane slid down the bed.
He’d used his mouth on her in London. It seemed only natural a woman could do the same for a man.
A groan left his throat, and his hip jerked.
She glanced at his face, but he’d not woken. She moved to kneel astride one of his legs and returned to her task to see how far he could go without control.
A deeper groan erupted from his throat, and the lightning flashed, followed a moment later by a clap of thunder.
His fingers slipped into her hair and he pressed into her mouth as his hips lifted and he swore in a foreign language before he said, “Jane,” in a voice which sounded pained.
She did not stop. She could tell he liked it, as she’d liked what he’d done to her.
A sound left his throat almost like a whimper.
He threw the sheet off her back as another flash of light filled the room, vividly illuminating her love play. His groan became a growl, his fingers clinging in her hair, and he pressed her down as his hips pressed up.
“Sweetheart,” he said breathlessly.
The lightning brightened the room for another instant, and the thunder was now a few minutes behind it, but the rain seemed to strike the window like pins pattering against it.
The accompaniment of nature’s symphony gave her an inhuman feeling as she played master to him and felt the power of it.
Robert’s hips kicked, and he clasped her scalp.
She liked having this effect on him, and, as she learned the things he liked best, his fingers began clasping then releasing in her hair while his hips pressed up and fell back.
She understood what he’d meant about being in control now. She was observant and aware so he could simply enjoy. But she ached with arousal, too – from the pleasure of pleasing him.
Another flash of lightning struck overhead and shook the windowpanes. In the same moment, his fingers clawed and a ragged cry left his throat as he pressed into her mouth.
It was over.
Suddenly, his hands gripped her shoulders, drew her up then tumbled her back onto the bed. His kiss was urgent. It burned with gratitude.
When he ceased, he left her panting and lay beside her, his head resting in his palm, his weight on one crooked arm.
Lightning struck again, highlighting his face and his gentle smile.
“Jane,” he whispered as his free hand cradled her cheek, “what on earth were you about? Duchesses do not do such things, darling.”
“Did you not like it?” Had she done something wrong?
He leaned and kissed her lips in a brief caress then said against them, “I liked it. Immensely.”
She smiled. He kissed her cheek, then her chin, and her neck. “Why didn’t you wake me?” she said to the air.
He pulled away. “I tried, sweetheart.”
“I didn’t know you’d come.”
“I’m surprised you would doubt it.” His gaze fell, and his fingers traced a path over her breast and circled her nipple.
A sharp, delicious spasm caught in her stomach and her body arched. The lightning flashed again. His eyes returned to hers, and she saw his predatory hunger there, the wolf howling to the moonlight.
“You never spoke to me all day,” she whispered.
“Because, my dear, each time I tried, you blushed. I did not think you would wish it to be obvious.” His fingers slipped lower and circled her navel.
“I couldn’t stop thinking of you.”
“And I you.”
Another flash of lightning lit up his handsome face. She fought to preserve it in memory as her fingers gripped the back of his head and pulled him down while his fingers slipped between her thighs. “Know that I love you,” she said to his lips, her heart bursting.
He pressed one long kiss on her mouth then moved lower and kissed her breast.
She sighed and arched, stretching, cat-like, her arms reaching above her head, and saw the letter from Violet’s solicitor, which Meg had brought up earlier, discarded on the bedside table. Jane did not wish to think of the future, not now, not for one more night. In the morning she would, but she wanted just one more night with Robert. She gave herself up to his adoration.
~
Daylight shone through the window when Jane woke, as though the storm had never happened. Robert was gone. The only evidence left of his presence was the dent in the pillow where his head had lain, and the subtle smell of sex in the sheets. Jane smelled the pillow, breathing in his scent. He used rosemary in his hair wash.
Through the window, she heard the hounds barking in the courtyard on the other side of the house.
She realised, suddenly, it must be Robert. He must be there, about to ride out with the hounds.
Jane smiled and stretched, then remembered her letter. She rolled over, picked it up, and slipped her fingernail beneath the wax seal. There were two letters, one from the solicitor and a second smaller sealed piece of paper which bore Joshua’s brash scrawl.
Her heart beating harder, Jane sat up and read the solicitor’s precise script first. The query he’d identified had been addressed. There was nothing more he could do. It looked, he said, very much as though the will would be overturned and the proceeds awarded to Joshua, in which case, Jane must return everything. Her fingers shook as she picked up Joshua’s letter. It would place her in his debt. It was what Hector had intended all along, to tie her to his son.
