Winter Wonderland [27/12, noon]- Xmas 1677

[Charles Audley]

"I've heard that too," Charles said lightly, eye dancing. "We shall have to investigate if opportunity arises. Purely for the betterment of medical science, of course." He did not even bother to keep a straight face.

 

He laughed at Sophia's admission that she had composed poetry for her cats.

 

"I refuse to believe that you could ever bore me, my lady. You are a wonder to me, even your odes for cats."

 

He lowered his voice and placed a finger to his lips.

 

"Don't tell anyone, but I wrote one for my horse once." He patted the back of her hand as she squeezed his arm. "As for the method of delivery, whatever pleases you pleases me. The manner of the revelation is entirely secondary to the revelation itself."

 

His theatrics at the statue of Erato seemed to find their mark. It was wonderful to have a playmate for such things, someone to appreciate and encourage his taste for melodrama. More wonderful still was Sophia's close proximity, a delightfully heady sensation filling each of his senses. His nostrils flared, searching for her scent, and his eye fell once again to her lips.

 

Damn it man, have patience.

 

Charles took a deep breath and reasserted his focus.

 

"Oh, not near as bad as some of my past efforts, certainly, but it needs considerable work before it's worthy of its subject. But come, let us seek out Thalia."

[Sophia de la Cerda]

“Of course,” she acknowledged with a saucy little wink. Yes, she would definitely swoon when she showed him the grotto, assuming that Karl and Anna agreed to wait in the walled garden. If Lord Chatham made a move on her, they would expect her to scream. Sophia had given neither of them any reason to suspect that she fancied anyone except her Prince. And there was the fact that Esteban had given her permission to wlak in the gardens with the one-eyed Earl. He obviously trusted him with his wife.

 

She swayed slightly against him when he professed that she could never bore him. “I feel like swooning again. Your compliments are very potent.”

 

Sophia leaned closer, her eyes sparkling, when he put a finger to his lips. He had written a poem for his horse? “If he didn't run away when you read it to him, your poetry is still better than mine. When I recited my poems to my cats, they hissed and hid under my bed.” In truth, hey had just stared at her as felines were want to do, haughty expressions on their furry whiskered faces. They had looked more offended than impressed.

 

The touch of his hand sent tantalizing sparks of electricity up her arm. “Maybe I will do better if I think of my poem as the lyrics to a song. We shall see what I come up with.” It was too bad that Master Greyson had gone to Italy. He could have given her tips. His play, which she still had a copy of, had been written in verse, as had the opera's libretto.

 

“When your poem is done, I shall memorize every word so that it will be engraved upon my heart.”

 

Thalia's square was also covered in snow and looked like a giant canvas waiting to be painted. Their shoes served at the paintbrush, leaving a trail of footprints behind them. Sophia's hand dropped from Charles' arm and she stepped up to the statue, holding her bouquet up with both hands. She couldn't kneel or she might ruin her skirt or her lovely fur cloak, but she was so petite, she didn't need to.

 

“Most gracious Thalia,” she began. “You have endowed this season so far with joy and good cheer, and have blessed the opera that so pleased the King. Perhaps it was your influence that brought Lord Chatham and I together at the ball. The evening was so much brighter after we met. With this humble offering, I implore you today to bestow your glory to the banquet I will be hosting in a few days so that it will be an unparalleled success. I will sing your praises forever and suggest that an opera be written about you.”

 

Bending slightly, she lay the bouquet at the Grace's feet and then dropped a pretty curtsy. Turning back to Charles, she grinned. “I wonder what others will think when they see the bouquets. Perhaps we should do this more often just to mystify them and give them something good to gossip about for a change.

 

“So where would you like me to take you now? Or will you be content to follow where I lead?”

[Charles Audley]

"It was written to honour him posthumously actually. He was shot from under me at Enzheim and I can be frightfully sentimental about these things."

 

Ogier had been the fourth horse Charles had lost campaigning on the continent, and a fifth had been piked at Turckheim. He hadn't named an animal since.

 

Sentimental is right.

 

Charles smiled and shook his head.

 

"At least he never had to suffer through my efforts at epic poetry. Virgil I am not."

 

He bowed his head as Sophia promised to memorise his poem.

 

"You honour me, my lady. I can only promise to blazon your work on my soul with letters of fire."

 

I suppose this means that I actually have to write one, now.

 

He waited quietly as Sophia entreated Thalia, attempting to pin down what drew him to her. Oh, she was beautiful and witty and good company besides, certainly, but these were not qualities in short supply at court. Why, then, was he taking the risk of associating with her?

 

Well, the risk is half the fun, is it not?

 

That was true, so far as it went, but it still seemed to Charles an unsatisfactory answer.

 

He left off his introspection as Sophia finished her offering.

 

"Another opera, my lady? Bribed so handsomely, how can Thalia refuse you? But tell me, do you intend to make it de rigeur for goddesses to be portrayed by you? A trend I would most heartily approve of. I should particularly like to see you play Venus."

 

He chuckled at her suggestion for confusing the court gossips.

 

"Well, I would never refuse an excuse to spend time in your company my lady. Merely let me when and where would suit. As for the current moment, I am entirely in your hands. Lead as you will."

[Sophia de la Cerda]

“I am sorry about your horse.” Sophia squeezed his arm again. “It must have been horrible to lose him like that. I do not know what I would do if something happened to Acapella. I am fortunate I do not have to worry about losing him in battle. Maybe you should try again, now that your grief is not so fresh.”

 

She smiled mischievously. “You might need the fire to cleanse your soul of the despair my poetry leaves behind. How am I going to pull this off? I sing much better than I write. I guess, if nothing else, he will laugh at my lame efforts. I do so love the sound of his laughter.

 

“It was all I could think of to offer her.” The young blonde shrugged nonchalantly. “What goddess would not wish to be immortalized in music?”

 

Her eyes narrowed playfully at his question, and she tapped one slender finger against her chin thoughtfully. “Hmmmm … maybe I shall. If the King does not commission another opera, I will not be able to sing onstage again, but I can portray a goddess during any concerts I am asked to give.” Again, she blushed. “Why do you want to see me as Venus? I do know a few of her arias from an Italian opera.”

 

Sophia had actually played Venus onstage, disguised as her alter-ego Giuliana Fiore. It had been the role the aspiring singer had been praised most for. She no longer had the entire opera memorized but she did remember all of her arias. “Perhaps if you speak to the King, you can tell him how much you enjoyed the opera and he will want to have another one written for his enjoyment.” Master Greyson was in Italy and she suspected that Master Cole had left court, but maybe there were other composers and librettists looking for a chance to prove themselves to the King.

 

Lord Chatham seemed quite willing to engage in a bit of mischief. “We should adorn the gardens in flowers in the early morning, before many people are around. I can even make wreaths that we can place around the necks of the smaller statues. We should wait a few days and then strike again. Would early Thursday morning suit you?”

