Chapter 19
April 29, 1814
Grey stood up, smiling, and gestured toward the woman on the other side of the table. “Natalya, you must meet the gracious lady who has agreed to be my cook. This is Laviolet Pritchard. Laviolet, allow me to present Natalya Beauvisage.”
“A pleasure, mam’selle,” Laviolet said in a lilting French accent. “I believe I know your grandmere. I’ve helped cook for her parties. She is a woman of great beauty and character.”
“I agree,” Natalya said warmly. “It’s good to meet you, Laviolet.” She looked at Grey with curiosity. “How did you find a cook so quickly?”
“Speed discovered her when he went to the market this morning. Laviolet came to Philadelphia from Santo Domingo, during the slave revolts many years ago, and married a cabinetmaker. It seems that her last employer died recently, and Speed heard her mention that she was seeking a new position.” He grinned. “Fate is kind to me, don’t you agree?”
“You do have the devil’s own luck,” Natalya replied, with a touch of irony.
“Laviolet insists on knowing all my tastes in food, hence the notes she is making.” Grey couldn’t resist the opportunity to further annoy Natalya. “I fear that she will spoil me so outrageously that I may never leave Philadelphia....”
“You may be too fat to fit through the doorway,” Natalya agreed mildly, nodding. “Would it be possible for you to spare me a few minutes of your precious time?”
Watching them with a mixture of curiosity and amusement, Laviolet waved a slim hand at Grey. “I have a great deal to occupy me for the moment, m’sieur. Perhaps you would allow me to prepare a proper tea for you and your guest?”
He nodded, brightening. “Splendid! Might I have some oysters as well?”
“It’s not the usual custom to combine oysters with tea, but for you I shall make an exception,” she answered. “Where may I serve you?”
Grey pondered this. It seemed likely that Natalya would find cause to raise her voice at some time during their conversation, and he preferred that they not be overheard. “We’ll be in the upstairs sitting room. Have Speed carry the tray; he’s accustomed to physical exertion,” he told her, eyes twinkling.
Then, taking hold of Natalya’s elbow, he guided her out of the kitchen. They had proceeded only a little way down the corridor when she whispered loudly, “Why are you taking me upstairs? I hardly think—”
“This is precisely the reason,” Grey cut in. “You seem to have so little control over your temper that I thought I would spare you the further embarrassment of servants’ gossip. Perhaps if we conduct this interview on another floor, we can avoid sharing its contents with the entire household.”
Cheeks burning, Natalya realized that he was dominating the situation once again. As they started up the flying staircase, she said, “You have settled very quickly into your role of master here; so quickly that one might imagine this house belonged to you! Lest you forget, sir, you are here through the benevolence of the Beauvisage family, and—”
“If I don’t behave myself you’ll have me tossed out on my ear?”
“Kindly refrain from mocking me!”
“I’ll be happy to, if you will likewise refrain from adopting the manner of a toplofty dowager speaking to an insolent gamekeeper.” Grey tightened his grip on her elbow when she tried to pull away from him. “For God’s sake, relax. I won’t gobble you up the moment we’re alone.”
Remembering what had occurred between them on her bed the night before, Natalya shot him a murderous look. “Past experience has taught me that you are capable of nearly any transgression.”
He shrugged lightly and chuckled. “Well, perhaps where you are concerned...”
They had reached the top of the stairs, and Natalya paused for a moment to look down. “How I adored this staircase when I was a child. First I would stand at the bottom and look up, wondering how it could not collapse when someone ascended. I used to worry that it would do so while I was on it. Then Papa told me that it was called a flying staircase, and that because of some magic means it needed no support. He took me up and down, up and down, until I had conquered my fears.”
“How old were you?” Grey asked softly.
“Oh... four, I suppose. It’s one of my earliest memories.”
“This is a wonderful house, but then the Beauvisage family seems to have an affinity for them. I really am grateful to be staying here, you know, and I would be desolate if you tossed me out.”
Disarmed by his honesty, Natalya turned away from the carved banister and started toward the sitting room. “Well, it’s all academic, isn’t it? I couldn’t have you put out even if I wanted to. It was Papa who gave you leave to occupy the house, so this is between the two of you. From the sound of it, you’ve charmed him mightily.”
“Do I detect a note of disapproval in your voice?” Grey followed her into the cozy sitting room, which was filled with bookcases, luminous watercolors of gardens painted by Lisette Beauvisage, a pair of blue-and-gold-striped sofas that faced each other on a Kuba rug, and two brocade wing chairs. The glass double doors at the back of the room opened onto a white-pillared porch from which steps descended to the walled garden below. Natalya walked over to look outside for a moment before taking a seat on one of the sofas. To her dismay, Grey chose to sit next to her. “Tell me the truth now,” he pressed. “Why are you really so annoyed by my presence? Is it because we’ve made love?”
