“Well, that is half the enlightenment, right there.” Rebecca tittered. “And I would wager Ross will be gentle, so you need not worry.”
“Then what am I to do?” Elaine fanned herself, as she pictured Cara’s legs wrapped about Lance’s hips. “I mean, what are my duties?”
“Duties?” Sabrina asked in a high-pitched voice. “My dear Elaine, sex is not a chore.”
“But I do not want to simply lie there.” Shifting in her seat, Elaine tried but failed to ignore the fascinating singsong of Cara’s cries, as Lance worked his magic on his wife. Would Ross take Elaine like that? Would the agent provocateur inspire similar exultation, as Elaine speared her fingers through his hair and dug her heels into his flanks? “I want to be an active participant.”
“Trust me, you will be an active participant.” Sabrina snorted and drained her crystal flute of champagne.
“Just be sure to praise Ross’s efforts.” Caroline signaled Brie for a refill, and it struck Elaine as odd that the wives conversed so effortlessly of the enthralling subject, when society frowned on such behavior. “In fact, when your husband groans in completion, I suggest you scream, as it will sooth Ross’s pride.”
“Indeed, Caroline is correct in her counsel.” Daphne canted her head. “When it comes to coitus, men are vulnerable spirits and require profuse validation. If I am too quiet, Dalton takes it as a personal reflection of his inadequacies, and I spend half the night reassuring him that he is still hale, whole, and virile beyond compare. We must spare their feelings, in that respect.”
“So I should scream.” Elaine committed that to memory. “Alex, if I may inquire, why does Jason spank you, and does it not hurt?”
“It would hurt if he spanked me in earnest, but he does not.” Alex laughed. “His actions are merely a prelude to lovemaking, and I am not the least bit ashamed, because everyone knows my husband is a unique individual. But Jason would never do anything to cause me pain, and I must confess I enjoy what he does for me.” She leaned forward. “I recommend you give yourself time to get to know Ross and his naughty habits. Some may be more startling than others, especially if his tastes tend toward the unconventional, but what occurs in your marriage bed is your business and no one else’s. Never forget that only the two people involved in the union know what truly goes on between you, and if you are amenable, then you have done nothing wrong.”
“How fascinating and heartening.” Elaine pondered the information and another query formed in her brain. “Lenore, just how did you and Blake break that Ming vase in the Howard’s morning room?”
“The answer is rather pedestrian.” With an air of smug satisfaction, Lenore waggled her brows. “When Blake makes love, every conceivable surface and venue functions as a means to engage in his favorite activity, and floors are no exception. In short, we got carried away, rolled into a table, and toppled the expensive artifact.”
A chorus of mirth broke through the tension investing Elaine’s shoulders, and she inserted Ross into a similar fantasy.
“How peculiar.” And stimulating, as Elaine made another mental note for future reference. “Does the fear of discovery not temper the pleasure?”
“Oh, it has quite the opposite effect.” Lenore paused, when the other wives indicated their concurrence. “And you should not discount the possibilities, which are limited only by your spouse’s ingenuity and derring-do.”
“So I gather.” Elaine swallowed hard, as she considered the logistics. “Just how often do you indulge in marital relations? That is to say, how often can I anticipate Ross will partake of my…hospitality?”
“Every day, particularly at night and in the morning.” Propping elbows to knees, Caroline rested her chin in her palm. “Although Trevor is partial to afternoons, as well.”
“And after the Promenade,” added Daphne.
“Or following his usual exercise in the park.” Cara glanced left and then right. “Upon his return, Lance rides me.”
In unison, the ladies raised their glasses in toast.
“Everett is especially attentive when he returns from White’s, but he always grants me a respite so that I may heal after the birth of our children.” Brie wrinkled her nose. “Dr. Handley recommends six weeks, and it is all my shameless lord and I can do to survive the period of forced abstinence.”
“How dreadful, as I could never stay away from Jason for any length of time,” Alex proclaimed, with unimpaired aplomb, as if imparting a new sewing technique. “While I recover, he sails my back channel, exclusively.”