 

Sophia's smile brightened. “I will take you to one of my favorite places … the Walled Garden.” She led him down the pathways, pointing out various points of interest until they arrived at a wall with some steps leaning up to a wrought iron gate.*

 

The walls are covered with climbing roses and ivy, while also containing many other rare plants, including a weeping willow. The enclosed walls give the impression of being separated from court, almost in another world. Not surprisingly, the Queen used to favour this garden by day, often drawing comfort from its surroundings and the familiar scent of orange blossoms from the citrus trees scattered throughout.

 

By night, though, it is a different story. Due to its secretive nature, it is said to be frequented by less savoury characters.

 

Opening the gate, she stepped inside. There were no roses now, but it was still quite beautiful beneath a fluffy coating of snow. It almost seemed like another world, a soothing place far from the complications and worries of court. “What do you think?” she asked him. “I often come here to paint in the warmer months.”

 

Anna and Karl followed them in and stood close to the gate.

 

 

*Description based on the picture on the garden locations page.

[Charles Audley]

Charles shrugged casually.

 

"Having seen how alluring you were as Diana, I would very much like to see what passion you would impart to the Goddess of Love. And, frankly, it seems like a role you were born to play." A slow, lazy smile, showing just a hint of tooth.

 

That smile gave way to full-bodied laughter as Sophia continued.

 

"You flatter me overmuch, my lady, when you suggest that my likes and dislikes have any influence on his Majesty's decision making. An appeal from you would be far more likely to have effect."

 

Still chuckling, he listened to Sophia's plans for mischief-making. Truthfully, he did not expect their antics to perturb or interest court overmuch, nor did he expect their involvement to long remain a secret (had he not received proof of the efficiency of the court gossip service that very morning?) but it gave him something to do that was purely good, innocent fun. And he would be doing it in rather attractive company.

 

So perhaps not that innocent. Most certainly good fun, though.

 

"Thursday morning suits me admirably, but will you be able to leave the banquet preparations? I would hate to cause you any unnecessary difficulty."

 

That smile is a weapon fit to overthrow empires, and I don't believe she has the faintest idea Charles mused as Sophia beamed at him, seeming quite pleased by his acquiescence to being guided by her. Part of his mind focused on the interesting features of the garden she pointed out, while the rest of him devoted itself to identifying her perfume and pondering the logistics of kissing her. He was most of a foot taller, and it paid to work these things out in advance.

 

With the seamless ease of long practice, he abandoned his mental digressions and gave his full attention to the Walled Garden as they arrived.

 

"I can see why. It seems wonderfully peaceful and... intimate." He raked an admiring glance over the garden. "It's easily the second most beautiful thing I've seen today."

 

He looked at Sophia, lips quirking slightly upwards.

 

"Of course, very little is at its best in winter. All covered up, hiding their full beauty behind wintery trappings. It must be beyond words in summer, with its full glory uncovered."

 

Why, by your standards, that was almost subtle.

 

Well, the servants are in earshot. Can't be too overt.

[Sophia de la Cerda]

“You're just trying to get everywhere again,” she teased. If he was, he was getting close to his goal. Vividly pleasurable sensations blossomed through her nubile young body and again, her gaze wandered to his lips. “I should like to portray her one day.” Sophia tilted her head to the side. “Do you sing by any chance? You have the voice for it. I can think of no one I would rather have to play Mars to my Venus.”

 

His laughter sent more silvery thrills rippling down her spine. “Maybe I am trying to get everywhere too. I do remember that you said His Majesty was allowing you to have a say in who gets his puppies. I think he would listen to your opinion. And if I can get other courtiers to praise the opera as well, he might just decide to commission another.”

 

Sophia did think that their mischief would make the desired impact. People would wonder who was doing it and why. Lots of houses had orangeries so she would not be automatically implicated. It would be refreshing to hear gossip about something so playful and fun instead of the usual endless accusations and insults.

 

“I trust my servants to prepare everything to my satisfaction. I will be nervous, for this will be only my second party and the first one on such a grand scale. I find that being active keeps my anxiety at bay so that it doesn't consume me.” Her eyes sparkled impishly. “If anyone can get my mind off of my worries, it is you.”

 

And now he was comparing her to the Walled Garden. A crimson hue splashed across her porcelain cheeks. Was he imagining what she would look like without her cloak or would he rather see her wearing nothing at all? The notion should have shocked her, but it intrigued her instead. “It is quite beautiful during the summer.”

 

Leaning toward him, Sophia lowered her lyrical voice, which took on a sultry tone. “The rose is in full bloom, preening beneath the light of the sun.” Much as she preened beneath his compliments. “She reveals her bounteous charms in hopes of being plucked from the vine for the enjoyment of the one who dares to take what he wants.”

 

Although she stepped away from him, her voice remained soft. “This garden holds a secret … a place of even more delights. Would you like to see it?”

[Charles Audley]

"With you my lady? Always," he confessed cheerily. "Is it working?" Charles bit his lip to hold back riotous laughter as she asked about his singing. "I fear, my lady, that I have not a note. The last time I tried to sing the audience responded with cannon fire. An entirely justified response, but hard on a young man's confidence. Alas, then, I shall not wield the spear of Mars." His eye twinkled. "On stage at least."

 

You are aware that it is possible to have a conversation with a woman that doesn't involve innuendo?

 

Where's the fun in that?

 

He arched an eyebrow at Sophia's assumption of his influence.

 

"I believe I told you at the ball that you had but to ask to get everywhere. Time has not lessened your hold on me. Quite the opposite." A quick smile. "As it happens, his Majesty is aware of my opinion of the opera, for whatever little it might count for. If I might be permitted to make a suggestion, look to the dukes. York might commission one to win greater support, Newcastle and Norfolk might do it to get one over one another and Albemarle might do it because you're beautiful. Even if they won't finance one themselves, their support will weigh more heavily with the King than mine."

 

Based on everything he had seen of her, Charles would not have expected Sophia to suffer from anxiety. It was endearing, really, that she had revealed even such a small flaw.

 

"I would be delighted to serve in any capacity you might find useful. I am sure that I can think of some way to distract you."

 

The blush his barely concealed double entendre at the Walled Garden wrung from her was perhaps the loveliest yet. Charles felt a pang of something that he chose not to examine, past experience having taught him that to do so would make matters more complicated than they already were. Instead, he fell back on his well-practiced role and gave Sophia a direct look.

 

"Oh, I'm certain of it."

 

He could not resist mirroring her in leaning closer, savouring her sultry tones as he might a fine cognac. He met her eyes again, his own voice dropping to a purr.

 

"The heart swells for the rose, so lovely, so precious and yet cruelly ignored. Would it truly be such a crime to pluck the fair blossom so foully neglected by the gardener?"

 

He shook his head and gave her a mock glare.

 

"You lied to me my lady. You have poetry in your soul. I shall forgive you, though, if you show me this further delight. I have an insatiable appetite for secrets."

[Sophia de la Cerda]

“Perhaps,” she replied with a mysterious little smile. Let him guess whether or not his flattery was lowering her inhibitions … assuming that she had any inhibitions. With him, she wasn't sure she did.

