Gasping with outrage, yet reasonable enough to be unable to reject so simple and honest a reply, Megaera could only shift her attack to new grounds. “Why was that woman virtually licking her chops when she looked at me?”
“Because she thought you were a boy,” Philip answered provocatively. “Although,” he continued with a grave, judicial air, “I daresay she would have been interested even if she knew you were a woman. Of course, beautiful female whores are common enough. It is much harder to obtain boys.”
He jumped out of the way as Megaera launched a kick at his shin. Her eyes were blazing, her face flushed with frustration, but she could not help laughing at the same time. Philip caught her in his arms and kissed her passionately. She struggled against him at first, but not for long. Soon her arms came up around him and her mouth opened under his. Little more could be accomplished until the layers of clothing were removed, and as soon as Philip released her mouth to untie the scarf that held her hat, Megaera was demanding explanations again.
“Don’t be so mean, Philip. What in the world does that woman want with a boy, beautiful or not? Do women come to these places too? And even so, why didn’t she seem in the least surprised that you should bring me here? What would a man want with a beautiful boy?”
“My love,” Philip said, pulling off her hat and beginning to unbutton her coat, “you would be very shocked if I answered you.”
“I would rather be shocked than ignorant,” Megaera snapped, slapping his hands away from her coat.
“Do you not want a bath, sweetheart?” Philip wheedled. “You certainly need one—although I love you just as much when you stink.”
“I can believe it!” she exclaimed spitefully.
“Oh, no,” Philip protested, grinning again, “my women were always the best class of whores—clean, reasonably intelligent, quite handsome—”
“I’m surprised you bothered with me!”
The laughter left his face, and he touched her gently. “I love you. Meg, I have never tried to hide what I am. I am not ashamed of it. I did no decent woman any harm and, I hope, was fair to those who make their living from their bodies. That has nothing to do with us. I love your body, Meg, it is very beautiful, but if—and God forbid it—anything should happen that made it impossible for me ever to couple with you again, I would love you just as much. It is you I love, not the act.”
She stared at him, utterly silenced by his deep seriousness. Megaera was desperately unsure of what she wanted. Everywhere she looked there were new difficulties. If Philip offered her a carte blanche, she must reject it, but even if he should offer marriage, and it was certain that he was not contemplating a casual relationship, she did not think she could accept. His family would be appalled—a widow dowered only with a mountain of debt was sufficiently unappealing. When the tale of her unhesitating surrender to Philip and her smuggling activities was added, they would disown him rather than accept her.
Philip had no notion of Megaera’s thoughts, but his—except for the question of the carte blanche, which he had dismissed long ago—were roughly similar. He was not fearful of being disowned and cut off without a penny. He did not misunderstand his father and stepmother so widely as that, but he was deeply concerned that he would give them pain in choosing a woman of whom they “could not approve”. This did not cause any wavering in his determination to marry Meg; it only made him wonder how he could cushion the blow for his parents.
Megaera was so responsive to him in every way that Philip felt she could read his mind. Because he had intended to marry her for so long, it never occurred to him that he had not mentioned this fact to her. He slipped off his outer clothes and stood watching her bathe, trying to decide whether he should take her directly to London, get a special license and present Roger and Leonie with a fait accompli. That would save argument and permit him to live with Meg while they got used to the idea. It would also prevent them from hoping they could change his mind by gentle, indirect persuasion.
On the other hand, it would hurt them bitterly that he should marry a woman he had known for months without even mentioning her to them. Also, it might put a permanent strain on the relationship between his family and Meg, and that would be dreadful. It would be worth depriving himself of her sweet body—although at the moment, watching her as he was, he was not at all sure he would survive so painful a deprivation—if he could induce his parents to accept her gladly. The debt could not be concealed, but perhaps…
The thought became irrelevant as Megaera prepared to rise from the tub. Philip came forward holding a towel in which to wrap her. His offer to be her lady’s maid was not refused. Megaera also wished to drown her fears about the future in a sea of physical sensation. Philip did not disappoint her and she uttered no complaint, even though he was not nearly as efficient as Rose. In fact some parts of her were just as wet when he was finished as they had been when she came out of the bath. Other parts, however, were treated much more thoroughly, and nothing Rose had ever done felt so good.
