Amanda Quick - Mischief.txt

by Mischief (lit)

  Imogen gave her a small push toward the door.

  Patricia blotted her eyes and walked numbly out into the hall.

  In spite of the problems she had created, Imogen suddenly felt a

  twinge of sympathy for her." Patricia?"

  Yes?" Patricia paused to glance back. She looked utterly

  wretched.

  When this is over, you and I shall have a very long talk. In the

  meantime, do not allow your nerves to make you ill. I have trouble enough on my hands."

  misses Vine trudged into view. She dried her hands on her apron

  and grudgingly ushered Patricia into the hall and out the front

  door. Then she turned reluctantly toward Imogen.

  Ye wanted me, ma'am?"

  Yes, misses Vine. I want you to send a message to the nearest

  public stable. Inform the proprietor that I wish to purchase clothing suitable for a groom. Make certain that the garments will fit a

  person of my size."

  misses Vine gazed at Imogen as if she had gone mad." Ye want to

  buy clothing for a stable lad? But we don't have a stable. Nor any

  lads, come to that."

  Imogen managed a cool smile." I plan to attend a masquerade,

  misses Vine. I thought it would be amusing to go dressed as a stable

  boy."

  Well, it's no worse than the instructions I got from a tenant a

  couple o" years back." misses Vine sounded surprisingly philosophical." He used to send me out to fetch him ladies" gowns. He wanted

  the whole works, fancy shoes, hat, wig. Everything a real lady

  would wear."

  Imogen was briefly intrigued." You rented to a gentleman who

  went to masquerade balls dressed as a lady?"

  Oh, he didn't go to no masquerade balls dressed up like that.

  He liked to wear the pretty things around here in the evenings

  when he entertained his gentlemen friends. Said the clothes made

  him feel more comfortable. He was particularly fond of plumes

  and fancy stockings, he was. His friends all came dressed in gowns

  and pretty hats too. They enjoyed themselves, they did. And me

  tenant always paid the rent in a timely manner."

  Indeed." Imogen considered that for a moment." Each to his

  own, I suppose."

  That's what I always say. Long as I get me rent, it don't make

  no difference to me how a body dresses." misses Vine shuffled off

  toward the kitchen.

  Matthias heard the door of the library open very quietly. He

  signed the last of the documents he had had his solicitor prepare

  earlier in the day and set it on the stack of papers in the center of

  his desk." Yes, Ufton? What is it?"

  It's me," Imogen said softly." Not Ufton."

  Matthias put aside the quill. He looked up and saw Imogen

  leaning back against the door, her hands behind her, gripping the

  knob. She was dressed in a chintz wrapper and a pair of soft slippers. Her hair was anchored beneath a little white cap. She looked

  as if she should have been in bed.

  The anticipation that had been simmering within him all day

  suddenly came to the boil. His wife. His Anizamara. She had been

  his lady for almost four hours, but this was the first opportunity

  they had had to be alone together since the quiet ceremony. When

  a man was obliged to prepare for both a wedding and a duel

  within the same twenty-four-hour period, he found himself astonishingly busy.

  Matthias smiled at her." Go back upstairs, Imogen. I'm almost

  finished here. I shall join you shortly."

  She ignored him." What are you doing?"

  Taking care of one or two small matters."

  Imogen walked to the desk and glanced down at the pile of

  papers in front of him." What sort of matters?"

  The usual. I wrote some instructions to my estate managers.

  Made a few entries in my journal. Tidied up my will. Nothing of

  major import."

  Your will. Fresh alarm flared in Imogen's eyes. She clutched

  the lapels of her robe very tightly." Dear heaven, Matthias, surely

  you do not expect to . to ."

  No. I fully expect to be home before you are even out of bed.

  Your concern is touching, my sweet, but entirely misplaced."

  It is not misplaced. Matthias, you have told me often enough

  that you are not inclined toward dangerous or adventurous activities. You are a man of delicate sensibilities. You know very well

  that your nerves are not strong."

  He grinned, feeling remarkably cheerful." If it's any consolation,

  rumor has it that Vanneck's nerves are even weaker than my own."

  What is that supposed to mean?"

  That he is highly unlikely to appear at the appointed hour. He

  is a coward, Imogen."

  But you cannot depend upon his cowardice."

  I think we can." Matthias paused." My reputation occasionally

  has its uses."

  But, Matthias, what if he knows that your reputation as Cold

  blooded Colchester is based on inaccurate rumors and false

  gossip? What if he knows that you are not the man Society thinks

  you are?"

  Then I shall be obliged to trust that my own poor nerves will

  be strong enough to see me through this affair."

  Damnation, my lord, this is not amusing."

  He rose to his feet and started around the end of the wide desk.

  You are quite right. This is our wedding night. We should no

  doubt approach it with some degree of solemnity."

  Matthias"

  Enough, madam." He lifted her into his arms." There will be no

  more talk of duels. We have far more important matters to

  discuss."

