“Yes, my dear, you will” came his reply. “We are pledged.”
“I will be your mistress if you will, but you cannot hold me to a promise our fathers made, Valerian,” she insisted.
“I can, Aurora, and I will,” he said in implacable tones.
“You cannot force me,” she insisted.
“Oh, but I can. I could send a new overseer and manager for the plantation on the next boat to the Indies with orders to dispossess your mother, your brother, and his wife, Aurora.”
She pulled away from him, crying, “You would not be so cruel!”
“Will you test my resolve, my precious?” he asked her.
“But you said you loved me!” She sounded betrayed.
“I do, which is why I will not let you behave foolishly. You could be carrying my child even now, Aurora.” He forced her onto her back and played along her lips with his fingers, finally pushing one of them into the warmth of her mouth. “Suck it!” he commanded her.
She couldn't help herself, and did as he bid her. There was something so sensual in the act that she was almost dizzy with excitement.
Finally he drew the finger from between her lips, and bending, kissed her slowly. “You will make me a most adorable wife, Aurora.”
“I hate you!” she told him.
He laughed softly. “No, you do not, but if it pleases you to believe it, and soothes your conscience, you may think it.”
“You assaulted me! My conscience is clear,” she told him angrily. “I feel no guilt whatsoever for my actions.”
He laughed again. “You are torn between knowing how much you enjoyed making love, and your guilt over St. John. Do not fear. I will explain all to him myself. He will dislike losing to me once again, but he will get over it, as he always does.”
“You are heartless, Valerian. St. John loves me,” Aurora said.
“Has he said so? The words, I mean,” the duke inquired.
“Well . . .” She hesitated a moment, and then, “He said he feels for me what he has never felt for a woman before,” she concluded triumphantly. “If it is not love, then what is it?”
“My cousin saw I was drawn to you, even though I had a wife. It gave him great pleasure to take you from me. To taunt me with the knowledge that he could have you when I could not. What a new and rare pleasure that must have been for him. Oh, he cared for you in his fashion. St. John is feckless, but not deliberately cruel, but love? No. I do not believe it. St. John has never given his heart to any woman. To give any part of himself to another would be to put him at a disadvantage, he believes. He will be angry and disappointed, but he will accept that you are mine, Aurora.”
“Is everything a game between you two?” she wondered.
The duke considered a moment, and then said, “I have never thought of it that way before, but I suppose it is. I cannot tell you why, Aurora, but from our childhood St. John and I have rubbed each other the wrong way. He more than I, however, I believe.” His fingers brushed her hair from her face. “I don't want to speak on my cousin any longer, Aurora. Have you any idea of how lovely you are? Your eyes are like the finest aquamarines, and your skin like silk. There is a necklace among the family jewels that would match your eyes. Although I realize it is no longer the fashion to wear such gems, they would be magnificent reflected by your eyes.” He smiled wickedly. “Perhaps I shall dress your naked body with those pieces for my delectation, and mine alone.” Leaning forward, he nibbled tenderly on her earlobe.
She caught her lower lip in her teeth. She ought to be absolutely embarrassed, and certainly ashamed of what had happened in the last hour, but she could not seem to muster up those emotions. She actually giggled to her acute horror as he teased at her ear. “Stop it!” she finally managed to say in what she hoped passed for a severe tone. “You are a fool, Valerian. Now, lend me a robe so I may gather up the shreds of my clothing that you have strewn all over the stairs and foyer. Then I will go to my room. I will not remain in this house another night. Since I will be unable to catch the public coach to Hereford, and then on to London, you must send me via your own transport. I shall return to St. Timothy upon the next available vessel.” She pushed him away and attempted to sit up.
“I am going to have to lock you in your bedroom, aren't I?” he said wearily, pushing her back upon his bed. “You are going nowhere, my precious Aurora, except to St. Anne's Church, where you will marry me.” He leaned over her, pinioning her beneath him again.
