A Lady for Lord Randall (Brides of Waterloo)

‘No, everyone went today, as planned.’

‘And you stayed?’ The leap of pleasure was instantly replaced by concern. ‘You are here alone?’

‘No, of course not. Therese has gone to Antwerp with the teachers, but she will return tomorrow. Jacques remains here to look after the schoolhouse, but he has gone to bed. He is very deaf and will not have heard your knock.’

‘Then what the devil do you mean by opening the door?’ he demanded angrily. ‘I might have been anyone!’

The lighted candle she carried showed the twinkling gleam in her eyes.

‘I glanced out of the window first to see who was hammering on my door at midnight, my lord. Your outline was unmistakable.’

His lips twitched, he could not keep the bubble of happiness inside him any longer.

‘Mary, you are incorrigible!’ He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, his heart leaping when he felt the tremor run through her, but she pushed him aside, protesting.

‘My lord, be careful, or I shall spill wax over your uniform.’

‘Damn my uniform,’ he growled, but he released her, only retaining her hand. ‘Is there somewhere we can talk?’

* * *

Mary led him into the sitting room, where only two days ago they had said their last goodbyes. Her heart was thudding so hard that it made her hand shake and she put the candle down on the desk as soon as she was able. As she turned back to him he pulled her into his arms again. They kissed; a long and deeply satisfying embrace that made her forget the tearing heartbreak of the past few days. She slipped her arms around his neck.

‘I could not leave,’ she whispered, when at last he raised his head. She rested her cheek against his coat, breathing in the dear, familiar smell of him, mingled now with the faint aroma of brandy and cigars. ‘When the time came I could not quit Brussels, knowing that you were still here.’

‘Mary—’

She raised her hand and put her fingers against his lips.

‘Do you remember, you said that everything will change when war comes? I could not bear the thought of it happening without seeing you again, without feeling your arms around me.’ She cupped his face in her hands, saying quickly, before she lost her nerve, ‘I want you to make me your mistress, Randall. I want you to take me to your bed.’

He looked down at her, his eyes dark as the night sky in the dim light. Then he lowered his head and took her mouth. Her lips parted and she felt his tongue burn her, disordering her senses, and she responded hungrily. With something between a growl and a groan he picked her up.

‘You shall have your wish, Mary. I cannot resist you any longer, I shall take you to bed this instant.’

‘But there is no light on the stairs,’ she protested, laughing in spite of the passion that raged within her. The look he gave her sent that passion soaring even higher and the laughter caught in her throat, leaving her breathless.

‘You will have to carry the candlestick,’ he muttered. ‘Can you do so without spilling wax all over us?’

Giggling like schoolchildren, they made their way through the dark hallway and up the stairs, Mary directing Randall to her room.

When he set her on her feet she stood before him, feeling suddenly shy. Gently he took the candelabra from her hand and put it on a chest of drawers, then he turned and placed his hands on her shoulders.

‘Are you sure you want this, Mary? There can be no going back.’

She knew it. She was risking everything for a brief spell of happiness that she might regret for the rest of her life. She smiled up at him. Tonight at least she had no doubts.

‘I am very sure, Randall.’

He kissed her again, gently this time, while his hands worked loose the ties of her bodice. She did not question how he came to be so adept at undressing her or his familiarity with female clothing; instead she gave herself up to savouring every moment. His hands caressed her skin as her gown fell silently to the floor at her feet. He turned her around and began to unlace her stays. He laid a trail of feathery kisses across her neck and shoulders while his fingers pulled out the ribbons. As the constriction around her body lessened so desire flowered, filling her. At last she stood before him clad only in her stockings and chemise. She had never felt so vulnerable yet so alive. As he turned her back to face him she glanced up and found him smiling down at her, allaying her fears. He gathered up the soft lawn shift and drew it over her head, then he pulled her into his arms. The cloth of his coat was rough against her bare skin and suddenly she wanted him to be naked, too. She wanted to feel his skin against hers. She fumbled with the buttons of his coat even as he swept her up and carried her to the bed.

The covers were cold on her back but her body was already burning with desire. He eluded her arms and she watched him hastily shed his own clothes. The dim light of the single candle gleamed on his broad shoulders and across his chest with its shield of dark hair. Her throat dried, she ached to touch him and silently she reached out as he lay down beside her.

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, long and deep. His tongue tangled with hers in a slow, sensual dance that sent little arrows of desire through her whole body. His hand slid down to caress her hip, but instead of slipping over the soft mound of her behind and pulling her close she felt it moving over her belly and sliding down to the apex of her thighs. She gasped as his fingers slipped inside her, slow and gentle. Her limbs began to relax, to soften beneath his caresses, but at the same time the pooling desire deep inside was growing steadily.

She sighed when he stopped. He pulled away, just enough to look at her. His face was no more than a shadow against the gloom.

‘This is your first time, Mary,’ he said, gently brushing the hair from her face. ‘I do not want to frighten you.’