 

Sophia did laugh when he described what had happened when he had tried to sing. She assumed he was just jesting with her. What kind of audience brought cannons to a performance. Unless … “That is what happens when you sing on a battlefield. I doubt even my voice would be enough to stop a war.”

 

A winsome smile. “Then perhaps we can find another place for you to wield the spear of Mars. I imagine you would be so creative with it that Venus would writhe in utter delight.”

 

So he had already told the King how much he had enjoyed the opera. How many other gentlemen had done the same? “York scares me,” she confessed. “I only met him once, and there was something about him that made my skin crawl. I would not sing for him even if he got down on his knees and begged.” Which of course he would never do. He was too arrogant for that.

 

“I would like to talk to Buckingham about having an opera house built in London. I know he has the means to finance it. Perhaps there are other composers under his patronage that would like to write an opera. And he is close to the King, and his advice would be taken into consideration.

 

“You are right. I should speak to other Dukes as well. They may be willing to contribute to the opera house and may have ideas for operas that could be performed there.” Sophia pouted prettily. “I wish I could speak to the King myself, but he seems to have forgotten all about me.”

 

Lord Chatham was distracting her already in a most tantalizing way. “We shall start with adorning the garden with flowers and see where it leads. I have discovered that mischief often breeds more mischief. Perhaps you have noticed the same.

 

Her body hummed pleasurably as he expanded on her rose metaphor. “I do not think it would be a crime at all. Since the gardener neglects the budding rose, he will have no one to blame but himself if someone else finds it precious enough to pluck.”

 

Sophia sighed when he claimed she had poetry in her soul. “I did not lie to you. It might be in my soul but it has yet to reach my mind or my quill. Maybe you can coax it out of hiding and inspire it to shine.”

 

As she had hoped, he took her bait and she led him to the grotto.

 

Inside the complete walled over garden, one could find a place of even greater closure. It was a grotto, completely unnatural, created by mans hands. The walls were covered with seashells in a certain pattern, and the rest of it was filled with mosaic, blue most of all, that shone brilliantly and beckoned all passers by to come closer.

 

The artfully tiled cavern seemed untouched by the seasons. It even felt warmer than it was outside, although that might be due to her charming companion. Karl and Anna stood by the entrance, just out of view. She was pleased that they had decided to give her a bit of privacy at last.

 

Flouncing over to one of the benches, Sophia sat down and patted the place beside her, much as she had done when he had first arrived. “Isn't it beautiful?” she asked. “You would not expect such a jewel to be concealed here, would you?”

[Charles Audley]

Sophia's pout would have stopped Attila in his tracks. Charles barely held himself back from kissing her breathless.

 

"I very much doubt that he has, my lady. You have a way of living in the memory. In any case, perhaps you will have a chance to speak with him when you get your new puppy. In the meantime, entreat the dukes. Buckingham is a good bet."

 

He grinned with boyish excitement at her talk of mischief.

 

"Oh, I hope so. I am very much looking forward to working mischief with you, my lady."

 

You see, this is what comes from constantly speaking in innuendo. You end up doing it even when you mean not to.

 

Sophia's response to his addition to her rosy allegory was exactly as he had hoped. He smiled gently.

 

"That is to the good then. Surely whoever plucked the rose would wish her to think so, that she would not regret being plucked and thus come to hate he who had done it."

 

He shook his head in rebuttal to her claims.

 

"You may say whatever you like my lady, but that was poetry. If I can help to inspire or coax any more of it from you, then it would be a pleasure to do so."

 

The grotto was everything she had promised, and if the Walled Garden had been intimate, he did not have words for this. (Particularly in light of the servants ceasing to dog their footsteps.) He seated himself obediently close beside her, letting his hand fall naturally to rest atop hers, intertwining their fingers.

 

"Staggeringly beautiful," he agreed. "But I have found greater gems in more unexpected places."

 

He met her eyes, his own shining with heat and his voice dropping to an intimate whisper.

 

"On the arm of an ignorant fool, too blind and stupid to appreciate what a treasure he had, for example."

[Sophia de la Cerda]

“If I get a puppy,” Sophia corrected him. “His Majesty may decide other ladies are more worthy than I.” She should have asked him to dance at the ball, but she was concerned about what the Queen would think. Surely she would have heard the rumors about her suggestive performance. If she had danced with the King, the Queen might have thought they were already lovers and Sophia's chances of becoming her friend would be forever ruined.

 

“Do you know any Dukes you can introduce me to?” she asked the charming Earl. “Or people who know them and might be persuaded to introduce me? I have been told that ladies should not just walk up to gentlemen they do not know well. They need to be presented first.”

 

Sophia had never attended court in Germany, and she wondered if the same standards applied or if they were more relaxed. Germans were so straightforward that she could not see them looking down on ladies who struck up conversations with strangers. Instead, they would be encouraged, or so it seemed to her. Having left her homeland so young, she knew little of its ways.

 

“So you will be my partner in mischief?” she asked with a coquettish smile. “I can only imagine some of the things we can get up to.” He was enthralling, perhaps even more so that Lord Arundel and Lord Winchilsea put together. He appealed to her on such a deep level that it was difficult for her to comprehend. And oh, how she longed for him to kiss her and hold her and caress her and ...

 

“If he who plucks the rose truly cherishes her and is not just interested in enjoying her charms briefly and then throwing her away, she will never resent him. Instead she would adore him above all others and her petals would unfold just for him.”

 

No matter what he said, Sophia knew that she was no poet, but he almost made her believe that she was. Maybe if she thought about him while trying to write, beautiful words would flow from her quill. It was a lovely dream, but she suspected that a dream was all it would ever be. Of course, she was older now than she had been when she had written odes to her cats. Maybe her muse had matured.

 

Anything was possible with the dashing Lord Chatham. And that was what excited her the most.

 

He sat down beside her, so close that she could feel the heat of his body and smell the scent of him. She did not expect him to place his hand on hers, and when he entwined their fingers, a jolt of pure pleasure exploded through her small form. There was a look of wonder on her face when she raised her eyes to his.

 

"But one more deserving can appreciate that treasure," she purred. squeezing his hand, "Unless he lets the opportunity slip away."

[Charles Audley]

Charles frowned thoughtfully.

 

"No dukes as yet, but I've a passing acquaintance with Dorset, if that is of any use to you." He shrugged. "Of course, as an ambassador's wife, you could probably just invite the dukes to your banquet and lay your groundwork there."

 

He paused a moment and laughed.

 

"You have bewitched me! See how I pass up any prospective advantage in this!"

 

He met Sophia's smile with a devilish smirk of his own.

 

"Wholeheartedly my lady. I am certain your imaginings match mine, but perhaps we should compare notes, just to be sure."

 

He was not entirely certain what he might do if she answered in kind. He was already almost overwhelmed by the urge to throw her over his shoulder and make a run for it.

 

Charles did not trust himself not to resort to single entendres in reply to Sophia and contented himself with a nod as he followed her to the grotto.

