Finally, after what seemed like forever to Ram, they made their way to the inn where the day had started, to retrieve Mercury. Ram walked beside Izzy, hurrying to catch her as she stumbled. When she looked up into his eyes with a wide smile, comprehension dawned. She was foxed!
Damn! He’d plied her with drink for refreshment sake, and, if he were totally honest with himself, perhaps to lower her inhibitions a bit as well. He’d not meant to make her bosky!
He stopped and put his hand beneath her chin, lifting her face to his. “Izzy, sweetheart, are you well?”
“Aye, Julian.” She bestowed a big, toothy smile upon him. “I’ve had the most wonderful day!”
“Have you had too much ale?”
She scrunched her face adorably in thought as she considered the question. “I’m not at all sure. I’m not accustomed to drinking ale, you see. I didn’t even like it this morn, but it’s grown on me. I do feel rather strange, now that I think upon it.”
He groaned low. She’d been drinking at a steady pace all day. Plans for a night spent romping beneath the bed sheets fast dwindled away.
“Come, let’s get you home.” He sighed with resignation. He might be a libertine of the highest order, but he did not debauch women when they were too inebriated to participate in their debauchment.
After reclaiming Mercury, he helped her into the saddle, then hoisted himself behind her. She wriggled as she tried to get comfortable, an action that left him distinctly uncomfortable. He was glad when she settled down as he guided the horse from the coast towards Wadebridge.
She was asleep within minutes, leaning against his chest, trusting him in a way that pulled at his heartstrings. He tightened his arms about her to hold her steady as they journeyed on. Sitting behind her, he inhaled her delicate scent. She smelled of sunshine and festivity. She was springtime in his arms. It had been a long time since he’d known such contentment with a woman. Perhaps he’d actually never been more content with any woman.
I could make her my mistress.
Ram sat straighter as he considered the idea. He hadn’t even bedded her yet. Still, could there be any real doubt as to their compatibility in the bedchamber, given their mutual physical attraction and the way they burned when they touched?
He was about to be saddled with a wife he didn’t want. A woman all but guaranteed to be shallow, vain, and insipid. No doubt she’d wish to remain in London, at Charles’s court, where Ram had no desire to live. He’d never intended to even pay lip service to his wedding vows and doubted very much his betrothed intended so either. Court life was rife with indiscretion and licentious behavior. Ram had intended to keep his current mistress, Louisa, after his wedding, but her appeal had waned of late, and compared to Izzy, Louisa didn’t hold a candle. As no man wanted to handle more than one mistress at a time, the choice was an easy one. If Izzy was amenable, he’d end his relationship with Louisa in a trice. Cornwall could become his escape, Izzy’s arms his haven.
Resting his chin atop her head, he smiled. He’d enjoy showering her with luxuries, watching her enjoy the best his money could buy- things she’d probably never dreamed of having.
Of course, he mustn’t rush her or he chanced scaring her off. He also needed to mull over the idea of making her his mistress when he himself wasn’t half-flown with ale and aroused to the point of madness. Initially he’d intended to be in Cornwall only long enough to sneak a peek at his bride-to-be, but now his plans changed. He’d stay for a time.
Ram reluctantly awoke her when they reached their destination since he didn’t know where she lived. She peered up at him with groggy eyes as she tried to clear her head, looking around as if surprised to find herself back in Wadebridge so soon. Disappointment flitted across her unguarded features and he allowed himself to savor her flattering reaction. She was as sorry to leave his company as he was to let her go.
“Where is your home?” He asked low.
She shook her head with vehemence. “N-nay. Mama mustn’t see me come home with you. Please, I don’t live far; I’ll be all right to walk the rest of the way.”
He frowned, not liking the idea of leaving her alone in the dead of night. If she were a lady there was nothing that would keep him from taking her to her very door. But she wasn’t a lady, and likely quite used to taking care of herself, and so he’d abide by her wishes.
Loath to let her go, he entreated her, “Meet me on the morrow?”
She studied him for a moment, head cocked to the side. Then she nodded and her lips turned up in a smile. He released a breath he hadn’t been aware he’d been holding.
“Where?” she asked.
“At the riverbank, where we met this morn?”
“I’ll be there at noon!” She started to turn away, but he grabbed a hold of her arm, pulling her back into his embrace. He lowered his head and brushed his mouth over hers.
“Until tomorrow.”
Her breath hitched in her throat and she smiled again. “Tomorrow.” And then she hurried away from him, toward a street enshrouded in darkness.
Ram stared after her in a rare moment of uncertainty. Perhaps he should follow from a discreet distance. Make certain she would be safe. But even though it was one of the busiest nights of the year, the streets were quiet and no one seemed to be about. Anyone with a lick of sense was taking advantage of the festival; cozying up with their lovers in bedrooms, barns, fields— even under the bushes. That old childhood ditty flashed through his mind; ‘Hooray, hooray, the first of May! Outdoor fucking starts today!’ Well, for everyone else, apparently. Letting his head fall back, Ram laughed at himself and the situation. When his mirth had run its course, Izzy was lost from sight.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the white cap she’d lost that morning and brought it to his nose, inhaling her delicate scent. Faintly aroused once more, he warmed himself instead with thoughts of what he would do with her on the morrow, and turned Mercury towards his father’s stable.
