Where Destiny Plays, page 25
He looked up to see her smiling.
“Are you going to stay dressed and on your knees, darling?”
He rose. “No.” He cupped her cheek and gazed into the depths of her amber eyes.
She gave a quick kiss to his palm before clambering onto the bed. She propped herself up with pillows, laying the covers neatly over her lap. “I’ll watch.”
A slight discomfiture descended as he disrobed. He had vigorously maintained an athletic physique over the years. She would think him vain without knowing he had done it for her, for the occasional moments when he would find himself in her arms. Was his future to be flabby and feeble from living a comfortable life with Grace?
It did not matter. For at that moment, Lavinia was ogling him with lascivious intent, licking her lips as her gaze dipped to his bobbing erection.
“You’re looking very fine for a man almost fifty, Jules.”
“Worthy of being in your arms, Vinny?”
She laughed and held out her hands for him to join her. Just the chance to hold her naked body against his would be enough.
Almost.
He scrambled under the covers, grappling her, tickling her, rollicking in her arms, until he stretched on top of her, panting. He urged her legs apart to lie between her thighs, keeping himself propped up on his elbows to see the glow of arousal on her face.
She traced a finger around his beard. “The last time we were in this position you were rather cruel. I like the changed man.”
“I was angry at you. You dashed my plans.” He slid his cock between her slick sex.
“You should be glad I did.”
“Perhaps.” He prodded her entrance.
She shifted to allow him access.
“It would be exhilarating to dominate you in such a manner again,” he said.
“I always let you have your way.”
He grabbed her arms, positioning them over her head, crushing them into the pillow until she squeaked in protest.
“You do.” He entered her, groaning at the welcoming wet heat.
She curved against the mattress, heaving her ample bosom to him. He bent over, sucking one piqued nipple, then the other, wishing he could taunt both at the same time. He moved slowly, savoring her body.
“Do you remember Penzance?” he murmured.
“Jules, darling,” she breathed. “I’ll never forget.” She tightened around him.
Desire pierced his core. “The rock on the beach at midnight.”
Memories lit her eyes. “I would swear it was the night we conceived our child.”
He would swear that too.
Her hips rocked languidly.
He increased his rhythm. “I almost told you I loved you that night, but pride held me back.”
She tilted, the sign she wanted him to deepen his thrusts. He dipped his head and met her lips, melding his mouth with hers as their bodies joined more intimately below. She opened for him, as she always had, her emotions and desires exposed.
And for the first time he opened himself to her. He pulled back from the kiss. “If I could go back, relive that moment, I would change so many things.”
Tears wet her lashes then dripped down the sides of her face.
He broke contact, sliding behind her, pulling her close, his cock cradled comfortably between the cheeks of her buttocks. He reached around to stroke her clit.
She moaned his name as she melted against his tender caresses.
“We watched the moon over the ocean, the waves crash on the shore.” The pulse point of her neck was hot under his tongue.
She turned slightly to flatten against the mattress and gaze up at him. “You silenced my cries of pleasure.” She grabbed his cock and positioned it at her sex.
He pushed in. “I won’t silence you now, Vinny.” He worked her clit mercilessly. “Let go.”
Her expression slackened to satiation. Her cunt gripped and pulsed around him, mirroring the rise and fall of her gasping cries.
He pressed harder. “More.” He kept his pace slow, caring not for his own pleasure, wanting hers alone. Wanting her to shatter in his arms, to shatter the memories of what he had done.
She closed her eyes with a sigh and a smile, purring approbations, until her breath hitched and she came, her clenching strength almost his undoing. She looked up at him, confusion clouding her expression. “Julius?”
And that’s when he felt his presence.
Who the man was he had no idea. But she loved another. She could move forward, as well.
He curved his palm around her cheek. “It’s me. I’m here.” It was his moment and he would make her remember it. He clamped down on her clit, working it zealously.
She bucked up with a yelp. “It’s too sensitive!” she squealed, writhing beneath him. “Jules,” she pleaded, “fuck me. I just need you to fuck me.”
He lifted her leg, twisting under it until he was between her thighs again. “Vinny—”
She hooked her calf over his butt, the signal she had prepared for their union.
He kissed her tenderly in gratitude and warning. And then he slammed inside her, wanting, needing to destroy the villain within, to free the new man.
“Let go, Julius.”
Her countenance softened and for a fleeting moment became another, equally familiar. But this was Lavinia, the woman he owed everything to, who despised him, who loved him, who changed him. This was the last chance for gratitude.
And the last chance to command her luscious body.
He grabbed her arms, gripping her thumbs harshly in one hand, grinding them into the pillow above her head. He drove into her relentlessly, each plunge to the root of his cock, to the depths of her sex, her body yielding, flailing under his power, his rutting strength from passion and desire not vengeance and villainy.
With a barking cry, he jerked against her, emptying himself, releasing the horror of the past.
Utterly spent, he slipped to her side and held her, kissing her cheeks as he calmed from his sensual exertion. “Thank you, Vinny.”
She wriggled in his arms. “It was a good last time.”
