Lightning Unbound: Even Gods Fall in Love, Book 1

by Lynne Connolly

  Deborah’s expression warmed. “So she is.” She tapped her closed fan against her lips. “Well, there is our weapon. We will see her and her cronies off, never fear. It’s all jealousy, you know.” Faith felt gratitude and something else—jealousy, if she was honest with herself. She wanted that kind of beauty and confidence.

  Faith accepted the hand of the next man who asked her to dance, and the next, and the next. By then, her feet ached but her heart winging with simple pleasure she laughingly refused and accepted an escort to the supper room, where a buffet was laid out on a white clothed table. Faith could have sworn she heard the table groan under the weight of the viands.

  She was teased, flirted with and amused while she ate and drank her fill. As she entered the ballroom, Ellesmere arrived at her side and asked her to accompany him for a stroll around the ballroom. She accepted and, casting a mock tragic look at her last partner, laid a hand on his arm. He bore her off and, when she looked at him, met her gaze with a laughing one of his own. “You’re enjoying yourself.”

  “I am.” She slanted a look at him from under her lashes, making him laugh out loud. “Do you have any objections, sir?”

  “Only that you don’t do it more often.” They negotiated the door between the supper room and the ballroom. “We should make sure you’re seen in society even after your brother is accepted. You enjoy it.”

  She smiled. “The only time I spent significant time in London was as Sir William Bradley’s wife, and the only offers I received dishonourable ones. There are some cats here, but I’ve confronted the worst of them, and I feel much better for it.” She didn’t respond to his questioning glance. She had dealt with the matter herself.

  “Very wise.” He nodded to a matron who lifted her quizzing glass and stared at them through it, her eye hideously magnified by the lens. “If we keep my father sweet, we will achieve the whole thing easier. But it isn’t essential.”

  They stopped their stroll and with one accord turn to stare at each other. “What do we need to do to keep His Grace sweet?”

  “Acquiesce. Show him what is in the arrangement for him and allow him to make the decisions. Or at least to believe he is doing so.”

  Her delighted laugh rippled through her whole body. “You don’t do anything you don’t want to do.”

  “No. I don’t.” Alerted by the unusual silence around them, Faith looked away.

  Every gaze was avidly absorbing the scene. Ellesmere stared at her like a lover, his hands gripped both of hers and they had stared into each other’s eyes for how long she wasn’t sure. Now that brief moment of intimacy had shattered Ellesmere’s reputation for cool disinterest in eligible women. The gossip, never still, would turn to them.

  When she looked back at him, Faith knew he understood the significance of the hush as well as she did. Instead of moving away from her, as he should have done, he lifted her gloved hand to his mouth and kissed it.

  She wished it was on her bare skin, that she could feel his lips caress her. The thought was fleeting and unbidden, but it brought a flush to her face.

  It was all the gossips needed. Now if she pulled away and stalked off they would have scandal for a fortnight. Instead she lowered her gaze and turned, deliberately placing her hand on his arm in the approved manner. He began to walk again. “That was foolish,” she said in a quiet, steady tone.

  “I couldn’t resist,” he replied in the same even way. “I’m sorry. Perhaps the gossip will keep them away for a while. If they think I’m courting you, it will give me a little respite.”

  “Who will believe it?” Faith could keep little from him. Already their accord, enhanced by that strange ability to talk mind to mind, had achieved that. “You’re a duke’s only son and heir. When you marry, it will be to someone great and powerful, a duke’s daughter or a marquess’s heiress. Not me.”

  “Why not you?” His voice, although low ripped through her body savagely. “Why not? You’re as good as anyone else here tonight. As well born and twice as lovely.”

  Now shock replaced the sadness. He couldn’t mean it. He didn’t mean it. “I’m not lovely.”

  “In that godforsaken hellhole you shone out like a star in the darkness,” he said, his voice even once more.

  Faith dared not look at him, afraid of what she might see there. “You can’t marry for love. Or infatuation, or desire.”