Between sighs and kisses Megaera returned the compliment and served as Philip’s valet, ridding him of shirt, breeches, and underclothes. From his expression and reactions he also found her ministrations more interesting than those of his regular servant. In any case they did not spend too much time comparing notes over preliminaries. They had not touched, in the sense of lovemaking, since their last night in Paris, and both were eager.
Dropping the towel, Philip pulled off his shoes and stockings. Megaera had already disappeared between the curtains of the bed and he followed her without delay. He caught her in the act of climbing into the bed and grabbed her ankle. He kissed her toes, the sole of her foot, ignoring her gasps which were half laughter from being tickled and half increasing desire, then ran his lips up her calf to the bend of the knee. Her breath drew in sharply—and not because Philip was tickling her. Involuntarily her thighs opened. Philip kissed them, her buttocks the small of her back.
Megaera tried to turn, but he held her as she was, pulled her back toward him so that she was kneeling on the bed, and took her that way. She gurgled with surprise when he entered, but Megaera was readily adaptable, particularly when each new device Philip tried furnished exquisite pleasure. This, like riding him, allowed her freedom of movement and made even more of her body available to his hands and lips. He kissed her in places she had not even imagined lips could reach during coupling so that all too soon she slid forward burying her face in the bedclothes to muffle her shrieks of pleasure.
“Tm sorry,” she whispered to Philip when he, too, was finished and she had helped him crawl into the bed beside her. “I hope my noise won’t bring them all around our ears. But, really, Philip, the ideas you get!”
“The result of my misspent life,” he said wickedly. “And believe me, screaming your head off would not raise an eyebrow in this house. I imagine from the way you were gaping at everything, Madame rather expected you would do some screaming.”
“Why?”
“Because you were not familiar with such a place and would not expect what would happen.” He had answered lazily, hardly thinking what he was saying, half asleep in the aftermath of a climax nearly as violent as Megaera’s.
“What are you talking about?” she asked, then shook him. “Philip, stop teasing and tell me. First it was funny, but now—screaming—I would rather be shocked than imagine horrors. If it is so dreadful, why did you—”
“I? No, love, not I,” he exclaimed. “Never! I swear it! But in a boys’ school one hears and sees things, and it is particularly common among sailors, from their being cooped up with only men for such long periods of time. I know a good many sailors.”
“It. But what is it?”
Philip shrugged. “There are other orifices in the body, Meg. A boy can be taken as you were, except—”
“Oh, my goodness! She looked at him with wide eyes. “No wonder screams were expected. It must be horribly painful and—and wouldn’t
it squeeze you—I mean the man doing it—dreadfully?”
Philip burst out laughing. “You are the most—most… Are you not even a little shocked, love?”
“I’m horrified,” she replied honestly, “but—but it seems so unlikely. Are you roasting me, Philip?” He shook his head silently, and she saw he was telling the truth. “I simply cannot see what pleasure—”
“Neither can I, sweetheart,” Philip assured her, “and I never could, so it is useless to ask me any more questions. All I can tell you is hearsay, but those who have a taste for it seem to enjoy it fully as much as you and I. It may be hard to believe…“
“It certainly is.”
But Megaera’s voice was rather absent, as Philip’s had been before it had drifted away. He seemed more interested in the shape of her lips at the moment than in the words coming out of them. To be sure he had not forgotten their shape, because his mouth had been engaged in other activities previously, he pressed them with his. Megaera understood his problem and pressed back firmly to be certain the imprint would be clear. From there on they behaved far more conventionally but no less enjoyably. Afterward neither had strength for answers or questions. Both slept.
