The Louise Allen Collection. Louise Allen

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СКАЧАТЬ make love to her until they both dropped from exhaustion.

      Snarling at himself, he threw open the larder door and began to lift out platters and jars, banging food down on the table as though to knock out an opponent. He had made her cold, wet, shocked and embarrassed. And all he could do to make up for it was to try to give her a decent meal.

      Decima eased herself into the hot water, letting the physical shock of it on her chilled skin drive away the other shocks her body had experienced for a fleeting moment. The respite did not last. She slid under the water until it lapped her chin and her hair was soaking. Her arms lay by her sides. She felt too self-conscious even to risk touching herself; everything throbbed or tingled in an overwhelming manner.

      She had wanted a kiss, just a kiss. She could admit that to herself. In her innocence she had expected it to be pleasantly intimate, full of the scent and warmth she had experienced when Adam had carried her. She had not expected it to devour every sense, to overturn her mind until she was almost screaming with desire for him to touch her, stroke her, everywhere. To do things she could not begin to understand, let alone find words for.

      Of course she knew the basic facts of life. But somehow she had expected all of that to be confined to the actual marriage bed. Surely kissing was simply a mildly amorous gesture? It seemed not. How was she ever going to face him again?

      The water was beginning to cool. Cautiously Decima lifted the tablet of soap and began to wash. Face, arms, hands. All safe. She swallowed and slicked foam rapidly over the swell of her breasts, gasping as they seemed to turn heavy and full under her palms. Feet, those were safer—except for the memory of Adam’s big hands rubbing them back to life. Calves, thighs…her hands trembled and stilled above the soft tangle of curls. He hadn’t touched her intimately, so where had that hot, heavy yearning feeling come from? From the feel of his hard weight pressed against her, that was where. Pull yourself together, Decima, you cannot go through life not washing properly!

      A few hasty, soapy swipes later she scrambled out of the bath, snatching up towels from the pile and swathing herself in them as though Adam was still in the room. No dressing gown. Now what should she do?

      There was complete silence in the adjoining room. Decima peeped round the door, then scuttled for her own room, bursting in to find Pru with her hands full of petticoats and a disapproving expression on her pale face.

      ‘Pru, you should be resting.’

      ‘I’m well enough if I sit down now and again. I’ve put clean clothes out for you, Miss Dessy.’

      ‘Thank you. Now, please, sit down. How did you know I needed them?’ Oh Lord, Adam hadn’t said anything to Pru, had he?

      Pru perched on the edge of a chair and regarded her. ‘His lordship said you’d got wet.’

      ‘Well, so I did. There is no need to look so starched up, Pru.’

      ‘I saw his lordship. I’d say you got more than wet, Miss Dessy.’

      ‘Pru! What do you mean?’ Decima began to pull on her clothes, suddenly shy in front of the other woman as she had never been before.

      ‘His shirt was all pulled out—covers a multitude of sins, that does—his colour was up, breathing like he’d run round the house ten times and not very happy at meeting my eye. And look at you, Miss Dessy. All of a fluster, mouth that looks as though you’ve been rouging it—and see your neck.’

      Decima looked reluctantly into the mirror her handmaid thrust at her. A new Decima stared back. A wanton-looking creature with wide eyes, swollen mouth and, up the column of her neck, reddened patches. She lifted her hand to them, horrified to find her tentative touch produced not so much a feeling of pain as one of acute sensitivity.

      ‘That’s a man who needs to shave twice a day if he’s going to do that sort of thing,’ Pru pronounced. ‘Honestly, Miss Dessy, I thought he was a gentleman. Just goes to show you can’t trust any of them,’ she added darkly.

      ‘Pru, it’s not like that.’ Decima turned her back while her stay laces were jerked punishingly tight. ‘I am just as much to blame, and it was only a kiss.’ She saw Pru’s disbelieving face. ‘Goodness, you don’t think he…that we…Certainly not!’

      ‘If you say so, Miss Dessy.’ Pru handed her the petticoat.

      ‘I do say so, Pru. And it was certainly improper, I admit, but I am glad he did kiss me because at least I know what it is like and I will not be seeing him again once we leave here anyways.’ Decima dragged her gown over her head and emerged flushed and breathless. I will not be seeing him again. Ever.

      ‘Hmm. Well, I’d better get changed and come downstairs, Miss Dessy. This gown’s all crumpled.’

      Decima stared at her. The thought of Pru sitting there, a silent, disapproving chaperon all evening, filled her with horror. It was going to be hard enough facing Adam again, but to do it with a witness was impossible.

      ‘No, Pru. I would be too embarrassed. He and I need to…to agree some things between us. You stay here and rest and I will bring you your dinner up.’

      She went downstairs half an hour later, immaculate and quivering with nerves, to be greeted by a wave of succulent odours as she pushed open the kitchen door. Adam was uncorking a bottle of red wine; as she watched, he tipped it into a deep pan which was simmering on the range.

      At the sound of the door closing he looked up at her, then went slowly to put the empty bottle on the table. The silence crackled between them, filled with unformed words, unspoken thoughts. ‘You are cooking dinner,’ Decima managed at last, wincing at the banality of the obvious.

      ‘I thought the least I could do, having soaked you through with icy water and frightened you half to death, was to feed you something hot. There was some pigeon left, and a rabbit.’ He ran his hand abruptly through his hair and moved away a few steps as though to give her space. ‘Where is Pru?’

      ‘Upstairs. I don’t need her here. You didn’t frighten me, and you don’t now. I frightened myself.’

      ‘Decima. I am sorry.’ She had not heard him going back to his room, but Adam had changed his clothing for the dark elegance of evening dress, as though to reassure her with its formality. ‘I cannot pretend I didn’t want to kiss you, but I never meant for it to go so far.’

      ‘I…I liked it. It would be unfair of me to say I did not. But it was too much, all at once, so I didn’t know how to stop.’ She made herself keep her eyes on his face. He was being honest, so should she. ‘But you did, so that’s all right.’

      Adam turned away sharply. ‘You really are a quite remarkable woman.’

      Decima flushed. ‘A wanton one, you mean. Perhaps I led you on, I am sorry—’

      ‘Don’t apologise!’ He swung back to face her, his face full of an anger that she knew was not directed at her. ‘I said extraordinary—I mean just that. Why aren’t you having the vapours, threatening me with your brother?’

      ‘I told you,’ she said patiently, going over to dip a spoon in the fragrant, bubbling stew. ‘It was at least as much my fault as yours, it was extremely…interesting and there is nothing to have the vapours about. This is very good stew. Shall I peel some potatoes?’

      Suddenly it was all right СКАЧАТЬ