Night Fire

by Catherine Coulter

  “Yes, I know. Arielle?”

  Her fingers had slipped between his legs and she was touching him lightly. He nearly jumped off the bed, his healing shoulder forgotten.

  Her fingers left him, she shifted on the bed. “Let me help you onto your back, my lord.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I want to look at the front of you. I want to kiss you.”

  He couldn’t believe his ears. Surely he must have misunderstood her.

  When he was on his back, his arms at his sides, his chest heaving, he was breathing so hard, he watched her look at every inch of him. When he knew she was staring at him, he said, “Do you find me ugly?”

  She shook her head, her lips slightly parted. “Oh, no.” Then she touched him, tentatively, took him in her hand. “You’re warm, Burke, very warm and alive and so beautiful.”

  He said nothing, words beyond him. He watched her watch him. When she lowered her head, he sucked in his breath. He couldn’t believe this. He didn’t want her to feel that she had to do this, he didn’t—Her soft mouth closed about him and he groaned. He hadn’t imagined that anything could feel so good, so intensely fine. Her hair was spread over his belly and his thighs. He wished he could see her face, see her caressing him.

  She had to stop, else he would lose all control. He clutched her hair in his hand and tugged. “You must stop,” he said, and he was appalled at the harshness in his voice. “Please, Arielle. Please.”

  She lifted her head. “Why?”

  “I want to be inside you, that’s why. Would you come on top of me, please?”

  She just looked at him, her head cocked to one side, and he realized she wasn’t certain what he wanted.

  She was still holding him, lightly running her fingers over him. It was difficult to think, much less speak coherently.

  “Well, actually, I want you to sit on top of me and let me come inside you. You will be the rider, as it were, not me.”

  “Oh, what an interesting idea. I’m getting quite used to being in charge.” She gave him a wicked smile accompanied by a show of white thigh as she swung over him. Her virginal nightgown settled about both of them.

  “You feel wonderful, I need to touch you, though, love. I don’t want to hurt you when I come into you.”

  “You won’t hurt me,” she said and stretched out over him and began kissing his mouth. He could manage with one arm, he thought, and brought it up to tangle in her glorious hair. Then he let his arm glide down her back over her buttocks. He found the hem of her nightgown and moved upward, his fingers on her warm flesh. When he found her, she jerked, and he smiled. She was ready for him, all warm and damp.

  “Arielle, take me in your hand and guide me into you. I think you should sit up, though.”

  He didn’t realize he was capable of speaking so many words that made sense. He was really quite beyond rational thought.

  “Like this, Burke?”

  “Oh, God.”

  He was coming into her slowly, so slowly he swore he would crack apart with the wanting of it. He felt her fingers tightening about him, releasing him so gently, so little of him at a time, that he wanted to yell.

  “Burke, that feels wonderful, but—”

  “But what? Oh, God.”

  “I want you to touch me.”

  He didn’t hear embarrassment in her voice. He wasn’t listening. He was feeling and he knew, would swear, that it was all over for him. Then all of him was seated deep into her. “Sit up straight, Arielle. Let’s get you out of this nightgown.”

  Arielle pulled off her nightgown, wadding it up and tossing it to the floor. Then he was so deep inside her that he could feel her womb. It made him crazy. He brought his good arm up and stroked over her breasts, then roved down over her belly to find her.

  “Now, come with me, love.” He was bucking up against her, but Arielle realized that she was in charge. It didn’t really matter, for she felt his marvelous fingers make her begin to spiral out of herself and she arched her back, crying out.

  “Arielle.”

  He watched her face as she climaxed, felt her muscles tighten about him, and he moaned, he couldn’t help himself. It went on and on and it was something he couldn’t believe.

  Arielle lay sprawled atop her husband, her hair a mass of tangles spread about her head, onto his face, onto his pillow. His hand was gently stroking her back.

  He was still deep inside her. She quivered at the feel of him, and heard him groan at her instinctive movement.

  She finally managed to raise herself above him. He was looking at her, his beautiful eyes dazed, his mouth slightly open, his breathing still harsh.

