Nobody's Lady

by Annabelle Anders

  With the music, the people, the champagne, the lanterns and shadows everywhere, the festival atmosphere enchanted Lilly. She laughed and danced freely. Her body humming all the while.

  Michael’s fingers brushed along her back often and with a possessiveness he’d not shown so openly before. And as he watched her, a tension built inside him.

  He’d known she was beautiful all along, but tonight…well, there was something different about her. She’d somehow woven a spell around him, his very own Aphrodite. He kept hold of her, jealously, as they were pulled along the throng of merrymakers. Even before she’d had any champagne, her eyes watched him boldly. There’d been a hunger in her gaze, very similar to what he himself felt. He knew she dreaded the short separation awaiting them both tomorrow.

  As did he.

  With youthful exuberance, she threw her head back to watch the fireworks. But she was not so caught up in them as one might believe. For after just a few explosions, she glanced out of the side of her eyes toward him. Her slow smile was a secret invitation that only he could read. In that moment, he knew, with every fiber of his being, that there would never be another woman he would want as badly.

  He would be the man to awaken her deepest passions. He would one day feel her tremble with need for him, skin on skin, and bury himself inside of her. He craved to touch every part of her, knowing she burned for him too.

  Since that first glance, he’d known their connection was special. Tonight, however, brought with it an awareness that the emotions he experienced were much more than a passing attraction.

  He wanted to be the person with whom she shared her soul.

  He loved her. He wanted her love as well. No, he needed her love—desperately.

  With a suddenness that surprised her, he grasped her hand and pulled her away from the crowd onto a nearby path in the woods. She followed him, lifting her skirts so she could keep up with his pace. As the fireworks popped and exploded in the sky, Lilly ran with him brazenly.

  Spying an opening, exactly what he had been looking for, he drew her off the main path and into the darkness. Like a hidden portal, it beckoned them into a conveniently secluded retreat. There was a thick branch, growing sideways, keeping them from disappearing any deeper. Michael maneuvered Lilly so she leaned against the branch. And even though they both breathed heavily from their mad dash, he did not pause to rest.

  Instead, he hungrily sought her kiss.

  He’d waited for this all night—good God—all spring. That’s what this tension had been. Being so near her and not being able to make love to her had tormented him for weeks now.

  Like a flower in full bloom, her lips opened, soft and welcoming. She pressed herself into him, demanding more. Like a vixen, she nipped at his tongue lightly with her teeth.

  Michael had never imagined she could abandon herself to him so utterly, so completely. She clutched at him as though he was a lifeline. Closer, she wanted him closer.

  He’d not resist her demand.

  He didn’t just kiss her. He tasted, he probed, he explored. His tongue discovered the tender skin on the inside of her cheek, the roof of her mouth. His hands were equally inquisitive.

  One of them caressed its way down her naked back and then slipped inside her dress. His other hand reached up to cup her breast and squeeze it gently, testing its weight. So perfect. So soft.

  His mouth drifted down her neck, tasting all her sweetness as he went. Lilly’s head was thrown back. She panted in faint little gasps.

  “More,” Lilly whispered, her hands in his hair. Her words fueled the inferno already blazing inside of him. “More.”

  Michael complied, pulling her short, puffed sleeves down her arms, exposing both of her breasts to the sultry night air. In awe of her, he held himself still, simply gazing at her in the shadowed moonlight.

  And then she licked her lips.

  Putting his hands on her waist, he abruptly lifted her up to sit on the branch. Unable to stop himself, his mouth sought out the puckered tip of one breast. As he suckled, his hands clutched at her dress and petticoats. Understanding, in perfect harmony with his needs, she lifted her legs and wrapped them around him. He wanted to free himself and press into her warmth and dampness. She would be wet. She would be ready for him.

  But she was also shivering.

  She was so sweet. She was a virgin. She would one day be his completely.

  But not tonight.

  “Lilly.” He gasped for breath. “I need to stop.”

  She tightened her legs around his waist. “No!”

