Lord Stanton's Last Mistress

by Lara Temple

  ‘I need a ship.’

  ‘A ship, sir?’

  ‘Something fast. I need to catch them.’

  ‘Lord help you, sir, you can’t catch them. First, there’s not a captain alive who will take his ship out with the tide against them in this storm. Second, that was a Boston frigate, built by Edmund Hartt himself. You won’t see the tail end of it this side of Gibraltar. If they stop to restock there, you might be lucky, but maybe not. You come into the Dragon and get dry and tomorrow we will see...’

  ‘I’m not going to wait until tomorrow. There has to be someone willing. I don’t care how much it costs.’

  The harbour master shrugged, tugging his hat lower and letting loose a cascade of rain from its curling brim.

  ‘There’s always a fool to take another fool’s gold. You want names? I want a hot toddy.’ He inspected Alex’s clothes and then raised his chin in the direction of a large well-lit hostelry across the way. ‘The Green Dragon’s the best hostelry nearby. So you can follow me into the Dragon or go and find another madman by yourself. Sir.’

  The harbour master lowered his head and hurried towards the hostelry and Alex resisted the urge to curse him, the weather, the world. He knew the man was right and he needed his knowledge of the ships currently available for charter. Besides, the simple fact remained he didn’t have enough funds on his person to commandeer a ship to convey him to Illiakos. He had missed this particular boat, literally, and he would just have to plan his next step with less histrionics. It was time to stop acting like Don Quixote tilting at windmills and start acting sensibly. That meant he should rack up at the Dragon, find a suitable vessel for such a long voyage, send for a representative of his bank so they could prepare the funds he would need for the voyage. Not to mention send word to the Hall and to London that he would be disappearing for several weeks, possibly longer if Chrissie proved stubborn.

  The fact that he wanted to howl with frustrated impatience and force the world to bend to his will was immaterial. If he had to follow her to the Antipodes, he would. It was as simple as that. Chrissie was his. He would take as long as necessary to make it as clear to her as it was to him. She didn’t trust anyone, least of all herself, and that meant it would be an uphill slog to make her trust him. But if it took a lifetime he would do it. He knew how hard it was to trust. As hard as it was to need someone. To love them.

  God, he knew. But once you did... Whatever it took, he would do it.

  He turned for one last look at the roiling sea just as thunder went from a grumble to a roar and the blackness turned for a moment into an etching of rabid waves attacking yellow sails and spiky masts. His heart constricted in fear and desperation—was she out there, being tossed about, afraid? Hell. If he could have made a deal with the powers that be to transport him across the distance between them he would probably offer everything he had to be with her that very second. Not even to have her for himself, just be certain she was safe.

  He clenched his jaw and wiped the stinging rain from his face. Big oaths were worth less than the breath they wasted. The devil was in the details and it was time to go and see to them.

  ‘Alex?’

  His heart stopped, lost its place, gave two painful thumps and began to race. He turned, preparing himself for the joke his mind was playing on itself. He wasn’t prepared for the cloaked figure standing three yards away. The hood and darkness completely obscured her face, but he didn’t need to see it. He had a very vivid memory of her veiled figure.

  He strode forward, pushed back her hood, his heart contracting and expanding at the sight of her. However it had happened, she was here.

  ‘Chrissie.’

  He didn’t hear the thunder and the lightning was just a flash of light that struck her eyes into sudden sapphire brilliance, but the torrent of rain was harder to ignore. He took her hand and pulled her towards the Green Dragon, but she halted just outside the door.

  ‘I came out through the courtyard, the side door...’ Her voice was swallowed by another crack of thunder, closer this time. He didn’t question her, but followed towards the arched entrance to the hostelry’s entrance. The rain had created a small lake at its centre, cobblestones dimpling through the rushing water. He swept her up and strode through it towards a sliver of light from a door slightly ajar and felt a shudder, of resistance or of laughter, course through her. Inside he nudged the door closed behind them and the rumble and rush of the storm muted.

