It took her some time to undress and slip into her thin cotton bedgown. With her father’s diminishing income she had not had the luxury of a maid for many years and generally did not regret it, but tonight all she wanted to do was to lie down and sleep and she did not relish the thought of tidying away all her clothes. However, she knew that if she did not smooth her gloves flat and shake out her gown before folding it away carefully in the linen press, then they would be sadly creased when next required. Even when all her clothes were put away, Juliana had to unpin her hair and brush out the tangles. She snuffed the candles around the room and sat on her bed with only the bedroom candle still alight as she pulled the brush through her hair with long, even strokes, allowing her mind to wander. In the space of one day, she had known raging anger at Lady Frances, despair at the thought of leaving Blackthorpe, then elation when Damon had come to ask her to stay. But even her happiness had been short-lived. Now, with Lady Ormiston’s appearance, there was a new fear gnawing at her. If Sir Richard’s suspicions were correct, then Lady Ormiston was a dangerous enemy to be carefully watched. But even if she was not the enemy the gentlemen considered, she was very beautiful, and she had been Damon’s lover once before. To Juliana’s inexperienced eye, Lady Ormiston seemed intent upon reviving that relationship.
The brush snagged on a tangle of hair and Juliana gently teased the bristles through until the brush ran freely again, but the little doubt nagging in her head was not so easily smoothed away. Damon was a strong-willed, passionate man, and she had no doubt that he could withstand Veronique’s blandishments, should he wish to do so.
‘Aye, there’s the problem,’ she muttered to herself. ‘What if he does not wish to resist her? Oh this is ridiculous!’ Juliana tossed her hairbrush on to the dressing table and scrambled into bed. She blew out the candle and tried to make herself comfortable, but although she had entered the room feeling almost too tired to undress, now sleep eluded her. She longed for Damon, wanted to feel his arms around her, wanted him to kiss away all her doubts. If he had knocked on her door at that moment, she would have welcomed him into her arms and into her bed without a thought for the consequences. But he did not come, and she tossed and turned in the darkness. After an hour she gave up the struggle and felt around in the dark for her tinderbox.
Not only did the occupants of the east wing have to do without ladies’ maids, she thought resentfully, they also had to manage without a personal closet. On her tour of the house, Mrs Plumstead had proudly shown Juliana the guest chambers, each with their own servant’s room and a separate closet, but the schoolroom wing did not have such luxuries. The nursery rooms up under the eaves were equipped with a closet of their own, but Juliana’s suite of rooms had not been similarly improved and her nearest privy was in a recess on the far side of the schoolroom. Preferable to a chamber pot under the bed, perhaps, but not ideal. With a sigh she slipped out of bed and picked up her lighted candle. At least it was warm enough for her to make the trip without her wrap.
Juliana opened her door and padded along the silent corridor to the little closet. A wind had sprung up, rattling the windows and whistling through the old house, but Juliana paid no heed. Old buildings were noisy places; she had even made it a game with the children to find all the creaking floor-boards in the long corridors. Juliana reached the closet, taking care not to let the door bang and rouse the children sleeping above. She was just as careful when she left a few minutes later, quietly closing the door and retracing her steps. As she turned into the main corridor she gave a gasp and nearly dropped her candle when she saw a ghostly white figure hovering before her.
Chapter Twenty-Three
‘L-Lady Ormiston!’
Holding up her candle and stepping closer, Juliana realised that the floating effect was caused by the diaphanous folds of the lady’s fine muslin wrap swaying around her feet. Veronique’s candle wavered.
‘I could not sleep, and lost my way.’ She stepped aside into the schoolroom and held her candle aloft. ‘Is this where you hold your lessons for the little ones? How charming.’
‘Yes, madam.’ Juliana followed her into the room.
‘Oh—so many toys.’ Veronique moved closer to the shelves, casting the candle’s feeble glow over each in turn. ‘But some of the shelves are empty—why is this?’
‘The carpenter has been fitting new windows to this room,’ explained Juliana, watching her. ‘Not everything has yet been put back.’
‘It must be difficult, Miss Wrenn, to make sure all the children’s playthings are suitable for them. I suppose you must know every toy that they own?’
‘I had not considered it.’
Lady Ormiston’s free hand crept inside her wrap.
‘Well, consider it now, Miss Wrenn. I would like—’ She stopped.
Above the keening wind was the sound of footsteps on the boards, a heavy-booted tread. Light flickered in the corridor and the next moment Major Collingham stood in the doorway, dressed only in his shirt, buckskins and top boots.
‘Is anything wrong, ladies?’ The light from the branched candlestick in his hand threw the angular planes of his face into strong relief, giving him a hawkish appearance. ‘I was in the stables checking on my horse and saw the light up here.’
The white shirt billowed over his broad shoulders, unconfined by even a waistcoat, and his body seemed to fill the doorway.
‘Lady Ormiston lost her way,’ murmured Juliana. She had not realised how tense she was until she tried to speak, and the effort rasped her dry throat.