Her thumb broke open Joshua’s letter, and her eyes skimmed across his words. Threats, all of it. What he would do if she did not comply. How he intended to break her. But worse still, how he intended breaking anyone she hid behind. Violet and Robert were named, with reference to their financial affairs and the possibility of accidents which may befall them. The letter slipped from Jane’s fingers and fell to the floor. Her hand covered her mouth as it trembled.
Outside, the hounds barked and whined for Robert’s attention.
She had to go to him, be with him. It might be the last opportunity they
had to be alone.
She rose in a rush, found her habit, then fought to dress alone. Calling Meg would just delay, and Robert would be gone. At least the buttons were at the front.
Moments later, Jane raced downstairs, her hair in a loose chignon secured roughly with several pins and her hat left behind. She leapt from the bottom step, her fingers gripping the newel post, and swung about it, rushing towards the door to the front courtyard. She was breathless when she reached it, her chest heaving, but the cobbles were still damp, so she had to slow her pace. Her quarry was there, checking the girth strap of his saddle. Early morning sunshine shone above them, silhouetting the ancient keep at the heart of the house against a blue sky.
“Robert! Can I come?” she called as her feet struck the cobbles in a steady rhythm, her legs slashing at her skirt.
The hounds strolled over to greet her with their measured strides, yet their tails whipped from side to side, expressing pleasure and a hope to be stroked.
Robert straightened as he looked back and smiled, his appreciation blatantly written in his eyes. He was so handsome. She smiled, too. She couldn’t not. She loved him so much.
But then she noticed the groom watching, and realised how imprudent they were being. If the servants hadn’t been certain before, she had just given them another sign there was something between the Earl and her.
“Hello, sweetheart,” he said in a low drawl as she approached, his gaze skimming over her habit with a look of hunger.
“Good morning. May I come with you? Do you mind?” Her eyes darted to the groom, to tell Robert to cease using endearments.
He merely cast her a wicked smiled and said, “Heavens, darling, why would I mind? I love your company.”
She widened her eyes in another warning.
Robert turned away. “James, run about to the stables and have them saddle up a mare for Her Grace.”
As the groom obeyed with a quick tilt of his cap, Robert looked back at her and said loudly, “Did you sleep well, Your Grace?”
Oh, the rogue.
“More than well,” she answered, feeling a blush.
“I did not.” His eyes glinted impishly. “I was disturbed.”
Her mouth opened, though heaven knew what she should say to that. She shut it again, in no state to fence with him in his rakehell mood.
“The thunderstorm,” he enthused, “was extremely disturbing, but in a very invigorating way, I suppose.”
“Oh, the thunderstorm.”
He bent to whisper as the groom reached the edge of the courtyard just beyond the raised portcullis and headed in the direction of the stables. “Yes, darling, the thunderstorm.”
“I wish you would not tease,” she answered as he pulled away and patted his stallion with one hand while his other held the animal’s reins. The hounds wandered anxiously in circles, waiting for their chance to run.
“Do you now?” he said, not looking back. “Well, I would make a good guess you are out of luck. Sorry, love, but this is me, faults, foibles, and all.”
Oh, she loved him, faults, foibles, and all, regardless. It was an unbearable pain today. How could she leave? But she had to. Joshua had threatened him, too.
“Well, you,” she whispered a little breathlessly. “I would like to ride out to the abbey ruins. May we?”
“The ruins?” She had his attention again and met his questioning gaze. She refused to answer that look, not yet, not for as long as possible.
Of course, he must know it was a sentimental trip. The ruins bordered his property and what had once been her father’s. It was one of the places they used to meet. She longed to preserve new memories there. If she must leave him, at least let her have one more memory to hold on to. “You do not mind?”
“It’s a long ride for a morning’s outing. I cannot take the hounds if we go so far.”
“I know, but I have not been there for so long. I just – I want to see it again. May we?”
His gloved fingers lifted her chin then touched her cheek, communicating something he didn’t speak. They dropped as his groom shouted and horseshoes rung on the cobble.
Robert looked over his shoulder. “James, you’ll have to give the hounds a run. We’re going too far out.”
“Aye, my Lord,” the first groom answered with a tug of his forelock as another led a mare into the courtyard.
The second man held the collars of the hounds as they yelped and complained, while Robert bent to check the girth strap, tugging it to be sure it was tight. Then he straightened and slapped the animal’s flank before turning back to Jane. “Come on then. Let’s get you up.”
He made a step for her, as he’d always done, then turned to his own mount, and lifted easily into the saddle.
“Come on,” he said, tapping his heels, to walk the horse on. The hounds began barking in chorus behind them. Both grooms held the dogs between them as they strained to be free; they did not appreciate being left behind.