“Upon my word.” Elaine choked on her champagne, as she could not fathom Ross ever doing that to her. “What a gentleman.”
#
The long case clock in the hall signaled the hour, and Ross stretched his booted feet and gazed into the blaze in the hearth. At that same time tomorrow, he would be married to Elaine, and he wondered if he made a terrible mistake, saddling her with a man who could neither love nor deserve her. Somehow, some way, he would make her happy.
A commotion in the foyer brought him out of his chair, just as the Brethren invaded his study. “What on earth is going on here?”
“We have come to celebrate your last night as a bachelor.” With unveiled determination, Blake marched to Ross and grabbed him by the wrist.
“Thank you, but no, thank you.” Ross attempted to wrench free. “I wish to finish my wine and retire early.”
“Oh, no.” Dirk flanked the other side. “That is probably what the women are doing, after a droll discussion on the latest embroidery technique, given anything more might forever damage their delicate sensibilities. As men, we must drink and wench.”
“But we are married, thus we no longer wench.” Dalton grinned.
“George, and Lucien remain unattached, so they can wench with Ross, given Damian remains in America to guard Lucy,” Everett explained.
“I do not think Elaine, not to mention my wife, will be too pleased with us, if we purchase the services of a whore for the night.” Folding his arms, Lance frowned, as the Brethren dragged Ross into the hallway. “And I am not sleeping in a guest room.”
“Give over.” To the butler’s surprise, Everett opened the door, and the Nautionnier Knights shoved Ross down the entrance stairs and into a waiting coach. “We journey to our usual wedding eve haunt—the Muddy Rudder, to impart sage advice to ensure marital bliss.”
“Have I any say in the matter?” Launched, face first, into the squabs, Ross sat upright and brushed off his coat.
“No,” his soon-to-be relations responded, in unison.
After a carriage ride to the docks, Ross ventured into a dank establishment he would not willingly patronize while heavily armed and on duty for the Corps. Inside, the air reeked of a not so enticing mix of cheap cigars, ale, and perspiration. A collection of rough sea dogs sang a bawdy little ditty, while an equally shaggy fiddler perched in a corner and screeched an accompanying tune.
“This is where you celebrate your impending nuptials?” Ross hesitated, but Blake trudged forth.
“Now, now, do not be critical, as the Rudder has seen us safely through seven weddings, with nary a bump in the road.” Jason claimed a vacant seat.
“Although Dalton suffered a bump on the noggin,” Dirk proclaimed with a wink.
“Very funny.” The younger Randolph rolled his eyes. “Will you never let me live that down?”
“Not a chance.” After plopping on a bench, Everett squawked and slapped his thighs. “You swept the pool with that one.”
“But I am no sailor.” Against his better judgment, Ross sidled to the table. “Are you certain I belong here?”
“Who cares?” Dalton shrugged and flagged a serving wench. “I do not think the owner will check your credentials at the bar.”
Blake chucked Ross’s shoulder and snorted. “A round of ale, on the groom.”
It was a good thing Ross carried his wallet.
“So, we are here to share sage counsel on achieving and sustaining
wedded bliss.” Jason arched a brow. “Trust me, it can be a tricky venture comprised of vast, shark-infested waters.”
“And we are here to ensure you have thought through your options and intend to go through with the ceremony.” George grinned and slapped Lucien on the back.
“And you are experts?” Never had Ross indulged in such fraternal banter, and his spirits lightened.
Blake lowered his chin. “Believe it.”
“First, as there are no virgins at this table, we should commence with a review of the rather prickly affair known as the deflowering,” said Everett, with a scowl. “My Brie leaped from a moving coach in a failed attempt to avoid her fate.”
“I would rather that remained your secret.” Searching his coat pocket, Ross located his handkerchief and wiped his forehead. “Really, you need not do this on my account.”
