All the Sweet Tomorrows (78 page)

“Vive! Vive!”
shouted the guests, all raising their goblets enthusiastically.

The comte’s toast was followed by many others, and Skye was forced to sit smiling as most of those good wishes called for the newlywed couple to have many children. At one point Adam reached over to take her hand in his, and squeezed it reassuringly. She turned her face to his for a moment, and the warm look in his eyes washed over her, leaving her feeling more loved than she had ever felt in her entire life.

The feast accompanying the toasts was bountiful. As a first course, there were several varieties of pâté and fish freshly caught in the Cher, along with a barrel of oysters brought from the nearby coast and packed in ice. There was goose, and small
game birds, duck and capon, as well as beef and lamb. The estate huntsmen had been most active the last few days and on several open fires turned a wild boar, two red stags, and two roe deer. There were cheeses, and hardcooked eggs, and newly baked breads with tubs of butter, some bowls of cress and lettuce, all to be washed down with good Archambault wine. A last course consisted of newly picked apples and pears and grapes from the orchards and vineyards. A beautiful gâteau of several layers topped by a marzipan bride and groom, the sides of the top layer having alternating marzipan shields bearing the de Marisco and the O’Malley coats of arms, was the
pièce de résistance
of the feast.

Everyone ate until stuffed, and then the villagers danced for the entertainment of the nobility. To the peasants’ delight, Skye and Adam joined the dancers at one point, encouraging the others at the high board to do so, too. Twilight fell, and then night. Torches were lit to brighten the scene and a fat full moon rose to gild the sky. No one wanted to go home, for it was a wonderful party. Finally it seemed that the only way they could get their guests to leave was for the bride and groom to go to bed. Skye was taken off with much ceremony by her mother-in-law and sisters-in-law, and Dame Cecily, who had come with the children.

It was at that moment that Skye missed her faithful Daisy most, but Daisy was back in England expecting a second child. She felt almost shy disrobing before all the other women, but neither Gaby nor her daughters seemed to notice. Dame Cecily, however, gave her an encouraging pat, saying, “I feel certain, dear Skye, that this marriage between you and Adam is one made in Heaven. I did not like it that Queen Elizabeth sent you so far from us the last time.”

“The Queen knows nothing of this marriage yet, dear Dame Cecily,” Skye replied. “Robbie must leave next week for court to bring her word of our nuptials.”

“You’d best send some rich gift along with my brother, not that that’s likely to placate the Queen.” Here she lowered her voice, although of the de Saville women only Gaby could either speak or understand English. “ ’Tis said these marriage negotiations of hers make her fretful and irritable. She does not like to see happiness in others these days.”

Before Skye might answer her old friend, there were cries of delight from the de Saville women as Mignon brought in and displayed Skye’s nightgown for all to see; of pale pink silk, its
low-scooped neckline was part of the molded bodice falling into a simple skirt that swirled about her ankles. The sleeves were long and flowing and deceptively modest. Skye’s petticoats and blouse were quickly taken away and the gown dropped over her head. It slid down her body with a soft hiss of silk.

Gaby and Dame Cecily gasped at the open sensuousness of the gown, but Adam’s sister Clarice spoke for them all, saying,
“Mon Dieu, ma soeur
Skye! Why have we bothered to clothe you? The gown fits you like a skin, and if I know my brother you will not wear it long. Try to see that he does not tear at it in his eagerness.”

“The men are coming,” Musette said from the door.

“Quickly then,” Gaby cried as her wits returned, “into bed,
ma fille!
I do not believe that Adam would appreciate others seeing what is for him alone.”

Skye climbed into the big bed, and with swift fingers drew the pins and silk flowers from her hair and handed them to Dame Cecily. Mignon was instantly there to brush the hair free of tangles. The door to the bedchamber burst open and Adam was pushed into the room by his half-brothers and the other male guests. He wore a silk nightshirt.

“He’s as ready for you as he’ll ever be, Madame de Marisco,” Alexandre de Saville laughed.

“If I had something that lovely waiting for me,” Yves chuckled, “I would not have been so long in getting to bed!”

“Out!” the lord of Lundy roared. “Get out, all of you!”

Gaby stopped to kiss her son, saying as she did so, “You are both so lucky,
mes enfants.”

