by Sara Bennett
Meet me at the folly,
R
The folly was an Italianate building on a man-made hill, designed by Lady Isabelle. Tina had not visited it before, and Lady Isabelle had not encouraged her guests to do so, saying it was being repaired. Now she quickened her step, wending her way through the shrub borders and flower gardens, toward the white columns she could see through the trees on the rise above her.
Eventually she was able to see the folly in its entirety; the circular building with its outer shell of columns seemed to float above her like an ancient temple. There were several low steps, also constructed in a circle, leading up to it. When she reached the top she saw that it was actually like a large open room, with bright cushions and furnishings. A place to relax and contemplate the garden, perhaps.
Or a place to make love.
Was that why Lady Isabelle had discouraged them from coming here? Was it her own personal hideaway?
Someone had left a sketch pad and pencil upon a table, and Tina flipped through the drawings, recognizing Vincenzo Veruda in varying stages of undress. She dropped the pages, and they scattered onto the floor.
“What is it?”
Richard had come up behind her without her hearing him—he was good at that—but she was so glad to see him that she didn’t mind. For a moment she simply smiled at him, enjoying the moment, but as she moved toward him, her foot sent one of the pages sailing across the marble floor.
Richard bent to retrieve it.
“Good God,” he muttered, when he saw what it was.
“This must have been their special place,” Tina said, glancing about, feeling a hint of sadness. “Where they had their trysts.”
“At least the signor has gone, and for now Sir Henry can have his wife back.”
Tina gave him a curious look. “You make it sound as if it is a story you have heard before.”
“I have. I’m afraid Lady Isabelle is not a faithful wife, Tina. Signor Veruda was just one in a long line of lovers she has chosen to bestow her favors upon.”
Tina put a hand to her heart. “But that is awful! Does Sir Henry know?”
“Of course he does.”
“And yet he condones it?”
“He loves her, so he puts up with it.”
Tina shook her head. “I can’t imagine it, Richard. I would not put up with it. Marriage . . . love . . . they are forever. That is one thing your lessons have taught me. While I was learning how to pretend to love, I discovered I would never be very good at pretending, not for long. One should choose a partner carefully, and if one is not sure, then one should say no.”
He touched her cheek gently, and smiled. “That is good. Do not lose that, my dearest.”
But his reaction wasn’t what she wanted. He was treating her like a silly innocent, and Tina was neither. She might be young, but she had grown up a great deal lately, and now that she’d formed her opinion she didn’t believe she would change it.
The heart, once given, would be given forever.
Behind her Richard was still speaking. “My brother was married to a woman who was unfaithful to him.” She heard him crumpling up Lady Isabelle’s sketches, one by one. “He never knew, but others did. They looked upon him like a fool, a dupe. I cannot forgive that. He did not deserve that.”
“I’m sorry.”
Richard threw the crumpled pages into a pile on the floor and wiped his hands on his trousers, as if he felt soiled. Tina realized that it mattered to him, too, that loving someone, marrying someone, was a serious business to Richard Eversham. Not something he would take on lightly.
Remembering his words from last night, she wondered if that was how he felt about her. Did he really want to spend the rest of his life with her? But surely, if he did, he wouldn’t let this promise, whatever it was, get in the way. Men, she thought with a touch of scorn. Why did they have to complicate everything?
“I’ll be leaving in the morning,” she told him, watching him carefully, but he didn’t react. “Charles and I will be going back to Mallory Street . . . or wherever we are to live. I’m sorry I won’t be able to pay you for your lessons, Richard.”
“I didn’t want to be paid; well, only if you succeeded in capturing Gilfoyle. Remember? That was our bargain. And frankly I was hoping you would fail.”
Tina smiled—that was better. “The strange thing is that now I don’t want him, Horace suddenly seems to be finding me fascinating. But I know I would be miserable with him. I’m sorry to disappoint my parents, but actually in an odd sort of way I’m looking forward to being poor.”
He laughed. “Tina, do you have any idea what being poor means?”
She pursed her lips, pretending to be serious. “I will have to dress myself and fetch my own breakfast, I suppose.”
“Minx,” he growled, and came toward her.
Chapter 29
Tina tried to run but he caught her around the waist and swung her into his arms. She gasped, and the next moment they were tangled together on the sofa, lying among the soft, colorful cushions.
“I will dress you and fetch your breakfast,” Richard said, leaning over her, his warm gray eyes smiling into hers.
Tina ran a fingertip over his lips, tracing their shape. He cupped her face, smoothing his thumb against her skin, and then he leaned into her and began to kiss her.
The passion she had felt last night, that she always felt when she was with him, instantly caught fire inside her, brighter than ever. His tongue delved into her mouth, teasing her, while his fingers slipped beneath her bodice and found the hard nub of her nipple.
“I thought that was one of the places I shouldn’t allow a gentleman to touch me,” she managed breathlessly.
“I’m not a gentleman,” he said.
“Oh, I think you are,” Tina whispered. “You are very much a gentleman despite what you want people to believe.”
