“Good.” Blythe closed her eyes.
Her breathing grew deeper. Vanessa crossed quietly to the door, and the child was asleep before she opened it.
“God Bless,” she murmured. Hurrying down the passage, she fingered the butterfly brooch on her dress, hoping she would be able to keep her promise. She would never leave Blythe voluntarily.
She opened the door to her new bedroom next door to Julian’s. She had yet to see it. The empty room was softly lit by a pair of bedside lamps. With gold and cream striped walls, it was elegant and airy, the tester bed covered in a burgundy silk coverlet. Vanessa traced a finger over the patterned silk. She and Julian… Averting her eyes, she spun away, her shoes sinking into the dense gold-toned carpet. Silk damask curtains edged with gold fringe dressed the tall windows. A pair of ruby velvet-covered chairs were drawn up in conversational mode before the fireplace where a coal fire crackled and glowed. Her few possessions had been brought down from the attic bedroom. Her mother’s likeness sat on the dresser, and her books had been stacked on a table.
Julian’s midnight blue paisley silk robe lay over a chair. She picked it up and held it to her nose. Sandalwood. She remembered his kiss at the wedding ceremony, and her stomach clenched. His lips had been cool and impersonal, and he’d hardly touched her since. It was to be expected she supposed. They weren’t in love. Although she would welcome some sign of passion. Her nightgown and matching peignoir were arrayed on the coverlet, white lawn with pink satin ribbon threaded through the lace. Someone knocked at the door. “Come in.” She held the gown against her chest as if she was naked.
Mary entered. “Do you require assistance to undress or with your hair, my lady?”
Vanessa had got this far in life without assistance. She didn’t think she would need it now. “No, thank you, Mary,” she told her new maid. “You may go to bed.”
The door closed again.
“My lady,” Vanessa said softly to herself. How strange that sounded. She would have to get used to Mary helping her dress. The maid had looked disappointed not to have helped prepared her for her wedding night. Learning to become a viscountess suddenly loomed large. An enormous undertaking. She opened the bathroom door. In the mirror, her eyes looked enormous her face pale. She was used to her face and no judge if it was attractive. She pulled out the pins and brushed her long hair. It couldn’t be called red, or blonde for that matter, but somewhere in between. Not particularly fashionable, and her green eyes weren’t emerald like Clara’s. The less said about her turned up nose the better. She liked her mouth though, it was generous and full-lipped, she only hoped her new husband would.
When she came out wearing her nightgown, he was waiting. He’d removed his cravat and coat and sat in a chair in his shirtsleeves. “Ah. Here you are.” He stood and held out his hands.
Vanessa nervously crossed the room to him.
He took her hands and his gaze drifted over her. “How pretty you look with your lovely hair down past your shoulders.”
Did he mean it? Or was he merely flattering her?
He led her over to the bed and drew her down beside him. He raised her chin with a finger and gazed into her eyes. “I hope you will be content and secure here in my absence.”
Vanessa stared into the blue depths, searching for warmth and reassurance. She dragged in a breath. “I’m sure I will…” Her breasts heaved beneath the thin lawn.
“I won’t leave you carrying my child. I promise not to do that to you.”
“You sound as if you have doubts that you’ll return.” Forgetting her own concerns, she searched his troubled face. Might that be what lay behind this? The thought struck cold fear in her.
He stood to unbutton his shirt. “It’s a dangerous undertaking. Every venture into the Amazon carries risk.”
She had to accept it and was determined not to utter one word of complaint. She suddenly wanted to put her arms around him, to soothe him and allow him to go with a clear mind, at least about those he left behind. But he seemed so independent, she wasn’t confident he’d welcome it. “We shall be all right. You mustn’t worry.”
“Thank you for that.” He shrugged off his braces and shirt and began to undo his trousers.
She was caught by the smattering of dark hair on his broad chest. His trousers went the way of his shirt, and he stood in his underwear.
She’d never seen a man in his underwear before, let alone Julian. The scrap of silk hinted at what lay beneath. Her gaze fluttered up to meet his. “I shan’t bite, Vanessa.” He looked faintly amused as he bent his head to continue undressing.