“No! No! No!” she insisted, pummeling his chest with her fists. “I will not marry you, Valerian! I won't!”
“Then I shall send a new man to St. Timothy to take George's place. He, Betsy, and your mother will be very grateful to you for being so selfish, Aurora. But then, you were being selfish when you deceived me with Calandra, weren't you? Think of what your selfcenteredness has cost us all. Why do you persist in it?” His resolve almost evaporated when he saw her eyes fill with tears at the mention of her sister's name. “Ah, my precious, I am sorry,” he amended his harshness, and he kissed her soft mouth lightly, once, twice, the third time his kiss deepening until their passions were well engaged once again.
She knew immediately what was happening between them, but she did not, she admitted to herself, want to stop it. Why am I fighting him, she wondered, but she knew. She wanted the decision to be hers and no one else's, yet he would insist upon attempting to master her. I will not be forced, she thought, but as he joined their bodies once again, she knew he was not coercing her. Tensing a moment as if there would be pain again, she was astounded to find he had told her the absolute truth. There wasn't any. Just an incredible feeling of fullness as his member thrust and withdrew, thrust and withdrew, until she was dizzy and breathless once more with the sudden and violent if temporary feeling of utter deliciousness their two bodies together seemed to engender.
“Damn you!”
she gasped as she slid over the precipice.
When she finally awoke, she was to her utter amazement back in her own bed, her nightgown neatly tied at the neckline, the sun peeping through the draperies. Had she imagined it all? Was it a drug-induced dream brought on by Martha's tea? No. She had had no tea last night. She shifted herself beneath the coverlet, wincing at the sudden soreness between her thighs.
It had been no dream!
Valerian Hawkesworth had caught her running away, and he had . . . forced . . . seduced . . . made utterly incredible love to her! And he was going to make her marry him. Aurora burrowed down deeper beneath the bedding.
She had enjoyed it.
Dear God, she had enjoyed it! It had been what she had been waiting for all her life. She had been totally and utterly wanton, practically encouraging his attentions. His lips had been so knowing against hers. His hands had touched her so tenderly, and she had let him. She hadn't really resisted him at all. He had called her his
precious.
He had said he loved her. And they had done
it
twice! She hadn't realized that you could do it twice in the same night. Damn him for a rogue! Would he tell anyone? Would others be able to tell by just looking at her what had transpired between Aurora Kimberly and Valerian Hawkesworth?
She was going to die!
The door to her bedchamber opened slowly, and Martha entered the room. “Good morning, miss,” she said brightly, and going to the window, she pulled the drapes. Then she put the painted screen about Aurora's bed. “The footmen is bringing the bath up now, miss. His grace has given orders that you're to be ready by eleven o'clock.”
“Ready for what?” Aurora demanded, but Martha apparently didn't hear her mistress. Aurora could hear the footsteps of the servants lugging the tub into the room, setting it by the fire, pouring the buckets of hot water into the vessel. She smelled the honeysuckle and woodbine she favored permeating the air in the room. Martha bustled about, giving orders to unseen servants. Then it was quiet.
The screen was folded back. “Come along, miss, and hop out of your bed. I've got to do your hair too, and we've just got two hours.”
“What is this all about, Martha,” Aurora said as she climbed from the bed. “What is going on?”
“I don't know myself,” the servant said honestly. “All I know is that the duke has ordered it, and told me what you're to wear, and that you're to be ready by eleven. He certainly ain't going to confide in a servant, miss. You'll have to ask him yourself.” She whisked her mistress's nightgown off, laying it aside, helping the girl into her tub. If she noticed the dried blood on Aurora's thighs, she said nothing either by word or by look. Instead, she went to work washing the girl's brown-blond hair thoroughly, rinsing it, toweling it roughly, and wrapping a linen cloth about Aurora's head. “Now, don't dawdle, miss. We've got to dry your hair and style it properly, so wash quickly.” She handed Aurora a sea sponge and a cloth along with a cake of soap.
