Getting my wits about me, I managed to move off without being too ungracious to Phillipe’s officious manner.
“It’s good to see you,” I said. “Seems we were in the business of conquests the last time we were together. You still bedding Miss Darcy?”
“Ah, no. As I suspected, she’s totally unimaginative, not like you I might add … “
“Shush, please.”
“OOoo yes, I’m sorry. I don’t suppose these people even have a glimpse of your sordid past.”
“Please, Phillipe.”
He smiled.
“I’ve moved on to other seductions. There’s a Victoria George in the ballroom that has my eye, since she clearly has hers on my pants.” Any gentle woman would have blushed, but I was accustomed to his crude talk. “Of course, I was also finding your friend Melanie quite a choice piece of female flesh.”
I had every right to slap his face for that one, but I wasn’t exactly into defending Melanie’s honor, not yet. “Phillipe, she’s married.”
“That’s the most fun, I think. The married ones really know what they’re missing.”
“I don’t think that Melanie’s missing anything in passion,” I said.
“Really?” Phillipe didn’t believe me. “I think that luscious firebrand is miles beyond that husband of hers in sexual appetite, and I wouldn’t be at all opposed to being her first extramarital entanglement.”
“Phillipe, you are nothing but a first class scoundrel.”
“Who better to admire me than the tempestuous libertine, Isabella.”
“We are libertines?” Adrian’s voice suddenly appeared over Phillipe’s, and I turned to see my curious fiancé in the ballroom doorway.
“We were just discussing the difference been the sedentary country life and the more licentious pursuits in a city like this,” Phillipe explained. “Of course there’s nothing like Paris for fine carnal abandon. You do know that, don’t you, Adrian?”
Phillipe seemed to adequately cover for our less than discreet conversation, though I couldn’t really be sure what Adrian had heard.
“It was certainly nice to see you again, Monsieur Gordot,” I said graciously, and I swept past him on my way to Adrian.
“You have quite a find, Adrian, may I congratulate you personally,” he said, moving abruptly toward my fiancé to shake his hand. “I shall see you again soon, my dear Isabella. I’ll be here in London for the next few weeks, perhaps a lunch, the three of us?”
“Perhaps,” I said.
Adrian was not suspicious, at least so that I could notice. And knowing Adrian to be a very forward and honest person, I don’t think he could easily conceal any displeasure or suspicion. He was not a devious man, not at all like Phillipe Gordot.
Once the Frenchman was on his way inside again, Adrian and I remained at the doorway.
“You enjoying yourself, my love?” he asked.
“It’s been a very interesting evening. Is Monsieur Gordot who you thought would be here?” I asked.
“Gordot? No. I had thought that Meg would be coming. I invited her as a surprise for you, but she cabled this morning that she couldn’t make it. She sent her regrets. I almost forgot about it.”
Maybe Adrian did suspect something. I noted a distance in his manner, though he was still as attentive as usual. But rather than rejoining the party, he pulled me out on to the patio again, and led me down the stairs into a garden, on one side of the enormous mansion.
“It’s a little chilly don’t you think?” I said.
“Not for long, darling, we’ll slip in here, where I’m sure it’s warmer.
“Here” was a lovely conservatory, filled with lush greenery and a cozy warmth that took every ounce of chill away. If that wasn’t enough to warm me, Adrian’s hands were pulling up my dress the instant the door closed.
“Adrian, no!” I protested, trying to jerk away from him.
“What’s wrong with now?” he said as he resumed his attack.
“This dress, I’m afraid you’ll tug at it too much, it’ll rip apart.”
“What’s a dress like this for, but to be taken off. You’ve been tantalizing me all evening long with this pure white flesh of yours, and we won’t have time tonight, I assure you. I need you now.”
He sounded so desperate. It made me wonder if this was another effect of Phillipe Gordot, that Adrian was suddenly ravenous to claim me sexually. It reminded me of our first time together, when we were both warding off old lovers. Did he suspect something? He couldn’t possibly. But still … .
