The billiard room faced out to the working gardens of Elmswood, with a view to the stables, the kitchen garden and the outhouses, behind which lay the Estate Office. Daniel pulled the shutters over, having no desire to have Kate’s precious gardener witness their actions. The man was doubtless a green-fingered genius, but he had the irritating habit of being a constant presence, appearing on the lawn every morning at precisely the time that Daniel was either preparing to swim or finishing his swim.
There was enough sunlight filtering in through the shutters to make the room dim, but not dark. Estelle’s pianoforte stood against one wall, with a circle of chairs around it for her audience. She was shy about her music, he remembered Kate saying in one of her letters, and never played for strangers, though she could occasionally be tempted to play the organ in the church.
The chairs he now moved aside were an odd assortment, chosen for comfort. Aside from the oak panelling, there was none of the gentleman’s club type of furnishings he vaguely recalled from his father’s day, and not a trace of that distinctive smell of snuff and brandy which lingered after he had enjoyed a game of billiards with friends. The room smelled of roses—a scent he traced to an onyx dish of dried petals on the mantelpiece. He picked up a handful, inhaling the heady fragrance, reminded of a hamam he had once visited and the scented oils they’d used there.
The door closed gently. He let the petals fall and turned round. Kate was standing just inside the room, her arms wrapped protectively around herself. She had rolled and pinned his white silk trouser legs, revealing her bare ankles and dainty feet. She had tied a wide blue sash around her waist and rolled up the sleeves of his tunic to her elbows, making his austere clothing look absurdly feminine and Kate herself, with her hair down and tied back, distractingly alluring, as if she were dressed for bed.
‘I managed to avoid being seen,’ she said, still hovering at the door.
Realising that any compliment would make her even more self-conscious than she already was, Daniel concentrated on making her feel at ease. ‘Lock the door, just to be on the safe side,’ he said, ‘then come over and join me. I’m glad you dispensed with your shoes. You can find your balance better without them.’
‘I feel odd. I’m not used to wearing so little, or to being so unconstrained.’
Manfully, he refused to allow his eyes to wander to her un-corseted bosom. ‘Forget about what you’re wearing. Concentrate on being able to move freely. Now, stand very still, shoulders back, arms at your side, and we’ll start with some simple breathing exercises.’
‘Enough,’ Kate said, flopping onto her tummy and gasping for breath. ‘I can’t do any more.’
Beside her, Daniel was still in that odd pose, his body held in a rigidly straight line by his elbows and his toes, and not in the least out of breath.
‘Well done,’ he said, pushing himself upright to sit cross-legged in one fluid movement. ‘You have a natural balance. It took me days of practice before I could hold some of those poses.’
‘You’re being kind.’ She heaved herself up, and managed with some ungainly floundering to place herself in approximately the same pose. He looked relaxed and comfortable. She, on the other hand, felt awkward and sore.
‘Did you enjoy it?’ he asked.
‘I did—though I suspect I would give you a different answer if you asked me tomorrow morning. I will almost certainly feel as if I have been stretched on a rack. Who would have thought that balancing and breathing could be so difficult? Is my face red? And my hair—I must look a fright.’
‘You look delightfully rumpled.’
Kate giggled. ‘You look as if you’ve barely been tested.’
‘I’ve been practising for more than ten years.’
‘So what can an expert of ten years do that I cannot?’
‘A handstand?’
‘Will you show me?’
Daniel rolled forward onto his hands, then slowly, and with complete control, raised his legs over his head. Kate watched, enthralled, as he held the pose for a few seconds, then moved into a series of other moves which flowed like a dance, each one controlled, deliberate, graceful. His face was quite blank, his eyes focused inwards. His tunic rolled back, exposing a taut belly, and the muscles clearly defined beneath his smooth, lightly tanned skin. He ended the sequence on his feet, taking one of the controlled breaths he had taught her, then opened his eyes, smiling sheepishly.
‘That was like a ballet.’
