Visions of Lady Mary

by Rachel Ann Smith

  Upon the expansive stairs, stood the Comte and Comtesse Boucher, flanked by boys and girls of various ages. All but the eldest boy’s features were similar to that of the comtesse.

  What was amiss?

  The coach rolled to a stop. Gilbert dismounted to assist Mary, but Valois already had her in hand and was escorting her up the stairs to greet their hosts. Hadfield appeared on his right, and together they made their way to Mary, each taking a post on either side of her.

  Next to Mary, Valois smiled and said, “Boucher, ma cousine Anglaise, Lady Mary.”

  Mary sank into a graceful curtsy, then placed her gloved hand in their host’s as she rose. Boucher brought Mary’s hand to his lips, while Gilbert’s hands balled into fists.

  The comte said, “Welcome, Lady Mary, welcome.”

  Mary’s head remained cast downward. Odd. The woman never refrained from meeting another’s gaze head-on. What was it about their host that made her behave so strangely?

  Instead of introducing Hadfield and Gilbert next, Valois continued to converse and laugh in French until Hadfield coughed loudly. Rotating on one heel and with a wave of a hand in their direction, Valois quickly said, “Excusez-moi. Lady Mary’s copains, Lord Hadfield and Lord Waterford.”

  Boucher finally relinquished Mary’s hand. How peculiar? She had remained mute the entire time. The heated gaze of the comte distracted Gilbert. Boucher took in both Hadfield’s and his measure and grumbled in French about having more handsome men under his roof. Valois slapped the man on the back and steered their host off in the direction of the house.

  Meanwhile, it was the Comtesse Boucher’s turn to give them a once-over. The comtesse’s assessing gaze made Gilbert’s skin crawl.

  The woman’s lips curved in a smile as she turned to lead them into the mansion. “We did not expect Valois to bring such a large party with him. I will make arrangements, but it will take some time with the number of guests arriving today.”

  She spoke with a strong French accent, but her grammar and word choice were those of a native English speaker. Eyes focused on the woman in front of him Gilbert mentally debated whether the lady was English-born.

  A sharp elbow to his side brought his attention back to Mary.

  With a scowl, he leaned down to ear level and said, “I thought you had obtained an invitation.”

  “I never declared such a thing. You merely assumed.” Mary’s impish grin appeared. She had transformed back into the unflappable woman he was accustomed to. His muscles relaxed as she hooked her arm through his. “Stop worrying, Gilbert. All is as it should be.”

  Coming to a halt, Comtesse Boucher turned to face them. “Lady Mary, come.” The woman’s mouth slashed into a frown as she noted Mary and Gilbert were connected. “You too, Lord Waterford.”

  Gilbert turned to address Hadfield, but the man was nowhere in sight. The clever fellow must have followed Valois and Boucher.

  Trailing their hostess and surrounded by strangers, Gilbert’s pulse began to race. Large groups milled about, filling the halls and entrances to a variety of rooms. He peered into each room as they walked past, noting a number of them were set up with card tables. Others had billiard tables, but most were crammed with guests. Some dressed casually, others in what he would consider evening wear, and then some appeared to be already in masquerade costumes.

  Mary stroked his arm. The simple glide of her hand up and down his forearm settled him and solidified their connection. She was in tune with him and he with her. Cursing his years of foolishness once more, Gilbert placed a hand over hers and squeezed. She rewarded him with one of those marvelous smiles that he had been so envious of for their entire journey to the Boucher estate. Wrapped up in the vision of Mary smiling up at him, he nearly guided them directly into Comtesse Boucher.

  The lady of the house had slowed in front of a long line of guests. “Duc de Valois mentioned you are to see Madame Auclair.”

  Mary demurely nodded.

  Where was his brazen Mary, the woman who walked about with certainty wherever she went? It had always appeared to him that she knew precisely where to go and when. He had been extraordinarily pleased by her touch, but what caused her to seek him out now? She was so typically independent; the air of uncertainty that surrounded her now was somewhat shocking.