“We count it our solemn duty, given some of the self-made catastrophes the husbands have endured.” Lance peered at Jason. “Some more than others.”
“I always intended to make Alex my wife, and we were not the only ones who consummated our relationship before we took the vows.” Jason paused, as the server delivered their drinks. “You must be gentle, focus on her needs, and for heaven’s sake, do not rush her.”
“And you must ensure she reaches completion, else you may forever spoil the marriage bed.” Dirk wagged a finger in reproach. “And whatever happens, do not panic her.”
“Of course.” On the thought, Ross almost swooned.
“When it comes to coitus, women are tender souls,” insisted Dalton.
“Even after these five years, my Caroline cannot converse on the topic without blushing.” Trevor chuckled. “And we have done things I would never admit to in public, because my bride loves me, and I love her.”
“Indeed, our ladies would never engage in such a frank examination of these intimate matters.” Blake elbowed Ross. “But if you can make your wife scream, brother, she is but molding clay in your grasp.”
“And if you feel you are unable to contain yourself, grant Elaine a period of adjustment, as it is better to delay than court disaster.” Everett’s guidance struck Ross as sensible, given he knew not if he could make love to her on their wedding night.
“Truer words were never spoken, as Daphne assaulted my brother with a lethal hairbrush on their wedding night.” Dirk compressed his lips, as Dalton groaned.
“Oh, I say, his consummation was a hair-raising experience.” Jason guffawed.
“Or hair-splitting.” Holding his belly, Trevor burst into laughter.
“And she had him by a hairsbreadth.” Lance surrendered to unhinged mirth.
“Must you toe that mark?” Dalton grimaced and stared at Ross. “Whatever you do, if you muck it up, do not tell this motely crew, as there is nothing sacred in this crowd.”
“Yes, given you rushed Daphne, which terrified her to the extent the poor thing responded as a caged animal, and you spent your honeymoon nursing a head injury.” The usually calm Dirk displayed uncharacteristic emotion, as he collapsed against Blake and howled with good humor. “You should have been there. We found him half-naked, bleeding, and passed out on the floor. Do not let that happen to you.”
In that instant, Ross recalled Dirk’s heartrending countenance, when they found Rebecca, after Varringdale attempted to drown her. Those were dark days, and Ross understood Dirk’s attachment. And then Ross studied Blake and remembered the strain in the duke’s demeanor, as they searched for Lenore. When Ross envisioned Elaine in dire straits, he shuddered, and some strange sensation cast a pall over him.
“Gentlemen, I thank you for your assistance, but I will make my own way with Elaine, as we are genuine friends.” With that, Ross took a healthy draft of the bitter brew and wiped his mouth on his coat sleeve.
Just as the group settled, Trevor jerked and toppled his tankard of ale. In a flash, he leaped from the bench and shoved through the crush of people, with Everett in tow, toward the back of the tavern.
“Stay here.” Jason craned his neck. “I will see what is wrong.”
It was then Ross noted Lance’s scrutiny, while Blake, Dirk, and Dalton traded insults. “Whatever it is you wish to say, you may as well have done with it.”
The marquess narrowed his stare. “I know why you compromised Elaine.”
“It was a careless mistake, and I assume full responsibility.”
“Ah, but there was no mistake.” Ross did not want to have that conversation, because he still did not quite understand his motivations that fateful night, but Lance persisted. “And I hold you entirely responsible.”
“All right.” Unerringly calm, Ross set his mug on the table. “If you think you know me, make your case.”
Lance smiled, and it did not bode well. “You want her.”
The assertion, invested with more truth than Ross was willing to consider, inspired a tremor of unease. “I will not deny that I find her appealing.”
“You want her,” Lance replied.
“Perhaps I wish to guard her as only a husband can under the law.” Ross pretended to brush a speck of lint from his coat.
“You are the most decorated spy in the history of the Corps, thus you require no union to protect Elaine.” Lance pinned Ross with a steely gaze. “You want her.”