  “Lilly,” he said again, burying his forehead under her chin. “Not here. Not now.” He was but a hair’s breadth from coming completely undone.

  As a hint of sanity began to niggle its way back into Lilly’s passion clouded thoughts, she dropped her legs from around his waist.

  They sat quietly, holding each other as their breathing slowed. Michael turned his head and pressed his ear against her chest. The beat of her heart squeezed at his own.

  “I will speak to your father.” He finally found his voice. “When will he arrive in London? If not soon, then I will journey to Plymouth myself.”

  “He should be here when we return from your house party.” There was a smile in her voice. She was everything he ever wanted.

  Remembering he was leaving tomorrow, he pulled her closer once again.

  “I wish I could go with you.” It was as though she read his mind.

  Michael laughed and moaned a little, both at the same time. “I’d have to take you to Gretna Green first, my love.” He then lifted his face to gaze into her golden eyes. “Be patient, Lilly. We have the rest of our lives.”

  She nodded, touching his face. She seemed to marvel at his whiskers. His jaw was roughened slightly as his recent shave had been early that morning. Her eyes were warm and loving.

  “I can’t wait to see your home. I will love it, you know, simply because it is yours.”

  “It’s been a while since I’ve been there.” Michael was uncertain as to how much work awaited him, but he would make the repairs himself, if necessary. He wanted it to be perfect for her.

  Before his resolve left him, Michael pulled Lilly’s dress up to return her to modesty. With his assistance, she hopped off the branch and then attempted to straighten her skirts. He watched her, smiling, as she did her best to tidy up. She had leaves in her hair, and her skirts were twisted tightly around her.

  “Hold still, love,” he said. He plucked the leaves and twigs out of her hair and then tugged at her dress in a few strategic places. “Now, turn around.”

  As she did so, she looked over her shoulder watching him. “You’re rather good at this, you know.” She sounded surprised as he brushed some dirt off the back of her skirt. “Now come here. Let me fix your hair. It’s all mussed up.”

  “Who’s to blame for that?” he teased but did as she asked and then delighted in her touch as she massaged his scalp lovingly.

  He would have her touch every day. Soon.

  Over the past several weeks, they had cultivated this connection, this…relationship. He had never imagined being blessed with a wife whom he could love so thoroughly. He was a lucky man indeed.

  ****

  “When I’ve visited before, I paid more attention to the farming side. I barely looked in the house…God, I hope it’s not in ruins.”

  Danbury chuckled and shook his head. The two men had been friends since they attended Eton. They reminisced for a while as they made their way out of town, and then Hugh sighed loudly.

  “You are going to offer for her, then?” he asked as they rode leisurely heading south.

  Michael looked over at his friend and nodded. “As soon as her father arrives in London.”

  “That’s what I was afraid of. How can you be ready for this? You’ve just returned from war, and already you are taking on a wife. Hell, man, you’ll be setting up your nursery come Christmas.” It was well known that Hugh considered marriage
a necessary evil. Even then, only for gentlemen well into their forties, or fifties…if one could get away with it. “For Christ’s sake, you’re too young for this! I’m too young for this! If you marry, my mother will never let me hear the end of it. Don’t do this to me! Sow some wild oats first, for heaven’s sake.”

  Michael pondered his friend’s words. Danbury’s mother, sister, and aunts had been pressuring Hugh to marry since he’d inherited the title three years ago. He was the last of his line, and the burden to secure it was heavy, indeed. Michael knew Hugh though, and the more they pestered him to marry, the more he would avoid it.

  “It’s not like that for me, Hugh.” He understood his friend’s concerns. “There is no pressure from anybody. In fact, my father and brother couldn’t care less what I do.” At the same time he said this, a part of him anticipated introducing them to Lilly. They would love her. They would realize he was ready to settle down and perhaps, even, worthy of some respect. He hated that he craved their respect.

  “They care,” Danbury contradicted him. “In their own way. You just never see it. Your brother and father are two of a kind. Stoic. Undemonstrative sort of fellows. They think they’re doing right by you, allowing you to live your own life. You’d appreciate them if you had my lot.

