Virginia Henley (39 page)

“Now you,” she murmured, reaching for his shirt buttons. She performed the same ritual for him and by the time they were both naked, they were dizzy with rapture. He lifted her from the couch, high above him and let her slip down his body. The head of his shaft penetrated her and he cupped her buttocks so she could sit on him and savor the exquisite feeling it gave to both of them. The tip of his tongue slipped inside her mouth and she felt she would die from the twin sensations of penetration and withdrawal their bodies made. She wrapped her legs around his back and he slowly walked
to the bed with her in that position. He bent down until she was on the bed, then she playfully rolled away and buried her face in the pillows. In a flash he straddled her and showered kisses on her back. As he rolled her over to face him, their playful laughter ceased and they became very serious. The awe of the moment dawned upon them as they fully realized the deep love they felt for each other. Their lovemaking had a delicious newness about it, while at the same time they were repeating the ritual mating they had shared years before. With hardly a pause he repeated his lovemaking to make up for all the nights they had lived without it. Afterward they lay entwined and talked.

“I think it will be easier for us if I go away,” he said.

“But you said war was about to break out in America,” she said, frightened.

“There’s money to be made in war, darling.”

“Not gunrunning, Patrick,” she said fearfully.

“No, not gunrunning. I can leave that up to my partner. You forget Hind’s is a food company. We can get army contracts. That’s why I sold the mills. There will be an embargo on cotton and all our food factories are in the North. My sympathies lie with the South, but I have more sense than to align myself with the losing side.”

“How can you possibly know who will lose?”

“I know. I’m far enough removed to see things objectively. The North is vital, alive, industrious; the South is indolent,” he said.

“Let’s not speak of war,” she begged.

He kissed her hungrily and she responded immediately.

“Am I right to think you love-starved, darling? Does Charles … no, I’d rather not know! I can’t bear to think of you together. All that really matters is that he’s good to you.”

“He is good to me. To Charles Patrick also.” She bit her lip because she knew she gave him pain. He crushed her to him. “Never stop loving me,” he demanded.

Patrick knew a deep need to put his brand upon her to blot out the thought of all other lovers, ever. He knew he must make love to her as if it was their first time, and their last. How could he show her what she meant to him in one short night?

He pulled her on top of him to lie along his hard length. “I have so much I want to give you, but we only have till dawn. Take it from me hungrily. Make demands on me. I’ll give you everything and take everything in return.”

Suddenly Kitty was seized by a dark, violent passion. Only Patrick could arouse her to such madness. It was their secret that when they shared a bed they became shockingly wild and untamed.

They gave each other pain and pleasure, torture and bliss. They shared love and lust and raw carnality. Licking, sucking, biting. Fierce. Savage. Ferocious. Cruel. It took more than once to slake their need. Then their lovemaking became gentle, sweet, tender, heartbreakingly poignant. All giving, sharing, cherishing surrender.

They lay spent, totally exhausted from an excess of love. He stroked her gently and they drifted into slumber.

She awoke with a start. “Patrick, wake up, darling, I have to leave.” She shook him gently.

He masked the regret her words brought to him. “Let me dress you.”

Inside the carriage he held her in his lap so they could savor their last precious moments together. The carriage stopped. The moment had come. Her lips were beestung from too many kisses, so he kissed her forehead, “Don’t look back.” She stood in the cold light of dawn and wrapped his cloak tightly about her. A few carriages still were there.
One couple actually was getting into a punt at the water’s edge, each carrying a champagne bottle. Kitty shuddered. She made her way toward the house, hoping to reach her bed without having to face anyone.

Three weeks later Kitty sat at the breakfast table with Charles. She toyed with her food as she sorted out her thoughts. She was worried about Charles. He looked old. She couldn’t hurt him by telling him so, but she couldn’t remain silent any longer.

“Charles, you don’t look well to me. Please, dear, see your doctor. I think you’ve been working too hard.”

“I’m all right. Just a little tired. As a matter of fact, I’ve been worrying about you. Look at your plate—not enough on it to feed a bird and you keep pushing that about from one side to the other. I think you’ve lost weight. Perhaps the boy’s getting too much for you. I think it’s time we channeled some of that energy. He’d better have a tutor before he becomes unmanageable.”

“He’s just a normal boy, but I do agree that it’s time for a tutor. A little discipline wouldn’t be amiss,” she said and smiled.

“That’s better! I love to see you smile, and you’ve looked so sad lately.” He cocked an eyebrow at her. “I don’t believe you took my advice, did you?”

“What advice was that, Charles?”

“About finding yourself a nice young man.”

“Ah, that’s my secret,” she teased. “You know the husband is always the last to know. But you’re diverting attention from yourself. We were discussing how tired you look.”

“Why don’t we have a holiday. It would do us both good. What we need is a dose of Ireland! We’ll visit my seat, Drago Castle in County Armagh.”

“It sounds marvelous. I’ve never been to that part,” she said excitedly.

“It will give Charlie a chance to run wild before we saddle him with a tutor. I’ll charter a boat to take us up to Dundalk Bay. Your cousin Patrick keeps a yacht in Liverpool at the ready to take him wherever he wishes.”

She pulled a slight face. “How decadent of him.”

“Kathleen, you have a blind spot when it comes to Patrick,” he said.

“What do you mean?” she asked faintly.

“Well, you never have a good word for him, and a more worthy fellow I can’t imagine,” he told her.

“Worthy?” she questioned.

“Well, I’m not supposed to bandy it about, but at this very moment he’s taking secret messages from our government to Mr. Lincoln’s government in America. An occupation that could very easily get him shot.”