  “Thank you, Burke.”

  “What?”

  “I thanked you. That was such pleasure, almost too much. I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

  “You nearly killed me and I loved it.”

  She flushed, then, to his delight, laughed and gently poked him in his stomach. “Well, we won’t take any chances.”

  Before he could voice a protest, she slipped away from him and lay down beside him.

  He grunted. “Pull the covers over us, sweetheart.”

  On her way to find the covers, Arielle paused at his belly, lightly stroking him, kneading him. Then her fingers threaded through his hair to the thicker hair at his groin.

  “The covers,” he said, and heard a voice that sounded like a thin reed, if a thin reed could speak, of course.

  She kissed his mouth, saying, “Certainly. I don’t wish to overwork you, my lord, a mere man.”

  He lightly slapped her hips.

  She giggled. He felt wonderful. He’d succeeded. She hadn’t flinched. And, just minutes before, she’d actually caressed him with her mouth and taken him in her hand and brought him inside her body. She hadn’t hesitated. She’d come to a climax. He felt like the luckiest man in the world.

  “Life,” he announced to the shadowed bedchamber, “life is having Arielle for my wife and loving her until she’s silly with it and having her take care of me. Speaking of care, now that you’ve had your way with me, would you massage my back?”

  She laughed.

  It was Mrs. Pepperall who entered their bedchamber the following morning. Arielle was just waking up, and the sight of the formidable Abbey housekeeper made her instantly and completely alert.

  Burke still slept, and Arielle quickly held her finger to her lips.

  She quietly eased out of bed, grabbed her nightgown from the floor, and pulled it over her head. She wasn’t angry at Mrs. Pepperall’s untimely intrusion. She knew that it meant trouble.

  Arielle put on her slippers, then, after taking one final look at her sleeping husband, slipped out of the bedchamber, closing the door quietly behind her.

  “What has happened?” she asked without preamble.

  “Oh, my lady! I—oh, dear, what shall we do?”

  “Tell me what has happened.”

  “The old woman, your old nurse, Dorcas, she’s gone, escaped from the Abbey.”

  That news was unexpected, and Arielle was silent for a good while. Finally, she asked, “When did you discover her missing? And how did she manage to get out of that room?”

  Mrs. Pepperall, wringing her hands, told Arielle of going to the room herself moments before. Charlie, one of the footmen, was lying unconscious just inside the door, a lump on the back of his head.

  “So,” Arielle said slowly, “Dorcas lured him into the room somehow, then struck him. Is Charlie all right?”

  “Oh, him. Serves him right, I say. Always ogling the females and never minding his own business, and now this. Stupid, careless man.”

  “Of course you’re right, Mrs. Pepperall. Still, does Charlie need Dr. Brody?”

  Mrs. Pepperall, more in command of herself now, snorted. “No. He’s all right, my lady.”

  “I want you to have one of the footmen fetch Geordie. We must find Dorcas. If Charlie was still unconscious, she can’t have been gone long. I will meet Geordie in th
e drawing room in twenty minutes.”

  Arielle dressed in her own bedchamber and was downstairs waiting for Geordie within fifteen minutes.

  He came in, Joshua and Montague with him. She quickly told them what had happened. “We must find her. She is very ill. She could harm herself; she could harm others.”

  Geordie muttered something under his breath and Arielle said in a loud voice, “She is not to be hurt. Her illness, well, it’s not her fault. Now, please hurry.”

  She looked up, a worried frown on her forehead, to see Burke standing in the open doorway. He was wearing a dressing gown and slippers. She hurried toward him.

  He smiled down at her and held up his hand. “No, today I’m allowed to get out of that cursed bed. However, I should like to have a cup of tea. Would you join me, Arielle?”

  It was over eggs and a rasher of bacon that he said, “Now, tell me about Dorcas.”

  Arielle related what she knew. “So Geordie and Joshua should find her soon. I pray so.”

  She turned at the sound of a cough coming from the doorway. “Mrs. Pepperall, what is it?”