 

The look on her face as he seated himself was almost painful. He felt as thought he held something incalculably precious and delicate in the palm of his hand, and a familiar dark voice in the back of his mind hissed that he was sure to destroy it, from malice or carelessness or both...

 

But Charles had decades of practice in ignoring his father, and Sophia's words acted as a goad.

 

I will be careful and gentle and discreet...

 

In short, all the things you never are?

Charles leaned forward and kissed her, lightly at first, as he had at the ball, but steadily deepening.

[Sophia de la Cerda]

“I think that Dorset owns the theatre that the opera was performed in. I spoke to him a couple of times and he saw me to my carriage after I gave a concert for the King. I doubt he remembers me, and I would not mind talking to him. As for the banquet, lmost everyone at court has been invited, including the Dukes.”

 

A thoughtful expression crossed her fair features. “I guess if I see them before Thursday, I can tell them how much I would like for them to come. Maybe they would be more likely to attend if they receive a verbal invitation accompanied by a smile.” Perhaps it would not be unseemly for an Ambassador's wife to approach a Duke without an introduction. Her position was so new to her, she wasn't exactly sure if it gave her any influence or not when it came to those higher in status than she.

 

“Yes, we must definitely compare notes. Our ideas are probably quite similar, but perhaps sufficiently different to inspire a bit of creative experimentation.” He said nothing more about her rose metaphor. Could it be that he only wanted a casual fling? Sophia didn't want to be a notch on any gentleman's bedpost.

 

Yet, those disturbing thoughts fled as soon as he touched her. Why would he risk a husband's ire for a few moments of pleasure? As handsome and eloquent as he was, he could probably have any lady he desired. There were many young widows he could choose from without the possibility of repercussions.

 

But he wanted her.

 

And she wanted him.

 

Her breath caught in her throat when he leaned toward her, and when he pressed his lips to hers, she exhaled in a soft sigh. At first, Sophia thought he would only kiss her like he had at the ball, but he steadily became more passionate. So many delightful sensations trilled through her body that she thought that she might die of sheer ecstasy.

 

She responded eagerly, and then suddenly pulled away. Her fingers tightened around his. “Aren't the patterns of the seashells lovely?” she asked, loud enough that Karl and Anna could hear. Hopefully, even if they looked inside, they would not be able to see them well. It seemed darker in the grotto than it was in the garden.

 

Sophia inclined her head toward the entrance. “We have to keep up a normal conversation or they will be suspicious,” she whispered to Charles, gazing up into that beautiful blue eye of his with desire glittering in her own.

[Charles Audley]

As always, whatever doubts or recriminations Charles might have entertained previously were forgotten in action. His mind and senses gave their full and focused attention to the moment, to the wonderful pleasure of desiring and being desired. To Sophia.

 

(Some distant part of him noted with amusement and appreciation that he and Toledo were obviously not the only ones she'd kissed. Well, why not? She was young and beautiful and he was the last who should reproach another for taking what pleasure they could from life. Besides, he was the one enjoying the benefits now, so why complain?)

 

He was enjoying her eagerness, and preparing to progress, when she drew back. An incipient frown was swiftly replaced by a wry smile at this fresh evidence of her cunning.

 

"Lovely beyond words," he agreed, eye fixed on her. He glanced about briefly (to remind himself what the grotto looked like) before continuing. "I do like the mosaic work though. Rare to see that sort of effort in this sort of setting."

 

A timely reminder that we are not exactly alone. Do heed it.

 

He brought up his free hand to cup her cheek, softly stroking, and lowered his voice to a heartfelt whisper.

 

"I would very much like to kiss you again, but my self-control is a frail reed and I fear I would not stop there. You deserve better than a quick romp on a cold bench, I think."

[Sophia de la Cerda]

His kiss was an exciting revelation and Sophia enjoyed it immensely. She had only kissed four gentlemen in her entire sixteen years: Master Cole, her beloved Don Juan, Lord Arundel, and now Lord Chatham. She didn't count the kiss with Lord Dundarg because they had been rudely interrupted by her chaperone before he had done more than touch his lips to hers.

 

Charles' kiss enchanted and aroused her. Her young body trembled in utter bliss and a white hot thrill shimmered deliciously down her spine. If there was any man that was worth risking her husband's wrath for, it was this handsome and enthralling Earl. How she wished to feel him thrusting deep inside her, to watch the myriad emotions play across his face as he was consumed by passion, to hear his groans of ecstasy.

 

But if they didn't stop, her two guardians would notice that they had fallen silent and step inside to check on her. And so reluctantly, sorrowfully, she broke the kiss and made a lame remark about the seashells. Sophia hoped he understood that she was not rejecting him, but trying to protect him.

 

He answered in kind, but by the way he looked at her, she could tell that he was not talking about the wall decorations. She blushed again, but her eyes remained locked on his, smoldering with desire. “I sometimes wonder who made this place and for what purpose. Its creator must have wanted visitors to feel as if they were beneath the sea.”

 

Her voice lowered to a whisper. "And I wish I was beneath you. Or maybe on top." If they had been alone, she would have slid upon his lap, but unfortunately there was only so much they could get away with with Karl and Anna nearby. When he cupped her cheek and softly stroked it, she scooted closer until her ample bosom was pressed against his arm. She was pleased that he thought she was worth more than a quick romp in the cold, but disappointed that he wasn't going to kiss her again.

 

“Then I will cherish your kiss until we find a place and time where we can let our passions run free.” Capturing his hand, she lifted it up, turned it over, and kissed his palm. “It is too dangerous for us here with my bodyguard just around the corner.”

[Charles Audley]

Charles would have given anything for an hour's worth of privacy with Sophia at that moment. Even half an hour or twenty minutes would have been most gratefully received. His mind was full of her, of her taste and scent, of thoughts of how that sweet voice would sound in the throes of ecstasy. Again he entertained the thought of simply carrying her off.

 

But that was entirely impractical, and so they were confined to briefly stolen kisses and loud, inane conversation to satisfy her chaperones. Charles felt practically afire with the combination of desire and intense frustration.

 

He hissed quietly at her whispered comments and fixed her with a gaze that had long replaced its customary urbane coolness with lusty heat.

 

"And both those wishes will be granted, I promise you. Until then, please do not torment me so, you minx!" Raising his voice once more, he went on. "The purpose of beauty is to be admired, my lady. It is its own justification. And you are right about the... marine theme. Why, one might almost think oneself drowning." As before, he maintained eye contact throughout.

 

He smiled at her words and her lips on his palm.

 

"It is not often I find myself bereft of words," he whispered "but you defeat my eloquence." He trailed his hand along the line of her jaw. "The waiting will seem an eternity."

 

His self-control was a thin reed, and sitting there, pressed against her, was too much for it. He kissed her once more, hungrily.

 

"For luck," he explained as he drew back.

