by Clee, Adele
“We should have checked the house before charging outdoors,” the doctor added, determined to air his frustration.
In this instance, he had a valid point.
Finlay thought back to the figure in the window signalling to someone outside. Perhaps the plan was to have them all head to the woods at night so the stranger could gain access to the house.
Panic flared.
“Does she always come to the deadwood when sleepwalking?”
“Blent found her here twice.” Sophia struggled to remain focused, her nervous gaze kept drifting beyond the clearing. “And this is where she met the man who gave her the incantation bowl.”
Dr Goodwin’s dismissive snort sent a burst of white mist into the chilly air. “No doubt it was a poacher spinning a yarn to make sure she stayed at home. The hounds are bound to scare away wild animals.” He gestured to the remains of the campfire. “Or perhaps a vagrant is living in the woods. Either way, talk of witches and magical bowls will only add to her confusion.”
“And if she was sleepwalking, how did she remember meeting the man?” Finlay said, surprised to find he agreed with the doctor. “She was clear about who she’d met.”
That said, she had described the man as an angel.
Sophia frowned. “What are you saying?”
“This place and its stories feeds a wild imagination. If Jessica was sleepwalking, she likely invented the part about the angel.”
Might the angel be a metaphor for salvation? he wondered.
Was it Jessica’s way of asking to be freed from her prison?
“Then how do you account for the bowl?”
Finlay shrugged. “Perhaps she found it here. Herbalists roam this area. The bowl could be nothing more than a decorative object used to carry their bounty.”
Either way, they needed to search the house. It wouldn’t surprise him to find Jessica asleep in bed. It was time he stopped acting like a wounded soul, behaved more like the man who tackled cases with strength, courage and unwavering resolve.
“We shall return to Blackborne.” Finlay captured Sophia’s hand. He did not want her traipsing through the woods with Dr Goodwin. And he wanted both men to know he cared for the woman shivering at his side.
“Shall I continue on with the hounds, sir?” Blent asked.
“Follow the path for half a mile. If you fail to find a scent return to the herb garden and begin again there. Dr Goodwin will accompany you.” Before the doctor could protest, Finlay turned on his heel and drew Sophia back towards the overgrown path.
“What makes you so certain Jessica isn’t roaming the woods?” Sophia said, clutching his hand as if she might crumple to the ground without his support.
“I’m not certain, but we darted out here without a second thought, leaving the house unattended.” It was a foolish mistake. A mistake he could not afford to make again. But deceivers manipulated the minds of the strongest men. “I made the obvious assumption.”
“A constable dealing with a missing person would start his search at the place of the last sighting. Neither of us thought to check Jessica’s bedchamber or follow the route down the servants’ stairs.”
“No.” His sigh mirrored his frustration. If he hoped to bring sense to the chaos, he had to master his emotions. “I don’t suppose Blent searched the stable block either.”
Were they being moved like pieces on a chessboard?
Had their opponent lured them into position?
The fiend was certainly playing a devious game.
They navigated the path back to the road, but the rattling of carriage wheels along the popular thoroughfare brought them to an abrupt halt ten yards from the stile.
Sophia pulled him behind the nearest tree trunk. “I suspect that’s the mail coach. In the dark, this road can be treacherous. Most people spend the night at The Wild Drake and tackle this stretch during daylight.”
It seemed like a reasonable explanation until the conveyance slowed and jerked to a stop. The carriage door flew open, and a gentleman vaulted to the ground. A mumbled conversation with the coachman ensued.
Finlay shuffled closer to Sophia, the nearness of her body rousing all the old memories. He pressed her back against the mossy tree trunk while peering at the carriage through the gloom.
“He’s approaching the gates to Blackborne,” Finlay whispered, his mouth an inch from Sophia’s ear. Oh, he was so achingly close the teasing scent of violets filled his head.
She touched her palm to his chest. “No one must know I own this house.”
Her misty white breath drew his gaze to her lips, lips tinged blue from the cold. One heated kiss would soon restore them to their pretty pink hue.
“What can he want?” she added.
Finlay shrugged.
When the inns were full, distinguished travellers often stopped at great houses looking for a bed for the night. The coachman might have pushed the horses too hard. An impending issue with a conveyance would be another valid reason for a person to stop at a private residence. Indeed, the well-dressed gent gripped the iron railings and shook the gates violently.
Were it not for Sophia’s need for secrecy, Finlay would give this devil the fright of his life. But instinct said to watch and wait.
Sophia slid her hand slowly up his chest. She cupped his cheek and forced him to look at her. “Do you recognise him?” she mouthed.
It took a moment for her question to penetrate his mind. Not because her words were inaudible, but because he wanted to warm the cold hand pressed against his cheek, wanted to caress the wisps of blonde hair brushing her chin.
Something sparked between them.
An age-old hunger that had never been sated.
An abiding love that had been buried beneath the depths of despair.
Desire swirled in his stomach. Wild. Intoxicating. The need to taste her left him staring at her mouth. One kiss would lead to one touch. One touch would lead to the frantic urge to strip naked and indulge their passions. It didn’t help that he pinned her to the tree. Trapped in an impenetrable fortress. He could hike up her skirts, push deep into her body and take what he needed, take what he’d coveted since the day their fathers became firm friends.