“Would a gentleman do this?” he retorted, reaching down to draw up her skirts into a bundle so that his hand could find her stockinged calf and caress her knee. Tina thought of the darns in the woolen cloth, wondered whether he would notice, and then didn’t care as his fingers found the bare skin where her stocking ended.
She slid her own hands over his chest and down to his belly, finding the hard shape of him beneath the fine cloth of his trousers. Already, she was familiar with his body, wanting to touch him, explore him. And then his fingers found her moist center and he pressed deeper, and she cried out in pleasure and anticipation.
He lifted his face from the crook of her neck, which he’d been kissing, and met her eyes. His own were glittering with desire, and as her hand closed around him, he groaned deep in his throat.
“I want you,” he said, and she could tell he meant it.
His fingers slid into her heat, confident, sure, giving her pleasure. She moved with him, pretending it was his body inside hers, that they were joined together. But they weren’t, and suddenly it wasn’t enough. With an urgent whimper, she pushed him away and sat up, her hair coming loose about her, her breasts bare through the half-open bodice of her dress.
He rolled onto his back and reached for her again, settling her on top of him so that she was straddling him, her hot nakedness pressing against his hard bulge through his trousers. Despite their not being skin to skin, the pressure was exquisite, and she moved against him, hearing her voice deep in her throat, crying out with the pleasure of it.
He gripped her hips, holding her, urging her on, guiding her, until their passion reached its crescendo and tipped into ecstasy.
The first thing Richard thought, when he could think again, was: I won’t have to break my promise. I didn’t lose control although by God it was a close thing.
His arms were full of woman, soft and glorious, and he could feel himself growing aroused again already at the memory of what they had just done. If he didn’t get up and put some distance between them . . . well, how much longer could he trust himself?
And yet he didn’t
move.
She stirred, pushing her hair out of her face, and propped herself up on one slender arm to gaze down at him with sleepy green eyes. She looked utterly magnificent, and he reached up to tuck a long, tangled strand of hair behind her ear. She turned her head to lick his hand with the tip of her pink tongue and then smiled.
“Is it always like this?” she said, and made him laugh with joy. Tina was never afraid to say what she was thinking, and he hoped she’d never change.
“No,” he admitted, “it isn’t. This is . . . exceptional.”
She seemed pleased with that. Her green eyes glowed, and her lips curled into a smile that was tempting him to reach up and kiss her. He wanted to. He wanted to stay here all afternoon and make love to her over and over again. But he had work to do, Sir Henry needed him at his most alert, and when he was with Tina he found his wits too easily went wandering.
While they were wandering this time, she’d begun to unbutton his shirt, and now she slipped her fingers inside it to continue an exploration of his chest. She circled his nipples and raked her fingertips through the line of dark hair that ran down over his belly and disappeared inside his trousers. From the rapt expression on her face she was enjoying what she was finding, and he knew it would only be a matter of moments before those clever fingers were tugging at his buttons, caressing his erection until he was hard to bursting.
He groaned.
She bent to lick his skin. “You taste of . . .”
“Ambrosia?” he managed thickly.
She smiled. “Cigar smoke.”
Unfortunately, that was one of the drawbacks of working for Sir Henry.
“Was that you, last night, in the garden?” she murmured, returning to her work. Her finger circled his nipple and watched it go hard. “But it couldn’t have been, could it, because you were with me? Unless you ran very fast.”
He’d been so intent on enjoying her touch that he hadn’t really been listening to her, but suddenly the words penetrated his pleasure-sodden brain. “Was someone outside in the garden last night?”
She nodded. “I saw the glow of a cigar. One of the men going for a stroll, I expect. Does it matter?” She glanced at him, resting her cheek against his skin, her eyelids heavy over her green eyes. Her naked breast brushed his arm, and he reached out to cup the soft, heavy flesh in his palm. Her eyelashes fluttered, and she made a little sound, half pleasure and half longing for more.
He shook his head. The man in the garden could have been the Captain, plotting, and he’d been playing at seduction with Tina. At one time he would never have allowed anything like that to escape him, and now here he was, too weak to climb out from beneath the woman.
But not just any woman, the voice in his head mocked him. Tina Smythe is certainly not just any woman.
What was she doing now? He made to sit up, just as her hand closed over the hard shape tenting his trousers.
“Sshh,” she whispered, as he groaned, “let me make it better.”
She began to unbutton his trousers, slowly, so that he wanted to shout at her to hurry up. He could tell she was enjoying herself, making him suffer, so he bit his lip and said nothing, letting her have her way.
At last she finished with the buttons and with a smile slipped her hand inside the flap and found him. “Tina,” he said, “you are playing with fire.”
“Am I?”
She held him a moment, then began to stroke him, finally encircling him with her hand and giving a gasp of admiration.
“So big,” she breathed. “I wish . . .” But whatever it was she wished for was never uttered. Instead she showed him with actions rather than words.
He moved involuntarily in her grip, his hips jerking, and this time when she straddled him he was her slave. He could feel her moist heat above him, so hot and tempting, and for a moment he almost stopped her. But then she smiled down at him, her dark hair lying over her shoulders and playing peekaboo with her breasts, and began to slowly, carefully, lower herself onto him.