[Sophia de la Cerda]

“So you will make my wishes come true?” Sophia wished she could undo his breeches, lift up her skirts, and straddle him now, but she knew that they would never be able to get away with it. And, in truth, she wanted more than that. She wanted time to lavish attention on every part of him with her hands and her tongue, to tease him until he begged her for release. Maybe they could try some of those naughty things she had read about in her racy Italian novels. She could bring one with her and read her favorite passages to him. Hopefully, he understood Italian better than he spoke it.

 

“But I cannot help it.” A saucy smile turned up the corners of her lips. “You are a temptation that I cannot resist. You tease me too, you know. What is the English expression … turning around is fair play?” It was 'turnabout is fair play' but the petite blonde often made errors when it came to idioms. Her English was still far from perfect.

 

And once more, Sophia was unable to stop herself from a seductive comment. “I am drowning,” she purred, “drowning in desire for you.”

 

She raised her voice again. “Ahh, so we actually differ on some things. I don't feel as if I am drowning here. I feel as if I am a mermaid and this is my home.” Her blush deepened, for sometimes she really did pretend she was a mermaid when she visited the grotto. She would sing notes instead of words, imagining that she was performing in an opera about a siren who lured unsuspecting sailors to their doom with her beautiful voice. When she saw Master Cole again ... or when she met another composer … she would suggest mermaids as a subject for an opera.

 

His hand trailing along her jaw left a trail of fire in its wake. “So my evil plan is working. I have discovered one of your secrets … how to render you speechless.” A soft forlorn sigh. “Waiting will be agonizing but there is no other way. I dread parting from you this afternoon. I will feel as if an important part of myself is missing until we meet again.”

 

Sophia had hoped he would kiss her again, and she was not disappointed. This kiss seemed even fervent than the first one, and she opened her mouth so that his tongue could dance with hers. She was positively ravenous for him, and his kiss almost took her breath away. His beard tickled her chin and she wondered if it would tickle if he kissed her in … other places … as well. Her free hand stroked his dark hair and moved lower to the nape of his neck.

 

She pouted when he pulled away and her hand moved up to trace the line of his mustache and then his lips. An idea suddenly popped into her mind. “The power of your kiss is working already. Perhaps you can ask my husband if you can escort me to Lord Maldon's snowball fight. There will be so much chaos, it will impossible for Karl to keep his eye on me. But if you promise to stay by my side and protect me, then maybe I will not have to take him along. The poor man does need some time off. He follows me around almost constantly.”

[Charles Audley]

Charles did not even notice Sophia's difficulty with the idiom, feeling almost drunk on her closeness.

 

"Oh, cruel cruel cruel. But very well, if you have no mercy for me then I shall show none for you." Charles walked his hand slowly up her arm and shoulder, drawing it back before it touched anything interesting. "And as for your wishes..."

 

He leaned in closer still.

 

"Every. Single. One," he purred out into her ear. "You need but name them."

 

He smiled at Sophia's blushing confession.

 

"How far down does that blush go?" he asked in a whisper, eye glinting wickedly, before raising his voice for the benefit of the servants. "Then you would not mind if we linger a moment or two longer? I tweaked my leg fencing this morning, you see, and the cold has had something of a detrimental effect. But a brief rest should see it right again."

 

He sighed wistfully in tandem with Sophia as the practical reality of their situation asserted itself.

 

"And in parting with you I will lose the sun." He smiled suddenly, determined to put paid to this malaise until they had at least actually parted company. "But enough lamentations. In your company, there are better things for me to do with my tongue." Charles demonstrated, much to Sophia's delight if he was any judge.

 

He kissed at her fingertips as she traced the lines of his mouth and beard, enjoying the tickling sensation. He nodded along with her idea, moving his lips to her palm and thence to the inside of her wrist.

 

"I can certainly make the approach. I have a thought or two that might work, but 'twill take time, one way or the other." He frowned. "Is the maid sound then? Or will we need to deal with her too?"

[Sophia de la Cerda]

“Mercy,” she breathed, “is not what I want from you.” Sophia had to clasp a hand over her own mouth to stifle a moan as his fingers glides up her arm. Would his hand wander down to her cleavage? She held her breath in anticipation, but he drew back instead.

 

He is a masterful tease, she thought as she felt his warm breath whisper in his ear. He will be absolutely magnificent in bed. “Then I shall name them when the time is right. Until then, you will have to imagine my deepest desires.”

 

Her entire body trembled when he wondered if her entire body was suffused with color. “I do not know, but my body burns with even more heat than my cheeks. You will have to tell me when we are able to be alone.”

 

She smiled at the realization that he was buying them more time. “There is no rush to return,” she said in a conversational tone. “We can linger here as long as you want. I do not have to be anywhere else until three.”

 

Sophia didn't want to dwell on their eventual parting either, and when he showed her that he could do much better things with his tongue, she trembled in the utmost delight. No one but Juan had ever kissed her so sensuously before. Lord Chatham's style was much different than her royal lover's, but no less enticing.

 

Her fingers tingled as his lips brushed over them, and when he kissed the inside of her wrist, she wondered if he could feel her rapid pulse. Lifting her head, she kissed his neck and nibbled playfully on his earlobe.

 

“The snowball fight is not until Friday, so we still have a few days to plan. I believe we can trust Anna. She never watches me too closely, and if my husband does not object, I can give her the day off. There is certain to be lots of parties for commoners at the end of the year, and she has many friends in the city."

 

She blew gently into his ear. "Even if she does come with me, we should be able to slip away from her. It is my bodyguard I am worried about. With him out of the way, we should be fine.”

[Charles Audley]

That just might be the most sincere and flattering compliment I have received in some time Charles thought irreverently as Sophia stifled her own moan. His hand returned to her shoulder, walking back down her arm.

 

"Oh, I will." His eye glinted as she told him that he would have to imagine her desires. "Frequently, and at great length."

 

The full-body tremble when he speculated as to the extent of her blush was another compliment, and he smiled down at her.

 

"Oh, you do say the sweetest things," he paused briefly, searching for a fitting pet name, "my dear Psyche." That made him Eros, a comparison that did not displease him.

 

He waggled his eyebrows as she caught onto his little deception, once again wishing he could wink.

 

"Excellent. I would hate to impose any further than I already have. While we wait, perhaps we might discuss poetry, seeing as it seems to be an interest in common. Have you a favourite work or poet? I will confess to a regard for the Romans, particularly Ovid."

 

Charles tilted his head to give her better access as she kissed at his neck and ear, swallowing a moan of his own. He removed his lips from her wrist, replacing them with his thumb, stroking soft circles on the sensitive skin. His other hand slid out to rest on her hip.

 

"If you are sure. Now, what tack should I take with Toledo? I am considering suggesting that having you accompanied everywhere implies that he does not trust you, which does your reputation no favours. I could say that I have already heard such rumours from... York's household I think. It is the most plausible."

[Sophia de la Cerda]

Sophia closed her eyes and sighed softly as his fingers meandered back down her arm. Every little touch increased the desire coursing through her veins. At the time Esteban had hired Karl to protect her, she had thought it was an excellent idea for she had been afraid of abduction or being harassed by mobs. But in the palace she was safe from harm, and she believed that her husband wanted him to accompany her because he was afraid she would get into mischief otherwise.