  Grinning like a fool, he patted her hand once more, pleased that she had turned to him in her time of distress.

  Mary straightened and stood taller as Comtesse Boucher said, “Come see me when you are ready. Otherwise, you will be milling about like these peasants.”

  The chatter surrounding them continued as if no one heard the lady’s offensive statement. The French were an odd lot.

  Mary nodded once more and sidled an inch closer to him as they followed Comtesse Boucher weaving her way through the throng of guests.

  Gilbert searched the crowd about them, looking for signs of a threat, but all he saw was harmless party revelry. He shouldn’t complain; he liked Mary’s lush form pushed up against him. But something was definitely amiss.

  They made their way through the grand estate full of twists and turns, like a maze. Gilbert made a mental note each time they took a turn, identifying a piece of furniture as a marker. He had no wish to become lost among all these strangers. He would have to caution Mary not to venture about without him. No, he wouldn’t have to. Mary’s grip had steadily tightened as they continued to make their way through the estate. She was fully aware and smart enough to know the inherent risks.

  Finally, Comtesse Boucher stopped in front of elegantly carved double doors and opened them with a flourish. “This is to be your chamber, Lady Mary.”

  He stopped and waited for Mary to enter. When she didn’t release her hold, he leaned down and asked, “What is the matter?”

  “I’m not sure, but I do not trust the woman,” whispered Mary. “My skin crawls every time she speaks. It’s not a good sign. Please don’t leave.”

  It was inappropriate for him to enter with their host present. But the worry in Mary’s eyes convinced him to ignore propriety.

  Striding in with Mary still securely latched to his arm, he said, “Lady Mary, this is an exquisite room.”

  Not only did it house a bed, a writing desk, and a chair, but there was also an entire sitting area cozily arranged in front of a fireplace. Books were stacked strategically about the room; an easel sat near the window. This was the perfect room for Mary. The worry in her eyes was quickly replaced by excitement as she took in the room. If they weren’t on a mission, he would have suggested they spend their entire time right here in her bedchamber. Alone.

  “Dine as you wish. Food is served throughout the day. As a family, we observe the traditional times, and I welcome you to join us if you prefer, but we shall not wait upon anyone.” Comtesse Boucher restacked a pile of books that were scattered upon the bed and dropped them to the floor without care.

  Mary’s gasp had Gilbert turning to face her. Her gaze was trained upon the books that lay in disarray upon the floor.

  Their host’s skirts swooshed as she turned and approached, pulling his gaze away from Mary. Comtesse Boucher’s gaze took in his form from head to toe. Boldly she ran a finger across his chest and then down his arm.

  “Lord Waterford, follow me. I’ll show you to your room.”

  Mary’s cheeks flushed, and her luscious lips thinned into a straight line.

  “I shall return to escort you to dinner.” Gilbert pulled his hand out of his hostess’s petite fingers and leaned in to whisper, “Don’t leave the room without me.”

  He wanted to look into her eyes, but she would not meet his gaze. Mary simply nodded. To his relief, Greene appeared along with footmen in tow with Mary’s luggage.

  He swooped a hand in front of him and said, “After you, my lady.”

  Comtesse Boucher’s practiced smile unnerved him. “Yes, my lord.”

  She exited the room, and he obediently followed.

  It wasn’t until they had g
one down several hallways that she turned to face him. At her abrupt stop, he nearly bowled the woman over, grasping her by the arms so that they didn’t end up in a heap upon the floor. Comtesse Boucher giggled, and Gilbert released her immediately. The she-devil knew precisely what she was up to.

  “Lord Waterford, would you care to join me for tea?” She glanced at a set of double-wide doors, with handles that appeared to be carved from ivory.

  “I’m weary and dusty from our travels. I should wish to refresh before joining you.”

  She ran her palm down his chest and continued until her hand rested upon his family jewels. Her thumb rubbed along his length. Usually, the bold attention of a gorgeous female neatly packaged in an exquisite gown would require his mind to override the physical stimulation. However, after spending days with Mary, or perhaps because she was under the same roof, he had absolutely no interest in another, and his body was in agreement.

