Educating Elizabeth

Chapter 23

"What in God's name is going on?"

"I'm not sure, Your Grace, we found her like this."

Gervase shooed Sir John and Nicholas out of his way. Elizabeth lay slumped over her desk, her fingers curled around her quill pen, her cheek pressed into the scribbled sheet of parchment on her blotter. It was eight o'clock in the morning and Gervase had no inkling how long Elizabeth had been lying there. He felt for a pulse and went down on one knee beside her chair.

"Elizabeth?"

Her eyelids fluttered open and after a long distracted moment she focused on him. He flinched at the desolation in her gray eyes. "I cannot break the code," she croaked as he reached instinctively for her hand. "I'm too stupid."

A single tear ran down her pert nose. Gervase knew she hated to cry. A wave of tangled emotions swept through him and he reached forward to enfold her in his arms.

With a pitiful sob, she cuddled into him. He sat in her vacated chair and placed her on his lap. He rocked her as though she were a child, murmuring nonsense to her in both French and English whilst he smoothed his hands over her back.

After a while, her ink-stained hand crept around his neck and held him tight. Gervase produced a large handkerchief and gave it to her.

"You are too tired to break the code, not too stupid. I've pushed you too hard and I deeply regret it." She opened her mouth but he placed his finger across her lips. "I didn't ask you to speak, Elizabeth. I'm going to take you away for the weekend so that you can forget about the code and concentrate solely on pleasing yourself." He bent to brush a kiss on her ink stained cheek. "And me, of course."

Two hours later, Elizabeth sat opposite the duke in his luxuriously sprung traveling coach on her way to his country residence in Chipping Ongar, Essex. She couldn't believe the speed at which their removal was accomplished. She had done nothing but sleep, at the duke's autocratic command. When she had awoken, she put on her bonnet and cloak and they were off.

She was relieved to be free from the confines of the house and the torture of the intransigent code. Glad to be alone with the duke too, if she admitted the truth. She was so worried about her lack of progress that she had been unable to sleep and had crept down to her desk in the gray light of the dawn. The next thing she remembered was the duke calling her name.

The duke smiled. "Are you feeling a little better, my dear?"

"Yes, Your Grace, I feel much restored. I was just thinking how nice it is to be away from London."

He reached forward and took her gloved hand in his. "I'm glad that you feel that way, Elizabeth, for there is something I would ask of you." Elizabeth responded to the pressure on her hand and leaned toward him. "I want you to pretend that we have left Miss Elizabeth Waterstone, code breaker extraordinaire, at the London house." He smiled at her evident confusion and worked her glove from her hand. "I want you to pretend that you are the dashing widow, Mrs. Waterstone, off on an illicit weekend with her lover."

Elizabeth considered the duke's improper suggestion as he removed her other glove and tugged at the ribbons of her bonnet.

"What would a dashing widow do that a well brought-up young lady would not?" she asked.

"Sit beside me, for one thing."

Elizabeth moved to his side and he slid an arm around her shoulders. He kissed her with a thoroughness that made her weak and yet heated her senses at the same time. He angled her away from him and began to work free the buttons on her bodice.

"The first time we met, my dear, when I brought you home in my carriage, I wanted to pull you into my lap and make love to you."

His words made her draw back. "But you didn't even know me! How could you have considered such a thing, even if it had been possible?"

His long fingers captured her chin. "I hesitate to remind you of an unpleasant event, Elizabeth, but at the time I thought you were a prostitute. I thought you would be willing to do anything I told you to." His mouth hardened with apparent regret.

His fingers freed the last button on her bodice and slid beneath the corset to splay possessively over her breast. She shuddered as he allowed his thumb to tangle lightly with her nipple. "And as for making love in a carriage, my dear, you are just about to find out if it is indeed possible."

A long while later, Gervase opened his eyes and looked down at the top of Elizabeth's neatly coiled hair. She had fallen asleep in his arms after he had shown her just how easy and how enjoyable it was to make love in a coach. He had loved her fierce concentration when she climaxed and the way she clung to him afterward.

