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DESIREE
by Roberta Gellis
Harlequin Signature Select
February 2005
ISBN 0-373-83641-4
$6.50
Desiree married a man old enough to be her grandfather–-in fact he was her grandfather’s friend–-to save herself from a cruel and ruthless suitor. To her surprise, although she had to give up her dreams of passion, she found great happiness in her platonic marriage. Sir Frewyn was gentle and taught her self-esteem and how to manage her lands. But then Frewyn had a stroke, France was gathering forces to make war, and her seacoast lands were in the direct path of the invasion. Desiree had to appeal to Sir Simon Lemagne, the sheriff of Sussex, for help, and Sir Simon sent his own sister’s-son, Alexandre Baudoin, who was all that Desiree had dreamed of when she had dreams of passion.
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- A HELPLESS HEIRESS
- Desiree’s father hated the sight of her and locked her away in the women’s quarters. When her father died suddenly, Desiree was a ripe plum to be picked by the cruelest and most ruthless man in the shire, Sir Nicolaus of Lewes. Desiree appealed for help to the only man she knew, but all Sir Frewyn could do to protect her from Nicolaus was to marry her himself–-only Frewyn was her grandfather’s age.
- A GOOD OLD MAN
- Sir Frewyn thought of Desiree as the daughter he had lost in infancy, but Frewyn was no fool. He knew he could not live many years, and so he taught Desiree how to manage her lands, how to read and write, and to whom she could appeal for help. Only Frewyn did not die. He was struck down to linger as a helpless hulk at a time when Exceat needed a strong, young defender.
- THE STRONG, YOUNG DEFENDER
- Alexandre Baudoin was the last and least of the five sons born in Lessai. All his mother could give him was a letter to an unknown uncle in England. Simon Lemagne and his new wife Lady Alinor of Roselynde welcomed Alex warmly and Simon set about teaching Alex what his father had neglected. By the time invasion from France threatened, Alex had been knighted and proved himself clever and valiant. When a helpless heiress appealed for support because her husband was dying, Lady Alinor immediately thought that Alex might find himself a rich wife.
Excerpt from DESIREE
Completely exasperated–-more with herself than with her women because she understood very well that it was her own neglect that had made them disobedient and demoralized–-Desiree went back into her chamber. She needed to talk the whole mess over with Frewyn, but knew that was impossible. But she had to talk to someone ... Before Frewyn said he wanted to die, she had been talking her small problems over with Alex. And then she remembered that Alex seemed very eager to tell her something. He had tried to tell Frewyn too. He had come to Frewyn’s chamber several times and been turned away.
"Oh," Desiree said. "Oh. My letter was from Lady Alinor. Alex must have got a letter from Sir Simon. Oh. Perhaps it is very important. Perhaps there is some danger."
She went out, passing several women who were gathering up the rushes soiled by the shower of urine and several others who were carrying buckets of water to scrub the floor. That reminded her to stop and examine her gown to see if it had been spattered, but it seemed clean. There was a small wine stain from when she had mixed Frewyn’s medicine a little too strongly, but that was not worth changing the gown when the news Alex had might be urgent.
He was not in the hall. Briefly Desiree uttered a small prayer of thanks because Vachel was not there either. She glanced around at the servants, and her gaze fell on Farman, who was gently polishing Frewyn’s silver flagon, as he did each day.
"Is Sir Alex out with the men?" she asked, ready to tell him to send a manservant to fetch Alex to her.
"Not yet, m'lady." Farman set the flagon aside on the bench and came up to her. "Still in his room. Real worried, m'lord is. Trying all day to see Sir Frewyn."
"Oh dear," Desiree said. "It must be something in the letter he received from Sir Simon."
Consumed by anxiety, she left Farman standing there, hurried across the hall, and stepped into Alex's chamber. She hardly noticed that she had to open the door, but the fact that she had opened it made her close it behind her. And then she stopped, frozen.
She had caught Alex about to change his clothing from the gown he wore to dinner into the gambeson he wore when working with the men. His gown, carefully folded, lay atop his chest. Beside it was his good shirt, which he would not want to be stained with sweat. The gambeson lay next to him on the cot on which he had been sitting, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. He wore only chausses and braies. The braies were worn threadbare and the chausses had a hole in the knee.
The sound of the closing door brought Alex to his feet, but the image Desiree had received before he moved was vivid and perfect in every detail. She could still see the way his hair curled over his ear and the way his fingers flexed as he tugged at it. His skin, where it was not touched often by the sun, was very pale, marked in a few places with the knotted pink of a healed scar.