 

With good reason, I suppose.

 

“And I will imagine yours during each waking moment, and dream about you every night.” Most of her dreams were erotic, which wasn't surprising considering that her sexual needs were not being met and she was amorous by nature.

 

Her eyes lit up when he called her 'Psyche.' She had always loved the story of Psyche and Eros and many of the paintings she had seen of the goddess depicted her with butterfly wings. The butterfly was also one of the symbols associated with her. Sophia had always had a fondness for butterflies. “If I am your Psyche, you are my Eros,” she whispered. It was truly a fitting name for him, she thought.

 

He was quite clever, coming up with a valid reason for them to linger in the grotto together. “You are not imposing. I find your company quite pleasant.” She allowed a hint of boredom to color her voice, so that Karl and Anna would think that she was only humoring him. Her wicked grin would hopefully tell Lord Chatham that it was just a part of their ruse.

 

Thinking of poetry wasn't easy when all of her senses were filled with him. “There are so many wonderful poets that it is difficult to choose. I did love Ovid's Metamorphosis.” She was unaware of his erotic poetry and had, in fact, never read any erotic poems. Only recently had she discovered the bawdy Italian novels she loved so much. She had bought them in Venice because the other opera singers were always gushing over them, but at the time, they had just confused her, for her body had not yet awakened to desire. Now that she had been initiated into the mysteries of lovemaking, she understood them perfectly.

 

“I like Homer too. The Iliad and The Odyssey were quite interesting.” Sophia had read all three works she had mentioned in Italian. “And I recently finished Chaucer's The Canterbury Tales. I read most of it during my travels to Germany and Madrid at the end of the summer.”

 

When he tilted his head, she moved her lips from his ear to his neck again, nibbling on it playfully. His moan encouraged her even more, and she rained little kisses along his bearded jawline until she reached his lips, which she kissed and licked briefly, teasingly. The heat of his hand seemed to burn through her clothes and she placed hers on his thigh.

 

“That might be exactly the incentive he needs. I do not know what he thinks of York, but he is a fellow Catholic so he probably respects his opinion, as well as those he associates with. And since most married ladies are allowed to go places alone, others may think it is odd that I am always guarded. He says it is for my protection, but if he believes that rumors are being spread about his lack of trust in me, he might be more lenient. He seems to care about what other people think of him. I also think he would listen to you. He spoke more during our short conversation than he usually does. I believe you made a positive impression on him.”

[Charles Audley]

"And I shall not sleep for want of you."

 

Oh good, a game of romantic oneupmanship. Save everyone a great deal of time and offer her the stars to wear in her hair now, would you?

 

Cynicism was put aside, however, when he saw Sophia's joyous expression at being compared to Psyche. It simply wasn't fair, he mused. How was a man supposed to think when confronted with that glorious spectacle?

 

Charles barely choked back a fit of laughter as the implication of the comparison hit him.

 

"Oh God. That makes Toledo Venus."

 

Fortunately, they were both soon distracted from that image by their need to deceive the servants.

 

"Oh, Metamorphoses is sublime, but I think you would enjoy Heroides and Amores as well. I can lend you my copies if you like." He paused a moment. "Does your lord husband read? I have a work on the campaigns of Gonzalo de Córdoba that I think might interest him."

 

Based on the ball, Charles had a shrewd idea that Toledo might not care for poetry, but he did care for his country and its history. A book on perhaps Spain's finest soldier might well interest him, and the gift would help mask any attention Charles might give Sophia.

 

And there would be a great deal of that if she continued on like this. He had not quite realised how much of an effect she was having on him until her hand landed on his thigh, radiating heat like a brand. It was almost embarrassing, really. Unconsciously his foot tapped out a quick marching beat.

 

With herculean effort, he focused on the matter at hand- I thought that was what you were trying to ignore- and spoke.

 

"Excellent. If that isn't enough, I'll point out that having you guarded constantly is both an insult to England and makes him, and by extension Spain, look weak and paranoid."

 

That dealt with, he kissed her again, tongue stealing forth to beg admittance as his hand left her wrist and slid up her flank. Fingertips brushed an exquisite breast- and stopped, as he drew back and sighed. Looking her square in the eye, he spoke.

 

"I genuinely am about to do something deeply unwise."

[Sophia de la Cerda]

“You are my addiction, and I will never be satisfied until you have fulfilled me.” She favored him with a naughty little wink. “Do not worry about sleep. You will be so exhausted after our next meeting that you will be unable to do anything else.” Sophia wished that they could fall asleep wrapped in each other's arms and remain that way until morning, but she knew that was impossible. They would have a few hours at most during the snowball fight and that, she suspected, would not be enough for her … and hopefully not for him either.

 

The petite Baroness covered her mouth again, this time to stifle her laughter when an image popped into her mind of Esteban rising from the sea in a shell. In a way the role fit him, for he would try to keep them apart and he had already given her at least three impossible tasks. He wanted her to be proper to the point of prudishness, to obey him in all things, and to dress modestly. Even if she was accepted in the most prestigious court circles, she doubted she would please him.

 

“I would love to borrow them, as long as they are translations. I cannot read Latin at all.” Many gentlemen could understand that archaic language. She had been taught a little during her education in Venice, but not enough for her to read it sufficiently. And she had forgotten most of it, anyway.

 

“My lord husband is an avid reader. I am sure he would appreciate any book about Spain.” Sophia had never heard of Gonzalo de Córdoba, but the name was definitely Spanish, and a campaign had to do with war. It sounded exactly like the kind of reading material Esteban would enjoy.

 

She squeezed his thigh when he began tapping his foot, and her hand moved a bit higher. “Yes, that is perfect. He wants to impress the English and show them that he will be a much better Ambassador than his predecessor. Spain is regarded poorly as it is. He will not want to give his enemies anything to use against him. Gifting him with a book will help too. It is like an overture of friendship. I believe he will take your opinions and advice into consideration.”

 

His kiss stole her every thought away and filled her mind and body with the most blissful feelings she had had experienced since she had left Madrid. Her hand remained where it was on his thigh, softly stroking the fabric of his breeches. A lovely little thrill meandered down her spine as she felt one of his hands sliding up her skirt-covered leg and she gasped against his lips as his fingertips brushed against her breast. Her mouth opened eagerly to admit his tongue so that it could dance with hers.

 

Suddenly, he drew back, and Sophia blinked a few times to bring herself back to the present. Her cheeks were flushed with pleasure and her lips were swollen from his kisses. More than anything, she wished for him to kiss her again … and again, and again.

 

“And what is that?” she asked, her voice a bit breathless. “My curiosity is almost as insatiable as my desire for you.” She sighed sadly. “But we need to be careful. At any moment, my guardians could decide to check on me and then we will never be able to see each other again.”

[Charles Audley]

"Oh promises, promises," he purred out, eye dancing. "I shall be most disappointed if you cannot live up to your words."