Her flushed cheek lay against his chest and her fingers clutched the silver buttons of his waistcoat. He shifted across to raise the window blind to check their progress. Even in the gathering darkness, he estimated they were passing through Woodford Bridge, a small hamlet about five miles from their destination.

His cock jerked as he moved back, reminding him he was still buried deep inside her and that he would need little encouragement to begin enjoying her again. He slid his hands between their fully clothed bodies and her eyes opened. She smiled sleepily as he touched her bunched-up petticoats and crumpled skirts.

She made a small sound as he grasped her hips and began to lift her away from him. He froze as his instincts roared to set her back down on his stirring flesh.

Her dreamy gaze focused on him. "It feels a little strange to be so decently clothed and yet so intimately joined underneath."

He couldn't restrain the instant upward surge of his hips but he managed to master his ragged control and pulled out of her. He swung her around to sit on the seat beside him and fought to fasten his tight breeches over the urgent swell of his shaft.

She watched him without a word, her arms wrapped around her upper body, her skirts in a froth of disarray. When he was decent again, he pulled her to her feet and stood her between his knees. She placed her hands on his shoulders against the rocking of the carriage as he buttoned her bodice and straightened her skirts.

"Gervase," she said as he handed over her bonnet and gloves and guided her into the seat opposite his. "You were still inside me when I woke up and I did not think to prepare myself..."

She blushed as he took in her meaning and fought his own disbelief. How could he have been so careless? Despite his lessons, she was not an experienced courtesan or a married woman who knew how to handle such matters. She could scarcely have imagined he might choose to ravish her in his carriage.

"When do you expect your monthly courses?"

He watched her struggle with the indelicacy of his question and try to form an answer. "I believe I will bleed on Monday." She gave him a rather tremulous smile. "That is good news is it not? Angelique said that was one of the safest times to make love."

Gervase smiled back as he envisioned a weekend of staying inside of her without fear of her breeding. His body stirred again in sensual anticipation. "Yes, my dear, that is very good news indeed."

When they turned into the long driveway that led to his house, he allowed her to pull up the blinds that covered the coach windows. The carriage slowed as the coachman negotiated the twists and turns of the elm-tree-lined graveled drive. Lights appeared and disappeared in the mist filled darkness as the carriage began its final descent.

"Oh, Gervase." Elizabeth breathed. "It is beautiful."

Gervase took up a position at the other window as Diable Delamere Hall came into view. Moonlight shimmered off the formal lake beyond the circular driveway and laid a silvered pathway to the majestic front door. His father had remodeled the front of the house in the classic Greek style and its gracious white columns and pediment reflected back the moonlight, giving the house a pale, almost unearthly glow.

When Gervase came around to help Elizabeth out of the carriage, she pressed her fingers into his sleeve to prevent him from moving. She stared at the mansion's ghostly façade. "It feels as if the house is floating above the mist. Is it often like this?"

Gervase shrugged and then urged her toward the steps as a bevy of servants descended to deal with their luggage. "I suppose it is. I've not had time to visit for a long while."

She squeezed his arm as they entered through the massive oak front door. "Then it is obviously time that you did." She came to a halt and gazed up at the massive hammer beam ceiling that rose thirty feet above their heads. Ancient tattered banners hanging from the beams stirred in the draughts and antique weapons gleamed against the lime washed walls.

The duke steered Elizabeth up the shallow wooden staircase. "The original house is much older than it appears. It was begun at the end of the fifteenth century." He gestured behind him as they ascended until they reached the minstrel's gallery. "This would have been the great hall when the house was built. My father decided to modernize the house and slapped a new frontage on it."

From his tone, she deduced that he had not been totally in favor of his father's renovations. Before she could ask, he stopped in front of a bedroom door and opened it for her with a flourish. "This suite connects with mine next door but I thought we should keep up appearances."

