A Jewel In Time; A Sultry Sisters Anthology

by Barbara Devlin

“My lord, ladies, and gentlemen, dinner is served.” The butler bowed.

  “Thank goodness, as I am starved.” Helen pressed a palm to her belly. “I am so hungry, I could eat my toenails.”

  “Including your much agitated big toe?” Mark inquired, as he escorted Amanda on his right and Helen on his left.

  “Oh, don’t remind me, young Douglas.” Helen elbowed him in the ribs. “You know how my gout plagues me.”

  In the dining room, Mark pulled out a chair and settled Amanda, and she expected him to assume the seat beside her. To her dismay, he escorted Helen to the position at Papa’s left, and then Mark perched on the opposite side of the table from Amanda. It was then she noticed the place settings. Of course, her parents would never allow her such proximity to her prospective husband, even in relaxed company.

  The meal consisted of Papa’s favorites, white soup, followed by a ragout of beef with a compliment of macaroni and cheese. It was simple but comforting fare, which Amanda needed at that moment, because her sire commenced the interrogation.

  “So your father is Viscount Trematon?” Papa queried.

  “Yes, sir.” Mark nodded.

  “And you are the second son.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “Indeed, sir.” Mark glanced at her and winked. “But I am my own person.”

  “As I made you free with my name, you must call me Hiram.” Her father signaled for another glass of wine. “How did you amass your fortune?”

  “I saved my portion of the prizes taken at sea,” Mark explained. “Some monies I invested in timber and tobacco, in the Americas, and I have enjoyed a substantial return. Also, I own a sugar plantation in Jamaica, but my workers are employed, as I will not support the practice of slavery. And my portfolio includes various properties in London, along with an estate in Kent.”

  “You have done well for yourself, Lieutenant.” Her mother reclined in her chair, and Amanda knew Mark had snared Mama. “And very impressive at such a tender age.”

  “Please, call me Mark.” How could he remain so calm, when Amanda wanted to scream, if only to ease the tension investing her frame? “And I learned the value of a pound as a boy, when the viscountcy fell on hard times.”

  How unfair was it that, as Mark charmed her parents, she found herself falling in love with him, all over again? And she ached for him, as he described his relationship with his older brother, who, despite the luck of birth, still viewed Mark as competition, much to her lieutenant’s expressed regret and inability to resolve the conflict.

  “And what are your plans for the future?” her father inquired.

  “No offense, Hiram, but I want your job.” Mark tugged at his crisp white stock.

  “You aspire to the Admiralty?” Her father appeared surprised. “You are a career naval man?”

  “I am, sir.” The firm set of Mark’s jaw underscored his tenacity. “There is no nobler profession, in my humble estimation, and I shall serve my commission until I die.”

  “Well said, Mark.” How proud Amanda was of her sailor, and she yearned to kiss him.

  “But, for some men, the sea is sufficient mistress,” her mother added, with a frown. “To the detriment of all else.”

  In that instant, Amanda made a mental note to apologize to her sister. As her brother-in-law Henry had endured similar cross-examination, Amanda had teased and taunted Olivia, without mercy. Given her fragile nerves and unstable belly, Amanda feared she might embarrass herself, and it was no less than she deserved.

  “That may be--for some men.” Mark caught Amanda in a penetrant stare. “But my heart has plenty of room for a wife and children, with which God may see fit to bless us.”

  And so her beau anchored her, and she exhaled in relief.

  “That is comforting to know, Lieutenant. And as we are family tonight, why do we not adjourn to the drawing room for our dessert and tea?” Her mother stood. “And I shall have the brandy brought from your study, Hiram.”

  “I need to speak with young Douglas, Eleanor.” Her father rubbed the small of his back, after he rose from his chair. “In private.”

  “It can wait until we have sampled your most cherished treat.” Her mother smiled, and Amanda realized the entire meal had been planned to soften her father’s mood for the impending discussion. “Cook made the apple snow just for you, and you would not want to disappoint her.”

  “All right, Eleanor.” Her father chuckled. “You know, very well, apple snow always reminds me of my days in shortcoats.”

