Riona went over to his side and put her arm around his neck, so that Lucien pulled her to him and began to weep bitterly against her slender waist.
Sitting on his lap, she cradled his head gently against her bosom, and allowed Lucien to give full rein to his grief.
At last, when his sobs began to subside, Lucien patted Riona on the knee, and sniffed, "I’m all right now, really. You go off and get some sleep, Riona. I have to go see the undertaker now, and make arrangements for the wake and funeral."
"Do you want me to do anything?" she asked as she stroked his unruly hair away from his forehead and stood up.
"I would appreciate it if you would consult with the cook downstairs, Mrs. Weaver, about food, but apart from that, no. Just go to bed. I'll see you later," Lucien said quietly as he strode from the room, leaving her feeling more alone than she ever had in her life.
And more confused. What on earth had Oliver meant before he died?
Chapter Twenty-five
The next two days and nights seemed interminable to Riona, for Lucien drove himself like a man possessed, making sure every detail was just perfect.
She could see he blamed himself bitterly for not having seen his uncle more often in his later years, and was more than trying to atone for it now.
Riona sought to reassure him with hugs, caresses, and kisses when they were alone with each other. Lucien did not rebuff her, but gratefully clung onto her like a drowning man.
The funeral was small and quiet. Riona was relieved to see that Antoinette did not take the trouble to come all the way out to Wicklow to pay her respects. She would no doubt have looked down her nose at everyone and everything there.
There were a few neighbours, but the gathering was small, the refreshments modest, and the guests soon departed.
"He was always a very private man." Quentin smiled sadly as he watched the last of the carriages disappear down the drive.
"Aye that he was," Lucien sighed, as he poured himself another brandy from the decanter on the sideboard, and offered his brother one.
"Still, it was good to see one or two of his old army friends taking the trouble to come all the way out here."
"Uncle Oliver was in the army?" asked Riona suddenly, her curiosity piqued.
"Yes, years ago," Lucien confirmed. "He wanted to make his fame and fortune, but the life didn’t suit him, and after my grandfather died, he came home to live with us here."
They sat sipping their drinks for a time in silence, until at last the younger of the two brothers rose from his seat.
"Well, are you ready to head back to town? We could all travel together in my coach, with yours following on behind," Quentin offered.
But Lucien shook his head.
"No, no, I think I’ll stay here for a few days, just to sort some things out as long as I'm here, and close up the house. But you can take Riona into town with you, if you don’t mind," Lucien suggested, looking at Riona inscrutably for a brief moment.
She shook her head at once. "But you might need me here," Riona protested. "I’ve taken care of everything at the clinic, the duty lists and so on, for the next two weeks, so I don’t have to be back for a while if you wish me to stay and help with the closing of the house."
Lucien nodded wordlessly. He offered his hand for his brother to shake. "We’ll both stay then, Quentin. I’ll talk to you soon."
Quentin looked at both of them speculatively for a few moments, feeling once again that terrible surge of envy, and left without another word.
Once his brother had departed, Lucien poured himself another brandy and sat on the old horsehair sofa, patting the cushion beside him for Riona to join him.
She joined him silently, and once they had relaxed into their seats, he took her hand and admitted, "I’m glad you’re staying. You’ve already been such a big help. It's selfish of me to keep you here, with the clinic and everything, I know, but I’m glad you’re here."
"I’m always here if you need me, you know that," Riona replied, squeezing his fingers gently.
"Yes, I do know that, Riona. I just think I’m a brute for taking advantage of you, that’s all."
"I don’t feel you're taking advantage of me," Riona said quietly. "We're friends, are we not? Friends support each other in their hour of need."
Lucien looked directly into her sapphire blue eyes then, and confessed, "In that case, friend, it’s getting late. I haven’t slept for two days, nor have you. And I freely confess, Riona, I need you. I need you now, so much."
Riona looked at him for a few moments silently. She knew what he was asking, and was both pleased, and nervous.
He was telling her what he wanted, but offering her a chance to say no. It would have been easy enough for him to sweep her off her feet, yet he respected her enough to offer her the right of refusal
She hadn't the heart to accept that offer. And the plain truth was, she didn't wish to. She wanted him, so very much.
She met his gaze head on and said softly, "In that case, let’s go up to bed."
They blew out all the lamps, told the servants to leave the cleaning up until the morning, and mounted the stairs side by side. He gripped her hand, linking their fingers, and the wonderful thrill she always felt at his touch sparked anew.
Once in the small bedroom, Lucien stoked the fire while Riona undressed, daringly removing every item of clothing, which she draped neatly on the back of a chair, before slipping under the covers.
