Excerpt:
A clandestine meeting,
particularly where nakedness is involved, is best arranged for a moonless
night.
Or so Gloriana Warren told
herself, for her mother would never have uttered such a scandalous dictum.
Unfortunately, it was tonight or never. Tomorrow, the man she had sworn to love
forever would leave Lancashire and return to London—without her. They wouldn’t
be able to marry for years because of his stupid scruples about money.
Men and their tedious
pride! She and the Marquis de Bellechasse loved one another. They shared the
same lofty ideals. She had a substantial dowry. Marrying now made sense. Not
only that, her mother would die happy.
So Gloriana was taking
matters into her own hands. She had planned the upcoming encounter in glorious
detail—every word, every gesture. As she emerged from the summerhouse to greet
him, he would stand and stare at her, transfixed by her beauty.
“Darling Philippe,” she
would say, reaching for him, offering herself without reserve. “Love is
eternal. It cannot, must not be denied!”
“Ah, ma belle,” he would
respond, his hand on his heart, his voice throbbing with desire. “I adore you.
What a fool I was to think we could wait for years. Even another minute is too
long. Tonight, I shall make you mine!”
She would fling herself
into his waiting arms, swept away on the tide of his passion.
She wasn’t sure exactly how
it would go after that, apart from plenty of kissing, but judging by her
previous experience of Philippe’s kisses, it would be the most thrilling
experience of her life.
She sneaked out the French
doors, arms full of blankets, and glanced back up at Garrison House. Not a
glimmer of candlelight showed in the windows. She hurried through the rose
garden and skirted the lawn, keeping to the bushes and out of the moonlight. In
the secret room under the summerhouse, she and her darling Philippe would be
safe. Tomorrow they would announce their engagement to Mama. They would send
for a special license and be married within a week.
Ten minutes later, she had
set up a makeshift bed under the summerhouse and removed all her clothes.
Shivering more from excitement than from the chilly night air, she waited for
Philippe to arrive.
Tonight would be the most
perfect night of her life.
~~~
The Marquis de Bellechasse
left his horse in a convenient copse and made his careful way forward, pausing
at the edge of the trees. Garrison House was reassuringly dark, but moonlight
reflected off the ripples on the lake. The summerhouse gleamed white on its
little knoll, exposed on all sides. He paused, listening. No sound disturbed
the darkness except a nightjar complaining from a nearby oak. He hoped and
prayed no one else was up and about tonight. He couldn’t afford to get caught
with Gloriana Warren, but nor could he bring himself to ignore her passionate
plea to see him once more before they parted.
He loved her—to the point
of folly, judging by his current behavior. He had already said farewell, and
yet here he was, trespassing on her brother’s estate at midnight to say it
again. He dreaded her inevitable tears.
The door to the summerhouse
stood wide open, which meant Gloriana was here already. Fine. Best to get it
over with now. He took a deep breath and set out across the lawn.
He had almost reached the
doorway when she came into view, rising from out of nowhere, her face pale, her
hair loose around her bare shoulders. He halted, staring, his heart thundering.
She continued to rise, her breasts round and luscious in the light of the moon.
His eyes slid helplessly down the curve of her hips to the darker patch at the
apex of her thighs . . .
Mordieu. He shook his head
and began to back away. “No, chĆ©rie. We must not do this.”
She set her feet on the
floor—she must have emerged from a trapdoor—and beckoned with those sweet arms,
smiled with those lush lips. “Philippe, my darling, please come to me. I love
you so much.”
“No, ma belle, I cannot.”
“But love—” She faltered,
then continued toward him, arms wide. “Love is eternal. It must not be denied.”
Sacrebleu, she was
declaiming like a shoddy actress on the stage. The thought revolted him. Surely
his idealistic Gloriana could not cheapen herself so. Anguished, he put up his
hands to fend her off. “It is not possible, Gloriana. Not yet. It would not be
right.”
She hurried forward, her
breasts jiggling enticingly. “Truly, we mustn’t delay. My mother may not have long
to live, and seeing me married well is her dearest wish.”
He didn’t care in the least
about old Lady Garrison, who was the worst sort of snob. He shook his head.
“No. To wait is best.”
“Philippe, I cannot wait. I
need you now.” She reached for him, her nakedness inches away.
He gritted his teeth and
took another step backwards. His imbecile cock was reacting to her, but he had
long ago gained control over its demands. “I am sorry, but I must go.” He
turned away.
She wailed, a sharp,
keening sound, and immediately a shout came from nearby. Her brother? No, he
was in London. A gamekeeper?
Whoever the man might be,
he was lurking here on purpose. So much for love, Philippe thought. Gloriana
was just another lust-crazed woman trying to trap him into marriage. He turned
and ran. Pursued by shouts and then shots, he reached his horse and galloped
away.
