He did. Instantly. He caught up her hands and rolled her under him so that he could settle into the cradle of her hips. "You are a wicked woman, Lady Dexter, to tempt your poor husband so. But I find I have no desire—" he raised his hips and pushed deep into her welcoming warmth "—no desire at all to resist you."
The urge was very strong now, for both of them. He began to move, timing his thrusts to the rhythm of his words as he said her name, over and over. "Suzanne. My love. My life."
They had been travelling for hours when Dominic finally called a halt. The sun was high in the sky and it was very hot. Everyone but the marquise was suffering. She, true to her code, refused to acknowledge the inconvenience of the summer heat. Others might sweat and suffer; a marquise did not.
Ben wiped the back of his hand across his forehead and marvelled at his mother-in-law. She looked as cool and collected as she had when they set out, in the relative chill of the dawn air. Dominic's tactics appeared to be working wonderfully well. Being treated like a great lady again seemed to have restored much of her equanimity. And it had taken a huge weight off Suzanne's shoulders, too, for which Ben was very grateful. His wife had borne enough. He wanted to see an end to her worried frowns. He wanted her to be truly carefree, and joyful, and laughing up at a cloudless sky.
"We can break for an hour or so," Dominic said, handing the reins to one of the temporary grooms. "The horses need a breather after that climb."
"And so do the rest of us," Jack said, mopping his face.
"I think you'll find that Leo has matters in hand," Dominic replied calmly.
Leo, in his usual role as brigade major of the Aikenhead Honours, was already marshalling his men into parties to act as lookouts, to see to the horses, and to set out blankets in the shade so that everyone could eat in relative comfort. "Well-chosen spot this," he said, when he came to report to the duke that all was ready. "You can see for miles up here. No enemy could creep up on us."
Dominic smiled. "No, but you've set pickets anyway. Just in case. Very wise."
Leo shrugged. "Pays to be careful." He excused himself to Suzanne and her mother and went to eat with his men. Within ten minutes, the sound of raucous laughter was echoing from the far end of the little camp. Ben guessed that Leo was probably telling some of his more scandalous stories.
It did not take long to finish their makeshift meal and for Suzanne to escort the marquise back to the carriage to rest. "I suggest you do not stray too near to Leo's lads in your meanderings, my love," Ben said when she returned to their little group. "Their talk might be a little, er, ripe for a lady's ears."
Suzanne smiled and joined him on the rug. "English ripe, or French ripe? If it is English, it would not matter, for I would not understand it."
"Oh. No, of course not." He paused, frowning. "I never thought to ask, love. Do you speak English at all?"
"I have some," Suzanne said, trying not to smile. "Marguerite and I were well taught when we were small. Before." She glanced across to the grand ducal carriage. "Mama speaks good English. Or, at least, she did once."
"Your sister's English is very fluent now," the duke said, raising himself on one elbow to reach for his wineglass. "My mother has been helping her to improve. And she will do the same for you, Lady Dexter, if you wish."
"What Dominic means," Jack put in from his place leaning against the tree trunk, "is that our mama is a very managing sort of person. If she decides to take your training in hand, Suzanne, you will find yourself trained, believe me." He shuddered theatrically. Then he brightened. "And if she is cracking the whip over you, she might leave Marguerite in peace. So we'd have more time for other things." He smiled to himself.
"You're painting the dowager as some kind of ogress, Jack," Ben protested. "That really cannot be fair. You said Marguerite was very easy in the dowager's company." He glanced across at his wife. The last thing he wanted was for Suzanne to be anxious about meeting Jack's mother. He said as much. "For the dowager is kindness itself," he finished. "If there is to be a problem once we reach England, it will be with my grandfather," he added quickly, knowing that if he did not warn Suzanne about the old man, Jack certainly would. "He doesn't approve of the French, I'm afraid; and he certainly won't like the fact that my wife has been working as a weaver."
Ben had already decided that that was even more reason to ensure her hands became white and smooth and soft. Suzanne already behaved and spoke like the lady she was. If she looked like a great lady, too—dress, and jewels, and soft white skin—it was possible that the old man would never have to find out what she had had to do to survive. It was, Ben persuaded himself, by far the simplest solution.
