Beloved Page 8

  “In Mama’s book,” Ella continued when she must have decided he would not respond. “I have not been allowed to read it yet. She says I shall do so when I am betrothed. But I’ve been told by others who have read it that it says a woman should learn to enjoy the man she loves as much as—”

  “I know what it says.”

  She came to stand before him. “So you’ve read it?” Her perfect skin glowed. Her eyes glistened with sincerity. “How very enlightened of you. I understand very few men will touch the volume.”

  Every man in London hadn’t been able to wait to “touch” the volume. “I’ve read it.”

  Ella looked directly up into his face. “And did you consider it to have merit?” If she was repulsed by him, she hid the fact well.

  “I considered it… enlightening.”

  “Enlightening how?”

  He was growing hard again. No, he was already hard, had been so unceasingly since he’d first touched her. “There is insight into the female mind, I believe. Interesting from an academic point of view.” Surely her apparent comfort while standing unclothed before him could not be natural? But then…Yes, but then.

  Ella was frowning. “From an academic point of view? How very cool. A young lady who spoke of it said she experienced certain—sensations. I can hardly wait to discover its effect upon me. Anyway, I believe you found it more than academically interesting. Did it make your body feel some sort of longings?”

  “Longings?”

  Without warning, she stroked the length of his rod through his trousers and tucked her hands beneath to support him. “Like this, I suppose. I have considered the subject, and I think this swelling takes place because of longing. I’ve noted a similar reaction in a number of gentlemen—always when they are in the company of females who appear to engage them.”

  She amazed him. “Indeed,” he said.

  “Oh, yes. And the longings must come from some connection of the mind to the body. Those connections might well be caused by a certain stimulation that might arise from a discussion of a man and woman together in a condition of love, don’t you think? As is presented in Mama’s book, I understand?”

  He thought he was about to disgrace himself, and to lose control—in either order. “Very likely. It’s inappropriate for you to, er, handle me as you are, Ella.”

  She squeezed, a look of deep concentration filming her features with distraction. “Odd,” she murmured.

  Saber gritted his teeth. “Odd?”

  Again she squeezed. “Definitely odd.”

  “How so?” He knew a moment’s deep uncertainty. He also knew an even deeper need to remove his trousers and enter where his fingers had already ventured this evening.

  Ella squeezed him yet again. “It responds to the touch. I mean, it actually, um, pops up whenever it’s been compressed.”

  Saber snatched her hand away. “This is an unbelievable conversation. I’m going to assist you into your clothes and you will then go back to the soiree.”

  She turned from him, picked up the lamp, and walked to the bed.

  Her straight back narrowed to the waist and her small bottom was round and smooth…. White stockings secured with pink satin, rose-encrusted garters worked an erotic spell on his senses.

  “Obviously nothing can be the same as it was before this evening,” she remarked. “And I, for one, am exceedingly glad.”

  How would he manage to assist her into her clothes without losing his head to passion again? He was a bounder, a man with nothing to offer, yet who had taken liberties with one who was innocent at least of heart.

  “Your generosity humbles me, Ella.”

  She reached the bed, calmly used the steps to climb upon the mattress, and sat with her feet dangling over the edge.

  “You have quelled your natural feelings in order to help me with mine,” he told her. “That is generous.”

  She gathered her chemise and held it to her. “Come here, please, Saber. I need your assistance.”

  And he needed strength—very possibly much more strength than he could hope to possess. “Perhaps you could slip on that garment. Then I could tie—”

  “Out of the question. You must help me.”

  Keeping his face averted, he approached.

  “What are you doing? Saber, look at me!”

  Perhaps his face wasn’t so very terrifying—not to a young woman of apparently strong sensibilities. But she could not see where the true scars remained, remained forever open.

  “I am cold.” Her voice rose a little.

  Repentant, Saber went to her and took the flimsy, lace-trimmed white gauze thing from her. “I cannot imagine that this would bring a great deal more warmth than your own skin.”

  Her hands, shooting around his neck, stopped his frowning perusal of the garment. Ella pulled his hair away from the scars on his face.

  He lowered his eyelids.

  “A cruel thing,” she remarked softly. “A cruel, senseless attack on the most handsome face I ever knew.”

  He closed his eyes entirely. “Now you know why I prefer the darkness. Why I frequent a dim, old men’s club where my disfigurement is of little note.”

  “Your disfigurement.” Very gently, she smoothed her fingers along the raised white scar that made a crescent from his hairline, through his brow—blessedly missing anything but the corner of his eye—to plunge across his cheekbone and the side of his jaw. “An annoying little thing. But no doubt with a great deal of soothing—the kind of soothing it will receive from me—there will be some relaxing of the skin.”

  Saber tried to turn his face aside, but she quickly slipped a hand over his cheek. “Open your eyes, please.”

  He did so at once.

  She did not flinch. There was no evidence of disgust in her expression now. “Does this hurt?” She rested a thumb on the webbing at the corner of his eye.

