Beloved

by Stella Cameron

  “Tonight, if that will please you.”

  She could not mean what he thought she meant. “Would you care to explain that to me?”

  “May I come to you?”

  She meant exactly what he’d surmised.

  “May I?”

  “I hardly think—”

  “I do. You say there are things I don’t know about you. I wish to learn. At once. Rose sleeps too far away to know if I leave my rooms. As you see, Max is involved in who-knows-what, but elsewhere. Why should I not be with you tonight?”

  She took his breath away. Saber found he could not restrain himself from looking at her lips, at her neck and breasts. “A lady does not share a man’s bed until they are married.”

  “I have all but shared your bed already. For short periods of time, it’s true. I wish to rest with you, to hold you in my arms and have you hold me. I want to stay with you all night.”

  “My God,” Saber breathed. “You are a temptress, Ella.”

  “Then I may come to you?”

  “Keep your voice down.”

  “I feel a darkness in you, Saber. A struggle.”

  He stiffened.

  “There,” she said. “It’s there again. They are there again.”

  “They?” Sweat broke out on his back. “What do you speak of?”

  “Please don’t pull away from me. Trust me, Saber. You harbor some devils. The night when I was so foolish as to surprise you, you attacked.”

  “Because—”

  “Because you thought I was come to attack you. You did not know who I was and you expected me to be an enemy.”

  “Ella—”

  “And you once came to me in a trance. Did you think I didn’t know your condition, my love? When Papa and Great-Grandmama left me alone at your house, you came to me with that dagger upraised and you were not yourself. When you first entered that room, you did not know who I was. On that occasion, as on the other, it was my cry that stopped you.”

  He rubbed at his brow. “We’d best say good night, Ella.”

  “You are ill, aren’t you?”

  Saber withdrew his hand from hers. “Don’t presume to speak about matters that are beyond your comprehension.”

  “I would rather comprehend,” she told him. “So I shall come to you tonight and learn the cause of this darkness of yours—this affliction.”

  “I have no affliction!” The others would hear, but he no longer cared. He turned from Ella and walked swiftly across the room. “I shall bid you all a good night. Kindly warn the staff that the doors to my rooms will be kept locked. A habit from living abroad among strangers.”

  “We are hardly strangers,” Grandmama said.

  “Nevertheless, it’s my preference. I prefer that no one disturb me. Privacy is of the utmost importance to me. Good night to you all.” He made certain Ella—who appeared stricken—understood his implication.

  “Hah!” Grandmama rose to her feet. “No doubt you will be glad enough to allow your bride into whatever private sanctum you decide to share with her.”

  Saber opened the door.

  “I think your ball for Ella would be a perfect time to announce the betrothal,” the old lady told Calum. “The sooner we get on with this, the better.”

  “No!” Saber spun to face them. “No. Under no circumstances will you announce a betrothal at the ball.”

  He heard Ella’s small cry of distress but did not as much as glance in her direction.

  “Would you care to explain your reluctance, old chap?” Calum said. He watched Saber narrowly. “Other than some perfectly appropriate desire to have Struan and Justine present.”

  “That is exactly the reason,” he lied. He could not tell them that when Ella spoke of his “darkness” he doubted his decision to marry her at all.

  Ella could not sleep. She’d opened the casement and sat upon the window seat where she could allow the night breeze to cool her skin.

  For all Saber’s declarations of ardor, he was still uncertain he wanted her to be his wife.

  She knelt and crossed her arms on the sill. Somewhere an owl screeched. The scents were of stocks and sweet williams, and the other flowers massed for cutting in the kitchen gardens.

  Somewhere above her Saber slept.

  Ella sighed. Each time she thought of him, the most extraordinary sensations tingled in her breasts and ached deep in her belly, and almost pinched in the unmentionable—the unnameable—place between her thighs. Saber had touched all of those places and elicited the very feelings she longed to feel again.

  And he wanted his own feelings. She just knew he did.

  Mama’s book.

  That was it. She would obtain a copy of Mama’s book and read all the things she’d been told she must not read until she was to be married.

