“I am relieved to learn it,” he answered her seriously. “It would make me most uncomfortable to learn that you had an unsavory reputation, Philippa. I may assume then that there is nothing in your girlish past that would disturb me should I learn of it.”
“You are making fun of me,” she pouted.
“Nay, I am merely inquiring of you as you have just inquired of me,” he told her, and there was a twinkle in his eye. “Nothing at all?”
“My character cannot be faulted,” she said haughtily. Why did he look as if he wanted to burst out laughing?
“Yet I have heard the tale of the Canted Tower from your own lips,” the earl said mischievously. “Now let me see if I can recall it. Some young ladies and some young gentlemen were caught playing a rather naughty game by the king himself.”
“I had had too much wine to drink!” Philippa protested. “It is not in my nature to overimbibe or be risque, my lord. And most of the court was gone so there was no scandal.”
“Lord Cambridge found it very amusing, as did I.”
“There was nothing funny about it, my lord! My behavior was shameful, and only the timely arrival of the king prevented me from a worse fault,” Philippa cried. “Why do you fling this indiscretion in my face now?”
“Philippa, Philippa! You are an innocent young girl whose heart was broken. You were made the butt of many jests in your plight. Finally you reacted with what for you was inappropriate behavior, but I know that is not your nature. And it was not so dreadful a sin you committed. I tease you because I am shortly to be your husband, and I want to make gentle love to you, but you resist me.” He caressed her face. “Do not resist me, Philippa. I mean you no harm.”
She put her head against his shoulder, and began to weep. “I want to be loved by the man who caresses and kisses me,” she said piteously. “You do not love me. You want Melville.”
“Aye, I do, and you are correct when you say I don’t love you. How can I? I barely know you, Philippa. And you hold me off in your shyness. We are to be married soon, and it would not be honorable to steal the cow’s cream if I didn’t mean to buy the beast.” He held her against him, his hand now stroking her back.
She sniffled softly. The big hand caressing her was very comforting. Even if he didn’t love her he was kind, she thought. “Kissing,” she said. “It is all I know.”
“And you do it very well,” he told her.
“I have heard of touching, but I have not listened closely. And I have never allowed any man to touch me. The incident at the Canted Tower was foolish, but fate prevented anything untoward from happening, my lord.”
“We all have some incident in our youth that we would rather not discuss or recall, Philippa,” he told her. “Now dry your eyes, and we will kiss and make up.”
She pulled a small lace-edged handkerchief from her sleeve, and mopped her face with it before restoring it to its place. “I don’t think I want to kiss you now,” she told him. “You have mocked and teased me, my lord. You must be kinder to me.”
In a single swift move Crispin St. Claire swept Philippa into his arms in a low embrace that left her helpless to his will. “I do not believe for one moment, my dear Philippa, that your feelings are damaged by our conversation. But you are behaving like a silly little court ninny. That is not what I want in a wife. I want the girl you really are. The one with wit and intellect. Now I have given you my word that I should not rush you along passion’s path, but we will be wed in a few weeks’ time, and I will delay no longer than that, Philippa. So if you do not wish to be shocked upon our wedding night, I should suggest you learn to accept my embraces now.” He kissed her, a hard kiss. “You have no idea how delicious, how delightful, passion and lust can be when it is unbridled. I will not allow you to indulge in the queen’s Spanish moral reticence.” He kissed her again. “I will have you warm and naked in our bed, Philippa. I will fondle you at my leisure, and you will not close your eyes and say your rosary when I do, but you will sigh with the pleasure I offer you.” He kissed her again, now a slow, deep kiss that left her breathless. “We will join our bodies as the God who created us intended us to do. You will cry out with the joy our mutual desire gives you, and you will beg for more.” His hand now smoothed over her bodice, fondling her young breasts. “Now say ‘Yes, Crispin,’ ” he commanded her in a low and fierce voice.
“No! I will fight you!” she declared.
“Why?” he demanded.
“Because ... because ...”
“You have no reason, Philippa. You will belong to me, but I will belong to you.”
“I could hate you!” she whispered.
“But you won’t,” he told her, and he kissed her a final time before sitting her up again. “You’re very pretty when you are confused,” he told her.
“You are so arrogant!” she told him half angrily.
“And you are utterly adorable in your confusion,” he assured her, grinning.
The barge bumped the palace quay, and Philippa was aided in disembarking.
“I must rejoin the queen now,” she said, and hurried away from him.
He watched her go, amused by their encounter, but he had meant what he said. She was like a finely bred and unbroken young mare. But he would break her to his bit. He was not in the least sorry that they were to marry. She was going to make a fine countess of Witton. He entered the palace seeking out some gentlemen with whom to play cards, and to his surprise he encountered his eldest sister as he walked through a gallery. “Marjorie!” he said. “What are you doing here?”
“I am told you are finally to marry, and I must learn it from a friend down from court. I came up to London as soon as I could. Who is she, and why have you kept it a secret from me? Does Susanna know?”
He took his sister’s hands in his and kissed them both. “I have hardly had a moment to myself, Marjorie, since I decided. The betrothal papers will be signed on the twenty-eighth, and we will wed on the thirtieth.”
