Chapter 23
The quiet was almost deafening around them as their panting ceased and their breathing slowly returned to normal.
Drew tightened his arms around her so she was splayed fully against his chest.
“Oh, my God.” Marianne sighed deeply then shivered. “Is it always like this? Does every person feel this intensity?”
Drew rubbed his hands up and down her arms. “You have gooseflesh. You’re chilled. Tighten your legs around my hips and I’ll take you to bed and warm you up.” When he felt her arms around his neck and her legs firmly against his hips and backside, he rose from the floor holding her tightly against him.
He reached the bed, grabbed the covers, and tossed them back, then climbed into it still holding Marianne against his chest. Once they were lying side by side, he tugged the covers back over them. “There. You’ll warm up quickly now.”
Marianne snuggled up against him. “Are you avoiding my question?”
“Of course, not. I’m just making sure you’re comfortable.” He tightened the covers around them. “Are you warming up?”
“Yes. But you haven’t answered my question. Does everyone feel such intensity?”
“I cannot speak for everyone but from discussions I’ve had with the monks and teachers at the monastery, the answer would be no. They explained it takes a special connection to feel what we just did.”
“Oh, my. I am . . . stunned. I just didn’t know. Our first time . . . Well, it wasn’t like that our first time.” She laid her head against his chest and sighed.
“It certainly wasn’t.” Drew stroked her hair. “I knew little about what we were doing at that time and I’m guessing you knew even less.”
Marianne yawned. “Will it be like that every time?”
Drew smiled to himself. He could make no promises but he would spend the rest of his life making love to her as often as she wished to share that feeling of intense intimacy with her. “Well, maybe not every time. I would expect it will change as we grow old together. It will probably be intense in different ways as we fit together over the years.”
“Yes.” She yawned again as her voice faded. “Over the years . . . it will change.”
She drifted to the land of dreams.
He could only hope they would be beautiful, happy dreams after what they had just shared.
He cuddled her close and relaxed himself into sleep.
~ ~ ~
Drew leaned against the window jamb and buttoned his trousers as he studied the gardens and park sprawled out below. The sky, black velvet studded with diamond stars, featured a waxing crescent moon that hung low over the horizon.
Barely past ten o’clock in the evening according to the clock on the mantel, he awoke from the lack of food. They had missed both dinner and supper and luncheon was many hours before.
He tugged the bell pull, then asked for a tray of food when Marianne’s maid, Ellen, arrived to answer the call. With a pert curtsy and a brief nod, the maid went to fetch sustenance.
Expecting his wife to rouse from slumber sooner rather than later as she had also not eaten recently, he went over to stoke the fires in the hearth and bring the temperature in the room somewhere closer to warmth. With the fire rekindled and the heat coming full on, he settled on the settee to contemplate the flames and the evening’s events.
His reverie was interrupted by a knock on the dressing room door. Releasing the latch, he found Ellen with a tray so full of food it was a wonder she could carry it.
“Thank you. I’ll take it from here.” He grasped both handles firmly to relieve her of the burden.
The maid went on her way.
He set the tray on the tea table near the hearth.
“Drew?”
Looking back over his shoulder, he discovered his wife stretching, her breasts bare and the blankets in her lap. “I’m here. Come sit with me by the fire. The room is warm and Ellen has just brought us a tray.”
He watched as she made her way out of the bed and looked for something to put on. Finding his shirt, she tossed it over her head and tugged it down over her hips.
He felt his body respond instantaneously. “How silly of me not to realize you would look so much better in my shirts than I. Come over here, temptress, before I desert the food and take you right back to bed.”
“No, I’m famished. I need food before I can go to such exertions again.” Marianne headed toward the settee, brushing one of the chairs and knocking his jacket to the floor. She bent to pick it up.
“Don’t bother with that. We’ll pick them all up later.”
She grabbed the coat by its closest edge only to lift it upside down. An object slid from a pocket and landed with a quiet thud on the carpet. Shaking out the jacket with one hand, she retrieved the waylaid object in the other and held it up in the firelight. “What is this?” She laid the jacket back over the chair and came toward him, lost in her study. “Drew, is this a miniature of me? You’ve had it all this time?”
Drew felt himself redden as Marianne studied the talisman that had kept him connected to home, to her, these last years. The watercolored image on ivory was contained in a sterling silver frame and painted by no other than George Engleheart, as proven by the initials G.E. on its back. Obviously, Marianne’s father knew to whom such a commission should be given when he wanted a quality job done and lack of funds no issue. Drew had found it still in his pocket after his abduction and had held onto it, cherished it, regardless of where his travels had taken him. Indeed, it had travelled around the world several times and its frame remained untarnished due to its constant location in his pocket and his fingers often rubbing it when he was stressed or contemplating.