An ice-cold hand gripped her heart. Patrick’s words drifted back to her: “One last time … I’ll never bother you again.” Surely he didn’t think he was going to his death. He hadn’t seemed worried, but then again that was the impression he gave—never caring if he won or lost!

Drago Castle was foreboding, but it fascinated Kitty. Only one wing was habitable. The rest was damp, dark and quite forbidding. The suite of rooms Charles and Kitty used were kept cozily warm by blazing fires night and day. Katie and Mimi, the servants Kitty brought, were deathly afraid of the place and swore there was a ghost around every corner.

Charles said, “When I was a child the place terrified me, so I can understand how the girls feel.”

“Well, I don’t want them frightening Charlie with their ideas. I’ll soon put a stop to it,” she promised.

Mimi came to her not ten minutes later. “Ma’am, I hear
footsteps following me whenever I go to bring anything from the kitchen. I dare not go again.” She trembled. “Ah, I see I shall have to tell you the story of the castle ghost. It seems that Charles’ grandfather had a darling little dog when he was a young boy. It had such an enormous appetite for a tiny dog that whenever the servants brought food from the kitchens, it followed them every day. It was such a familiar sight that around the castle, mealtimes weren’t the same unless the little dog trotted about after the servants. The legend is that if someone comes into the castle who is extremely kind to animals, they can hear the little dog pattering about behind them.”

“Oh, the dear little thing! That’s not very frightening, is it?” said Mimi, and she went from the room without trepidation.

Charles was bemused. “And what happened to the dear little dog?”

Kitty made claws and growled at him. “The dragon ate it!”

Charles chuckled. “I think she believed you.”

Kitty shrugged and said, “People usually believe anything you tell them.”

He studied her for a minute. “You’d never fob me off with a pleasant story, Kathleen. You’d always tell me the truth, wouldn’t you?”

She regarded him quietly with her head on one side, then said softly, “Not if it would break your heart, Charles.”

The autumn air was crisp and tangy. Kitty rode every day. She finally allowed her son to ride a small pony, which put him in his glory. Charles took the dogs and went hunting. Kitty noted the fresh air must be doing him good, as he certainly lost the tired look and seemed quite relaxed.

Kitty visited one middle-aged woman who looked after
orphaned children. After she left, she felt ashamed at the way she had frittered away her time in London in a whirl of social functions. Plans were already being formed to get money for this orphanage and others by having charity functions. She knew so many people who were far too heavy in the pocket. It would be like doing them a favor to lighten them a bit. She hired one or two girls who came up to the castle looking for work. A few more came and she wondered how the household could absorb any more young girls. Kitty felt a definite obligation to these young women who desperately needed employment. By the time she had agreed to take back five girls with her, the stream had turned into a steady flow of colleens eager to take their place in domestic service.

Charles chided her, “I think you’re running an employment agency, my dear.” She began to write letters to her friends in London to try to secure places for them. Finally she called half a dozen aspirants together for a word of warning she knew had to be said.

“You will be alone for the first time in your lives. You all seem far too young and innocent to be going to a worldly place like London. There are dangers to be avoided at every turn.” Kitty hesitated, she was on the brink of warning them of money matters and traffic, when she let out a heavy sigh and said, “A young pretty maid is almost the property of her employers. The sons of the family will take liberties every chance they get. And it’s not just the sons,” she warned, “the master of the house will do his best to seduce you every time the mistress turns her back. They’ll attempt to lift your skirts in every dark corner they can catch you.”

The girls blushed and giggled, but she went on, “Be determined never to let anyone make a victim of you and you’ll manage fine in London, or anywhere else, for that matter.”

Kitty purposely kept herself so busy all day that she had no idle time to sit and daydream. Whenever the brisk autumn
weather permitted she went out riding. Then the dreams started. The first one found her in vaguely familiar surroundings. She wore only an orange cotton shift. She was manacled to a man whose body was so close, their thighs brushed together. She opened her mouth to scream in terror, but it was Patrick she was shackled to and as she clung to him with relief, his manhood hardened against her thighs and he took her on the hard ground. She awoke, still feeling his rigid fullness inside her, and let out her breath on a sob, not knowing if she was happy or sad to find it was only a dream.

A few nights later her dream began in a beautiful bedroom. She felt truly at home there. The curtains were drawn over the tall windows, and a blazing fire warmed the spacious room and cast its flickering shadows across the huge four-poster. She brushed her hair before a dressing table, while a smile played about her lips and anticipation made her spine tingle. Suddenly she heard a noise, and the doorknob turned. She was afraid until she reassured herself the door was securely locked. Suddenly there came a curse and a splintering of wood. Patrick stood in the doorway in a towering rage. “To lock the door against me, madame, is to invite rape!”

Charles had thoroughly enjoyed his sojourn in his native land, but the day arrived when he could put off his return to London no longer. “You must be eager to see your own estate. Why don’t we stop on our way through to the coast— it’s not far out of the way—and you can have a nice visit with Terry.”

“Oh, Charles, that would be delightful. I’ve longed to see Windrush ever since you put the deed in my hands.”

He kissed her. “That was one of the happiest mornings of my life.” He ran his hand lightly across her breast and she blushed at the unaccustomed intimacy.

“I’ve been well pleased in you,” he whispered.

*   *   *

When the entourage arrived at Windrush, Kitty was enthralled with it. It was very similar to the estate the O’Reillys had owned by the River Liffey, giving her the feeling of coming home. The sight of her grandfather deeply shocked her; he had become so frail and thin. She confided her fears to Charles.

“If you feel like staying here awhile, my love, it’s perfectly ail right with me. Charles Patrick can stay with you; Katie and Mimi will help you. I’ll come and meet you when you’re ready to come home.”