  And so they retraced their earlier steps, and Amanda led Mark to the chaise, near the hearth. As it accommodated only two, they could converse freely, if they lowered their voices.

  “This looks delicious.” Mark dug a healthy portion with his spoon.

  “It is quite good, only I am not fond of the garnish.” Amanda wrinkled her nose. “Would you like my cherry?”

  “Given it is yours, it is all the more sweet.” Mark waggled his brows. “So how am I doing?”

  “Oh, Mark. You are indomitable, as ever.” Amanda cast a surreptitious glance at her father. “I do not foresee any impediments to our nuptials. I mean, what objection could Papa have, in light of your excellent credentials, connections, and fortune?”

  “Indomitable?” He snickered and blushed, and she craved his kiss. “High praise, sweetheart.”

  “Oh, quite indomitable, sir.” She studied his lips and imagined them pressed to a wide variety of places on her body. “And I wish to marry soon.”

  “Define soon.” He scraped clean his dessert dish. “As I can be summoned to Greenwich without notice.”

  “Then by Christmas, at least, and not a day beyond.” She bounced with nervous excitement. “We would celebrate our first holiday, as husband and wife, and how I love the sound of that.”

  “All right, my officious little thing.” He gave her a playful nudge. “We shall wed--”

  “Douglas, it is past due for our discussion.” Her father delivered his empty dessert dish to the tea trolley. “My study--now.”

  And just like that, the spell broke, and Amanda thought she might be physically ill.

  “Wish me luck.” Mark trailed the pad of his thumb along the curve of her cheek.

  “You will not need it.” She could only pray she was right. “But good luck, just the same.” Alone, Amanda moved to sit beside her mother on the sofa.

  “Oh, do not worry, my dear.” Her mother offered a cup of tea, which Amanda declined with a shake of her head. “Your young man seems a strong, sensible sort.”

  “And he is in love with you.” Helen snorted. “Daresay wedding bells shall ring before the New Year.”

  “Bite your tongue, Helen.” Her mother scoffed. “How could I possibly plan a suitable ceremony in a mere fortnight?”

  “Then perhaps you should begin preparations, posthaste, Mama.” Amanda wrung her fingers. “Because Mark and I wish to take our vows, at once. And I expect he will ask Papa to secure a special license.”

  “Well you might have given me some warning, my dear.” Her mother deposited her cup and saucer on the trolley and checked off an imaginary list. “First thing in the morning, I must contact the modiste, the milliner, and, oh bother, the archbishop. We must publish the banns, and I should speak with Cook about the menu for the reception.”

  At that very second, Mark stormed into the foyer. Amanda leaped from her seat, with Mama and Helen in her wake. When her father shook Mark’s hand, Amanda squealed in delight. But then Mark clicked his heels and saluted.

  “You may depend on me, sir. I will not fail you.” And then Mark, with a furrowed brow and a troubled gaze, faced her. “I am so sorry, Amanda.”

  With that, he turned and exited, without so much as a backward glance.

  “Hiram, what has happened?” Her mother hugged Helen, as the two manifested palpable shock.

  “Mark, come back.” As her world teetered on end, Amanda made to follow, but her father caught her by the arm. With a plaintive cry,
she wrenched free. “Papa, what have you done?”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  In the dark, Mark pulled the lapels of his coat and shivered, as the cold night air penetrated his uniform, and he remained in a state of heightened awareness. Given the dim light of the crescent moon, it would be just his luck to fall victim to some overzealous watchman. Glancing from side to side, he crept along the alleyway, which opened to the mews and the back gate described in the urgent missive Amanda had sent. For a few seconds, he loomed in the shadows, as he considered and reconsidered his exacting obeisance of her summons.

  “Psst. Mark, are you there?”

  “Amanda?” He nearly jumped out of his skin. “Is that you?”

  “Hurry.” The latch and hinges creaked in protest, as she swung open the tiny portal. “Before someone sees you.”

  “All right.” He noted the expansive gardens and frowned. “Just what are you--”

  “Will you be quiet?” She grabbed him by the wrist. “Come with me, and keep your voice down.”