Her long-lashed aqua eyes were wide as she turned to face him. “I must ask you not to speak of that night again, sir!”
“To anyone else, or to you? I certainly haven’t told anyone if that’s what’s worrying you, nor shall I.” Grey began to fold back his cuffs as he continued, “Rather warm up here, isn’t it? Perhaps it’s just the sunshine. Ah, I can see by your expression that you’re in no mood to discuss the weather.” He grinned slightly in spite of himself. “My darling minx—”
“Don’t call me that!”
“What’s become of the charming free spirit who wore her hair loose in the breeze, sitting on the quarterdeck of the Rover? Or, more to the point, where is the passionate minx who came to my bed just a few short nights ago and insisted that I make love to her? Are you not the woman who reveled in the beauty of her own naked body and—”
“Enough!” An errant curl brushed Natalya’s burning cheek as she leaned forward and clapped her hand over his mouth. “That was in the past, and I don’t wish to discuss it ever again!”
Grey removed her hand firmly. “The past is part of you, my sweet. The pleasure and awakening you felt that night were real. You were honest about it then. What has changed?”
“Everything,” she hissed. “The only reason I was able to do something so reckless as that—”
“Excuse me, sir,” Jasper Speed interjected from the doorway. “Your tea?”
Natalya blushed furiously as the stocky, redheaded manservant placed the tray on the table before them. “Good day, Miss Beauvisage,” he said, with a smile. “I hope you are well?”
“Yes, Speed,” she replied through gritted teeth. “How do you find Philadelphia?”
“Highly interesting, miss. Do you take milk?”
“We’ll pour our own,” Grey said, already squeezing lemon juice over the closest oyster on the plate. “Did you have any luck with your errand, Speed?”
“Possibly, sir.”
Grey looked up, silver eyes agleam. “I’ll speak to you later, then.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll be downstairs.”
He was gone then, and Natalya poured tea for them both while Grey savored an oyster. There was also a little plate of cakes, and one of sliced apples. After a moment Grey looked over at her expectantly and said, “Do go on. You were saying that you only behaved so recklessly—”
“I remember!” Natalya’s color was high and her hands shook slightly as she stirred milk into her tea. “You know, I really haven’t the slightest desire to continue this conversation.”
“But I do.” There was an undercurrent of steel in his calm voice. “You behave as if I have done you some terrible wrong, as if the mere sight of me is cause for the most unrelenting aggravation, and I believe that I deserve an explanation.”
“Fine; then you shall have one.” Taking a deep breath, Natalya continued, “I hope that I do not have to repeat all the reasons I originally cited for coming to your cabin. I wanted to have... that experience, and since I don’t plan to marry, you seemed a logical person to... have it with.” She could feel the blood rising to her cheeks again and rushed ahead. “I thought we were about to part! If I’d known that you would stay in Philadelphia—”
“Ah, I thought so,” he interjected curtly. “That very night, when I suggested that you wanted me because you believed you’d never see me again, you protested that your motive was passion, not practicality. How would you feel if a man did the same thing to you—seduced you, shared your bed, and then hoped to be rid of you forever?”
She stared at him in shock. How had he managed to twist everything so that she was being painted as a cold-hearted harlot? “That’s not fair! You know I’m not like that!”
“I know you’re confused,” Grey remarked laconically, leaning forward to spear another oyster.
“If I’m confused, it’s your doing!” Despite her fury, Natalya was struck by the endearing way his mouth puckered slightly as he savored the oyster’s tangy blend of salt water and lemon. She fought an urge to smile. “You misled me, Grey. What I—we—did was crazy. I allowed myself to—to—”
“You needn’t search for proper-sounding words,” he said imperturbably. “I remember exactly what you did.”
She tried to ignore him. “I did it because I wanted to, but also because I thought it would be safe, that it wouldn’t haunt me. I wasn’t being callous. You implied that you were going to deliver me to Philadelphia and return to England.”
“I said that I would be out of your life before spring waned,” Grey corrected her. “We’re only at the brink of May, my dear.”
Jumping up, Natalya began to pace in front of the ornate glass doors. “Is this a game you are playing? Do you enjoy watching me squirm?”
He shrugged. “I may enjoy watching you come to grips with the fact that you cannot control other people, least of all me. You had everything worked out, planned down to the details of our lovemaking and the farewell speech that you would deliver to me on the dock.” Draining his teacup, he returned it to its saucer and added, “I fear I don’t do very well with other people’s plans.”
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Natalya cried. “Was it so horrid for me to plan and dream what my life would be like once I returned to Philadelphia? I almost wonder if you are doing your best to disrupt my homecoming because your own, in London, was fraught with disappointment!”