She looked around the faded elegance of the silk-lined room and took in a slow breath. Her senses reached out and tentatively embraced the ancient aura that surrounded her. This was a home. This was a place to make babies and watch children grow, a place to rejoice and a place to mourn. She'd never had a real home and yet she recognized its essence instantly.

She turned to say something to Gervase, who remained beside the door. She realized that he probably wouldn't share her feminine appreciation of the beauties and sense of love that she ached to embrace. He folded his arms across his chest as if to protect himself from whatever he had seen or guessed at in her eyes.

She managed to smile. "The room is perfect. I will enjoy sleeping here."

He crossed the space between them in three easy strides and pulled her against him. "You will not be sleeping here. You will be in my bed and you will not be sleeping much there either."

She slid her hands up his arms and locked them around his neck as he drew her into a kiss that seemed destined to last for the rest of the night. She responded to him as eagerly as she imagined the previous occupants of this room had reacted to the other magnificently endowed members of the Diable Delamere male line.

"We will dine first, and then retire to bed," he ordered with a smile. "I'm quite certain you will wish to have an early night."

Gervase awoke with a start as the hoot of an owl echoed across the silent sky. He turned his head on the pillow and gazed at Elizabeth, who lay curled against his side, one hand across his chest, the other trapped below his hip. The moonlight brought out the hidden glint of gold in her brown, curling hair and gilded her lips with silver.

He let out a long, slow breath and slid his hand up to her bare shoulder. She smiled in her sleep and moved closer, her nose nuzzling the crisp black hairs on his chest. The owl had woken him in the middle of a dream and he could still recall the textures and scents of it. He had been at peace, holding his son in his arms as he slept.

He swallowed hard at the vivid image and braced himself against the pain he knew would follow. Elizabeth murmured something soothing against his flesh as though even in her sleep she could sense his tension.

Minutes ticked by, counted by the clock on the mantelpiece. Gervase let out a wary breath as his grief flowed outwards, through Elizabeth, instead of settling like a clenched fist in his gut.

He studied her quiet, unremarkable features with close attention. Sleeping with her in the same bed had turned out to be everything he had hoped for. In the quiet of the night, he could even admit that she brought him peace. Even as he acknowledged it and firmly shoved the thought away, his body came to shocking life. He knew that he had to possess her, had to imprint himself on her until she no longer wished to leave him.

Without further thought, he rolled her onto her back and crawled on top of her, the urge to join with her so acute that he couldn't stand to wait for another second. He nudged her knees apart with his thigh. As she started to wake up, he drove forward until his cock was buried as deeply as he could manage. He waited until she adjusted to his throbbing presence and her heartbeat and breathing mirrored his.

To his relief, she didn't protest his indecent haste. She drew her legs up higher to allow him deeper penetration and clung to his hips. With a growl, he took all she offered and demanded more, his tempo fast, his thrusts pressing her down into the mattress as he sought to meld himself with her, to take what she sheltered within her, to join himself with her inner peace.

He increased his pace and she began to pant, his hips pumping, his breath harsh against her skin. She opened her eyes and stared into his intent face as he drew back a little and braced his hands on either side of her hips. She gasped when he slid her legs up his arms and over his shoulders, opening her wide to him as he continued to thrust. She closed her eyes and reached for his muscled forearms. Her feeling spiraled and tightened and she no longer cared what he did to her as long as he never stopped doing it. Pleasure crashed over her and her body jerked upwards to slam against his while he pounded into her.

He groaned deep in his throat when she tightened around him until he could no longer breathe, no longer see. He thrust forward one last time and then followed her into the valley of pleasure they created together and wallowed in it, luxuriated in it, loved it.

He had no words to give her for waking her so abruptly and for once she didn't ask for any. He rolled over onto his back, bringing her with him and shut his eyes as the sense of completeness and peace she brought with her saturated and surrounded him.