 

In truth, Charles expected that any intimate encounter with Sophia was going to be frustratingly short and rushed, but one had to put up with that sort of thing when romancing a married lady. And with a little ingenuity (and Charles considered himself an ingenious sort of fellow) they might well be able to engineer a more... satisfying and prolonged meeting.

 

He grinned delightedly at Sophia's mirth, stifling his own laughter.

 

"It is a ridiculous image, is it not? Botticelli would have wept."

 

A sharp smile of satisfaction answered her reply to their discussion of literature.

 

"Capital. My Heroides is Italian and my Amores is Marlowe's English translation, so that shouldn't be a problem." He lowered his voice to whisper in her ear. "The fourth entry of the latter is particularly relevant to our case I think." It was about Ovid and Corinna attending a banquet with her husband. The comparison amused Charles. (And, frankly, if one could have Ovid say a thing for one, one would have to be a fool not to.)

 

"Excellent. It will be nice to have some one to discuss El Gran Capitán with. And Ovid, of course. I'll send the books to the embassy, then, shall I?"

 

He hissed softly as Sophia caressed his thigh. The tempo of his tapping increased, signalling now a charge rather than a march. He barely noticed her confirm that he had read Toledo right, attention fixed on what she was doing to him. Self-control and restraint vanished, and he set about her in earnest.

 

But Charles had been playing these games too long for such to persist long. Realisation of where they were reasserted itself, though was almost banished again immediately by Sophia's words and tone. Reluctantly, Charles removed her hand from his thigh and placed his own flat on the bench. He drew and held a deep breath for a moment before speaking.

 

"I was about to willfully forget where and who we are. But you are right. However sweet the rewards of such joyful abandon, the price is too high." He smiled. "I will contain myself, and wait until we have the liberty to abandon our restraint."

[Sophia de la Cerda]

“Then you shall not be disappointed.” Her ice-blue eyes narrowed playfully. “I only hope you can keep up with me. I do not want to wear you out.” Sophia's royal lover was more than thirty years her senior. She had never shagged a younger man, except for Esteban, who didn't count. She had boundless energy when it came to sex, which was only natural for her age. However, she believed that her charming Eros would be up to the task, and whatever time they did have together would be spent in delighting each other over and over and over.

 

“Appalling, actually. I imagine that even now, Botticelli is turning over in his grave. I do hope that image fades from my mind before I see my lord husband this afternoon, or I may not be able to stop myself from laughing. He will think I have gone insane.”

 

Her voice rose. “Perfect. I can read well in both languages.” Sophia read English better than she spoke it. When she had first arrived in England, she had used books to improve her grasp of her adopted country's native tongue and increase her vocabulary. “The fourth entry of Amores,” she repeated in a whisper, “It shall be the first one I read and we can discuss it when we see each other again.”

 

Again, she spoke louder. “I believe my lord husband would enjoy that very much. You can send them either to the Embassy or to our residence.” Since she had no idea that Ovid wrote erotic poetry, she didn't think it would matter if her husband saw the books first.

 

She smiled at his hiss of pleasure, and she wanted to move farther up his thigh until she reached the bulge in his breeches. How she longed to stroke him there! But she did not dare, for she didn't want to push him to the point of no return. If they gave into their desires here and now, they would never get another chance.

 

The petite blonde hated to be the voice of reason, and she pouted when he removed her hand from his thigh. She could see that he was trying to compose himself and she attempted to do the same, looking away from him momentarily, her bosom heaving as she forced her breath back to a normal pattern. When she gazed at him again, there was naked desire in her ice-blue eyes and she lay her hand upon his.

 

“I do not want to wait either, but the reward will be worth it. I long for the day when we do not have to be so careful, when we can surrender to our passion for each other. Play your cards right with my husband and you will be able to escort me more often. He knows how much I like to ride and that taking Karl along with me slows me down.

 

"We will not be lying to him." She smiled mischievously. "We will be riding, just not on horseback the entire time."

[Charles Audley]

Charles frowned in mock affront.

 

"Oh, have a care my dear, lest I take your words as a challenge. I tend to be very enthusiastic in answering those."

 

Unlike Sophia, he might not have been in youth's first flush, but at twenty-six Charles felt himself in his prime, and had a wealth of experience to draw upon. If one of them was to be worn out, he was entirely confident it would not be him. (Though exhausting Sophia might prove damnably inconvenient, not that that made the thought much less alluring.)

 

He snorted quietly as their talk turned to Botticelli's corpse and its hypothetical reaction to Toledo as Venus.

 

"You know, harness those revolutions and you could probably power every mill in all of Christendom. Can we really afford to suppress such a potential boon for all mankind, even at the cost of your lord husband's good opinion of you?" His eye shone with amusement at his own ridiculousness.

 

His amusement grew as they moved to discussing Ovid.

 

"I'm sure you'll see the relevance," he whispered to Sophia before raising his voice for the benefit of their audience. "Your residence, then. I'll send my manservant round with the books this evening."

 

The audience was then completely forgotten as they strayed perilously close to the point of no return. Passion flared, and was barely restrained by reason. They both took a moment to centre themselves before continuing, though the efficacy was debatable. Charles nodded along with Sophia, turning his hand under hers so that they were palm to palm.

 

"Why is that so often one must seduce the husband in order to romance the wife?" he asked facetiously, before sighing melodramatically. "He's not exactly my idea of good company but, with that glorious image you have just planted in my head for inspiration, I shall persevere."

 

Swallowing his laughter, he raised his voice for the benefit of the servants yet again.

 

"My leg is recovered, my lady, if you wish to move on."

[Sophia de la Cerda]

“A challenge?” Sophia shrugged nonchalantly, but her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Maybe it was one. I do not think either of us will lack in enthusiasm. Perhaps we should bring an extra change of clothes in case we become a bit too eager.” She had never had her clothes ripped off before, but it happened a lot in those bawdy Italian novels she devoured. Generally, it was the woman's bodice that suffered the most.

 

She chuckled, a light and lyrical sound. “Do you think he would spin that fast? I suppose if we could convince my lord husband to dress like Venus, no one would have to rely on wind or water ever again.” It was a silly notion, to be sure, and if Esteban knew how they were speaking of him, he would not be pleased. She wondered now if she would ever look at him the same way again.

 

“I will look for the books this evening then.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “I will read it tonight before I go to bed. It will make me feel as if you are still with me.” Her bedchamber would feel even emptier now that she had spent this precious time with him. Now that she knew him better, she felt even more drawn to him than she had been at the ball. Sparks had flown between other gentlemen and herself, but with Lord Chatham, it was much different. Fireworks exploded between them instead … beautiful, colorful, and oh so exciting.

 

When he spoke of seducing Esteban, she realized just how much he was willing to go through for her. He could have other ladies without having to lull their husbands into a false sense of security, but he was willing to risk quite a lot to be with her. Sophia would risk much for him as well, even her husband's wrath or tarnishing her reputation beyond repair. But that would not happen. Everything would go according to plan. She was absolutely certain of it.