  What could be more important?" she demanded fiercely.

  I believe that I should like to hear again that you love me."

  Her eyes widened." You know that I do."

  Do you?" He carried her to the closed door.

  Of course I do. For heaven's sake, I would never have agreed

  to wed you otherwise."

  He smiled slightly." Will you kindly get the door?"

  What? Oh, very well." She reached down to turn the handle.

  But, Matthias, we must talk. There is a great deal I wish to say to

  you, my lord."

  No doubt. But I would rather hear you say it in bed."

  He carried her through the doorway and crossed the hall to the

  wide staircase. Guilt lanced through him as he started up the

  carpeted steps.

  He was well aware that he had used the heated passions of the

  moment to coerce Imogen into marriage. She was terrified of the

  risk she believed he would take at dawn. The night before she had

  been overwrought by Vanneck's assault. Her emotions had been

  in a turmoil. She would have agreed to anything he asked. Because

  she loved him.

  He had ruthlessly taken advantage of the situation. She was his

  now. But Matthias knew that when the business of the duel was

  finished and life returned to normal, so would Imogen's emotions.

  He feared she would not thank him then for having manipu

  lated her into this marriage. He remembered what he had said to

  her in the museum. Passion and Zamar.

  It would be enough, he vowed. It had to be enough.

  Chapter 12

  Matthias held himself back until she was clinging to him, beseech

  ing him, demanding that he fulfill the promises he had made with
/>   his hands and his questing mouth. He lay cradled between her

  sweetly rounded legs and kissed the inside of Imogen's quivering

  thighs. He was dazzled by the rich scent of her desire. The heat of

  her damp passage scalded his fingers.

  If things went terribly wrong at dawn, he wanted Imogen to

  remember this night for the rest of her life.

  Matthias. No. Yes. Dear heaven, you should not, you must not.

  This is surely another one of your secret Zamarian lovemaking

  techniques. I cannot bear it."

  Her breathless words and soft gasps constituted the most erotic

  song Matthias had heard. He could not get enough of the ravish

  ing music. He strung kisses along her inner thigh to the plump

  petals that guarded her secrets. He parted her gently and bent his

  head to take the firm little bud between his lips.

  Dear heaven, Matthias." Imogen clenched her fingers in his

  hair and arched herself." Please. Please. Yes." She shuddered and

  cried out.

  Matthias heard the blood roar in his veins. He raised his head

  to watch Imogen's face as she claimed her satisfaction in his arms.

  Things would not go wrong at dawn, he vowed silently as he

  eased himself up along the length of her body. He had to return to

  Imogen. Nothing else, not even the treasures of ancient Zamar,

  was as important to him.

  She was twisting so beneath him that he had to steady her hips

  with a hand that glistened with her own dew. He held Imogen still

  and pushed himself gently past the tight muscles that guarded the

  hot passage. She closed around him. The last of his self-mastery

  disintegrated.

  Tell me again that you love me," he whispered hoarsely as he

  sank himself into her.

  I love you. I love you." She clung to him in the darkness.

  Lost in her sensual warmth, Matthias allowed himself the joy of

  swimming in a sunlit sea.

  He plunged deeper into Imogen's welcoming body. Her tiny

  convulsions had not yet ceased.

  In the end, the shudders that racked him left him precariously

  balanced on the fine line between pain and euphoria. They stole

  his breath and left him damp, weary, and replete.

  And alive.

  Once more he had eluded the clutches of the shadowy phantoms of his past.

  Matthias waited until Imogen finally fell into a deep, exhausted

  sleep before he eased himself from the warmth of the bed. The

  first spectral light of a fog-shrouded dawn crouched at the

  window. The ghostly illumination revealed Imogen curled beneath

  the quilt. Her hair cascaded across the pillow. The little white cap

  had fallen to the floor sometime during the night. Her long, dark

  lashes rested featherlight along her high cheekbones.

  The wonder of Imogen struck him again with fresh impact. She

  might very well be pregnant with his babe.

  Another wave of powerful emotion washed through him. This

  time it was a fierce sense of protectiveness. He stood looking

  down at Imogen for a moment, stoking the new fires that burned

  within him with memories of the night and dreams of the future.

  It occurred to him that since he had met Imogen he had begun

  to think more and more of the future rather than of the past.

  Matthias reluctantly turned away from the bed and walked into

  the dressing room. He smiled slightly to himself as he recalled the

  endless arguments, pleas, and threats he had endured during the

  night. It was certainly gratifying to know that Imogen did not want

  him to risk his neck, not even for the prospect of securing the

  vengeance she had sought for so long.

  He had been tempted to reassure her that his nerves were up to

  the task of dealing with a man such as Vanneck, but he had

  resisted. In the first place, he doubted that she would have

  believed him. Imogen was convinced that he was a man of delicate

  sensibilities. He saw no reason to disabuse her of that notion.

  His greatest source of unease was that Imogen would one day

  realize that his reputation was based on fact, not fiction. Matthias

  dreaded the dawn of that day far more than he dreaded this one.