Grey rose with casual grace and crossed to stand before her. “You don’t know the first thing about it.” The silvery flame in his eyes betrayed him as he grasped her hands in his and said, “Furthermore, I hate to puncture your bubble of self-importance, but I have legitimate business in Philadelphia.” His grip tightened slightly. “If you believed that you could come here today and browbeat me into leaving, you were mistaken. I am not a character in one of your bloody books. You cannot write me out of this or any other scene until I am damned well ready to go.”
Natalya’s heart seemed to stop as she absorbed the raw passion in his voice; she was paralyzed. In the next instant, the sound of her own heartbeat seemed to fill her body. Her palms were moist, and when she looked into Grey’s eyes it was as if she’d stepped off a precipice. What was happening?
“In any case...” Slowly he drew her near until their bodies touched, all the while holding her gaze. “You don’t want me to leave. You thrive on my presence, whether you can admit it or not.”
A tide of conflicting emotions surged up to torment her. She ached and knew not why. Her senses were dizzy with Grey; coherent thought was impossible. When his hands moved to gather her into his embrace, she made a low sound of protest and tried to struggle. Grey tipped her chin up, and she saw the heat and will and something elusive in his eyes.
“Yield to me, Natalya,” he said in a voice so rich with texture that it was like a caress.
She gasped with pleasure when he began to kiss her, his mouth leisurely yet insistent as it worked its magic. Her spencer had come open to reveal the fine muslin beneath, and her breasts strained against Grey’s chest. With a will of their own, her arms rounded his neck and her lips parted so that her tongue could find his. Natalya could feel the muscles in his thighs through the gauzy fabric of her gown. His body was like a drug, infusing her with a heady, sweet helplessness. Tears pricked her eyes when Grey bent her backward, his lips traveling down her neck, burning as they tasted the curves of her throat and breasts. A muffled voice in the back of her mind scolded her, but she was powerless to heed it. Bewildered but deliriously happy, she sank her fingers into his gleaming raven hair and pressed him closer.
Through the muslin bodice, Grey felt her nipples harden in response to the touch of his hands and lips. Christ, he thought, she is almost more than mortal man can realize. Everything about her was utterly, glowingly exquisite; a lush feast for his senses. And, most tantalizing of all, was the formidable spirit and mind inside Natalya’s glorious body. He kissed her bare shoulder, then the soft baby curls along her hairline. Soon her tawny gold hair would be loose, and he would bury his face in it, inhaling its fragrance.
Without a word, he swung her off the floor and up into his arms. As he carried her into the bedroom, Natalya thought giddily that it must be wonderful to be a man, a strong, reckless man like Grey who could take whatever he wanted. She knew she shouldn’t let him take her, but she was unwilling to deny herself this joy.
Natalya had been in this bedchamber many times in the past, but it seemed different now that Grey was in residence. His trunk sat on the Persian carpet, his neckcloth was draped over the back of a chair, his brandy winked from the mantel, and his books were stacked on the Chippendale lowboy next to the bed. The spacious forest green and beige room was dominated by a Hepplewhite tall post bed with a deep feather tick covered by soft sheets and quilts. Grey deposited Natalya on the edge of the bed and smiled at her.
“You look like Satan himself,” she remarked, without displeasure.
“At sea you compared me to a pirate. I must be gaining depravity in your estimation!” He grinned at her, teeth flashing white, as his eyes roamed from her loosened curls to the radiant glow on her face to the creamy expanse of her neck and shoulders. “You, my darling, look like a goddess.”
Natalya watched, her heart racing, as he pulled off his boots. It struck her again how much he had changed since they’d left England. He’d always been strikingly attractive... compelling, certainly. But now, with his bronzed skin and rugged, healthy vitality, he was irresistible. If he had looked like this when he’d come to Chateau du Soleil, she thought, Uncle Nicky would never have put me in his care!
“Turn around,” Grey murmured as he leaned against the bed, flicking open the buttons of his shirt. When Natalya gave him a quick glance and then obeyed, he massaged the tension from her neck with lean, strong fingers. Then, as he felt her relax, he bent to press feather-soft kisses at her nape before drawing the pins from her hair. Long, luxuriant curls spilled down her back, and Grey ran his fingers through the shining, rippling mass, lightly touching her brow and temples as he did so. Her skin was like satin, her hair like spun silk.
Natalya swam in a sea of blissful sensation, tingling from head to toe under his skilled hands. Finally, as his fingers strayed to the tiny fastenings of her gown, she became aware of the heat blossoming between her legs. The blue-sprigged gown opened to reveal her slim back, and she waited for his touch. A moment passed, accompanied by the rustle of clothes, then Grey ran a fingertip down her spine, and she let out her breath in a gasping sigh.
