“Do you want to stop and sleep or drive on?” Trevelyan asked.
Claire knew whom he had spoken to but she acted surprised. “Were you speaking to me? I thought perhaps I had disappeared, that I had become invisible, that maybe I’d faded into the upholstery.”
“Nyssa is asleep.”
“That explains it,” Claire said nastily. “You have no one else to talk to. But then I guess you’ve told her all your stories. After all, you did have a great deal of time together on the long journey back from Pesha.”
“Nyssa is not a good listener,” Trevelyan said softly. “Not many women are interested in what I have done. Not as you are.”
A little of the hurt that Claire was feeling left her. “That’s surprising. She seems to be very interested in you.”
“In bed perhaps, but nowhere else. In my life I’ve found that for the most part people do not like to learn. They like to know and they like to tell others what they know, but they do not like the process of learning as you do.”
“In bed?” Claire whispered.
“Good God, woman, I’ve just given you the compliment of a lifetime and you give me back jealousy?”
“Compliment?” Claire spat at him. “What compliment? She’s the one you love.”
Even in the darkness she could see his eyes. They were glittering. “You’re wrong about that.”
Claire looked away, then leaned back and closed her eyes. “It’s none of my business what you do. We’ve done what we set out to do and I’m glad of it. Jack Powell won’t be able to offer proof that he went to Pesha. Perhaps you can teach your…your paramour to speak English and she can tell the Royal Geographic Society how you rescued her, both from Pesha and from Powell. Now, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll try to sleep.”
Claire couldn’t sleep. She kept her eyes closed but she was too aware of Trevelyan and the woman snuggled together on the seat across from her. She was puzzled by the depth of her anger, but she told herself that it was because their conduct was unseemly. They weren’t married, or even planning to be married, yet they were obviously lovers.
The sun rose, they stopped to eat and change horses, then they were off again. Nyssa woke up, and like a child, she was refreshed and restless. She and Trevelyan started playing a hand game to occupy themselves. Trevelyan asked if Claire would like to learn the rules and play too, but Claire said she’d rather not. She sat and watched them, watched the way they laughed with each other. She saw how easy they were in each other’s company.
At one point Nyssa looked at Claire, then said something to Trevelyan. Trevelyan turned to Claire. “Nyssa says that you look old and sour when you frown like that. She says it’ll give you lines in your face before your time.”
“I’m not frowning. I merely…” Claire couldn’t think of an explanation.
Nyssa spoke to Trevelyan again. “She says that you’re very jealous of her.”
“That’s ridiculous. Did you tell her that I was the one who insisted on coming with you? That you didn’t want me to go with you?”
“I’ve told her a good deal. I’ve told her all about Harry and your pending marriage to him, and I’ve told her about your family and about your dear little sister.”
“I wonder exactly what you told her? Did you tell her that my sister is more beautiful than she is?”
Trevelyan smiled. “No, I didn’t tell her that. I don’t think she’d believe me.”
“She’s vain, isn’t she? Vain and not awfully smart, judging from the silliness of your game. Can she read?”
“I doubt it.”
Claire sniffed in satisfaction and looked away. She was determined not to look at them again.
When they arrived at Bramley it was one o’clock in the morning and Claire knew that she should go straight to bed. She hoped that Brat hadn’t had any trouble covering for her. But as Oman helped her from the carriage, she looked at Trevelyan and Nyssa standing in the darkness, standing close together, and she didn’t want to leave them alone. She kept thinking of them in Bonnie Prince Charlie’s big bed.
“I’m starving,” Claire announced. “Absolutely famished. Oman, I know it’s late, but do you think there’s any food in the tower? I absolutely must have something to eat.” She could feel Trevelyan looking at her but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. She didn’t want to see that he knew what she was thinking.
When Oman nodded that he did have food, Claire put her head up and followed him into the tower, Nyssa and Trevelyan behind her.
Once in Trevelyan’s writing room, Claire walked to the window seat and looked out. She still didn’t want to look at Trevelyan and see what he knew. She should go back to her own room, back to where she belonged, but she kept seeing that woman kiss Trevelyan.
Oman served a cold supper in the bedroom. Claire took a seat across from Nyssa, then, to her surprise, Trevelyan pulled his chair up so that he sat next to Claire. So he can see her while she eats, Claire thought and bent her head over the food.
Nyssa spoke to Trevelyan in Peshan.
“She wants to know if you’re a virgin,” Trevelyan said.
Claire’s head came up. “Tell her it’s none of her business. Tell her that in my country it’s impolite to ask such a question.”
Nyssa spoke.
“She says that it’s impolite in her country also but that she’s the Pearl of the Moon so she can do whatever she likes. She asks if—” Trevelyan broke off and spoke to Nyssa. The two spoke for a few minutes. Oman was serving food and as Claire glanced at him, she saw that he was shocked.
“What’s she saying about me?” Claire asked.
“Nothing much,” Trevelyan answered.
“I want the truth. I want you to tell me what she’s saying.”
Trevelyan looked at Nyssa then at Claire. “She says that you have the look of a virgin. She says it’s a shame that you haven’t…”
“Haven’t what?”
