‘Was I right?’ murmured Gabriel. ‘Are trust and dominance better bedfellows than cruelty and dominance?’
‘Yes,’ whispered Clarissa. ‘Yes, they are.’
And she was truly overjoyed to trust and be trusted, and more than anything to love and be loved. She had almost forgotten the power of such things.
As the sun rose, they walked through London, touching all the time, pausing to kiss, to look, to whisper feelings and desires.
They skirted Belgravia and dawdled towards Chelsea. They would call at Clarissa’s first, collect clothes, boast silently to Pascale, then spend time at Gabriel’s, making plans.
Bit by bit, the pale morning light shrank the long, soft shadows, and the streets came alive. Carts laden with market produce, and omnibuses without passengers clattered over the cobbles; curtains opened at small, top-floor windows; one or two people passed by.
They reached Chelsea Embankment, and the sun was a ball of hazy gold, low in the sky. Barges and wherries moved sluggishly on the water, and the wharves were clanging into being.
‘I think something’s wrong,’ said Gabriel as they neared Clarissa’s house.
At the foot of the steps was a heap of trunks, bandboxes, portmanteaux, and travelling bags. A rugged fellow was loading them on top of an awaiting carriage. Pascale, glowering, descended the steps, slapped a hatbox on the pile, then stomped back up to the house.
Cautiously, the young couple advanced. When Alicia appeared in the doorway, red hair aflame, Clarissa flew to her, forgiving her everything in an instant.
She clasped her stepmother in an urgent embrace: What was happening? Was Father all right? Why had they returned early? Something was terribly wrong, wasn’t it?
‘Gout,’ said Alicia, giving Clarissa’s hands a reassuring squeeze. ‘Charles merely has gout. He eats too much. Hardly enough to warrant shortening our holiday, but I could not bear his endless complaints. And may I ask what you’re doing at this hour?’
Before Clarissa could reply, Pascale edged past with another box, followed by a scowling Ellis. The two servants glared at Clarissa but said nothing.
‘You need a new lady’s maid,’ said Alicia, pitching a scornful look as Pascale made her way back into the house. ‘Well, Clarissa? Why, pray, are you wandering the streets at dawn?’
Clarissa cast a glance down to the street, smiling shyly. Gabriel was hovering there, half-hiding behind the pillar of the gate. She beckoned him discreetly and he approached, squeezing past the luggage. Alicia regarded him intently.
‘Are you in love, Clarissa?’ she asked in a conspiratorial hiss.
Clarissa nodded earnestly, trying to stress with her eyes that it was a secret. She took Gabriel’s warm hand as he reached them. Alicia shook her head, perched herself on the wall, then stared out at the river.
The silence was long. The sun was rising. Shadows might have moved.
At length, Alicia turned. ‘I didn’t think it could be true,’ she said softly. ‘About Marldon. I’m afraid Pascale’s been talking rather loudly. Your father’s slept through it all, thank God.’ She indicated Gabriel and smiled. ‘Well?’
Clarissa mumbled over introductions, then the two lovers, at times awkward and halting, at others clamouring to share sentences, gave a confused, half-truthful tale of Marldon, Asham House, cruelties and dowry contracts.
‘Please,’ said Alicia, raising her hands. ‘Spare me further details.’
‘Oh, Alicia,’ breathed Clarissa. ‘We were going to hide from you, run away. We want to marry but Father … He’ll never ever agree to it.’
Alicia stood. ‘Don’t worry about him,’ she replied confidently. ‘I shall have a word in his ear.’
She brushed a strand of hair from Clarissa’s furrowed brow, gazing kindly at them both.
‘Charles Longleigh,’ she continued, ‘despite his stubbornness, has a very obedient streak. He’ll yield.’
Gabriel laughed quietly, drew Clarissa close and nuzzled into her neck.
‘Much like his daughter,’ he whispered, and she shivered with desire.
Black Lace books contain sexual fantasies. In real life, always practise safe sex.
This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
Version 1.0
Epub ISBN 9780753533253
This edition published in 2006 by
Black Lace
Thames Wharf Studios
Rainville Road
London W6 9HA
Originally published 1998
Copyright • Kristina Lloyd 1998
The right of Kristina Lloyd to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.