‘When you said earlier that I thought too much, what did you mean?’
Eleanor gave a little sigh. This was proving more difficult that she had imagined. It seemed ironic that Kit, who had not troubled to conceal his desire for her in the past, should now prove so difficult to persuade. Without pausing for thought, Eleanor tugged his arm and pulled him behind the shelter of a huge pillar. It was hardly private but it afforded more seclusion that the theatre entrance hall.
‘It is simply that if we wait until we both think that it is an…appropriate time…’ Eleanor took a deep breath and pressed on, ‘well, the time may never come!’ She put both hands against Kit’s chest. She could feel the beat of his heart beneath her palm. ‘Stand closer!’ she said urgently.
Kit obligingly bent closer to her. His breath stirred her hair. Eleanor resisted the urge to run her fingers along the line of his jaw.
‘If you are taking care because you have no wish to frighten me…’ the colour came up into her face and she stood on tiptoe so that she could whisper in his ear ‘…then I pray you, do not! I want you to make love to me! And please do not ask me to make it any more plain to you because I cannot!’
And before he could say another word, she had whisked out from behind the pillar and was making her way back to the box with determined step, not looking behind her.
Kit followed slowly. It was going to prove impossible to concentrate on the play now—not that he had been giving it his full attention before. From the moment that Eleanor had made her outrageous statement about seducing him, back in the hall at Trevithick House, he had been utterly incapable of focusing on anything other than that thought. He could not remember a single thing about dinner, for his entire attention had been rapt in his wife. She had looked so demure, so innocent and so wholly seductive. Deliciously so, outrageously so. And every so often, she had cast Kit a look that had said that she knew exactly what he was thinking and she wanted him to want her. She wanted him to make love to her…Kit reached the box and almost cannoned into Lady Salome in the doorway, so intent was he in his own thoughts. After making his apologies he resumed his seat, and looked at Eleanor. She had cast him one swift glance as he had come in and was now making conversation with Beth, but there was a colour in her cheeks and a sparkle in her eye that he could not miss. She was wearing a pink dress with a modest décolletage and one dark ringlet was resting in the hollow of her shoulder. Kit’s fingers itched to touch it.
In fact he had been aching to touch her for what seemed like weeks now. This latest abstinence he had laid upon himself, sternly abjuring himself to do the gentlemanly thing and not to hurry Eleanor, not to press his attentions on his wife when they were so recently reconciled. But now…Kit shook his head a little to try to displace the images that seemed to be running riot in his brain. It was no good. The figures on the stage were pale and unreal in comparison to the vision of Eleanor as he had seen her stretched out on her bed. He had to take her home and they had to go now. Except that there were still two acts of the play to go…Kit almost groaned aloud.
By the time the play ended he felt as though several days had passed. Then there were the farewells to the rest of the family, the arrangements to meet the following day, the business of sending for the carriages…It seemed that every delay was designed to add to his torment. He could smell Eleanor’s faint perfume as she stood beside him; he could feel the brush of her hair against his shoulder. He wanted to kiss her senseless and instead he was obliged make polite conversation whilst Eleanor and Beth and Charlotte discussed at endless length the plan to go shopping the following day. By the time it finished he would have happily traded half his fortune to see his sister and his cousin in Hades.
Eleanor was well aware of Kit’s impatience as she discussed arrangements with Beth and Charlotte. He positively vibrated with irritation and she suspected that she knew the cause—her plan to engage his interest was working exceptionally well. And now she had to deliver what she had promised. It felt quite curious, as though she had deliberately let a predatory animal out of its cage and now could not restrain it. Not that she wanted to, of course, but she knew that eventually there would be a price to pay. What she could not decide was whether eventually would arrive too soon—or not soon enough.
She did not look at Kit and an edge of nervousness made her spin out the farewells as long as she could. Soon it was impossible to delay any longer, however. Kit’s hand was imperative on her arm as he helped her up into the carriage. He installed her in the corner then sat next to her rather than opposite, as was customary. Eleanor tried to appear casual and yawned delicately. Kit raised an eyebrow.