  ‘Which way?’ he asked, but just then a maid holding a coal scuttle entered from the other end of the corridor and stopped, gaping at them. Christina squirmed out of his grasp, but he kept hold of her waist as he raised a finger to his lips, addressing the maid.

  ‘Shh... We’re trying to elope. Once the rain stops.’

  This time the silent shaking of the body next to his was definitely of laughter and it warmed him from within. Whatever happened, this was right.

  ‘Elope? In Southampton, sir?’ the maid asked, her eyes wide with incredulity and excitement.

  ‘Everyone has to start somewhere, don’t you agree?’

  She grinned, showing two missing teeth. He fished a coin from his pocket and she took it and continued on her way, humming a ballad about lovers coming to a sour end.

  ‘You need anything, you ask for Sue,’ she called over her shoulder and disappeared.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Alex murmured and grasped Christina’s hand, turning her to him. ‘How did you know about the side door? Have you a room here? I thought the King’s ship sailed. Are they still here because of the storm?’

  He was babbling and she was staring up at him as if he had dropped from the moon, or as if she had just woken from sleep. Except her eyes were red, or perhaps that was just the cold. He wanted to pull her to him, wrap himself around her. Never let go.

  She shook herself suddenly like a dog.

  ‘Upstairs. On the right.’

  Questions would wait. Nothing mattered at the moment. The harbour master must have been wrong about the King’s sailing, thank God. He had no idea what Christina had been doing out in the docks alone, but not even that mattered right now. All that mattered was that she was here, her hand in his. His. He would explain to the King and the Princess, and to Christina as well, that she was staying. If she insisted on going, then they would have to make room for another passenger. It was a simple as that. He wouldn’t mind a long cruise with Chrissie in close quarters. They might have to make do without him at the Congress in Verona, but the world would survive without him.

  ‘Here. This room.’

  He followed her into a large parlour with a generous fireplace. The table was set for one, with a napkin draped over a loaf of bread and a jug. The curtains were fluttering a little in the wind and a line of moisture marked the floor where the rain had blown in. She hurried over and closed the latch on the window, touched the mullioned frame lightly and turned to face him.

  The fire turned the rain to a sparkle of diamonds on her hair and face and cloak. He had never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

  He smiled and her hand fisted on the fabric of her cloak at her throat.

  ‘I saw you.’ Her voice was hurried, almost apologetic. ‘I was looking out the window. I was certain I was seeing things, but then the other man left and you were still there and I had to be certain. It didn’t make any sense, but...’ She spread her hands wide, a gesture of helplessness that reached through him. He still had so much to learn about her, but most important was to stop and listen instead of jumping behind his guns whenever the pain struck. He would have to make a note of that. Write it down and put it somewhere prominent. She deserved his patience and more courage than he had shown thus far.

  ‘Chrissie.’

  ‘You must be cold. Has something happened? With the treaty? Is that why you came to Southampton? Would you like some wine? I think there is some in that jug
. They are very nice here.’

  ‘Chrissie.’ He said again. He didn’t seem capable of saying much more. He grasped for something sensible. ‘Where are King Darius and the Princess? Did you not sail because of the storm?’

  ‘They did sail. A couple of hours before the storm broke. The Captain said the storm was heading north-east so they should be clear of it and I hope he is right. I’m so worried. What if something happens to them and I wasn’t there? I’m horrible and selfish and they must be hating me...’

  He grasped her hands and her agonised monologue stumbled to an end.

  ‘Chrissie, I don’t quite understand what happened, but I am certain of one thing—they don’t hate you. They might be angry with you, but they are incapable of hating you. They love you. Look, your hands are frozen. Come here. Sit.’

  ‘Your hands are frozen, too.’ She sniffed, but did as she was told and after he untied her cloak she sat on the chair he drew up by the fire. He turned the key in the lock and poured her some wine. She took the cup, her eyes moving from his face with a peculiar look of weariness and pain to the locked door.