  “No,” he told her truthfully. “And your eyes are not touched. I thank God for that.”

  “As do I,” he confessed. “I should hate to burden some poor servant with the care of a blind man.”

  “I would gladly have become that servant,” she told him. “I meant that looking into your eyes is the greatest joy I can imagine.” She shivered.

  “You are chilled, Ella. Come, let me help with your gown now.”

  “I should prefer that you hold me.”

  He would also prefer to hold her, but he was, after all, nothing more than a man—a man who had suppressed carnal needs for far too long.

  Ella wriggled closer. She wriggled close enough to thread her arms around his body and settle her face beneath his chin. Her breasts pressed insistently against his chest.

  “Ella, my sweet,” he said, and immediately hoped she did not hear the desperation behind the endearment. “It isn’t seemly for us to remain so.”

  “Nothing that has passed between us is seemly. I am not a green girl. I know perfectly well that my reputation is now ruined.”

  He held his breath. She spoke as if she had obliterated her past. Was it possible for such a thing to occur? Saber rested his chin on top of her head. “I intend to ensure that your reputation survives this evening. You will return to the company via the route you took to get here. And you will explain that you wandered off and couldn’t find your way back.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  Her nipples were hard against his skin.

  His rod was hard, very hard.

  “Pomeroy Wokingham is the man who is trying to get my father to agree to give him my hand in marriage.”

  Saber grew absolutely still. “Pomeroy?”

  “Yes. I told you someone was to approach Papa. It was Pomeroy and his parent. And downstairs at the soiree he tried to take me out into the gardens—without Mama. He said Papa told him he was at liberty to walk with me. I do not believe him.”

  “Neither do I,” Saber said thoughtfully. The Wokinghams were well-known among a certain set. Saber had heard talk of them from Devlin, who counted a
number of questionable types among his acquaintances. “The Wokinghams shall never get their hands on you, my love.” The father and son were said to have a predilection for sharing whatever female they procured.

  “I like that.”

  He heard Ella only dimly. “What do you like?”

  “That you called me your love. You see, we are both of a mind. We both know that this is absolutely what is meant to be. We will be together now. Nothing can separate us again.”

  There could be no question of the Wokinghams interfering with this girl.

  Saber took in a shuddering breath. “It is imperative that you go back downstairs at once.”

  “Not unless you come with me.”

  He turned cold. “Out of the question.”

  “Then it is out of the question for me to go.”

  “Don’t be childish.”

  “Don’t you dare refer to me as childish! I have waited four years for this moment. I shall never allow you to leave me again.” For emphasis, she placed a hard, openmouthed kiss on his lips. “There.” She drew her face back triumphantly. The evidence of their kisses showed on her swollen lips and his beard had reddened her smooth skin. What could be done about her tumbled hair, he could not guess.

  “You have to save me from the Hon. Pom and his revolting father.”

  Protective resolve, and an urge to seek the shelter of familiar shadows, warred within Saber. “Struan would not give you to such creatures.”

  “They are wealthy. Papa said as much. And well-connected.”

  “And out of the question,” Saber retorted before he could temper his reaction.

  Ella stroked his arms. She scooted up until she could plant kiss after kiss along the wretched evidence of his failure as a soldier, as a leader and protector of men.

  Saber grasped her waist. “Ella—”

  “Hush. This is very good for you. Mothers tell their children that kisses will make them better.”

  He laughed without mirth. “I am most definitely not a child. And you, my dear, spectacular woman, are not my mother.”

  “Of course not. How silly of you to be literal. I merely meant that if mothers have said such a thing for so long, then it must be so. Oh, Saber, I wish there was no need to leave this room—ever.”

  “We cannot have very many of our wishes,” he told her. “They’ve been telling lies about you, you know.”

  “Have they?”

  “I know they absolutely cannot be true.”

  His mind responded sluggishly. The tips of his fingers played over the soft skin of her thigh above a stocking.

  “Obviously there is no courtesan in your life. You would not ever consider having anything to do with such a creature.”

  Saber withdrew his hand.

  “I heard those silly men talking about it to you at Sibley’s. But you were just too kind to tell them they were being foolish.”

  “What are you talking about, Ella?” He had an unnerving notion that he knew.

  “Countess Perruche. I asked Mama about her and she said the woman is a French courtesan and considered practiced in…Well, I don’t know exactly what she’s practiced in, but it didn’t sound at all suitable. But there is definitely talk about you and this Margot.”

  So the chatter was all over London, was it? So much the better. He and Margot had designed matters exactly that way.

  “We shall soon put that tongue-wagging nonsense to rest,” Ella said. “I’ll help you with it at once.”

  “Ella, my dear friend, it is absolutely time for you to return to the others.” With that he put her firmly from him, took up the chemise, and slipped it over her head. When she raised her arms, the sight of her all but brought him to his knees again. He would not be able to continue this incredible restraint much longer. For that reason, among others, this temptation must be removed.