‘Did you enjoy the play, my love?’ he asked politely. ‘I seem to remember it as one of your favourites.’
‘Oh it is.’ Eleanor cast him a sideways look. Her heart was beating rather fast. Surely he did not intend to commence his seduction in a carriage? Or did he?
‘I fear I found myself oddly distracted tonight, my lord!’ she said slowly. ‘I was not as drawn in as usual.’
She could not see Kit’s face in the darkness but she heard him laugh. ‘Is there anything that I might do to help your powers of concentration, sweetheart? You need only say the word!’
Eleanor’s heart not only speeded up, it skipped a beat. ‘Well, I do not know…Yes, perhaps you might…’
In reply, Kit caught her up in his arms and pulled her to him. He stopped with his mouth an inch away from hers.
‘You have been teasing me all evening, my love—’
Eleanor wriggled. ‘That is true, but—’
‘No buts. Now you have to make good your words.’
Kit bent closer until his lips touched hers lightly. Eleanor leaned into him, grasping the lapels of his coat to hold him to her when the movement of the carriage threatened to pull them apart. After a moment she felt him slide a hand round behind the curls at her neck, holding her to him as his mouth explored hers, slowly and deeply. Eleanor felt the world start to spin around her; her senses reeled. She had spent the whole day imagining what it would be like and now the reality transcended both her memories and her dreams. Now there were no barriers between them, no misunderstanding and no bitterness. Now there was only sweetness—and longing.
The carriage jolted over a rut and broke them apart. Eleanor fell back against the cushions, and Kit followed, trapping her body beneath his, claiming her mouth again in a fiercely demanding kiss.
‘Kit…’ When she could speak at last, Eleanor was moved to protest. ‘We are in the carriage!’
‘And?’ Kit sounded amused.
‘And…’ Eleanor struggled to sit upright and after a moment he shifted sufficiently to allow it, ‘and I do not wish to be seduced in a carriage—at least not on this occasion!’
‘You have considered it for a future occasion then?’ Kit questioned.
‘Well,’ Eleanor smiled to herself, ‘I confess I had thought about the possibility!’ She smoothed her gloves down demurely. ‘Along with the drawing-room and the conservatory—’
In reply, Kit tumbled her back into his arms and kissed her with a thorough slowness and a heat that threatened to melt on the spot. When the coach drew up in Montague Street she allowed Kit to help her down and did not demur when he put an arm about her, for her legs were still trembling a little. In the entrance hall, Carrick came forward to take their coats, then hesitated, clearly embarrassed.
‘Excuse me, my lord, but there is a small matter of business which I must draw to your attention—’
Kit’s face was a picture. Eleanor very nearly laughed.
‘Good God, Carrick, can it not wait? It is near midnight and I am anxious to retire—’
Eleanor could tell that Kit was trying to erase the impatience from his voice but he was not quite succeeding. The butler hovered.
‘I am sorry, my lord. It will not take long.’
Kit cast Eleanor a speaking look. ‘My apologies, my dear. If you wish to retire—’
&n
bsp; ‘I think I shall go to the music-room and play for a little,’ Eleanor said, suddenly reckless. ‘I am in the mood for a passionate piece—’
She saw the flash of desire in Kit’s eyes before he turned away and gestured to Carrick to follow him to the study. Eleanor hurried across the hall and into the music-room. The piano was waiting and nothing but Beethoven would do. She closed her eyes and plunged into the music.
She did not even hear Kit come in, nor the click of the door closing. The first intimation she had that she was not alone came when she felt Kit brush aside the curls at the base of her neck and plant a kiss against the sensitive skin uncovered there. Eleanor shivered abruptly, opened her eyes and broke off in the middle of the music.
‘Enchanting,’ Kit murmured. He drew her to her feet. ‘And very, very passionate, my love.’
‘What did Carrick want?’
‘Oh…’ Kit did not sound remotely interested. ‘He had a urgent letter for me from St John Trevithick, settling his debts. Which will please your brother, my love, since I refused to take payment from him no matter how he urged it upon me. But I do not really wish to speak of that. Tell me…’ He was touching her hair again, entwining a curl about his finger before he released it again, ‘did the music-room feature on your list of places suitable for seduction?’