  “Agnes found this, my lady.”

  Agnes, a singularly dim-witted upstairs maid, was standing in the hallway outside the dining room. Arielle accepted the necklace from Mrs. Pepperall. It was old, and the garnets were smooth and quite lovely. “Where was it? Whose is it?”

  “Agnes found it in Dorcas’s things. It belonged to Mellie, my lady. I’m sure of it.”

  Arielle closed her eyes. “Oh, no.”

  “It belonged to Mellie’s grandmother. She was so proud of it. Claimed it was her dowry and any man worth his salt would be proud to accept it.”

  Arielle felt tears sting her eyes. She heard Burke say, “Thank you, Mrs. Pepperall, for bringing it to us. I know Mellie had one aunt still living. The necklace should go to her.”

  “I’ll see to it, my lord,” Mrs. Pepperall said.

  “I thank you.”

  Burke rose and came over to his wife. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

  Arielle raised her face. “She must have killed Mellie, Burke. She must have believed all that malicious gossip about her being a slut. I remember now that she was quite certain about it. I was surprised at her attitude—indeed, I was angry at her for being so close-minded. Oh, God.”

  “Shush,” Burke said. “We’ll find her, then—”

  “Then what? She’s ill. No one can help her—you heard what Dr. Brody said. Just a crazy old woman wandering about by herself.”

  “We’ll find her, Arielle,” he said again.

  She pressed her face against his side.

  “Come, love, here’s Alec and Nesta.”

  “What the devil,” Alec said, coming into the dining room. “Montague is outside wringing his arthritic hands and Mrs. Pepperall is looking positively pale.”

  “The two of you take a seat and we’ll tell you.”

  “Should you be out of bed, Burke?” Nesta asked.

  He grinned, that stone-melting grin that could gain him anything he wished, Arielle was certain of that. “Nesta, my wife pulled me out of bed by my ear. Lord knows, I’m still very weak. She called me a lazy, shiftless clod and—”

  “You’re awful. Now stop it and tell them what’s happened.”

  He did, and all grins disappeared.

  Twenty-one

  Alec and Nesta left Ravensworth Abbey on Friday morning. It promised to be a clear day, not too warm; a perfect day, Alec assured his wife, for travel.

  “So you say,” Nesta said, looking inside the carriage with a jaundiced eye. “You will ride in the fresh air and I will be stuck inside this stuffy thing.”

  “Yes,” said Alec in his deep voice as he lightly touched his hand to his wife’s swelled belly, “but you will have my son with you.”

  “Some company he will be, this so-called son of yours. I think, rather, that we’ve a little daughter. I will speak to her of fashion and how to handle arrogant fathers.”

  Burke and Arielle stood on the lower steps of the Abbey and waved until the carriage had passed from sight around a bend in the drive.

  “Alec seems content, don’t you think?” Arielle said.

  “Content? With what?”

  “Oh, with Nesta, with her pregnancy, I don’t know—with life as he has it on his dish.”

  Burke put his arm around her waist and squeezed her against him. “I will tell you the truth, at least from my perspective. Alec is restless. He must be experiencing new things, visiting different places. He must be doing. He isn’t one to sit in his library and contemplate the vagaries of the philosophers.”

  “Like my father?”

  “Yes. Alec was on the go even here, examining every aspect of our operation. I must admit he gave George good advice whilst I was recovering. I have no doubt that he will throw all his energies into Carrick Grange in Northumberland and have it running like clockwork in no time at all. Unfortunately, then he’ll need something new to occupy his mind and his hands.”

  “There will be his child.”

  “There will also be Nesta, a nanny, a nurse, a governess or a tutor.”

  “Do you think he loves Nesta? Like you, she agrees that he values change, and sex. She told me that was how she held him.”

  Burke threw back his head and laughed deeply. “She was teasing you, Arielle. Alec is an honorable man. He is also a gentleman. He would never be unfaithful to his wife.”

  “No,” Arielle said, staring after the vanished carriage, “but he could stop loving her.”

  “Did you see any evidence of that? Any at all?”