Daniel laughed. ‘It’s supposed to be fluid. I have to confess to showing off a little.’
‘I have to confess to enjoying every moment. How have you managed such a transformation in a matter of weeks since your illness?’
‘Hard work, and the fact that I managed to maintain my practice routine for much of the time I was in captivity.’
‘But you were manacled. I saw the marks.’
‘Where there’s a will there’s a way.’ He dropped onto the floor beside her.
‘Are you really as fully recovered as you seem to be? I thought it would take you much longer to regain your strength. You were as weak as a kitten a few short weeks ago.’
‘I realise that. And I’m not entirely free of the effects of my ordeal. I get severe attacks of pins and needles in my feet, and there are times when I wake up convinced that I still have manacles around my ankles. I expect I’ll suffer from occasional bouts of the ague for the rest of my life, but it won’t kill me. I’m lucky to be in such good health, and I’m extremely lucky to have had you as a nurse.’ He reached for her hand. ‘I owe you a great deal.’
‘You’ve said thank you, and I’ve told you there’s no need. I only did what any wife would do.’
‘No, you seriously underestimate yourself. I have had a very brief account from Sir Marcus of what you went through. He praised your resourcefulness and your courage, which amounts to an admission that you were tested above and beyond the call of duty—wifely or otherwise.’
‘I did what was necessary, that’s all, Daniel.’
‘You’re uncomfortable with praise. Your little toes are curling. So I won’t say any more, except that you are an extraordinary woman and I’m very lucky to have you as my wife.’ He kissed her hand. ‘Thank you.’
She had never heard him sound so sincere. For a moment, when their eyes met, she caught a glimpse of a very different Daniel, a man who cared, and, oddly, she wanted to cry. But then he let her hand go, getting effortlessly to his feet, pulling her with him, smiling at her in quite a different way.
‘I didn’t know my simple garments would look so good on you.’
She dropped a mock curtsey, then groaned. ‘Ouch.’
‘You need a hot bath,’ Daniel said. ‘I don’t suppose that’s possible?’
‘Only if I divert both the kitchen maid and chambermaid from their other tasks and commandeer all the hot water from the kitchen for the next two hours, thus preventing Cook from doing her work too. Shall I go and jump in the lake instead?’
‘It would be the perfect solution—if you could swim. Why are English country houses so primitive? It should be possible, in this day and age, to have hot water more readily available.’
‘I have seen some patented bathing apparatus advertised, which claims to be able to fill a bath at the turn of a valve.’
‘In Arabia and in Turkey they have something called a hamam, which is a steam bath—or rather a series of baths, rather like the Roman model. There are different days set aside for men and women, and you can spend the entire day there.’
‘An entire day devoted to bathing!’
‘Bathing in hot and cold water, steaming, having a massage, taking tea, having your body oiled. Don’t wrinkle your nose—it’s extremely relaxing and it would ease all the aches and pains in your poor muscles.’
‘So you’ve been to Turkey? Would Sir Marcus add a week to your sentence if he knew you’d admitted that to me?’
‘Sir Marcus thinks you are eminently trustworthy. I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t try to recruit you, he thinks so highly of you.’
‘If he sent me to Turkey then I would try one of those hamam baths. I like the sound of them. I feel as if my body has toothache.’
‘Would you like a massage? I could give you one.’
He was not quite smiling, but there was that wicked look in his eyes that dared her to accept and made her body throb in a very different way.
‘Would it make me feel better?’
‘I think it would help us both.’
One of the benefits of living in a house with so few servants, Daniel thought as he rummaged through his travel trunk, was knowing their routine. Sylvia, for example, always made the beds first thing, straight after collecting the breakfast dishes, and would have no reason to come upstairs for the remainder of the day.
Kate knew that as well as he did, but she was perched nervously on the single chair in his room, eyeing the door as if the maid might burst through it at any moment.
He found what he was looking for and set it down on the bedside table before turning the key in the lock. ‘Now we won’t be disturbed.’
‘But what if she has forgotten something? She’ll think it very strange...’
