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 Madeline had helped her prepare, then withdrawn, satisfied that her protégée was ready.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."
She smiled with deep promise. "Best of all, we can capture some of the wonder without the fear and awkwardness that curse real innocents."
Gervase hesitated. While taking one's time increased the pleasure, it hardly seemed necessary to playact as well. Diana was so exquisite that he needed no layer of dreams to increase his desire.
But as he studied her hopeful, anxious face, it seemed no great chore to act such a role. Women were different from men, and if it pleased her to spin a fantasy, it would cost him nothing to indulge her. With her Madonna face and air of gentle refinement, it was easy to imagine her a maiden giving herself for love, yet because she was a woman of experience, there would not be the fear of hurting her.
As he thought about it, the idea became exciting
. "Your wish is my command. Since I have never had quite the experience you describe, I shall have to think a moment how I would begin." He clasped his hands below her shoulders, his thumbs making slow circling motions through the silk on the tender flesh of her inner arms.
"I would start with talking," he said thoughtfully, "perhaps over a glass of wine. Would you happen to have some wine?"
Her eyes sparkled up at him. "Will brandy do, my lord?"
"It will do very nicely." As she crossed the room to where a decanter and goblets waited, he added, "Next, I would insist that you use my name. Titles don't lend themselves to intimacy."
She carefully poured three fingers of brandy into a goblet, then glanced up. "Very well... Gervase."
He hadn't realized how musical his name could sound. Before she could pour a second goblet, he took the decanter from her hand, replaced the stopper, and set it on the sideboard.
"We need only one. Also, it would be time to introduce a note of greater informality." He peeled off his coat and untied his cravat, tossing them casually over the back of a chair. Under the white shirt his shoulders were very broad, a striking contrast to his narrow hips and waist. A few strands of curling dark hair were visible at the open throat of his shirt.
Lifting the brandy glass, he guided her to the sofa with a light hand on her back, and they sat, their bodies close but not quite touching. He offered her the goblet and she sipped from it, her eyes holding his over the rim, then handed it back. He turned the goblet so that he drank from where her lips had touched. "We would begin slowly."
He rolled the brandy around in his mouth, savoring the smoothness of it before he swallowed, then held the goblet up to her mouth, tilting it so she could drink. "I would encourage you to drink enough that you would relax, but not so much as to make you unwell or unsure of what you are doing."
He watched the column of her throat flex as she swallowed, a motion he had never consciously noticed, but which was now deeply erotic. Drinking more of the brandy himself, he stretched his arm along the back of the sofa and toyed with her hair, running his fingers through the dark glossy strands. "Then I would tell you how deeply beautiful you are."
"Would I believe you?" she asked, a smile in her eyes.
"I would be prepared to swear on any number of Bibles." He set the goblet in her hand and reached out to sketch her features as he described them. "I would extol your night-blue eyes, your satiny skin, your ruby lips."
Diana's face sparkled with appreciative humor. "Do lovers never use more imaginative metaphors?"
He chuckled. "I doubt it. If they did, they would be poets. Lovers are more involved with each other than with fine phrases." He took another mouthful of brandy, no longer able to distinguish its fire from his own. "Since you are young and modest, I would avoid talking about your enticing breasts, your slim tantalizing waist, your rounded inviting hips."
A becoming hint of rose colored her face as his fingers lightly followed his words. "Quite right not to mention them—a modest maiden would find such talk too suggestive."
"Perhaps about now," he mused, "I would think it time to make different use of the brandy." He pulled aside the top of her robe, exposing the low-cut gown underneath and an expanse of gently swelling flesh. Dipping his forefinger in the brandy glass, he trailed it from the pulse point at the base of her throat toward the shadowed valley between her breasts. Then he leaned over and kissed along the brandied path, his mouth hot and firm against her.
As his lips moved to the edge of the gown, Diana's body quivered and she gave a shuddering gasp. "An innocent maiden would find this all very surprising." He paused and she hastened to add, "But not unpleasant. Not in the least."
He raised his head and smiled, his mouth mere inches from hers, his eyes soft and amused. The deep timbre of his voice a caress, he murmured, "Then I would retreat a little, to give you time to accustom yourself to the newness. But I would not retreat too far."
He leaned forward, closing the distance between them. This time his kiss was not hungry and demanding, as when he had first arrived, but leisurely and probing, bent on exploring every surface and texture of her yielding mouth.
With such a myriad of things to learn just about kissing, Diana wondered if she would ever live long enough to master all the other subtleties of making love. Since they had eased back against the arm of the sofa, balance no longer required her attention and she lifted her hands and buried them in the thick springiness of his dark curling hair.
After an endless, delicious embrace, Gervase pulled back and smiled, brushing a lock of hair from her cheek. "An innocent maiden might not know how to kiss that well."
So far, so good. He found her convincing, and even if her mind held doubts, her body seemed to know what to do. Diana laughed rather breathlessly. "Surely kissing would be one thing we would have practiced before now?"
