‘I am beginning to think it would have been a terrible mistake for me to come and live in Paris. I should have been the size of a small cow within weeks with all this wonderful food,’ Lucy said. Avery nodded as he licked the delicious, rich chocolate sauce from his spoon. When the last of the champagne was gone, they made their way back up the embankment stairs to the cathedral.
Avery watched as Lucy rattled off a comprehensive list of details about the cathedral. So detailed was her knowledge of Notre Dame, he wondered if there was anyone else in the city of Paris who knew as much as she did.
‘Did you know there used to be a tall belltower spire on the cathedral, but it was taken down in the last century? I’ve seen sketches of it. I wonder if someday they will rebuild it.’
When she turned and looked at him, an easy smile found its way to his lips.
‘What?’ she asked.
‘Nothing,’ he replied.
Sometime during Lucy’s dissertation he had stopped hearing her words. It was his heart which had his full attention. It had finally spoken.
The realisation that he loved her was not completely earth-shattering. He had suspected he was falling in love with her long before they set sail for France. At the Key he had felt the first stirrings of what had been for him an unknown emotion.
His whole life he had stifled any thought of joy. Stuffed it back down inside, locked it away. A miserable childhood, followed by years of hardship and war, had left him wary of people who found delight in life.
But this girl, nay, this woman had given him the greatest gift imaginable. Freely and without reservation she had opened her heart to him. The merest touch of her fingers set his skin on fire. Lucy. His wife.
He chuckled softly, knowing she would always be surprising him.
‘Avery?’ she said.
‘Come, let’s go back to the hotel,’ he said.
‘But there’s lots more I can tell you about the architecture of the cathedral. We haven’t even gone inside yet,’ Lucy said.
‘As I said when we first got here, Notre Dame is still going to be here tomorrow. And so shall we. There are more pressing matters,’ he replied.
Once inside their room, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her deeply. She responded, as always, with warmth and passion. Her lips tasted of the honey and butter from the fresh bun he had bought her on their walk back to the Hotel Meurice. As he licked the last of the sweet honey from the corner of her mouth she groaned and he felt himself go hard.
When he finally released her from his embrace, he stood holding her hands, taking her in.
Lucy raised a quizzical eyebrow. ‘Are you going to tell me or not?’
‘What?’ He knew she had been watching him closely on the walk back along the river to their hotel.
‘Something has changed within you. I have never seen you smile as you have today. You almost seem happy,’ she explained.
Avery took a deep breath, surprised at the degree of apprehension he felt over telling Lucy what was on his mind.
‘I love you, Lucy. I love my wife. And if that is what makes me smile, then yes, I suppose it is happiness,’ he said.
He saw realisation in her eyes as she beheld the truth.
He loved her.
‘Oh, Avery, I love you too,’ she murmured.
She threw her arms around him and held on tight. He kissed her hair and pulled her close. Her body shuddered with sobs, but he didn’t mind. He could deal gladly with tears of joy.
‘I wish I wasn’t such a watering pot,’ Lucy said.
Avery lifted her face and kissed away the tears on her cheeks.
‘Never be ashamed of your open nature, my love. It’s what makes you uniquely Lucy. I know exactly where I stand with you. There is no hiding behind a mask.’
If there was anyone who should be feeling a sense of shame, he knew it was himself. Lucy had succumbed to her fate and accepted her love for him long ago. Even when she agreed to end their union, it was because she had loved him enough to let him go.
‘I’m sorry I held myself back from you for so long. I didn’t know how to love you. I’m still learning, but I assure you all doubt is now gone.’
She offered him her lips. The hungry, needful kiss they shared spoke more than mere words.
‘I have an idea,’ he said. He took hold of her hand and led her toward the balcony doors. Pulling back the curtains, he opened the two large glass doors. Now they had an uninterrupted view of Notre Dame.
‘Can you see the cathedral?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Good, now keep your gaze fixed on it.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Lucy stood looking out over the rooftops at the two massive stone towers which reared up into the sky at the western end of the cathedral. For a moment, the room was silent as she took in the magnificent view.
Avery removed her coat. When she turned to thank him, he frowned and reminded her to keep looking at the cathedral.
A shiver of anticipation slid through her body as his fingers painstakingly unbuttoned the back of her gown. He slid the bodice down over her shoulders, leaving her breasts bare to the cool air of the late afternoon.
He whistled.
‘It’s the French mode of dress. Nothing under the gown,’ she said.
‘I like it,’ he murmured in her ear.
She swallowed. His words dripped with desire.
He placed a trail of long, hot kisses down her spine. Then, kneeling behind her, he pushed the skirt of her gown over her hips and it fell to the floor.
Apart from her stockings and slippers, Lucy was now completely naked in front of the doorway.
‘Shouldn’t we close the balcony doors?’ she asked.
‘No,’ came the adamant reply.
He came and stood in front of her, temporarily blocking her view of the cathedral.
‘No one can see you, only me.’
He briefly kissed her lips, then his attention shifted to her breasts. He took the nipple of her left breast into his mouth. In the short time they had been lovers, they had discovered this nipple was the one which roused her most rapidly to a heightened sexual state.