‘That Lady Elmswood is in her husband’s bedchamber while the pair of them are on their honeymoon?’
‘Lady Elmswood would not have spent the last two hours contorting her body into poses it is not designed to contort into while wearing her husband’s clothes.’
‘No, that was most definitely Kate. I infinitely prefer Kate. She is decidedly unconventional.’
‘I’m not, Daniel. I am tediously conventional.’
He laughed softly. ‘So tediously conventional that you asked me to marry you.’
‘That was different.’
‘No, you’re different. You still have no idea how extraordinarily brave you were, coming to rescue me...’
‘I didn’t rescue you. I simply nursed you, and then dragged you back here against your will to recuperate.’
‘There you are—that alone is evidence of how extraordinary you are.’
‘You were too weak to resist.’
‘It’s true. I do find you quite irresistible.’
‘When I am red in the face and my hair is a tangle and I’m wearing men’s clothes?’
‘Especially then.’ He pulled her to her feet, wrapping his arms around her, resting his chin in the wild tangle of her soft blonde hair. ‘You see, you’re not the only one who is unconventional.’
She put her arms around his waist, nestling closer to him, and his body responded instantly. He didn’t remember ever being so responsive to a woman, but it had been so long—perhaps that was why his desire for Kate was so strong.
It was suddenly urgently necessary that he kiss her. He said her name and she lifted her face, smiling up at him in a way that left him in no doubt that she wanted to kiss him too. He moaned softly as their lips met and their tongues touched. Only two thin layers of fabric lay between them. He could feel the press of her breasts against his chest, the heat of her skin as he slid his hands down to cup her bottom, feel how hard he was already, pressing against her belly.
Dragging his mouth away, taken aback by the strength of his desire for her, putting that too down to abstinence, Daniel was distracted by the corresponding blaze of heat in her eyes. Also due to abstinence—a lifetime of abstinence, he reminded himself. She deserved better than a hard, quick—
Dear God, don’t think like that.
‘Ready?’ he asked her.
Her laugh was husky. ‘I think I have made that clear enough.’
Which made it impossible not to kiss her again, cupping her breasts this time, feeling her nipples harden at his touch, feeling himself get painfully hard as she slid her hands under his tunic to touch his bare skin.
He undid the sash she had tied around her waist and then started on the row of buttons, aware of her watching him, tensing as he undid the last button, but making no attempt to stop him when he pulled the tunic apart. Her skin was so pale. Her nipples were dark, hard peaks begging for attention. He took one in his mouth, heard her soft, delightful sigh, and it almost overset him—hearing her breath catch in her throat, knowing that if he touched her now, slipped his hand between her legs, she would climax quickly and he could be inside her...
It took a Herculean effort to stop. They gazed at each other, breathing heavily. Half-dazed, he led her over to the freshly made bed, over which he had spread a fresh bathing sheet, indicating that she lie crossways on her tummy, helping her to remove the tunic when she did.
‘Kate...’ He whispered her name simply for the sake of saying it.
There was no one like her—this combination of trust and innocence and experience. She wanted him, she made no attempt to hide that, and she trusted him completely to please her and to do her no harm.
He longed to please her. It almost stopped him in his tracks, the strength of his longing, and set alarm bells clanging. But he stilled them. Because he didn’t want to listen, and because he had already reassured himself that it was nothing...nothing more than the sum total of their current circumstances.
Their circumstances were extraordinary, and soon they would change. But he didn’t want to think of the time when it would be over. All he was interested in right now was Kate. Pleasing Kate. Who looked so delightful, spread half-naked on his bed. With the curve of her spine, the indent of her waist, the swell of her bottom barely concealed in his own silk trousers.
He picked up the glass vial of oil and warmed it between his hands. He swept the fall of her hair away, leaned over, and began the massage, working along her shoulders first, which would be painful from the poses he’d led her through. His own tunic was an unnecessary barrier. He cast it off, then spread her legs very slightly so he could lean closer, his bare chest brushing her back. Her hands were stretched up, under his pillow. He kissed the nape of her neck. She whimpered.
