Undesirable Liaison (26 page)

She then leaned
swiftly to kiss the girl, and was both astonished and touched to
find herself ruthlessly hugged. Her sister’s muffled tones came
close to her ear.

‘I do love you,
Flo. I know I’m bad, but if I didn’t have you, I’d be a great deal
worse.’ Releasing her hold, Belinda threw herself onto her pillows.
‘And if you ask me, Lord Langriville could do a lot worse than to
marry you.’

Florence said a
quick goodnight and retreated from the room in disorder. Shutting
the door, she leaned against it, putting up a hand to her chest
where her heartbeat still thrummed unevenly. Was the child acute,
or merely daydreaming? Lord help her, if Belinda ever discovered
what had happened between herself and Jerome!

She made her
way to her own chamber, her mind ruthlessly presenting her again
with the impossible she had already rejected. Naïve of Bel to
imagine there was more than desire in Jerome’s eyes. He liked her,
yes. But not in that way. Schooled by Mama’s experience, Flo would
not mistake it. Not in him—nor in herself.

But all the common
sense in the world could not prevent a wistful wish that things
might have been different. Could Belinda know she was herself a
potent barrier, she would be destroyed. For the latest in an
uncountable number of times, Flo vowed her sister must never find
it out. Which brought her to remembrance of Lady Langriville’s
foolish proposition. Lord, matters were becoming increasingly
complicated! The sooner the two of them left Bedfont Place, the
better it would be for the both of them. If only Jerome could be
evaded.

Rounding the
corner and slipping down the corridor, she arrived at the door of
her chamber. It was open, and Flo automatically paused, a question
in her mind. As she hesitated before the doorway, a hand reached
out and seized her arm.

Florence gasped
with fright. A second later, she had been pulled into her room and
the door slammed shut behind her. Jerome jerked her into his arms,
and his lips came down on hers in a merciless kiss.

***

The feel of her
held tight against him brought an unexpected sensation of solace.
Jerome struggled to express it as his mouth came away from hers and
buried into the piled up black hair.

‘To be with you
is like coming home.’

‘You must not,’
she muttered into his shoulder, fighting uselessly against the rise
of heat within her and the patter leaping in her veins. ‘We must
not—not again.’

‘I know, but I
can’t help it.’

He drew away
and caught her face between his hands, searching intently, from the
high cheekbones to the pointed chin, and coming back up to the
almond eyes, bright in the light of the candles he had lit in the
wall sconces against the onset of dusk. They stared back at him,
and he read in them apprehension and puzzlement.

‘Don’t look so
troubled. It’s of no use to fight it, for I’ve tried without
success these past days.’

‘Is that
why…’

She could not
go on. It was not what she had meant to ask.

Jerome
understood her. ‘Why I have held off from you? That, and other
considerations.’

What other
considerations? She longed to ask, but she knew it was futile. She
did not want to hear further how his longing for her was tied up
with his late wife.

His dark eyes
sought and held hers, as his hands slid down to her shoulders,
gripping them hard. A husky quality entered his voice.

‘Don’t go!
Don’t even try. I can’t do without you, Florence.’

The entirety of
her resolve flew out of Flo’s head as her heart lurched. There was
only the desperate necessity to know she was needed for herself
alone.

‘Are you sure?
Are you certain it is me you want?’

For answer,
Jerome sought her mouth again, closing his eyes. His lips gentled
hers, drawing the honeyed sweetness from within.

As his mouth
left hers, whispered words of reassurance assailed Flo’s ears.

‘How could you
be anything less than yourself, my distrustful bird? I am wholly
free of Letty, don’t you see? To know her for what she was released
me.’ He drew back and in his eyes she found a world of suffering
need. ‘What I didn’t know was that you, Flo, had already taken her
place—and that was my confusion.’

Uncertain, she
searched his features, shadowed in the darkening room. She had
taken the place of his wife how? Merely in the desire that claimed
them both. There could be nothing more. But it served at least to
show her why he had reacted so violently to the thought of her
going.

‘I had no wish
to desert you, Jerome,’ she said as if he had been privy to her
thoughts.

‘I know it. Yet
the very notion of your leaving—’

‘Reminded you.
Yes, I see that.’

