Kenleigh-Blakewell Family Saga Boxed Set (Books 1 & 2)

by Pamela Clare

  Cassie stood, her green eyes dark with passion. He pulled her to him, feeling the softness of her breasts against his chest. His lips closed fiercely over hers. Their tongues met, sparred, twined.

  “I want to come inside you,” he whispered hungrily against her throat.

  “Aye.”

  He turned her, bent her over the table before him, spread her thighs, and plunged into her warm, wet sheath, possessing her completely. He reached around with one hand to stroke her and increase her pleasure, while the other caressed the rosy skin of her rounded backside. The scent of her filled his nostrils as he carried her with him toward another climax. Their cries mingled as his thrusts brought them both sweet release.

  “I think,” she said a while later as she sat snugly in his arms before the embers of the dying cookfire. “I shall have to bathe much, much more often.”

  * * *

  “I took fifty pounds off that bastard Landon Carter last night in billiards,” said Geoffrey, pulling up his breeches and straightening his embroidered vest. “Poor fool. He hasn’t got a ruthless bone in his body, yet he fancies himself skilled at wagering.”

  Elly pulled her skirts down over her thighs, grateful that it was over. Truth was, she didn’t enjoy it at all. She only hoped they’d done nothing to hurt the babe. She hadn’t told him yet. She wanted to wait for the right moment. She hoped he’d be as happy as she was.

  “Pardon?” she asked, realizing that Geoffrey had asked her a question.

  “All caught up in your thoughts, are you?” He took an apple from the basket he’d brought with him and sat down in the grass beside her. “What kind of thoughts fit into that pretty little head of yours?”

  Elly loved it when he said she was pretty. Should she tell him now?

  He didn’t give her time. “I asked you whether your mistress is still questioning your absences.”

  “Nay,” she lied, not wanting to endure another lecture about not making Miss Cassie suspicious. She paused. “I’ve something I want to tell you.”

  “And what’s that, love?” He took another bite of apple.

  “I’m going to have your baby.” She held her breath.

  Geoffrey laughed. “I suppose it was bound to happen sooner or later. Another Crichton bastard.”

  Bastard? But her baby wouldn’t be a bastard. He was going to marry her. He’d said so. “You said you wanted children.”

  “Yes, but I’m afraid this one won’t count. I won’t be able to claim it. My father would never allow it.”

  Elly’s pulse began to race. “But you said—”

  “Said what?” His eyes were cold.

  She could scarcely breathe. “You swore you’d marry me.”

  “Have you a witness to this oath of mine?” He took several bites of apple and threw the core over his shoulder.

  A witness? They’d always met in secret. How could there be a witness? “Geoffrey, you can’t mean this. You can’t do this to me!”

  “I’m afraid, my dear, I already have.” He stood and ran a hand gently along her cheek. “Pity. You are a sweet little thing.”

  “Geoffrey!”

  “We can still meet if you’d like. It won’t bother me when your belly gets round. But, say, I’ve somewhere else I’ve got to be just now. I’ve no more time today.” He strode to his horse, mounted, then turned its head toward the road.

  “What am I to do?”

  “Get rid of it if you like. But be careful. I’ve heard that can be dangerous.” He urged his horse to a canter and disappeared into the forest.

  For a moment Elly was too stunned to feel anything. Then the terrible weight of what had happened crashed in upon her. She fell to her knees, tears coming in great, wrenching sobs, her heart in pieces.

  She should have known. She should have known. She’d believed him. She’d trusted him. How could she have been so stupid?

  She had no idea how long she cried. It had begun to grow dark.

  In the distance someone was calling her name.

  Nettie.

  Elly would have hidden, but Nettie had already seen her and was walking quickly toward her. Elly waited for Nettie to start yelling at her for running off.

  But Nettie said nothing. She stood, arms crossed, looking down at Elly, her expression unreadable. “You got no time for cryin’ now, girl. You got a child to think about. Get up on your feet.”

  Then Nettie held out her hand.

  * * *

  Geoffrey left the road and guided his horse to the prearranged meeting place, dismounted, and waited. It would be growing dark soon. He had no desire to find himself in the forest after sunset. A thrashing in the bushes announced Henry’s arrival.

  “You’re late.”

  “It’s nae easy tae get away.”

  “So?”

  “I missed by inches.”

  “Good Lord, man! How hard can it be to kill one man?” Geoffrey stomped his foot on the ground.

  “I had tae run for me life. I almost got caught.”

  “I asked you to do a simple job for me, Henry. I gave you good reason to do it—freedom. You do remember our arrangement?”

  “Aye, sir, but it’s nae easy tae get ’im alone these days, him beddin’ the mistress and all.”

  Geoffrey froze. He couldn’t have heard Henry correctly. “What did you say?”

  “He’s gone tae her bed most every night. I’ve seen ’im sneakin’ away from her room afore dawn. They think no one knows, but I’ve been watchin’, like ye told me.”

  Bile rose in Geoffrey’s throat. “Are you certain?”

  “Aye, sir. Seen it wi’ me own eyes.”

  “Good work.” He slapped Henry on the back hard, wishing he could crack the man’s skull. “This changes everything.”

  “It does?” Henry turned and looked at him, his gaze darting nervously about.

  “Aye. You’ve done well, Henry.” Geoffrey turned abruptly, grabbed the man’s throat with both hands, and squeezed. “Tell no one what you saw, do you understand me?”

  Henry sputtered and choked, grabbed Geoffrey’s wrists with his hands, his eyes bulging. He nodded frantically.

  Geoffrey squeezed harder, his fingers digging into the ruddy flesh of Henry’s neck. “If you speak of it to anyone—anyone!—I will have you flayed to death. You’ll live only long enough to grow tired of listening to your own pathetic screams!”