He put more oil on his hands and began to work down the knots of her spine, then over her sides, up to the flattened curve of her breasts, down, shaping the indent of her waist, feeling the softness of her belly, which she tensed at his touch.
The trousers were held in place by a cord. He undid it.
‘Kate?’
There was a second’s hesitation, and then a muffled ‘yes’. He eased the trousers down, pulling her towards him so that he now stood between her legs, his breath coming fast as he feasted his eyes on her bottom, dimpled, begging for his touch. The soft, yielding flesh set him on fire. The responsive arch of her back when he stroked her made his member throb. He worked the oil into the creases at the tops of her legs, working down one thigh to her calf, her ankle, her foot, then back up the other leg.
She was moving restlessly on the bed. He would slide so easily into her, and she would welcome the release of their bodies finally uniting, but this was Kate and he wanted to give her more.
Easing her onto her back, he was once again almost overset by the sight of her, eyes dark with passion, her nipples hard nubs, the curls between her legs so much darker than her blonde hair, revealing the hot, wet, inviting centre of her. He used the bath sheet to pull her towards him, then leaned over to kiss her, his mouth on her mouth, his chest brushing her breasts, the aching hardness between his legs sheathed only in his trousers, pressing against the hot dampness between hers.
She wrapped her arms around him, tilted instinctively against him, but he gently disentangled himself to kiss his way down her body until his mouth covered her sex.
‘Daniel!’
He licked her, aroused even more, if that was possible, by the scent of her and the taste of her and the heat of her.
‘Daniel...’ she said, but now it was a plea, and he had reached the limits of his own self-control.
Using his tongue and his hands, relishing every moment, he was urgent, in an agony of needing, wanting, lost in a way he never had been, in the need to be inside her.
She came quickly, crying out, panting his name, bucking under him, then pushing herself up on the bed to wrap her arms around his neck, kissing him feverishly with abandon.
‘Hurry,’ she said, and he didn’t give a damn whether she knew what she was asking or not.
Yanking at the cord which tied his trousers, kicking them away, he was panting and groaning like a wild beast as his agonisingly engorged shaft brushed the damp heat between her legs.
‘Daniel...’ Kate said, twining her legs around his waist.
If he hadn’t known better, he’d have thought she knew precisely what she was doing, but he did know better, and he found it in him—just—to stop himself from thrusting hard and deep.
‘Kate?’
‘Don’t stop.’
‘No. Yes. Kate, are you sure?’
She laughed, pulling his face towards her for a deep, slow kiss. ‘What do you think?’
He stopped thinking. He pushed into her and he was lost. Pushing higher, he let his eyes clash with Kate’s and their gazes held. It was written clear on her face, every move he made, and when he reached the top and held her, and she tightened around him, he knew that his feelings for her were written on his face, and he didn’t give a damn about anything except this perfect, silent communion of two people truly becoming one.
He began to move and she followed him, so that they quickly found a rhythm, his thrusts and her tightening matched by their breaths, becoming frantic as he thrust harder, faster, their gazes fixed on each other, their bodies locked, until she cried out, a warning he only just heeded, pulling himself free of her just in time before his own climax took him, shaking him to the core, racking him with pleasure.
Clinging to her, heedless of anything save the need not to let her go, he was soothed by her hand on the back of his head, by her saying his name, by the soft kisses she pressed to his mouth, by the feeling, when it was over, that the world had been turned inside out.
For long, timeless moments afterwards Kate was utterly lost in the pleasure of what had just occurred. Nothing had prepared her for this feeling that she was floating blissfully, that she was alone in a world that contained just herself and Daniel.
