Winter's Wild Melody Page 8

  Chance coloured and looked to her, a flush of colour creeping up his neck.

  “I beg your pardon,” he began, but Odette shook her head and slid her hand into his.

  She turned to her uncle, to the cold grey gaze of the man who had frightened her these past years.

  “On this occasion, you will ’ave no argument from me,” she said, deliberately dropping the ‘h’ to annoy her uncle. “I would like you to leave now, Uncle. Incidentally, I can imagine what the arrangement was: that you got my dowry and, in return, Lord Blackdown’s secret was kept safe. Until there was something else you wanted, at least.”

  Fury flashed in the man’s eyes, an expression which would once have cowed her into silence. “Odette, that is quite enough from you. You will hold your tongue and do as I say. This marriage is a farce and shall be annulled.”

  There was an angry, warning note to his voice, but Odette was done being afraid of this man.

  “Uncle Guy,” she began again. “I have no intention—”

  “Stop going on, child,” he snapped, heading for the door. “We are leaving. Now.”

  “Non. I will not leave, and I will not hold my tongue. Not any longer. Never again will I be frightened into obeying. Strange, is it not, Lady Blackdown, that where men are strong and firm and commanding, women go on, and nag and harp. the words are correct, I think? My English is not quite perfect, as my uncle rightly says.”

  “Oh, I think your understanding quite superior on all counts, my dear,” Lady Blackdown remarked, her amusement obvious. “A nagging wife is not to borne, is it Arthur?”

  Her husband raised her hand to his lips. “I do not believe I have been nagged once in all the years I have known you, Lucy.”

  Lady Blackdown shrugged. “But that is because you have a superior intellect, my darling, and recognise good advice when you hear it.”

  Their eyes met and Lord Blackdown grinned at his wife, adoration shining in his eyes.

  Odette laughed softly. Her mother-in-law was a strong woman, a woman who knew what it took to survive in a man’s world, and she had made a friend of her husband who quite obviously respected and loved her. Chance was a good man, and their marriage would be a success, she was certain of it. She turned back to her uncle, who had watched the exchange with a curl of disgust at his lips. Odette sighed.

  “It may be that I can forgive you in time, Uncle Guy. I remember when André and I were children, you were kinder then, not so cold and greedy, but that was a very long time ago and these memories are fresh yet. We shall see, but for now I should like to celebrate my marriage and Christmas with my husband and his family.”

  “Your family, dear,” Lady Blackdown said.

  Odette blinked very hard as the room became blurry.

  “My family,” she repeated, and smiled.

  Chapter 8

  “Wherein a marriage begins.”

  15thDecember 1817. Blackdown House. Devon.

  The great house was thrown into a flurry of activity as preparations were made for the unexpected newlyweds. Chance’s room had been made ready for him some days previously, but now his wife’s belongings were moved there too.

  His wife.

  Chance tried to make sense of the emotions jostling about in his chest but soon gave up. It was a confusing tumble of happiness, pride, anxiety, and hope. There was no point in trying too hard to understand it. They were married, and they would make their lives together.

  Much to his relief, Chance’s rooms were in the south tower, an elegant suite far removed from his parents. Bad enough his wedding night would take place under their roof without that mortification. Though, glancing at Odette, he saw she was exhausted after the trials of the day. Galling as it was to admit, he too was worn to a thread. It was not so much the early start and tedious journey, but the stress and anxiety that had pressed down on him all day that had wearied him. Well, he would play it by ear. As desperately as he wanted to take his wife to bed, he would not have their first night be anything less than perfect.

  Whilst preparations were being made, his mother had settled them in her parlour. It was one of the smallest rooms in the castle and her favourite place, snug and comfortable, with pretty, soft furnishings and a blazing fire. She’d provided them with a light repast and tea and, to his everlasting gratitude, a decanter of brandy. When she returned to them a short time later, she was all smiles.

  “Well, now. A bath has been prepared for you, Odette dear, and Anne is waiting to help. Harris will show you the way to your rooms, and Chance will be up in a little while.”

