Tallie's Knight Part 16

"In Paris?"

Magnus nodded.

"Unless, of course, you find yourself in a delicate condition before

then."

Tallie blushed. She knew now what he meant by 'a delicate condition'. The possibility she might be carrying his child made her heart beat faster. But it also made things even more urgent. She had to get to Italy before she became enceinte.

"I don't want to spend six months in Paris."

Magnus poke red up and looked down his nose, the way he usually did when she questioned his decisions.

"I think you'll find six months is not long enough--or is that what you mean?"

"No, not at all," Tallie said.

"Six months is far too long. If we stay in Paris for such a long time, it will be near winter, and we shan't be able to cross the Alps into Italy until next year."

"Cross the Alps?" His dark brows rose.She nodded vigorously."Yes. I have heard so many tales of crossing the Alps. It sounds monstrous exciting and I am most eager to do it.

And to reach Italy. " Her voice tailed off and she diffidently twirled the wine gla.s.s in front of her.

"My parents' graves are in Italy," she said, not looking at him.

Magnus stared at her for a moment. It was the first time she'd mentioned her parents.

"How old were you when they died?"

"Eleven, almost twelve."

"And how did they die?"

She hesitated for a long moment, toying with the apricot pastry in front of her.

"I am not entirely sure," she said at last.

"I think there was a coach accident."

He frowned.

"You think?"

She nodded, pressed a crumb of sweet pastry onto her finger and

transferred it to her mouth.

"The stories " conflict. The official notification said their coach overturned and both my parents died immediately, but then I received a letter from someone who knew Mama which suggested that Mama died before

Papa. and not from her injuries in the accident. " Tallie licked thegrains of sugar which clung to her fingertips."What do you mean?" Magnus frowned, watching her.She shrugged."I know no more than that. But it is why I wish so much to go to Italy. I would like to see their graves." There was a lot more to it, but she did not wish to explain it to him. Not with him being so cool, and frowning as he was. As he had been since they had left Boulogne. Tallie sighed.

It had been almost a sennight since that momentous night, and he had been so cold and distant and abrupt with her that she could almost believe it had been a dream. Except that her body told her it wasn't.

Despite the initial soreness and stiffness, her body still sang with the memory of how it had felt to have him hold her and caress her and possess her. She knew the difference now between dreams and reality. But he had not shared her bed since. Nor had he so much as touched her, except to help her into the coach and such things, and even then he drew back his hand afterwards, as if she was hot metal. And when he spoke to her it was in such a formal manner he might well have been addressing the House of Lords, she thought despairingly.

She had, indeed, married an Icicle.

Magnus watched the changing expressions flit over her countenance and frowned again. It was not going at all as he had planned. His desire for his wife's body had not been slaked by that one night in Boulogne--it had only whetted his appet.i.te for more. He'd watched her licking the sugar off her small pink fingers and felt more than ever like a rampant green youth.

But it was not to be thought of, he told himself sternly. She'd been an untried innocent and was not yet healed--he could tell by the way she tensed up when he came close to her. He would wait until they reached Paris before he shared her bed again. It was the only decent thing to do.

And besides, he had no intention of allowing himself to fall in thrall to a woman's charms. Down that path lay disaster. He'd seen it before--his father and a dozen others, dancing to a woman's tune, helpless in the face of feminine betrayal. A few sparkling grains of sugar clung to her lips. Magnus refused to notice them.

"We shall reach Paris on the morrow," he announced, rising from the table.

"We shall depart this inn at first light, so you had best retire early. I bid you goodnight, madam." He bowed.

Madam. Tallie rose, a lump in her throat at his cool indifference. In a husky voice she murmured goodnight and left the private parlour.

"Tallie."

She turned on the stairs, a tiny surge of hope rising in her at his voice.

"You will like Paris, I know," said Magnus from the doorway.

"For a start, you will have a great many fine new gowns and hats and so on.

Neither the Terror nor the war has managed to extinguish Paris's reputation for modishness. "

"Oh. Yes," she murmured dully.

"I suppose not."

"Think of it--gowns of silk, satin and lace--day gowns, evening gowns--the finest that money can buy."