“I’ll just take you here, with my lips,” I suggested, about to sit down in a bench in front of Adrian, and open his pants.
“Oh no, my darling, you’ll have all of me, or none at all,” he assured me.
“But … “ My protest was useless. By then, his hands on me were so bold and without reservation, I knew there was no way to stop him.
Wiggling my fancy gown so that it was bunched about my waist, Adrian turned me about, bent me over the stone bench, and pulled down my silky underwear. Spreading my legs wide, he could plant himself into my hole, which I must admit was moist and welcoming. I immediately wiggled back on him, the sensations delightful, Adrian’s authoritative manner jarring me with a remarkable desire of my own. What I thought I’d do just for him, would bring me my own satisfaction.
“Isabella, you won’t be leaving me ever, my darling? I couldn’t bear life without you.” Adrian murmured his strange request at such an odd time, I could hardly think to answer.
“Never my love,” I assured him, in my own sexually provoked tones.
He grunted noisily, assuming there was no one to hear us. Following his lusty lead, I was nearly as loquacious, delivering my satisfaction with a joyous verbal utterance.
He pounded me hard for several minutes, enough to have my body ready to hit the far edge. When his climax came and went, he reached around to play with me, and bring my own over the top. There was nothing but a quiet “aaaahhhhhhh yeeessssssss!” rising in the dense air of our lush sanctuary.
The interlude over, Adrian took some minutes to adjust himself and me. He made certain that my fancy gown, my hair, and everything was back in place. “You look ravishing, as always,” he exclaimed, stepping back to view his work.
“You’re sure? I’d be so embarrassed if I looked like I’d just stepped out of the conservatory freshly pummelled by your cock.”
He chuckled. “No, you look perfect, you always do to me. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have attacked you like this, but with going away for a few days, I’ll miss you so.”
“Why did you have to remind me?” I asked. I’d completely forgotten that he was leaving on business the next morning, banking inspections or some such thing. He’d be leaving early in the morning.
“I didn’t want you to forget me,” he said.
“How could I possibly do that?” I replied. I wrapped my arms around him and gave him a kiss. “Perhaps we should get back to the party, or people will wonder.”
“I’d rather just stay here with you and talk,” Adrian said. “But, you’re right, after all Melanie did this just for you and me.”
“And herself,” I said.
“Of course, she always would.”
We were much more tranquil and composed on our return. Arm and arm we strolled about the lovely house, greeting guests again, taking our congratulations from those that hadn’t already offered theirs. I can’t remember when I felt so close to him, our bodies, minds and very essences seeming to blend in the most delicious combination. I could even look at Monsieur Gordot with a smug smile. Whether he understood the reason for my happiness or not, I don’t really care; though he certainly had a picture of perfect bliss to gaze on and wonder. I doubt the man would ever know what Adrian and I had.
Chapter Ten
I was sitting in the Abbot’s garden reading a delicious little novel about an English girl’s understated affair with a saucy Grecian man, when I heard footsteps behind me.<
br />
“Isabella, there’s a man to see you,” Melanie’s said. “Monsieur Gordot.”
“Phillipe? Why on earth…” I looked at her astounded.
She shrugged, a slightly puzzled grin on her face. “He is a charmer, you’d better watch yourself,” she warned.
“And you’d better watch yourself,” I warned her in return, recalling the things that Phillipe had said of my hostess at the party days before.
I opened the double doors to the parlor to see Phillipe standing by the window looking out on the street. He didn’t turn when I entered, though he certainly knew I was there.
“I don’t even need to gaze on you, Isabella, to enjoy your presence,” he said. “Just your fragrance. Is that honeysuckle?”
“Likely there’s honeysuckle,” I replied.
He turned then.
“I heard that your fiancé is away on business.” He went directly to the point.
“He is.”
“Perhaps you’d like to luncheon with me, pass the time, while he’s away?”
