Chapter Eight

Another round of lightning flashed outside the window. Adrian could hear the patter of rain on the roof and the gray stone walls of the cottage. The fire crackled and an ember hissed against the iron grate in the hearth.

A few feet away, Elissa lay on the sofa, her head nestled into the soft goose-down pillow he had found in one of the chests, her golden hair dry now and shining like a halo, framing her face and making her look unbearably young and lovely.

His body throbbed with desire for her. Inside his breeches, he was hard and aching, his shaft rigid with need. He wanted to go to her, to peel the blanket away from her body and bare her breasts, to stare at their intriguing paleness until he got his fill. He wanted to touch her all over, to kiss her until she moaned his name and begged him to take her. He wouldn’t, he knew, not tonight, not when she had been injured and he had given his word.

“Adrian?”

He knew she wasn’t sleeping. He had noticed her soft, furtive glances as if she had reached out and touched him.

“Yes, love, what is it?”

“Do you think … do you think if you might bring your chair and sit over here?”

His body throbbed painfully and he shifted in his chair. God, it was nearly impossible to restrain himself sitting four feet away. “Considering your state of dress—or undress, as it were—it’s probably not a good idea.”

She sat up on the sofa, holding the blanket over her bosom, the gently rounded curves barely visible at the edges of the fabric. “My neck is sore … from the fall I suppose. I thought perhaps … that you might rub it a little for me.”

His brow arched up. He knew women well. Too damned well. This one was smarter than most. Did she know what she was asking? He took in a long, steadying breath and slowly let it out. Perhaps not. Perhaps he was reading more into her words than she intended, hearing what he wanted to hear instead of what she meant.

He sighed and came out of his chair, carrying it over closer to the sofa. “You would tax the honor of a saint, my lady.” She only smiled, removed the two delicate pearl ear bobs she had been wearing, and set them on the table, then moved over on the sofa, giving him room to sit down.

“Are you certain you feel well enough for this?”

“I feel fine now.”

He nodded. At any rate, this would keep her awake for a while, and sleeping wasn’t the best idea with an injury of the head. He settled his hands over her bare shoulders and her body stiffened a bit, but as he kneaded the muscles and tendons, she began to relax.

She made a soft little purring sound, moved her head back and forth, rolled her shoulders from side to side. “That feels wonderful.”

That was certainly the truth. Her skin felt as soft as rose petals, the small fine bones in her neck and shoulders exquisitely feminine beneath his big hands. Her short blond hair felt like silk where it brushed against his fingers. She turned her head a little to the side so that he might have better access, and his thumb moved along the line of her jaw. A fine tremor ran through her, and she turned her face into his hand, pressing a soft kiss against his callused palm.

“My lady,” he said, his voice thick and rough. “There are limits to even my considerable control.”

“Would you … would you kiss me, Adrian?”

His body went rock hard. “Kiss you? Good Christ…!” He didn’t wait a moment more, just bent his head and captured her mouth in a fiery kiss that made the blood surge into his groin. His pulse was pounding, throbbing against his temples, and an ache tugged low in his belly. “I want you, Elissa. God, you know how much I want you.” He kissed her again, cupped her face between his palms and took her deeply with his tongue. A soft moan rose from her throat and her arms slid around his neck.

“Let me make love to you,” he whispered against her ear. “Release me from my vow.” When she didn’t respond, he kissed her again, deeply, thoroughly, till he could feel the quick rasp of her breath, the fierce hammer of her heart.

“Say it,” he coaxed. “Say you want me, Elissa.”

“Yes…” she whispered. “I want you. Make love to me, Adrian.”

It was all the prodding he needed. He had played the part of gentleman long enough, longer than he would have with any other woman. Elissa wanted him and he wanted her. There was no one here to stop him and he meant to have her. His hand found the top of the blanket and he eased it down to her waist, baring her breasts as he had dreamed. He paused and drew away, allowing himself to look at them.

