Virginia Henley - Unmasked by Virginia Henley

  "Can the Countess of Falmouth spare you?" Velvet regretted the words as soon as they slipped out. She knew that the invitation to show her the house was so they could move away from others and speak pri­vately. She placed her hand on his arm.

  "Do you have a room yet?" he inquired carefully.

  She shot him a quick glance, trying to read his ex­pression. "No, I... no." She shook her head. "My bag is in the carriage."

  "We shall retrieve it together." He led her through the east wing of Audley End and they emerged into a courtyard, well lit by iron lanterns and occupied by two dozen empty carriages.

  Outside, they stopped walking and turned to face each other. Alone, there was no longer a need to pre­tend politeness, no room for any pretense at all. "Why did you come?" he asked plainly.

  "I came to apologize. When I saw you with that girl at Roehampton, I assumed the worst. I was sure you had betrayed me by sleeping with her in our bed. Now I believe it was Charles who spent the night with her. I cannot take back the things I said. I can only ask you to forgive me for saying them."

  She was so contrite, he had to fight the urge to take her in his arms. "I never worry about the things you say, Velvet. My concern is the way you think of me. You don't trust me."

  When you invited me to Audley End, I wish with all my heart I had said yes. Instead, I pushed you into the arms of that Falmouth woman, and I have no one to blame but myself!"

  He shook his head. "Velvet, you still don't trust me."

  'She's not here with you, sharing your room?"

  "Come and see for yourself."

  They located her carriage and Montgomery ex­acted her bag. They walked together back to the house and he led the way to his chamber on the second floor of the east wing. He unlocked the door, set her bag down and watched as her glance swept about the room, seeking evidence of a woman's presence.

  When she caught him watching her, she laughed guiltily. "I was ready to scratch out her eyes."

  “Poor lady. She is out of favor with everyone."

  They both looked at Velvet's bag sitting by the door and it was an awkward moment.

  Will he ask me to stay with him? She held her breath.

  / am longing for you, Velvet, but if you stay here tonight, it will shatter my resolve. I vowed I would have all or nothing. I want your love, but tonight I am dangerously close to settling for your passion.

  By design, she was wearing her green gown with its silery ribbons. The one she had been wearing when they married.

  She's wearing my favorite dress. It makes her look love­lier and even more vulnerable than she did the night we wed.

  "Greysteel..."

  "Velvet, won't you put your things in the wardrobe?"

  "Yes, I will!" Her words came out in a rush of relief.

  "Would you like me to ring for a bath for you?"

  "Oh, that is so thoughtful. Thank you, Greysteel."

  In truth he had suggested the bath as a delaying tac­tic. He wanted to snatch her up and take her to bed im­mediately. His body was in a fever to make love, to touch and taste her, and smell the unique scent of her flesh, but he realized he would be much too possessive and demanding if he laid hands on her now. It would be far better for him if he could be a little detached.

  By the time Velvet had unpacked and brushed out her hair, the bath he had ordered for her arrived. A footman carried in a large slipper bath, and a pair of house servants followed and filled the tub with buck­ets of hot water.

  Greysteel took a chair beside the fire, his long legs stretched out before him. As Velvet undressed, she was acutely aware of her husband's eyes upon her. She had forgotten how much pleasure it gave her, and drew it out. She carried her precious gown to the wardrobe and hung it up. Then she slowly crossed the room, sat down on the bed and removed her pretty high-heeled shoes. She drew off her garters and stockings. "Charles invited me to go with you tomorrow."

  All his attention was focused on her legs and he was only vaguely aware of "what she said. "Mmm."

  Velvet removed her petticoat and busk and was sur­prised that he remained in his chair, half a room away. She stood up and gracefully stepped into the water. She looked at him through lowered lashes and saw that he still had not moved. She slipped down into the water. "May I have my soap from the dresser?"

  He swore silently. So much for vowing to keep my distance. He handed her the scented tablet and sat on the bed to observe and enjoy her ablutions. Though his fingers ached to dip below the water, he restrained himself with difficulty. When Velvet was finished bathing, however, his hands refused to obey his will. They lifted the towel of their own accord, enfolded her and lifted her into his lap. As he patted her dry, he marveled anew at the flawless beauty of her delicate skin. Velvet. The name she had chosen for herself as a child was perfect for the woman she had become.