His hands slid
down her body. ‘How can I be estranged from you?’

Florence gasped
at the heat generated by his touch. Almost without realising what
she did, she leaned in for his kiss. The heat intensified.

‘Dear God!’
Jerome swore, releasing her. ‘Wait one moment.’

He let her go,
and Flo staggered on weakened knees. Jerome was at the door to the
corridor, but he glanced back, reaching out to her.

‘Steady!’

She shook her
head, regaining balance, though tremors attacked her.

‘I am all
right.’

A quick smile,
and he turned back to the door, hunting for the lock. Florence
heard the key turn, the lock dropping into place with a loud click.
He crossed the room to secure the other door, and her body began to
react with foreknowledge of what was about to happen.

Seconds later,
she was scooped bodily from the ground, and a sense of helplessness
swept through her.

‘Jerome, what
are you doing?’

‘What do you
think I’m doing?’

With that, she
was tossed unceremoniously onto the bed, and Jerome began to
struggle with her clothing. She did not resist, instead throwing a
hand across her eyes with a groan.

‘Lord help me,
how have I come to this again?’

Jerome captured
her fingers, pulling them away from her eyes. ‘It was inevitable.
Don’t fret so, my bird. You don’t know it, but you are firmly upon
the road to perdition. There is no turning back now.’

She heard the
amusement in his voice and seized his shoulders to hold him off,
anguished.

‘Don’t joke!
Jerome, this is horrible. I never thought I could be so
abandoned.’

‘It is
intensely pleasurable to me that you are,’ he returned, resuming
his interrupted task. ‘Let us, for the Lord’s sake, be rid of these
damned clothes!’

But Flo, lost
in contemplation of her own depravity, made no move to help him as
he began to tug and juggle in an attempt to divest her of the
plethora of layers that comprised her costume.

‘This cannot go
on, Jerome,’ she said, allowing herself to be pulled to sit up so
he could tug her bodice away and drag the sleeves from her
arms.

‘Now for these
confounded petticoats. Why must you females wear so many
layers?’

Without
thinking, Florence started to wriggle out of her skirts. With an
oath, Jerome set her back upon the pillows and frantically tugged
the offending garment down over her under-petticoats.

‘Are you
listening to me?’ she demanded.

‘No,’ he
answered, fighting with the knot at her stay-laces.

‘But you must!
If Belinda or your mother should discover our liaison, it would be
disastrous.’

Jerome’s
determination to remove her clothing would brook no discussion of
this kind.

‘Quiet, my
bird, don’t speak of it now.’

‘How can I not?
We have got to take care.’

He ceased his
wrestling and leaned to kiss her, only half realising he meant to
silence her. To his surprise, she kissed him back with all the
fervour he could wish. Untangling himself, he drew back and stared
at her. Her black hair had come loose, and now hung about her face
in a disordered cloud. The almond eyes were misty, her lips parted,
ripe for his ardour.

‘How can you
look so desirable, so ready to be tumbled, and yet talk of matters
guaranteed to dampen the proceedings?’

There was a
caressing note in his voice, and Flo’s veins quickened in warmth
utterly different to the heady blaze evoked by his lovemaking. A
thought, jolting into her brain, threw her into confusion.

Could it be—?
Was it possible Mama had been wrong?

Then the
thought was lost in a haze of yearning as Jerome resumed his
assault. For some little time, Florence had no room for anything
but sensation, giving way once more to his intensely pleasurable
demands.

Afterwards she
rested in Jerome’s arms in a glow of warmth, all thought of her
invidious situation set aside for a while in pursuit of present
happiness. Until, dim in her ears, she heard a rapping out in
limbo, a door handle turning, and a sibilant whisper.

‘Flossie!
Flossie, can you hear me?’

Chapter
Ten

Flinging
herself up in uncontrollable reflex, Florence was barely aware of
how Jerome fell away from her. But the exasperated grunt he emitted
threw her panic into fury.

‘For heaven’s
sake, be quiet,’ she hissed at him, ‘Belinda is at the door!’