  Once she was dressed, Saber sat her on a stool before a small glass and sent up thanks for the silver-backed brush and comb that rested on a crystal tray atop the dressing table. He concentrated on brushing out her hair.

  Her light laughter brought his attention to her face. “What amuses you so?”

  “You. Playing the maid. Although I must say that no maid ever brought me such delight by simply brushing my hair. Now we shall see how you do with the braids.”

  He handed her the brush and comb. “We shall watch you braid your hair, little vixen. I’ll stand ready with these terrifying pin things.”

  While she deftly plaited her hair, Saber retrieved his shirt and made a fair job of reknotting his abused neckcloth. “I will make sure you are safely on your way,” he told her, slipping on his waistcoat.

  “You will take me,” she told him serenely. “I shall then go to work on these dreadful rumors about you and Countess Perruche—at once.”

  He could not talk to Ella about Margot. The relationship he shared with the French woman was something he was not ready to explain. “Ella,” he said patiently. “You have helped me tonight.”

  She grinned. “I think you have helped me far more. But soon the time will come when I shall read Mama’s book and know exactly how to accomplish my part of the bargain.”

  He paused in the act of putting on his black jacket. “Bargain? There is no bargain. Now you understand why I could not possibly go about again. And why it has been necessary for me to stay away from you. Despite my misgivings, I don’t believe I shall always regret what has passed between us. Eventually I may find great pleasure in the recalling of it.”

  “You will not have to recall it.” She bounced to her feet and twirled. “See? Good as new. But very different inside, of course.”

  “Ella—”

  “You will not have to recall it because we shall repeat the event at least daily—possibly many times daily—from now on.”

  Saber gaped.

  Her laughter rang in the room. “Oh, you goose of a man. Did you really think a silly old scar would make me stop loving you? You did, didn’t you? In Scotland, when you sent me away from Devlin’s house, you made sure I did not see the scars. And again at Sibley’s. Your face was always in the shadows. I should be angry with you for thinking so little of me, but I cannot be angry with you.”

  “Thank you,” he said through dry lips. “How fortunate for both of us that early adversity made me a very determined person. In fact, my lord, I find your scars quite dashing. My goodness, I shall have to discourage all the females who will swarm about you. You will turn every head.”

  Saber did not smile. “I have had experience of the way in which I turn heads. I have seen the distaste. And you are recovered now, little one, but I have not forgotten that at first you all but collapsed at the sight of me.”

  “Collapsed?” She looked from him to the chair where he’d pleasured her, and back. “I was shocked, yes. A natural thing when one—thanks to a certain person’s lack of trust—a natural thing when one sees the evidence of suffering on a beloved one’s face, on his body—without warning. And I did not almost collapse, you twaddle-brain. I tripped on the wretched carpet and all but fell. You should have been concerned with catching me, not worrying about your silly little scars. So there!”

  Her audacity—and her vehemence—rendered him speechless yet again.

  “Now,” she said, slipping her hand through his arm. “Are we ready to go down and deal with what must be dealt with?”

  “I …” Visions of Pomeroy Wokingham rose abruptly and wholly clear. Struan wouldn’t consider giving Ella to that libertine, would he? “Very well. I shall accompany you down.”

  “Of course you will. We will immediately set about stilling wicked tongues—and making certain the Hon. Pom turns his designs elsewhere.”

  “I shall take you to Struan and Justine. It has been far too long since I saw them.” A brief flush of warm anticipation surprised him. He’d taught himself not to think of the relatives who had once been so close and so dear.

  “They are going to be delighted,” Ella bubbled, urging him to
ward the door. “Of course, Mama has always expected that this would come about. I have no idea what Papa may have thought, but I’m certain he will be happy for us.”

  Saber halted before the door and turned to Ella. “Happy for us?”

  “When we announce that we are to be married!”

  When he could speak, Saber said, “Ella, of course I have caused you to… No, Ella, no. For your sake I will return you to the company and ensure you are not bothered by further advances that do not please you. But, my dear one, that is all that may be between us.”

  Her lips parted and he saw her teeth come together.

  He had to make her understand. “I … No, I confess that I did want to be with you as I was tonight. As I was, and more—much more. When I thought I set out to merely teach you to detest the sight of me, I deluded myself. For that I must bear the guilt. You are blameless. But no harm is done, and I hope you will forgive me.”

  “F-forgive you?”

  He felt a flooding of resolve. “You have given me so much. I believe it may be possible for me to move about in Society again. If you can bear to look upon me, the rest are without importance.”

  “You promised you would always be my friend,” she whispered.

  “Yes. And I will. I am.”

  “I didn’t know exactly what you meant at the time, but I did later. You meant friend of the kind who shared what we have shared. I thought …I thought you loved me.”

  “I do love you.” His misery was something he did not dare reveal to her. Every word must be carefully chosen. “I love you as a sister.”

  Ella tore her hand from his arm with such force she staggered. “Posh!”

  “I beg your pardon?”