  ‘I’ll open it if you wish, but I prefer we are not interrupted for the moment. We have some matters to discuss, you and I.’

  She wrapped her hands about her cup and sipped. And stared.

  He pulled over another chair and sat and did some staring himself. He didn’t want to talk yet. He wanted to pull her out of that chair and towards the very nice bed he could see through the half-open door behind her, but that would wait. Right now all that mattered was that she was here, with him. And that was precisely where she would stay. She was his.

  He smiled.

  * * *

  Christina’s nails pressed into the cold surface of the cup. There was nothing she could do against that smile. He had smiled more on Illiakos, she realised, and restrained the urge to reach out and touch the curve of his beautiful mouth. She wanted him always smiling and laughing as she knew he could. He was too serious. She could do something about that. She would. That conviction flowed through her. Whatever happened now she didn’t regret staying. Certainly not now that by some miracle he was here in Southampton.

  After the King and Ari sailed she had remained by the window, staring out into the darkening docks and willing the hours to pass until morning when the post chaise would take her back to Stanton Hall. When she noticed the two men stopping at the edge of the dock she had been certain she was hallucinating, or at least misled by the distance, the dark and the rain. But when they didn’t fade into the fog she had grabbed her cloak and run for the stairs.

  Thank goodness she had. Even with him standing right in front of her she found it hard to believe that he was here in Southampton. With her. In her room. In her locked room.

  Smiling.

  She smiled back.

  ‘I don’t know why you are here, Alex, but I am so happy you are.’

  By some miracle most of the wine stayed in the cup as he took it from her and pulled her out of her chair and into his arms. His coat was damp and a button was pressing into her chin and his arms were crushing her and it was wonderful. She burrowed against him, listening to the racing thud of his heart.

  ‘Alex. Will you take me with you?’

  He stilled and she curled one hand hard into the fabric of his coat and let the words come.

  ‘Do you know how often I regretted not being brave enough to go with you when you asked me six years ago? It would have been wrong, I know that. I was too young and probably so were you. But that didn’t change the fact that I was in love with you. And scared. I’m not very brave, Alex. I want to be, but I’m not; I’m terrified of stepping off my safe little stone in the river. The bravest thing I ever did was seduce you in the forest. No, that’s not right. The bravest thing I did was tell you I wouldn’t stay with you. Because I never wanted anything more in my life. I don’t know if what I have done now is brave or the most cowardly act ever, but I don’t care. All I know is that I can’t bear the thought of not seeing you again and that is why I told Ari and King Darius I had to stay and see, if there was even a chance... When I’m not being utterly terrified I know you are as scared as I am about trusting anyone and I wish I knew how to make you feel safe with me. Please, please say something...’

  ‘Look at me, Chrissie.’

  She looked up and caught on the flames reflecting in his eyes.

  ‘Do you know how much I love you?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Well, we will have to work on that. I’m obviously not much of a gallant knight because I’m rather grateful you saved me the bother of chasing you across the Mediterranean, no matter how grand a gesture that would have been. I prefer showing you what I feel in a rather more direct manner. But first tell me again, my brave love.’

  ‘I’m not brave.’

  ‘Yes, you are, but I meant the other part. Say it.’

  ‘I love you, Alex.’

  ‘Every day. I’ll need you to tell me every day, do you understand?’

  ‘You’ll soon grow bored of that.’ Her voice was hoarse and his lips curved into a smile as he brushed his thumbs over her cheeks, tracing the line of her jaw and settling just below her mouth, his eyes darkening as they following his fingers’ progress.

  ‘I doubt it.’ He bent and kissed her once, gently, and then gathered her against him, stroking her back with long soft strokes. ‘You’re shaking. Don’t worry so, Chrissie. This isn’t a Greek tale and I am not a siren luring you to your doom the moment you step away from safety. You won’t lose Ari or the King. They will always love you and you them, but there can be more. I want us to build a life together, better than we can apart. I know it’s possible. You are so much stronger than you realise. I am offering you my love and I want yours.’