  She was to be married. Most certainly she must read the book. Then she would understand what made Saber act so strangely. And she would know exactly what to do when… when they… She’d know what to do when they did It. There was definitely an It that was beyond all they had experienced together already.

  Oh, the breeze was so sweet. The thought that there was more than they had already experienced seemed incredible, yet there was that… that … There had been an insistent something deep inside her. And why would Saber’s manhood grow so large and hard, just for the sake of growing large and hard?

  No. No, she would not continue without discovering the truth of it all, and Mama knew. Everyone said her book was innovative and enlightening, and it was time for Ella to become enlightened. She had seen naked bodies cavorting at …

  Enough of such thoughts.

  A light tap came at the door.

  She grew absolutely still.

  Saber had come to her. Ella’s heart leaped. Her throat dried. With a whine, the door opened a little. “Ellie? Ellie, are you asleep?”

  She slumped and rested her head on her arms. “Max, what are you doing creeping around in the night? Go away.”

  Rather than go away, he entered and closed himself inside. “This is really important, Ellie. I’ve just been having a chat with Bigun, and I came to you direct.”

  “Bigun?” She turned to sit on the seat. “Come here. What are you talking about, having a chat with Bigun? It’s the middle of the night.”

  “He caught me.”

  Ella peered through the gloom at her brother. “Explain yourself.”

  He sat beside her. “Nothing to get overset about, our Ellie. I’d popped out to try my hand at a few cards. Bigun was in his damnable chair when I tried to make my way upstairs.”

  “Cards? Oh, Max. You’re only fifteen. Where have you been?”

  He shrugged and hung his head.

  “Tell me at once.”

  “White’s is incredible, Ellie. A man feels like a man at White’s. Too bad old Beau Brummell no longer sits in his window. Should have liked to see that, I can tell you.”

  “White’s?” Ella whispered. “White’s? You’ve been gambling at White’s?”

  “Any club good enough for the cream of Society is good enough for me. I have a certain eye—a certain second sense when it comes to games of chance. Faro is a particular favorite of mine. I have that dramatic flair required to play with the required command.”

  Ella cringed and drew her knees up beneath her night gown. “Gambling.” She shook her head. “At White’s. What did you use for money?”

  He shrugged.

  “Answer me, Max. At once.”

  “Oh, all right. I didn’t,” he finished under his breath.

  “You didn’t gamble?”

  “I didn’t get into White’s. But only because I didn’t like the way the porter spoke to me. Told him off, I can tell you. Told him I had better places to be than his club anyway.”

  “You are a trial,” Ella said, weak with relief. “You tried to get into the best club in London and failed. You had no right to sneak out of this house in the middle of the night and make a cake of yourself. You should be
returned to Eton at once.”

  “I’m not strong enough yet.”

  “Fie! There is nothing wrong with you but your mischief. But no matter. What is all this about Bigun? I expect he told you off.”

  “He told me he was on his way to deliver a message to you. I offered to do it for him.”

  Ella peered at him. “A message? At this time of night?”

  “I merely said I would bring it. I cannot be expected to understand why it was sent so late. But I’ll gladly take it away, if you prefer.”

  “You vexing boy!” Ella presented a hand. “Give it to me at once. And light a lamp, if you please.”

  Max did as he was asked and brought the lamp close enough for Ella to read her note:

  “Ella,” it began. “We are in need of time together. I wish to court you as you should be courted at such a time. Please accompany me to the theater this evening—”

  Ella looked up. “Obviously Bigun was supposed to deliver it in the morning. The lazy man decided to save himself a task.”

  “What does it say?” Max asked.

  Excitement made Ella’s hands shake. “Saber wishes me to accompany him to the theater this evening.”

  “Which theater?” Max asked with audible envy.

  “Drury Lane,” Ella told him, too happy to think. “He thinks I will enjoy seeing how beautiful the building is now. Oh, Max, he is becoming his true self again. I knew he would.”

  She slept somewhere below him.

  If he hadn’t been such a fool, she’d be beside him now.

