He attempted to rally. “I could not contemplate such a thing.”
“Piffle! Rest assured that the prospect is not at all without appeal to me. In fact, I shall make the sacrifice with alacrity. Struan, I hesitate to ask you this, but there is a certain urge I’m experiencing as I sit here … holding you.”
He rolled his head to one side. “Name it.” Could a man die of pleasure—and frustration excruciating enough to bring him near to madness?”
“Oh, no. You will think me most odd.”
“Name it. Now!”
“I shall not name it. I shall simply do it. If you consider it unsuitable, you will let me know. If not, I shall have saved myself the embarrassment of risking ridicule for my words.”
He felt her warm breath the instant before she slipped her moist lips over the head of his penis and began to draw him into her mouth.
“Oh—my—God!” Struan sank his fingers into her hair. “Oh, yes. Yes. Yes!”
He did not stop her to ask how she knew that what she did would shortly bring the relief she so desperately wished to afford him.
Justine’s head moved over his lap. He looked down at her red-tinged dark hair spilling over his belly, mingling with the hair at his own crotch.
In the last instant, he attempted to draw back. Too late. His release came. Panting, he fell back, dimly awaiting her cries of horror. Instead, he found himself covered by the weight of her soft body, her breasts pressed to his chest, her face buried beneath his chin.
“Justine,” he breathed. “How … What made you do that?”
“You liked it, didn’t you?”
“Oh, I liked it marvelously.”
“Well, today I considered the kisses when you put your tongue inside my mouth. They are a symbol of It, aren’t they?”
Fog clung to the edges of his mind. Concentration didn’t come easily. “Yes,” he said at last. “Yes, I suppose so.”
“Well, I decided there might be other ways in which pleasurable suggestions of the—the ultimate might be created. And I was right! You … That is, with the letting go of your … essence, shall we say, you are relieved of that painful swelling!”
Struan’s eyes snapped open. “Painful swelling?”
“Well—”
“You, dearest wife, promise to keep this simple husband forever entertained. There is much you have learned and much you have divined. And there is much you simply do not know.”
“But—”
“No. Now I will give you something new to write about.”
Leaving his breeches where they were, he changed places with his bright-brained darling. Depositing her upon the chair, he knelt where she had knelt—between her legs. He lifted her skirts, brushing away plucking hands that would have held cover over the scarred leg he’d already come to adore.
Without preamble, he bent to dart his tongue into already moist curls at the apex of her thighs.
“Struan! Struan, you will stop at once. You will … Aah!”
He smiled, breathing in the musky, utterly feminine scent of her. Holding apart plump little folds, he showed her another form of “symbolic” lovemaking.
Justine’s hips writhed, and he grinned—and tightened his belly against his own renewed arousal.
When she sought to clutch him with begging fingers, he concentrated his attention on the swollen nub that would release her need. Within seconds she threw herself forward over his back and he knew her nails would leave evidence of this adventure on his buttocks.
She made no complaint when he carried her—still tossed over his shoulder—to her chamber. With what remained of their clothing flung aside, he joined her in the blue-canopied bed. She snuggled beside him—replete, as he was replete.
“Have we given you more to write about, sweetness?” he asked gently.
“Oh, yes. Much more.”
“You enjoyed—”
“I loved what we did. How fortunate I am. Now I know there is more than one way to reach the ultimate with one’s husband.”
“Oh, yes.” Indeed. And this way would not cause him to live in fear for her life. He knew more than a small spear of guilt at what he contemplated. “Rest, my love. You must be tired, and I know I am.”
“Mmm. Very tired.”
“Sleep, then.” His problems were far from solved, but at least his encounter with the abbot had given him hope, and for now he would allow himself to enjoy this woman whom he loved. “Sleep very well.”
“Struan!” She sat so abruptly, he jumped. “My goodness, I became so engrossed I forgot.”
He stroked her back indulgently. “We will deal with Ella and Max’s education. And I will take Devlin North aside and tell him the way of things.”
“No, no. Not that. A woman came today. Looking for you.”
Exhaustion threatened to take him. “A woman?”
“Yes. She said you promised she could come to you at any time if she needed help. She is not of genteel birth, but is certainly a most pleasant soul. And she is in need, poor creature.”
He opened his eyes in the darkness. “What are you talking about?”
“Oh, she said it has been a long time since you last met. She has since married—to her dire regret, I’m certain. I know you will wish to fulfill your promise to her.”
Struan was awake now, and growing cold. “Where is this woman?”
“We put her in one of the freshly made-over rooms in the Grecian wing. Her gratitude was pathetic. I promised her that you would speak with her as soon as you returned. Then I forgot. Oh, dear.”
Struan rose to an elbow. “Did she give her name?”
“Of course. She is Mrs. Smith. And her husband is clearly a beastly person. Why, Struan, he has been beating her. She has bruises and old wounds.”
His clenching stomach unwound slightly. “She must have come to the wrong address. I know no Mrs. Smith.”
“Oh, but that is her married name. And she definitely knows you. Do you remember a lovely dark-haired woman called Glory?”