Suzanne surprised him by laughing. "I'm not afraid of one grumpy old man, Ben, even if he is your grandfather. I'm not afraid of anything when we're together."
Ben swallowed hard. What a declaration. And in front of Dominic and Jack, too.
Suzanne had not finished. "We have faced danger and death together. We can face anything. Besides, we have our valiant friends to guard our backs." She smiled first at Jack and then at Dominic. "How can we possibly fail?"
Ben's reply was going to be much too intimate for present company. For the moment, he limited his reaction to a smile and a nod. Then he rose and offered a hand to her. "Shall we take a stroll, my love? These…um…valiant friends are nowhere near ready to leave. We have plenty of time to…um…enjoy the scenery."
Jack gave a snort of laughter which he turned into an unconvincing cough.
Dominic shot a sideways glance at Ben, but said only, "As you wish. Don't go beyond Leo's pickets."
Ben nodded and tucked Suzanne's hand into his arm. She even had a parasol, he was delighted to see. The newly-cosseted Lady Dexter should certainly be protecting her complexion. The moment they were out of sight of the others, Ben took her into his arms and kissed her, very very thoroughly. "Together, we cannot fail," he whispered into her hair. "Thank you, my love. For everything."
Some minutes later, they were ambling through a stand of umbrella pines to more open hillside beyond. There, they stood together, arm in arm, taking in the view. Below them, the lower slopes were covered with dense dark-leaved shrubs, dotted here and there with small trees. The ribbon of the road wound its way dustily between them and lost itself among the pines by the summit. Everywhere around them was hot and heavy and noisy with cicadas.
"It makes no sense," Ben began, puzzled. "I feel as if I recognise this place, but that's impossible. I've never been in this part of France before."
"Perhaps you saw other hillsides, further south, after you landed? I suppose one barren hillside is much like another."
"It's not barren," he said at once, drinking in the scent of wild herbs. There was rosemary here, and thyme. And was that lavender, too? He closed his eyes for a second. Yes, wonderfully soothing.
Here in the clearing, the turf was temptingly dry and springy underfoot. Unable to resist, he lay down on his back and put one hand behind his head, gazing up at the burning sky. "Join me, love?" He reached up his free hand to her. "It's beautiful here. Not barren at all. Smell those herbs."
In seconds, she had thrown down her parasol and she was lying beside him, holding his hand once more. They lay together in silence, savouring the scented peace of the place. It was blissful.
"No, I couldn't have seen a hillside like this," he decided. "Not here in France. I was shot when we'd barely arrived in Marseilles."
"Then you must have dreamt it," Suzanne said immediately, in that practical French way he loved.
"Dreamt it? Oh… Why, what a clever woman you are. Yes, that's precisely what I did. When I was wounded and raving. There was a hot hillside, just like this. I lay on it. And there was the scent of herbs, just like this. I smelt them. And there were tufts of yellow mimosa flowers, just…" He looked up. There was a twisted mimosa tree behind them, but it had no flowers.
"The mimosa flowers in the spring," Suzanne said, quellingly. Then she caught her breath
. "Oh, but it was spring when you first came to me," she added in a whisper, marvelling.
"And finally," Ben went on, very sure of his memories now, "there was the voice of an angel, who gave me back my sanity. The mimosa may be missing, but the angel's voice is still here. Stay with me, angel?"
"Always," she said, and melted into his arms for the kiss that would seal their promises to each other.
THE END
Historical Note
Napoleon Bonaparte sailed from Elba to land in France at 5 p.m. on Wednesday 1 March 1815. That began The Hundred Days. Travel was difficult at first, since Napoleon had chosen to scramble his army of about 1000 men across the mountains to avoid opposition. By the time Napoleon reached Lyons, however, resistance was crumbling and regiments were rallying to support their returning Emperor.
The historical events I have shown in His Silken Seduction happened much as I have described. In Lyons, the troops changed sides even before Napoleon arrived. Earlier in the day, the King's brother, who was supposed to lead the regiments against Napoleon, found himself being mocked on the parade ground. He gave up any thought of fighting and decamped to Paris. Napoleon entered Lyons in triumph. Unopposed.