Silently Aurora bathed herself, wondering as she did so what Valerian Hawkesworth was up to, and why no one else seemed to know. Stepping from the tub, she let Martha dry her and wrap her in a large towel. Then she sat by the fire while her servant brushed her hair until it was dry, and then rubbed it with a piece of silk until it was shining. The door opened, and both Sally and Molly entered, their arms filled.
Martha yanked the towel from her mistress, and then snatched a garment from atop the pile Molly carried, sliding it over Aurora's arms. It was a small corset, and Aurora normally did not wear one, but so stunned was she by what was going on, she did not protest as Martha laced up the little garment, just enough to give her shape, but not so tightly that she couldn't breathe. She had seen women in London overcome and unable to breathe, so tight were their stays. Her breasts, however, threatened to burst from the garment.
The three servants pulled the girl this way and that as they continued dressing her in silk stockings with tight rosette garters, a hooped petticoat support made of bent wood covered with a flannel petticoat, two linen petticoats, and two silk petticoats.
“Let me do her hair before we put on the gown,” Martha said.
The two younger servants lifted the hoop so she might sit, and Martha took up her brush and began to style her mistress's hair. Today there were no flirtatious little curls on either side of Aurora's head. Instead, Martha fashioned an elegant chignon which she dressed with a strand of little seed pearls and silk flowers. She pinned and brushed, patted and stared until she was completely satisfied. When she was finished, she nodded to the other two, and the dress was brought.
Aurora stared hard. “It looks like a wedding gown,” she said.
“It does,” Martha agreed.
“I'm not putting it on,” she told the servants mutinously.
“Now, miss, there's no good fussing at me. I'm just doing what the duke and the dowager told me to do. He can be a hard man, the master. If you don't get into this gown right now, and I've got to go and tell him so, the three of us could be dismissed. Now, here's a good girl, miss. Where would me and Sally go without references? You wouldn't do that to us after all our years of faithful service to the Kimberly family, would you?”
“Oh, put the damn thing on me, then,” she grumbled as they lowered the cream-colored velvet trimmed in ermine over her. The neckline of the gown, despite its edging of fur, looked indecent to Aurora, for the corset made her breasts swell dangerously over its edge.
Molly knelt before her, slipping her shoes with their decorative rosettes onto Aurora's feet. Rising, she stepped back and said, “Oh, miss, don't you look grand!”
Sally stepped forward. “His grace asked that you wear these,” she said, proffering a box at Aurora.
Opening the slightly tattered leather case, Aurora gasped. Lying within upon a bed of yellowed white silk was an incredible necklace unlike anything she had ever seen. Each stone was cut in the shape of a heart and set in a pinkish gold. From the center of the necklace a large pear-shaped pearl hung. It was the biggest pearl she had ever seen.
“Why, them stones is the exact color of your eyes, miss,” Martha noted, taking the necklace up and fastening it about Aurora's neck.
Aurora stared into the mirror. The necklace sat flat upon her chest beneath her collarbone, the pearl dipping toward her cleavage. It was probably the most beautiful thing she had ever seen in all her life. Then she blushed, remembering his remarks the previous evening about the necklace. She couldn't imagine wearing such a jewel in public. It was so sensuous and decadent.
Martha set a deep blue velvet cape over Aurora's shoulders and handed her a pair of long, creamy kid gloves which the girl drew on slowly. “Come along now, miss. The clock is about to strike eleven.”
Downstairs, Peters greeted her politely. “The carriage is waiting for you, miss. Martha is to ride with you.” He handed the serving woman her cloak and ushered them outside, where the footmen waited to help them into the vehicle.
The coach moved off. Aurora did not need to ask where it was going. She would have been a fool not to know. When they reached their destination, it would be St. Anne's Church, and indeed it was. The grooms jumped down from the back of the carriage where they had been riding, and opening the door, pulled down the steps and helped the two passengers out. The dowager and Lady Elsie were awaiting them upon the stone porch of the church.