She’d been holding her breath. “I’ll hop into bed, shall I?” she said in a slightly strangled tone.
He turned from removing his garters to look at her. A grin lightened his face. Vanessa was glad to see it. She gave a tremulous grin in response. Humor was needed for her to get through this. She threw back the covers and climbed into the bed; lying down, she squeezed her eyes shut.
The bed moved.
His breath fanned her cheek. “What are you doing?”
She looked at him. His face was very close to hers. Laughter lurked in his eyes. “Nothing. Waiting… for you.”
Julian eased away the blankets she’d pulled up under her chin. His gazed roamed from her high-necked nightgown to her toes, which curled in nervous anticipation.
His eyebrows rose. “Whatever is the matter? I’m not going to hurt you.”
“It’s just that Lady Forster said this is something to be endured,” Vanessa confessed.
He gave a soft laugh. “Poor Lady Forster.”
He began to draw up the hem of her nightgown. “What pretty legs.” When it reached her knees, she grabbed a fistful of lawn, holding it there. She felt as if a rod of iron had adhered to her spine.
“Vanessa, will you relax?”
“I’m trying to, really.”
He gave her a long look then shook his head. “What kind of fellow am I to put you through this?”
Had he changed his mind? She was surprised to find the thought didn’t bring relief.
Julian lay down beside her. “Come here.” He slid an arm under her shoulders and drew her against him. “Let’s talk for a while, shall we?” Relieved, Vanessa laid a cautious head on his arm. “Tell me about your childhood.”
Memories returned of wet sand scouring her bare feet, the shock of cold wavelets tugging at her ankles, and the sun warm on her back. Her limbs sank into the soft bed as she described her years in Cornwall. Her father came vividly to mind, standing at his easel, paintbrush in hand while she sketched beside him. And her mother, pacing the parlor carpet with a speech in her hand and a pencil tucked into her bun. As always, she shut out the later, painful memories.
“Your father didn’t get on with his family?”
“No.” She’d grown used to the knowledge Julian had gained of her family. It didn’t bother her; in fact, in some way, it drew her closer to him and Blythe and made her feel part of a new family. The thought warmed her. “My uncle came to see me after Father died,” she confessed. “He invited me to live with him.”
Julian’s eyes widened. Well, he didn’t know that, she thought smugly, yearning to touch the cleft in his chin.
“You refused?”
“Yes.” She flushed at the incredulity in his voice. Did he think her foolish? How could she explain how her formal and stiff uncle made her feel? So obviously holding out a reluctant helping hand to a poor relation. When she declined his offer, had she spied some measure of relief in his eyes, which were so like her father’s? She had never considered herself inferior to anyone until that day.
Julian settled her closer, causing her to hope that perhaps he did understand. Vanessa liked his smell, musky male, blended with woody cologne. She wanted to rest her cheek on his chest to breathe it in. The thought made her smile and stretch out comfortably beside him.
Her movement stirred him. He leaned over, and his mouth grazed her earlobe. He settled above her and cradling her
face in his hands, kissed her. A gentle, friendly kiss she welcomed. She expected him to draw away, but the kiss lengthened. He shocked her by plunging his tongue into her mouth. As he explored the cavern of her mouth, her whole body came alive with a strange urgency. She sank back into the mattress.
He raised himself up to look at her, his eyes darkening to indigo. “Let’s undo this straight jacket, shall we?” he said, his tone husky.
“I thought it was beautiful,” she protested half-heartedly.
“You may wear it when I’m gone.” He deftly undid the buttons and slipped a hand inside to stroke her breast. He rolled a nipple gently between his fingers, unleashing a delicious sensation. When he began to remove her nightgown, Vanessa stilled his hand. “Perhaps you could turn down the lamp.”
He smiled, but his eyes looked determined. “I want to see you.”
Before she could protest again, her nightgown was slipped over her head. Without removing his gaze from her body, he tossed the garment on the floor.
She lay naked before him, flushing, wanting to pull up the covers which were out of reach. “You are perfectly lovely, Vanessa.” He sounded as if he’d been handed an unexpected present.