  “But that’s not what we’re talking about.” Danbury pressed his point. “We’re talking about Miss Bridge. Marriage. Children. Forever after and all that.”

  “I know.”

  “And?”

  “I know I am young. Good God, she’s only seventeen. But I also know she is the one. I can’t let her go—I won’t let her go.” Michael looked over at Danbury again. “When you’ve met the right lady, you’ll understand.” Then unwilling to continue this line of conversation, he said, “Let’s pick up the pace, man. We’ll never get there at this rate.”

  ****

  “Oh, Miss Bridge.” The lady’s maid gasped as she assisted Lilly out of her nightgown that morning. “You’ve got love bites!”

  “What?” Had Betty said love bites? The memory of Michael’s mouth upon her skin came quickly to mind, and Lilly glanced down in horror.

  “Use the looking glass, Miss Bridge, you’ll see—on your shoulder and…well…lower.”

  Oh, dear Lord. The maid had the right of it. Purplish, reddish marks marred her skin, exactly where Michael’s lips had been. Other areas were reddened from his whiskers. Good heavens, there was even a mark on her breast. “Oh, dear Lord!” This time she spoke the words aloud.

  Half of her was livid with Michael for doing such a thing to her. Had he known? Had he realized what he was doing?

  And then the other half, the wanton half of her, was thrilled. It was as though he had marked her for his own.

  But she then had to face that third half of herself. That half her mother had instilled so thoroughly. These very marks that thrilled her somewhat were also a recipe for ruin! If her mother saw them she would be livid! And her father! Good heavens, if he were to know about any of this, he would likely try to kill Michael. What if he called him out? What if her father and Captain Redmond dueled?

  Nobody must find out! She turned to the maid.

  “Betty, are they permanent? Can we make them go away?”

  “Nay, not permanent, but they do last about a week.” The maid surveyed Lilly’s skin closely. “We’ll conceal them with a high neckline and long sleeves today. As they fade, perhaps we can cover them with face paint.” Looking out the window, she sighed. “’Twould be more comfortable if the weather weren’t so warm, Miss Bridge.”

  “It doesn’t matter, Betty. No one—and I mean not a single living soul—must ever see these…these…oh my God, I don’t even know what to call them. You are certain they are not permanent?” She implored the maid for reassurance.

  Betty laughed. “Yes. They will disappear. More of a nuisance for now, miss.”

  Lilly slipped into her chemise and then dropped onto the bench in front of the mirror. She then sat anxiously while Betty lifted Lilly’s hair to examine the extent of Michael’s handiwork. “Let me find a dress to cover this up. Not to worry, dearie. Nobody will be the wiser as to what your scoundrel has been up to.”

  Lilly assessed herself in the mirror and then reached for a cloth that had been soaking in cool lavender water. Dabbing at the tender skin, she was amazed at Michael’s audacity. As she touched each mark with the cool rag, she recalled the sensations he’d aroused with his lips and hands and whiskers. A flush swept through her body, reddening her face and neck even further, as she relived a few of those moments.

  Lilly held the cloth up to her face and inhaled deeply.

  Before coming to London, she had dreamed of finding some fantasy man who would save her from marrying Lord Beauchamp. Such a man had been hazy, heroic, handsome, and unreal. Nothing could have prepared her for the emotions that had flared up between Michael and herself.

  He was so much more than a fantasy.

  He had lived an entire life without her. He was dashing, rakish, and wanted by many other women. She had seen the jealous looks sent her way. Debutantes and even some older women glared at her with envy.

  And he was hers.

  Better than a dream come true, for she couldn’t have dreamt up a man as honorable and complex as Captain Redmond.

  Mrs. Redmond…Mrs. Captain Michael Redmond. And then she wondered. Was the wife of the second son of a duke a lady? She should know such things.

  Lord and Lady Michael…ah yes, she loved the sound of that. If Michael was a lord, surely she would be a lady. Was he a lord?