He pecked her lips. “It was.” He brushed a stray tendril from her face. “Who is he, darling?”
She blushed. “An earl. Our hearts want to be together. Politically it’s complicated.”
“Ah. If your heart knows what it wants, it will find a way.”
She laughed softly. “Love has made you wiser.”
He hugged her a little more tightly. “It has.”
“Are you staying the night?” She nuzzled against him.
“I am.” Grace knew to expect him the next day.
“Good. Then we can have one more last time in the morning.”
He drifted off to sleep in her arms, for the first time in decades his dreams not disquieting.
* * * * *
Lavinia stretched her arm out under the covers to rouse the man at her side, finding not warm male flesh but a pocket of cool air between the sheets.
Julius had left early. There would be no morning sex.
She sighed then laughed. She should be disappointed. Instead she was happy for him.
She rose and put on her dressing robe. A cup of tea before a warm fire would help her organize her thoughts.
She poked her head into the kitchen. Mrs. Dinsdale clattered busily, humming to herself, then flushed when she saw Lavinia.
“Oh, my lady! I hope I did not wake you?”
“No, Mrs. Dinsdale. I’ll take my tea in the parlor.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Lavinia relaxed on the sofa, the sofa where she and Julius had made love dozens of times before. She smiled. From what Nicholas had told her, he had made love to Helena on that very same sofa on their honeymoon.
Mrs. Dinsdale came in with the tea things. “My lady.” She placed the tray on the end table. Lavinia watched as she poured, almost not registering the unexpected object lying on the tray.
A key with a red ribbon.
“Your Dr. Christopher left his key, my lady.”
He would never need it again.
“Thank you, Mrs. Dinsdale.”
Lavinia drew in a deep breath then exhaled as the weight lifted from her shoulders.
Her heart was ready for something new.
Chapter Twenty
London
A sputtering pop in the parlor fire roused Grace out of her inaction. How long she had been sitting she did not know, but the waning light of day indicated it had been several hours. With the office closed while Julius visited his friend, she remained plagued by vexatious thoughts.
She rose from her chair and descended the servants’ stairs to the silent and empty kitchen. With no master to serve, Mrs. Jennings had gone to her sister’s. Grace laid a tray with teapot and cup and went back upstairs to Julius’ examination room, closing and locking the door behind her. She placed the tray on the counter and lit a lamp then unlocked Julius’ desk and retrieved his recipe book. She knew his system and found the page readily.
She went to the cupboard and pulled out the box containing the more dangerous herbs and tinctures. Grace had only partially lied when she told Julius she had not checked supplies. She had checked the supplies in the locked box after Mrs. Chadbourne had left, as they were running low on a few items. She restocked those, including the herbs to make an abortifacient.
She went through the list of ingredients one by one, taking out the bottles, checking the labels, measuring out the herbs then double checking the recipe, the bottles, and the quantities. She carefully measured out pennyroyal and artemisia, mugwort and tansy. When she was certain the proportions were right, she set the kettle on the stovetop to boil water for the infusion.
Then she sat by the stove and waited.
In the East End, women would go to a local woman, a midwife who knew about herbs, especially herbs for women’s complaints. There were some stories of women who got very sick, some who even died, but most stories were from women relieved of the burden of an unwanted child. Here in the West End it was so different. Women like Mrs. Chadbourne went to doctors like Julius then took trips to the Continent.
When the water was at almost boiling, Grace placed the herbs in the teapot.
When the water boiled, she poured it in the teapot. She stared at the teacup.
She knew in her heart she did not want to do what she was about to do. She wanted Julius’ child, but he didn’t. She would do anything for Julius. She had already proved that to him again and again.
She swirled the concoction, the motion jiggling the lid of the teapot. She just needed to wait about fifteen minutes.
She would do this one last thing for him.
The sound of a key scratching in the lock sent a shiver up her spine. Julius? Back so soon? She’d have to look as if she was working. Checking supplies is what she would say. And she had decided to make tea while she worked.
But the bottles and the recipe book were right on the counter.
The doorknob turned and Julius walked in.
“Grace?”
“Julius! You’re here!”
He smiled his usual gentle smile. “I’ve just returned.” He strode forward. “I saw the light—” He caught sight of the recipe book still open to the damning page, then the teapot, a few drops of water on the counter next to it.
The smile faded to panic.
“No.”
In one swift movement he swept the teapot off the counter, sending it crashing to the floor, hot water and herbs exploding beneath shards of stoneware. He scooped her up into his arms, out the door, into the hall. He fell to his knees, taking her with him, his arms wrapped tightly around her.
His body shook against hers until he heaved a breath.
“Julius?”
He was crying.
“Grace, love, what were you thinking? What were you planning to do?” He placed his hands on her belly then bowed before her, his face pressed into her stomach, kissing her there, his tears wetting her dress.
“I just thought…I thought you wouldn’t want it.”
He stared at her, wide-eyed and pale. “Wouldn’t want it?”
“I…I…” She’d have to tell him. “I read the letter you left on your desk. The one from Lady Foxley-Graham. About your child. About how you didn’t want to have a child.”