She stared down at him in silence.

"And gloves, slippers, French perfume. And b.a.l.l.s and routs and glittering a.s.semblies--you will enjoy it very much," he insisted, frowning.

"Yes, my lord, if you say so." She turned and mounted the stairs to her chamber.

Curse the woman! What was the matter with her? Magnus watched her go, watched the sway of her hips under the dreary gown she wore. She was dressed like the veri est drab and he had promised her the finest gowns money could buy. So why could she not offer him at least a smile? Any one of the mistresses he had kept in the past would have shrieked with delight and flung her arms around his neck at such an offer. She--his wife--had responded with a dutiful murmur of obedience!

d.a.m.n it! He would never understand women! Here he was, allowing himself to be dragged off to foreign parts for her benefit, enduring bad roads, poor accommodation and hard- mouthed horses for her benefit, opening his purse for her benefit and--not least of all--restraining his desires for her benefit!

And was she grateful? Not in the least! Swearing, Magnus took himself off to his cold, empty chamber and his cold, empty bed. He brooded on his wife's unnatural behaviour as he disrobed. He'd wanted a plain, convenient, grateful wife! Hah! He shrugged himself out of his tight coat and tossed it on the bed. She was none of those.

Plain! Even the dowdy gowns she wore hadn't been able to disguise her attractions--not since his so-called wedding night, when he'd put her to bed. He ripped off his cravat and shirt and flung them on a chair.

And as for convenient--why, that was sheer b.l.o.o.d.y fustian! He sat down on the bed. She was putting him to a vast deal of blasted inconvenience, he thought, tugging furiously at his long boots. He'd even had to do without his valet because of her pa.s.sion to go to France--the fool had been too frightened to return to his native country, having escaped Madame Guillotine once already! With some difficulty Magnus managed to drag his boots off. And all the time, he thought, in spite of his own desires and frustrations, he had treated her with unfailing politeness and consideration.

But did she show the slightest bit of grat.i.tude for her husband's generosity and forbearance? No! Not she! Magnus hurled his boots across the room. She had taken herself off to bed without a murmur, completely unmoved by the delights he had offered her! Even now she was disrobing, preparing herself for bed, only too happy to snuggle into bed alone. She would have removed that dull stuff gown, rolled her stockings down over those smooth calves and dainty ankles, discarded her petticoat and chemise and was probably--even now-standing naked, warm and pink and glowing, preparing to don that hideous voluminous monstrosity she called a nightgown!

Well, he would not stand for it! She was his wife. A husband had rights! She had no business making him wait until Paris! He s.n.a.t.c.hed his dressing gown from the end of the bed, threw it on, and in bare feet crossed the hall from his chamber to hers, barely remembering to knock as he flung open her door.

"Oh! Magnus! Is there something wrong?"

"Why is your door not locked?" he snapped, staring at her, outraged.

She was bent over a dish of water, up to her elbows in soap, clad in that dreadful nightgown and an even worse dressing gown. With not an inch of skin to be seen.

"Oh, I must have forgotten it."

"See you do not forget it in future. Anyone could have just walked in." She looked at him for a long moment and a tiny smile appeared on her face."Someone just did.""Who the devil was it?" he thundered, glaring round the room.Tallie giggled and bit her lip."You, my lord."Magnus stared at her for a moment. The tips of his ears turned faintly pink.

"Ah, yes... well... hr mph he said, and strolled around her chamber,

glaring at the neat, untouched bed, her clothes hanging tidily on thehooks behind the door.Tallie resumed her washing. The motion drew his attention."What are you doing?"She blushed."Just rinsing out a few things."He strode over and stared at the basin."What the deuce areCurse the woman! What was the matter with her? Magnus watched her go, watched the sway of her hips under the dreary gown she wore. She was dressed like the veri est drab and he had promised her the finest gowns money could buy. So why could she not offer him at least a smile? Any one of the mistresses he had kept in the past would have shrieked with delight and flung her arms around his neck at such an offer. She--his wife--had responded with a dutiful murmur of obedience!

d.a.m.n it! He would never understand women! Here he was, allowing himself to be dragged off to foreign parts for her benefit, enduring bad roads, poor accommodation and hard- mouthed horses for her benefit, opening his purse for her benefit and--not least of all--restraining his desires for her benefit!