‘So silly of me,’ confessed Veronique with a little laugh. ‘I could not sleep, and when I found myself up here, I was enchanted by all these reminders of childhood.’ She moved towards Major Collingham. ‘You will remember I told you, Damon, when I was a child in Paris during the Terror, we lost everything, my home, my nursemaid and my little friends.’ She delicately wiped a tear from her cheek. ‘Mon Dieu, those were dark days.’
‘Indeed they were, madam.’ He held out his handkerchief to her.
‘Merci. You are too kind.’
‘Dry your eyes now,’ said Damon. ‘Miss Wrenn will take you back to your room.’
Juliana opened her mouth to protest, met his fierce stare and closed it again. She did not understand this game, she certainly did not like it, but if Damon did not wish to challenge the lady, she could hardly do so. She moved towards the door.
‘Ma’am, if you are ready?’
As the Major stepped aside to let them pass, he caught Juliana’s arm.
‘Do not be alarmed if you meet one of the footmen on the stairs, I have asked Matthew to sleep at the foot of the nursery stairs tonight. Minna was looking a trifle feverish and I want someone on hand, should Nurse call for assistance.’
His tone was light, but there was no mistaking the message. Juliana nodded and went on her way, guiding Lady Ormiston back through the darkened house. They did not speak, and although Veronique dabbed at her eyes, she did not seem overwrought. At the door of the blue bedroom Juliana bade her goodnight, and when the door had closed again she began to make her way back along the empty corridor. She was about to step out onto the gallery when a door opened behind her and she heard her name called in a fierce whisper.
She turned to see Damon, his figure black against the glow of candlelight from the room behind him.
‘We cannot talk here. Step inside.’
Juliana hesitated.
‘This is my dressing room, Ju. You need go no farther.’
He stepped back and, gripping the candlestick a little tighter, she crossed the threshold into his apartment. As she passed him she realised Damon was wearing a brightly coloured dressing gown, the belt pulled tight and knotted at the waist. It enveloped him from neck to toe, covering those long limbs she found so unnerving.
The room was dark, the shutters had been closed across the window and the only light came from the two candles in a branched holder on a small side table. Outside their warm glow everythin
g was in shadow, the curtains, the panelling all robbed of their rich colours. Instinctively she moved towards the table, her own candle adding to the pool of light. The room smelled of brandy and spices. And man. It was a very masculine room. Damon’s room.
‘Veronique is safely back in her chamber?’ he asked, closing the door.
‘Yes. I saw her go inside. I doubt she will stir again tonight, knowing Matthew is on the stair.’
He grinned. ‘Yes. Not at all subtle, but I hope she has taken the hint.’
‘What does she want, Damon?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘But you know something,’ she persisted. ‘I can see it in your face. Please tell me.’
‘Very well.’ He walked to a daybed and sat down. ‘Come over here.’
The daybed was in a shadowy corner of the room, and Juliana took her candle with her, placing it on a nearby console table.
‘Afraid of the dark, Ju?’
He sounded amused.
‘No, sir,’ she replied calmly as she sat down beside him. ‘But I would like to see you.’
‘So you like to look at me.’
She took her bottom lip between her teeth to prevent a smile escaping her. ‘That is not what I meant.’
Damon put one arm around her shoulders and turned her towards him, tilting up her chin with his free hand. She put her hands against his chest, feeling the heavily embroidered silk beneath her fingers.
‘Damon, let me go or I shall have to move away.’
‘Don’t you like being in my arms?’
His voice had deepened suddenly and she felt the now-familiar fever coming over her. A shiver tingled through her spine.
‘No,’ she lied, trying to sound severe. ‘You were going to tell me what you suspect.’
With a sigh he let her go and threw himself back against the padded scroll of the daybed. One arm was lying along the backrest and Juliana sat up very straight, knowing that his fingers were only inches away from her.
‘Tell me,’ she repeated.
‘Very well. Richard was investigating a plot to free Bonaparte from St Helena. He had discovered that supporters in France were sending diamonds here to pay for a ship and enough men to storm the island. He was hoping to intercept the diamonds and catch the plotters, but he did not succeed, and those involved went to ground.’
‘But who would do such a thing? Surely no true Englishman—’
‘Of course not, but there are many in London who owe no allegiance to our country. Richard has his suspicions, but without proof he can do nothing.’
Juliana was thinking, a tiny frown creasing her brow.
‘Lady Ormiston,’ she breathed. She looked up, her eyes wide and dark. ‘Sir Richard suspects that she is involved, and that Leeson, as her lover, was drawn into her schemes.’
‘Well done, my love. You have your wits about you tonight.’
She brushed aside his approval. ‘From what you have told me, it was the obvious conclusion.’
‘And you are happy to think Veronique a villain?’
She felt her cheeks growing warm.
‘Well, yes,’ she said, unable to meet his eyes. ‘But you cannot let her stay here, Damon, it is not safe!’
He caught her hands.
‘Richard thinks she intends no harm, and I agree with him.’
‘No harm—but what of Mr Leeson—he ran off with Minna!’
‘I think that was a mistake. He panicked.’