  Inside the dressing room he lit a candle and reached for his

  breeches. There was no need to wake his valet. A man did not

  require an intricately folded cravat or his best linen shirt for such

  an occasion.

  He dressed with swift efficiency and then pulled on his boots.

  Carrying the taper, he let himself out of the dressing room. He was

  relieved to see that Imogen was still asleep in his big bed. She had

  pulled the quilt up over her head, but he could make out the rough

  outline of her body beneath the covers.

  He intended to be home before she awoke.

  The town house was as silent as a Zamarian tomb. Matthias

  made his way downstairs. The sound of wheels and hooves in the

  street told him that his coachman had followed the instructions he

  had been given last night.

  Matthias set the candle on a hall table. He took his greatcoat

  from the small room at the foot of the stairs, slung it over his arm,

  and opened the front door.

  A gray shroud of fog cloaked the streets. The carriage was just

  barely visible at the bottom of the steps. The horses were wraiths

  in the mist.

  If the fog did not clear by the time he reached his destination,

  he and Vanneck would have a difficult time making out each

  other's form from twenty paces. Assuming Vanneck showed in the

  first place, which was highly unlikely.

  Matthias was mildly surprised that he had not received a

  message from his seconds notifying him that the duel had been

  canceled. The considered opinion of his friends was that Vanneck

  would quit London rather than face a dawn appointment. The

  man was not known for his courage. But there had been no word.

  Matthias glanced up at his coachman as he strode down the

  front steps." Cabot's Farm, Shorbolt."

  Aye, m'lord." Shorbolt, bundled up against the cold in a many

  tiered cape and a hat pulled down over his eyes, gestured to the

  young stable lad who held the horses" heads." Let" em go, boy. His

  lordship's in a hurry."

  Aye." The boy, whose face was concealed by a scruffy scarf and

  a slouchy cap, jumped back from the bridles and scrambled up

  onto the box beside Shorbolt.

  Matthias vaulted into the carriage and settled back against the

  seat. Shorbolt gave the horses the signal to set off into the fog.

  The streets of London were never truly quiet, not even at dawn.

  Elegant equipages filled with drunken gentlemen returning from

  the stews and gaming hells passed Matthias's carriage. The first of

  the farm carts was already making its way to the city markets. The

  last of the nightmen, their wagons laden with the contents of

  cesspits, drove past on their way to the outskirts of Town.

  Occasionally the rank fumes from their cargoes wafted through

  the air.

  But eventually the crowded, bustling streets fell away to reveal

  fields and meadows draped in mist. Cabot's Farm was not far

  outside the city. I
t had gained a certain notoriety over the years as

  a convenient location for dawn appointments.

  Matthias glanced out the window as Shorbolt brought the

  horses to a halt at the edge of a meadow. Tendrils of fog flowed

  across the scene, creating skeletal ghosts out of leafless trees. A

  curricle loomed in the distance on the far side of the grassy field.

  It was horsed with two grays.

  Vanneck was here after all. Cold anticipation uncoiled deep

  inside Matthias.

  The stable lad clambered down from the box to take charge of

  the horses. Something hit the ground with a dull thud.

  " Ere now, watch yerself, ye clumsy lad," Shorbolt grumbled.

  That's me tool kit ye just dumped in the dirt."

  Sorry," the boy said in a very low voice.

  No call to be jumpy," Shorbolt went on with a gruff kindness." It

  ain't yerself who's goin" to be facin" a bullet this mornin"."

  Yes, sir. I know that." The boy's voice was barely audible.

  His lordship can" andle" imself. Ye needn't fear that you'll be

  lookin" for a new post later today. Now," and me kit back up" ere

  and then go take the beasts" heads like a good lad. The poor creatures don't much care for the sound o" gunshots."

  Don't blame" em," the boy muttered.

  Matthias ignored the byplay between Shorbolt and the stable

  boy. He opened the door of the carriage and got out. No one

  emerged from the curricle. The hood of the small two-wheeled

  carriage was raised against the cold. Matthias could not see the

  face of the man inside. There was no sign of Vanneck's seconds.

  The horses stood placidly munching grass as if they had been

  there for some time.

  Matthias was reaching for his watch when he heard the sound

  of an approaching carriage. He glanced up as it rumbled into view

  through the fog. The coachman brought the horses to a halt

  nearby. A familiar figure threw open the door and jumped down

  onto the damp grass.

  Colchester." Fairfax, tall, thin, and dressed in the height of fashion, flashed a grin as he walked forward to greet Matthias." You're

  a bit early, man. Expect you're eager to get back home to your

  lady wife, eh?"

  Very eager." Matthias glanced at the elegantly carved wooden

  box Fairfax carried." I trust you have made certain that the powder

  is dry?"

  Do not concern yourself. I've taken excellent care of your

  pistols." Fairfax nodded toward the carriage." Jeremy and I brought