  Comtesse Boucher, purred, “Perhaps later.” She snapped her fingers, and a footman appeared. “Escort Lord Waterford to the Green Room.”

  She turned and left without another glance, trailed by two very eager footmen.

  The footman assigned to him only sighed and led the way to a room that was but a few doors down from Comtesse Boucher’s chambers.

  He entered, and after releasing the footman, who looked anxious to return to his mistress, Gilbert leaned back against the door. His own chamber was not quite as grand as Mary’s, but it did house a very inviting bed, large enough to accommodate himself and another.

  Removing his jacket and waistcoat, he eyed the massive bed. A whiff of his own scent had him striding directly to the changing chamber. A quick wash and a fresh set of clothes were a necessity.

  Clean and refreshed, he lay upon the bed and closed his weary eyes. Recalling the way Mary had eased him with her gentle caresses had his body waking in ways Comtesse Boucher had hoped to invoke.

  Placing his hands behind his head, he began to list the tasks he should complete.

  Assess the security of the estate.

  Ensure Hadfield had not gotten himself into trouble.

  Find out from Mary what information she had managed to extract from the French duke.

  The image of Mary’s hand stroking his arm distracted him once more. There was only one way to banish his scandalous thoughts. He donned his coat, opened his door, and looked out into the hallway. Ensuring no one of import was about, Gilbert crept out and sought the one room his body desired to be in.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Mary leaned her head back against the towel that was placed on the edge of the enormous tub that engulfed her tired and stiff body. Despite Duc de Valois’s coach being well sprung and luxuriously padded, it didn’t change the fact that she had been sitting for two solid days and her muscles were stiff from lack of use. Relaxing in the warm water, Mary let her thoughts roam freely. A luxury she had never experienced before. Baths weren’t particularly enjoyable when surrounded by the constant racket of voices and prying eyes, even if the “angels” swore they weren’t looking.

  “My lady, you will turn into a prune if you remain any longer.”

  Water splashed as she raised a hand to inspect her skin. Wiggling her wrinkled fingers, she grinned as she replied, “Greene, you might be correct, but the water has yet to cool.”

  “I’ve never known you to lounge in the tub this long.”

  A twinge pulled at her heart. She worried how long it would be before she would see Phillip and Lady Frances again, but the solitude was enough to make her forget her worries. Now that she couldn’t see or hear them, she could convince herself she was entirely alone except for Greene.

  “Just a few more minutes.”

  Greene lifted a bottle to her nose. “How kind of Duc de Valois to send along the jasmine-scented oil.”

  “Yes, my cousin recalls the most unremarkable things I care for.”

  “Don’t you find it peculiar that he knows so much about your likes and dislikes after only such a short period of acquaintance?”

  “No. He is a great listener.”

  The creases on Greene’s forehead deepened. “And when was it you mentioned your love for jasmine?”

  Water sloshed as Mary stood abruptly. “Please assist me out.”

  Greene placed a warmed linen cloth about her as Mary’s feet landed upon a thick rug. She missed such luxuries.

  Tucking the ends of the material in the valley between her breasts, she swiveled to follow Greene into the changing chamber. Only she came to an abrupt halt as she came face-to-face with bronzed skin.

  Mary leaned back to see whose neck tempted her lips. “Gilbert!” She stumbled backward, but his warm hands wrapped about her arms and pulled her to his chest.

  “Shh. Greene will hear you.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I needed to see you.”

  “Why?”

  Confusion flickered in his eyes. What had prompted Gilbert to risk coming into her chambers?

  His hands rubbed her arms. “I need to know what you and Valois discussed these past two days.”

  Mary pulled back and searched his eyes. There was a vulnerability she’d never seen before. She was about to reassure him that Valois posed no danger when he bent and his lips lightly brushed against hers. She reached up and wrapped her hands behind his neck and rose on her tiptoes, following him and preventing him from achieving a full retreat.

  Gilbert closed his eyes. “I apologize, but all I’ve been thinking of is you.”