“Lunch?”
“Certainly, something perfectly innocent.”
“I don’t believe there are any perfectly innocent encounters with you,” I replied.
His smirk was dark; there was something devilish in his eyes, though it only added to the ever present feeling of intrigue that accompanied any moment with him. It not only made my heart skip a beat, I was reacting in my loins with lust unlike I’d experienced in some time. It made me realize that what I had with Adrian was altogether different than the carnal pleasures I’d known with this rogue.
“We’ve always had such an appealing relationship, Isabella. You remember how alike we are?”
“How alike we were,” I said.
“Oh no, you’re wrong there. Love hasn’t changed your physical need.”
“My physical need is not something we’re going to discuss. I think you’d better leave.”
“No, I think not,” he said. He sauntered toward me, then right past me, where he push closed the parlor doors. Turning back, he captured me in his hands.
“Stop this now!” I protested. I should have screamed, brought the entire house to see what treachery he was perpetrating. And yet, I thought it was appropriate to maintain some kind of decorum in Melanie’s house. He was not backing off, but only moving more earnestly toward my lips with his. Those inviting lips kissed mine with a delicious, soft, moist, warmth. And opened mouthed, the kiss pushed all my responses downward to the heaven between my thighs.
I shoved him off. “No, Phillipe!”
I was firm and unmoved.
He smirked, a faint “humph” grunted in reply. “You cannot hide it from me.”
“You’re a bastard, Phillipe, attacking an engaged woman.”
“Funny, I don’t think of you as engaged,” he said, as he wandered off to the other side of the room.
“I wish you would leave.”
“Half of you does. The respectable half, I presume. But then we know what half of Isabella really rules, don’t we?”
“Get out of here,” I demanded, no longer bothering to be polite.
“Ah, no lunch?” he said.
“If you don’t leave now, I’ll call the housekeeper, and Mrs. Abbot, and the gardener who’s outside, and I’ll have you physically evicted.”
He laughed. Not long, but certainly spirited.
“Ah, Isabelle. It’s too bad, how I have you. I’m afraid you’ll be regretting your inhospitable welcome.”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“I’ll let you wonder that yourself,” he said, with no more darkness than what he usually exuded. Though as he abruptly whisked past me on his way to the door, I was taken with the most noxious gnawing in my stomach, a horrid dread, that I couldn’t shake the remainder of the day.
I was grateful for Adrian’s return the next day. My lover was treated to a long night of sex, as I tried to get rid of the desperate ache by channeling all my fear into his body and a robust sexual release. I might have even spent the entire night with him, except that Adrian insisted I return to the Abbot’s.
“Certainly Melanie knows by now?” I told him. “You should see the way she eyes me, like some giggling girlfriend with a secret.”
“All the more reason to put up the pretense. Besides, while Melanie may look aside, you can be certain that Richard is pompous enough to throw you out of the house, if he knew you were bedding me every chance you got.”
“You really think so?” I asked.
“I’d bank on it, darling. Besides, my parents are returning tomorrow, and I have to be at the dock to meet their ship. We could be in for a change in plans.”
I was getting dressed, feeling anxious again, knowing that I still had more tests to pass in this society of Adrian’s. I was a renegade in his world. As much as I tried to fit into its conventions, my heart was always elsewhere, taking me into an imagination that was all too bohemian for these people. One side of me would have moved into the flat with Adrian, no marriage, no certificate of authenticity to bless our union. I would have loved the look on people’s faces, meeting me as a lover consort, not a wife. The idea of marriage was becoming more droll each day that passed. Seeing Melanie and her married friends, there was an innate unhappiness about them that seemed directly related to saying vows and putting on rings.
I was weary of my double life, always putting up fake screens. And now his parents. I wasn’t looking forward to more false faces and pretentious smiles. But this hurdle seemed to be the one most important to Adrian, even if he didn’t want to admit it. The way he held me, the way his arms caressed me, the way he didn’t want to let me go for the longest time. I know he wanted me in bed with him all night.
