XX – Beneath the Cover of Darkness
She could not have possibly expressed her feelings the moment her husband ducked beneath the cover of the barouche Sir Percy was skillfully driving, and pulled her into a crushing embrace.
He demanded to know what had been happening during the past hour and if she were all right, and during that brief instance when Yvonne began telling him her amazing story, she suddenly discovered that she was chattering on like a schoolgirl, instead of the woman she should have been.
That was, until he pressed his mouth to hers in a deep, intense kiss.
And when his mouth captured hers, she was suddenly overcome by only one thought: to get as near to her husband as possible. It was surprising, because only two hours ago, she had felt immeasurably weary and desired nothing more than a soft bed and all the time in the world to sleep, and to forget. But now, she was wide-awake and eager.
They had shared many kisses during their three days together, but none quite like this one. In this one, she could taste the worry he had endured as well as the relief that was crashing upon him even now, and behind those things, hunger and desire. She felt all of them too, and she pulled herself into in his lap and cupped the back of his head to kiss him more deeply. It mattered not that his hair was laced with sweat and grime, or that hers was likely the same. It did not bother her that he wore tattered rags and that his shirt was half torn apart, for she was dressed in dirty scraps herself – like a boy, even!
And within seconds, they were grappling with each other, desperate to touch and taste. His hands slid beneath the coarse shirt she wore, skimming up her ribs to brush her breasts. He gasped in surprise when he realized she had discarded her corset, and she wished to God that they were not in a coach, or that his friends were just on the outside of it. She wanted to be in their bedchambers, back in England, feeling him inside of her, thrusting against her damp hips and whispering in her ear, purring for her to shatter around him before he poured himself into her. And with these thoughts, she whimpered and ground herself against him unconsciously, and felt his breath hiss in between his teeth. Heaven help them; he wanted her as much as she wanted him.
But then, quite suddenly, the saltiness of tears touched her tongue, and she drew back in surprise.
For fear that someone other than Percy might overhear, she whispered, "Mon âme?"
His fingers trembled as they caressed her face, almost roughly from emotion. "I thought I had lost you," he said, his voice breaking slightly. "I swear to God, I thought I had lost you!"
Immediately, she pressed her body against his, curling up into his strong chest while her fingertips traveled firmly down his sternum, feeling the muscles quiver deliciously.
"How long before we are in England again?" she whispered.
"It will be several days, I'm afraid." His arms twisted around her almost painfully; she could feel his body quake against hers. "We could not dock on this side of France, due to the shape of the bays and coastlines. The French are on the lookout for any English schooners – especially Percy's. We must travel to Caen, and thence to the other side of Le Havre, where his sailors will be on the lookout for us."
"So far." Her throat felt dry. It would be days before she could make love to Anthony.
"Not to worry, my love. Once we are on board the Daydream, all will be well again."
But even in the darkness, she could see the sadness in his eyes, as though he did not believe his own words. And, not wanting to see her husband looking so distressed, she pressed her mouth to his in a fierce kiss, determined to make him forget what he had lived through. He whimpered again, and she leaned forward and whispered in his ear, barely audible but with a trace of need in her voice, "When we are on board the Daydream, will... Will you make love to me?"
Perhaps it was a brazen, bold request of a woman – even a wife. But the past few days had taught Yvonne that boundaries were meaningless, intangible devices mostly created by men, and she longed for the safety of her husband's arms.
Besides, he did not seem to find it so shocking, for he kissed her again in such desperation, that she thought he might suggest they not wait until they reached the Daydream.
The grinding halt of the barouche suddenly jolted them apart, and Yvonne realized with some embarrassment that only a thin cover separated them from the night and Anthony's comrades. If they weren't careful, they would be caught by his friends, or worse, their enemies. She held her breath, wondering if there were a problem, or if they were simply meeting additional members of the League.
Fortunately, after a couple of seconds' silence, an anxious voice said softly, "Percy!" Then, "Tony, are you in there?"
Percy drawled, "Of course he is, Andrew. Odd's fish, man! Are you implying that I would fail?"
"No! Of course not!"
"Sounded very much indeed as though you were. Insubordination, eh what?"
Another man chuckled, but Sir Andrew Ffloukes was clearly relieved and said emphatically, "As long as Lady Dewhurst is safe –!"
Before Yvonne realized what was happening, her husband leaned out from beneath the cover and said, with irritation, "Honestly, Ffoulkes! Percy hasn't failed; he never does! Now, get on! We haven't got all night, you know!"
The barouche suddenly creaked and groaned as the two additional men climbed aboard, and Percy added, "Lud! No one asked you, Tony. Don't you have other things to do, than tell me and your comrades what we should be doing?"
"Dear God in heaven, don't give him ideas," the second man said cheerfully – and Yvonne finally recognized his voice as that of Lord Hastings.
"Is that any way to talk? My wife is present, you know!" Anthony snapped back, still leaning out of the barouche.
"And after all she's seen and been through the past week, do you think a few rogue members of the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel are going to frighten her with a coarse jest?" Hastings mused.
"Enough," Sir Percy said. His voice was quite calm, commanding, and resolved, and instantly, all three of his men fell silent. "To Caen, then? Glynde and Mackenzie have instructions to find a suitable, deserted place for us to rest halfway there, and will meet us on the main road in twelve hours."
Yvonne closed her eyes and buried her face in Anthony's shoulder, thankful when his arms found their way around her small body again. Not that she minded the jesting and teasing, because it seemed familiar and soothing. But it was going to be a long night and morning, and she would need to rest.