“I think I am unpopular,” Jane said to Robert’s back.
Robert tossed her a smile over his shoulder. “They’ll have their run. Just not with me. But we can give the horses a good stretch in any case. Let’s blow away the cobwebs.”
“I’d like that. You’ll have to lead though. I’ve never ridden from Farnborough to the ruins.”
He rose into a trot and glanced sideways as she drew level. “Whereas I could ride it in my sleep.”
She nodded sharply as pain struck her breast. She was going to hurt him soon. This would be their last ride together, and that was why she wished to go to the ruins. It seemed to her to be the right place to say goodbye.
Robert kicked into a steady canter, the gravel crunching beneath the stallion’s stride.
Jane followed.
Once past the formal gardens, he pulled the rein to the right, turning off the drive and into an open meadow where the deer herd grazed. Then he caught her out and spun his stallion instead of riding on.
She halted her mare.
“Now that we are out of sight,” he said, leaning towards her, bracing her nape and lifting off his saddle – then he kissed her, open-mouthed.
She was breathless when he pulled away, and her body was wobbling aspic again.
He gave her a rakish smile then turned his horse.
She had to leave him. She had to.
For the first time since she’d asked him to take her on to the lake, she regretted her decision. Yesterday, she’d lived on a cloud. Today, she’d toppled back to earth. She knew she had to do this.
“Is something wrong?” he called back when she hadn’t followed. His smile had fallen, and his dark eyes clearly sought to fathom her expression, sensing some change in her.
She shook her head. “No.” She couldn’t say it yet. It was suddenly very important to her that they reached the ruins. There, where they had first fallen in love, she would feel better and be strong enough to speak. She forced a smile.
“Hurry then,” he called, leading on to a path running into the woods.
She kicked into a canter, passed him, and urged the mare into a gallop. Wind caught at her skirt and her hair, freeing wisps from the pins, and Robert’s stallion thundered past as he gave the animal its head, riding low in the saddle.
They raced on through the grass avenue leading through the woods then out into open grassland. The animals’ hooves pounded on the moist ground with dense thuds. Their pace was reckless on the slippery grass, but neither she nor Robert had ever cared for reserve when it came to riding.
She felt so many things, exhilarated, in love, happy, and desperately sad, all at once, as they reached the gate at the edge of the parkland. She felt like leaping from the saddle and clinging to Robert as he leaned to release the gate and held it for her to walk her mare through. She did not wish to leave, but what else could she do? Once he’d come through, he re-secured it behind them.
The track they’d joined led them past some of the farm cottages, which meant they must ride at a more
sedate trot. Robert acknowledged his tenants, lifting his hand.
“Lord Barrington! M’lord,” one man called, beckoning Robert as he leaned on a garden wall. Jane had to stop, too, and keep her mare steady. She could hardly ride on while Robert spoke to the man. They discussed the harvest and the impact of both the drought and last night’s storm, which had knocked down the ripe wheat.
It was a testimony to show her she was making the right choice. They were no longer young. Robert had responsibilities. People relied on him. She could not entangle Robert in the Suttons’ games.
Robert called to her then introduced his tenant.
She blushed when he gave her name.
He’d spoken as though she was his future. There could be no fairy-tale ending. Happily-ever-after had never been her fate. That hope had died years before when Robert had ridden away and left her alone.
“Your Grace?” Robert called her thoughts back to the conversation. “Samuels was saying he remembers your parents fondly. He was offering condolences.”
Her attention focused back on Robert, and her heart ached and burned with bitterness and anger.
When she faced the farmer, she saw speculation in his eyes. She was out riding alone with Robert, after all, and staying with him.
“Forgive me, Mr. Samuels. My thoughts were elsewhere for a moment. Thank you for your concern.” Her voice was stiff. But it was a long time ago and I have no fondness left for them.
“I used to work on a farm for y’ur father, Y’ur Grace. ‘E was a good man, was ‘is Lordship. ‘Tis a shame ‘e had no son.”
Jane’s heart thumped as the man waited for her answer, his hand on the wall.
Behind him, Jane saw a cockerel in pursuit of a hen, strutting across the small yard. Its neck craned as it crowed.
She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
Her father had locked her prison cell. “A shame he had no son.” Had she been a boy, she would have inherited. Certainly, she could not have been forced into marriage.
Oh, she was in a melodramatic mood today, but she didn’t care. What befell her father and his property was her father’s fault. And she could not regret that she’d not borne a son. What she’d done with Robert had been beautiful. It would have been foul with Hector. Thank God he’d held that opportunity from her.