Chapter Twenty-two
“Dinna do it, Ellie. Please.” This Max was quite un-like himself. His freckles showed dark on his pale face and his green eyes shone with worry. “Caleb said there’s them as has a mind to kill us all.”
Ella fixed her new green velvet bonnet more firmly atop her smoothly coiled hair. Tonight she must appear composed and mature. Tonight she would take steps guaranteed to shape the rest of her life.
“Say you won’t go!”
She turned sharply on the stool before her glass. “Hush, Max. You’ll have Caleb hammering upon the door, or sending Mairi to check on us.”
He pursed his lips and set down the tiny sand-colored puppy Devlin North had brought. “I’m goin’ t’shout. I’m goin’ t’give ye away for the mad one ye are.”
Ella crooked a long forefinger, signalling for Max to come near. When he stood before her in the oppressively paneled room, she got up and looked directly into his eyes. “There are things you do not know, Max. Dangerous things that threaten us. The longer we remain here and do nothing, the greater the danger becomes.”
His mouth fell open.
“Why do you think Papa has arranged for us to be here in the castle guarded like two criminals?”
Max shook his head.
“Why do you think these particular rooms were chosen—rooms with no windows, and doors so heavy an army couldn’t breach them?”
“Nasty rooms wi’ weapons on the walls,” Max said, although those weapons were confined to the so-called sitting room. “A dungeon wi’ furniture in it.”
“A fine description. And we’re here because we are in danger. There is someone who wants to kill us.”
“No,” Max whispered. “That was just a story t’make me do what Caleb wanted.”
“You are wrong.” Ella brought her nose close to his. “You have been so busy with your stories that you have failed to see how we are in the middle of a great intrigue. We were allowed to sleep at the Mercers�
�� because no one would think to look for us there. And our every move has been watched by people loyal to Papa just to ensure our safety.”
“Ye weren’t watched when ye rode around like a wild boy!” Max announced explosively. “Ye said as much. Ye spoke of doin’ as ye pleased all day. And I wasna watched either.”
“You were. You simply didn’t know it. And I lied. There, now you have the truth of it. I lied because I was unhappy and needed to pretend to myself that I was free. There was always someone watching over me.”
“Well … Well, then. Why? You tell me that, Ellie. Why would anyone want t’hurt two such as us who amount t’nothin’ between us? We’re no one and ye know it.”
Ella looked away. Abruptly, she sat upon the stool again. He was right, they were nothing, but she couldn’t bear to hear her own brother speak of himself in such a way. “Of course we are something. You are a very special person, a person with a brilliant future. You have a fine mind and it will be cultivated. And we have been fortunate. Papa loves us.”
“He’s not our papa. We dinna even know who our papa was.”
“I don’t care,” Ella said vehemently. “The viscount told us we were his children in all the ways that matter. And Lady Justine loves us, too. She told us as much.”
“Aye. D’you suppose Papa’s told her we’re not his bairns yet?”
“Ooh, Max, that mode of speech will not do if you are to move in Papa’s society.”
“I’m not to move in it,” Max said, but his lower lip trembled. “He’s not told her, has he? And when he does, she won’t love us anymore. Rough bairns brought up wi’ travelin’ players. And me a pickpocket in London. And you—”
“Stop! Stop it, Max. That’s all in the past.” And she would not allow herself to think of it.
“She’ll not love us, I tell ye.”
“She will,” Ella said fiercely, taking her brother’s hands in hers. “You listen to me, Max. Good people are good people, and Lady Justine is good. She would not know how to stop loving someone.”
“She’ll stop soon enough,” Max argued. “She will.”
“No, she won’t. She loves Papa and he loves us. She loved us before they were wed. Now we will be even more important to her.”
“And what if they have bairns o’ their own?”
The question had circled Ella’s mind a thousand times in recent weeks. “I still say we’ll never be turned aside. Learn to trust. And don’t stop me from doing what I intend to do. Listen carefully and do as I say.”
“But where are ye goin”?” Max implored. “It’s almost night, Ellie. I’m scairt fer ye.”
Impulsively, she drew him into her arms and hugged him. “Thank you. But don’t be. We’ve been through a great deal, you and I. Tonight I’m going to do something to help us both, but, most of all, to help Papa. Max, I believe Papa is in terrible trouble.”
He moved only far enough away to see her face. “How d’ye know?”
“It’s obvious. Think. There’s not a soul who would want to do anything to us. They must want to do something to him, and he’s afraid we’ll be hurt as well. Mayhap by kidnapping. I heard Mairi talking to Caleb, and they were whispering about the lodge being guarded to keep Lady Justine safe.”
“Did they say why?” Max sounded desperate.
Ella sighed and ruffled his hair. “No. I don’t think anyone but Papa knows. They were saying they would do anything to help Papa, and they wished they knew what they were guarding against. Mairi thinks Lady Justine’s lovely, and she’s worried because she thinks someone should tell her she’s in danger.”
Max clutched her hands. “Don’t go, Ellie. Don’t leave me.”
“I have to.” The thought of his being alone and frightened drowned her in guilt, but she couldn’t continue to do nothing. “I’m going to lock my chamber door on this side. It may be quite a long time before anyone tries to come in. With fortune, I’ll have returned before they do. But, if not, you tell them I’ve asked to be left in peace. Say I’m feeling contemplative.”