It was her first time—she was a virgin—but she was determined. She was a goddess, and she wanted him, and he was only a mortal, how could he resist? Richard could see her determination in the set of her mouth and hear it in her little gasps of pleasure and pain. Miss Tina Smythe was going to have her way.
“Tina,” he warned, but he’d left it too late.
His will, always fragile where she was concerned, gave way.
She bit her lip as she felt resistance—her blasted maidenhead—but now it was his turn, and with a jerk of his hips he’d pushed through the thin membrane and lodged deep inside her. She cried out, but almost at once she was moving against him, her expression utterly rapt at the sensation created.
“I feel you . . . inside me . . .” she panted.
He guided her movements, quickening his thrusts, deeper, and then her body began to contract about him.
She cried out, her climax rippling through her, and he grasped her hips, driving up into her, and giving his own cry of pleasure. And despair.
He’d broken his promise.
Or at least he soon would.
Richard pulled her down into his arms, so that she couldn’t see his face, and held her, both of them gasping for breath. He tried to examine how he felt emotionally, and knew he should be feeling guilty. But he couldn’t feel guilt or dismay or even sadness. He was too busy feeling like the luckiest man in England.
As if to berate him for his lack of remorse, there was the rumble of thunder outside as a storm began to build.
The perfect weather had finally broken.
Chapter 30
Tina had reached her room and begun to wash and change for the evening. She’d taken a circuitous route back to the hall and was confident no one had seen her. She’d left Richard at the folly.
He’d been very quiet, as if he had something on his mind. Or perhaps, she thought with a smile, he was simply worn-out from their lovemaking. Her own body had a slight ache where he had joined with her, but she didn’t regret it for a moment. And he hadn’t protested despite his promise.
Should she feel guilty about his breaking it? Surely, if it had been important, he would have explained what it was and why he needed to keep it? Tina was inclined to think that if he really hadn’t wanted to break it, then he wouldn’t have. Or was it a bit like her “promise” to marry Horace, something that waxed and waned with the changing situation.
And now that they were physical lovers would Richard try to persuade her to marry him? Well, she wasn’t at all certain she wanted to marry him. Richard was obviously not a wealthy man—no one with money would have a job teaching seduction—so if they wed, they would both be poor. Where was the point in that?
No, much better to stay free and live life as they pleased. They could come together—she was looking forward to visits from Richard and secret trysts, rather like Lady Isabelle. That sounded far more romantic, and just now, after all she’d been through, Tina was rather keen on filling her life with romance. She didn’t think she loved Richard—she’d thought she loved Horace, but now she was sure she didn’t. What she needed was more time to come to a conclusion, and that meant more time in Richard’s arms. Oh yes, she was looking forward to that.
Tina had stripped off her clothing and was carefully dressing in another of her new gowns when Maria opened the door.
“Miss? Why didn’t you call me to help?”
Tina avoided her maid’s suspicious eyes. “I have to learn to dress myself, Maria.”
She hoped Maria might leave again, but the maid came closer, casting a narrowed glance over the pile of clothing on the floor. She picked up a hairbrush and lifted some loose strands of Tina’s dark hair, inspecting it.
“There are a great many knots in your hair, miss.”
“Are there?”
“And it is damp. Were you out in the storm?”
Tina smiled. “Yes, I was. I ran back through the rain. It was very exciting, with the thunder crashing and the lig
htning flashing. I suppose that is the last of the sunshine now. Oh well.”
Even as she spoke, the wind blew a patter of water against the window, and the view of the garden and the river was now smeary with rain.
“You’ve been with him, haven’t you? Mr. Eversham.”
She thought about denying it but decided there was no point. And what did it matter what Maria thought now? Everything was about to change, and Maria would no longer be a part of her life. She felt a twinge of sadness at the thought; she and Maria had been together a long time. But, hopefully, her maid would find her own happiness with Archie.
“Yes, we met in the folly. Lady Isabelle’s folly.”
Tina had never thought Maria was a hand-wringing sort of person, but now here she was, wringing her hands. “Miss Tina, don’t you realize how dangerous this behavior is? And Mr. Eversham is not a man to be trusted.”
Tina was on the verge of dismissing this comment when something in Maria’s expression caught her attention. She took a step toward her, staring into her face. “What do you know, Maria? Has Archie told you something? Come, you’d better tell me.”
Maria shook her head, stepping backward as Tina came forward, the brush in front of her as if it might protect her.
“Is he a fortune hunter?” Tina demanded.
“No. That was what I thought, but Archie says he has a great deal of money.”
Tina took another step and almost stumbled. Richard was rich? Then why . . . ? But she put that fact aside and concentrated on Maria. If she wanted her questions answered, then she would have to force her maid—who’d suddenly developed an uncharacteristic reticence—to answer them.
“Then what is it you know? Come, Maria, you’d better tell me. I didn’t think we had any secrets.”
Maria gave her a skeptical look. “You are the one with secrets, Miss Tina.”