Authors: Diana Quincy
He struck a key and it answered with a gleeful chord. A shiver moved through him. His weakness for music had cost him Kitty all of those years ago. But he had her now. Dare he attempt to take back his music as well? Playing opened something deep inside of him and laid him bare. Could he allow himself to be that vulnerable again?
He hit a few notes and a joyous sensation moved through him. He put both hands to the keys and began to play an old tune he knew from memory. His fingers floated across the keys in perfect tandem, the chords striking beautiful notes that reverberated through the chamber. He closed his eyes and soaked in the feeling. An agonizing pleasure filled his chest. Emotion welled and he became lost in the music, allowing it to transport him to a place where his mind settled and jubilance filled his chest, sensations he’d thought permanently extinguished at Talavera.
It wasn’t until he finished the piece that he realized he wasn’t alone. He sensed her presence before he saw her. Not turning, he said, “It seems the music room will be of some use after all.”
“That was even more beautiful than I remembered.” She moved into his line of vision, emotion glistening in her eyes. She wore her white dressing gown which reflected the blue light of the moon. “You played with such passion.”
Suddenly, he wanted—he needed—her to know everything. “When I was wounded at Talavera, I lay injured on the battlefield in terrible pain for three days while the fighting raged around me. I could hear and see the carnage, the smell of blood and festering wounds, but I felt like the waking dead because no one paid me any mind. When the fighting stopped, people came, local villagers, and I thought help was at hand. But they had not come to rescue me. They took everything. Not only my money and my father’s fob, but also the clothes off my back. I lay in the field in my smallclothes for another day.” Ignoring her sharp intake of breath, he continued. “I’ll never forget the stench of the dead, the overwhelming feeling of utter helplessness. Sometimes in my dreams, I am back on the battlefield again, and I try to fight back when they come to rob me and treat me as though I am dead. And sometimes now in my nightmares, the realization comes to me that I am indeed dead and the horror of it overwhelms me.”
“Oh, Edward. I’m exceedingly grateful you came home.” She moved between him and the keyboard, tears glistening in her eyes, and embraced him. “Thank you for telling me.”
Still seated, he put his arms around her and lay his head against her chest, inhaling the warmth of her skin and her subtle feminine scent, allowing her to banish the stench of the battlefield lingering in his memory.
She pulled back and met his gaze and something clicked in her eyes. “That was no nightmare I witnessed in Devon. You experience melancholia as Toby does.”
He dipped his chin and continued in a strained tone, determined to tell her the truth. “Toby’s Doctor Drummond says there are some measures that can be taken to ease the severity of the fits.”
She put a hand on his shoulder. “Do they trouble you often?”
“The bouts were infrequent, but seem to re-occur more now that I’ve returned to England.” He exhaled heavily through his nostrils. “It was wrong of me not to tell you before we married that you might be tying yourself to a bedlamite.”
“You are not a bedlamite.” The words were fierce. “Is this why you don’t stay the night in my bed?”
“Nightmares can bring on episodes.” Dread weighted his chest. He hated that she would now know the worst about him. “I don’t want you to see that.”
“You idiot.” Her eyes glittered. “That is nothing in comparison to being with you. If you had returned sightless, I would gladly be your eyes. If you had returned legless, I would carry you on my back. Nothing else matters as long as I am by your side. Nothing else even comes close.”
Emotion roiled his chest. “As imperfect as I am, I am all yours.”
“You are alive. You survived.” She kissed the top of his head. “It is something to celebrate.”
She still accepted him. He found it difficult to comprehend. He loosened her dressing gown and drew it off. “I want you now, Kitty.”
“You have me.”
He ran his hands under her night rail, and up the smooth satin of her legs to cup her bare bottom. “I have a fierce need for you.”
She hugged him tighter. “I’m here. Take what you need.”
He stood and took possession of her mouth, kissing her with deep insistent strokes of his tongue. Exhilaration shot through him. He was alive. And he was here with Kitty. He lifted her night rail and drew it off, leaving the smooth satin of her skin to glow a soft blue in the moonlight. He lifted her leg around his hip and pulled at his placket to free himself. He entered her with one strong stroke and an audible groan of resounding relief.