  Caught up in her daydreams, Lilly donned the high-necked dress Betty had chosen but was drawn back into the present when she saw her reflection once again.

  She looked ridiculous! Why, it was nearly June!

  Nobody would be so buttoned up in June…except perhaps her matronly aunt…and her mother. Good Lord, her friends would think she’d gone batty!

  Betty twisted Lilly’s hair into a tight chignon and laughed. “Don’t mind my saying so, but Miss Bridge, you hardly have any pins left for me to do your hair with.” Lilly just smiled at Betty in the mirror.

  “I guess I’ll have to go shopping then.” With that, she smirked and bounded out of the room to find some breakfast.

  She was ravenous.

  Chapter Eight

  Close Quarters

  1824

  Even with eyes closed, Lilly felt Michael’s gaze upon her. Of course, he would have guessed she wasn’t sleeping. She focused upon remaining still, likely too still, when his boots grazed her ankles as he stretched his long legs.

  His touch, even accidental, would always affect her. She nearly moaned at the thought.

  Instead, she tucked her feet farther beneath the seat.

  Michael’s followed.

  Unable to help herself, she opened her eyes and caught him watching her.

  His eyes smiled; they laughed even.

  Glenda had finally fallen quiet, focusing all of her attention onto her embroidery circle. And Mary, snoring softly, truly was asleep. As she’d slouched deeper into the elegantly upholstered bench, she not only took up her own half, but some of Michael’s—His Grace’s—half as well. Meanwhile, his boots, hidden under Lilly’s skirt, held her feet captive beneath the seat. How many times had they played games like this during their courtship?

  And what in blue blazes did he think he was doing anyway?

  He was betrothed!

  What kind of a woman did he think she was? Lilly glared at him.

  He tapped the side of her ankle with one of his boots. Oh, this was too annoying!

  Lilly wanted to throw something at him, but Miss Fussy slept soundly upon her lap. Since she couldn’t reach down and grab a book to launch in his direction, she would have to use her wits.

  “Glenda, what type of stitch are you working on today? You ought to show the duke some of your designs.” Lilly spoke innocently. “You have your basket of samplers with you, don’t you?”
Of course, Glenda had her samplers…she never went anywhere without them.

  “Oh my, yes, Your Grace. How rude of me to work on this while you have no such distraction for yourself! I will make it my personal obligation to keep you entertained all morning.”

  Glenda lifted out a basket bursting with various colors of fabric, each embroidered with flowers, butterflies, kittens, ducks, etc. “Now this one I did when I first turned twelve.” She leaned forward and handed the sampler to the duke.

  Michael was forced to sit up and take the piece of fabric. This required him to remove his boots from Lilly’s feet. The chuckle she couldn’t keep from escaping drew a frown from him.

  Glenda continued, “When I first learned embroidery, I worked on perfecting my cross stitches. See how the thread crosses over itself. It is quite a beginner stitch really. Although it can become rather complex when one does a cross, over an X. Do you see the corners, Your Grace?”

  Michael, not one to abandon his manners, graciously studied the wispy, yet colorful material, with something of a grimace on his face. “These?” he asked politely, pointing at the border.

  “Oh, yes. Those are the more complex version of the cross stitch. It is known as a Smyrna cross stitch, but Lilly just calls it the double cross stitch, don’t you, Lilly?”

  “Yes, Lilly,” Cortland said sarcastically, “have you perfected the—what is it called? The Smyrna cross stitch?” Lilly had not favored embroidery as a debutante. Did he remember?

  Lilly had no intention of participating in this conversation. “I have never in the past perfected, nor do I plan in the future to perfect the Smyrna stitch, or any other stitch for that matter. But do go on, Glenda. Show the duke your next sampler.” At which point, Lilly closed her eyes and commenced feigning sleep once again.

  Feeling victorious, she wiggled her toes and stretched her legs into the space separating the two benches. Michael’s feet were planted firmly upon the floor.