The bedchamber emptied slowly as the guests straggled out through the salon back into the hall of the château. When he was sure that the last of them was gone, Adam firmly closed the door to their bedchamber, walked back over to the bed, and sat down upon it.

For what seemed a long moment they sat in silence, and then Skye said softly, “My God, it is really true! We are married, Adam!”

He grinned almost boyishly at her, and her heart contracted painfully. “I love you, Skye de Marisco,” he said quietly. “I love you very much.”

“You don’t have to sleep with me if you don’t want to,” she said suddenly. “I will understand.”

“Where else would I sleep, Skye?”

“You know what I mean, Adam!”

“Will it hurt the babe?”

“No.”

“For how long, Skye? You have to tell me these things, for I’ve never been a father before.”

You’re not a father now! she wanted to cry at him in her pain. I can never give you, the man I adore, a child. This is a bastard I carry, and we both know it! Instead, she said, “It varies with each child, Adam. When I get too big and the baby is low, we dare not, but for now there is no harm.”

“Good,” he said, standing up and pulling off the silk garment that they had dressed him in. “For you see, Skye, I intend exercising my marital rights to the fullest.”

Skye swung her own legs from beneath the coverlet and stood up also. Then she turned and, smiling at him, asked, “Do you like the gown,
mon mari?”

His eyes raked slowly down her provocative length, and then he said pleasantly, “If you intend to keep that garment whole, madame, you had best remove it quickly before I rip it off you.”

Slowly Skye slipped the gown from her shoulders, letting it fall to her waist. She hesitated a minute, allowing him a long look at her beautiful breasts before pushing the cloth over her hips and letting it slide to the floor. His mouth twitched appreciatively at her pretty performance as she stepped lightly from the puddle of silk at her feet. Then as boldly as he, she let her eyes sweep his long length.

“You like what you see, madame, I trust,” he said, amused.

“I always have,
mon mari,”
she returned. “Do you like what you see?”

“I always have,” he chuckled. “Now get into bed, dammit, little girl. I need very much to feel your softness against me!”

Slipping back into the bed, she turned toward him to find that his arms were already reaching out to draw her to him. Skye wrapped her arms about her husband’s neck, and sighed with delight. “Dearest Adam,” she whispered to him, “I do love you! You are so wonderfully good to me.” Then she boldly sought his mouth, and he groaned at the hungry touch of her lips, feeling the sparks ignite instantly between them as the kiss deepened and grew until they both drew away breathless.

Pressing her back into the pillows, he tangled his fingers in the night cloud of her hair and kissed her again until her lips ached with the sweetness with which he was filling her. Her breasts began to grow taut with her rising desire, her nipples thrusting up sharply and tingling with their longing. He felt the rounded
push of her against his furred chest, and reaching down with one hand, he caressed the warm little globe of flesh, cupping it in his big hand, rubbing against the nipple with his thumb. Skye shuddered with the pleasure his touch gave her.

Adam laughed, a low and intimate sound of equal pleasure. “You are the most sensual creature I have ever known,
ma femme
. It pleases me that marriage has not turned you into a little prude.” His shaggy dark head dropped so he might take the nipple in his mouth. Slowly he sucked on the tidbit of tender flesh while her fingers kneaded at his neck with increasing urgency. Leisurely he played with both of her beautiful breasts, kissing and touching and loving them with growing ardor. Skye could feel the hot, hard length of him against her leg, and she shuddered again with delighted thoughts of what was to come.

He made love to her that night as if he had never before known her. Slowly he explored her silken flesh as if he had never touched it.
“Ma femme
, my wife,” he called her. “My beautiful bride. Sweet, sweet Skye!” His kisses burned across her body, leaving her shaken and yet yearning for more. Slipping his hand between her thighs, he stroked the softness of her sensitive skin until her legs fell open beneath his tender assault. Toying with her nether lips, he teased her with a single finger that rubbed at the very heart of her femininity until she was squirming and panting beneath his touch.

“Oh, my darling,” she begged him, “let me touch you also!”