Eleanor’s throat dried. ‘No…’ She whispered.
‘Hmm, a pity.’ Kit sounded thoughtful. ‘Would you like to reconsider?’
Before Eleanor could reply, Kit had bent his head to kiss her, the touch of his lips once again driving out any other thought from her mind. This kiss was tender but no less disturbing for that. The slow, sure passion of it made Eleanor quiver with anticipation, the hardness of Kit’s body against her own yielding softness was desperately distracting. She was shaking; she leaned back for support, feeling the edge of the piano hard against the small of her back. A second later Kit had caught her about the waist and placed her so that she was sitting on the piano top. She could feel the smoothness of the polished wood beneath her skirts and caught the edge to steady herself.
‘Kit, what on earth—’
‘I’ll show you…’
‘Oh!’ The word was driven from Eleanor with a mixture of shock and wicked pleasure, as Kit, suiting actions to words, slid the gown and chemise from her shoulders. The height of the piano had changed their relative positions and he did not even need to bend down to disrobe her. Eleanor felt his hands on her bare waist, above the material of her bodice, and then his lips traced a leisurely path across the bare skin that he had exposed, to brush the upper slope of her breast with the lightest of touches. He moved in closer and Eleanor felt the weight of his body force her thighs apart under her silken skirts. Then his mouth was at her breast.
Eleanor trembled, closing her eyes. This was exquisite torture, and pinned here on the piano’s smooth surface, she felt strangely vulnerable and at his mercy. Kit’s hand traced the curve of her breast before his lips followed the path of his fingers, teasing, tormenting, making her skin shiver. The searing touch reduced her to desperation and she caught him to her, running her fingers into his hair.
‘Kit, please—’
In answer he slipped one hand beneath her skirt to stroke the soft skin of her inner thigh. Eleanor wriggled desperately and slithered straight off the piano top into Kit’s arms.
‘So now you may add the music-room to your list for the future.’ Kit’s voice was husky. His hands closed about her waist again and slid her down the whole, hard length of him. ‘I just wanted to demonstrate the potential. But now—’ He swiftly rearranged her bodice, ‘Now, I fear, my dearest Eleanor, that I can wait no longer. I want to take you to bed, for neither the carriage nor any other location can do justice to what I have in mind tonight.’
He swept her up in his arms, and threw the music-room door open. The entire servants’ hall appeared to be lined up outside, making no pretext whatsoever of doing any sort of work. Kit merely grinned.
‘We do not wish to be disturbed,’ he said, and took the stairs two at a time.
‘You might as well have made a public announcement,’ Eleanor said drowsily, much later, as she lay naked in her husband’s arms. ‘Indeed, you did make a public declaration—’
Her words were cut off as Kit kissed her triumphantly, his hands sliding to cup her breasts in a gesture of possession that set her trembling again with an echo of the passion that had so recently subsumed them. Kit propped himself up on one elbow and looked down at her, brushing the hair tenderly away from her face.
‘There is no shame in that. I want everyone to know how much I love you, Nell…’
Another blissful interlude followed this affirmation. Eleanor twisted beneath him, running her hands over his chest, fascinated by the feeling of hard muscle beneath her fingers, revelling in his warmth and the scent of his skin. She turned her lips against his shoulder, bit him gently and heard him groan.
‘Nell…No, don’t distract me! Keep still, you minx!’
Kit caught both her hands in one of his, restraining her innocently erotic caresses, and rolled her into his arms.
‘Listen to me, Nell. I want to be quite sure that this is the right thing—’
Finding her hands captured, Eleanor pressed tiny butterfly kisses against his chest. ‘Sure? Can you be more sure than this, Kit?’