He worked in and out of her in forceful movements, suffusing himself in her soft wet heat. He’d survived. His strokes grew faster and more insistent. The vigor of his exertion pushed Kitty back against the pianoforte and her bottom struck the keys with each robust stroke, sending discordant notes ringing through the chamber.
His chest ached as he mouthed her neck and shoulder. Moving to her pert breasts, he flicked the eager tip with his tongue before taking the tender flesh into his mouth and sampling its soft sweetness. He sought her lips again, feeling closer to Kitty than he’d ever felt with anyone. Kitty.
His wife
. Having her in his arms, making love with her, was excruciating in its rightness.
When his crisis came, intense relief and deep emotion welled in his chest, flooding his senses. His eyes were wet. She sighed and held him, then kissed him gently on the neck and took his hand, leading him up the stairs and into her chamber. She helped him undress and settled next to him on the bed, her soft warmth soothing his mind and body. And he slept.
…
When Kat awoke the next morning, Rand was gone. Disappointment panged in her chest. After last night, she’d hoped to awaken with him by her side. Rising from the bed, she tried the adjoining door to his chamber and found it unlocked. At least this time he hadn’t bolted her out. His chamber was empty, his bed still neatly made. Perhaps he had spent the evening in her bed after all.
She called for Fanny, who helped her dress while they discussed which gown Kat would wear to the Marquess of Camryn’s dinner that evening. It would be her first meeting with Rand’s family since becoming his wife. Nerves fluttering in her stomach, she settled on a pale green creation she had never worn before.
When she went down for breakfast, Cotter informed her that the earl had called for his mount and departed directly after taking his morning meal, leaving word he would return in time to escort her to Cam’s soiree. She frowned. He meant to absent himself all day? She’d awakened with a sense of hopefulness after last night; not only had he played music for the first time in six years, but he’d also shared the horrors of his battlefield experiences.
Cotter, the new butler, appeared, pulling her thoughts away from her husband. “My lady, you have a caller.”
“Who is it?” she asked, surprised anyone would call so early.
“Viscount Sinclair, my lady.”
“Oh.” Something shifted in her belly and suddenly she wished she hadn’t eaten so much at breakfast. “Well, do send him in.”
She swallowed and her palms began to itch when she heard his approaching footsteps, the sound of his boots tapping the marble floor as he approached.
He entered, dressed immaculately in a dark jacket and buff breeches, and bowed with utmost formality. “Countess.”
“Laurie.” Her heart gladdened at the sight of him and she realized she’d missed her old friend. Rising to greet him, she offered both her hands. “It is good of you to come.”
He wore a wary expression as he took her hands in his. “We are still friends then?”
“I couldn’t bear it if we were not.” She gestured toward a chair at the table. “Won’t you sit?”
He joined her and a footman laid a place for him before withdrawing and leaving them alone. “I hardly know how to begin,” he said.
“You behaved very badly.” Despite her happiness at seeing him, the shock and hurt of what she’d witnessed the evening of the Harvest Home dance still stung. “It was a betrayal of the worst kind. I entrusted you with my heart.”
He winced at the scorching words. “Did you? I never felt I had your heart, not really, but that is no excuse for my behavior.”
Her anger lessened, for she recognized he spoke the truth. She’d never given him her heart. It had always belonged to Rand. “Did you take up with Elena because you knew all was not as it should have been between us?”
A pained expression crossed his face. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised Randolph told you about Elena. I cannot fault him for it.”
“Rand knows about you and Elena?”
“I am the lowest of cads, and I owe you the sincerest of apologies even though I know it will be of little comfort. Nothing can excuse my behavior.”
“How long has Rand known?”
“Since a fortnight before the Harvest Home. I comprehended the instant I received your note that he had informed you of my transgression.”
“He didn’t tell me.” Why hadn’t he? Especially when he had been trying to win her? It made no sense. “I wasn’t aware until this moment that he knew about the two of you.”