  “I will do as I damned well please.” They had almost reached the place where Deborah was sitting, fanning herself in the heat of the hundreds of candles and the press of so many bodies. “Will you meet me later? So that I can explain myself? You deserve that, at least.”

  Her heart seemed to leap into her throat, so hard did it pound, and she couldn’t speak. Finally she got out the single word, “Yes.”

  And wondered what she was doing, what she would do when they were finally alone.

  Chapter Seven

  Once out of the beautiful gown with embroidered amethysts, Faith allowed the maid to help her into a loose sacque without a hoop and wash her hair free of powder. Then she sat in the window seat and waited for his message. It was not long in coming.

  Can you come to me?

  Yes.

  She slipped out of her room, relieved to see the hallway empty. His bedroom lay close to hers, but a floor below, so she took the backstairs. Her slippered feet made hardly a sound on the drugget laid to muffle the activity of the servants, who used this stairway most often.

  She felt no qualms entering his bedroom. If he wanted her, he could have her. She could no longer deny that she wanted him.

  It was a strange feeling, this wanting. The remembrance of her husband’s body could still make her retch if the thought came to her unawares. She still didn’t want the intimate act of coupling, but she would bless an hour spent in Ellesmere’s arms, an hour where she didn’t have to think for herself, to make all the decisions for herself and her brother. The weakness was new and disturbing, but she refused to deny it.

  He stood by the window, dressed in a light banyan of dark blue silk. Below Faith saw he was still dressed in his evening breeches and stockings. No quick seduction, then. She was glad he hadn’t taken that much for granted. He walked across the room to her, his arms loosely by his side. She walked towards him and didn’t stop.

  His arms went about her because they should, because it was right. When she lifted her face to his, he only hesitated a moment, to examine her face before he kissed her.

  His lips gently caressed hers. She had thought his mouth hard, but there was nothing but damp softness. When he opened his mouth she followed suit, and his tongue caressed her lips before he stroked into her mouth. He explored her, and when he withdrew she entered, touching his tongue with hers.

  He tasted so wonderful, so perfect. It was him, the essence of him. Faith knew then that he could take everything and she wouldn’t fight him. She would help him, an eager participant in her seduction.

  He drew his mouth from hers, only to lift one hand to cup her cheek and kiss her again, cupping her face, gently lowering his touch to her neck. Her senses prickled, sending signals to her breasts, her cleft, which dampened, ready for his attention.

  Her waist. He caressed the curve, smoothing his hand over the plane between waist and hip. He drew back, but only so he could speak, his lips next to her. “No stays.”

  “There’s no need with this gown.”

  With a growl, he covered her mouth again with his own. They stood in the centre of his bedroom, kissing and gently caressing for how long she had no idea. When she found the courage to slip one hand inside his banyan to touch heated flesh covered by fine linen, he gave a small moan into her mouth. More intimate than their minds touching, she smoothed her hand over his chest.

  With a suddenness that confused Faith, he broke away and took a step back. His bright eyes held only sorrow, regret. “I shouldn’t have done that. When I saw you, I couldn’t stop myself, but I asked you here for a different reason. I need to speak to you.�
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  Faith glanced at the large, curtained bed, the coverlet turned invitingly down to reveal crisp white sheets. “You know I’m not a virgin. I thought you wanted me.”

  “I did. I do.” He stood completely still, not inviting her to come closer. Then he moved, took the step back to her and caught her around the waist. She melted into him, savouring his hard body, so warm, so hard and the knowledge that he wanted her. “I need to explain something to you.”

  He led her away from the bed, to a sofa that stood at its foot, no doubt meant for daytime rests and peaceful night reading. They sat, and when he pulled her to sit in the shelter of his arm, she snuggled close. He put his free hand under her chin to tilt her head up to his.

  She stared into despair. “I have to tell you why we can never make love, why I can never have a woman. You need to know.” He swallowed. “Forgive me. I’m enjoying the last moments I can have with you.”