“Drew?” Marianne settled in next to him.
He gently took the miniature from her hand and rubbed the silver edge with his thumb. “This kept me anchored, Marianne. When first taken, I held this and thought of home and how no one knew where I was, how I was, or if I were even alive. Later, I thought maybe it best I stay away. You had not wanted to marry me. I knew that. And I thought it might be easier for you to move on without me. Of course, I had no knowledge of Andrea or the fact that my father would not properly care for you. I thought he would be that much of a gentleman, at least. But, even if you had turned your dowry over to him, I am sure now he would have done the same. Left you to your own devices and spent the funds in his usual manner, on one flimflam game after another.
“Still, as I travelled and learned and gained income because of my prowess with languages, I never felt at home. I never felt I wanted to stay at any one place, until I went to the monastery, the Order of the Crimson Lotus. Once there, I felt welcome and useful.”
“How did you come to find it?” Marianne laid a hand on his arm.
“They found me, actually. You know, sailors are a hardy bunch and once they land in a port they waste no time catching up on the vices that have been unavailable to them for so many months. We came into Shang Hai on the afternoon tide and by midnight we were three sheets in the wind, ironically in the same state that got me impressed as a sailor to begin with.
“Anyway, I tried to leave my mates behind as I’d felt I had had enough, if not too much to drink already. I was barely out of the building and on my way back to board the ship when I was accosted again. Does this sound familiar?” He laid a hand over hers and gave her a sheepish grin. “I had nothing of value on me except a few gold coins and the miniature, which they did not take for some unknown reason. The bash on my head, however, had me unconscious in yet another gutter.
“I woke up in a cart drawn by two oxen and already quite a ways out of town.”
“Were you not scared? Could you not get up and run away?”
“Unfortunately, a concussion does not work that way. I was disoriented and dizzy. After I woke up, I merely passed out again.
“I really don’t know how many days I was in and out of consciousness while the monks and teachers tended me. Washed me. Bandaged my head. Gave me tea. Fed me broth. And plied me with different herbs while they stuck needles in me.”
“Oh goodness! Were they torturing you?” She gripped his arm.
“No, it’s a medical treatment they have used for centuries in the Orient. They were healing me.” He took her hand in his and wove their fingers together. “With almost no pain, the healing was incredible. I learned a little of it and brought home some manuscripts. Of course, they are written in Chinese so not many people can read them. Maybe I will translate them so others can use this extraordinary technique.”
“I can just see how the fashionable in London will warm to this needling technique. The ladies of the ton complain when a modiste even slightly pricks them with a pin.” Marianne chuckled.
“Well, there is that. But, the monks were so kind. When I healed, they did not force me to leave. Instead, they suggested I stay and learn their ways.” He turned to look at her. “I have to admit, Marianne, at the time I still wasn’t sure it would be best for me or you that I return home. So, I decided to stay.”
“What did your captain say? Did they come looking for you?”
“At the time, I did not know. It had been many days later and I knew the ship would have had to get under sail once again. So, I settled into the routine at the monastery.
“After I had returned to health, they invited me to learn their exercises in self-defense. Called Tai Chi, it teaches the balance of yin and yang as I explained about the foo dogs or Imperial Lions I placed in front of the house. I continued to gain strength. Then one evening a young woman came to my rooms in the monastery. She had been sent by their leader and had been given the responsibility of teaching me the ways of The Order of the Crimson Lotus.”
Marianne interrupted. “I did not know women could be monks.”
He raised their intertwined hands to his lips to place a gentle kiss on her knuckles. “No, women are not monks. However, in the particular monastery they are assigned a very special task.
“Yin and yang are crucial to balance in the Chinese way of life. In this particular monastery the monks felt it important that their maleness, called yang, be balance by the yin of the femaleness of women. As a result, the women have learned and taught the art of lovemaking.”
Marianne’s eyes widened. “You can’t mean it. The women know the intimacies and teach the men? British society would dissolve if that were to happen here. As you are fully aware, women are nothing more than chattel here. We are taught almost nothing about sexual relations between men and women.”
“So true.” Drew stroked the back of her hand. “But in this particular monastery I learned how lovemaking creates a deeper connection and fulfillment. She taught me how, when the right two people are involved, the responses of each are phenomenal.”
“Drew, was making love with her like making love with me?” Marianne asked shyly.
“Yes and no. She was incredibly skilled for her young years. I doubt she could have been more than one score and five. I easily responded to her sexuality. But she was a teacher and there was no expectation for a long-term commitment or relationship. Even I was awed by the strength, depth, intensity of our coupling when you and I made love this time, Marianne. I was told it could be so, but I didn’t really believe it since I had not experienced it. But I remembered the sensation when we touched, the electricity or spark we generated, all those years ago. I thought it a clue to the possibility we might share the depth she talked about in her lessons.”