***
Izzy strode down the cobbled street, panicked. She’d never intended to stay out so late. And now Julian had dropped her off in Wadebridge, and she still had over a mile to tread to reach her home. Had she been missed yet?
She scurried towards a building that cast a looming shadow and, safely out of sight, turned to see whether Julian would follow or not. He stared in her direction for a moment and she could swear she heard laughter, but then he turned Mercury around and trotted off. She breathed a sigh of relief.
When he was no longer visible, she reversed direction and hurried out of the village. The journey ahead seemed immense, but certainly that was due to the pounding in her head. Damn and blast! She never should have drank so much ale. Her overindulgence had cost her what she most desired and what she’d set out this day to achieve.
Even with an aching head and a mouth that tasted as if she’d sucked on a woolen sock, she shivered with excitement at the memory of her stolen moments with Julian. She’d had the most enjoyable day of her life, and she intended to thank him for it on the morrow, in a very improper manner. Despite the liberties he’d taken with her, he’d remained a gentleman for the most part. But it was not a gentleman she needed now. She’d seen the signs. Beneath the courteous exterior, Julian was all virile male. Just thinking about the kisses they’d shared was enough to set her pulse hammering in her veins.
Had she not indulged in so many tankards of ale, she’d no doubt be in his arms right now. When he’d woken her when they’d arrived in Wadebridge, the disappointment was so keen it had snatched her breath.
But none of that mattered now. He wanted to see her again! She hugged herself in happiness and relief.
She sped her pace, chewing her lip as she rehashed the argument she’d had with her cousin last week. Had Belinda correctly guessed the reason behind her disappearance today and ratted her out? Belinda was her second cousin through her mother’s aunt, and her closest friend in the world; they’d been raised together like sisters. But Bel had a
lways been more straight-laced and less willing to step outside proper boundaries.
Belinda thought Izzy should cease fighting her family and accept her fate. And though Izzy had always believed the choice of husband would be hers to make, she’d intended to do just that and abide by her word…until the day the betrothal agreement had been signed. Her future husband couldn’t even be bothered to come in person to put his name to the paper. Unable to tear himself away from his revelries in London, the Viscount had sent his solicitor as proxy to sign in his place. Given away for coin and land by her father, yet unwanted by her future husband, Izzy had become nothing more than an afterthought.
She’d snatched the document from Papa’s hand to read it herself, much to the horror of her betrothed’s proxy. To Papa’s credit, he’d allowed her to read it all, ever a firm believer that women should be involved in the political and social process affecting their lives. Then he’d duly signed the contract without hearing her out further, trading her away for his own political and financial means.
Even now the terms of that document made her burn. The first part was straightforward enough. The date and time of the nuptials were laid out, along with the money and land to trade hands when the families were joined.
The part of the contract pertaining specifically to her had been most appalling. If they’d been trying apurpose to insult her, they couldn’t have done a better job. Written out on the parchment in exacting detail were her future “duties” as the wife of such an elevated peer of the realm. All was described in meticulous detail— from the appropriate clothing she would wear, to the proper way she’d handle herself when amongst other peers— as if they feared she might be so lacking she didn’t already know how a lady should behave!
But the most galling stipulation of all was the clause dealing with the matter of her virtue. Ever an issue to a nobleman lest his all-important title go to a brat not of his blood, the contract stated that should it bear out she was no virgin on the wedding night, an annulment would be duly sought. It was a usual expectation and there was already a remedy at law should that bear out, but to put it into a betrothal agreement was unheard of! An insult! ‘Twas almost as if her betrothed wanted her to cry off from marrying him. If it hadn’t been meant as an insult then it could only be that her betrothed was truly puritanical, not simply a parliamentarian. She shuddered at the very idea.
She’d expected Papa to explode at the insinuation she might not be virtuous and do just that— tell the proxy where he could take the betrothal and shove it—, but Papa had taken it in stride, as though such clauses were commonplace. He’d not seen it as an affront to her character. That Papa hadn’t objected was proof of just how desperate for coin he really was.
Panic had set in, for she realized then her father was blinded by the money and the land. It was one thing to marry a roundhead for the sake of her family. But a man who couldn’t be bothered to put in an appearance to even meet her, and who could force her to sign a degrading contract with such rigid stipulations? What kind of life was she destined for with a man such as that? As much as she wanted to do right by her family, she couldn’t do it. She was not like most of the other unmarried young women she knew. She’d spent nearly a decade living in exile on the Continent, where she’d lived with a fair degree of freedom. She’d never been loose with her morals, of course, but the thought of binding herself for life to a man who sounded like nothing more than a stuffy puritan seemed as dire as a life sentence. She’d resolved anew to find a way to avoid the marriage.
Desperation cooled into resolution as she approached the house. She had found a way to avoid the marriage, she reminded herself, and his name was Julian. The memory of his warm grey eyes and soft lips made her smile. He was perfect. Perfect for the plan her cousin Belinda had unwittingly hatched upon the casual observation that if Izzy were no longer a virgin the requirements of the accursed marital contract would be broken.