The knocking
came again, and her gaze, hazy with the aftermath of passion,
rolled frantically towards the closed door. What in the world was
she to do? She had foolishly allowed herself to be tumbled in such
haste there was not even the privacy of the curtains round the bed
to protect her young sister from the sordid truth. Her glance swept
over the complete disarray of her underclothing, the removal of
which Jerome had given up in preference f pursuing his desire to
its natural end.

His clothes
were equally unkempt. Yet he was leaning up on one elbow now, an
infuriating look of dawning amusement on his face.

Flo hit him.
‘It isn’t funny!’

Jerome caught
at the avenging hand and enfolded it within his own, a quiver of
laughter in the murmur of his voice.

‘Shall I hide
under the bed?’

‘Don’t be
nonsensical!’

Her sister’s
voice came again. ‘Flossie? Flossie, please open the door.’

‘Yes, I heard
you,’ Flo called out.

Driven by
desperate need, she began to slide out at one side of the
four-poster. Pulling her hand from Jerome’s, she thrust to unsteady
feet, and looked wildly about for her dressing robe as she hastily
thrust her under-petticoats down into a semblance of modesty and
straightened her loose stays.

The swish of
curtains brought her eyes round to find Jerome kneeling now, and
drawing the drapes about his side of the bed. He signalled her to
do the same, and Flo followed suit, her heart in her mouth as the
curtain rings rattled loudly into the horrid silence.

Bel could not
fail to have heard. Florence’s mind flew this way and that as she
hunted for an adequate excuse—for the noise, and for her tardiness
in opening the door. A measure of relief overtook her as the
hideous reality of Jerome’s presence disappeared into the cocoon of
curtains. But she had still to be rid of her sister.

Her eye found
the errant dressing robe, hanging on the door. Crossing quickly,
Flo snatched it from the hook, dragged it on over her disarranged
clothing and tied the sash with fingers all thumbs and shaking.
Pausing, she drew a steadying breath and tried for a modicum of
calm to quiet the jumping horror in her breast. Then she unlocked
the door to the corridor, opening it with caution.

Belinda’s
puzzled features appeared. ‘What took you so long? You can’t have
been asleep already.’

‘I was,’
snapped Flo, seizing on the excuse.

‘But you’ve
barely been gone from my room an hour,’ protested her sister.

Was that all it
had been? Flo felt as if she had sustained several hours of
Jerome’s assaults upon her senses. She brushed the thought away,
seeking a reasonable answer. It was not difficult to find.

‘You forget,
Bel. I’ve been out of sorts, and I find myself still tired.’ She
met the girl’s lowering look with what she hoped was a bland
expression, and hastily turned the tables. ‘However, that is by the
by. What is the matter?’

The pout
increased. ‘I couldn’t sleep. I never thought you’d be asleep
already, or I wouldn’t have come.’

‘Why can’t you
sleep?’ asked Flo, ignoring this.

‘I don’t know,’
said Bel unhelpfully. ‘Maybe I ate too much at dinner, or
something, but—’

‘You are not
used to eat so late, and the food was richer than you are used to,
perhaps,’ Flo cut in, a flurry in her voice she was unable to
control.

The
consciousness of Jerome’s presence, of the appalling nature of the
activity in which they had engaged, weighed heavily. She could
think only of the vital need to be rid of Belinda as speedily as
possible.

A little of her
anxiety must have communicated to the girl, for her expression
changed to doubt.

‘Flo, you are
behaving very oddly, I must say. And why did you lock your
door?’

‘Precisely
because I didn’t want to be disturbed.’

‘But you never
do so as a rule.’

‘I am not out
of sorts as a rule. Now will you please go back to bed?’

The pout
reappeared, and clouds descended on Belinda’s brow. ‘But I thought
you’d let me come and sleep in your bed. Oh, pray say I may, Flo. I
truthfully can’t sleep, and—’

Aghast,
Florence cut her off without ceremony.

‘Absolutely
not!’ Her panic-stricken brain provided a convenient excuse. ‘You
will only talk and keep me awake.’

‘I won’t, Flo,
I swear I won’t. Please let me stay with you.’

‘
No
.’
Flo thrust through the door, pushing Bel away at the same time, and
closed it behind her. ‘I will come back to your room with you and
see you into bed.’