  In silence, they wound their way along a narrow path, which twisted and turned through various flowerbeds, hedgerows, and a small maze, and then veered left, toward the main house. They entered the elegant residence through the terrace doors, and Mark caught his toe on a piece of furniture. He winced, and Amanda halted, which caused him to bump into her.

  “Shh.” Then his lady brought his hands to rest on her waist, and the old Jolly Roger roused to full alert. “Stay close, as I could navigate my home with my eyes closed.”

  Once again, without serious reflection, Mark yielded to her request, despite thoughts to the contrary. From what he could gather, they entered a hallway and turned right. After a series of cautious maneuvers, she paused.

  “There is a staircase here,” she said in a whisper, ascended a single pace, and halted. “There are twelve steps, total, divided by a landing. You can count them.”

  “Amanda--”

  “Hush.” She giggled softly. “We will get where we are going, soon enough, and you may ask all the questions you wish, at our final destination, as we have much to discuss.”

  Ah, so that was her game. No doubt she had numerous inquiries regarding her father’s refusal to allow their wedding, at least, not yet. But he had promised not to divulge the requisite conditions for their betrothal, so he would choose his words with care--and then he tripped. Jolted to reality, in his mind he muttered a caustic curse and then ticked off each successive footfall, as a guide.

  At the second floor, Amanda marched straight ahead, as if going into battle, and Mark smiled to himself--until the marquess loomed as a specter of doom at the other end of the long hallway, illuminated by a single candlestick. In a flash, his lady sidled into a diminutive alcove, which lacked sufficient depth to shield them, should her sire rotate a mere quarter-turn. But the admiral opened a door and argued, presumably, with Amanda’s mother.

  As her parents quarreled, Amanda rested against Mark, dropped her arms to her sides, and squeezed his thighs, which scored a direct hit to his loins, and he clenched his jaw. When she shifted, gazed at him, and mouthed, I love you; he mimicked her oath, bent his head, kissed her, and then hugged her tight.

  “Eleanor, that is my final decision.” The marquess stomped across the hall, slammed shut the oak panel, and darkness fell on the passage.

  Amanda flinched, and then she resumed her course. It was then he discovered they were just shy of her targeted destination, as she opened the very next door and slipped inside, and he trailed her.

  A fire burned in the hearth of the sumptuously appointed sitting room, which boasted telltale accouterments that declared it a woman’s domain. Beyond a second entrance towered an impressive four-poster, with the linens turned down in unmistakable invitation, and Mark froze.

  “Amanda, where have you brought me and to what purpose?” Even as he posed the query, he knew the answer. “This is not a good idea.”

  “I beg to differ, my dashing Lieutenant, as this is a most excellent idea and a noble purpose.” She lingered in his wake. “And what have you to fear, as it is just you, I, and a comfortable bed.”

  “Trust me, that is the most dangerous combination known to humanity.” Unable to tear his interest from the heretofore-innocuous piece of furniture, he swallowed hard. Aware of nothing save a desire to be gone from what he surmised was her private chamber he turned on a heel and discerned she had doffed her coat and slippers. “What in bloody hell are you wearing?” He averted his stare, even as his capriciously loaded cannon primed for a carnal crusade. “Or not wearing?”

  “For a not-so-green lad, are you truly so unacquainted with my attire?” She neared. “To be honest, I had it commissioned in anticipation of our nuptials, and I had hoped to please you. Are you not pleased?”

  “Amanda, it is unwise to tempt a man, thus.” Mark focused on the ceiling and rallied dispassionate thoughts, including images of Helen’s gout-plagued big toe, which afforded serviceable results--until his lady wrapped her arms about his waist and pressed her silk-encased body to his. “Given that I cast off with the Boreas on tomorrow evening’s tide.”

  “What?” Framing his face, she forced him to look at her. “When did you receive your orders?”

  “Only today.” He grimaced, as he had planned to spare her that detail in a letter he had yet to compose. “From your father.”

  “Oh, Mark.” Tears welled, and her chin quivered. “Then we have no time to lose, as I shall be your lady, in deed, if not in name.”