As soon as Belinda said the words, Izzy had known that was the answer to her desperate plight. If she was no longer virgin, she could no longer satisfy the terms of the betrothal. Though she’d always imagined Paul would be the one to take her virginity, she didn’t fear giving it to a man like Julian. After all, she had spent most of her life amongst exiled courtiers and French aristocracy, and the French never shied away from discussing affairs of the heart. She knew what lovemaking involved, why, she’d wandered upon couples more than once in flagrante delicto in some secluded spot in one palace or another. She had no fear of the sexual act. There would be some pain the first time, and then, with the right man, there’d be only pleasure. What was there to fear?
Julian was the right man. She was convinced of it.
There were only three weeks and four days until the wedding. Only three days if she took into account it was well after midnight and now officially Thursday. But thanks to Julian, by this time tomorrow she would no longer be a virgin and her betrothed would cry off. Everything would be well. If Paul didn’t return for her, she’d choose another man to wed, one that would please both her father and herself. Giving away her virtue before marriage wasn’t a wanton act, it was a desperate one!
A breeze sighed through the trees and she shivered, wishing she’d thought to bring a cloak. But then, she hadn’t meant to be out so very late. Her darkened home loomed like an impenetrable fortress ahead. How was she to get inside unnoticed and unseen? She dared not try the front door, lest the butler hear and remark to her parents about her late entry. Creeping around to the servants’ entrance in the back of the house, she tried the door, surprised to find it spring open beneath her fingers. Sending fervent thanks to whatever higher power was watching over her, she quickly locked the door and scurried up the back stairs, not stopping until she was safely in her chamber.
She slipped inside and as quietly as possible let the door close, then turned around and nearly jumped out of her skin to find a night-rail clad Belinda sitting in a chair, awaiting her return.
“Where have you been?” Her cousin cried, rising from the chair so abruptly she upended the book on her lap.
Izzy wasn’t expecting Belinda to be so distressed. “I’ve been at the village, partaking of the May Day celebrations.”
“I thought you ran away. I told your parents you were ill and wouldn’t be downstairs today and that I would care for you, but I began to think I made a terrible mistake. Had you not come home within the next hour I was going to wake your father and tell him everything.”
Izzy embraced her hard. “Oh, Belinda, you’re the best friend anyone could ask for. Did you leave the servants’ entrance unlocked for me?”
Belinda pushed away from her in a violent motion. “I did. Where have you been?” She wrinkled her nose. “You smell like ale, horse, and man.”
“I told you, I was celebrating the May Day.”
“With a man?”
“There were many men there, Bel.”
Her cousin rolled her eyes. “Don’t play coy with me, Izzy. Did you give up your virtue, as you threatened?”
Izzy sighed, glad to be able to tell the truth about this one thing at least. “I swear to you, my virginity is as intact as it was when I left this house this morning.”
Belinda heaved a great sigh of relief. “I’ve been worried sick all day.”
“I’m truly sorry, Bel. I didn’t know you would be so concerned.”
“What was I to think after your mad talk last week of letting a stranger take your virtue?”
“It’s not madness to want to find a way to be with the man I love.”
Belinda’s blue eyes widened with horror. “No reputable man will ever marry you if you gain a reputation as a woman of loose morals. Think you Paul would have you with such a reputation?”
“Paul loves me. He would understand if I need take drastic measures to avoid a marriage to one of Cromwell’s cronies.”
Even as she said the words, a twinge of doubt stabbed her. Paul was every bit a nobleman as any other. He wouldn�
�t want to tread where others had gone before. But he loved her. Surely, when she explained her reasoning he would understand her desperation. Especially when she reminded him she’d been driven to such an extreme act because he’d not come for her as he’d promised. If only she’d received any communication from him, hinting at when he might return to claim her!
Too weary to argue and afraid her arguments might raise Belinda’s suspicions, Izzy capitulated. “’Twas just talk on my part, and well you know it. Come, it’s late, and I’m exhausted. Can we discuss this tomorrow?”
Belinda nodded. “I think it best I sleep in here, lest your parents disbelieve I’ve been caring for you all evening.”
Damn and double damn. It would be much harder to slip away for her rendezvous with Julian in the morning if Belinda were underfoot. Still, she owed her cousin for all she’d done this day. In light of that, Izzy forced a smile and pulled out the truckle bed for her cousin, as she’d done hundreds of times before.
When they were both in their beds and the lamps had been extinguished, she listened to Belinda’s breathing turn even, a sure sign her cousin was fast asleep. Izzy couldn’t slip into the same state of bliss. Memories of smoky grey eyes filled with promise and a white-toothed grin set into a chiseled jaw haunted her, set her heart pounding.
Morning couldn’t arrive soon enough.
Chapter 4
Ram waited in his father’s study first thing the next morning. After everything that happened yesterday, it was even clearer now why he couldn’t marry the girl his father wished on him. Oh, he had no illusions he could marry a peasant girl like Izzy, but he certainly didn’t want to be tied to a court-bred gossipmonger for the rest of his days. Somewhere there existed a happy medium, and he intended to find it.
Virtue and Vice Page 4