“He’s dressed like a gentleman,” he said, answering her question as lust raged in his veins. “But the carriage is unmarked. Shall I approach him?”
“No,” she whispered, clearly alarmed.
Finlay peered around the tree trunk just as the gentleman whirled around to face the woods. Had he heard their urgent whispers? Was this the stranger bearing gifts? Had he lured Jessica from the house, ready to bundle her into his carriage?
The gentleman moved behind his vehicle and strode towards the stile.
Finlay shot back behind the tree, his breathing ragged. His rising panic had nothing to do with fear—he welcomed death, for it would bring lasting peace. No. The need to protect Sophia and Jessica caused his trepidation.
Unaware of the danger, Sophia opened her mouth to speak. He could have used his finger to silence her, but in a rare moment of weakness, he pressed his lips to hers in an unexpected kiss.
Chapter 7
Shock rendered her frozen.
Sophia might have believed she was dreaming. Many nights, she had woken in a sweat, panting Finlay’s name while desire pulsed in her core. Many nights, she had quickly closed her eyes, desperate to return to the moment of bliss. Disappointment always followed.
“Hush,” he whispered against her mouth. “Don’t move.”
Don’t move?
Instinct urged her to slip her tongue between the seam of his lips. A deep exploration would reap treasures untold. And yet just the warmth of his lips, the tenderness in his touch, nourished her soul.
Muscular thighs held her pinned to the tree. There wasn’t the width of a silk thread between them. Finlay’s broad chest swamped her slight frame. Mother Mary! How she loved this man. How she longed to take him into her body, to ride him hard until he cried her
name.
If only he could forgive himself for not escaping his hellhole sooner. If only he could forgive himself for Hannah’s untimely death. Forgive her for not waiting.
Was that why he had no desire to rekindle their relationship? And yet his lips were touching hers now. A week ago, she would never have thought it possible.
Kiss me, Finlay.
Kiss me like you used to—hot and wicked.
But again, fate robbed her of happiness.
Finlay drew back. He peered around the tree trunk while keeping her locked in his masculine prison. A frown marred his brow as he narrowed his gaze. “Wait. He’s leaving.”
With love and lust burning in her veins, she had almost forgotten about the mysterious stranger, almost forgotten about Jessica. It wasn’t like her to be so thoughtless, not where her sister was concerned.
“Do you know who he is?” she managed to say, dreading the moment Finlay pulled away from her completely, for it would feel as if she were losing him all over again.
“It’s impossible to identify him properly in the dark. He’s tall and blonde with side whiskers trimmed to a point below the hollow of his cheeks. Young, judging by the fashionable cut of his coat.”
“Good Lord. You’re describing Fitzroy Adair.”
Blind panic seized her throat. What was Fitzroy doing at Blackborne? It couldn’t be a coincidence. The road led to Cornwall, not Brighton or Bath. Once the fop discovered her secret, he would use the information to drive her out of Portland Street. Not that she’d spent much time at her London home of late.
“He must have followed you from town.” Her voice quavered. “He must—”
“No one followed me here. I took every precaution.”
“Then how has he found me now?”
“Wait.” Finlay cocked an ear.
The creak of carriage wheels became a violent rattle as the vehicle gathered momentum. A whip-crack rent the air, as did the coachman’s muffled commands.
Finlay faced her, his mouth so close temptation writhed in her belly. “The devil’s gone, but we shouldn’t linger.”
Not linger? Then why did he still hold her captive? Why did he stare at her lips as if starved to the point of madness?
“He’ll be back.” A rush of emotion brought tears to her eyes. “Fitzroy takes pleasure in controlling me. He will have doctors certify Jessica insane, and there’s nothing I can do to protect her.”
Finlay gritted his teeth. “I’ll kill him before I let that happen.” He spoke with such vehemence she didn’t doubt his word. She would never doubt his word.
“Tell me what to do, Finlay.” A tear trickled down her cheek, and he wiped it away with his thumb. “Am I wrong to keep her hidden here?”
“I’m hardly qualified to know what’s best. I’ve made mistakes.”
“We both have.”
“No doubt we’ll make more.”
“No doubt.”
Their panted breaths caressed in the cold night air.
“Do you remember the last time we were alone together in the woods?” she said. They had escaped the family picnic to stroll, to kiss, to touch each other intimately amid a white blanket of snowdrops.
“We stood beneath the ancient broad oak and pledged our troth.”
“Faithfulness and fidelity, that’s what we swore.” And like a fickle fool, she had broken her promise within months of learning he was dead. “Forgive me. I should have waited. I should never have given up hope.”
“And I shouldn’t have been foolish enough to trust a man who took bribes for a living. Had I escaped my prison earlier—”
“I ruined everything.”
“You did what you thought was right.”
She hung her head. Why was life so complicated? That said, she was more fortunate than most and had managed to keep Jessica hidden all these years. Should she not count her blessings?
Finlay gripped her chin and forced her to look at him. “You will save Jessica, and you will be happy again. This tree might not be a four-hundred-year-old oak that has defied the odds, but I pledge to do everything in my power to help you.”