Lucien came over and sat on the edge of the bed, and Riona helped him undo his waistcoat, stock and shirt, and then blew out the lamp.
Bathed with the light from the glowing fire, she held Lucien close as he shed a few tears for his beloved uncle.
When he had finished crying, she laid him on his back and kissed his tears away, until suddenly her comforting became something more, and she made love to him so gently he almost believed he was dreaming.
Unwittingly, Lucien said the words aloud.
"This is no dream," she said, moving her hips rhythmically above him. "I’m real."
"Stay with me, don’t leave me, Riona," Lucien gasped, pulling her tightly to him as all of his pent-up emotions burst forth in a blazing inferno almost painful in its intensity.
"I’ll never leave you, Lucien," Riona whispered as he drifted off to sleep with his arms locked tightly around her. "Never, as long as you need me."
Draped as she was on top of him, he cupped her to his body with both hands like a miser hoarding treasure, as though he would never let her go, and slept at last, a deep, dreamless sleep, the sensation of her embrace like a warm blanket enfolding him.
The next day they rose in a almost leisurely manner compared to their hectic schedule back in Dublin. This time, Lucien made love to Riona, availing himself of her complete nudity to savor her lush perfection in the sunshine that streamed in the window they had neglected to shutter the evening before.
By rights she knew she ought to have felt shy to be seen thus, but from the moment she and Lucien had met, it had all seemed so perfect. As if it were meant to be….
What was it Uncle Oliver had said…
But as Lucien's caresses tipped her over the brink into pure bliss, all rational thought few out of her mind.
Later that morning, she heard Lucien call, "Riona could you stop what you’re doing and come help me up in the attic for a moment?"
Riona got up from the desk where she had been writing thank you letters on heavy black-edged mourning stationery, and followed the sound of his voice.
"Careful, the stairs are a bit rickety," he warned, meeting her part way and guiding her with one hand around her waist.
"All my mother’s and sister’s things as well as my uncle’s and father’s are up here. I was wondering if you would help me sort through some of the things. We can see if anything might be worth giving to the poor or selling at the fete."
"It’s a kind thought," Riona remarked quietly. "Of course I’ll help."
She began op
ening trunks of dresses, and saw that all of the things were a bit dusty. A fusty smell clung to some of the items from having lain in the trunks for so long, but most of them were perfectly serviceable.
The men’s clothes were good, not too out of date, and there were certainly plenty of them.
Then Riona found an old sketch book.
"Did you draw as a child, Lucien?" Riona asked conversationally as she worked.
"Yes I did whenever I got the chance, but that was Uncle OIiver’s. As a young man he travelled all around Ireland, sketching castles and landscapes and so on. I was always good at portraits of the family, and of course animals, but I was never as good as I wished because my father rarely ever let me draw."
Riona continued to flip through the pictures as Lucien spoke, more absorbed in the tale Lucien was telling than in the landscapes, though they looked vaguely familiar to her the more she went on.
Suddenly Riona’s mouth went dry, and her heart began to hammer in her chest.
She stared at the portrait, and the name and date underneath.
Just then Lucien looked over at her, and she snapped the portfolio shut, feeling almost guilty, a hot blush flooding her cheeks.
"Just a load of rubbish, is it?" he said with a tight smile.
"On the contrary, they’re very good," Riona muttered hastily, putting the sketch books safely off to one side, to examine them more closely later on. It couldn't be, could it?
"Anything worth selling?"
She shook her head. "You should keep them as a family heirloom. But these other things in this trunk can all get sold at the fete, while the things in these piles here, we can give away to the poor right now."
Lucien saw her she seemed upset by something, and put his arm around her. "I’m sorry, Riona, all of this must be making you feel gloomy."
"Not at all," Riona denied quickly. "Perhaps a bit sad thinking about my own family, wondering where my father is, that’s all." She shrugged. "I wish I had heard something back from him by now, and we've been so busy, I've been remiss. I really should send another letter to Dunfanaghy soon."
"Time enough for your duties when we return to the capital," he said, sounding almost weary. "In the meantime—"
He drew her into his arms for a kiss, and then drew back, stroking her cheek.
"Mmm, nice, but don't you think the bed downstairs would serve a bit better?" she asked softly, cradling her head against his lapel.
"Aye, that it would, but that's not the reason I brought you up here, my dear."
She blushed again.
He reached to open a trunk he had been standing in front of almost the whole time while she had been rummaging through the items.
"Here's something which ought to cheer you up. I thought of it when the costume ball was first mentioned. We always had a sort of dress up trunk for parties, and there's a gown in here which belonged to my mother, and her mother before her, which would be perfect for you," Lucien informed her as he fished through the box.
