Chapter Thirty-One
John was one of the first to depart, his presence required in London on official business. The sun was sinking in the west as Guy walked with him to his carriage. “No news of Forney?”
“Unfortunately, no. It appears he has left the country.”
Guy nodded. “I doubt we’ll see him in England again. It would be foolish in the extreme for him to return. What of Countess Forney?”
“Her travel documents reveal she has returned to France.”
“A tidy end to it, then.”
“It is never tidy, my friend.” John grinned. “Enjoy rusticating here with your bride. I will give you two months before we see you in London again.”
Guy laughed. “You believe so?”
“You displayed talent in your handling of Forney and his cronies. We may have need of you.”
“Merci, but I think not. To live at Rosecroft with Hetty is all I wish for.”
John grinned. “We shall see. Farewell.” He tapped the roof with his cane, and the carriage trundled away down the drive.
Guy and Hetty saw off the rest of their guests. As they walked back over the gravel drive to the house, he turned to his bewitching bride. “Your father has given us a wedding present.”
Hetty’s brows rose. “He said nothing to me. What might that be?”
“The General.”
With a perplexed frown, she searched Guy’s eyes. “Father gave you The General? He did not include me in this gift?”
“Au contraire, The General is yours. But, it is conditional on you being careful and not jumping over high gates which is dangerous with a sidesaddle.”
Hetty raised an eyebrow. “Then I promise not to use a sidesaddle.”
Guy chuckled. “It would be foolish of me to expect otherwise. You’ll always surprise me, my darling.”
“And that bothers you?”
“No, I expect it will be very good for me.”
She giggled. “Do you think Father always knew I rode him?”
“I don’t know.” He traced a finger over her cheek. “He admires your spirit. As I do.”
“I can’t believe The General is mine.” She smiled. “I’ll ride him every day.”
“May I ride with you?”
She pouted. “To rein me in?”
Guy leaned against the doorframe and pulled her against him, enjoying her warm curves. “Never. Because I don’t want to be apart from you.” He sighed. “I will try not to be too protective of you, mon amour.”
“And I’ll try never to cause you to worry.” She turned in his arms to laugh up at him.
He raised his brows. “You’ll try?”
She laughed. “As long as you are not unreasonable in your demands.”
He patted her derrière. “Coquine!”
Behind them, Hammond coughed discreetly. “One of the gardeners has brought something for you, my lord.”
Guy expected it to be a wedding offering of some kind, from one of the tenants or the servants, but when the butler placed the object in his hands Guy was speechless.
“He found it under a hedge he pruned on the western boundary, my lord. It must have been dislodged when the horse jumped over it.”
Guy looked at Hetty. “My portmanteau!”
“How wonderful!” Hetty put her hands to her cheeks. “Is everything still there?”
Guy unlatched it and searched inside. He removed the papers bearing the Fortescue coat of arms and the certificate of his birth, travel documents, and others pertaining to his ownership of several English properties. More importantly, his fingers closed over the box containing the seal matrix, a heavily ornate ring, which he disliked wearing. It was all there.
He took a deep shuddering breath. “Thank you, Hammond. And please thank…”
“Hislop, my lord.”
“Convey my sincere thanks to Hislop. Tell him I shall speak to him directly.”
Guy and Hetty walked along the passage. “Dare I hope this discovery means the fates are now in our favor?” Hetty said.
“You may, mon amour,” Guy said. “But we will handle anything that comes our way, together.”
They found Eustace in the library. “What a surprise.” Eustace held out his hand. “May I see them?” He searched the documents. “Yes, this is the Fortescue coat of arms, the same as the one above the fireplace in the great hall.” He nodded his approval and handed them back.
Hetty studied the azure chevron with its three golden birds. “What do these birds signify?”
“Nobility acquired through bravery, prowess or intelligence,” Guy said.
“The martlet, or heraldic swallow, is seen to be swift and elegant,” Eustace added.
“The birds don’t appear to have feet,” Hetty said.
“In a medieval myth, the swallow had no feet. It signifies that one has to subsist on the wings of his virtue and merit alone.”
“Which perfectly describes my brother’s life up till now,” Genevieve said as she entered the room.
Guy smiled at his sister, aware of how much he would miss her.
“I’m for a ride. Who will join me?” Genevieve asked. “I want to see more of the estate. C’est très beau.” A mischievous smile lit her eyes. “I shall be gone from here in two days.”
When Guy glanced at Hetty, she trembled at the hot impatience in his blue gaze. “We will miss you dreadfully, Genevieve,” she said with honesty. “I shall be delighted to ride with you. Let’s change into our habits.”
The crisp air was scented with pine as they rode over the fields. Guy reined his horse alongside Hetty’s while Genevieve rode on ahead. “I want to make love to you, but if we begin, we won’t reappear until tomorrow.”
She giggled. “It’s courteous to remain with our guests until bedtime.”
“Oui, bedtime,” he said with ill-disguised impatience, and trotted after his sister who had disappeared into the trees. Hetty followed, suffering a good deal of impatience herself.
