The Duchess (Montgomery/Taggert 16)

Claire laughed. “I can imagine that it did.”

Brat gave her sister an intense look. “Who’s the woman with Vellie? I couldn’t see her very well this morning, it was still dark, but she looked to be rather pretty. She was walking so close to him, had his arm tucked into her side and—”

Brat looked at her sister in astonishment as she leaped out of bed. She’d never seen her sister naked before and she was surprised that Claire would so forget herself as to appear so before another person.

“Help me get dressed,” Claire commanded. “I have to…to…”

“Save Trevelyan?” Brat asked slyly.

“Something of that nature,” Claire answered, drawing on her corset.

It was a mere twenty minutes later that Claire was storming up the stairs of Trevelyan’s tower. She didn’t know what she expected to find, but she’d had enough time to imagine some dreadful things. She rather expected to find that horrid Nyssa sitting on Trevelyan’s lap. Instead, he was sitting quietly at one of his tables and writing with his usual concentration. He didn’t look up when she came in, but held out his empty whisky glass in her direction. She guessed that he thought it was Oman who had entered the room.

Claire went to the cabinet where the bottle was, took it out, then went to refill his glass. As she poured, he looked up at her.

“I thought you’d be asleep,” he said softly.

Claire’s hand trembled as she set the bottle down on the table. One second they were looking at each other, Trevelyan’s eyes black with intensity, Claire’s eyes questioning and shy as she remembered all they had done to each other’s bodies during the night. The next second she was in his arms and they were kissing with passion, kissing in a frantic way, as though they had been separated for years rather than hours. Trevelyan lifted her skirts, then pulled her into his lap as he began to untie the drawstring of the trousers he wore under his silk robe.

Claire was aghast when she realized what he meant to do. She started to protest, but he put his mouth over hers and she forgot all about protesting. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him hungrily.

At first she didn’t hear the woman’s voice to her left. If Trevelyan heard it he made no sign. He kept kissing Claire and tossing aside three of her petticoats.

Claire pushed at Trevelyan, trying to pull away from him. The woman spoke again. “Trevelyan!” Claire said sharply, pushing at him. She was trying to get off his lap.

Trevelyan said something under his breath. Claire couldn’t understand it but she recognized it as Peshan. She heard the woman laugh and say something else.

Claire gave a mighty push at Trevelyan. He released her and she landed with a loud thunk on the stone floor. Claire looked up to see Nyssa standing two tables away from them. The woman looked to be even more beautiful in the early morning light than she had the night before. She wore a robe of yellow silk that made her brown eyes look almost golden. Claire remembered every word of what Trevelyan had told her about making love to Nyssa. Had he left her, Claire, in the middle of the night and gone to this pearl of beauty? If he’d made love to twenty-five women in one night, surely he could handle a mere two.

Claire got up and started for the door. “I have to go,” she said.

Trevelyan caught her skirt before she could take a step. “You don’t have to go anywhere.”

Nyssa said something and Trevelyan replied in Peshan.

“What did she say?” Claire asked stiffly.

“Nothing of interest.”

“What did she say?” Claire demanded.

Trevelyan gave a great sigh of weariness. “She said th

at the color of your dress was wrong for you, that it made you look pale and lifeless.”

Nyssa said something else and Claire turned to glare at her. “Translate.”

“Claire, love—” Trevelyan started, but then sighed. “She said that you’re too heavy for your height and that men don’t like fat women.”

Claire clenched her teeth. “Tell her that men don’t like flat-chested, scrawny women such as she. Tell her that in my country of America, where people are civilized, women are supposed to have some meat on them.”

“Claire…” Trevelyan said in a pleading voice.

Claire turned to look at him, her eyes blazing. “You don’t want to tell her, do you? Did you spend the night with her? Did you go to her after you left me?”

“After I left you I took care of that maid of yours. I haven’t had time for any other women.”

“And time was the only restraint on you, wasn’t it? If you’d had time you would have made love to her.”