“Beautiful…” he whispered, reaching out to cup one. It was heavy on the bottom, elegantly curved and crested with a soft pink nipple. He took the end between his thumb and finger, pebbling it gently, and looked up to see a warm flush heating Elissa’s cheeks.

“Perhaps we should blow out the lamp,” she said softly, glancing away.

“I wish to see you. I have thought of nothing else for days.” He leaned forward, prepared to take her nipple into his mouth, but she stopped him with a hand against his shoulder.

“If that is your wish, then I should like to see you as well.”

He smiled then, pleased at her words. “All right, sweeting. I hope you approve.” In minutes he had stripped away his soggy shirt and boots, his damp nankeen riding breeches. Naked, he sat on the sofa beside her.

In the glow of the fire and the candle on the table, he could see the wonder in her face as her eyes traveled over his body, as well as a soft flush of embarrassment. He thought again that her aging husband must have taught her little of the art of love, and in an odd way he was glad.

“You’re beautiful,” she whispered, a slender hand coming up to touch him, her fingers threading through the curly dark hair on his chest. “Like one of Michelangelo’s statues. Even your flesh … it is warm but it is as smooth and solid as marble.”

Adrian glanced away, slightly embarrassed. “I’m glad I please you.” Oddly, he was. Somehow it seemed important that she approve, and though he had never had a woman complain of his body, he had never known one to look at him the way Elissa looked at him now.

Her fingers trailed over the ridges on his stomach, and unconsciously the muscles there tightened. Her hand trembled faintly and she looked up at him from beneath her lashes. Her fingers traced an ancient saber scar and her gaze surveyed the spot then moved steadily lower, trailing down to his hardened arousal.

Her face went from rosy to pale. “You are … you are much larger than I had imagined.”

Adrian chuckled softly. “I realize you are slender of build and that it has been some time since you were with a man, but we’ll take it slow and easy and it shouldn’t be a problem.”

She started to say something else, but Adrian silenced her with a kiss. In minutes, she was kissing him back, her breasts pressing into his hands, her nipples pebble-hard and aching for his attentions. Outside the window the storm crackled and lightning flared. Rain pelted the roof above his head.

Adrian no longer noticed. He was moving with single-minded purpose, working to attain the goal he had set for himself the moment he had seen her lying in the big four-poster bed—to impale himself between her creamy thighs and finally make her his.

Elissa arched her back, a soft moan escaping, fierce heat coursing through her body. When Adrian bent his head to take her nipple into his mouth, she laced her fingers in his thick, dark hair. His kisses made her tremble. His hands sent currents of pleasure across her skin, and everywhere he touched, she felt as if she burned. Her heart was pounding, her blood pulsing. Her nipples ached, and there was a slick, odd dampness building in the place between her legs.

Desire made her dizzy. The feel of his body pressed against her, the solid strength of muscle over bone, made her ache for the touch of his mouth and tongue. Dear God, she couldn’t have imagined!

And yet through the haze of pleasure, she felt the edge of fear. She had never known the touch of a man before, couldn’t imagine what it must feel like to have a body as powerful as Adrian’s tearing into her own slender frame. She knew there was pain the first time. Now that she had seen how big a man he was, she feared that pain would go beyond anything she was prepared for.

Her emotions swung in and out, vacillating from the height of burning passion, to the depths of icy fear. Adrian pressed her down on the sofa and his hand moved between her legs, urging them to part for him, then gently probing, separating the folds of her sex. He slid a finger inside and she squirmed beneath him, feeling the tightness, the unfamiliar intrusion, embarrassed and at the same time excited.

But even with the warm throb of pleasure, she couldn’t help wondering how a man as large as Adrian could possibly fit inside her.

He stretched her a little, preparing her, it seemed, then his finger began to work the small, tight bud at the entrance to her passage. Pleasure shot through her. Dampness slid into her core. She felt him probe deeply again, felt the rhythm of his skillful stroking, and the pleasure built, pulsing in waves through her body. Adrian kissed her deeply, thrusting his tongue into her mouth even as he parted her legs and positioned himself above her, the tip of his arousal poised to thrust inside.