He suckled hard and she whimpered. His other hand took hold of her right breast and began to gently twist and tease the other nipple. The mixture of pleasure and pain was exquisite. She closed her eyes as her body succumbed.
When he slid his hand up her inside thigh and pressed a thumb into her moistened heat, Lucy cried out. She clutched at him.
Her eyes flew open. Avery was still fully clothed! She reached for his buttons, but he pushed her hand away. ‘I may be powerless against you in love, but in this sphere I am in command. You will obey.’
Completely naked before the world and in full daylight, she should be feeling nothing but shame as her husband brought forth her wanton desire. Instead, she revelled in his hot, demanding attention. She would do exactly as he ordered.
He knelt before her.
She placed a hand gently on his dark hair as the first lap of Avery’s tongue touched her pleasure nub. She shivered as her whole world shifted.
‘Keep looking at the cathedral. Now tell me everything you know about Notre Dame,’ he instructed.
A knowing smile crept across her lips. She understood the game. If he forced her to keep looking at Notre Dame while he pleasured her with his tongue she would have to cede her mind to him as well as her body.
‘Construction of the cathedral commenced during the reign of Louis the Seventh . . . oh God.’
His tongue delved deeper.
‘It was one of the first buildings in the world to use flying buttresses.’
She gripped tightly to his shoulders, sobbing as with every touch and thrust Avery brought her closer to the edge. He slipped two fingers inside her. The forceful strokes made her weak at the knees.
In the second before she came, Lucy managed one last glance at the cathedral. Then she soared.
As she returned to eart
h, her heartbeat slowing, Lucy chortled. While she had been staring at one of the greatest cathedrals in the world Avery had taken her to heaven.
‘Good. Now for the next part,’ he said, getting to his feet.
He led her over to the bed and arranged her on her knees, facing away from him. He threw off his coat and jacket before releasing his manhood from his trousers.
‘Now show me just how willing you are to serve under my command,’ he said, sliding his hard length into her from behind.
Lucy’s still throbbing flesh welcomed him. His hands gripped her hips and he began to thrust deep into her body.
‘Oh yes, take me,’ she begged.
He groaned.
‘Take me what?’ he demanded.
‘Take me, sir!’ she cried.
The pace of their coupling increased. She could hear the desperation to reach the end in the shortness of his breath.
‘I want to hear you scream when I make you climax,’ he said gruffly.
He shifted behind her, forcing her lower onto the bed. She was completely at his mercy. His hips began to rock her and the bed, slowly building the pressure within her once more.
With Avery pounding deep into her heat, Lucy knew the answer to the question of whether she could climax a second time in a matter of minutes was surely yes.
Avery slowed his thrusts. The grip of his hands on her hips lessened.
Head down, arms out in front of her, Lucy sensed a change in the room. He withdrew from her, but she knew he had not found his release.
The sound of his boots hitting the floor echoed in the room as he hurriedly undressed. He came quickly back to her. Strong, masculine arms wrapped around her body and lifted her upward, bringing her to sit facing him on his naked lap.
She brushed her fingers appreciatively over the dark curls of his chest hair. Then ran her hands over his broad, strong shoulders. He was a magnificent man and he was all hers. Avery cupped Lucy’s chin in his hand and placed a fiery kiss on her mouth.
‘This is how our wedding night should have been. How it will be for every night from now on. I need you to understand exactly what you have come to mean to me,’ Avery said.
The passion in his eyes and the husky tone of his voice spoke of his highly aroused state. His thirst for her would never be slaked.
Lucy shifted, straddled Avery and guided his erection to her moistened opening.
‘If this is to be our wedding night, then it should be for the both of us. I want you to know how much being your wife means to me,’ she replied.
She had stood alongside him as he bravely faced down the demons of his past; now she needed to show Avery that she was truly his partner in their marriage. That they could forge a strong future together.
As she lowered herself down, impaling her heated body on his erection, Avery closed his eyes. Lucy smiled when he groaned as she slowly began to ride him.
‘I knew you would be a fast learner,’ he said.
When Lucy reached behind her and cupped Avery’s balls, he gave a deep growl of satisfaction.
‘You have no idea,’ she teased.
Images of the pictures she had seen in Millie’s copy of the Kama Sutra came to mind. Now was the time to put those illicit readings into practice.
The sun had begun to sink down below the other side of the city when Avery finally stirred Lucy from her post-coital slumber.
‘Hungry?’
She nodded. ‘Ravenous.’
‘Good, supper should be arriving soon.’
He climbed out of bed and went to his travel chest. It still amazed him that a gentleman needed such an elaborate piece of equipment just to travel. His trusty old leather knapsack, now empty, would have to find a new use.
He had thought to throw it away, but Lucy protested. She refused to let him set aside his old life completely.
‘It will be useful for fishing,’ she said, putting the bag into the cupboard in their room.
He opened the top drawer of his travel chest and took out a small silk bag.