He rolled over onto the bed, pulling her with him, and they lay completely naked in broad daylight. Her head was on his shoulder, their legs were tangled together, her hand was flat on the expanse of his chest. The hair was rough, but his skin was smooth. She could feel his heartbeat slowing, feel her own doing the same. In the shaft of sunlight coming through the open window she could see dust motes dancing. She felt alive, her blood zinging in her veins as if she could do another hour of yoga and hold every pose. She was energised and yet completely at peace. This was what had been missing in her life.
At the exact moment this ominous thought made her heart skip a beat Daniel sat up. ‘This was a mistake.’
‘What?’ Kate pushed herself upright.
Daniel was already off the bed, grabbing his crimson dressing gown and throwing it at her. ‘Put that on.’ Turning away from her, he pulled on his own tunic and trousers.
Bewildered, every bit as much by the change in him as by the clamouring of her own feelings and the warning bells in her head, Kate wrestled with the folds of fabric, stumbling from the bed and pulling the dressing gown around her as Daniel turned away.
‘Why are you being like this? Are you saying you regret what happened?’
‘I don’t know what we were thinking, behaving like a couple of love-struck newlyweds,’ he snapped. ‘No! Kate, I didn’t mean that. I’m so sorry.’
Tears smarted in her eyes, but when he made to touch her she pushed him away. He immediately took a step back.
‘You felt it too,’ he said bleakly.
‘I don’t know. Yes, if you mean that we were—as if I had been waiting for you all my life, I suppose—isn’t it always like that?’
‘No.’
‘What happened, Daniel? Could it be that we have not—I mean because I have never made love and you cannot have made love for a long time—could it be that?’
‘It’s what I thought at first.’
‘It felt perfectly natural...as if we were made for each other, Daniel.’
‘Don’t!’ He paced over to the window, leaning his shoulders against the shutters. ‘Perhaps it’s a bit like the effect of yoga. Our minds and our bodies are attuned to each other. We’ve spent a great deal of time in each other’s company, almost exclusively in each other’s company, and we have been through a—a traumatic experience. I’ve had a close brush with mortality and you witnessed it. That combination would certainly explain the strength of our feelings. But it can’t be allowed to happen again.’
He made no pretence of not having felt something profound, Kate noted bleakly. If he had pretended, would it have been worse or better? She didn’t want this to be her one and only experience of real lovemaking, but her instinct told her that it would be a huge mistake to make love to Daniel again.
‘Do you agree, Kate?’
She did, though she wasn’t entirely convinced by his explanation, and it irked her, his determination to deny feeling anything for anyone.
‘You don’t think that it might be a simple case of us having inadvertently fallen in love? Fiction becoming truth?’
She had the small satisfaction of his looking as if she had slapped him. But only for a second.
‘This is not a time for jokes. For a start, a person doesn’t just fall in love without realising it.’
His dismissive tone served to rile her. ‘I don’t believe it’s something one can make a conscious decision about, Daniel.’
‘One can, however, make a conscious decision not to fall in love. Ever.’
‘Or not to love at all. Ever. As you have.’
He flinched, but did not look away. ‘As I have. And you know why.’
The fight went out of her. She shivered, unable to believe that only a few moments ago she had been in the throes of ecstasy. She would be a complete fool to allow any feelings she had for this cold-hearted man to rule her—and she wasn’t even sure what those feelings were. She had her whole life before her, and it was entirely hers to do with as she saw fit. She was not going to spend it pining for a man who refused to give a damn about anything. Save his work.
‘We have just over two months to get through,’ Kate said, ‘and, thanks to you and Sir Marcus, we have a party to host and a role as the honeymooning Lord and Lady Elmswood to play out. Perhaps we should have our quarrel sooner rather than later.’
‘Don’t be like that, Kate.’
‘What would you prefer me to be like, Daniel? I’m not like you. I can’t just close the door on one life because it’s served its purpose and walk away. I’m not playing a part.’
‘I was not acting when we—You can’t imagine that was acting?’
‘No, I don’t. I think it was one of the rare occasions when you were yourself. But it’s over now, isn’t it? We don’t want any feelings that Daniel or Kate might have to get in the way of your marvellous career and your wonderful other life.’