  His arm tightened around her waist, drawing her to him with an inevitability she accepted, and he kissed her again. She moved closer, felt his muscles move and contract when he pulled her close, when he lifted his body to press against her. His hands moved over her back in a series of gentle caresses, while his mouth plundered hers, ruthlessly taking. Faith caressed him in return, enjoying the freedom to touch him, to feel his firm flesh under her hands.

  He withdrew gently this time and kept her close. His mouth trailed soft kisses over her face until he reached her forehead. Then he withdrew, but kept his arm about her. He regarded her in silence, and she met his gaze fearlessly. “Why can’t we share more times like this?”

  “Because I have an illness.” He gave a harsh laugh. “I may appear big and strong, but inside I’m a complete wreck.”

  Terror for him gripped her. She imagined he’d tell her that he’d lifted a woman’s skirts and caught the pox. It only took one time to contract the terrible disease. But he had no marks on his face, none of the lesions she had seen in the unfortunates on London’s streets, none of the physical signs. She stayed in his arms, feeling only pity and sorrow.

  He watched her, eyes warm with understanding, and slowly shook his head. “No. It’s not the pox.” He sighed. “Sometimes I wish it were. There’s a chance of a cure with that. What I have is getting worse, and I’m afraid I don’t have much longer. I’ve seen the best doctors, and there’s no hope.”

  “Will you—could you—” she swallowed, “—die?”

  “Yes.” He smoothed his hand on her silk-clad waist as though he couldn’t help himself. “I don’t know how soon, or how.” He took a deep breath. “My blood isn’t red—it runs like water, and it looks like it too. I have episodes of complete lethargy and sometimes I have terrible headaches, so bad I can’t stand upright or bear daylight. Have you ever wondered where I am when I’m not with you?”

  “Of course not. I thought you were at your club or about the town.”

  “I sleep. I spend more time asleep than awake, and still the exhaustion comes.

  Faith shuddered. It was worse than she had imagined. “How is it transmitted?”

  He watched her carefully and drew back, so she wasn’t touching him anymore. “Through my seed. I can’t have full relations with a woman without transmitting the disease. I won’t kill someone else, despite my father’s desire for an heir of his blood.”

  “Is he not petitioning the crown to have Deborah’s husband, whoever he might be, made duke?”

  “That is a possibility, though no means certain.” Gerard revealed nothing of his feelings in his expression. “This illness dies with me. It’s rare, and it’s not inherited. Do you hate me for it, Faith? God knows I hate myself.”

  She didn’t hesitate with her answer. “No.” She spread her hand over his broad chest.

  “Father won’t let me tell anyone.”

  “Have you seen a doctor?”

  “Several. I’ve had every cure known to nature, even eaten raw liver to try to give my blood some colour, but nothing helps.”

  She found her voice. “Do you feel desire?”

  He gave a choked laugh, and his eyes burned into hers. “God, yes. So much I think I might go mad with it. Until recently I stayed away from temptation, from anything that might remind me. I’d hoped the lethargy would take away desire, but it only makes it worse. Especially since you came into my life.”

  Had she been the first person he had trusted? Her mind went to someone else. “Does Deborah know?”

  “She knows everything.” She touched his hand, stroking the back with one finger. He watched the small contact, gazed at it and then his eyes lifted to meet hers. “Do I disgust you?”

  “No. Why should I be disgusted?”

  His hand turned to clasp hers in a gentle grip. His gaze rested on hers, waiting, she guessed, for any sign of revulsion. When he saw none, he pulled her closer, drawing her with a gentle request. She went willingly. No one had made her feel like this. Ever. “Do you feel tired when you kiss me?”

  “No.” His hand stroked the curve of her waist. She felt no repugnance, only pleasure at his touch. “But then I had no intention of allowing myself more than a kiss. I had to tell you. There’s no hope for us, Faith.”

  She admired him more for that. He could have turned her away, said he wasn’t interested in her, but he must have known how badly that would hurt her, so he’d let her into his secret. Trusted her. If he’d planned to melt her heart, he couldn’t have done it better.