“Adrian?” she whispered, fear beginning to surface even through the building waves of heat.

“Easy, love.” He pressed himself a little deeper, stretching her, her muscles tightening around him, her body going stiff against the intrusion. She felt filled to the point of bursting, pinned beneath his heavy weight, and suddenly wildly afraid.

“Adrian! Oh, dear God! Please don’t—” His mouth came down in a fiery kiss that silenced her frantic plea. She tried to pull away from him, but he held her fast, a hand sliding under her buttocks, cupping her and bringing her more fully against him. He eased himself forward, spreading her legs even wider, thrusting himself deeper, and terror burst the last sweet bubble of pleasure that remained.

She tried to cry out, tried to shove him away, but instead he surged forward, tearing into her until white-hot pain shot through her body and a well of tears sprang into her eyes.

Poised on his elbows, Adrian went still, his body trembling as he fought for control, his skin damp with perspiration. He drew away to look at her and fury blazed in his eyes.

“For God’s sake—you’re a virgin!”

She blinked and the tears rolled down her cheeks. “I—I didn’t think it would hurt so much.”

“Bloody hell!” Clenching his jaw, he began to pull out, beads of perspiration forming in the dark hair at his temple. Elissa gasped as he stood up and cold air rushed over her bare skin. Embarrassment made the heat rise into her cheeks. Adrian didn’t seem to notice. Naked, he tossed a blanket over her, turned away and began to drag on his clothes with quick, jerky, obviously angry motions. When he finally turned to face her, fury seethed from every pore.

“A damnable virgin! You’re no countess! You’ve never been with a man—you couldn’t possibly have been married. Who the devil are you?”

Misery seemed to swallow her. She had thought this whole thing through—how could it have turned out so wrong? She lifted her chin, fought to gather her composure. “I—I’m exactly who I said I was, the Countess von Langen. My husband was … was old, that is all. We never … we never … He was not capable of making love.”

His mouth went thin. “You told me in no uncertain terms he was a virile, passionate man.”

“I—I didn’t want you to think badly of him.”

“You’re lying. I can see it in your eyes. Who are you?”

“I’m the Countess von Langen.”

“You’re a liar.” He rounded on her, so angry his eyes appeared a dark blackish green. “Just as you were lying that day in the hall outside the ambassador’s bedchamber. You may have fooled the others, but if you thought to fool me, you chose the wrong man.” He reached down and gripped her arms. “I want to know who you are.”

“He was old, I tell you. He was feeble. A-ask the duchess—she’ll tell you it’s the truth.”

“The duchess believes what you want her to believe. I’m not sure how you managed to dupe her, but I don’t doubt that you have. Tell me who you are. Tell me now or I shall go to Pettigru and tell him my suspicions. There is every chance he’ll believe you are a pretty French spy. God only knows what the authorities will do to you. Is that what you want?”

“No!” Her hands were shaking. She was starting to tremble all over. She wasn’t a spy. She was trying to catch one! How could this be happening? “Please, Adrian, I beg you. You mustn’t tell Pettigru. You mustn’t tell anyone.”

Adrian looked at her hard. “Then tell me who you are.”

“I … I cannot. Can you not trust me? Can you not simply believe that I am no spy?”

“You expect me to trust you when you have lied at every turn?” Adrian studied Elissa’s face, read her fear, her growing uncertainty. The girl had made a mistake. She had underestimated him badly. Her look said she knew it—and that she would do whatever it took to correct the error she had made.

He smiled wolfishly. Countess or not, spy or not, he had ways of discovering the truth. In the meantime, he still wanted her in his bed.

“All right, Countess, you wish me to keep your secret?”

“Yes…” she whispered.

He picked up one of the ear bobs she had left lying on the table and studied it in the firelight. “I’ll keep my silence on one condition.”

“W-what is that?”