The sun was disappearing behind the mansion’s roof when the three returned to the house. As they climbed the stairs with the intention of changing out of their riding clothes before embarking on a game of whist, Hetty turned to Guy. “You promised to show me the secret tunnel.”
“Not me.” Genevieve gave a shudder and laughed. She continued to her bedchamber while Guy took Hetty’s hand and led her off toward the solar.
With a lit candle, they walked down past the kitchen into the depths of the hall. Hetty paused on the stairs.
“Are you afraid?” Guy asked.
She bit back tears. “When I think of what you endured here, I want to cry.”
He pulled her close. “I have put that behind me, Hetty.” He took her arm, and they descended to the floor below.
“I did wonder if you might prefer a calm and sensible wife like Marina.”
He laughed. “I do not.” He stopped her at the bottom with a hand on her arm, the candle dipping dangerously. “If you change into a milksop of a wife, I’ll lock you up in the tunnel and get myself a mistress.”
“I shall escape and pull out her hair!”
“That’s more like the woman I love,” Guy said with a rueful smile. His smile slipped away. “Vincent’s death has been difficult to bear, Hetty.”
She gasped and slid her arms around his waist. “Oh, my darling, of course it is.”
He groaned as he held her within his free arm. “I don’t want you to change. Just be that spirited young woman I fell in love with. I consider myself a very lucky fellow to have you.”
Relieved, Hetty kissed him. “Come and show me this tunnel.”
The long storeroom was shadowy and dim. Guy held the candle high and took a moment to gain his bearings. He walked to the far corner. With prior knowledge, he had little trouble locating the secret door. It sprung open, revealing a pitch-black passage. Unpleasant smells of damp and rat droppings flooded out.
“It’s horrible.” Hetty edged closer to him. “I’ve no intention of venturing inside.”
“There’s nothing to see as the servants have cleaned it out.” He chuckled. “Unless you wish to follow the tunnel to its end?”
She shuddered. “I’ll view it from the wood.”
Guy dropped the candle. It rolled around, and before he could reach it, went out. “Are you, all right?” she asked.
“I am now.” His arms found her in the dark and his mouth claimed hers. She held on to him as all her other senses came into play, his arousing male scent, the rasp of rough fabric beneath her fingers as his big, hard body pressed against her, his breath sweetened with the wine he had drunk earlier, the slide of his lips over hers, teasing her lower lip with his teeth, and the taste of him when he entered her mouth.
Guy moved to put space between them, still holding her upright. If he hadn’t, dazed and breathless, she might have fallen. “Dash it all, not here, Hetty,” he said heavily. “There are many ways to make love, and I mean for us to try them all. But not here, not now.”
He picked her up and climbed the steps with her in his arms. In the upper passage, they met a maid who covered her mouth with a hand and dropped into a curtsy.
Guy carried her toward the main staircase.
“You can put me down now.”
“If I put you down, someone will whisk you away,” he muttered. “And I am going to make love to you. In our bed.”
Hetty should have been embarrassed. They were expected in the salon for a game of cards. She clutched the velvet collar of his riding coat and gave herself up to the wonderful sensation of being crushed against his chest, listening to the steady metronome of his heartbeat. What she had yearned for was finally to happen. She wondered if he would do all those things to her, that he spoke of in the hut while the snowstorm whirled around them, which seemed like years ago now.
Guy entered their bedchamber, kicked the door shut, and slowly lowered her to the floor.
“We are finally alone, I can scarcely believe it,” Hetty said as he turned the key in the lock.
They began to undress. It seemed a lifetime ago that she’d had helped him in the hunting lodge. She struggled to equate that man with the one before her; he seemed so changed. She had thought him an arrogant rake back then.
He methodically stripped her down to her chemise, and finding herself naked, she scurried to the bed.
Guy laughed. When the last stitch of his clothing was added to the pile on the chair, he walked over to her completely unconcerned about his nakedness. She clutched the coverlet to her chest and gasped at his beauty. Satiny olive skin stretched over long elegant bones and well-defined muscles. The wound in his side, now a purplish scar, testament to how close he’d come to death. Hetty was stunned into silence.
Guy came to where she sat on the bed. Wordlessly, he removed the coverlet from her fingers. She slid her arms around his waist and pressed her lips to the scar, then cupped his buttocks, strong and smooth beneath her hands.
He pressed her back on the bed. His arms resting on each side of her, erotic excitement sparked in his eyes as he lowered his head. His mouth demanded a response, and as she moaned against his lips, their kisses caught fire. She danced her fingers over the defined planes and soft dark hair of his chest and down, his galloping heart beneath her hand. Then tracing the line of dark hair over the ribbed muscles of his hard stomach to his taut member. Curious, she took it in her hand, testing the length, sensing the strength beneath the soft skin.
