Barbara Taylor Bradford – The Ravenscar Dynasty (страница 15)
He had pulled away from her gently, staring into her face, an amused look on his, and he had laughed. ‘Oh, Mrs Overton,
‘Only if you stop calling me Mrs Overton and call me Lily instead, Edward,’ she had answered with a light laugh.
‘And you must call
Together they had climbed the stairs and she had not been at all self-conscious; she had led him into her bedroom, then had suddenly turned her head and given him a most cryptic look.
His response had been to immediately take her in his arms, press her close to his body, his hand sliding down onto her buttocks. She had felt so small, feminine and defenceless because he was so tall, broad and masculine, the most masculine man she had ever met.
When he had pressed her even closer, moulding her to him, she had felt his erection against her body, and she had begun to tremble.
As if he understood her instant trepidation he had not made another move, had simply stood perfectly still, looking down at her, his expression suddenly loving. Very slowly, he had begun to remove her clothes, untying the ribbon belt around her waist, letting it drop to the floor, unfastening the rest of the buttons on the front of her dress. Slipping it over her shoulders, it had fallen to the floor, a pool of pale green lace at her feet. A moment after he had started to loosen her undergarments, he stopped and led her over to the bed. Without a word, he had taken off everything else until she was completely naked.
It was only then that he had spoken, saying in an awed voice, ‘Oh, Lily, Lily, you are very, very beautiful.’
She had remained silent, simply staring up at him through eyes filled with longing for him, desire written all over her face.
Everything had gone very swiftly after that. He had risen, shed his own clothes quickly, stretched out next to her on the bed. Pushing himself up on one elbow, he had leaned over her, kissed her deeply, passionately, his tongue sliding into her mouth for a moment of true intimacy. All of his movements were slow, gentle, tender, and soon one hand roamed over her, stroking and caressing every part of her until she cried out in pleasure.
Soon after this he had taken her hand and placed it on his groin, and she had been startled by the size of him. But when he entered her he had done so with immense gentleness, and she had found herself opening up to him, thrilled by his virility, knowledge and experience. Their coupling had been rapturous, ecstatic, as they had both known it would be from their first moment of meeting.
Edward had stayed with her for the rest of the day and into the early evening. She had made supper for him, and he had stayed on and on, in the end not taking his leave of her until the early hours of the morning. He had been insatiable and so had she, and she had realized that night that he was the best lover she had known.
And so had begun the most extraordinary relationship Lily had had with any man, one that over the months had given her unusual happiness.
Ned saw her whenever he came up to London, and occasionally, giving in to his pleading, she visited him in Oxford. With the passing of time she had grown to love him, whilst understanding that the gap in their ages was far too enormous to bridge. Nonetheless, she resolved to remain his mistress for as long as he wanted and needed her.
There was very little she did not know about him, and she understood him completely. He was a highly-sexed, sensual and extremely romantic man; she found him mature for his age and extremely intelligent; he had a brilliant, analytical mind that would sometimes stun her. These attributes aside, his looks were heart-stopping, and yet there was no personal vanity in him about his appearance, and he was kind, compassionate. Perhaps the most unique thing about Ned was his charisma. He possessed a special kind of natural charm that was so captivating it ensnared everyone. This characteristic, plus his amiability and friendliness, immediately put people at ease. All gravitated to him, wanted to be part of his circle.
Yet Lily was very much aware that behind that charming, polished façade there was a wholly different kind of man, one of dogged determination, who harboured great ambition, was full of resourcefulness and had a will of iron that was formidable. Very quickly in their relationship she had come to accept that he could also be absolutely ruthless when he deemed it necessary.
Few people recognized any of these characteristics, because they took him at face value, and also because he did not permit them to know him intimately. Inevitably they underestimated him, much to her amusement and frequent irritation. They tended to characterize him as lazy, indolent and a pretty boy, and therefore dismissed him as a man of no consequence. How wrong they were.
Lily rose from the chair when she heard the front door bang, and her ponderings about Ned and their first meeting were pushed to one side. He was on the staircase, coming back to her, and her look was questioning as he entered the small sitting room. ‘Was the cabbie willing to wait?’
‘For as long as I wish,’ he answered, giving her a faint smile. Striding over to the fireplace he seated himself on the sofa and stretched out his long legs.
‘Do you want me to give you a shoulder massage?’ she began, and instantly stopped as she saw him shaking his head.
‘I just wish to sit here with you, Lily, for a while, and relax, if I can. I’m so filled with grief I feel that anything I did which gave me an ounce of pleasure tonight would be completely wrong.’
Looking across at him, Lily merely inclined her head. A silence fell between them, but it was a compatible silence, and for a while the only sounds were the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner and the crackling of the logs on the fire.
Eventually, Lily ventured, ‘I felt the same way as you do now when my first husband died…that I shouldn’t enjoy anything, that it was somehow disrespectful. But that’s not the case, you know. And having a woman love you, and loving a woman in return, is actually a wonderful affirmation of life.’ When he made no response, Lily pushed herself to her feet and went to sit next to him on the sofa.
Resting one hand on his leg, she said with great care, ‘Do you think that making love to me when you are in mourning would be unseemly? Or something like that, Ned?’
‘I suppose so…’ He left his sentence unfinished, leaned back against the sofa and stared at her, his expression both worried and perplexed.
‘I fully understand, and as I said, I have been where you are at this moment in time, so full of sorrow,’ Lily murmured. ‘It’s sorrow mixed with anger, and a sense of helplessness. It’s only natural to feel like that, and perhaps worse for you, because you have lost your closest and dearest family.’
He took her hand in his, held it tightly. ‘Yes,’ he murmured, ‘you’re correct.’
‘I learned long ago that it is important to put death to one side, and get on with
He ran his hand through his red-gold hair and sighed heavily. ‘You’re wise, Lily, and I agree with you on an
But he was. And he did. With Lily’s loving help. Life
‘I don’t think there is anything untoward about my coming with you to Deravenels this morning, Ned,’ Neville Watkins said, walking across to the fireplace as he spoke, standing with his back to it. ‘I consider it quite normal that I accompany you. After all, my father and brother were killed along with yours in Carrara.’
‘Oh, I totally agree with you,’ Edward was swift to answer, staring at his cousin, perplexed, and then continuing, ‘And it was
‘Not at all. I was just running everything through my mind. Normally, some pernickety member of the staff might wonder out loud about a cousin who has nothing to do with the company arriving on their doorstep with you, that’s all. It was always my understanding that several of Henry Grant’s employees were a trifle touchy about your father’s relatives.’
Edward chuckled. ‘Correct, they were, and most especially the French whore, as Father used to call her. She was the most vociferous.’
Neville raised a brow, giving Edward a swift look. ‘The French whore,’ he repeated, and suddenly began to laugh. ‘I remember now, your father did occasionally mutter something or other about the true paternity of her son Edouard. I do believe he wondered aloud about the ability of Henry to perform—well, that was the way he put it.’