  Bigun rapped the door lightly and entered. “My lord?”

  “Who else should I be?” Saber asked irritably.

  “As you say.” Bigun was his usual imperturbable self. “I will prepare a relaxing draft for you.”

  Saber made no protest.

  Brown liquid gurgled from Bigun’s ubiquitous bottle into a goblet. “Pleasant night, is it not, my lord?”

  “Pleasant?”

  “Not too cold. Not too warm. A certain snap in the air, as the English like to say.”

  “Really? I hadn’t noticed.” All he’d been aware of was that he could actually feel Ella’s presence under the same roof.

  “Well, then,” Bigun said, setting the goblet on the chest beside Saber. “There is a note here, also, my lord. You won’t want to bother with it until morning, but I’ll leave it anyway.”

  Saber watched Bigun place something white upon the chest. “Note? What note, Bigun? From whom?”

  “My lord, you are not to concern yourself with it now. Respectfully, of course, I suggest that you take your potion and sleep.”

  “I asked you a bloody question!”

  “You are overwrought.” As he shook his head, Bigun’s gold turban caught flickers of firelight. “Rose was going to bring the note in the morning. I said I would save her the journey up so many stairs. I should not have brought it in until you awoke.”

  “Rose?” Saber pushed himself up against the pillows. “Is that Miss Rossmara’s maid?”

  “It is indeed, my lord. A most excellent maid, too, if I may remark on it. Modest and, unless I am much mistaken, very shy. She does not like to converse. But—”

  “Miss Rossmara’s maid gave you a note to give to me. From Miss Rossmara, I presume?”

  “That would seem—”

  “The lamp.” Saber snatched up the envelope Bigun had placed beside the goblet.

  Bigun lighted the lamp and stood by, sighing as if greatly burdened.

  Saber pulled out a sheet of paper and read the few lines of writing it contained. “I’m damned,” he muttered.

  “Bad news?”

  “I’m damned.”

  “Oh, my lord! It is bad news. I should have waited—”

  “Thank you for bringing this, Bigun,” Saber said. “Nothing to be concerned about, I assure you. Quite the reverse. I won’t be requiring anything further. Good night to you.”

  Bigun bowed and said, “Good night to you, my lord,” as he retreated and left Saber alone.

  Saber read the note again. The lady had spirit and ingenuity—but then, hadn’t those been two of the qualities that had drawn him to her?

  “Saber,” her note read. “You always knew what was best, and how best to accomplish it. Of course we need more time together. Going to Drury Lane this evening will be wonderful. I should very much enjoy seeing a performance by Edmund Kean’s son. Thank you.”

  “Drury Lane and Charles Kean it shall be.” He chuckled. Ella, Ella, Ella!

  Chapter Twenty-three

  “I t’s ever so romantic,” Rose said. She put the finishing touches to strands of pearls threaded through Ella’s arcade of braids. “They say ’is lordship is so … ’E’s so sad, somehow. No, not sad, but broodin’. A bit like that Lord Byron was when he was first about ’ere in London, they say. Only Lord Avenall’s much more ’andsome.”

  “Yes, Rose,” Ella said, too excited to consider an appropriate answer.

  “It’s a shame as how they did… When Lord Avenall was in India. Well, I ’aven’t seen it for meself, mind you, but they say ’is face—”

  “His lordship has a scar on his face.” A scar that had already become part of him to Ella. There was nothing about Saber that she did not love. “It is insignificant. Certainly it is nothing to be gossiped about belowstairs, Rose.”

  Rose lowered her eyes and bobbed. “No, miss. I’m sorry, miss.”

  Ella hunched her shoulders and shivered with anticipation. “You need not be sorry at all, Rose. I think this is all very romantic, too.”

  “You love ’im, don’t you?”

  She ought to refuse any answer.

  “Oh, there I go again,” Rose said, puffing. “I always did say whatever I thought. Gets me into more trouble, I can tell you.”

  “I do love him,” Ella said. “And I have always admired impulsiveness when it was without malice. You are much appreciated, Rose. Now, tell me, how does all this frippery look?”