“We’ll be married soon,” I reminded him, as we were pulling away.
He smiled at me, and sighed.
“Father will want to go to the club tomorrow night. It’s sort of a “thing” with him, you know getting back with his old crowd of friends. He’ll be dead tired but he’ll insist.”
“And you have to go with him?”
“I’m afraid so,” he said. “But I’ll be arranging dinner for the four of us the following night, or whenever mother is rested enough. She can be a bit of a swooning violet.”
“What an odd way to describe her.”
“You’ll understand when you meet her. But she’s a dear at the right moments.”
“Well you, my love, need some rest. Usually after we make love, you’re much calmer Tonight, you’re overwrought. Take me home and then get some sleep yourself.”
He appreciated the motherly advice, and gave me a big squeeze as he led me from his flat.
***
“Isabella! Isabella!”
I was startled from my writing, in the midst of a letter to Meg late at night, Adrian’s angry voice was totally unexpected.
“Isabella, are you up there?” He was shouting again.
I heard him take the stairs two at a time, and then apparently run into Melanie.
“What are you doing, Adrian? she said. “You don’t belong up here.” Melanie rarely looked indignant, though she did now.
By then, I was in the hallway, seeing Melanie and Adrian, looking as if they were squaring off for a fight. Melanie looked bewildered but firm, Adrian furiously mad.
“I need to talk to my fiancée,” he said. Turning toward me, he pulled away from Melanie.
“Well, then in the library, “ Melanie countered, when she saw him plan to push me back into my room for whatever confrontation that was brewing.
He took and deep anxious breath. “All right then,” he said. He grabbed my hand and led me downstairs. I was almost stumbling on the way, and Adrian was not caring. Once inside the library, he secured the door, while I stood in the middle of the room totally dazed. Never had I seen my love this way, and the dread that filled me I’d known only once before. Then, that dread had led to a life altering change, which for some intuitive reason, seemed
as possible right now.
“You claimed your honesty with me, Isabella,” he said.
“I have been honest, what’s this about? You’re obviously upset about something.”
“That I am. To hear tales of my fiancée uttered by a man who has seemed to have knowledge of you, that only one most intimate would have. That is reason to be upset, don’t you think?”
“You’re talking in riddles, Adrian.”
“Do you have any idea how embarrassing this is?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Why, it’s the great hush hush gossip in my circle in London, that my fiancée has been bedding everyone from Frenchmen to gardeners!
“That is a lie!”
“You vow that?”
“I told you I had a lover. That was something I confessed before we made love. You accepted it readily, or have you forgotten that?”
“But this, this Frenchman claims, or certainly intimates that he has had you in bed too. Is that a fact?”
“Who are you talking about?” I asked.
“Do I need to spell it out?”
“Please. I think I have a right to know who’s accusing me,” I said.
“Your Monsieur Gordot, who you were quite cozy with on the patio at our party.”
I took a deep breath, trying to decide exactly what to say. I really had no choice, but admit the truth. But, I suddenly felt trapped, by some wickedly contrived plot, by circumstance, by fate, by Adrian, and most certainly by Phillipe Gordot.
“Tell me, Isabella. Have you slept with him too?”
He stared at me waiting for the answer.
“If you have not, then I have your honor to defend. He’s made his accusation quite candidly to several people I know well, not the least of which are friends of my father. Oh, he’s very slick about it. But, there was no one in the parlor at the club that didn’t catch his meaning. Tell me, Isabella.”
“I have slept with him,” I said, trying to keep my head proudly raised.
He gulped, and turned away from me. I think there might have been tears in his eyes, but he didn’t want to show them to me. He turned back.
“And were you sleeping with him at Meg’s houseparty, while you were fashioning a relationship with me?”
In the Forest of the Night & The Barmaid and the Blacksmith Page 8