Mind Diver: Prologue

Mind Diver: PROLOGUE

London, 1765

"You want me to do what?" Taylor Ashworth hissed as she turned her face to the blond man strolling at her side.

"Keep your voice down," returned her escort, Edward Alywinth, his voice equally sibilant. His face reddened as he clasped Taylor's arm, slender as a flower stem, and gave it a gentle but firm shake. Glancing from side to side, he pulled her behind a high hedge. "May I remind you that we are not alone in walking this path?"

Vauxhall Gardens was teeming with party-goers, many simply promenading through the triumphal arches and gazing lingeringly at the paintings hung there. Others darted like bright fish in their brocades and velvets down the tree-lined walks toward the rotunda, stealing into private booths near the orchestra where they might carry on to the strains of Handel's "Water Musick." Still others emerged from the lodges having just supped a late night meal, the men patting their stomachs in exaggerated contentment while the women laughed daintily behind their painted, ivory-handled fans.

"How dare you make such a decision without consulting me first?" Taylor said, jerking her arm from Edward's grasp and nudging his hip roughly with the tip of the pannier beneath her skirts. "What possessed you to promise my hand to another man? Don't I have any say in this matter at all? I am not mercantile to be bartered for--"

"Don't get in a pelter," Edward interrupted, sitting her down upon a marble bench. "I can, of course, explain everything. It's all very simple: I need capital to get a shipping company started and your dear Papa can provide it. All you need do is marry my titled partner."

"You want me to marry the Earl of Hawklyn?" Taylor laughed, shaking her head as a few syrup-colored curls loosened, nearly tumbling down her neck. "'Lord Bookworm' as my husband? You can't be serious; he'd bore me to death. Better that you steal the money from Papa!"

But Edward was serious; she saw it in the grim set of his handsome face. He really had struck a deal with her father, one that must have appealed greatly to the wealthy merchant. She always knew her Papa had longed to marry her off to a royal, and had taken great pains to have her introduced to every earl and marquis in sight. This was not especially difficult, for his wealth opened enough doors amongst the ton to allow Taylor the opportunity to peruse the prospects. None of the be-wigged and powdered royals ever struck her fancy, however, for they often appeared excessively vain and devoid of real passion.

Only Edward Alywinth, a nearly penniless commoner, had the facility to stir a quick broth of aroused excitement within her. She liked the feel of his aggressive hands as they pressed insistently upon her flesh whenever they were alone together. She'd never given herself to him completely, for she had assumed they'd one day be wed. Taylor was reckless in her passions, yet not when it came to devotion to tradition. Though she longed for that final intimacy between a man and woman, she would not lay beneath Edward until the banns were posted and they had exchanged vows before God and her Papa.

"If you hadn't squandered your grandfather's inheritance," Taylor said, angrily seizing the collar of his gold brocade coat and nearly twisting the cravat askew, "you wouldn't have to barter me off to the highest bidder!"

"Now, now--how'd you think I was able to meet Lord Hawklyn?" Edward said, his voice a low growl. "My grandfather's inheritance was nothing more than a sizable crumb--it wouldn't have been sufficient enough to keep me in good pocket and start a shipping company. I went to your father and asked for your hand in the proper way, but was summarily refused. He informed me that he'd always planned for his only daughter to marry into the landed gentry, and no manner of argument could sway his decision. So," Edward paused, sighing sharply as he slid closer to her on the bench, "I offered to match you up with a suitable royal, quite simply."

"And so you proceeded to empty your pockets at Brooks playing whisk and faro whilst trying to draw an unsuspecting member of the peerage into your scheme?"

"The important thing, dear Taylor," Edward said, smiling as he traced the back of a forefinger from her ear to her chin, "is that I was eventually successful. We'll be together in matrimony soon enough, I promise you."

Taylor had turned her face away from Edward's smug grin as soon as she'd felt his light touch, her rosebud mouth puckered in a moue of irritation. But she turned to confront him with widened eyes as the implication behind his last sentence soaked through her indignation. It both frightened and intrigued her. "What do you mean, exactly: 'we'll be together in matrimony soon enough'?" she asked, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.

