The Courtship - Catherine Coulter [3]
Dead silence.
“Oh, dear, you are scarlet to your hairline, Alexandra.”
“I have bitten him, Helen, I have. My bites simply take place in a different context. There is no Gazette lying about.”
“A context that Douglas has provided?”
“Yes. You know, it’s just that Douglas has only to look at me, perhaps give me a small touch anywhere with his hand or his mouth, and I lose every shred of thought. I puddle right on the floor, directly in front of him. It just does not stop, Helen. Help me. Oh, dear, what if he is out there, listening? Now he knows what power he wields over me.”
“Trust me, he already knows. Now, you’re right, of course. If it had been Douglas, he would be standing right in front of us, laughing his head off. But then, perhaps he would have let you lead him off to begin disciplining him this very night—that is, if he didn’t decide to discipline you first.”
Alexandra sighed.
“Goodness, you mean it? You’re serious here, Alexandra? Doesn’t Douglas ever let you have control? Eight years of one-sided marital sorts of things? From everything I’ve read, this isn’t good. The Italians, especially, believe that participation in lovemaking should be balanced. You must pull yourself together.”
“It’s difficult once Douglas turns his attention on me. I would like to read what the Italians have to say about this.”
“I will lend you a treatise on it. Now, you cannot allow Douglas always to discipline you first. You must focus your mind, Alexandra.”
Alexandra’s eyes nearly crossed. She shuddered delicately. “Douglas has never said anything at all about discipline. I’m sure he’s never done any to me.”
Helen laughed and patted her cheek. “From everything I’ve read, I’ll wager Douglas already performs a lover’s standard discipline on you and you don’t even realize it. You’re just having fun.”
“Do you really think so? I wonder what specific sorts of things that Douglas enjoys with me one could call discipline? Perhaps I shall ask him.”
“Or perhaps not, at least not yet.”
“Whatever he does, it’s true that I do sometimes forget to think,” Alexandra said, then squared her shoulders, “but that’s another problem, one I will have to solve.” Her shoulders squared even more and her magnificent bosom achieved new prominence. “I will have to learn how to retain my own control if I want to have a chance of controlling Douglas. I will have to have a specific goal in mind, a course that I will have to follow. I will get the upper hand of Douglas. The brink of madness—yes, Helen, that is where I want to dispatch Douglas. You must tell me specifically what I am to do.”
Helen looked down at her fingernails a moment. She knew she should keep her mouth shut, but she couldn’t help herself. She said on a deep, wistful sigh, overflowing with exquisite memories, knowing that Alexandra would be enraged within moments, “Ah, even when I was fifteen and I first saw Douglas and fell in love with him, I knew instinctively that he wouldn’t be a clod. I knew he would excel, and I wanted to be the female he chose to excel upon. Such a pity that it wasn’t meant to be.” She sighed again, a sad, forlorn sigh.
Helen watched beneath her lashes as Alexandra’s eyes narrowed remarkably, and her voice turned mean and low. “Helen, I will not tell you again. You will forget those early years of infatuation with Douglas. You will forget those tender feelings you cherished for him when you were too young to realize what was what.”
“Yes,” Helen said at her most humble, her head bent to show how contrite she was, “I will try.” She hoped Alexandra couldn’t hear the laughter in her voice.
Lord Beecham heard the laughter. And then he realized that here he was, a man of immense savoir faire, hiding behind huge green palm fronds, hanging on these women’s every word. He hadn’t yet seen the disciplinarian, but he could see Alexandra Sherbrooke now. She was looking around, just a bit apprehensively, her fingers splayed over her incredible bosom. It was too bad Douglas insisted she keep all that lovely white flesh more covered than not. It wasn