Despite repeated examinations of his actions in the garden, Ross could not decipher his behavior. “How can you be so certain?”
“Because you admire her whenever you think her unaware, but you did not realize that I watched you.” Lance pointed for emphasis, and Ross gulped. “Do not waste your breath claiming otherwise, because I know you care for her, and that is the only reason I support your marriage.”
Was it possible? Did Lance see something that even Ross could not discern? “So you think me capable of loving Elaine?”
“What a curious question, but I suspect it is better posed in the reverse.” Was it Ross’s imagination, or did Lance relate to the situation, as his query struck a nerve? “Do you believe yourself incapable of loving her?”
“I know not.” And there it was, out in the open. Ross had just laid bare his biggest fear.
“Let me assure you that despite your attempts to evade and deny the obvious, you cannot run from love.” Lance summoned the bar wench and ordered a refill. For a few minutes, he seemed lost in thought, until he smiled. “Love will capture you, often when you least expect it, and you will wonder how you ever existed without the unparalleled connection to your bride.”
Ross could only hope Lance was right, but there were other serious complications of which the nobleman remained unaware. “What if I do not merit such happiness?”
“I understand that perspective, more than you know, so I sympathize.” But Lance’s history could not possibly rival Ross’s. “And I can assure you that love keeps no score, in that respect. Whatever the events of your past, everyone deserves to love and be loved—even you, Ross. Cara taught me that.”
Trevor, Everett, and Jason returned, and Lance saluted.
“I tell you it was Cavalier.” Trevor smacked a fist to a palm. “I would know that bastard anywhere.”
“You do not mean Jean Marc Cavalier?” Ross asked, as he knew the story behind the attack on Trevor’s countess.
“The very one, and it was him.” Lockwood tossed a few pound notes on the table.
“But he is dead.” Blake stood. “It is implausible.”
“So I thought, but the Marine Police never recovered the pirate’s body.” With a wild expression and abrupt movements, Trevor scanned the vicinity. “Perhaps he made a pact with the devil, because he is back.”
“Could it have been someone of similar physical build?” Dirk inquired.
“No.” Trevor shook his head. “It was Cavalier, and I am going home to Caroline.”
Drawing on well-honed instincts, Ross made a mental note to send an agent to speak with Lockwood in the morning, emptied his tankard, and peered at Lance. “It appears the party is
over.”
to catch a fallen spy
chapter nine
Love posited a curious sentiment. Bereft of physical characteristics, it persisted in the realm of invention and fantasy; perhaps enabling the mystical magic to sneak up on its target, given its power knew no bounds. The lucky ones influenced by it’s unmatched potential claimed a rare gift, which was why so many fought for the opportunity to experience the intangible but nonetheless potent emotion. Thus the occasion necessitated courage.
As was the case with those who had gone before her, so many forces in the universe aligned to bring Elaine to that moment, as she stood at the window, stared at the blue sky, and pondered her parents and her brother Thomas. What had once manifested her entire world had long since ceased to exist, and she would give anything to have them join her on her wedding day, but she was not alone. She had Lance and the Brethren.
Yet she perched on the edge of another precipice and prayed that if she miscalculated and stumbled the fall would not destroy her. But if she succeeded, she could live a long-held childhood dream.
“Elaine, it is time.” Lance strolled into her bedchamber.
“I am ready.” She rotated and smoothed the skirts of her gown of powder blue silk trimmed in old gold. “How do I look?”
“Like an angel.” As usual, her cousin splayed his arms, and she walked into his familiar and comforting embrace. Hugging her close, he kissed her forehead. “I cannot believe how fast you have grown into a beautiful young lady, and I am so proud of you. Know that you will always have a place at Raynesford House and Sandgate. We are your family, and we will support you, if you ever need us.”
“Thank you, Lance, but I will be all right.” She glanced about her sparse sanctuary, given most of her belongings had been moved to the house on Farm Street, and revisited treasured recollections.
To Catch A Fallen Spy (Brethren of the Coast Book 8) Page 10