He tossed the shiny pearl back on the table. “What we started tonight is not finished. I want you—whoever it is you are. I’ll keep your secret if you promise you will come to me—whenever, wherever I wish. Not ten minutes later, not later that night, but the moment I send you a summons.”

Her face looked as white as the candle burning in front of her. “I could not possibly…”

“No? Then I shall go to Pettigru as soon as we are returned.”

Her chin went up. Color replaced the pallor in her cheeks. “You are spoiled and arrogant, Colonel Kingsland. You command and expect me to obey. Do you always get your way?”

“Hardly,” he said, thinking of the past, his lonely years in boarding school, the nights he had spent wishing he could go home. “I intend, however, to have my way in this.”

She glanced toward the fire, her eyes on the flickering flames. “Then I shall have to do as you say. You have left me no other choice.”

Adrian simply nodded. “I’ll give you a couple of days to recover from your … experience … this evening. Monday night I shall expect you to accompany me wherever I might wish.”

She nodded faintly, and Adrian turned away, striding off toward the window to check on the progress of the storm. On the morrow, he would send a courier to Vienna. There was a man there he had used before, an investigator of sorts who would make discreet inquiries into the lady’s past.

Whoever she was, he would soon know the truth and hopefully the extent of her deceit. In the meantime, he would make her pay for that deceit with her sweetly desirable little body.

“The storm has slackened,” he said to her over his shoulder. “I think we can safely return.”

She glanced toward her clothes, drying on the chair before the fire. “I shall dress, then … if you don’t mind.”

He gave her a hard, unrepentant smile. “I don’t mind in the least. As a matter of fact I’ll be happy to help you.” He crossed to the fire, dragged her clothes from the chair, and tossed them in her direction, but he made no move to turn around.

“Won’t you please—”

“No.”

Tears glistened in her eyes but she turned and quickly brushed them away. Still, the sight of them suddenly made his chest feel tight. God’s blood, the woman—whoever she was—had the damnedest effect on him.

“I’ll see to Minotaur,” he finally said, his voice a little gruff, relenting though he didn’t know why. Perhaps it was the sight of her virgin’s blood on the blanket, silently accusing him, or the memory of how he had hurt her in his ruthless disposal of her innocence.

Bloody hell! The girl deserved what she got and more. And until he discovered the truth about her, he intended to see that she got it.

*   *   *

A soft knock drew the duchess’s attention from the darkness outside her bedchamber window. It was nearly midnight. She had retired to bed, yet she hadn’t been able to sleep. Worry for Elissa kept her awake and she had finally gone to sit beside the fire, keeping an ear cocked toward the door. She had left word that should the countess return, no matter the hour, she was to be informed.

Her little maid, Gretchen, opened the door. “She is safe, Your Grace. She suffered a fall but Lord Wolvermont found her. They took shelter and waited out the storm.”

Relief trickled through her. At least she was home and no longer in danger. “Check on her, Gretchen. See if there is anything she needs before she goes to bed. Tell her I am glad that she is safe and that I shall be down to see her first thing in the morning.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” The woman left, and Marie felt the last of her tension drain away. With a sigh she made her way to the bed and slid gratefully beneath the covers. She had been right in leaving the task of finding Elissa to the colonel. She had seen the worry in his intense green eyes. She knew the man would not stop until he found her.

Elissa was returned and yet she was worried about her. The girl was obviously attracted to the colonel, and Marie knew his rakish reputation. She hoped her old friend’s daughter had the good sense to stay away from a man like the baron, but in truth, she wasn’t so sure.

*   *   *

Elissa lay awake far into the night. Her breasts still tingled and felt oddly swollen. Her body throbbed painfully where the colonel’s thrusting hardness had nearly rent her in two. She grimaced to think of it, embarrassed by her actions and their disastrous end; disappointed, though she was loath to admit it, that making love had been so abysmally unpleasant.

She had made a mistake last night—a bad one. She had misjudged the colonel, discovered too late that he wasn’t so easily fooled as she had believed. Even the duchess wouldn’t be able to convince him. Besides, she had asked too much of her father’s friend already. She didn’t want the duchess immersed any deeper in her lies.