“Not yet, sweetheart, but soon,” he promised, and then he turned her over onto her stomach. Slowly his big, warm hands smoothed over her legs and her back and her buttocks and her shoulders, fanning the flames of her burgeoning desire until she moaned low with her hunger. She felt his great weight on her as he placed his body atop hers, pressing her deep into the mattress. His throbbing maleness rubbed suggestively against the halves of her bottom, igniting her passion even further. She could scarcely breathe, but she cared not if only he would possess her.

“Adam! Adam! Please,” she pleaded with him. “I am so hot for you tonight,
mon mari!”

He rolled off her, returning her to her back as he did so, and swung himself around so that his dark head was pressed against her white thigh. Caressing her in leisurely fashion, he said softly, “Now, little girl, now is the time to touch me.”

Skye’s slender hand reached out to return her husband’s gentle caresses, and the feel of him beneath her fingers roused her further. After a while she pushed herself into a half-sitting position,
and turning, he cuddled against her breasts, kissing them lightly while she fondled the hard length of him. She suddenly realized the truth of what he had been telling her all these years. There was no need to rush; the passion that built slowly between them was far more exciting than any she had ever experienced. Finally, when she thought it could be no more wonderful than it was now, Adam pulled Skye beneath him, gently mounted her, and thrust into her warmth. She cried softly with the pleasure his entry gave her, molding him harder against her with the flat of her palms against his smooth back.

“It’s like mulled wine,” he groaned against her mouth. “Being inside of you tonight is like being in hot mulled wine,” and for a moment he couldn’t stir so delicious was the sensation; but then he began to move sensuously on her.

She barely heard him, for his tender possession of her had pushed her into a world of such uninhibited ecstasy that Skye was only aware of wave after wave of rapturous passion sweeping over her and surrounding her. It left her at last feeling totally satisfied and content. “Oh, Adam,” she murmured, “how can it be so good between us?”

And he laughed softly, saying, “How can it not be, sweetheart, when we love each other so?”

Love
. It was the unbreakable bond between them. A bond forged by the fires of experience, of pain and of passion. At Archambault love surrounded them, for the de Saville family was a close one whose members cared for and protected each other. As Adam’s wife, she was now one of them. The comte had insisted that they remain with the family until after the baby was born. Antoine de Saville was a quiet man, but he was also a very wise one. He knew that the closer the bond between Skye and his family the easier this hard time would be upon her. He understood that her predicament, despite Adam’s love and understanding, was a traumatic and harsh one. Yet he was a man who loved children, and he believed that not only the mother, but the coming infant must be protected in this situation.

Both Murrough and, surprisingly, Ewan, went happily off to the university in Paris. Ewan had decided that since he was here he would take advantage of a French education, as his father had. He was not the scholar that Murrough was, but he would do well enough, and given the situation in Ireland, it could not hurt him to have French connections.

Willow fretted about allowing her dearest Dame Cecily to return
to Wren Court without her, but Robert Small’s sister was adamant on the subject. “You’ve not seen yer mother in almost two years, miss, and she needs you now. Besides, with that silly Daisy having another babe by the New Year I’ll have my hands full there. Daisy’s ma has been too ill to help, and well you know it, Willow.”

Secretly and guiltily, Willow was relieved. She loved Dame Cecily with all her heart, but she loved her mother more, and she had missed Skye so very much. This wonderful, voluble, loving new French family was very much to her liking. With a light heart she waved her surrogate grandmother off on the road to Nantes, where she would be embarking upon an O’Malley ship for Bideford. Then Willow attached herself to her recently acquired Grandmère Gaby, and began learning all the secrets of a good chatelaine. When she was not tagging after the comtesse she was with her new cousins, Matilde Rochouart, and Marie-Gabrielle and Catherine-Henriette St. Justine. It was the first time in her life that Willow could remember having friends of her own rank, and close to her own age.

Antoine de Saville, aged seven, and his cousin, Charles Sancerre, aged eight, became the close partners in crime of his lordship, Robin, the nine-year-old Earl of Lynmouth. Together the three boys roamed the estate of Archambault, riding, birding, and daydreaming, a troupe of shaggy dogs at their heels. The three scrapegraces became very adept at eluding their tutor, until finally Adam sternly threatened his stepson with a sound thrashing if he did not behave himself. Comparing notes in hushed tones, the three discovered that all had been promised the same punishment by their outraged elders, and so they finally settled down.