“And so you left. You returned home.”
“Yes. After being there for over a year, I realized I had reached a point of decision. Either I needed to commit to a life in the monastery, become a monk, relinquish the external world, or return home to discover what remained for me here in England. You were a large part of that decision process.”
“Me? You hardly knew me. Why would I matter?”
“The miniature of you. It had grounded me during all of the trials, the fights, the ship changes, everything I had been through to that point. Even while at the monastery, the miniature of you was constantly there to reassure me that, on the other side of the planet, someone I was connected to waited.”
“How could you possibly know I would be waiting?”
“I didn’t know. Maybe it was that spark we had when we touched. Maybe it was just wishful thinking on my part. But I believed it deep in my heart and, based upon the teachings at the monastery, I did not want to go through my life wondering what could have been. I wanted to know for a certainty that what I felt existed was either real or fictitious. I believed if it was fabricated I could always return to the monastery and pick up where I left off. Or I could sail the seas enjoying what I learned of the world. But, if I didn’t return, the question would plague my being and unsettle the balance, the yang and yin, of my existence.”
Marianne squeezed their joined hands. “And, so, you took the chance not knowing what you would find here.”
“Yes. I decided to return home. I waited for the Fortune’s Lady. I knew it was only a matter of time before she came round again. As luck would have it, she came to port not three weeks after I returned to Shang Hai.
“Captain Dunnard greeted me warmly and said they had sent out men to search for me. They even stayed an extra day in hopes of finding me but could find no clue as to where I’d disappeared. He happily took me on for my voyage home and he and the crew were wealthier for it.”
“Was he not the captain who had kidnapped you to begin with?”
“No. I changed ships three times over two years. Once my first captain, Davis was his name, found out about my propensity with languages, my life on board changed. No longer did I have to do as much labor. I bargained with the merchants in every port. Then they had me take on the books. They accepted me as an educated man.”
“Did they not know who you were? Did the captain not know in which neighborhood the kidnapper grabbed you?”
“By the time I came to on the ship, I decided not to give them my whole name. I didn’t want them to know I was titled. I didn’t want them to be able to use that against me. So, I told them my name was Andy, Andy Devins, I made the last name up. I only told them I was a gentleman. Considering my apparel at the time, they had no trouble believing me.”
Marianne turned to look at him. “That explains why we couldn’t find you. I had them search everywhere. All over London. All over Great Britain. Then out to ports all over the world. We offered rewards. We sent runners out constantly. Every one of them came back with no information. When I met Robert and we started getting serious, I tried yet again. Sent out yet another group of men to search for you. With no news, Robert and I started to make plans.”
“Marianne, I understand. You moved on with your life. How could you not with no word of me, from me?” Drew released his hand from hers, leaned his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands between them.
“But you didn’t contact me. Why did you not send word you were returning? On your way home?” Marianne’s eyes were bright with unshed tears.
“I thought about it but it had been so long. I didn’t know what I would find, how you and my father would receive me.” He studied the flickering firelight. “If my father were still alive . . . if you had already found another and remarried . . . I might have left without contact. Once I found father dead and buried, however, there was no other option for me than to remain. Someone had to pick up what was left of our shattered estate, settle his debts, restore our good name. Who was left to do so but me?”
“Drew.” Marianne tugged on his arm. “I told you, there are no debts. I have settled everything.”
He turned to her studying her face and the sincerity shown there. “You are truly a wonder. I had no expectation of returning to so much. A beautiful wife. A solvent estate. A darling daughter. These are things I only dreamed about over these past years. In fact, I never even considered a child in the near future. I thought that a remote wish. Thank you, Marianne, for all you have done in my absence. I don’t know how I can ever repay the debt. Is there something I can do for you? Do you want your freedom? Do you want to go to Gentilly?” He dreaded the question even as he asked it. How could he possibly survive losing her after just finding her, just sharing the intensity of their lovemaking? Knowing that she truly was the one and only for him?
~ ~ ~
Marianne looked up into Drew’s face, no longer relaxed, his eyes sad, his lips drawn tight.
He feared her leaving.
Did she really want to go?
She lifted a hand to smooth down his jaw, finding the raspy texture of a beard not tended since earlier that morning. Gazing deep into his sapphirine eyes, she could not bring herself to hurt him. “No. I don’t wish to leave. I don’t wish to go to Robert. Not yet, anyway. I want to stay and learn more of what might be between us. We . . . what we did . . . Drew, it was nothing less than amazing.” She returned her hand to her lap.
“But, Gentilly.” Drew took her hand in his, laid the palm open and dragged his finger along its open length. “I read the note he sent you. Marianne, he is not happy you left suddenly and without informing him. He resents me, of course. As far as he is concerned I am the interloper, not he. I disagree but I can understand his perspective. What is your relationship with him? He has not bedded you? Not tried to?”