Philip woke some hours later, told Meg to stay quietly inside the curtains until he called her out, and rang for the servants to remove the bath and bring dinner. He noticed several curious looks directed toward the closed bedcurtains, but ignored them, refraining from smiling with an effort. A wardrobe in the room had furnished a dressing gown for him and, after the meal was brought and the door relocked, Philip found another for Megaera. There were women’s robes also, but he preferred that she don the too-large man’s gown.
By now, for all he knew, new peepholes might have been opened. If Madame should come to suspect they were wanted by the police, which she might if she realized Megaera was concealing her sex, she might turn them in to curry favor. They had discussed this problem in low voices before Philip got out of bed, so Megaera knew just what to do. They ate quickly, and when Megaera was finished, she snatched her clothes and went to hide behind the bedcurtains to dress. Philip pretended to try to tempt her out, but she resisted his blandishments and only emerged completely clothed.
A good part of what Philip had been saying were promises to buy the “boy” presents. When Megaera came out from behind the curtains, she refused to allow Philip to kiss her, pretending that she wanted her “presents” first. Whether or not they were watched, Philip was taking no chances. They maintained the pretense consistently, and soon both donned coats and hats to go out. Madame was at the foot of the stairs when they came down, to ask what the trouble was and to suggest, if Philip was through with the boy, that he be left with her.
“An excellent idea,” Philip agreed. “I would hate to think of him back on the streets again, and it would be lovely to know he would be here when I return. However, I am not yet ready to part with him. I am only taking him out to buy him a trinket.”
The woman smiled significantly. “Don’t spoil him,” she warned.”
But they didn’t turn in the direction of the shops once they were out of sight. Instead they made for the docks, where, in the last of the daylight, they saw the Bonne Lucie. Both stopped dead. Megaera started to shake. Now, with safety so close, they began to fear they could not achieve it. They had just started forward again when a burly form cannoned into Philip, nearly sending him sprawling on the filthy, fishgut-laden street. Philip uttered an angry-seeming oath, but permitted his arm to be seized and listened to Pierre’s voice offering a drunken-sounding apology and urging him to come have a drink as a “settler”.
Megaera’s fears evaporated, and so did the difficulties. Philip never found out what story Pierre had told the keeper of the wineshop. He was careful not to ask after he saw the leer the man gave him. What was important was that he looked the other way while all three disappeared into a back room from which only two men, both garbed as seamen and both seeming past middle age, emerged. Between them the men carried a barrel of cordage. At the dock a guard glanced at their identification perfunctorily, kicked the barrel, which did not slosh and thus could not be liquor on which the tax had not been paid, and let them go.
In Pierre’s tiny cabin they all embraced. Megaera wept a little with joy and relief, and Philip gave a brief summary of their adventures. “The only thing I regret,” he said, “was that we had to leave that parcel of silk with Meg’s clothing.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said.
“But why ees eet necessary?” Pierre asked. “Where deed you leave them?”
“With the saddle at the stable where we left the horses. I would not say they were necessary, only I hate to bring Meg ashore in England dressed as a boy. There will be talk…”
“Tell me what the package looks like, and Mademoiselle Meg weell ‘ave eet,” Pierre said, smiling at her fondly. “And do you want to do sometheeng about the ‘orses?”
“No they will be all right. The owner will sell them after a while to pay for the feed and, in the meantime, they will get a good rest. Poor beasts, they deserve it.”
“If the horses are all right,” Megaera protested, “it’s stupid to go for the clothes. What do I care about talk in Kent or Sussex?”
“Well, I care,” Philip said. “I live in Kent!”
Megaera was hurt, but neither man noticed. Pierre remarked that he had to speak to the harbor master about leaving port, so he might as well pick up Meg’s parcel anyway. Megaera promptly forgot her hurt in fear for Pierre.
“Don’t let him,” she begged Philip.
“It will be no trouble for him, love,” Philip soothed. “He feels left out. We have had all the adventures. And you might as well have the silks.” He looked sternly at her. “You will not be seeing so much of Pierre, so he cannot bring you others. I have not changed my mind. No more smuggling for you.” He kissed the scar on her scalp, where the hair was just beginning to grow in around the thin line that marked her wound.