  ‘You have it, you always have. I’m not shaking because I’m scared. I’m just so happy you’re here. Even if it rather ruins my grand gesture of appearing unannounced at the Hall. I was hoping to take you by surprise.’

  ‘I think sneaking up on me at night in a thunderstorm when I was just imagining you out in the middle of the Channel qualifies as taking me by surprise. I’m glad you did. I was about to go and charter a vessel so I could hare off in pursuit of the King’s ship.’

  ‘Oh, no, and I would have been on my way to Stanton. That would have been horrid.’

  ‘That is a colossal understatement, Chrissie. I would have found you in the end, but by then my list would have been as long as a Homeric saga,’ he murmured against her hair, the warm whisper of his breath sending a tingling shower over her scalp and down her back. She shuddered and tightened her hold and his grip loosened, his hands sliding lower.

  ‘Your list? What list?’ she asked but her mind was following his hands’ descent. When they reached the rise of her bottom her body arched against him involuntarily. He shifted, spreading his legs a little and arranging her more securely against him, and a sharp stab of need shot through her at the unmistakable pressure of his arousal against her. She tried to move against him, but his hands held her still, his voice soothing her with the same deep murmur as his lips moved on her hair, her temples, downwards...

  ‘Thirty miles out of Stanton Thunder threw a shoe. In the pouring rain. The sensible thing would have been to find a way back to Stanton and bring my curricle, but I didn’t. I bought a horse and cart from a farmer, left Thunder with him, and continued south. I kept hoping the storm would delay your departure because my not-so-noble steed was more donkey than horse. The whole damnably slow way down I made a list.’

  He had reached her neck and she arced to give him better access, shivering as his lips scudded down and found a spot so unbearably sensitive her body lit from within, like a paper lantern. He paused, tasting that spot, his leg moving between hers and raising her so that she could feel the burning heat at her core.

  ‘Are you liste
ning, Chrissie?’ he prompted.

  To what? A list...

  ‘A list of what?’

  ‘Of all the places where I will show you how much I love you. My bedroom. No, our bedroom. Every night. The library...’

  ‘The library?’ she mumbled, trying not to sway against him as the rough silk of his voice worked deeper and deeper into her.

  ‘The library,’ he answered. ‘The window seat. Then you can arrange those damn pillows and we can do it again. The stateroom. On the desk where you were scribbling so diligently. I’ll cross your Ts for you again and other things.’

  ‘Alex...’ She didn’t know what to do against the onslaught of the images and the drugging heat of his mouth and hands so she anchored her hands in the damp fabric of his coat as his hands slid deep into her hair, twisting and gathering it between his fingers, drawing back her head. His mouth hovered over hers as she drew breath. She felt again the cool satin slide of water just under her skin, as if he was entering her, and her legs shuddered against the pressure of his in a surge of need. His lips brushed hers, slowly, testing every line of hers, every breath of his drawing some fear from her, coaxing and softening.

  ‘The forest,’ he continued, his mouth nipping at hers, teasing and suckling her lips into throbbing awareness that echoed in every inch of her body. ‘As often as we can before winter sets in. But especially when the bluebells come. I’m going to make that particular fantasy a reality—you, naked, on a bed of bluebells. And in every place you will have to tell me you love me. That you need me. I give you fair warning I’m going to be a nuisance about that.’

  ‘The herb garden,’ she gasped. ‘Your workshop.’

  He laughed against her lips.

  ‘That’s too brave, love. I draw the line at risking splinters in your lush behind. Not the portrait gallery, either. Too many disapproving eyes. The conservatory, yes. We have a score to settle there. Then, back to the bedroom. Then...’

  ‘Alex, you needn’t marry me, I am perfectly wil—’