Elissa tossed and turned, awakened several times, then fought to return to sleep. Morning finally came, sunlight slicing through the crack in the bed hangings so brightly she awoke with a pounding headache in back of her eyes. The dull pain persisted between her legs but it was fainter now, mostly a nagging memory of the fool she had made of herself.

Sophie came into her room sometime later, pulled the bed curtains, and delivered the duchess’s command that she spend the day in bed—news she gratefully accepted.

“Her Grace will be down in half an hour,” Sophie said. “She wishes to be certain you suffer no ill effects from your fall.”

Elissa sighed. She wished she didn’t have to face her. She wished she didn’t have to face anyone ever again—especially not the colonel. She wished she could simply languish away inside her room, wallowing in oceans of self-pity.

Instead, with a Herculean effort, she propped herself up against the headboards. “Hand me my wrapper, Sophie. I refuse to greet the duchess lying here like a great lump in bed.”

Sophie complied, bringing her a quilted blue satin robe, and Elissa drew it on over her night rail. Seating herself in front of the mirror, she poured water from the porcelain pitcher into the basin, washed her face, then pulled the bristle brush through her hair.

“Much better, my lady.” Sophie smiled. “Her Grace will be pleased to see you are practically back to your old self.”

Practically. Certainly not completely. She doubted she ever would be. Not when every time she closed her eyes, she felt Adrian’s hands moving over her body. She remembered his deep, plundering kiss, and the feel of his mouth on her breasts. Elissa sighed to think of it. In the beginning, love-making had seemed so incredibly wonderful. Why couldn’t it have ended with the kisses and the touching? Why was it so much of life turned out to be a bitter disappointment?

The countess knocked and Sophie let her in, then made her way downstairs to fetch them some refreshment.

“You ought to be in bed,” the duchess said, eyeing the robe and the stool where Elissa had been sitting. She flashed a stern look down her nose. “I shall expect you to spend most of the day tucked securely beneath the covers.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“You are looking well enough. How do you feel?”

The ache between her legs throbbed annoyingly just then, and a slight flush rose into her cheeks. “I—I’m fine, Your Grace. Colonel Kingsland rode to my rescue once again. I should not have fared so well had he not been able to find me.”

Shrewd gray blue eyes ran over her from head to foot. “You were out there for quite some time. Your colonel played the gentleman, I trust?”

The warmth rose again, but Elissa fought it down. “He was quite gallant, Your Grace.” I was the one who behaved like a harlot. Dear God and now he expected her to continue behaving like one.

“He is a very handsome man, my dear. He is wealthy and charming, yet I caution you. I am not so old I don’t remember how it was with men like that. Before I was betrothed to my late, dear husband, God rest his soul, I fancied myself in love with a man much like your colonel.”

“He isn’t my colonel,” Elissa said softly. “He is … he is merely an acquaintance.”

The duchess eyed her with a glance that was far too knowing, as if she read the meaning of her unwelcome blushes. “Nevertheless, it is imperative you understand him. Women mean little to a man like that. Even should he care for you in some way, the military is his home. It is all that really matters. All he lives for. It is not the sort of life I would recommend.”

“No, it is not at all the life I would choose for myself.”

“A woman needs a home and family. Children to bring her joy when times grow troubled. Be careful of your colonel, my dear. Enjoy his admiration, but keep your wits about you. If you do, perhaps you will survive this little adventure of yours and emerge unscathed, as your mother would wish.”

Unscathed. After last night, it was far too late for that. Her innocence was lost. Still, her heart had survived oddly intact. Considering the feelings she had begun to develop for Adrian, she felt fortunate in that.

“I shall remember what you have said, Your Grace.” She would remember. She would keep the demands the colonel made on her body separate from the feeling he had once stirred in her heart. Should it come to it, she would have to do that with Steigler.

Surely she could do the same with the Baron Wolvermont.