“You cannot assume the debt for Bolliet,” she said faintly.
“Since I still do not know how much it is,” Philip pointed out dryly, “I do not know whether I can or not, but I told you not to worry about that anymore. Something will be arranged. Now, I must go first to London to deliver Cadoudal’s letters and the papers we took from Charon. Most likely they will keep me for several days asking all kinds of questions—mostly irrelevant. But after that, my love, I will escort you back to Cornwall and I will speak to this precious sister of yours. If she is too proud to accept my help, then she must ‘dree her ane weird’, as it is said. She cannot batten on you any longer.”
“But Philip—”
“Do not ‘but Philip’ me,” he snapped angrily. “I will see that your father comes to no hurt. Perhaps he can be established in a wing of Dymchurch House if you desire that he be near you—”
“Philip—”
“I will not listen! This is ridiculous! I cannot bear to see you so worried. I tell you that if your sister were worth one hair on your head, she would never have permitted you to endure such dangers for her. Did she ever—”
“There is no sister,” Megaera cried desperately, and burst into tears.
Philip gathered her into his arms. She cried so seldom; she had passed through such horrible dangers without crying. “Do not cry, love,” he pleaded. “Do not cry. If she is so precious you, I will learn to love her. We will see…“ His voice stopped as the sense of Megaera’s words came to him. He had been reacting only to her pain. “What did you say?” he asked.
“I said there is no sister,” Megaera sobbed. “I am Megaera Devoran, Mrs. Edward Devoran.”
There was a rather long silence, during which Megaera clung to Philip while his arms gradually released their hold on her. Finally he gently undid her grip on him and moved back a step. “Did I hear you aright?” he asked. “Was that story all a lie?”
“Not the debt. Only—only who I was,” Megaera whis
pered.
“But why?” Philip breathed “Why did you lie to me?”
“I was afraid,” she confessed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand like a child.
“After what was between us you still thought I would betray you or blackmail you?” Philips voice was cold.
“You don’t understand! When I saw you at the Moretons’ I couldn’t think what you were doing there. I believed then that you were Pierre’s natural. What could I guess but that you were cully-catching?”
“Even so,” Philip said, “what had that to do with you and me? Does a man, even a cully-catcher, gull the woman he loves?”
‘“But I thought—”
Unfortunately Philip did not allow her to finish. If he had let Megaera go on she would have mentioned Désirée and he would have understood that fear and jealousy had combined to unbalance her judgment. Instead he chose to leave the cabin, to walk the deck and fume until Pierre returned with the package and with permission to sail with the tide. He, asking innocently whether Meg was asleep, was treated to a full, furious recitation on women’s deviousness and lack of faith. Pierre looked at Philip blankly, then smiled.
“That is to be compared with your honesty and openness, no doubt,” he remarked. “Exactly what have you told her? Does the poor girl even know your name?”
“Of course she knows my name,” Philip shouted. Then he stopped and wondered, Did she? What had he told Meg about himself? “I must have…“ he began, but his voice drifted away when Pierre raised his brows quizzically. “But I did not lie,” he bristled.
Pierre laughed. “Perhaps not in words.” He thrust the package of silks and clothing into Philip’s arms. “Here, take this. It is a good excuse to go down. Possibly you can make your peace with her before she realizes you are no better than she. Tell her, if she asks, that I have duties on the ship, which is true enough.”
However, it was too late. For a while after Philip left, Megaera was desolate. She had known he would be furious when the truth came out. Then she began to feel ill-used and to tell herself that if he could discard her for a little white lie, told out of fear, she did not need such a man. And she could not have him anyway, she told herself. His parents would never accept her. It was better to save herself the shame of such a rejection and, more important, save Philip from an open break with his family. It was easier to put it that way, much easier, than to face the fear that Philip did not wish to marry her, had realized after she identified herself that a carte blanche was no longer possible, and had seized on her confession as a way out. Thus, when he knocked she would not admit him nor answer his pleas to be forgiven. At last he left the package and retreated.
The Cornish Heiress Page 43