“And I shall be forever in your debt, Finlay.”
“You owe me nothing.”
They stared at each other for so long another tear trickled down her nose and landed on her chin.
Finlay traced her lower lip with his thumb. “Don’t cry.”
He studied her mouth, his gaze so hot her body burned. When he angled his head, she knew he might kiss her. Anticipation sent her stomach lurching. It took every effort to wait, to keep her greedy hands by her sides and let him take his time.
“One kiss cannot hurt,” he muttered before capturing her mouth.
Oh, how wrong could a man be?
The feel of his mouth moving seductively over hers was like the sweetest pleasure, the sharpest pain. Intense hunger consumed every thought, every feeling. She kept her arms pinned to her sides, frightened to touch him lest he come to his senses. Desire was her constant companion when in Finlay Cole’s company. But the physical ache was unbearable.
Jessica was right. The need to devour every inch of him, to gorge on every morsel, thrummed in Sophia’s veins. How she wished she could throw caution to the wind and just love him.
But then he snatched his mouth from hers and frowned. “Forgive me. It’s clear this isn’t what you—”
She didn’t give him a chance to finish speaking. Did he not know she longed to ravage him senseless? Did he not know her every thought and action stemmed from a need not to hurt him again?
Sophia threw her arms around his neck, came up on her toes and claimed his mouth in a desperate frenzy. She didn’t care that his beard prickled her skin, or that the strange presence lingered in the woods.
Something shifted within him.
Restraint’s bindings fell away.
Finlay slipped his arm around her waist, capturing her in a crushing embrace. She had forgotten how wonderful it felt to be cradled by this magnificent man. The exotic scent of his cologne—a compelling combination of spice and cedarwood—teased her nostrils, teased her sex. The heat of his body seeped into every cold, lonely corner of her heart.
Hold me, Finlay.
Never let go.
A husky growl rumbled in his throat as he traced his tongue across her bottom lip and teased his way into her mouth. His warm tongue slipped over hers with tender caresses, a seductive mating that soon became an insatiable need to plunder.
She pushed her hands inside his greatcoat and gripped his firm buttocks, sinking her fingers into his flesh as he thrust so wildly into her mouth she could barely breathe. He rocked his hips against her with a carnality that said their joining would be explosive.
Take what you want, Finlay.
Take what you need.
Take me any way you please.
Their pleasurable moans ripped through the stillness. Lust’s coil wound tighter. Oh, just the thought of having Finlay Cole spreading her wide, filling her full, almost made her climax.
But the rattle of an approaching carriage doused desire’s flames.
Finlay tore his mouth away, leaving her gasping, wanting, deprived. Still, his heaving chest and glazed eyes proved a wondrous sight to behold. Would he have made love to her against the tree trunk? Not knowing would lead to sleepless nights in the week to come.
The carriage slowed, but continued on.
Finlay stole a glance at the vehicle. “It’s the same carriage that stopped at the gate,” he said, “though it’s heading back to London.”
They stood in silence as their breathing slowed and the sound of creaking carriage wheels faded into the distance. Finlay looked at her numerous times but said nothing.
They should discuss the kiss, but she sensed he needed time to process what had occurred. Any conversation would be futile. Besides, they were supposed to be finding Jessica, not seeking ways to reignite their passion.
“We should hurry back to the house before Fitz
roy finds the hidden entrance to Blackborne,” she said, the mere notion chilling her blood.
Would there ever be a time when she wasn’t afraid?
Would there ever be an end to this nightmare?
Finlay stepped back and offered his hand. The gesture seemed so natural now it brought a flicker of hope for the future.
They returned to the house the way they came. Anne met them upon their arrival and confirmed that Jessica was not in her chamber. Mrs Friswell had conducted a thorough search, too, and delivered the same depressing news.
“We should check the gardens, the stable block,” Finlay said in the measured tones of an enquiry agent, not the dulcet tones of an enthusiastic lover. “Then we’ll follow the path into the woods, the one I used when I arrived.”
Jessica wasn’t hiding in the stables, nor was she loitering near the cottage or kennels. She wasn’t in the barn or sitting on the moat edge, dangling her feet and skimming stones.
“We should check the summerhouse before we enter the woods again,” she said, directing him to the gravel path leading to the gardens.
He followed her, though seemed pensive. And so it came as no surprise when he declared, “I have something to say, Sophia, though I doubt you’ll approve.”
Was this where he insisted the kiss had been a mistake? It couldn’t happen again. Nothing good would come from rediscovering feelings long since buried.
“Then you may as well say it and get it over with.”
“Very well.” Finlay sighed. “It’s not safe here. We should return to London tomorrow and take Jessica with us. You think keeping her at Blackborne is for the best, but I disagree.”
A rush of elation stole her voice. There was something possessive about the way he said we and us, and he’d not lamented the erotic kiss they’d shared. But fear slipped into her heart like wind between the plaster cracks.
“If I take Jessica to London, Fitzroy will discover the truth within a matter of days. He’s already found his way here, and I suspect his recent demands are merely a ploy to distract my attention.”
“Recent demands?”