Tallie's Knight Part 17

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 hadrights! She had no business making him wait until Paris! He s.n.a.t.c.hedhis dressing gown from the end of the bed, threw it on, and in barefeet crossed the hall from his chamber to hers, barely remembering toknock 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 you doing that for? There are maids for that sort

of thing. My wife does not wash clothes!""It's nothing, just a few bits and pieces," she said, tryingunsuccessfully to hide them from his sight. They were her underclothes, he realised--he recognised the patches. He had a set just like them in his valise, with the tapes cut.

"I don't care what they are--get the maid to do it."

"But I don't want the maid to see--' She broke off, her cheeks rosy

with embarra.s.sment."See what?" he said, puzzled. A thought occurred to him."You're not ... is it your time of month?"Tallie's face flamed."No!" she gasped, horrified. She had not known men even knew of such things.Magnus indulgently observed her flaming cheeks. His innocent littlewife was easily fl.u.s.tered. He rather enjoyed it, found it surprisingly arousing, though he did not intend she should realise it. Heshrugged."Then what do you not wish the maid to see?"Tallie was infuriated by the cool enquiry."It is nothing to do with you. I will do as I like in my own bedchamber. There is no one to see me--you need not worry about what people will think!"

' You will do as I tell--' "I am your wife, not a slave--' " Exactly! And I will not have my countess washing clothes! " Magnus stared at her, baffled by her intransigence over such a trivial matter. What the devil was wrong with the wench? Most women who'd had a life like hers would lap up the luxury of having unpleasant little tasks done by a servant. Why would she want to wash her own underclothes? And what did she not wish the maids to see? As if the maids had not seen underclothes before--and a d.a.m.ned sight better- The truth suddenly hit him with the force of a blow to the midriff. She was embarra.s.sed. Not because her unmentionables needed washing, but because they were in such appalling condition--patched and darned and ill-fitting. She had pride, his little wife, too much pride to have a maid pity her for her lack of adequate clothing. Again he called down silent curses on his cousin's head for her lack of care for Tallie. He vowed his wife would never again have cause to be embarra.s.sed by her clothing. The moment they arrived in Paris he would procure her the finest garments that money could buy. From the skin out.

He shrugged nonchalantly.

"Very well, then, I will tolerate it this time. But once we reach Paris, mind, you shall leave all tasks of that nature to the servants." He strolled over and sat on the bed.

Tallie stared at him a moment, stunned by his abrupt volte face. Then a fresh thought hit her. He had come to her bedchamber. He was sitting on her bed. In his dressing gown.

He was going to lie with her again.

With shaking hands she hurriedly finished rinsing out her petticoat and chemise, antic.i.p.ation and excitement rising within her. She darted quick little glances at him as she worked. His large, strong hands fiddled with items on the bedside table. Tallie shivered with pleasure, imagining the way those hands would soon move across her skin, knowing her, possessing her.

He wanted her again. The thought thrilled her. Quickly she wrung out the clothes and laid them over the back of a wooden chair, out of his sight, then moved shyly towards the bed.

Blushing, she slipped out of her dressing gown and climbed into the high bed beside him.

"M... Magnus..." she whispered.

He turned towards her, cupped her chin in his hand and gazed deep into her eyes.

"It is not too soon? You do not mind?" His breath caressed her skin.

His voice was low and deep and resonated through her bones like music.

She blushed, shook her head, and raised her face for his kiss.

Tallie lea mt two new things about the marriage act that night. First, that it didn't hurt the second time--not one little bit. And, second, that it was very much more difficult for her to remain still and dignified while her husband's ministrations evoked all sorts of wondrous and thrilling feelings. It took all her will-power, every bit of concentration and determination she possessed, to lie pa.s.sively under him, making no sound or movement, as her cousin had warned her to.

But she managed it.

The very most she allowed herself was to press several soft, moist kisses on his chest and jaw--and that was only after he had fallen asleep. He could not be disgusted by what he did not know she did. And he could not know the intense pleasure she gained from snuggling up to his warm, relaxed, naked body while he slept.

She was very proud of her efforts, too. She wanted so much to be a good wife to Magnus, wanted so much for him to be proud of her, to respect her--even, perhaps, to learn to love her, just a little. He wanted a child, that much she knew. perhaps he would come to care for her if she gave him one.

She lay in the dark, enjoying the feel of her husband's arm draped heavily across her, his chest and torso pressed against her back, one long, hairy leg thrust between hers. Sleepily she wondered whether she was increasing, and, if so, how she would know.

The princess gazed out through her prison bars, straining for a sight, a sound to indicate that someone was coming to rescue her. But all she could see or hear were the happy celebrations of the townspeople far below her. There would be no rescue today for the princess. She would have to remain here, in the highest turret of the Callous Count's castle. But wait, what was that sc.r.a.ping sound? She turned again to the high, barred window. A muscular hand reached out and effortlessly plucked the bars, one, two, three, from the window.

"Tallie, my love," a thrillingly deep masculine voice called. She ran to the window and looked out. There, clinging to a rope, was her handsome outlaw prince, his dark hair blowing in the breeze, his grey eyes glinting. No! Not grey! Blue eyes, perhaps, or brown or green--anything except grey! People with grey eyes were selfish. And disobliging. And horrid!

Tallie sat fuming in a chair by the window of her hotel room, glaring out. Outside were people and noise and activity such as she'd never seen or heard before in her life. She shifted restlessly in her seat and punched a cushion into a more comfortable shape.

Outside was a thrilling concoction of smells and sights and sounds that shrieked Paris! She bounced up and paced angrily around the room.

Outside was a huge, exotic city, and she'd never in her life been in a city. And where was she? Stuck inside a stuffy parlour, that was where, under orders from her stuffy husband not to venture out until he gave her leave! And where was h.e.l.l Outside, that was where! Exploring this wondrously exciting city. For the last four hours! While she was forced to wait.