Guy lavished attention on her breasts, drawing each nipple to a peak with his tongue as he stroked her feminine folds and the pearl beneath. His teasing fingers drew ripples, then waves, and shudders from her body. Hetty arched against him, moving restlessly, unsure of what she craved, except more.
“Please, Guy, please…,” she murmured, overcome with an urgent desire to be one with him.
*
“Let’s take it slow, mon amour.”
Guy seized control before Hetty’s ministrations to his cock upset both their plans.
She coiled her arms around his neck and pressed her breasts against his chest. Their rapid breaths mingled as their passionate kisses robbed them of breath.
Hetty’s eager responses matched his. He wanted her desperately but intended it to be memorable. The first time for a woman was not always good, he’d been told. Guy scooped her up in his arms and eased her back onto the bed. He planned to take his time, and continued to stroke, finding her moist and ready for him. She moaned and clung to him, pushing her hips up to meet his gently probing fingers. As she gripped his hair none too gently, he trailed kisses across the soft swell of her belly. His fingers tangled in the soft nest of fiery curls and he breathed in the musky smell of her arousal, following his fingers with his tongue.
“Oh, what are you doing?” Hetty gave him a wild look, her face flushed.
“Shush.”
Hetty bucked her hips and moaned. She shook her head, pushed him away, and then pulled him back against her. “Yes, my love,” he urged as she tensed and her thighs shuddered. She came with a long cry which turned into a deep sigh.
Hetty fell back and gazed up at him, her eyes half-closed as she flicked her swollen bottom lip with a pink tongue, looking utterly abandoned.
Guy groaned. It was time. This was too delicious, too exciting, and he’d wanted it too long.
He slipped between her thighs and pressed himself against her entrance, she stilled. Her body was ready for him, rosy and wet. He searched her eyes which gazed at him with love and apprehension. “This may hurt a little.”
She shook her head as if incapable of replying.
With a thrust of his hips, he nudged inside her, met with a resistance, and pushed through. She drew her breath in sharply.
“Shall I go on?”
“Yes,” she said cautiously.
“Am I hurting you?”
She bit her lip. “A little.”
He paused.
“No, don’t stop, please.”
Guy began to move, slowly, as her body accepted him.
Hetty released a breath and drew him close.
He withdrew and pushed in again, then settled into a rhythm. As her body rose to join his, she threw back her head with a mew of pleasure. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as if she could pull him closer. Her body closed around him like a hot velvet glove, the pleasure so intense, he fought to retain control.
*
Hetty lay sprawled beside Guy, his hand resting on her breast, rising and falling with her rapid breaths.
“Je t’aime ma chéri,” he said huskily. “You are my life.”
“Oh, my darling. I love you.” She could barely speak, her body weighed down with a pleasurable fatigue. She settled beside him and closed her eyes.
She woke as the soft patina of moonlight slid across the room through the open curtains. It must have been close to midnight. While she’d slept, Guy had put a taper to the fire and pulled the covers over them. He stirred beside her, woke, and gathered her into his arms. She snuggled against the warm length of his body, settled her head on his shoulder, and slept again.
They woke to birdsong. Drowsy and exhausted, Hetty sat back against the pillows as they fortified themselves with the hot chocolate the maid had brought.
She put down the cup and pushed back the covers.
“Where are you going?” His eyes were heavy-lidded with sleep and awakening desire.
“I was just going to ring for the maid to draw my bath.”
“Not yet.” He drew her back into bed.
Hetty leaned into his hard body as the familiar sensations of warmth and need flooded through her. How she loved this man. Her need for him robbed her of breath as she pressed her mouth to his.
Hunger drove them downstairs at luncheon to find Genevieve and Eustace had tactfully gone to visit her father and Marina.
Ravenous, they devoured a late breakfast. Then, holding hands, they walked over the grounds enjoying order restored to the gardens, the hedges trimmed, the parterre garden free of weeds, the roses pruned, and the lawns scythed. Gardeners were raking up the first of the autumn leaves to fall and burning them, the smoke coiling into the sky. Rosecliff Hall had been restored. But to Hetty, it was more than a restoration. Rosecroft Hall had been lifted from the mortmain past, which had held it in thrall ever since Guy’s father had deserted it. “I can’t wait for you to see how glorious the estate is in the spring.”
“We may not be here in the spring,” Guy said.
She looked up at him. “Why? Where shall we be?”
“Genevieve wants us to visit her in Paris,” he said with a grin.
“Oh, Guy. I’d love to!”
He lifted a curl to press a kiss on her neck and warmth spiraled down her spine. “I knew you would. But Genevieve may have to wait. It may not be advisable for you to travel.”
She leaned into him and smiled. “Might I be with child?”
“Perhaps.” He leveled a glowing look at her.
“I expect the others will return soon.” She wanted to be alone with him and found a similar need in his eyes. He began to turn back to the house.
She tugged at his arm. “Let’s walk to the summerhouse by the lake.”
Guy’s brows rose. For a moment, she thought he might refuse, but then his eyes smoldered with desire and he grabbed her hand.