  The significance of her words struck him as the icy waters of the Baltic. “No, Amanda. We cannot possibly--”

  “Yes, we can, and we shall.” Without hesitance, she trod into the bedchamber, and the cleft of her bottom, visible through the gossamer material, foundered his well-established probity and in its place provoked insatiable lust. “And the night grows old, so we must hurry.”

  “You can’t be serious.” He followed at a safe distance, as he was disciplined, not dead, and her sheer nightgown manifested more an afterthought than a functional garment. “And you are my lady, so I would not treat you as a doxy.”

  “But I am quite serious, and I will be your wife, so this is nothing more than premature, but nonetheless remarkable, consummation of our union.” And then she acted completely out of character for a gently reared virgin, when she whisked the diaphanous garb over her head, revealing an inexpressible fantasy of which he could not have conceived. “You will make me yours, now--tonight.”

  “Darling, you are not yourself.” On tenterhooks, and clinging to the last vestiges of self-control, Mark comprised numerous arguments in opposition to her stance, none of which he suspected he possessed sufficient strength to deliver with any degree of conviction. “Amanda, your father--”

  “--Can go to the devil.” With that, she drew the pins from her black hair, and her lustrous locks cascaded over her creamy shoulders, in a stunning display no man enjoyed with his prospective bride until after the vows were sanctioned. With arms outstretched, and blue eyes blazing, she flicked her fingers. “Make me yours, irrevocably.”

  Myriad justifications swirled in his brain as a miasma of confusion. A sense of honor warred with hunger, duty with desire, and fortitude with fervency. In each instance, the latter won. And although he remained rooted to the spot, his debutante persisted without shame, in glorious spirit and courage no man, sane or otherwise, could resist.

  Amanda had just crossed their Rubicon, and he poised on the banks.

  In a flash, Mark retrieved an item from his pocket, and shrugged from his coat, which he flung to a small sofa. In minutes, he sent his stock and waistcoat to join the frock, and then he unfastened the hook at the throat of his lawn shirt. With two stern tugs, he discarded his boots. In a few strides, he stood toe to toe with her, and then he dropped to a knee.

  “My Amanda, you offer me your most precious gift, and I am inclined to accept, in light of our difficult circumstances.” And then the significance of his decla
ration weighed heavy on his heart, as his consent would bind them forever. “But I do so only if you respond, in kind, with my humble present, which I had created as a modest affirmation of our engagement. If you would take this token--”

  “Yes, I accept.” She held out her left hand, and he slid the unpretentious band of white gold on her third finger. “Oh, Mark. It is beautiful, and the engraving is masterful craftsmanship. Ego dilecto meo et dilectus meus mihi.”

  “I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine.” He pressed his lips to her knuckles. “It is a poesy ring, meant to symbolize the depth and permanence of our commitment.”

  “How very Shakespearean of you, my romantic Lieutenant.” And then with neither prompt nor encouragement, she pounced, knocking him on his back and showering his face in kisses.

  Gathering his wits, it dawned on Mark that his Amanda, naked as the day she was born, sprawled atop him. In a scarce second, he reversed their respective positions, and he gave her his weight, as he rested a leg between her thighs. Thrusting his tongue in time with his hips, he hinted at the physical act she sought, as she squirmed and moaned beneath him.

  “Amanda, are you sure about this, because once I claim you, there is no escape.” They rested forehead to forehead. Despite his final warning, which he promised to abide, everything inside him signaled to charge her exquisite field. “You must marry me.”

  “My indomitable Lieutenant--”

  “There is that word, again.”

  “Adequate to my man. And if you do not take me, I shall scream. Wait.” Then she snapped her fingers. “What a wonderful idea. If Papa finds you here, he will force us to marry, and our problem is solved.”

  “Amanda--no.” To his unmitigated horror, she opened her mouth, and he stifled her shout of alarm with his palm. “Are you out of your mind?” He glanced at the door, as if expecting her father to break through without notice. “The Admiral will kill me--if I am lucky, given my state of undress and your utter lack thereof.”

  With a countenance of amusement and a flirtatious giggle, which belied her objective, she unhooked his shirt. And then she wrested free and proclaimed, “I shall make you a bargain, my errant seducer. I will remain silent, if you give me something to occupy my time.”