Thea Devine - Captivated

And when he teasingly whispered, "Thereis a Cupid," she gazed up at him in wonder.

"You're feeling this too?"

His faint smile was close and hers, she thought with sudden revelation. "It's sorcery," he murmured.

"Pagan witchcraft," she agreed, reaching up to touch the curve of his mouth. "But don't break the spell."

"Never," he breathed, moving inside her, gliding against her slick, silken tissue, withdrawing just enough to make the resultant penetration more exquisite. The slow rhythm of his thrust and withdrawal overwhelmed their senses, the universe centered in their conjoined bodies, lust, wanton feeling, affectiona new, tremulous love singing in their blood.

Perhaps the planets were all perfectly aligned or sorcery indeed had taken a hand. Or maybe biology alone was the potent force. But they both understood the unprecedented wonder of the occasion.

"This baby is mine," he breathed, his orgasm beginning to rush downward.

"Ours," she whispered, clinging to him.

"Ours," he said, his eyes closing against the intensity of feeling inundating his body. And as the marquis poured into her, she met his heated climax, opened her heart and body to the awesome mystery and welcomed him with love.

Moments later, prostrate on the silken chaise, they lay panting, heated, touched by a rare sense of closeness.

"Now what are we going to do?" the marquis murmured, post coital unease reassessing such injudicious feeling.

"I thought we might cool off in the pool if you'd help me take off these yards of serge."

His sigh of relief was audible. "You're damned adorable," he murmured, his smile dazzling.

"While you have a very winning charm, my lord," she lightly returned, extricating them both from the Byzantine trap of too ardent feeling. "Are you as… resourceful in the water?"

"Let me know, Princess," he said with a teasing grin, rolling to his feet. Lifting her from the chaise, he carried her to the pool, stripped away her clothing with a deft expertise, eased them both into the cool water, and said, "Now I'll see if I can keep you warm."

He did.

With great skill.

And it wasn't until Gregory banged loudly on the door hours later that they noticed the day had vanished with the setting sun.

Twilight shadow filled the grotto with a suffused lavender ambiance, creeping darkness settling in the remoter corners of the chamber. "Do you want to stay or go?" he softly asked, kissing her gently as she lay on the mossy bank.

"You decide…" she whispered, blissful lethargy pervading her senses.

"Ten minutes!" Hugh shouted, but they found themselves reluctant to leave the enchanting grotto, and it was nearly an hour before they appeared outside in the falling dusk. He carried the princess cradled in his arms, her eyes shut like a drowsy child.

"She's tired," the marquis laconically announced, his gaze sweeping the mounted troop in mute challenge. "And we don't need company," he brusquely added, his glance settling on Gregory. "Two hundred yards," he reminded him.

On the ride back, the evening dusk seemed to enfold them in a gossamer warmth, the air velvet on their skin, the quiet of the night like the contentment of their souls, and when he whispered, "Thank you" in a husky murmur, she smiled up at him and softly breathed, "You bring me joy…"

It pleased him that he could bring her joy and he realized with a small exalting gladness that he adored her. And more, he knew, for love had crept in past the boundaries of his selfishness and avoidance in the hours past, or perhaps only the revelation. "Do you believe in fate?" he softly queried.

"Only if it's good." She didn't want to risk the bliss enfolding her. She wanted only agreeable speculations.

"Do you believe in love?"

She hesitated because before today, she hadn't and too, the marquis was hardly the kind of man susceptible to declarations of love. "Why do you ask?"

"So cautious," he said with a faint smile.

"I live my life with caution."

"Then I'll say it first. I love you, darling Sofia."

"Are you drunk, Crewe?" Playful and teasing, she couldn't afford for him to love her or she him.

"It wouldn't matter if I were. I love you drunk or sober, in the dark of night or in the morning light. I love you," he murmured, jubilation in the rich depth of his voice. "And you must love me back."

"I can't."

"But you do." He knewperhaps that knowledge had prompted his own gratifying realization. His dark gaze held hers in the gathering dusk. "You do."

Only the sound of frogs and crickets disturbed the silent evening for a lengthy interval.

"I do," she whispered, her eyes wet with tears.

They stayed together that night in the princess's room, making love in endless, leisured variety, both of them drowsy and oddly awakeelated, as though their minds were contending with their tumultuous feelings of love in alternate and parallel planes. And they made plans or Hugh made plans for their life together.

She awoke first at dawn's light and lay in blissful quiescence, understanding true happiness for the first time, her gaze traveling over the finely modeled features of the man who'd made her believe in love during the long hours past. He breathed quietly like a young child, his chest barely moving, his long lashes like black shadows on his cheeks, the curve of his mouth both sensual and tender like his kisses, his bronzed body half uncovered, as if he'd been too warm during the night.That arm held me, she thought, her gaze trailing down the tanned, muscled length,and those fingers touched me, the smallest quiver of excitement warming her senses at the memory of his skilled touch. And his long, powerful legs had twined around hers or served as firm support when she sat or lay on him. Her gaze traveled down the flawless perfection of his lean, rangy form and then back again to come to rest on his face. She liked his smile best, she reflected. When he smiled, he seemed to offer her boundless joy.

She'd miss that most.