His brow wrinkled. “Then how did you come to know?”
“It is of no matter.” She had no desire to add to his discomfort. “The blame is not yours alone. As you may have surmised by now, my heart was elsewhere. Given the opportunity to be faithless, I might very well have taken it.”
“With Randolph?” Surprise registered on his face. “You truly care for him?”
“I do,” she said with a gentle smile. “I have since I was sixteen, when my father forbade the match since his prospects were poor.”
“And he has since gained an earldom.” He leaned toward her, his gaze probing her face. “You are truly happy with your choice?”
“I am.”
“You relieve my mind.” He sat back in his chair with a heavy exhale. “I’ve castigated myself these many days since learning you’d married Randolph. I feared my reprehensible actions had driven you into an unhappy arrangement.”
“Far from it. I am most content with my husband, and I wish the same for you someday.”
“Do you think that, in time, you will find it in your heart to forgive me?”
She hesitated. “Yes, I do believe I will, with time. You are very dear to me.” She put her hand over his. “Perhaps we’re meant to be the closest of friends rather than husband and wife.”
He turned his palm upward to take hold of her hand. “I am fond of you, Kat, but I suppose it is in the way one cares for a sister rather than a lover.”
“And what of Elena?”
“I cannot say.” A troubled expression lined his handsome visage. “I confess she is not the sort of woman I expected to associate with.”
“Do you love her?” At his grimace of discomfort, she added. “You can speak freely…as one friend to another.”
He reddened, still clearly ill at ease with the topic. “Elena insists it is primarily a…physical attraction…between us that will soon burn out. She is convinced I have yet to encounter the woman I should take to wife.”
“Do you think she has the right of it?”
He sighed. “I am not sure what to think.” They spoke a bit more of Elena before turning to other matters. Laurie filled his plate at the sideboard and the conversation flowed easily until he rose to take his leave. After his departure, she spent the morning and the better part of the afternoon busy with household matters. There was still much to be done.
It also took her mind off Rand’s whereabouts, although worry niggled in her stomach and she couldn’t help wondering where he was. As evening neared, she went upstairs to dress in her pale green gown. Fanny was putting the finishing touches on her hair when music sounded through the door leading to Rand’s chamber.
Her heart shifted in her chest as the warm, bright violin notes flowed over her. She smiled at the short sharp exclamations in the music. She rose and followed the sound, the harmony calling her like a siren’s song.
Rand stood at the center of his chamber, a look of intense concentration marking the strong lines of his face, playing the violin she’d ordered for him. The glistening wooden instrument was tucked under his chin and the bow moved in sharp, precise movements. He was already dressed for dinner in his formal clothes, all black except for his snowy cravat. Before him, a small round table with two chairs had been set in a formal fashion for supper, with candles, crystal, and their finest tables settings, which she’d ordered just days ago.
Her chest aching, she closed her eyes to absorb the beauty of it all—the music, Rand, and the splendor of being with him. As long as she lived, she doubted she’d ever know a moment as perfect as this one.
“Are you going to stand there all evening with your eyes closed or do you plan to join me for supper?”
She realized the music had stopped and opened her eyes to find his dark emerald gaze smiling at her. “But we shall be late for Camryn’s supper.”
“I’ve postponed that affair.” He held out his hand. “Tonight we dine alone.”
She moved forward to place her hand in his large warm one. “Why?”
“Because I desire to be in privacy when I play for my wife.”
“You played beautifully,” she said with feeling. “Just as I remember.”
“If so, it was all your doing.” He pulled out a chair for her to sit at the table. “Being with you makes me want to hear the music again. And to share it with you.”
Cotter and the footman served their meal and then withdrew, leaving them alone to enjoy their meal. “What did you do with your day?” he asked. “I could not help but notice the continuing improvements.”
“There is much work to be done.” She sipped her claret, savoring its silky fruit flavor. “This house has been too long without a mistress.”
“As my valet has said on many occasions. Burgess is now in raptures to have you about.” He sliced his meat. “And he is not the only one.”