  She rubbed her thumb along his neck. When he opened his eyes to meet her gaze, she demanded, “Kiss me.”

  Like the dutiful soldier he was, he obeyed her command. But unlike before, there was an urgency as his lips glided over hers and down her neck. When his mouth returned to hers, he didn’t relent until she gave him access, and his tongue swept inside. Her head spun at having a part of him inside her, and she tentatively returned the gesture. It was like they were mating with only their tongues. If his tongue could evoke such delicious feelings, what would it be like to have him fill her in the most intimate ways? His kisses were dizzying. Gilbert began to lift her, but her legs were tangled in the sheet, and she wasn’t able to wrap them about him. Bending, he scooped her up into his arms and strode over to the bed.

  Mary looked over his shoulder to where Greene was peering around the curtain from the changing chamber and gave a slight head shake. The partition material fell back into place as Greene retreated back into the chamber.

  Gilbert wanted her. She didn’t need anyone else to tell her it was so. She had seen it in his eyes. For years Lady Frances had told her he did deep down inside. But for years, he had never shown any such interest. Oh, he had shown care but like that of a guardian or caretaker. But now the heat in his gaze told her he wanted her in the most carnal of ways, and she wanted to experience whatever it was he was offering while the voices remained silent.

  As he laid her on the bed, the knot in the linen came undone. Bent over her, Gilbert’s gaze lowered to her chest briefly before it flickered back to land on her lips.

  She reached for him. Gilbert turned toward the adjoining chamber. Oh, she wasn’t about to lose this opportunity. She sat up, letting the material fall to her waist. Reaching for his hand, she placed it upon the swollen globe that now ached to be touched.

  Gilbert withdrew his hand from her breast and cupped her cheek. “Mary. You have yet to agree to marry me.”

  “I’m agreeing now.”

  “Are you certain? I’ve not had a chance to properly court you, and I thought that is what you wanted most.”

  “What I want most is for you to believe in me, to trust me. You not interfering these past two days proved more to me than showering me with compliments, poems, or flowers.”

  “Poems?”

  “Isn’t that what young bucks do to gain a lady’s hand?”

  “I’m no young buck.”

  Mary shifted closer to the edge and pu
lled his shirttails from his breeches. “Then you know what it is I’m asking for.”

  “But do you?”

  Did she? Having grown up with brothers that were not at all shy, she believed she had a relatively good idea of what intimate relations would entail. She might not have seen, but she had undoubtedly heard enough bragging from her brothers. There was also the matter of the possibility of conceiving. Her gaze roamed over the man before her.

  Her mind decided, she scrambled to her knees and reached under his shirt to place her hands upon his waist. With a groan, Gilbert grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled it over his head. Mary inhaled a deep breath. His sculpted muscles were marked with scars, no doubt incurred while he was on the battlefield. It wasn’t the markings upon his skin that held her interest, it was the trail of hair that led down into his breeches. She traced the line of hair with her finger as she hooked a finger along the edge of the material that prevented her from exploring further.

  Gilbert’s hand covered hers. “Lass, you promise to become Lady Waterford?”

  Is that what she wanted? She had known for years this was to be her destiny, but ultimately, it was still her choice. Did she want to marry the Adonis before her?

  She had prolonged the inevitable for long enough, and the gravitational pull was undeniable. She had no fears of Gilbert being unfaithful, unlike her own papa. Once Gilbert made a vow, there would be no question as to his loyalty. He was stable, reliable, and oh the warmth that radiated from him. She wanted to press herself against him and soak it up like when she lifted her face to the summer sun.

  She nodded and tugged on his waistband.

  He let out a long breath and crawled upon the bed, forcing her to lie back. As he loomed over her, she ran her hands up over his chest shoulders and back down his arms. She was about to retrace her movements when he bent and said, “I love your hands upon me, but I want to see to your pleasure first.”

  What did he mean? She didn’t recall her brothers mentioning such a thing. Mary withdrew her hands from his arms. “You would prefer I not touch you?”