  Odette’s embarrassment was plain enough, but she mumbled her thanks and fled, not looking at Chance as she went.

  “Poor child,” Mama said as the door closed. “I shall have a talk with her before you go up, Chance. Never having a mother no doubt means she hasn’t the slightest idea of what a wedding night entails.”

  “Er, thank you,” Chance muttered, feeling every bit as awkward as Odette had.

  His mother snorted. “Oh, do stop looking so horrified, Chauncey, darling. You just make sure you are kind and patient tonight… well, all nights, I hope. Encourage her to talk to you. She’s a lovely girl and I think you are very lucky indeed, so don’t mess it up.”

  “Mother!” he protested, willing her to say no more, for his toes were curling already.

  Lady Blackdown let out an exasperated sigh and shook her head. “Listen to me, Chauncey, and attend my words well. You barely know each other and, though I am certain you are well matched, it is all too easy for even a good marriage to go awry, as you have seen this evening. What I told your father was true. A marriage takes time, commitment, and understanding. Whatever happens, talk to each other. Do not hide your feelings, or bury resentment. It will fester. No matter how awkward, you must share yourself, all of you. It is the only way to happiness.”

  Despite his discomfort, Chance looked to his mother, hearing the determination in her voice, the insistence that he heed her words. He nodded and took her hands.

  “You were ever the wisest of all of us, Mama. I won’t forget your words, I promise.”

  She smiled and leaned in to kiss his cheek.

  “Are you and Father…?” he began, not knowing quite what to say.

  “We are well, dear. Do not fret for us. I am happy, if I am honest. I have wanted to speak of this with your father for many years, for any punishment I once felt he deserved has been long since delivered. The burden of guilt is a terrible thing, son. Remember that.”

  Chance nodded, certain that was one lesson he would never need to learn. His father’s face as he realised Mama knew the truth—the regret etched deep into his eyes—had made an impression that Chance would not forget in a hurry.

  “The scandal, though,” he said, his heart turning at the idea Odette might be hurt by gossip, that people might shun or ridicule her. “She was missing for so long.”

  “All in hand,” Mama said with a smug smile. “When she did not come back that first night, I went out and visited Mrs Mugford. It seems Odette sprained her ankle, and that dear lady took her in. I’ve been visiting daily, taking little treats to keep the patient amused.”

  Chance gaped at his mother whose eyes twinkled with mischief.

  “I am the Countess of Blackdown, Chauncey, dear. Do not underestimate me.”

  “Does Father know?” he demanded, stunned. “Who else knows?”

  His mama shrugged. “I told your father I had it hand, but he does not know the details. He was too angry with you both to listen to sense at the time, so I let him stew. Mrs Mugford knows the truth, of course, as does Harris and John Coachman, but they are all loyal. I trust them implicitly.”

  “You are a marvel, Mama,” Chance said, shaking his head in wonder. “Truly, a marvel.”

  “Yes,” his mother said with a sigh as she walked to the door. “I am, and Odette will be too, if you allow her, Chauncey. If you give her the chance to be your friend as well as your wife.”

 
; Chance smiled.

  “She already is,” he said, knowing it was true.

  Though it had been the most mortifying half an hour of her entire life, Odette was endlessly grateful to Lady Blackdown for her little talk. Without the trace of a blush and with a no-nonsense, practical-tone, Odette’s new mama explained what she could expect from her wedding night, and the nights thereafter. When she was done, she embraced Odette and kissed her cheek.

  “I have five married daughters, Odette, and each one of them told me my advice was sound. You may rely on it. Besides which Chauncey is a kind-hearted man. You will have no difficulty, I think.”

  With that, Lady Blackdown patted her hand and sailed out of the room again.

  Goodness.

  Still a little dazed, and not a little intrigued, Odette lay back against the pillows and awaited her husband. She must have fallen asleep, for when she woke, Chance was laying beside her, watching her.