 

His palm was warm under her own and she lifted it up, kissed it, and then placed it against her heart. “I can hardly wait to ride with you,” she purred. “Feel how my heart beats in anticipation.”

 

He professed his leg well enough to continue, and she sighed, removing his hand from her heart and letting it go. “Very well.” She stood up and stole a quick but sweet kiss from his lips. “Would you like to see the rest of the gardens or would you rather go home and rest?” The saucy look she gave him implied that he had better rest while he could. Sophia wasn't ready to part with him, though. She doubted that she would ever be ready for that.

[Charles Audley]

His eye flashed and Charles leaned forward.

 

"Challenge accepted," he purred right into her ear. "And yes, a change of clothes might be advisable." (Though Charles would be loathe to actually tear Sophia's gowns- all that he had seen were exquisite creations- the threat fit the moment. And he could make no promises. He was liable to do anything in a fit of passion.)

 

He chuckled along with her at the farcical image they had conjured.

 

"Oh, certainly. The only difficulty would be finding gears capable of taking the strain."

 

Her whispered addendum concerning the books took his thoughts to very interesting places.

 

In my defense, how else is a man supposed to respond to a woman telling him she will be thinking of him in her bedchamber?

 

Charles shook his head and refocused, putting aside the delicious mental images.

 

"Capital," he said in response to both threads of their conversation. "I do hope you enjoy it."

 

He came close to losing control again when she laid his hand over her heart, growling in equal parts desire and frustration.

 

"I hope you're fond of long gallops."

 

In a rare display of common sense, Charles moved to bring an end to this immensely pleasant but deeply frustrating interlude, announcing his leg restored. He met Sophia's kiss eagerly and then pressed his lips tenderly to her forehead as he rose.

 

"Well, if you are not already tired of company, I should like to see the rest of the gardens. You have already shown me such unexpected wonders, and I very much want to see what other surprises you have in store."

[Sophia de la Cerda]

His breath in her ear set all of her senses on fire. “You should bring a change too.” Sophia didn't think she was strong enough to rip off his clothes, but the heroines of the novels did it all the time. Who knew what she would be capable of during the height of passion? It was best to be prepared.

 

Explaining to Esteban why she was bringing an extra gown would be easy. She was going to participate in a snowball fight, which meant that she would get wet and perhaps even fall a few times. Her husband knew that she didn't tolerate the cold well and would not want her to become ill. She could tell him she planned to change at the palace before she came home.

 

“I really need to get that image out of my mind. I do not want to be laughing like a maniac when he presents a donation to the Queen's charities later today.” Her ice-blue gaze raked him up and down appreciatively. “There. Now I have a much more entrancing image in my head, one that is definitely worth keeping.”

 

Perhaps placing his hand upon her heart was almost pushing him to the limits of his endurance, but Sophia could not resist. When he groaned, she grinned saucily and placed a finger against his lips. “Oh, I do,” she acknowledged, “but sometimes I like to ride more slowly too. Perhaps we will be able to do both.”

 

Her kiss was met with enthusiasm and her forehead tingled where his lips gently pressed against it. She closed her eyes and a soft sigh of pleasure escaped her full lips. When she opened them again, they still glittered with barely suppressed desire. “I think this is the most beautiful place in the garden, but there is much more to see.” Her voice lowered to a whisper once more. “The most delightful wonders, though, are not here, but in my secret garden.”

 

Sophia began to move toward the grotto's entrance. “If your leg pains you again, you can lean on me for support.” She was giving him an excuse to stay close to her in the presence of her bodyguard, if he chose to take it.

[Charles Audley]

"You assume that I'll be wearing my clothes long enough for you to rip them. Given the opportunity, I shall be out of them faster than you can blink."

 

Secretly, Charles was inwardly aghast at the thought of more of his wardrobe being ruined. He would have to wear his uniform to the snowball fight, as that was the only outfit whose destruction he (and, more importantly, Wodehouse) could tolerate.

 

He smiled at her admiration, and might even have preened a little. He returned the favour, running his eye across her lovely form in frank appreciation.

 

"Ah, but now you run the risk of staring wistfully into space, pining for the memory."

 

His hand on her heart did draw him to the limits of his control, a situation not helped by her words and actions in reply. He nipped at her fingertip and spoke.

 

"Oh, doubtless we will, but your mount shall need to be given his head first. He has been pent in the stables too long." (A wonder the earth did not swallow him at the enormity of that lie, though it certainly felt true at that moment.)

 

Sophia's whispered words as they stood to leave the grotto nearly had him dragging her to the floor. His eye flashed in mirror of hers.

 

"I look forward to exploring them," he murmured. "Every last inch."

 

He hid a smile at her cleverness as they left, though knew he would not take advantage. They were playing a long game here, after all.

 

"I thank you for the offer, my lady, but I fear 'twould be improper to take you up upon it. Besides, I fear I might be a weight too much for your frame."

[Sophia de la Cerda]

Another pout turned down the corners of her lips. “I was hoping you would let me undress you.” Sophia had undressed Juan many times, kissing each part of his dark skin as it was revealed. She had found the experience highly pleasurable. Then again, she and her Prince had made love almost every night in Madrid and there was no need for urgency. It was different with Lord Chatham. Their first coupling was certain to be uncontrollable and overwhelming, considering how long they would have to wait to consummate their passion.

 

She hoped they would have time for a more leisurely round as well. Sophia wanted to know everything about him, including what aroused him most. She knew what Juan liked by now, but she suspected that every gentleman was different when it came to what tantalized them sexually.

 

“I will have the memory with me always. It is you that I will pine for.”

 

The petite Baroness pulled her finger back when he nipped at it. He was going to be a very playful lover. More bright little thrills shimmed through her young body. He would most definitely be worth the wait.

 

His words implied that he was not a womanizer who slept with any woman he found attractive. Perhaps he was only drawn to those ladies to whom he felt an emotional connection. Idly, Sophia wondered if he had been without carnal fulfillment for as long as she had. “I shall give him all the head he wants,” she replied with a coquettish smile. This time, she was unaware of the innuendo in her words.

 

The desire flashing in his eyes was not only enticing, but dangerously alluring. If she replied as she wished to, he mght not be able to stop himself from taking her right here and now, which she wouldn't have protested to in the least. But any hope of future trysts would be impossible, and she could find herself locked in the house for the rest of the season.

 

He seemed to appreciate her offer, but chose not to take it. Perhaps that was for the best. If they betrayed their feelings unintentionally, Karl would be suspicious. “Very well. If it bothers you again, let me know and I will take you back to the palace.”

 

Her bodyguard and maidservant were waiting for them in the Walled Garden. They took up places behind her as Sophia led him through the gates and back into the garden proper. They did not follow too closely, allowing their mistress and her companion an illusion of privacy. If he offered her his arm, she would take it. Otherwise, she would walk close beside him.

 

“Have you seen the maze yet? I would not suggest going inside unless you have an excellent sense of direction. I always get lost in there myself.” Lowering her voice, she whispered: “Where will we go when we leave the snowball fight? Do you have a house in London?”