"What?" he snarled, and then his eyes widened as he saw who had intruded upon him. "P-pardon, m-my lady," he stammered. "P-pardon."
He snatched up the gambeson and held it before him, as he flushed a painful, dull red. The image was so much that of a modest maiden shrinking from the gaze of a ravisher that Desiree burst out laughing.
"I am the one who should beg pardon for bursting in on you without warning," she said when she had swallowed the final giggles. "But really, Alex, I have seen men without a shirt before, and much less well covered than you are. You can put the gambeson down. I am not in the least offended."
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out and he clutched the gambeson as if it were his last hope of salvation.
"Put it down, Alex," Desiree said. "You look silly. And those braies are a disgrace, and your chausses need mending. Why in the world did you not tell me you had not enough clothing."
"It was not Lady Alinor's fault," Alex said defensively. "Sir Simon and I left so suddenly, she had no time to order more clothing for me."
Desiree shook her head. "Believe me, I do not fault Lady Alinor for anything, but you cannot continue to do without clothing."
Her voice caught a little on the words of not faulting Lady Alinor as memory flashed a hope/fear for Frewyn, but that had nothing to do with Alex's clothing. Her glance flicked to the dull brown gown folded so carefully, and she guessed that it was one of the many gowns Roselynde kept for guests, lent, and then given to Alex. He was so tall and so broad, there would not have been much choice in what would fit him. Her gaze came back to him, touched the strong shoulders, lifted with some reluctance to his face.
The color was more natural and his desperate grip on the gambeson had relaxed. "I did not know what was due me or when. I have been at Exceat for so short a time. I did not think it worth while to trouble Sir Frewyn ..."
"Sometimes you are quite bird-witted, Alex," Desiree said. "It has nothing to do with Frewyn. I am the Lady of Exceat. You are due a full suit of clothes, like anyone else, after a year's service, but that hardly matters." Her lips twitched. "It is vastly improper for the castellan of Exceat to have holes in his chausses. I will send Maud down to take your measure. What do you need?"
Alex shrugged. Desiree's flat practicality and open amusement had removed most of his embarrassment."Everything. I came from Lessai with nothing but the clothing on my back and that was already worn and the worst Lessai had. Lady Alinor gave me what she could from the guesting chests, but I am ... big. And Sir Simon and I rode out almost at once to push back a Welsh incursion, and for my knighting, so there was no time to make clothes specially for me. But surely you did not come to ask about my overworn braies."
Desiree was tempted to laugh again, but she suddenly remembered why she had come and her hand came up to press knuckles against her lips. "The letter from Sir Simon. I realized that you had been trying to talk to Frewyn all day. I thought it might be something important and dangerous."
Alex was silent for a moment, but his hands tensed on the gambeson. "No, there is no bad news from Sir Simon but ... but I felt I needed Sir Frewyn's approval for something Sir Simon suggested." Then he paused and whispered, "Is Sir Frewyn worse?"
Insensibly as they spoke Desiree had come closer, step by step. The chamber, like all wall chambers, was very small. Now she shook her head nervously and began to tell Alex about Lady Alinor's letter and the medicine. Without realizing what she was doing, she put out a hand, reaching for support, for comfort.
"Frewyn insisted on taking the medicine, and Father Harold said it would not be a mortal sin. Lady Alinor had not said surely that to take it would shorten life. But Alex–-" she clutched the hand in which he had taken hers "–-I am sure that is his hope ... that he will die."
She bowed her head against his chest. Alex had dropped the gambeson on the cot and he pulled her against him with his free arm, lifting the hand he held and pressing it to his lips.
Actually Alex had forgotten Frewyn. He had forgotten Exceat and his position. He had forgotten everything except the soft, warm, sweet-scented body he held against his own. He released her hand and embraced her fully with both arms. She lifted her face to his; if there had been tears in her eyes as there had been in her voice, they were gone now. What he saw in her face wrenched a soft groan from him, and he dropped his head and covered her mouth with his.
The kiss was gentle at first, tentative ... comforting. Desiree knew that the smallest movement of rejection, an attempt to turn her head or to push away would have made him release her. She was so aware that she could break free that she was afraid to move, afraid to breathe. At first she was statue-still, frozen, but his arms began to loosen and by instinct, without thought, she was pressing forward against him, lifting her head higher, her lips parting.