“Nothing,” Trevelyan muttered and filled his mouth with food.
“I want to know!” Claire felt near tears. For hours now she’d watched the two of them together and she’d been angry every second of those hours. She was tired and she wasn’t thinking clearly. “Tell me what she’s saying. I’m not a child who has to have secrets kept from her.”
Trevelyan looked at Claire, his eyes intense. His voice was quiet when he spoke. “Nyssa said that it’s too bad you believe in keeping your virginity because, according to her, Captain Baker is a great lover.”
Claire looked at Nyssa, sitting there in her diaphanous robe, her exquisite little face with its slight smile, and Claire was furious, furious that so much was assumed about her. Why did this semi-harlot assume that she, Claire Willoughby, knew nothing?
“Tell her I’m not a virgin, and that I’ve had many lovers.”
“I’ll tell her no such thing.” Trevelyan sounded shocked.
Claire glared at him. “You are going to pretend to have scruples? You? You with your twenty-five women in one night? You are balking at one lie? Tell her I’ve had as many as a dozen lovers in one night.”
Trevelyan’s eyes started twinkling. “That’s too many.”
“Oh, is it?” Claire frowned. “How many’s an impressive number?”
“One man who kept you awake all night.”
“Just one?”
Trevelyan laughed at that. “One good one.”
“All right, tell her that then. Tell her I’ve had the world’s best.”
“And who would that be? Harry?”
“You leave Harry out of this.” Claire was losing her resolve to tell Nyssa anything. She looked back at her plate of food.
“I’ll tell her you and I have spent nights of ecstasy together,” Trevelyan said softly. “I’ll tell her that of all the women I’ve had, you have given me the most pleasure.”
Claire looked up at him, and the way he was looking at her made chills go up her spine. “You would do that for me?”
He gave her the softest, swe
etest smile imaginable, and Claire smiled back at him. “Thank you,” she said, then on impulse, she leaned forward to kiss his cheek. She meant to kiss the scar on his right cheek, to kiss that place that had once caused him such pain, but he moved his head, or perhaps Claire moved hers, and instead she lightly kissed his lips.
When her lips touched his, it was as though an electric shock went through her. She drew away instantly and put her hand to her mouth, looking at Trevelyan in horror.
There wasn’t horror on Trevelyan’s face; he looked surprised. For one split second, that guarded look of his was gone, and she saw that he was as shocked by the brief kiss as she was.
Claire forgot all about lies to impress Nyssa. She got to her feet instantly. “I have to go,” she said, her voice sounding almost frantic. “Oman, will you guide me through the tunnels to my room?” Claire was busily fiddling with her skirt. Anything to keep from looking at Trevelyan.
“You don’t have to go through the tunnels,” Trevelyan said from behind her. “I’ll take you to the servants’ entrance.” He spoke as though his jaws were clenched, as though he couldn’t bear to give away words.
Claire started to protest, but she couldn’t seem to get the words out. Silently, she followed him down the stairs. She had walked with him, behind him, before him, many times, but this time was different. This time it was as though the very air around her were charged. The air felt as it did before an electrical storm.
At the bottom of the tower, he held the door open for her and they stepped into the cool, moonlit night. Claire shivered once and began to rub her arms, then looked up to see Trevelyan staring down at her. His eyes were like two coals, burning as they looked at her. She looked away from him and he started walking again.
She followed him along the side of the house and as they walked, she looked at him. She looked at the tall leanness of him, at the breadth of his shoulders, at the way his hips moved when he walked. She’d once thought him too thin, too old, too sickly, too different from Harry to be considered a handsome man. But now she could see that there was nothing, absolutely nothing wrong with him. At this moment he looked to her to be the most handsome man on earth.
At the back of the house he stopped abruptly and turned to her. “Go in this door, through the first doorway on your right. There’s a narrow staircase there and it’ll take you to the second floor. I assume you can find your way from there to your bedroom.”
She looked up at him and nodded, then he turned away. “Trevelyan,” she called after him.
He stopped and turned back to her but took no step in her direction. There was about three feet of space between them, but to Claire it might have been nothing. She could feel his nearness, feel the warmth from his body. The palms of her hands were beginning to itch.
“About what happened in there. I mean with Nyssa. I shouldn’t have done what I did.”
“What did you do?”
She’d never noticed his voice before. It was low and husky. It seemed to send tremors through her body. She tried to smile; she wanted to make light of what had happened and what she was feeling now. “The…kiss. It didn’t mean anything. It was just that Nyssa annoyed me and I didn’t like her implication that I was a woman who knew nothing.”
He stood there silently, just looking at her, not saying a word.
“You have no comment to make?” she asked, somewhat irritably.
He didn’t answer.
“I guess I’d better go in now,” she said.
Still he said nothing.
“Then I wish you good night,” she said.
He gave a curt nod, turned on his heel, and started walking away.
Although she knew it was wrong, although she told herself she shouldn’t—couldn’t—say another word, she heard herself whisper, “Vellie.” It was the smallest whisper in the world, so quiet, so soft that the breeze in the trees overhead completely covered it.
But Trevelyan heard it. One second he was what seemed to be miles away from her and the next he was in her arms and his lips were on hers.