For a few moments more, she memorized the sight of the man who had appropriated her heart and then she cautiously left the bed. She stood for a short interval more, wanting to remember every detail and minutiae, wanting to be able to bring the image of him into her mind with perfect clarity a thousand years from now.

But the clock in the hall softly chimed the hour, drawing her attention, and, with time so critical, she went to find Gregory.

"He wants me to leave with him tonight or tomorrow," she said, seated across from her troop captain in the downstairs steward's office.

"And will you?"

"If I could persuade him to wait two days, could you telegraph Milosh and have him set the schedule ahead?"

"Everyone's been ready for six months, Your Highness. Only your scruples have curtailed our plans."

"And my mother? Can you guarantee me her safety?"

"Like I have a thousand times before. Katerina will take her out through the tunnel and back to Hungary. It won't be a problem."

"I should go myself and see her out."

"And risk your husband's insanity? I'll personally see that you don't." He leaned back in his chair and shut his eyes for a moment. "Forgive me. My words were uncalled for."

She twisted the brocaded ties of her robe, ran the silken fabric through her fingers, her agitation pronounced. "We're taking an enormous chance with everyone's lives."

"It's necessary. Everyone knows it. Everyone's known it for a long time. Leave it all to me. Stay with the marquis for a fortnight, a month if you like. By that time, all will be resolved and you can come home in triumph."

"I'm allowed this small bit of happiness?"

"You deserve more, and if it were in my power, I'd give you the world, you know that." His heart was in his eyes, but he spoke with a brusque authority.

"I know, Gregory. Thank you," she softly said, understanding how he felt about her. He was her rock and guardian, her protector. "Two days then before we ostensibly escape?"

"I'll see that Pierce has access to the stables two nights from now. I'll send a telegram once all is in place for your return."

"My return," she softly murmured.

"You'll rule with or without an heir. The stipulation requiring a child is in effect only so long as your husband remains on the throne."

She nodded and rose from her chair. "Godspeed," she murmured, "in this treacherous game of state."

They fled the estate two nights later, Pierce having smuggled three mounts out of the stables. By morning they were halfway to London, and after stopping briefly at Dalsany House for fresh horses, clothes, and a quick luncheon, they continued north to the marquis's estate at Woodhill. It was dark by the time they arrived, but within minutes lights were blazing from every window, the entire staff bustling to see that the master and his guest were made comfortable.

The princess was introduced to Hugh's majordomo, his housekeeper, steward, and, at the last, his chaplain, John Wright, who said with a smile, "Hugh and I have been friends since boyhood. He's very generous with his tenants and the parish." By omission, the princess understood, the chaplain overlooked the less righteous qualities of his patron. And after a variety of orders had been transmitted by the marquis to his staff, he and the princess retired to his chambers.

"So this is where you were going to rusticate when I took you away," she said, gazing out on the moonlight lawns.

"This is wherewe're going to rusticate," he corrected, coming up behind her and enclosing her in his arms. "Just past those hills is the village. I'll take you there tomorrow and show you off."

"And no one will wonder who I am?"

"Let them wonder. A Princess Sofia is sharing my life. What else do they have to know. And if I love you, they will, too. Life is very simple here," he went on, filled with a rare contentment, the warmth of her body against his sufficient to make him believe in paradise.

"A simple life sounds very nice," she softly said, covering his hands with hers.

"We'll raise our child here. Our children. And if this is insanity," he said, a smile in his voice, "don't wake me up." "Nor me," she murmured, tears welling in her eyes.

The days passed in such joyful pleasure, the marquis and princess found themselves feeling pity for the rest of the world. They spent every minute together in a kind of harmony poets portrayed in lyrical stanzas and sonnets and those less poetical condemned as fantasy. They lay abed some days and made endless love; on others, they rose at dawn and rode or walked the estate, the gardens, the village lanes. Everywhere they went, people turned to watch them, such happiness startling, awesome, as if bliss and exaltation had taken corporeal form.

And when, after a fortnight, the princess noticed her courses hadn't come and shyly told the marquis, he decided to call the entire household and village to a celebration feast. "I won't embarrass you," he said, grinning from ear to ear. "We'll call it some summer harvest festival or the name day of some saint; we'll think of something." But many a watchful eye that day and evening when the parish ate and drank and danced on the marquis's front lawn took note of the marquis's tender attention to his princess and a countdown of days began.

"He'll have to marry her now," the housekeeper stoutly said, tipsy after several glasses of the marquis's best wine, "or his heir won't come into the title right and tight."

"Can't if'n she's married already," the head groom noted, casting a cool gaze at the housekeeper.

"He'll have to buy her a divorce then," the majordomo solemnly maintained, his hauteur still intact despite numerous glasses of the aqua vitae he favored. "The House of Lords does it all for a tidy sum."

"Which himself can afford. Did you see the new diamonds he gave to the princess? She wore them to dinner last night."

"And also while swimming in the pool in the white garden this morning, I hear," the groom roguishly pronounced.

"You tell those nasty stable lads to mind their own business or I'll box their ears," the housekeeper hotly returned. "I declare, there's not a speck of manners between the lot of them."

And as the evening progressed, bets were made and taken on the arrival date of the marquis's new heir.

While the master and his guest enjoyed the festivities in their own private way.

At ten, they excused themselves to a roar of ribald cheers and comment and retired to a small guest cottage beyond the noise of the festivities on the manor lawn.