His mouth grew harder, his tongue probed, touching her lips, her tongue, withdrawing so that her tongue followed his. She could feel her breasts pressed against his chest and her nipples were so hard and swollen that they ached. Although her gown and shift kept her from feeling his flesh against hers, she was as aware of it as if she were naked. Her hands stroked his bare back, and his worn braes were little barrier to the protrusion digging into her belly.
That was not where she wanted it. Not only her breasts ached. There was a hollow, empty feeling between her legs, a warm swollen moistness that was ready to enfold the straining shaft. Desiree pressed upward on tiptoe, seeking to move the pressure from her belly to fill that emptiness. The effort of standing on her toes could not long be sustained, and Desiree slid down against Alex's body. That did not help. Half sobbing she rose on her toes again, and again slid down.
Alex groaned. Half mad with need, with her tongue stroking his, mimicking the act of lovemaking, Alex slid his hands down Desiree's body and cupped her buttocks. Crushing her against him, he lifted her up, up until her belly curved away from his body and his shaft slipped into the hollow made by the parting of her legs. It was an utterly false, momentary comfort. Clothing blocked the passage.
But Desiree did not know that. She did not know anything except that the tool she desired was moving in the right direction. Without volition, quite unaware of what she was doing, Desiree tried to spread her legs and catch what she wanted between them. The movement, blocked by her skirt and shift, could not go far, but it went far enough to bend Desiree's knees. Her full weight rested unexpectedly on Alex's hands.
Alex was more than strong enough to support Desiree, but his grip on her buttocks was not designed for that purpose. Her body slipped through his fingers and slid down, her bent knees lowering her still more. Their mouths parted. Desiree caught at his shoulders to support herself, but the motion pressed the heels of her hands against him and pushed them slightly apart.
The door clicked. Neither heard. Desiree's head was still lifted toward Alex, his bent toward her.
"Alex, if ... Oh!"
Alex and Desiree sprang apart when Father Harold spoke. Alex was instantly crimson, but Desiree showed no sign of guilt, only of anxiety. Indeed, the pang of terror–-not for being discovered, but for the well-doing of her husband–-precluded guilt.
"Is Frewyn all right?" she cried.
Father Harold blinked. "Yes," he said, somewhat bemused by Desiree's indifference to her compromising situation. "In fact, I came to tell Alex that Frewyn will see him now if he still needs to speak to him."
"Yes," Alex got out, sounding as if he were strangling.
He pulled on the gambeson and rushed out, leaving Desiree and Father Harold staring after him.
"Oh," Desiree said, "perhaps you should stop him. He will tell Frewyn what we did."
But the priest did not hurry after Alex. He did not think that Frewyn would be upset over Alex's confession. Father Harold at present was more concerned with the state of Alex's and Desiree's souls. However much Desiree and Frewyn felt like father and daughter in their hearts, both had taken vows of marriage, and Desiree could not violate hers without mortal sin.
"Will he?" Father Harold asked. "Only because I caught you this time?"
"This time!" Desiree echoed. "There has never been another time!" Now her cheeks bloomed red. "Oh, poor Alex. He has always been so careful, not even taking my hand, and of course, that is right. I never offered my hand. This–-what happened was an accident. We did not ... it was not by intention."
"You were not here in Alex's chamber alone with him by intention?"
"Not by intention to ... to be embraced."
"Then why did you come here?"
"To ask whether Alex had a letter from Sir Simon and whether it contained bad news. I thought he must have had a letter because Lady Alinor's letter to me did not mention Nicolaus' treachery and because Alex kept trying to speak to Frewyn."
"And you could not speak about Sir Simon's letter at arms' length?" the priest asked severely.
Desiree's blush had diminished. Now she felt her cheeks hot again. "We never did speak about Sir Simon's letter," she admitted. "Alex asked if Frewyn was worse, and I told him about the medicine Lady Alinor sent." Tears rose in her eyes. "And I began to think about losing Frewyn, and I was so sad ... Oh, Father, I do not know how it came about but I was suddenly in his arms and ... and we kissed."
"And it was the first time? Do you swear it?"
"I gave him the kiss of peace when I accepted him as castellan," she said doubtfully. "But aside from that, yes, this is the first time Alex and I ..."
Her hands were trembling and she clasped them hard. In a flash she felt again the heat of Alex's mouth against hers, the strength of his arms around her, the feel of his bare skin under her hands, the tingling in her breasts, the warmth between her thighs.
"And it will be the last time." Father Harold's voice was sharp and hard.
Desiree's gaze met his and she could feel the flush of guilt for her unbridled desire in her whole body. "Yes, Father," she said, bowing her head.
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