Lust, she thought. She’d heard it was one of the seven deadly sins but she’d never experienced it before. Now, his lips on hers, she knew she wanted to bury herself in him, lose herself. She wanted to drown in him. She turned her head, not knowing how she knew what to do, but she did, and she felt the sweetness of his tongue touch hers.
Her body arched as she pressed against him, her breasts hurting inside her clothes, hurting as they pushed against his hard chest. He moved one leg so his thigh was between hers, and Claire moaned as she clinched that heavy thigh of his with her own. Her fingertips felt swollen, aching with wanting to touch him.
Some part of her knew that this was the only time she could ever touch him, that this was the last night. After this she could never, ever again feel him next to her. She could forgive herself one lapse but not two. She wanted all she could get from this moment. She wanted to feel as much of him as possible.
Her hands moved over his back. How could she ever have thought him thin or old? She ran her palms up to his arms, felt the muscles there, then back down to his ribs and waist. Her hands moved lower and she knew she shouldn’t, Lord help her but she knew she shouldn’t, she ran her hands over his buttocks.
The next moment she turned her head away from him. “Stop,” she whispered. “Please stop. I can bear no more.”
Immediately, Trevelyan moved away from her and for a moment they stood apart, not touching, but looking into each other’s eyes. Claire knew he was waiting for an invitation from her. She knew that all she had to do was hold her hand out to him and he’d come to her. And she knew that if she touched him again she wouldn’t be able to stop. Her heart was thundering in her ears and her breath was coming in jerks, but she had enough self-control to keep her hands at her sides.
After a long moment he turned and walked away. This time she didn’t call him back, but slowly, on weak legs, made her way up the stairs.
Inside her room Brat was sleeping in her bed. Claire reached out to wake the child, but then pulled her hand back. Her sister’s livelihood depended upon her, Claire.
Claire sat down on the stool by her dressing table and looked about the big room. This was a room in the house of a duke, the house of a man she was to marry, yet she had just been kissing someone else. Kissing him, wanting him.
And what would happen if she gave in to her baser lusts? She would lose Harry; her parents would never approve of a man like Trevelyan and so Claire would lose the money her grandfather had left her. Then what? Her parents would no doubt spend her nearly ten million dollars within a couple of years.
Claire put her face in her hands, feeling disloyal. Her parents had been good to her and she owed them a great deal. But she wasn’t a fool. If she married Harry, then the money would come to her and she’d be able to control it. She could invest it, watch it grow, and she could parcel it out to her parents, who had no idea how to control their own impulses. She could plan a dowry for her sister, see that Sarah Ann married a good, stable man, a man like Harry. A man who bought pictures and horses, Claire thought and began to cry. Now she was betraying the man she loved and all because she’d kissed a man and felt lust for him.
“What’s wrong?”
Claire jumped when Brat put her hand on her sister’s shoulder. “Nothing,” Claire said, drying her eyes. “I’m just tired, I guess. You’d better go to your own bed now.”
Sarah Ann didn’t move. “It’s Trevelyan, isn’t it?”
“No, of course not. Why should I cry over Trevelyan? I’m just tired. I would really rather be alone.” Claire went on dabbing at her eyes and didn’t look up until after Sarah Ann had left. She began to undress for bed.
Nyssa greeted Trevelyan at the door to the sitting room with open arms, but he pushed her away. He went to the bottle of whisky on a side table, poured himself a full glass, and drank it like water.
“What has happened?” Nyssa asked in English.
“N
othing has happened,” he snapped at her.
She watched him as he refilled his glass and drank again. “It is around you.”
“What is?”
“Desire.”
He gave her a cold look.
“I can feel it; I can almost see it. All around you is desire. But it is not for me.”
“Nonsense. You’ve listened to too many romantic stories.” He went to the table where once his notes on Claire had been. Now there was a chessboard set up. He moved a white piece, a black piece.
“This woman means a great deal to you.”
“You’re crazy. I told you that she’s to marry Harry.” He looked at her, his eyes hot. “I desire a great many women. Perhaps she’s one of them. She’s no more than that.”
“This desire you feel for this woman, how does it compare to what you’ve felt for other women?”
Trevelyan picked up the white queen. “Were all the women I have had and all the women I have wanted rolled into one, they would not equal my desire for her.”
Nyssa was silent for a while. “Then you must go to her.”
With that Trevelyan swept his forearm across the chessboard, knocking pieces to the floor. “And become her lover? Shall I love her, then stand back and watch while she marries Harry? Shall I remain here and wait until Harry leaves, then go to her?”
“Being the lover of a married woman has never bothered you before. I have heard you brag that you could climb in any window. I have heard you say that married women are your pleasure because they give to you their joy and to their husbands they give their misery.”
“I want her misery too,” he said softly.
“What?”
“I want her bloody misery too,” he shouted. “I want all of the bitch. She—” He calmed.
“She what?”
“She takes away the loneliness. When I’m with her I’m not lonely.” He stared at Nyssa awhile, then gave a half-hearted smile. “There are other women. There are women who don’t believe that being a duchess is everything in life.”