Kit moved to trap her beneath him. ‘Then if you are still happy—’
‘Oh yes…’ Eleanor freed her hands and slipped her arms about him, stroking the smooth skin of his back. ‘I do not believe I could be happier…’
She tilted her head to kiss him, parting her lips beneath his, touching her tongue tentatively to his. She could feel the coiled tension of desire in his body again, see the concentrated, passionate heat in his eyes. It thrilled her that he wanted her so much. She wriggled down, her hair spilling over the pillow to entwine them both in its silken bonds. Kit drew her hard against him, her breasts pressed against his chest, his mouth plundering hers ruthlessly as his hands moved over her. Each movement was intense, gentle and demanding by turn as he set out to learn her body all over again. Again and again. Eleanor felt weak at the thought.
‘Nell, look at me…’
Eleanor opened her eyes and looked at him, half-fearful of drowning in the intense light in Kit’s blue eyes. The blissful sweetness was building inside her now, demanding release. She arched against him.
‘Kit…’
He took her then, with a mixture of exultant demand and exquisite tenderness that made her ache with pleasure. And when it was over she slept in his arms, utterly confident that he would always be there when she awoke. No fear of the future could ever touch her now.
Epilogue
It was a week later and Eleanor was sitting in the garden when Carrick announced that Lady Salome Trevithick had called to see her. That redoubtable lady swirled across the lawn in a dress of green taffeta adorned with diamonds, and came to rest under the canopy where Eleanor was reading Guy Mannering. She had paid another visit to the circulating library the day before and was forced to admit that reading was a far more enjoyable pastime than she had previously imagined. Really, it was very absorbing indeed.
‘My dear Eleanor!’ Lady Salome bent to kiss her. ‘Here I am come like a deus ex machina to put everything right for you and I find you have no need of my help! You look radiant, my love! Am I to infer that All Is Well?’
Eleanor blushed. ‘Yes, I thank you, ma’am! Kit and I are reconciled, and in no small part due to your plotting!’
Lady Salome dismissed this with a wave of her hand. ‘I do my poor best! But I am glad to see that no more of my interference is needed here!’
She sat back. ‘Now that your mama is to retire to the country and this foolish family feud is finished, I find there is little for me here. I shall be returning to Fairhaven Island in a couple of days. My work is done!’
Eleanor sighed. ‘We shall miss you, Aunt, although I do not believe that we shall be
far behind you! Kit and I plan to retire to Mostyn Hall at the end of the Season, but up until then we shall scandalise the Ton by being quite hopelessly in love!’
There was a hint of a tear in Lady Salome’s eye. ‘Bless you, my dear,’ she said gruffly. ‘Well, I have kept you from your husband quite long enough! And as I see he is coming to join you now, I will take my leave. But first, I had something for you. I was helping your mama to pack this morning and I found these at the back of one of her drawers…’
She was groping around in her reticule and emerged, brandishing a handful of paper triumphantly.
‘Here you are! Letters for you, my love! Well, I must be away.’
She dropped the letters into Eleanor’s lap, bent to kiss her again, and swept away across the lawn, meeting with Kit on the edge of the terrace and stopping to engage him in conversation.
Eleanor picked up the letters in some confusion. She could see that they were addressed to her, and at Trevithick House, and that they had been opened. She unfolded the first one.
My dear love
Forgive me for leaving you so suddenly and without a word. I had no intention of this…Pray seek my sister’s help until I may return and I swear it will not be for long…Forgive me, my love…
Eleanor let the letter sink slowly back into her lap. Lady Salome and Kit were still talking on the terrace, although Kit was looking across the garden towards her. Eleanor picked up a second letter.
My dearest Eleanor
I can scarce bear to imagine what you are thinking of me by now, alone and friendless as I have left you. I think of you every day, no, every moment of every day, and long for that time when we will be together. I imagine you reading my letter and hope from the bottom of my heart that you will forgive me…I love you…
Eleanor remembered the Dowager railing against her marriage, intent on an annulment, desperate for her to marry Kemble. She thought of her mother reading Kit’s letters secretly and hiding them away from the one person for whom they had been intended. She thought of Kit, honour bound not to tell her why he had to delay, and of the Dowager telling her that her husband had abandoned her and had never loved her and that he was a rogue and a scoundrel. She picked up the last letter.
The Notorious Marriage Page 22