Edward rose and took a few steps toward the front of the hedge. His hands clasped casually behind his back, Edward looked from left to right, his head tilted slightly as if to detect the slightest whisper. Satisfied that no others were within earshot, he returned to sit upon the bench and cupped Taylor's slim jaw in his hands and drew her startled face so close to his that their noses nearly touched.

"You know well what I mean," Edward whispered urgently. "Accidents happen all the time. I knew a gentleman who'd gone duck hunting with his fellows and had had the misfortune to bring his wife along. She'd pouted and pouted until he finally relented and let her get off a shot once the ducks were scattered into the air. Well, needless to say, the musket was more than the poor young thing could handle. You see, she accidentally spurred her mount and fired the musket at the same time. The unfortunate fellow got in the way when he tried to keep her from falling off the horse. Pity really, he was the only one I could ever win a game of faro from."

Taylor's eyes widened once again and her mouth opened in a silent gasp as the horror of the innuendo passed across her face. Then her shoulders began to bob slightly and low laughter bubbled within her throat; she clapped a delicate hand over her mouth and began to giggle beneath it hysterically. "How absolutely absurd! Surely you can't be serious--you don't mean for me to..."

"Get hold of yourself, " Edward said through clenched teeth. "I am not asking you to do this on your wedding night. We'll have to wait until the business is well-established and you've been his wife long enough to play the grieving widow convincingly."

"But--but," Taylor stammered, "what if we're caught? We'll be swinging side by side from Tyburn Tree with all of London looking on with their pasty faces!" Unconsciously she slid a hand up to her throat, as if to feel for invisible rope burns.

"Not if it's done properly, my frightened dove," Edward crooned as he gently stroked her quivering chin with his fingertips. "And your Papa would never let you hang, besides; with his lucre, he's got more than enough clout with the King's Bench. So, my lovely girl, you will do this for me, won't you?"

Taylor felt the warm, moist trail of his breath as his lips skimmed along the bow-like curve of her collarbone and up the smooth bend of her neck. Her eyelids fluttered closed like the beating wings of a butterfly and she loosed a soft, broken moan as Edward's teeth began to gently prick an earlobe. Silently he pressed his mouth against the base of her neck, his slowly weaving head stroking and tingling her hairline. Sighing deeply, Taylor leaned her face over his shoulder and brought one hand up to his neck, while her other arm encircled his waist.

"You'll do it," Edward whispered from beneath the soft canopy of her curls. Then he faced her suddenly, his palms splayed upon her warm cheeks. A reckless grin split his face before he pressed his mouth upon hers with savage force.

Taylor didn't resist him--indeed she couldn't, for this was what she wanted and always expected of him. She could no more resist the soft, probing tongue within her mouth than she could resist breathing. Without looking she felt his hands cupping the undersides of her breasts through the heavy damask of her gown and the ribbed corset beneath it. The sensation of Edward's touch mixed headily with a night air scented with drifts of the malty bitterness of oak and beech trees, and the aroma of roasted meats wafting from the lodges nearby.

Reluctantly, Taylor placed both palms flat upon Edward's chest and pushed at him with all the strength she could muster, thus breaking the spell he'd cast. Blinking rapidly, she gazed up at his trusting face, sensing that he would know her answer before she could even give it.

Pulling one of her hands free from his chest, Edward placed a small object into her opened palm. Her darting gaze found a tiny gold-filigreed battersea box resting in the smooth cradle of her palm, the painted image of her face smiling demurely up at her.

"This is the last fine thing I was able to purchase with what was left of my pitiable inheritance," Edward said solemnly despite the confident smile that remained fixed upon his face.

"All right," she said quickly, her puffed décolletage rising and falling with each excited breath. "I'll do whatever you wish only...don't leave me to do it alone."

Edward Alywinth's confident, smiling face assured her he would not.