  She slipped from his arms, donned a silk robe and pulled the bell cord. Then she sat down before the fire and waited for the servants to come and remove the bath. "What did you mean before when you said the Countess of Falmouth was out of favor?"

  Greysteel drew closer and leaned his arm on the mantel. For some perverse reason he did not feel inclined to keep the king's secrets from his wife. "His Majesty invited her. After only one night he found that they did not suit and regretted the invitation. He longs for Barbara. None other can satisfy him."

  Charles asked you to take her off his hands. If I hadn't arrived tonight, would you have done so? "Poor lady, in­deed," she murmured. Dear God, will I ever learn to trust him?

  When the servants came, he opened the door and gave them each a coin for their trouble. When they left, he locked the door.

  Velvet felt suddenly shy and a little wistful that he seemed in no hurry to make love to her. She glanced at the bed, wondering if she should remain where she was, since Greysteel liked to be the one in control.

  He fought the urge to pick her up and carry her to bed. Velvet had often chided him about his Arian con­trol and he feared his overt possessiveness disturbed her. He decided to undress and go to bed, allowing her to choose if and when she would join him. He re­moved his coat, then his shirt, and sat down on the edge of the bed to take off his shoes.

  From beneath her lashes she watched his every move. When he removed his shirt, a hunger to be held in his powerful arms rose up in her. She wanted him to press her soft breasts against the slabs of muscle in his chest, so that she could lift her arms about his neck and bury her lips against his throat.

  She was irresistibly drawn to him, and without con­scious thought she left the chair and walked a direct path to the bed. She stood before him and reached out to remove the leather thong that bound his black hair. It fell across his shoulders in dark, abundant waves and his virile, male beauty made her dizzy.

  His fingers unfastened her silk robe and he wor­shipped her naked breasts and belly with his eyes be­fore he allowed his greedy hands to cup and stroke her warm, rosy flesh. Now he was in a hurry, and quickly stripped off his breeches and hose. He opened his legs and pulled her close to stand between his muscled thighs. His palms moved over her round bottom and his fingers clipped into the tempting cleft between her bum cheeks.

  She slid her arms about his neck, buried her lips against his throat and rubbed her mons against his throbbing erection. She knew it was an invitation he would not refuse, and gasped with pleasure as he pressed her forward and thrust his cock into her hot, honeyed sheath, making her contract upon him and then pulsate. He drove in and up and the fierce pleasure was so intense she bit him to stop from screaming, but as his strong fingers tightened on her bum, her cries of passion urged him to plunge deeper, faster and harder. Suddenly they went rigid together for a long, drawn-out moment and then she felt his burst of white-hot seed erupt like a surging wave that engulfed all her senses.

  He picked her up and lifted her into bed, then lay down beside her and gathered her into his embrace.

  "I missed you, Greysteel," she whispered against
his lips.

  Lord God, not one-hundredth as much as 1 missed you. He kissed her gently, softly, now that their urgency had been quenched. He warned himself not to let his thirst to possess her body and soul consume him. His kisses were slow and lingering, rather than rough and demanding. He threaded his fingers into her curls, marveling at their silken texture, taking time to enjoy the feel and the scent of her hair. Though he had sworn to control his intensity and possessiveness, he soon became feverishly aroused again. Perhaps if he used his mouth to talk rather than kiss, he could curb his fierce desire.

  “Will you come with me tomorrow? I want to buy some horses for Bolsover. I'd like to start breeding my own horses and believe Bolsover Castle would be ideal. I have enough sheep at Montgomery Hall. What do you think, Velvet?"

  He had never discussed business affairs with her before and she was flattered. "I think it's a sound idea. My father bred horses there, and I know enough that sheep and horses shouldn't be raised on the same land. Is that why you wanted Mr. Burke?"

  "Yes, I intend to make him head steward at Bolsover. After the coronation, I expect to spend a great deal of time there. I'd like you to come with me, Velvet."