"Mmm, doubtless you're right." He lifted her away from the sofa and slid the robe from her shoulders to pool on the cushions. Above her waist, the wisp of gown covered scarcely more than her breasts, and the silk was so sheer that the dark areolae were faintly visible.
Gervase's breathing was no longer even when he bent forward and took her right nipple in his mouth, the heat of his kiss scorching through the gauzy fabric. With his right hand he cupped her left breast and began to tease the nipple between thumb and forefinger. The combined assault created sharply pleasurable sensations and Diana's body tightened in response. Deep within her there was spreading fire, and her breath was a low moan as she pulled his head closer.
His own breathing uneven, Gervase stood and scooped her into his arms, her pliant body molding to his chest. "About now I would decide that you were ready for the next step." She felt the vibrations of his deep voice as she put her arms around his neck and pulled his head down for another kiss. His muscular arms held her effortlessly, and the kiss lasted as he carried her through the door and laid her on the high bed.
Sitting on the edge of the mattress, he stroked the silk-clad curves of her body, the coolness of the fabric belied by the warm body beneath. Diana lay back against the pillows, one slim arm entwined with his, her fairness a dramatic contrast to his dark skin. She might have been a shepherdess, giving herself trustingly to her beloved in some Elysian field where fear and betrayal would never be known. Her lapis eyes held exactly the shadow of anxiety that might be found in an innocent girl who both yearned for and feared the act of ultimate intimacy.
A five-branch candelabrum burned on the bedside table, and with a hand that trembled slightly, Gervase reached over and began pinching the candles out. "Now," he said huskily, "it would be time to extinguish the light so that your maidenly shyness would not be offended."
After snuffing four candles, he stopped. "Here, I think, I will diverge from the script. It would be a crime to hide your beauty in the dark."
The candle left burning was sufficient to illuminate the scene. Diana's blue eyes were vulnerable and intimate in the candlelight, bidding him enter an unknown world of warmth and welcome. Her lips were parted and the rapid rise and fall of her breasts testified to her response. One of her knees was drawn up, and shadows played suggestively under the skirt of her gown.
As Gervase absorbed the grave sweetness of her gaze, he was suddenly and completely overwhelmed by emotions unlike anything he had ever felt before. He had never been in love, his only experience with a virgin had been a searing disaster that haunted him still, but now Diana's fantasy came alive for him. Her gentle, sensuous beauty touched a vein of romanticism so deeply buried that he had not known it existed. With sudden ferocity, he wanted to believe in innocence, that one could begin again.
Bending over, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her with a hunger that went far beyond the physical. For once in his life he would throw away the guilty chains of living and imagine that he was worthy of loving and being loved. In reality such joy was forever unattainable, but for this handful of moments he would dream. "Oh, God, Diana, do
n't ever let me hurt you," he whispered, his voice rough with tenderness and passion. "You are so rare."
Her arms encircled him and he came down full length beside her for a kiss in which each of them gave and received equally. Only the fact that too much clothing separated them enabled him to eventually release her and sit up.
As he undid his cuffs, she reached up to unbutton his shirt. "Am I acting too boldly for my role?" she whispered as her hand slipped inside the shirt to caress his chest. Her palm brushed his softly bristling hair as her fingers made delicate explorations.
"Perhaps," Gervase gasped, "but don't stop." Amazing that such a light touch could arouse him so.
Her face showed a mischievous pleasure in his reaction, and it took a major act of will for him to stand and remove the rest of his clothing, leaving it in a heedless pile on the floor.
He slid one arm under her thighs to raise her as he removed her gown, leaving her fully exposed for his admiration. Her loveliness made him grateful that he had left the candle lit. Such beauty must be savored.
Lowering himself to her side, he laid one leg across hers to keep her close, then gave her breast the attention it deserved now that it was free of all restraint. The tautness of her nipple teased his tongue. When he was sure it could be roused no further, he murmured, "I would be very careful that no part of you would feel neglected," before giving the same thorough treatment to her other breast.
Diana whispered, "You, too, are beautiful," stroking his wide chest, caressing the hard planes of muscle and bone, the ridged battle scars. There was no spare flesh on him anywhere, every part of his lean body honed to taut strength. As her hands glided over his head and shoulders, her hips began an involuntary pulsing against him.
His hand stroked down her body, kneading and caressing her waist and stomach before reaching the silky triangle of hair at the juncture of her thighs. Gervase raised his mouth to kiss her lips at the same time that his fingers delicately penetrated to her sensitive, hidden depths. Her legs tensed and her sharp inhalation was so convincing that he could almost believe she was as innocent as the maiden of her fantasy. Lost in his own role, he murmured, "Just relax. We will take as long as you need." Raising his hand to her knees, he caressed her silken inner thighs, slowing massaging his way lower until she opened to him.