  “Chance,” she murmured sleepily, reaching for him.

  He gathered her to him and she gave a happy sigh at the feel of his arms about her, the warmth of his body enveloping hers.

  “Darling,” he said. “You can sleep if you like. It’s been a long day, I know. I’ve arranged for us to go away tomorrow. There is a little cottage by the sea not far from here. It’s quiet and private. We used to go there with Mama, as children, and sea bathe. Too cold for that now, but it’s very beautiful. I should like to show you.”

  “A honeymoon,” she said, smiling.

  Chance laughed and shook his head. “The first part of our honeymoon. I want you all to myself for a short while, but then, if you should like it, we shall go off and explore together. Paris, Rome, wherever you like. Parties, the theatre… name your desire. Tell me where you want to go, what you wish to see, and we shall see it.”

  She sat up, excitement gathering inside her at his words. “You mean it? We can go anywhere?”

  Odette had dreamed of travelling. It had been the one high spot of knowing she would marry André, a man who could only ever be her friend. He had promised her they would travel together, that they would have fun and leave his overbearing father behind them.

  “Of course I mean it. Your life has been confined, Odette. I do not mean to trap you again with our marriage. I want to set you free, love. Providing… Providing you always fly back to me, though I should very much like to fly with you, if I may.”

  “Oh.” She buried her face in his neck, holding on tight, overcome with happiness.

  He laughed and held her, one warm hand stroking up and down her spine, unravelling her senses. “There, there, we shall speak of it in the morning. I know you’re exhausted. Go to sleep.”

  To sleep?

  It was true enough that Odette was exhausted. At least, she had been exhausted. Now, though, the scent of him filled her head, a dizzying melange of soap, musk, and warm, virile male. It was intoxicating. She considered Lady Blackdown’s words and something hot and exciteable squirmed inside of her. Odette pulled back a little, now realising her new husband was wearing only a dressing gown. She glanced down the bed, to see his legs and feet were bare. Oh.

  Tentatively, she moved her foot and slid it from his ankle to his knee and back again. Hair rasped intriguingly beneath her toes. How curious. Chance had gone very still.

  She looked up at him then, studying his face, noticing the way his eyes had grown so very dark. “I don’t want to sleep.”

  “Oh, thank Christ for that.”

  She gave a startled laugh as he kissed her, and wrapped her arms about his neck. He pushed her gently down, deepening the kiss. He had kissed her before, but not like this. Before, he had been careful; they had both been too aware of the dangers of getting carried away and so had held back. Not now. Now there was no holding back, nothing to stop them, and the kiss went on and on. Chance’s hands moved over her, slowly at first, gently, but with increasing desperation as the heat between them grew, bubbling up into something Odette had no name for, but gave in to with no regrets.

  She gasped against his mouth as he hooked her knee and pulled it up, over his hip. He pressed closer and the touch of that masculine part of him against her most intimate skin was like a starburst behind her eyes. Sensation jolted through her and she clutched at him, staring up in surprise.

  “Oh,” she said.

  Chance grinned at her. “Like that, do you?”

  “Oui,” she nodded, proving her point by lifting her hips.

  He groaned, the sound sparking a triumphant blaze of heat and want deep inside her. Before she could do it again he was shrugging off his dressing gown, throwing it from him with an impatient gesture that made her smile. He turned back to her and her breath caught at the sight. She drank him in, cataloging everything she saw with breathless anticipation. Powerful shoulders, strong arms, and a scattering of dark hair over his broad chest. The hair continued on down, drawing her gaze lower. Odette swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry as looked her fill. He was beautiful. She did not think she had properly understood the word before, applying it to a pretty garden, or a gown she longed to own. He too was beautiful, though there was nothing soft or feminine about him. His body was a harsh landscape of muscle and sinew, punctuated here and there with scars that told the story of his soldiering days. She would hear him tell those stories one day, the tales that lay behind those scars, but not now, not tonight.

  “Touch me,” he pleaded, his voice a rasp of sound that made her skin prickle with awareness. “You cannot look at me so and not touch me.”