He first pulled out several pairs of thigh-high boots, and a velvet doublet, hose and trunk hose, as well as a sword.
"I found my costume too," he said holding, them up for her perusal. "But this is what I had in mind for you."
He lifted the gown, and Riona gasped. Though crumpled, it could only be described as exquisite. It was mid-eighteenth century, with a huge billowing skirt, and a low cut bosom with a thin strip of lace around it, in an unusual shade of blue.
"I think it matches your eyes, Riona," Lucien remarked, holding it up to her. "There should be a hat here as well, and some shoes."
"Thank you for thinking of me. It’s wonderful," Riona breathed as she held it up to herself.
"The ribbon is a bit old, frayed and faded, but it is easy enough to replace it."
"It looks like a gown from one of the portraits downstairs," Riona observed.
"Yes, I believe this is a copy of what belonged to one of our ancestors. Will you wear it?"
"I will indeed. Thank you." Riona smiled shyly.
Lucien pecked her on the cheek by way of reply, and then handed her the other items he had fished out of the chest.
"Right you take those things down with you, and I’ll make a start on the trunks," Lucien instructed.
"I’ll go get the servants to help you. Don’t strain yourself, and watch the stairs. You said yourself they're a bit rickety."
Riona began to descend to the lower floor, pausing only to put the things in her room. She was just about to pull the bell to summon a servant when she heard a crash.
A moment later, Lucien came slithering down the stairs outside her door.
"Lucien! Lucien, are you all right?"
"The only thing bruised is my dignity." He grinned ruefully, grimacing as he rubbed his posterior, and began to try to rise.
"Careful, you might have turned your ankle. Are you in pain?" Riona asked worriedly, her sapphire eyes locking with his golden ones.
"In agony," he murmured, before suddenly taking her lips in a smouldering kiss. Then he rose up, scooped her into his arms, and headed for his own bedroom.
Lucien kicked the door shut behind him, and plopped her down gently on the bed, before starting to strip his clothes off.
"It’s the middle of the day," Riona whispered, a trifle shocked as he began to unfasten his trousers and she saw him standing over her, his masculine glory fully revealed by the sunlight streaming through the window.
"It’s the dress. I can’t help myself," he whispered as he planted kisses all over her face and throat, and began stripping off the garments underneath her skirt.
"Which? This one," she asked, fingering the flowered calico, "or the blue one you just gave me for the costume ball?"
"Both, my dear. You're the most alluring creature, no matter what you wear," Lucien teased as he stripped her stockings down her legs in a single long caress, and took her with a fierce eagerness that shattered any reserve she might have felt over making love with him in broad daylight in earshot of the servants.
In fact, watching his passion-etched features as he reveled in her body only added to her arousal as she opened to him, heart and soul. They rode the waves of his tempestuous passion, until the storm at last gentled to the rippling eddy of tender satisfaction once more.
Riona smiled to herself as she lay there in his arms drowsing. They might well cause a few tongues to wag once their relationship was made known, but she had no doubt that they were well on the road to a happy married life together. His having her here at one of their family homes, Quentin being so welcoming, him giving her his mother's gown, it was all so perfect.
Many couples made do with a great deal less than they shared, but Riona was never one for half-measures. She had no illusion that she would ever be welcomed by Antoinette. But whatever barbs she might have to suffer would surely be as nothing compared to the glorious life she and Lucien would share, in bed and out.
She just hoped Lucien would stop being so hide-bound and rigidly moralistic, and see it all for himself soon too.
Chapter Twenty-six
Much later, after their tempestuous lovemaking, Lucien tried on his Renaissance costume for Riona, striding up and down with a most arousing swagger.
"What do you think?" he asked, as he paused to pose in front of her with one hand on his sword hilt.
"I think with your physique, Lucien, which is plain for all to see in those hose, you might shock every woman in the place. And the cod piece certainly doesn’t exaggerate your attributes," she proclaimed with a giggle.
Lucien laughed self-consciously. "I think we’ll go for the King Charles idea, then. I wouldn’t want to spoil the party."
She fluttered her eyelashes. "You might just make it in that Renaissance outfit, my dear."
He laughed heartily, and gave her a smacking kiss.
"What do you think of the dress?" she asked, twirling for him to show it off.
"It’s a bit big around the waist, and that bosom is defi
nitely going to need to be covered over with a shawl lest every single bachelor in the place trail after you all night.
"But with a new ribbon, tied tightly, it should be perfect, and that hat is divine. In fact. you're absolutely ravishing, my girl. Come give me a kiss," he coaxed, opening his arms wide.
When Riona finally managed to tug her lips away, she asked, "Are you sure you don’t mean ravished?" as his long fingers began divesting her of the gown with unmistakable intent.
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