“Con … Contem …”
“Say I need time alone to think. The most important thing is for you to attract as little attention as possible.”
“But ye are leavin’ the castle this night?”
“I am.”
“And ye’ve a journey ahead o’ ye?”
“I have.” And she wished her stomach didn’t curl with fear at the thought.
“Can I come?”
“No.”
He heaved a huge sigh and retrieved the puppy. “Verra well. I’ll do as ye ask.”
“Good. Without your help this couldn’t work. I have to rely upon you. I must go now.”
Max frowned. “How can I tell them ye’re thinkin’ and wantin’ t’be alone if I’m in here?”
“You won’t be. You’ll be in your own chamber. Or in our sitting room.”
“But ye said your door would be locked on the inside.”
Ella stood up, flung a heavy cape over the shoulders of her green riding habit, and picked up her gloves. “Off with you.” She opened the door and waited for him to go into the sitting room.
He passed her and said, “But ye told me it’d be locked—”
“On the inside? It will be.”
She felt him leave her.
After she’d explained about Mrs. Smith he’d grown quiet and distant. Then he’d pretended to sleep. She’d known he was only pretending, but she did likewise and when her breathing was slow and deep he’d slipped from the bed and begun gathering his clothes. An awful premonition had come to her.
She was already certain Robert Mercer and his friends had been watching over the lodge to keep her safe. Caleb Murray was watching over Max and Ella to keep them safe. His threats to Max of dire danger had been real threats.
Something was dreadfully wrong.
Something dreadful threatened Struan, and he feared it might touch those he loved.
He was waiting for whatever it was to come to him.
Could she have let the danger in? Was Mrs. Smith part of that danger?”
“Struan!”
His shadowy form stopped. “Go back to sleep.”
“What are you doing?”
“I’m restless.”
“Come back to bed and let me help you.”
The silhouette of his raised jaw showed sharply against moonlight through the windows. “Oh, how tempting you are. There is a matter I must attend first. Sleep, my sweet, and I’ll return to you soon.”
He went without another word.
To the castle. He would go to the castle to look for more of those letters—and to ensure his children were safe, of course.
She settled back onto the pillows and closed her eyes.
There were noises. Shuffling, scraping—cracks. The night had so many sounds, and she was entirely too sensitive to every one of them.
A current of air passed over her face, and her eyes snapped open. “Hannah!” With a thundering heart, she pushed up to her elbows.
The door to her chamber stood wide open.
“Hannah. Are you there?”
Gradually the door began to swing shut.
Outside, light flickered, casting the wavering shadow of a figure.
For an instant, Justine saw the glitter of candlelight on staring eyes. Then the light went out.
There was always a vague hope that some other woman might have the first name of Glory. Whatever. He must be alone to decide how to proceed if this should prove to be the same creature who had all but ruined his life.
With his shirt flying behind him and his jacket over his arm, Struan ran up the steps to the Pavilion bridge and strode across. In the Grecian wing there was someone who said he’d promised to help her if she was desperate. That did not have to be the Glory Willing of his cursed past. Logic assured him it was indeed that person.
Earlier he’d tried to persuade the abbot to come to the lodge with him. If the identity of the visitor proved to be as feared, S
truan would go in search of Abbot John and beg him to come here.
He entered the anteroom to his chamber and halted.
Dressed in demure gray, Glory Willing—or Mrs. Smith— sat in one of his grandfather’s serpent-laden Egyptian chairs. Her back was straight, her hands, like her feet, placed precisely together. She wore a thin cloak and a gray bonnet. Only her eyes, her great black eyes, moved. They sought his, and what he saw there belied the modest picture she made.
He threw his jacket on a chest and began buttoning his shirt. “What do you want here?” he asked shortly. “Let’s have it quickly and be done with it.”
“I’m sorry,” she said.
He paused in the act of pushing his shirt inside his breeches. “Sorry because you made a weakened man drunk and proceeded to seduce him?”
“Sorry,” she murmured. “I regret having to cause you inconvenience.”
“A little late, wouldn’t you say? Wouldn’t you say it was already late when you screamed that I had ruined you and then set about extorting money from me for years?”
“You paid willingly enough. You knew you bore blame.”
“But I no longer bore blame once your livelihood became assured.”
“Assured?”
“By your marriage.”
She pursed her lips.
“But you and your husband decided you would find a way to keep getting money out of me, didn’t you?”
“Taking your money wasn’t my idea,” she murmured. “It was his. I didn’t want any part of it.”
Struan circled her slowly. “Is that a fact? Well, well. When I saw you in Bath—when was that, more than a year since? You did not appear threadbare and regretful then. But, of course, you were still receiving the money I sent, weren’t you?”
Her expression became startled. “I did not see you in Bath.”
“But I saw you. You were getting into a carriage. Your finery caught the eye of many a man and woman. I noted your wedding ring then and your laughter—with your companion.”
“What companion?” she asked sharply.
“I could not see him—only hear him. But I assume he was either your husband or your lover.”
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