Napoleon remained some days in Lyons, issuing decrees and summoning the parliament to Paris. He also summoned his wife and son back from Vienna—though, if you have read Leo's story, His Reluctant Mistress, you will know that that did not go quite according to plan.
The French King, Louis XVIII, did not remain in Paris to oppose Napoleon's return. He fled to Brussels on Sunday, 19 March 2015. The following day, Napoleon entered Paris in triumph, without a shot being fired. Even Marshal Ney—who had promised the King that he would bring Napoleon to Paris as a prisoner in an iron cage—had changed sides.
In Vienna, the Duchess of Courland arrived on Good Friday to give the assembled monarchs the news they would have been dreading. Their political squabbles ended. Within a day, a new Allied Coalition had been formed and the Duke of Wellington had been appointed commander-in-chief. By early April, Wellington was in Brussels to take command of the army.
Soon, it was over. Napoleon lost the battle of Waterloo—on 18 June 1815—though, as Wellington admitted, it was a damned close-run thing. By the middle of July, Napoleon was on a British ship bound for England, and later, for exile in St Helena. King Louis XVIII had been restored to the throne of France.
But Waterloo was not the end of the violence for the people of France. Paris was occupied, filled with foreign troops. The situation was dangerous, and volatile. The Parisians were ready to rise against the occupiers, and royalists were clamouring for blood. No one was safe, in Paris and other cities. Even royalists were attacked for failing to oppose Napoleon with sufficient vigour. Republicans and Bonapartists were ready to fight, too, since they felt they had nothing to lose. Many people died in revenge attacks as gangs went on the rampage in cities such as Marseilles and Toulon—and in the famous silk-weaving centre, Lyons.
The Aikenhead Honours Series
A Brotherhood of Spies
Driven by duty—tamed by love?
Dominic Aikenhead, Duke of Calder, is the leader, Ace. King and Knave are his brothers, Leo and Jack. Their friend, Ben Dexter, is code-named Ten. All four are seen as rich wastrels by the world at large. Being labelled an idler—playboy aristocrat, gambler, rake, or worse—provides an excellent smokescreen for undercover activities. Like spying.
Spying on opponents, though fraught with danger, is necessary for any country that intends to win the political game. As Britain does. And spies work better when they are not embroiled with women.
The Honours are despatched across Europe to take on ruthless adversaries from previous allies, as well as enemies from France under its newly-returned Emperor Napoleon. Working alone, each of the Honours is vulnerable. Each of them finds the one woman who can help him fulfil his mission.
Are the Honours prepared to allow these remarkable women into their lives, and into their hearts?
And will the women be prepared to accept them if they do?
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His Cavalry Lady
His Reluctant Mistress
His Forbidden Liaison
His Silken Seduction
Dear Reader : from Joanna Maitland
If you enjoyed His Silken Seduction, I'd be really grateful if you could leave a review at your usual online store or on your favourite reader website. Your review can help other readers to find and enjoy my books, too.
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Thank you!
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Joanna Maitland Titles
Regency Historicals
Unsuitable Matches Series
A Penniless Prospect†
Marrying the Major*
Rake's Reward*
Star Crossed Lovers
My Lady Angel†
Bride of the Solway†
Star Crossed at Twilight
The Aikenhead Honours
His Cavalry Lady
His Reluctant Mistress
His Forbidden Liaison
His Silken Seduction
Individual Stories
A Poor Relation†
The Earl's Mistletoe Bride*
A Regency Invitation
[with Nicola Cornick & Elizabeth Rolls]
* new ebook edition coming soon
† titles available as Mills & Boon/Harlequin Historicals
Other Joanna Maitland Stories
Lady in Lace ~ Regency Timeslip
One Christmas Tree to Go ~ Victorian Timeslip
[Novella in Libertà Books anthology: I Hate Christmas]
I, Vampire ~ Romance with Bite
[Novella in Libertà Books anthology: Beach Hut Surprise]
His Silken Seduction: A brotherhood of spies in Napoleonic France (The Aikenhead Honours Book 4) Page 14