  “My father wants me to marry. He’s prepared to allow a woman to marry me, in the probability that she will lose her life too, when the disease passes to her. But the only doctor who was able to give a diagnosis says it will not pass to a child. He’ll get the heir of his body that way.”

  She nestled in his arms, wishing she could give him more comfort, longing for what he said she couldn’t have. But she wouldn’t give. If he wanted her, she would find a way to give him pleasure. There must be a way.

  Lifting her hand from his chest, she stroked his cheek, still smooth from the shave he’d had before dressing for the ball. He turned his head and kissed the palm, his kiss sending shivers through her. “May I tell you something now?”

  “Of course. Anything.”

  “I told you William was kind. He was. I tried, but it wasn’t pleasant.” She couldn’t repress a shudder. In response he pulled her closer and she snuggled into his warmth. “William was seventy, and not a good seventy. His teeth had long gone, most of them, and he said it wasn’t healthy to keep washing, especially in winter. I married him in November.” She paused. “It was a long winter.” She ignored his soft moan of sympathy. She wanted to tell him this and if she stopped she wouldn’t start again.

  “By the spring I’d learned to cope. I thought of something else when he—came to me. William never knew how much I hated it, at least I hope he didn’t, because he gave George and me a home. He was never cruel, never unfair. He left me enough in his will to keep us in comfort, but in a moment of sheer madness and terror I signed that over to my father. He’s now my trustee for the funds, and so I get none.”

  Sympathy lit his light eyes. “Why did you do it?”

  “He threatened to kill George. He held a pistol to his head and said he would tell the authorities George had committed suicide. I signed.”

  Tension thrummed through his body. Faith felt it where she touched him, felt the muscles instinctively tighten. “Dear God, I thought my father was controlling. The man’s a monster.”

  She shrugged. “Maybe. I have no feelings for him anymore.” That wasn’t precisely true. She feared her father, knew that even here he would reach out for her and her brother. Alone she could have made a life for herself, concealed herself or surrounded herself with people who would deny her father access to her, but not with George. He made her vulnerable. “William kept his promises. I will always regret I couldn’t give him his heir, but I think the problem lay with him, not me. I was his last chance.”

  “Did he hate his heir?”r />
  She laid her head on his shoulder, comforted when he lifted his free hand to cradle her head. His fingers smoothed through her loose hair. “No, but his heir was a distant relative. Like your father, he wanted an heir of his body. It wasn’t his fault he was seventy and I was eighteen.”

  “I would say he should never have married you, but without him your plight might have been worse.”

  “Much worse. Now my father is looking for another profitable connection he can use me to acquire. I’ve managed to fend off a couple already.” She sighed. “Old men, all. I think my father wants me to marry a succession of old men and kill them all off. He’ll arrive soon—he’s bound to discover where I am.”

  She had tried for humour, but it came out as despair. With a small murmur of sympathy, he enclosed her in his arms, pressed his lips to her forehead. “He will not take you. You should have someone younger, someone who can make you happy.”

  “I don’t want anyone,” she said into his robe. “I don’t want to marry ever again.”

  He chuckled, surprising her so she lifted her head. “What a pair we are. Embracing like lovers, yet determined to celibacy.” He stared into her eyes and she blinked away the weakening tears so she could see him properly. He waited until she had recovered and smiled shakily. “So courageous,” he said, and kissed her, softly, sweetly, with a care that made her feel as if she was made of fine china.

  Faith had never felt so safe in her adult life before. She yearned to stay here, with her illusion of security, for the whole night, but she could not. She stayed within his arms for a while, she didn’t know how long, and enjoyed the companionship, trying to douse the flame of arousal that burned between them so inappropriately.

  When she lifted her head, she found him watching her. A smile passed between them, and then he bent and kissed her.

  The fire she had so carefully tried to suppress roared back into full flame. She answered his longing, gave him her own and finally opened her mind to him.