Julian’s obvious pleasure in her made her bolder. He showered kisses on her lips and along her jaw as their breaths quickened. Shaping a breast in his hands, he took a nipple in his mouth. She sighed. Her nipples firmed beneath his ministrations and warmth rushed over her skin. He kneaded her breasts gently. In his hands, they grew strangely heavy. She sighed with delight at the wonderful sensations, stroking his dark hair at his nape.
Their rasping breaths filled the room. He pushed away from her to remove the rest of his clothes, and she gasped at the intent in his gaze. As she watched him strip off his underwear, her stomach tightened, and she was captured by the sight of such a fine example of a naked male.
Julian must need to keep himself in shape for his work, she thought distractedly, eyeing strong buttocks and thighs, she hadn’t expected to find in a tall, slim man. He returned to the bed, well-defined muscles playing beneath smooth skin. She held her breath, gazing at his maleness, so potent and intoxicating. Just the sight of his erection made her hot and moist to the core.
His fingers stroked up her leg and tangled in the curls at the apex of her thighs. Startled, she almost sat up. As he caressed her there she was filled with a strange hunger. She pushed against him, a moan escaping her lips and surrendered to the sensations.
As he stroked her, his tongue caressing hers, she began to tremble on the brink of something elusive.
Julian drew away from her and parted her legs with a knee, settling between her thighs.
His heavy-lidded gaze sought hers. “I’ll be gentle.” His voice sounded strange, deeper, his intensity thrilling.
Vanessa took a quick breath as he pushed into her, causing a brief flash of pain. She tensed. “Relax, Vanessa,” he whispered.
Their breaths mingled as his mouth covered hers; his hand at the nape of her neck under her hair pulled her into a deep kiss. She hardly noticed when he slipped a little farther inside her until the tightness became uncomfortable and she tried instinctively to wriggle away. He would have none of it; he cupped her bottom and pushed.
She was distracted by his mouth, teasing and nibbling, and his smooth skin beneath her fingers. He nudged deeper inside her. The pain vanished to be replaced by something extraordinary. A primitive need somehow satisfied. As if she’d been craving it all her life. She raised her hips to move with him, enjoying the weight of his body on hers, and having him deep inside her. It was natural and right to be joined with him in this fascinating dance. Julian moved faster, and they were both gasping, coming together hip-to-hip, grasping, urgent. Her hands were in his hair then dancing across his back, seizing his strong buttocks, and relishing the power of muscles moving beneath satiny skin. She murmured his name, one minute wanting to fight the desire building within her, the next begging him to sweep her along.
When he withdrew from her to spend, she wanted to cry. She throbbed with an odd unfulfilled need.
He leaned over her. “Was that so terrible?”
“No.”
“But not wonderful. Not yet.”
“I liked it. I did really.”
He traced her swollen bottom lip with a finger. “You liked it? I want you to love it. To cry out from the pleasure of it.”
“You do?”
“Mmm.” His gentle fingers stoked the fire still smoldering between her legs like a deep ache. He pressed soft kisses against the pulse at the base of her throat and down over her stomach, making her giggle, then lower, as she seized handfuls of his hair, writhing, embarrassed. When his tongue stroked within her intimate folds an explosion of feeling raced through her. He continued drawing her to some place she knew not. She gripped his shoulders, her nails raking his back, losing herself completely in the sensation.
Embarrassment cast aside, she searched for some sense of completion that hovered tantalizingly out of reach. And then with a cry, she understood just what she had been seeking. Her body clenched as waves of pleasure took her. Julian slipped a finger inside her, and the pleasure intensified, making her call out incoherently. It eased away leaving her floating.
He moved to lie beside her.
“My goodness.” She fell limply back against the pillow.
He propped his head on a hand. “You liked it?”
“I loved it.”
He smiled. “It will get better.”
She gave a long sigh. “Better than that?”
He stroked her hair away from her face and kissed her lightly. “You’ve had a big day, my sweet. Sleep now.”
She stretched luxuriously, incapable of worrying about anything now. Endure? How wrong Lady Forster had been. Every fiber of her being felt drugged. Her eyelids seemed weighted down, and she had to close them.
“I will for a little,” she murmured.