“Beautiful,” he whispered, his mouth trailing fire over her shoulder. He slid the gown forward, caressing her as he pulled the short, puffed sleeves down over her hands. When his chest with its light mat of black hair skimmed her back, Natalya knew that he was naked. Her head dropped back against his shoulder, and their eyes met for an instant before Grey reached up to cup her breasts. His touch was firmer now, and she welcomed it, feeling her breasts swell against his hands, the nipples taut and tingling between his fingertips.
“Grey,” she breathed, arching as her arousal intensified.
“Mmm.” He scorched her neck with kisses and shifted so that she could feel him, throbbingly erect, against the small of her back.
“I want to touch you.” Natalya’s voice was low and rich, like a stranger’s... a woman’s.
He turned her into the quilts then and removed the rest of her clothes. Natalya’s hair flowed over the sheets, a mane of honey on the dusk-tinted bed, and the sight of her delectable body was almost more than he could bear.
Reaching up, Natalya ran her hands over the soft hair on his chest, memorizing each muscle and ridge. Since the night on the Rover, she had tried to erase her memories of Grey’s body and the chiseled splendor of his face, but they had broken through in her dreams. Now, touching his warm, golden brown skin, she smiled, surrendering to the fates that drew them together. Her hand grazed his manhood and she whispered, “Please, kiss me.”
“With pleasure,” he replied, smiling. He lay over her, one knee between her thighs, and kissed her long and deeply. As their tongues caressed, he could feel Natalya’s moistness against him. He longed to plunge inside her and find release but held himself back. Their passion mounted as he branded her with his mouth and fingers, exploring her throat, lingering over her breasts, nipping gently at her sides, the softness of her belly, her tender inner thighs.
Natalya moaned with pleasure and moved her hips against him. Slowly, brazenly, he kissed her there, and there, but stopped before she could realize what he’d dared. Her eyes opened when his face returned to her view. Wrapping her arms around Grey’s tapering back, she kissed him with shameless ardor, moving rhythmically against the skilled fingers that had slipped down to touch her intimately. Burning, she cried aloud as release came at last in crashing waves of exquisite sensation.
He pushed into her then, savoring the feel of her contractions. Natalya was riding a fierce tide of rapture, and the fusion of their bodies only took her higher. She loved the raw abandon of Grey’s face above her, the rasp of his hair-roughened thighs against her own satiny flanks, the pounding of their hips as he thrust deep inside her again and again. When both of them were covered with a sheen of perspiration, Grey reached his own fiery, heart-stopping climax. Shuddering, he lowered himself with unsteady hands and rested against the fragrant tumble of Natalya’s hair.
“Christ, I can barely speak,” he managed to mutter after a time. “How do you feel?”
“Shall I tell you the truth?”
It was relief to detect a piquant note in her voice. “By all means.”
“I’m actually quite splendid.”
“Good. That’s how you ought to feel.” Gathering his strength, he rose on an elbow and gazed down at her beautiful, flushed face. “You’re looking splendid, too. Very womanly.”
Natalya put out a hand and touched his hair, fingering the silver strands among the ebony. “I wonder what it all means... and yet I’m afraid to wonder.”
Grey gave her a rueful smile. “I think I’d rather not know at the moment.” Dropping back against the pillows, he gazed up at the canopy and tried to clear his mind of everything—past, future... everything but this one satisfying moment.
Natalya told herself it didn’t matter, and yet there came an ache around her heart, and her sense of ebullience faded. Pulling up the soft sheets and quilts, she lay back beside Grey and thought how little she really knew of herself and her own hidden needs. Why had she succumbed to him... with such reckless joy? An hour ago she wouldn’t have believed that they could be lying together in the burnished rose twilight, Grey’s long fingers idly caressing the curve of her breast. It was frightening not to know what would happen next, for she clearly had less control over herself—and much less over him—than she had previously thought. Turning her head slightly, she stole a glance up at Grey. His hair ruffled back from his brow and his features relaxed, he appeared disarmingly boyish, and she felt a mutinous weakness steal over her. What did it mean?
A knock came at the door then, rousing them from their separate reveries. Startled, Grey sat up, then glanced down at Natalya and laid a finger over her parted lips. “What is it?” he called.
“It’s me, sir—Fedbusk,” the unlikely butler whispered loudly. “I seen her with me own eyes! ’Twas my lady! Just now, on the street, sir!”
Grey’s eyes sharpened, and Natalya saw the muscles in his arms flex unconsciously. She could almost feel his thoughts. “I’ll be down in a moment, Fedbusk, and we’ll discuss it then.”
“That’s not all, sir,” Fedbusk persisted, clearing his throat. “There’s a man downstairs name of Beauvisage. Says he’s lookin’ for his daughter!”
Natalya, whose heart was already thundering in panic and confusion, gave a little cry and pressed the covers closer to her body. “Papa?” she moaned. “Good God!”