He paled. “Oh God, Grace. No…it’s not true. I mean that was a long time ago. I was young and foolish. I didn’t know what I wanted. I was cruel.” He pulled her into his arms once again, stroking her back, kissing her hair. “Darling, I want what we have made together. I want our child.”
Her tears fell uncontrollably. She weakened in his arms, letting him hold her, letting him offer soothing words. He pulled her against him as he sat on the floor and leaned against the wall.
“I know I’ve never said it. I’ve felt it and didn’t know what it was. Only recently did I understand.” He gently rubbed her belly. “Then I had doubts that I could truly feel such an emotion. Now, seeing what you were about to do, I realize what I feel is true.” He tilted her chin up, then leaned in and kissed her tenderly on the lips. “I love you, Grace. I do not want to live without you.”
“Oh, Julius.”
Fresh tears poured forth from both of them.
“Grace, will you marry me?”
Emotion welled in the pit of her stomach, surging forth to constrict her lungs. “Marry you?”
He beamed through his tears. “I’ll post the banns as soon as you say yes.”
She sucked in a mouthful of air and let out a stammering sob. “Oh, Julius,” she cried into his chest. “I dared not dream of such a possibility. Yes, oh, yes.”
“Then it’s settled.” He kissed her hair.
She looked up at him. “When did you know…about the baby?”
The corner of his mouth twitched upward before he laughed. “Darling, I’m a doctor. A women’s doctor. I suspect I knew before you did.” He spread his hand on her belly, warm and protecting. “August, I should think. We’ll be married in a month.”
“We’ll be a family.” She smiled and nestled against the comfort of his chest.
Chapter Twenty-One
The peace of Salep Hill Cottage was so restorative Lavinia stayed on in Exeter for almost a week. Upon her return to London, she headed straight for the bath. To wash off the dirt from traveling is what she told Marie. Really she was washing Dr. Julius Christopher from every pore, every wrinkle, every crevice of her body. And from her soul.
And in doing so, she would open her heart to Arthur.
The heat of the bath was already doing its part, relaxing her muscles, calming her mind, opening her to possibilities of what could lie ahead.
She and Arthur belonged together, that was a certainty. And if they could not be married, then she would settle for an affair. For all she knew her husband had been in love with another woman. Perhaps it was his yearning for another and not his age that had kept him from her bed. She most definitely had not been in love with Richard. If he had loved another, she would not have cared one whit.
Which meant she would have to find Arthur a wife who would not mind his devotion to a mistress.
“My lady?” Marie’s gentle entreaty prodded her to the present. “Shall I wash your hair?”
“Yes, Marie. Thank you.”
Lavinia settled her head against the rolled edge of the tub while Marie placed a stool behind her. She began pulling pins when a tentative rap sounded on the bathroom door.
“I’ll go see, my lady.”
When Marie returned her smile was hidden behind an enormous bouquet of lavender roses in a plum-colored vase adorned with swirling gilt arabesques. The maid breathed in the scent. “Flowers for you, my lady.”
Lavinia’s pulse quickened. “Roses.” She dared not hope who the giver might be. “Was there a card?”
Marie handed her a small envelope. Inside was a calling card, the printed name centered in a blocky and thick authoritative script:
Arthur Harwell, the Earl of Petersham
Lavinia kissed the card before returning it to her maid. “Please put the roses where I may see them.”
Marie placed the vase on a side table next to the green-tiled fireplace and arranged the roses, releasing their fragrance. Lavinia melted into the curve of the tub, breathing in the steam, the scent of roses mingling with the lavender and rosemary soap, teasing her senses. Arthur. She would face whatever future awaited the two of them. She leaned her head back against the rim and closed her eyes, restraining her hand from drifting to the thatch of hair between her legs.
She would dismiss her maid after she had washed her hair and would dream of Arthur then.
Marie resumed her position on the stool to pull pins from Lavinia’s hair. The maid seemed as pleased as Lavinia with the gift. It wasn’t as if Lavinia rarely received roses. She did, rather frequently. But both women were satisfied with the sender. Marie had been a good accomplice during the visit to Atherley Keep.
“Lord Petersham knows your tastes, my lady.”
“He does, Marie.”
“It is good when a man remembers—”
The door swung open.
“Mon Dieu!” Marie’s oath was dampened by the clatter of the stool against the tiled floor.
Arthur strode in. “I see you received the roses.”
Lavinia straightened. “How on earth did you get past Sims?”
He chuckled, his brown eyes twinkling above his smile. “I told him to send up the footman in the event you should scream from my unwanted advances.”
Lavinia dismissed Marie with a wave. “Tell Sims and Archie that I shall be quite safe.”
Left alone, Arthur turned the lock and leaned against the bathroom door, his leer the only window to the lewd fantasy playing in his mind. “You’ve not been at home for several days.”
“Ah. So you’ve been pestering poor Sims all week.”
“I have. I tried to wrench out of him where you were.” He walked slowly toward her. “But then I realized it was none of my business.” He drew a finger along the lip of the tub. “I don’t care who you were with. I don’t care about your past, about any of your lovers. I only want to be part of your future.”