It wasn't fair. He'd muttered something about preparations to make before she was ready for Paris and gone out into the city himself, needing, apparently, no preparations for his magnificent self! Leaving her with nothing better to do than study Sinderby. A guidebook. When the real thing was just outside her door! She s.n.a.t.c.hed up the cushion and hurled it at the door in frustration.

"Oops! Sorry," she gasped as the object of her fury ducked, regarded her with a raised eyebrow and then closed the door carefully behind him. His face was utterly impa.s.sive and Tallie's spirits sank. He was The Icicle once more. Ignoring the cushion at his feet, Magnus came forward and presented her with a large brown paper parcel, tied with string.

"A modiste will be here within the hour to fit you out with some decent clothes. You will need to don these before she arrives." He strolled over to the window, glanced out into the street, then opened up a news sheet and began reading it, quite as if he had nothing more to say to her.

Tallie, clutching the parcel to her bosom, stared at him, suddenly confused. Part of her wanted to rail at him for leaving her for such a long time with nothing to do, but the large, squashy parcel in her arms intrigued her. A gift? She could not remember the last time anyone had given her a gift. Only her wedding pearls. And now, a gift for no reason. With trembling fingers she unknotted the string and spread open the wrapping. Soft, silken things dripped from her fingers and slithered to the floor.

"Ohhh," she gasped, enchanted. She bent and lifted them. A chemise--no, six, in soft, silky material. And petticoats, in fine lawn and muslin, trimmed with lace. Silk stockings, dozens of them--silk} And six finely embroidered nightgowns, so thin and fine and delicate you could almost see through them. She had never seen the like, except once, on a friend of her cousin's. And. good gracious!

She picked the last few items up and frowned in confusion. These were surely not for her. But they, too, were made of the finest, most delicate lawn. pink lawn. Tallie fingered the garments, stunned.

They could not possibly be for her husband, for they had lace on them, and besides, they were too small for him. But she had never worn such things. never heard of such things, except in a scandalised whisper.

Not even Laet.i.tia wore garments like these.

"I cannot wear these," she whispered.

Magnus did not turn his head.

"Of course you can. You will oblige me by retiring to your chamber and donning them immediately, madam. The modiste is coming."

Madam. Tallie gathered up the clothing and left the room, feeling mutinous. The first true gift she had received in years and was she allowed to be excited about it? No, she must be silent and obedient and don them 'immediately, madam," for we would not wish to inconvenience an unknown French modiste, would we? Madam.

In her chamber, she stripped off her clothes and quickly slipped into one of the new chemises and a petticoat, savouring the cool, silken feel of them against her skin. The chemise was close-fitting, with gussets under the arms and side gussets to accommodate the flare of her hips. The neckline was extremely low and edged with a tiny frill of lace. The petticoat was long and straight, made of fine, sheer muslin. It was almost like wearing nothing at all. She felt very daring and sophisticated.

She glanced at the other garments on the bed. Drawers! For a woman!

Pink ones, with fine French lace around each knee. She had never seen anything so scandalous in her life. Drawers were male attire. For a female to wear them would be truly shocking. Miss Fisher would have fainted at the very notion. Tallie picked up the drawers and held them against her. She ought not to. but her husband had instructed her to wear them.

Quickly she bent, and with some difficulty she pulled on the drawers.

They felt very peculiar. She had never felt her bottom and legs so enclosed, so restricted. It was indeed very shocking. Tallie rather liked the feeling.

But however would she manage when she had to. She pulled the drawers away from her body and peered down inside them. Good heavens!

There was a slit. How very shocking! But practical, she supposed.

A knock on the door made her dart behind the screen in a panic.

"Qui est-ce-que?"

The door opened. It was her husband.

"I came to see whether the... er... things fitted."

Tallie, blushing, nodded from behind the safety of her screen.

"Yes, thank you. They do."

"Well, let me see them," he said a little impatiently.

Blushing furiously, Tallie took a deep breath and stepped out from behind the screen.

Magnus's eyes narrowed as he took in the picture of his bride dressed in nothing but fine undergarments. His mouth dried as he noted the way the fine silk of the chemise did nothing to hide the creamy swell of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s or the faint dark pink of her small thrusting nipples. He dropped his gaze to her hips and frowned in surprise, as he saw what appeared to be pink drawers under her petticoat.

He had not actually selected the garments himself, had simply given the manageress of the establishment an order for the finest, most fashionable underclothes Paris could provide. So the drawers were a shock. He had heard that some women were wearing them, not just women of the demimondaine-ladies, too, but these were the first he had seen.

"Take off your petticoat," he said in a deep, husky voice. Tallie undid the tapes, took a deep breath, closed her eyes and dropped the petticoat. It pooled in a whisper around her feet.

Magnus felt all the breath leave his body at the sight of his wife dressed in intimate male attire. A feminised version of male attire, to be sure, but. no male had ever looked like that. He had never seen anything so erotic in his life. The drawers were gathered at her knees and he wondered how far he could run his hands up inside them.

The delicate material hugged her thighs and her skin glowed beneath the fine weave. The drawers bunched slightly at the apex of her thighs over a shadowy, unmistakably feminine vee shape, and then pulled tighter against the slight swell of her stomach.

"Turn around," he said huskily. Slowly she turned, her eyes still clenched shut. Magnus stared. The drawers hugged her rounded bottom and hips and suddenly he longed to see her bending over.

"You have dropped your new petticoat on the floor," he said hoa.r.s.ely, and she bent to gather it up. The material pulled tight across her bottom and Magnus could stand no more. He embraced her from behind, running caressing hands up over her body, cupping her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, moulding them, seeking out the hardening nipples.