  Montgomery was asking her, not ordering her, and she was so thrilled that she arched against him, combed her fingers through his long, black lovelocks and set her mouth against his. It effectively put an end to his talk, and his kisses began in earnest. In spite of Greysteel's best intentions, his lovemaking became de­manding and possessive.

  The next day, the king, a few of his male friends and his brother Henry visited the Chesterford breeding farm. Velvet, mounted on a palfrey, was the only fe­male and as she rode between Greysteel and Charles, it reminded all three of the day they had ridden to­gether at Nottingham Castle.

  Greysteel saw the easy companionship that his wife and the king shared, and he wondered if Charles would always be his rival for Velvet's love. He might be able to accept it, so long as he came first and re­ceived the lion's share of her devotion.

  The king was interested in purchasing a couple of horses that he could race at Newmarket. He and Henry went off to conduct some speed trials with the trainers.

  Montgomery was more interested in broodmares, bloodlines, heats and studs. With Velvet's input he purchased six mares, four of which were already in foal. "I don't think I'll spend the money on a stud just yet. Perhaps my stallion, Falcon, can serve the mares." He grinned at Velvet. "The king simply takes what he wants and the Chancellor of the Exchequer pays for it. I have to fork over my money today, even though I'm not ready to take delivery yet."

  Their time at Audley End sped by quickly. Their days were spent at the Newmarket races, or visiting horse farms. Their nights were spent together as they became adept at eluding the evening entertainments the rest of the company enjoyed.

  Though originally Charles had planned to stay at his new country mansion for a fortnight, and though he had enjoyed himself immensely, by the tenth day he couldn't wait to return to London. He and Prince Henry, attended by Montgomery, rode at the head of the cavalcade and managed to arrive hours before those traveling by carriage.

  Charles and Henry were greeted by their brother James, whom the king had named high admiral of England. "I trust all is well, James, and we were not invaded while I was gone?"

  James laughed. "Nay, though there are many for­eign merchant ships in the Pool of London."

  Charles clapped Henry on the back. "This lucky knave won far more than I at Newmarket. He'll likely want to join you in your carousing tonight."

  "Not me. I'm off to the ships to buy a Spanish leather saddle and perhaps some fine French fash­ions."

  "You are in danger of becoming a dandy, my lad." Charles had a great affection for his young brother, who had known no luxuries until recently.

  Charles left them and went straight to his cabinet. He took out a map and spread it across his desk. Then he sent his page, Will Chiffinch, to fetch Arlington, his secretary of state.

  When Henry Bennet arrived, he soon learned that the king did not wish to indulge in small talk about Newmarket.

  "Henry, correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe the lord chancellor's power does not extend to Ireland."

  "You are absolutely right, Your Majesty."

  "Good. I want you to prepare a warrant for Mr. Roger Palmer to be Baron of Limerick and Earl of Castlemaine... and let me have it tomorrow."

  Arlington couldn't wait to share the news with his wife, and Lady Arlington immediately dispatched a note to her friend Barbara, in King Street.

  An hour later, Prodgers greeted the lady, who was wearing a mask and a voluminous cloak. He escorted her up the back stairs to the king's private chambers and tapped on the door. It was opened without delay to admit His Majesty's maitresse en titre.

  Barbara plucked off her mask and flew into the king's welcoming arms. "Charles, I don't know how I endured your absence. It felt like you were gone a twelvemonth. I was wicked to refuse your invitation to Audley End and can only plead my belly. Will you for­give me for being cruel to you?"

  "Don't I always, my love?" Charles kissed her pout­ing lips and brushed the dark red tendrils from her temples. His seeking hands slipped inside her cloak and caressed her voluptuous curves. "You grow love­lier each time I see you."

  "I grow bigger, at any rate," she murmured.

  "As do I." He pressed his erection against her soft belly. "I ordered supper up here. Come and share it with me." He removed her cloak and led her to a com­fortable couch. .

  Barbara kicked off her shoes. "Lud, that's better."

