“Well, if you are determined to go ahead with this, that is not a bad place to begin,” Madeline admitted. “He has the look of a man who knows his way around a mattress.”
Diana colored. Despite her maturity, the girl was relatively innocent. Well, that would change, and very soon now. Madeline rose and stretched sleepily. “I’m ready for bed myself, and it’s a sign of my age that I’m glad it’s an empty one.”
As Diana chuckled, Madeline crossed the room, but with her hand on the knob of the door she found herself turning to ask once more, “Are you truly sure this is the right thing to do?”
In the candlelight it was impossible to read Diana’s expression, but there was no mistaking the determination in her soft voice as she said, “That is one thing I am very sure of. For all my doubts and dallying, taking Gervase Brandelin as a lover is most definitely the right thing to do.”
* * *
Diana forced herself not to stand at the window like an anxious schoolchild. It was five minutes before nine o’-clock, and if there was one thing she had learned about Lord St. Aubyn, it was that he was prompt. When he arrived, the footman would escort him to her chambers, and then, and then...
Her hands clenched tight. She was as nervous as any seventeen-year-old virgin on her wedding night. She’d inserted the vinegar-soaked sponge that Madeline said was the best available protection against pregnancy, and she wore a discreetly provocative gown and robe of translucent silk in a shimmering blue fire shade that echoed her eyes.
Her hair was twisted into a simple style that would fall about her shoulders with the removal of just two pins, and she had set the stage in a manner that was richly seductive without being vulgar. The night was cool, and coal burned merrily in the grates of the sitting room and the adjoining bedroom, where the massive shape of the canopied bed could be dimly seen. Madeline had helped her prepare, then withdrawn, satisfied that her protégée was ready.
Diana had been able to convince Maddy that her anxieties were no more than normal, but now that she was alone she admitted to herself that she was terrified. No matter that intuition urged her forward, that St. Aubyn had treated her with kindness, that she was fiercely attracted to him. Even so, the thought of trusting herself to him chilled her hands and made her heart beat with the rapid pulse of panic.
Her thoughts returned to the night on the moor when she had decided to try the courtesan’s life. Truly, if she had known that the future held Gervase Brandelin, she would never have left Yorkshire. But it was too late to turn back; the tie that bound them was stronger than her individual will.
Just as her mind started to spiral once more into dark fears from her past, a knock on the front door sounded through the quiet house. Her nerves taut as newly tuned piano wire, Diana flinched, then glanced at the ormolu clock on the mantel. Two minutes before nine o’clock. Either the timepiece was slow or his lordship was impatient.
In less than a minute the knock sounded at her own door. Now that the moment had arrived, a fatalistic calm descended and she opened the door. For a moment they just gazed at each other, the air thrumming with tension between them. Gervase was dressed in the dark blue coat and buff pantaloons that were almost a uniform for men of his class, but expert tailoring, a beautifully fit body, and his forceful personality gave him the air of distinction that he wore so casually. His taut, fine-drawn face had the fierce and lonely beauty of a proud hawk, and he was frightening in his masculinity.
Then he smiled and extended one hand to her, and it was suddenly easy to grasp it and draw him inside. She closed the door, and before she had fully turned to face him, Gervase was embracing her, his mouth hungrily pressed to hers and his arms pulling her tight against him. From the feel of his hard body, he had no need for preliminaries.
Panic flared again. In most ways he was still a stranger, and though his fire warmed her, she needed more time; Diana knew that if they proceeded too quickly she would be too stiff and fearful to convince him that she was experienced.
She broke away, laying one finger over his mouth. “There is no need to hurry, my lord,” she said softly.
He smiled, the clear gray eyes wry. “I’m sorry. I know I’m too impatient, but I have been thinking of you all day. And all last night, too.” He placed his hands on her shoulders, gently kneading the muscles, and she could feel some of her nervousness depart, to be replaced by a different kind of tension.
“In fact, I’ve hardly thought of anything else since I met you.” His hands slid up her neck into her hair, expertly finding the hairpins and removing them. The thick chestnut masses tumbled down past her shoulders in wanton abandon.
“This is how I have been imagining you.” He stepped close again and leaned over, kissing her throat through the silken strands of hair. For a moment Diana reveled in the sensation, amazed that so many distant parts of her body would resonate to that gossamer touch.
It was time to put her plan into effect. Stroking the dark head that lay so close to hers, she whispered, “Gervase, there is something I would ask of you.”
He frowned, thinking that it was a singularly inappropriate time to discuss money. She had the right to raise the issue, since their relationship was one of business. But it was hard to think of anything other than how ravishing she was, clad in blue silk so sheer that the curves and shadows of her body were clearly visible beneath it.
He stepped back and reached into his pocket for the velvet jewelry box and handed it to her. She opened it and gasped, as well she should. The sapphire pendant was magnificent, of a deep lucent blue, and the setting and chain were beautifully wrought. He had spent some time in selecting the gem, and it was lavish enough to pay for a good deal of her time. “It is almost the color of your eyes, though less brilliant.”
“It’s beautiful! I’ve never had anything like this.” She looked up shyly. “Shall I put it on?”
He lifted the gem from the box, then circled behind her to fasten the chain around her neck, careful not to pull any of the delicate hairs at her nape. A mirror hung between the windows and she walked over to it, lifting one hand to touch the pendant admiringly. Gervase stood behind her, and her gaze met his in the mirror. “Thank you. It is very lovely. You chose well.”
Her voice was soft and inviting, and the cynical part of him observed how expensive presents had that effect on women. “I’m glad you like it,” he said, then parted her hair again to unclasp the chain. When she looked at him questioningly, he smiled. “It will be in the way and could be rather painful.”
She nodded in acknowledgment, then turned to face him as he replaced the pendant in its box and set it on the pier table. In the candlelight her eyes were almost black. “Actually, that was not what I wanted to discuss.”
While her expression was calm, her words came hesitantly and her clasped hands betrayed tension. He found it odd that a woman of her calling was so nervous. “You will think that I am foolish, but . . . there is only one first time for any pair of lovers.” Her face was earnest and very young as she lifted it to him. “I want tonight to be special.”
He laid one hand on her waist, feeling her slim warmth through the layered silk. “It will be. I promise that.”
She smiled briefly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “There are only so many ways of making love. What makes it special is what is here”—she reached up and touched his forehead—“and here.” She laid her hand on his heart.
Speaking carefully, as if using words she had rehearsed, she continued. “Tonight, let’s pretend that we are young lovers, coming together for the first time. I will play the maiden, and you the man who guides and teaches me.”
Lifting her hand to caress his cheek, she said softly, “In a way, it is true, since this is our first time, so why shouldn’t we enjoy the fantasy? Let us imagine, just for an hour or two, that the world is a simple place and that we can rediscover the wonders of first love and the awakening of passion.”