And was she grateful? Not in the least! Swearing, Magnus took himself off to his cold, empty chamber and his cold, empty bed. He brooded on his wife's unnatural behaviour as he disrobed. He'd wanted a plain, convenient, grateful wife! Hah! He shrugged himself out of his tight coat and tossed it on the bed. She was none of those.

Plain! Even the dowdy gowns she wore hadn't been able to disguise her attractions--not since his so-called wedding night, when he'd put her to bed. He ripped off his cravat and shirt and flung them on a chair.

And as for convenient--why, that was sheer b.l.o.o.d.y fustian! He sat down on the bed. She was putting him to a vast deal of blasted inconvenience, he thought, tugging furiously at his long boots. He'd even had to do without his valet because of her pa.s.sion to go to France--the fool had been too frightened to return to his native country, having escaped Madame Guillotine once already! With some difficulty Magnus managed to drag his boots off. And all the time, he thought, in spite of his own desires and frustrations, he had treated her with unfailing politeness and consideration.

But did she show the slightest bit of grat.i.tude for her husband's generosity and forbearance? No! Not she! Magnus hurled his boots across the room. She had taken herself off to bed without a murmur, completely unmoved by the delights he had offered her! Even now she was disrobing, preparing herself for bed, only too happy to snuggle into bed alone. She would have removed that dull stuff gown, rolled her stockings down over those smooth calves and dainty ankles, discarded her petticoat and chemise and was probably--even now-standing naked, warm and pink and glowing, preparing to don that hideous voluminous monstrosity she called a nightgown!

Well, he would not stand for it! She was his wife. A husband had rights! She had no business making him wait until Paris! He s.n.a.t.c.hed his dressing gown from the end of the bed, threw it on, and in bare feet crossed the hall from his chamber to hers, barely remembering to knock as he flung open her door."Oh! Magnus! Is there something wrong?""Why is your door not locked?" he snapped, staring at her, outraged.She was bent over a dish of water, up to her elbows in soap, clad in that dreadful nightgown and an even worse dressing gown. With not an inch of skin to be seen.

"Oh, I must have forgotten it."

"See you do not forget it in future. Anyone could have just walked in."

She looked at him for a long moment and a tiny smile appeared on her face.

"Someone just did."

"Who the devil was it?" he thundered, glaring round the room.

Tallie giggled and bit her lip.

"You, my lord."

Magnus stared at her for a moment. The tips of his ears turned faintly pink.

"Ah, yes... well... hr mph he said, and strolled around her chamber, glaring at the neat, untouched bed, her clothes hanging tidily on the hooks behind the door.

Tallie resumed her washing. The motion drew his attention.

"What are you doing?"

She blushed.

"Just rinsing out a few things."

He strode over and stared at the basin.

"What the deuce are Curse the woman! What was the matter with her? Magnus watched her go, watched the sway of her hips under the dreary gown she wore. She was dressed like the veri est drab and he had promised her the finest gowns money could buy. So why could she not offer him at least a smile? Any one of the mistresses he had kept in the past would have shrieked with delight and flung her arms around his neck at such an offer. She--his wife--had responded with a dutiful murmur of obedience!

d.a.m.n it! He would never understand women! Here he was, allowing himself to be dragged off to foreign parts for her benefit, enduring bad roads, poor accommodation and hard- mouthed horses for her benefit, opening his purse for her benefit and--not least of all--restraining his desires for her benefit!

And was she grateful? Not in the least! Swearing, Magnus took himself off to his cold, empty chamber and his cold, empty bed. He brooded on his wife's unnatural behaviour as he disrobed. He'd wanted a plain, convenient, grateful wife! Hah! He shrugged himself out of his tight coat and tossed it on the bed. She was none of those.

Plain! Even the dowdy gowns she wore hadn't been able to disguise her attractions--not since his so-called wedding night, when he'd put her to bed. He ripped off his cravat and shirt and flung them on a chair.