Lucy, warm and still sleepy, welcomed him back into their bed with a tempting kiss. He took hold of her eager fingers and held them at bay.
‘Later, my insatiable minx. I have something for you.’
An expectant grin appeared on her face when he held up the small silk bag.
‘Your father released some of your dowry funds to me personally before we left Scotland,’ he said, chuckling when he saw her eyes grow wide.
‘I had no idea,’ Lucy replied.
‘I think that was the idea. You were not to know everything.’
She gave him a playful punch on the arm.
‘Beast.’
‘Before I give you this, I need to ask you something. Be certain of your answer,’ he said.
‘Go on,’ she whispered, hands held in prayer to her lips.
‘Lady Lucy, love of my heart, will you be my wife?’
She managed a small but resolute yes.
Avery withdrew the ring from the bag and held it up to the pale evening light. The large diamond in the centre reflected the fire of the rubies which sat ringed around it on the top of the bezel.
When he’d entered the shop of Fossin, the jeweller’s, at Place Vendome that morning, William Saunders beside him, he had not known what style of ring to buy. Will had suggested a single diamond, but as soon as he set eyes on this particular ring, Avery knew it was perfect for Lucy.
He recalled how his hand had been shaking when he signed the bank instruction to settle the bill. He had checked the invoice twice. As they left the shop, Will had proudly patted him on the back.
Lucy said, ‘It’s beautiful, but you shouldn’t feel obliged to buy me a betrothal ring, we are already married. Besides, your love is more precious to me than any jewel.’
Avery slipped the ring on her finger. The delight which shone in Lucy’s eyes told him what she truly thought of the gift.
‘I need to make amends for the awful way I have treated you. You should have a betrothal ring. I want you to be able to show it off to your friends and family when we return to London. For everyone to know that ours is a real marriage,’ he replied.
At the time, his refusal to hold their wedding at St George’s or host a formal wedding ball had felt as if he was sending a message to London society. His life would not be dictated by others who thought themselves better than him. This union had been forced upon him, but only he would decide how proceedings would be conducted.
Looking at his tousle-haired wife, he knew his behaviour had been petulant and petty. Against her better judgement, and her heart, Lucy had offered him his freedom. To his dying day he would be grateful she had not given up on him.
As someone of pure heart, Lucy deserved the very best.
‘Thank you,’ she said, choking back tears.
He brushed the first tear away with his lips.
‘I promise we shall have a huge ball once everyone gets back to London. You will be able to tell everyone all about our honeymoon in France.’
‘Not all of it,’ she sighed, wrapping her arms around him.
Some memories of Paris would only be for the two of them.
EPILOGUE
William Saunders closed the door to his small house and climbed the stairs. It wasn’t actually his house; he simply rented a small garret under the eaves, but his landlady Madame Dessaint had always made him feel at home.
Stopping at the dining room on the first floor, he spied his evening meal. A ceramic pot stood in the middle of the rough wooden table, and a spoon lay next to it.
He lifted up the lid.
‘Cassoulet, what a surprise,’ he murmured.
He chuckled softly. It was Tuesday. Madame Dessaint always cooked cassoulet on Tuesdays.
‘One has to praise a woman who keeps to a strict routine.’
He dipped the spoon into the pork and white bean stew and pondered his words.
Strict routine.
Putting the spoon down, he
stared once more at the pot. Madame Dessaint had served up the same seven-dish repertoire every week since William took up his lodgings.
Three years, nearly four, since he had moved here from the house he had once shared with Yvette.
He wiped away an unbidden tear. ‘Don’t,’ he urged himself. Tears would not bring back his wife. The assassin’s knife had made sure of it. As he had done so many times before, he forced the memory of that night from his mind.
‘I wonder how Lucy and Avery are getting on,’ he said to the empty room.
When he had bid them farewell from Paris two weeks earlier, it was with the hope that they would find the secret to a happy future together. Avery would one day make a fine Lord Langham.
For the first time in a long time, Will suddenly felt a sense of overwhelming loneliness. His journey home to England earlier in the summer had been bittersweet. Once he had dreamed of happily squiring his lovely French bride home to meet his family. Instead he had worn the dark garb of a widower.
He smiled, recalling the look of unbridled happiness Avery had sported the last day he had seen him. Every time Lucy stepped more than a foot or so away from him, Avery had reached out and pulled her back to his side.
Will remembered that feeling. The warmth of knowing that you and another person were truly one.
He left the dining room, his interest in food gone. Within him a different hunger began to burn. The need for sustenance of another kind. Something he sensed he would not find in Paris.
Reaching his room, he pulled a large travel trunk from the corner and placed it in the middle of the floor.
Apart from some minor business interests which he could easily manage from London, there was nothing to keep him in France. He had remained purely out of habit.
His parents and siblings would no doubt be pleased when he turned up on their doorstep and announced his permanent return to England.
‘Madame Dessaint, I shall miss your culinary skills,’ he murmured.
Kneeling in front of the trunk, he threw open the lid. It would take but a short time to pack all his things.
It was time for him to go home.
Time that William Saunders began to live again.
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