Chapter Eleven
Vanessa awoke at the knock on the door. She had slept so deeply she hadn’t noticed when Julian left the room.
Mary entered.
“What time is it?” Vanessa asked, yawning behind a hand.
“Nine o’clock, my lady.” The maid placed a tray on a table by the bed. “His lordship told me to bring you some breakfast.” She opened the curtains and sunlight brightened the gold carpet.
How could she have slept so heavily and so late? Her face heated as she recalled their lovemaking. A worrying thought tugged at her. Had Julian enjoyed it as much as she did?
He seemed very much in control of his emotions. Vanessa held the sheet against her naked body as she sat up. “Thank you, Mary. Pass me my gown, will you?”
She was ravenous! Pouring herself a cup of tea she added milk and sugar. Then buttered a piece of toast. She smoothed on a layer of marmalade and took a bite, relishing the bitter orange flavor. How decadent to be eating in bed and at this hour! Where was Julian?
Vanessa didn’t want to ask the maid, so she ate quickly then headed to the bathroom where Mary had run her a bath. Bathing refreshed her and soothed her tender nether regions.
When she came out of the bathroom, the upstairs maid was stripping the sheets from the bed. She bobbed. “Oh, I’m sorry, my lady. I did knock. I thought the room was empty.”
Vanessa flushed as the evidence of her and Julian’s night together went its way to the laundry maid. “Never mind, Agnes. Please carry on.” She sat in front of the mirror to brush her hair.
Impossible to keep such things from the servants. She must not mind, she told herself sternly. Mary returned with an ironed blouse.
Vanessa couldn’t bear it any longer. She drove a pin into her scalp in her impatience. “Mary, do you know if his lordship has left yet for the city?”
“I believe he’s gone riding, my lady.”
“With Miss Blythe?”
“Yes, my lady.”
She should have gone with them. They would think her a pitiful thing
sleeping half the day. “How long ago did they leave?”
“I saw them go out on my way to you.”
Vanessa began to unbutton her dressing gown. “Please help me with my riding things.”
Mary hurried to the wardrobe and took out Vanessa’s sad, pea-green skirt. She hadn’t thought to replace it. Vexed, she decided it would have to do.
A short time later, Vanessa hurried along the path past the tennis court. At least, this time she knew the route the riders would take. It would be a welcome surprise for Blythe, and, she hoped, Julian.
In the stables, Jim was polishing a saddle. There was no sign of Lovel, for which she was grateful. “Good morning, Jim, could you saddle Flora for me?”
He performed the task efficiently, and within minutes, Vanessa was riding Flora along the bridle path. Choosing the trail that led to the meadow, she urged the horse to take the left fork. Remarkably, Flora obeyed her with a little firm coaxing. There was no sign of the riders, but fresh horse dung showed they had ridden this way. The narrow track widened, and the shrubbery peeled away to reveal a wide meadow covered in cowslips. At her coaxing, Flora cantered over the soft, uneven ground. Vanessa raised her head from watching for rabbit holes and spied a group of riders in the distance.
Embracing the chance to show Julian she was improving, she leaned over Flora’s neck, urging the horse on. The uneven ground proved a bumpy ride. Vanessa slid uncomfortably about on the sidesaddle as the ground flew dizzily past. Flora stumbled over a hillock, sending a stab of unease into Vanessa’s chest. She no longer felt in control. Wishing to present herself well in front of such skillful riders, she attempted to slow the horse. Flora misinterpreted Vanessa’s instruction, barely slowing before she stopped dead. Vanessa fought to keep her balance and failed. She slid, rather than fell, onto her bottom on the muddy ground, just as the others reached her.
Julian and Blythe were not alone. Miss Patterson, in her superbly cut green habit, with sweeping feathers gracing her hat, accompanied them.
“Nessa!” Blythe cried, pulling her mount up.
Julian dismounted and ran to Vanessa as she struggled to gain her footing on the boggy ground. She was conscious that her bottom was covered in a large patch of damp. It seeped through, chilling her to the bone. He grabbed her arm in a steely grip. “Are you, all right?”
The Mystery at Falconbridge Hall Page 11