‘This isn’t worthy of you.’
‘No, it’s not. But I’ve never been in this situation, so you’ll have to bear with me.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Once again he moved towards her, but he took only one step. She had no need to ward him off. ‘We both need some time to restore our equilibrium.’
‘If by that you mean we both need time alone to reflect, then I agree. I’ll see you later.’
Kate unlocked the door and made her way hurriedly to her own room. Only when she threw herself on the bed and caught herself listening did she realise she was waiting, hoping for him to come after her.
She rolled over, pulling the pillow over her head, and burst into tears.
In the library, later that day, Daniel could not concentrate on any of the books he had picked out to read. Dammit, why had he not foreseen this eventuality? But why should he have? It had never happened before.
Because he’d never met anyone like Kate before.
Distracted, he fell into a reverie, replaying every moment of their lovemaking that morning. It was the way she looked at him, looked right at him, as if she saw something no one else ever had. That was the worst thing. And also the best thing.
‘Dammit!’
His instinct was to run, but he couldn’t run. He was trapped here until Sir Marcus released him. And he didn’t want to go—not yet. Somehow, without realising, he had started counting on having three full months with Kate, and he still wanted every day of them. Though at the same time he wanted to close the door on what had happened, forget about Elmswood, make a fresh start.
Without Kate? Without ever seeing Kate again?
The thought actually made him feel physically sick.
Decisive action—that was what was required. He would write to his lawyer, find out who, if he died today, would inherit all Kate’s hard work, and then make sure that they did not. That ought to make him feel better, but it didn’t.
Pacing the room, he stubbed his toe on the library steps. His own fault for not folding them up. After Kate had moved them here from the morning room he’d found them neatly folded every morning, for the first two or three mornings. Just to be contrary, if not downright petty, he’d made a point of unfolding them. So she’d stopped folding them away. Now she had inadvertently made her point. He’d tell her so. She’d appreciate that.
No, perhaps not.
He tried to picture Kate in a half-made gown, standing patiently on the top step while her gown was pinned, though he couldn’t picture the niece doing the pinning. Eloise? She was the dressmaker.
They all had red hair, Gillian’s girls, and according to Kate they were beautiful. As their mother had been.
He had not thought of Gillian in years—until he had become imprisoned here. She had already effectively been dead to him when news of her drowning had reached him. Now, once again, despite his best efforts, he was being dragged back into the past, to the life he had walked away from, and to the person he was determined he’d never be again.
Exasperated, Daniel pulled the steps over to the corner bookshelf. There was a book somewhere on the top shelf, he dimly recalled, about Ancient Egypt. It might inspire him to invent some artefacts for his explorer alter ego to boast about at the garden party they had not yet arranged. It was a folio edition, so it must be one of those lying in a stack on their sides.
He ran his finger down the spines. The Egyptian book was at the bottom. He tried to pull it out, but the other books came with it and went crashing to the floor. Instinctively, he moved, almost overbalancing, clutching just in time at the shelf.
And then he remembered it happening before—just like this. Save that he had fallen that time, tumbling to the floor along with the books. He could see his much younger self right there on the floor, laughing despite the jarring thud of his landing. Leo was there, laughing too, dusting him down. And then the door opened and his father came in.
Daniel frowned over at the door, but he couldn’t remember what had happened next. Picking up the volumes, he set the Egyptian book down on a table and returned the rest to the top shelf.
It was nothing more than a stray memory, triggered by the act of retrieving a book, but it had decided him. What happened today had been a warning. No matter how he tried to disguise it, attribute it to compatibility or blame it on his brush with mortality, his feelings for Kate already ran too deep—and, even worse than that, he knew she felt the same for him.
No wonder his prosaic explanation had hurt her. A person could choose not to fall in love, he’d said, and he believed that. They were not in love, the pair of them—not yet. And he had to ensure they didn’t tumble over the precipice.
A brief trip to the past would cure him of any inclination to do that. It would be painful, but it would be well worth it.