  Charles lifted her legs onto the couch so that she could recline more comfortably. He captured a foot and began to rub it, and then he massaged the other one.

  Barbara sighed with pleasure. "Your hands work magic."

  They shared a light supper, and Charles took de­light in feeding her succulent morsels of lobster and prawns. The way she licked his fingers was a potent aphrodisiac to him. His anticipation of her joyous re­action to the gift he was ready to bestow upon her grew apace with his lust.

  Barbara gave no hint that she knew about the title. She did not wish to spoil his pleasure when he told her.

  Charles made short work of stripping off his gar­ments, but lingered over undressing Barbara. She wore French silk undergarments especially designed to arouse a sensualist like Charles Stuart. He enjoyed the foreplay as much as coitus.

  He carried her to the royal bed and exulted in the generous way she opened to him, giving all, holding back nothing. Charles did a masterful job of masking his cynicism. He knew full well that Lady Arlington would waste no time informing Barbara that she was about to become a countess. He smiled sardonically and took satisfaction from the knowledge that they were well matched in both passion and guile.

  Chapter 23

  When Velvet's carriage arrived back at Whitehall, the hour was late and she was travel weary. She opened the door to her apartment and was happily surprised to find Greysteel there.

  "Emma is at Roehampton," she said breathlessly, hoping that knowledge would induce him to stay.

  The corners of his eyes crinkled. "Good. I won't have to send her down the hall tonight." He took her bag and set it down in the dressing room. "Are you hungry? The king and I arrived hours ago, so I've al­ready eaten."

  "To be truthful, all I want is my bed."

  He saw the faint violet shadows beneath her eyes. "You've had a long day." He poured them wine. "Here, drink this. You'll be asleep before your head touches the pillows."

  Greysteel helped her undress and lifted her into bed. Then he disrobed and hung his clothes in the wardrobe. He put out all the lights, climbed in beside her and gathered her to him.

  "I always forget how small you are, until we lie in bed together." He feathered kisses along her brow.

  "When I was a child, they called me a throwback. A little fish that's not worth keeping."

  He smiled into the darkness. "Frizzy Lizzy, my imp of Sa
tan." He raised her chin and kissed her.

  "You taste of wine," she murmured happily.

  "And you taste of wine and woman, a delicious combination."

  Velvet felt so warm and safe cuddled against him that she soon succumbed to peaceful slumber.

  Greysteel lay a long time, savoring the way she clung to him in sleep. The last time they had shared this bed, she had dreamed of Charles and called out his name. He pushed the thought away, confident that she would not do so tonight. Finally, he drifted to the edge of sleep. Perhaps you are starting to love me, Velvet.

  In the morning, when she awoke, Greysteel was not beside her, but he had left her something on his pillow. Velvet picked up the crackling document and her eyes flooded with tears. He has signed the deed to Roehampton over to me because he knows how much I love the Eliza­bethan manor. "It's the loveliest gift I've ever received in my life!"

  Barbara Palmer is to be Countess of Castlemaine. The news swept through the Court like wildfire. The king's mistress absolutely glowed as she reveled in the atten­tion and newfound respect accorded a titled lady. Now, of course, she wanted chambers at Whitehall, and set about persuading Charles.

  Velvet went to Pall Mall for another sitting of her portrait. She decided it would be a gift for Greysteel. It might shock him at first, but he cherished her flawless skin to such a degree, she believed he would grow to treasure the painting.

  "I want to thank you for recommending my work." Mary Beale meticulously mixed the warm cream-toned oil paint she used to re-create Velvet's flesh. "Your kinsman Lord Cavendish has commissioned me to do a portrait of his future bride."

  "I cannot take credit for that. His grandmother the Dowager Countess of Devonshire must have recom­mended you."

  "Painting ladies of the Royal Court is such a feather in my cap. It will establish me in London's art world."

  "Barbara Palmer is to receive a title. I'm sure she will want a portrait of herself as Countess of Castlemaine. Lely did her last one, but I'll suggest she come to you this time."

  When Velvet arrived back at Whitehall, she changed her clothes and went down to the Presence Chamber, where Greysteel joined her for dinner.