Marianne blushed and turned away but Drew gently took her chin in his hand and turned her face toward his. “Tell me. Where did you meet? How? What were your plans?”
She sighed. “It seems so long ago now, but it was only two years this past February. I had just celebrated Andrea’s first name day with my parents. I had invited your father but he deigned not to grace us with his presence. A few days following, Vanessa, Lady Summersborne, cajoled me into attending a ball. I really had not frequented Society after you disappeared and then, with my confinement with Andrea, I was completely out of the social whirl.
“But Vanessa insisted. She felt it time I had a life and what could be better than the beginning of the upcoming Season. She dragged me to her modiste who quickly sewed up a new ball gown that would be more representative of my then current station as viscountess. Two evenings later, I became the talk of the ton as the merchant’s daughter, upstart, viscountess who had delivered a daughter after being deserted right after the wedding. Endless gossip ensued as to whether the child was yours since you were nowhere to be found.
“Robert was an acquaintance of Vanessa’s, not a friend really, just an acquaintance. When she had occasion to introduce us that evening, he took pity on me and asked me to dance a cotillion. We spent that evening chatting.”
Drew wove his fingers with hers. “It must have been awful for you while I was gone.”
“It eased over time. When everyone else shunned me, and talked about me behind my back, Vanessa, Robert, and the other ladies you met when you arrived accepted me and buffered me from the wagging tongues of Society. As Andrea got older, no one could deny her likeness to you. That helped as well. Eventually I was approached by single men who would dance with me but I knew they were fortune hunters. All the while, Robert remained my friend.”
“Has he always been the gentleman?”
She turned to look straight into his eyes. “Always.”
“Has he not kissed you? Asked for more?”
“Yes, we have kissed, but never passionately.” She thought of what she had shared with Drew that evening and how every time he kissed her she lost herself and seemed to merge with him. “Robert has been a good friend. He has been there during trying times. He has accepted me for who I am.”
Drew brought their intertwined hands to his lips and kissed the back of her hand. He opened his mouth and stroked the sensitive back of her hand with his tongue, then laved the skin down over the inside of her wrist.
Marianne’s heart kicked up its beat, her breath caught in her throat.
“Is that all you want, Marianne? Friendship? No passion?”
What did she want? Was she willing to give up the safety and undemanding presence of Robert to grasp the passion and knowledge that Drew offered with both hands?
A soft knock came on the chamber door to break her momentary reverie and save her once again from making decisions she so desperately needed to make but didn’t want to.
Drew sighed.
“I’ll answer that.” She rose from the settee. “Just a moment.” Knowing she was fully covered in Drew’s shirt she cracked the door to see who knocked. Jane looked in at her, a teary-eyed Andrea cradled on her hip.
“I’m so sorry, my lady. Our little miss has woken up from a nightmare. I can’t seem to soothe her and she keeps calling out for you.” The nanny’s concern was evident in her frantic whisper and furrowed brow.
“Mama. Mama, don’t leave me. Mama, uppy, uppy!” Andrea’s tear-stained face tore at Marianne’s heart as her small arms stretched in her direction.
“I’ll take her, Jane. Go back to bed and get some well-earned rest. We’ll see you in the morning.” She reached out with both hands. “Come here, my little love.”
Andrea grasped Marianne’s neck in a death grip. “Mama, don’t leave. Mama, don’t.”
Marianne used her hip to push the door closed and carried her daughter over to the settee. “Don’t fret, little one, I’m here. Look. Papa’s here, too.”
Turning around to look, Andrea switched loyalties. “Papa, don’t let mama leave.” She reached down to Drew, still sitting on the settee. Marianne noticed he had yet to put on any clothes more than his trousers but their daughter took no notice of his déshabillé.
Drew enfolded Andrea in his arms and placed her on his lap. “Mama’s not leaving, little one. Nothing to fret about.” He looked up over her head to gaze poignantly at Marianne. “She’s right here. Are you hungry? Would you like something to eat?”
“Yes, papa. Food.”
They shared the repast that Ellen had brought while the three of them chatted of the day’s events and what would happen tomorrow.
After all were sated, Marianne carried Andrea to her bed, settled her in, and climbed in after her. Drew went around to the other side and did the same. Their little girl made a big yawn and said, “G’night, Mama. G’night, Papa.” Closing her eyes on a sigh, the little one went off to sleep.
“I wish all of our problems could be solved that easily.” Marianne tugged the blankets tighter around Andrea.
“It’s really very simple, Marianne. What is it you want and who is it who will give it to you?” With that last comment, her husband snuggled into the covers close to his daughter and closed his eyes.
Marianne thought, that’s a very good question that does not seem to have a simple answer.