Unlacing Lady Thea

And then his voice did crack and he moved, caught her by the shoulders, pulled her round. ‘My love, say something, for God’s sake. I never meant to make you cry, Thea.’

‘I think it is happiness overflowing. I love you, Rhys. I have loved you since I realised why I was so jealous of Serena. That she was beautiful and I was ordinary did not matter, but she had you, and that did.’ Her face was buried in his shirt front now, her wet cheeks dried by the soft, warm fabric, her senses full of the feel and scent of him. ‘I thought I had managed to suppress it. After all, I cannot fly, however much I might want to—yearnings can be accepted and controlled.

‘I thought it was safe to come to you, to travel with you. I thought, fool that I am, when I sensed that you desired me, that it was safe to be your lover, that you would never know.’ His hands were warm and steady now, one around her waist, the other gentle on her hair. ‘It was almost more than I could bear to hide my feelings and to know it must end.’

‘Will you marry me?’ His voice was muffled in her hair.

Thea pushed a little so she could look up into Rhys’s face. He looked very serious, but there was joy and something more, deep in those blue eyes. ‘I am not at all the sort of wife you wanted. I will get involved in causes and argue with you about politics. I will probably say the wrong things to important people and I will not stand for being left in the country with the children.’

‘You will, will you? That sounds remarkably like a yes, Thea.’ Rhys dropped his head so his forehead rested on hers. ‘I was an idiot. I wanted to shut all the messy, difficult, painful, emotional stuff out. We will argue sometimes and it will hurt. It won’t be calm and safe, Thea.’

‘I can promise to be difficult and messy. And probably painful.’ Thea reached up and took a handful of hair and tugged. ‘Very painful if you don’t kiss me.’

‘Is there a lock on this door?’

‘A wedge.’ Thea ducked down and pushed it into place as Rhys hopped on one foot, dragging at the other boot. They fell on the bunk together, both of them laughing and jostling as they pulled at each other’s clothes.

When they were naked Rhys looked down at her and shook his head. ‘Why didn’t I realise?’

‘You had to outgrow an adolescent yearning for blue-eyed blondes of a coming disposition and I had to grow up,’ Thea suggested as he bent to her breasts, her eyes drifted shut and all desire to tease and laugh fled.

He was not gentle or respectful or careful. This was a claiming and a masculine shout of triumph and Thea revelled in the strength of his body as he bent her this way and that, as mouth and hands explored her as if they had not been lovers for weeks.

She gave back with a fierceness that matched his own, leaving the marks of her nails and her teeth on his back and shoulders as he ravaged her body. He was determined to reduce her to quivering submission; she was desperate for his possession. When he would only tease her with the pressure of his erection against her she wrapped her legs around his hips and clung, arching up to capture him.

‘Witch,’ he groaned in surrender, and thrust hard and deep. She was ready for him, more than ready, but she saw his set face and the hard lines of the tendons in his throat as he plunged and withdrew, mercilessly possessing her; he wanted to make this last for ever, yet he wanted to reach that peak of fulfilment. She wanted it, too. As he lodged deep inside her she gripped, held, refused to yield.

‘Stay with me,’ she gasped and for the first time in their lovemaking he lost control, shuddered and hung above her as the heat of his climax flooded inside her and she screamed and reached for him even as she shattered and fell, knowing only that he was with her, totally. And for ever.

* * *

The wedding, in the chapel of Prince Frederico’s residence in Syracuse, took place a month later, the day after Agnes, Lady Hughson, became la Principessa d’Averna. The ceremony was performed by the British consul’s chaplain, ably assisted by Reverend Giles Benton in borrowed vestments. It was attended by a small but select party of guests, including the bride’s father, the Earl of Wellingstone, who appeared faintly stunned that his difficult daughter had made such an excellent match and was off his hands at last, and, to the delight of the gossips, Mr Paul Weston and Lady Serena Weston.

The wedding breakfast lasted well into the evening, but finally Rhys took his wife by the hand and led her, without ceremony, out into the great square in front of the cathedral and down the slope to the ancient spring by the harbour. ‘See?’ He pointed at the strange plant growing in the clear water with trout weaving through its stems. ‘Real Egyptian papyrus. No one knows how it comes to be here. Shall we take it as an omen and visit Egypt on our honeymoon?’

‘I don’t mind where we go, as long as it has a bed and you.’ Thea took the corsage of flowers that was pinned to her shoulder and tossed it to a group of little girls who were staring open-mouthed at her wedding finery.

‘We will set sail at dawn and head east, then see where the winds take the Aquila. After all, the prince said we can use it for as long as we want.’ He looked down at her as she smiled at the children, wondering why he had ever thought her ordinary or could have taken her for granted. ‘Come, we have a wedding night before us.’

He swept her into his arms when they reached the yacht and carried her up the gangplank to the applause of the crew, then into the sumptuous master cabin. He was alone with his bride, at last.

* * *

‘Oh, look, a proper big bed!’ Thea gasped as Rhys lowered her onto it.

‘I know.’ He began to unbutton the gown of pale gold silk. ‘We may never want to go home.’

He made love to her slowly, carefully, as though it was the first time. Her flesh softened for him as he caressed her, her body opened to him as he entered her and his strength overwhelmed her as she clung to him. More than words, the certainty of his claiming convinced her of his love.

The tension grew and spiralled and Thea opened her eyes to find Rhys watching her, his face stark with the effort to control his building climax. ‘I love you,’ she gasped and he smiled and kissed her so she took his shout of triumph into her and she fell free into a swirl of light and dark and, finally, peace.

* * *

She woke to find dawn light flooding through the portholes and the ship in motion. Rhys was propped up on one elbow, looking down at her.

‘What is it?’ Thea scrubbed at her eyes. ‘Is my hair in a tangle?’

‘I was just making up for years of not looking at you properly,’ her husband murmured. ‘Just this past hour I have found three new freckles and discovered that there is a tiny mole behind your left ear.’ He bent to kiss it. ‘How long is it going to take for me to discover everything about you?’

‘Seventy years?’ Thea hazarded as Rhys threw back the bedclothes and began, with a growl, to explore.

‘At the very least, my love.’