  “Just a minute.” Rose untangled the two pearl tassels that lay against Ella’s sleek, black hair. “Up you get and we’ll ’ave a good look.”

  Ella stood up and held out her arms. Rose draped a shawl of black silk painted with clusters of violets the same shade as Ella’s crepe dress. Pearls edged a wide lace ruffle from shoulder to shoulder at the neck of her bodice, and around the full skirt’s hem.

  Rose stood back and sighed. “You look a treat, miss.” She straightened Ella’s black ribbon belt. “Ever so lovely.”

  “I feel…as if I’m going to pop! Isn’t that silly?”

  “No, miss. I feel as if I’m going to pop too!”

  They laughed, and Rose ran to answer a knock at the sitting-room door.

  Crabley, red-faced from his climb, glowered at Rose. “The carriage is here for Miss Ella,” he said. “I can’t even trust a member of this household staff with a simple message. Might as well do everything myself.”

  “Crabley?” Ella hurried into the sitting room. “The carriage is early. Is his lordship waiting for me? Oh, dear, I do hate to keep anyone waiting.” Thank goodness she was ready.

  “His Lordship’s been detained on business elsewhere. He’s sent a carriage.”

  “But—”

  “He’ll be at the theater to meet you.”

  “Oh.” Being disappointed over a little change in plans was foolish. “Very well, then.”

  Rose ran behind, plucking at Ella’s skirts and tugging the shawl a little this way or a little that way, until they reached the carriage. Then she stood beside Crabley on the flagway and waved.

  What a day this had been. Lonely, and bubbling with frantic excitement at the same time.

  Max, the wretch, had actually feigned feverishness and managed to elicit sympathy from Blanche Bastible, who liked Max as much as she disliked Ella—or any female for that matter, save Great-Grandmama.

  And Great-Grandmama had taken to her bed again, evidently angry with Saber for his abrupt departure to h
is rooms the previous evening. She would, she’d let it be known, reappear when suitably mollified.

  Uncle Calum had left for Scotland before first light and Ella hadn’t caught as much as a glimpse of Saber all day.

  As the coach rolled noisily over cobbles, Ella watched the buildings they passed. Nightfall was almost upon the scene and a purple blush across the rooftops made the sun’s final bow.

  Ella did not even know how long it might take to get to Drury Lane.

  But Saber would be there.

  The coach made great speed. Ella clung to the edge of the seat. Outside the windows, daylight failed entirely, replaced by a dusky, smoke-laced haze. A wide swing around a corner brought narrower streets into view.

  Those people Ella saw with the aid of streetlamps appeared more meanly dressed. Impressive buildings gave way to less splendid structures, then to narrow, crowded dwellings above businesses with shuttered windows.

  The coachman had taken a wrong direction! Ella stared from the windows, but could scarcely make out anything between the streetlamps now. Definitely the wrong direction.

  She attempted to rise and knock for the coachman’s attention, but was promptly thrown back into her seat by another reckless turn.

  Her heart thumped so hard, she heard its beat in her ears.

  “It will be all right,” she said loudly. Sometimes, as a child, she’d found that speaking in a large voice drowned out the fears inside her head. “I don’t know the way to Drury Lane. But Saber will be there. Saber will be there!”

  The wheels clattered and the coach bounced. Each abrupt tip of the carriage flung Ella to the right or to the left. Her reticule shot from her lap and slid beneath the seat opposite.

  “Saber!” she cried.

  No, this was not right. This was wrong. Something was wrong.

  The coach slowed as unexpectedly as it had speeded up. Ella’s back pressed into the squabs. Squealing, the brakes took hold and the wheels ground more slowly. A great clatter of hoofs sounded, and the whinny and snort of the horses.

  “Whoa!” The coachman’s voice rose above the rattle of tack.

  Ella pressed her hands over her ears, closed her eyes, and waited until all movement ceased. She would have a thing or two to say to the driver.

  “Out you come, then.” The door swung open. “ ’Urry up. Can’t ’ang around.”