  Arielle shook her head. “You’re right, of course. It’s just that I am worried about her, Burke.”

  “I know that Alec will do his best to see that everything goes well. He said he would send a messenger to us as soon as the child is born. Why so sad, little one? You’ll see Nesta and Alec again soon. And you’ll be an aunt when you do.”

  “Yes, I shall, shan’t I?” she said, brightening a bit. She relapsed into silence for a moment, then said, “Actually, I was thinking about Dorcas, wondering where she was. Do you think she’s still alive, Burke?”

  “If she weren’t, we would have found her body by now. Yes, she’s alive. We’ll continue the search until we find her.”

  Arielle wasn’t to be troubled by thoughts of any sort later that morning. She lay on her back, her legs sprawled wide, Burke over her, his fingers caressing her, his eyes on her expressive face.

  “Arielle.”

  She stifled a moan of pleasure and opened her eyes.

  “This, my love, is something I insist that you will like. In fact, you will very shortly be so beyond yourself that—” He simply stopped, clasped her hips in his large hands, and lifted her to his mouth.

  His tongue, raspy and warm, brought all feeling to a single point. It was sharp and sweet and very close to pain. And she knew she’d die if he stopped. But he didn’t slow or change his rhythm. And then she cried out, quite unable to help herself, and her fingers dug into his shoulders. He reveled in every cry, in every convulsion of her body, and when at last she quieted, he came into her deeply, fully, and she cried out yet again, and this time he took her cry into his mouth.

  “Oh, heavens,” Arielle said.

  “Yes, I agree.” He clasped her more tightly to him, only to wince at the pulling in his shoulder. “Damn, let me rearrange you just a bit. There, that’s better now.”

  She kissed his shoulder and snuggled against him. She said, her voice vague, “I don’t know, Burke. Sometimes I think I’m living in a dream. I’m strong and sure of myself, arrogant perhaps, and I’m filled with more than my share of confidence. And then—”

  He felt her shake her head against his shoulder. He simply waited, his hand lightly stroking her hair. “And then I’m afraid—deep inside—and I know that the fear is what’s truly real and I am nothing but a sham, a coward who’s weak and inept.”

  “Next I hope you say you think of me
.”

  “You, my lord? Very well, and then I think of you.”

  “And just what do you think when you think of me?”

  “You’re more difficult,” she said thoughtfully. “I don’t know if you’re part of the dream. You probably are. A man in the real scheme of things would never allow me—a woman and his wife—so much freedom, encourage such independence of thought and action. No, you, my lord, are part of my dream. You have given me a perfect dream. I thank you for that.”

  His voice became rougher. “And when my seed grows in your womb? Will you say that our child is also part of this dream?”

  She came up over him and he felt her breasts press against his chest. “I don’t know,” she said, giving him light kisses on his mouth. “A child that’s both of us. That sounds very real, doesn’t it?”

  “Particularly when the baby wakes up and starts yelling for his food. Stop moving against me like that, Arielle. I’m very near the shattering point and—”

  “All right.”

  “What?”

  “Shatter, my lord. I wouldn’t want to deny you such an experience, or myself, for that matter.”

  He came into her as they lay facing each other, and the deeper inside her he pushed, the closer they came together, until her breath, warm and sweet, was his, and his flesh, heated and taut, was hers.

  When she moaned into his mouth, her arms so tight around his back that he knew his shoulder would ache like the very devil afterward, he poured himself into her, his teeth clenched, his body glistening with sweat. And he heard what she told him, told him so softly that for a moment he’d doubted his ears. “I love you, Burke.”

  It was all because of that god-awful goose, Geordie thought, wiping his palms on his trousers even as he cursed floridly. Miss Arielle had ordered a dozen of the swarmy creatures, six geese and six ganders, not wanting to be unfair to the females by forming any kind of a harem, she’d announced to him; and now, after only one day of residence at Ravensworth Abbey, a gander with a high opinion of himself had herded two geese ahead of him—all of them as quiet as could be—and escaped the wired-off area.