  Odette did, more than willing to oblige. She had been longing to touch him since that first brush of his lips upon hers. She trailed a finger along his jaw, which was freshly shaven since last she saw him, the skin smooth and warm. She followed the path down his neck, pleased at the shiver that ran over him as she traced the line of his collar bone.

  “Odette,” he said, his voice hushed, and she was unsure whether it was a question or a plea, or simply the need to say her name, but she looked at him and found his eyes dark with wanting.

  She held his gaze as her hand continued on its journey, straying to the flat disc of one dark nipple and lingering there. His breath hitched and she smiled. He did too, with a soft huff of amusement.

  “You enjoy torturing me, wife.”

  “Mmmm,” she replied, dropping her gaze to that dark trail of hair as her fingers moved through it. “I do, but I can stop if you prefer?”

  “No,” he said breathlessly. “No, please… please don’t stop.”

  She trailed a finger down the hard length of his arousal, intrigued by the silk and the heat and the strength of him, and by the pained sound that tore from his lips as she grew bold and curved her hand about him.

  “Montre moi,” she said, unable to take her gaze from the place her hand wrapped about him.

  “Love,” he said. “I can barely understand English right now, don’t test me.”

  She laughed, delighted by him, rewarding him by leaning down and pressing her mouth to his.

  “Show me,” she whispered against his lips. “Show me how to please you.”

  “Take this off first,” he demanded, tugging at her nightgown. “It would please me to see my wife in all her perfection.”

  Odette sat up on her knees and did as he asked, pulling the nightgown over her head and revelling in the rapt expression on her husband’s face. She had expected to feel shy, awkward and foolish, but Chance made her feel none of those things.

  “How lovely you are,” he said reverently, pulling her back down to him. They lay side-by-side, staring at each other. “I’m so happy I married you, Odette. I’ll try to be a good husband to you, I promise.”

  “Oui,” she said, nodding. “I know that you will.”

  He kissed her then, a kiss that made the fire he’d already lit blaze hotter, but she pulled back, wanting to know, wanting everything.

  “You said you would show me how to please you,” she reminded him.

  “Every
thing about you pleases me,” he said, kissing a path down her neck. “And I shall show you, with the greatest of pleasure, but not now. Now I want to please you, I want to make you my wife, and I fear things may proceed too quickly if I let you loose upon my person.”

  She frowned at him, a little puzzled, but he smiled and caressed her cheek.

  “Trust me?”

  At that, she let out a breath and nodded. “Always.”

  He carried on kissing her neck, her shoulders and she held her breath as he moved lower, shivering as he traced the valley between her breasts with his tongue. Her anticipation mounted as his mouth moved, lips brushing the soft curve of her breasts, and then he took her nipple into his mouth and suckled, and her mind whited out.

  It took a moment before she realised she was clutching at his hair, writhing beneath him, exclaiming in French, in English, and in a language she had never realised she knew, but which seemed composed of soft gasps, little cries, and deep, decadent moans of pleasure. Such wickedness! Surely she was speaking in tongues, not that she cared a whit as he moved lower and applied his diabolical talents to the delicate place between her thighs. The shock of it might have made her swoon if she had not been so eager for him to do so. Though Lady Blackdown had not mentioned such attentions during her little talk—and thank the good lord for that, for she’d never have been able to look the woman in the eyes again—Odette’s body did not seem to be in any way disturbed by this turn of events. Indeed, the way that secret place throbbed and clamoured was a fair indication that this was not only normal but desperately required. So she gave herself over to it, trusting in him, and in herself, to know what came next.

  He knew. Of course he did. He settled between her legs and smiled as she protested at her pleasure being halted. It began again, though, with the silken slide of his body against her, and once again the sparks flew, hotter and fiercer than before.

  “Chance,” she said, clutching at his shoulders.

  “Let me in now, love,” he said, and she became aware of an insistent pressure, of the blunt head pressing inside.