‘But—’
‘Hush.’ He laid a finger on her lips. ‘If we send Veronique away now, we will never know what she was planning, and Richard is very keen to find out. And, I admit it, so am I. Now, will you help me?’
Juliana looked up into his eyes. ‘Of course,’ she said simply.
‘Good girl.’
She knew she should object to his calling her a girl, but his tone turned the words into a caress that tingled through her body. She could feel his fingers at her back, playing with her hair. She looked away quickly.
‘I must go.’
‘Must you?’
‘Yes.’ Her mind was telling her to get up, but her body refused to move. She sat very still, feeling as if she was a glass that might shatter at any minute. Damon leaned towards her. She could feel the heat of him through the silk. He was smiling at her. His fingers curled under her chin, forcing her head round until he could brush her lips with his own. The touch was featherlight, but the effect was to send the familiar liquid heat surging through her.
‘You are cold,’ he murmured, drawing back.
‘No,’ she followed his gaze and saw that her nipples were pushing against the thin cotton of her nightgown. ‘Oh, heavens,’ she gasped, horrified, ‘I should have put on my wrap!’
‘Indeed you should, but it is too late now.’ He pulled her towards him and kissed her again, fiercely this time. Juliana did not resist him. Instead her body seemed to melt into his arms of its own accord. His mouth teased hers and she found her lips parting voluntarily. She began to kiss him back, the pleasurable excitement growing within her so that when he broke away she found herself almost moaning with disappointment. Suddenly she found herself being pushed backwards while with one hand he swung her legs up until she was lying fully on the daybed. Damon was kneeling beside her and even in the light of the single candle the glow in his eyes was unmistakable. Juliana felt her breath catch in her throat.
He lifted a hand to smooth a strand of hair from her cheek. Her eyes widened.
‘You are trembling,’ she whispered.
‘I know.’ He drew an audible, ragged breath. ‘You had best tell me to stop now, Ju, or by God I swear it will be too late for you.’
‘Oh, Damon, my love, it is already too late.’
With a groan she reached up her hands to cup his face and pull him down so that she could kiss him again. Her lips parted beneath his mouth, and his flickering tongue tantalised her senses. Without warning Damon broke away and she found herself being lifted into his arms.
‘Not here,’ he muttered, burying his face in her hair. ‘I want to be able to enjoy you without fear of falling off that damned couch.’
Her hands crept around his neck and she rested her cheek against him, listening to the thud of his heart. He carried her into the bedroom, walking with an unerring step through the darkness to lay her tenderly on the bed. For a moment she panicked as he moved away from her, but it was only for a moment as he shed his dressing gown. She stretched out her hand and touched not cloth, but skin. Damon climbed up beside her, and she felt a jolt of excitement to know that only her thin nightgown lay between them. And then even that was gone. Damon gathered it up and began to pull it gently over her head. She lifted her arms to free herself of the garment and gasped as Damon used the opportunity to swoop down upon her breasts, catching one taut nipple between his teeth while his fingers circled its twin and her body writhed beneath his touch. Freeing her arms from the nightgown, Juliana drove her fingers into his thick hair as her body arched towards him. She was aching for him to do more, although she had no idea what it was her body wanted. She could feel his lean, hard limbs pressing against her own. She breathed deeply, inhaling the heady mix of soap and spices and skin. Her excitement grew. An unfamiliar sensation was building deep within her.
He trailed kisses up over her neck and captured her mouth again while one hand moved gently over her body. Tentatively she moved her own hands, exploring the unfamiliar curves of his shoulder. The firm skin beneath her fingers excited her. She drew her hand across his chest, threading her fingers through the fine covering of hair and all the time his hand was caressing her, tracing the curve of her waist and massaging the flat surface of her stomach. As her hand moved up to his face, his moved gradually downwards and she found her body moving instinctively beneath his fingers. She felt relaxed, fluid, all tension gone.
Juliana gave a little gasp as his fingers crept between her thighs and moved into her most private space. She felt herself opening for h
im, lifting her hips to offer herself up to him completely. With a groan he shifted on top of her, measuring the length of his body over hers while he kissed her cheeks and her eyelids, his lips gentle as a breeze on her skin. She became aware that Damon was tense above her, holding himself off as though afraid that his weight would crush her. Juliana shuddered and sighed, desperate for his embrace. She twined her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. He lowered himself on to her, gently easing himself into the space his fingers had prepared so well. She was surprised into a little cry and immediately Damon froze.
‘Do I hurt you—do you want me to stop?’ he muttered.
‘No, no.’ Her fingers dug into his shoulders. ‘Go on, go on!’
She took her bottom lip firmly between her teeth as he moved within her, feeling pain, but even more aware of a savage satisfaction. She tried moving her hips and heard Damon groan. She moved again and he gasped, his body tensing over her. His rigidity frightened her, but the next moment he was relaxing, falling on to the bed beside her, breathing heavily as if he had been running hard.
‘Darling Ju,’ he murmured. ‘Did I hurt you?’
‘Not much,’ she answered truthfully.
‘I wanted to take longer, to please you, but you—moved.’
She frowned in the darkness. ‘I don’t understand.’
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