  He released Henry with a shove.

  The man fell to his knees, hands around his throat, coughing.

  Geoffrey paced the clearing, his mind racing. Damn Braden to hell! And damn Catherine!

  “There’s more, sir.” Henry stumbled timidly to his feet, rubbing his throat. “I’ve seen her father.”

  Geoffrey stopped. “Go on.”

  “He’s on an island, hidden in the marsh. It’s nae easy tae find. The man’s daft, don’t know ’is own daughter.”

  Geoffrey smiled. “Not in England after all, as I suspected. Listen carefully. Here’s what you’re going to do.”

  * * *

  Tapping his foot in time to the music, Alec took a small swig of whiskey and passed the jug to Luke, who drank deeply. The big slave’s eyes were fixed on Nettie, who was dancing with abandon near the bonfire, her body swaying seductively. It was no secret that the two had become lovers, though Luke still refused to take Nettie to wife. There’d been more than one late-night argument attesting to their difference of opinion on that subject. But seeing the hunger in Luke’s eyes, Alec had no doubt Nettie would prevail. The big man stood no chance against those long brown legs and soft brown eyes. Why he suddenly found that so damned amusing, Alec didn’t know. Perhaps love had addled his brain.

  He spied Cassie in the distance, bouncing baby Catherine in her arms, light from Rebecca’s cookfire casting shadows upon her face. It was hell having to stay away from her like this. He’d watched all evening as she had moved from family to family, fire to fire, chatting amiably with slave and servant alike, tasting their food. Her eyes
sought him out from time to time, her gaze lingering for a moment before gliding over him with feigned indifference. She was working her way in his direction. It was a game they’d become adept at playing these past weeks.

  “Come dance with us, Miss Cassie!” called one of the slave women as Cassie moved toward them.

  “Oh, no, I’m sure I couldn’t.” She shook her head and pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders.

  “Why not? Have you forgotten how, Missy?” teased Nettie. “Or would it not be proper?”

  Alec had to fight not to laugh, knowing very well Nettie’s taunt would goad Cassie into joining her. Cassie had told him how the two of them had been best friends as children. Despite the gulf that separated them now, he thought he could see a glimpse of that affection still.

  “Well, I-I … ” stammered Cassie before dropping her shawl on the ground and kicking off her shoes. “Very well.”

  Though it took her a moment to catch the beat, soon she was dancing about with them, her head tossed back in carefree laughter, her eyes bright with excitement. It wasn’t long before she and Nettie were imitating each other, daring one another with their steps, their hips undulating in a natural rhythm that needed no explanation. Alec felt a tightening in his groin and cursed. He yanked the whiskey jug back from Luke and took a deep swallow, his amusement at Luke’s frustration coming back to haunt him. How long did this damn celebration have to last anyway?

  He wanted to go to bed now. Cassie’s bed, to be precise.

  “Missy!” Nan ran toward them as fast as her plump legs could carry her, her face pinched with urgency.

  But Cassie was too caught up in the dance to hear her.

  “Missy!” Nan motioned frantically.

  Cassie waved a greeting to the cook, then, seeing the look on her face, stopped dancing and hurried to her side.

  Something had happened.

  Alec stood, every nerve in his body alert.

  Cassie whirled around, shouted something to him, her face lined with emotion.

  The only word he was able to make out was London.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  The letter lay on the kitchen table, its red wax seal glistening in the candlelight, but Cassie could not make herself open it. Nor could she shake the sadness that had gripped her the moment Nan’s words had reached her ears. She’d known for weeks that this moment would come, and she’d tried to ready herself. Still, she was not prepared. This letter would restore Alec’s name and, with it, his freedom. What would happen after tonight, only God knew.

  “You read it first.” She tried to sound cheerful and stepped back from the table.

  There was no mistaking the excitement glittering in his blue eyes or the joy in the smile on his handsome face. He’d been awaiting this reply for so long. She could not begrudge him his happiness. Instead of grabbing the letter and tearing it open as she had expected he would, he pulled her close and took her chin in his fingertips.

  “I’ll not abandon you.” His blue eyes held such tenderness that she could not keep tears from spilling onto her cheeks.

  “Read the letter.” She forced a smile.

  “I’ve waited almost four months. Another moment will do no harm.” He brought his lips to hers and kissed her gently, slowly, his thumbs caressing the wetness from her cheeks.

  She pressed her hands into the hardness of his chest, fighting the urge to wrap her arms around him and cling to him with every last ounce of her strength.

  All too soon, his lips released hers, and the moment was gone. She pulled her knitted shawl tightly around her shoulders and watched as he opened the letter and began to read. Candlelight danced silently over the copper kettles and spoons that hung on the cookhouse walls, its homey warmth a sharp contrast to the empty chill that had taken hold of her heart. The bathtub, its water now cold, sat on the floor, a bittersweet reminder of what they’d shared in this same kitchen only a few hours ago.

  “Christ!”

  Cassie gasped as Alec’s fist hit the table with a deafening crash that made the butter crock jump.

  “What is it?”

  “Bloody hell!” His face was angrier than she’d ever seen it. “It was Philip. Dear God. He’s the one.”

  “Alec?”

  “Read,” he said in a choked voice, handing her the letter and turning his back to her, his body rigid.

  Hardly able to breathe, she forced her eyes to the page.

  Sir:

  I was distressed to read that you have living among you a convict who claims to be Alec Kenleigh, my esteemed elder brother. I must inform you that my dear brother has been dead these past months, having been murdered by thieves in March of this year while on his way home late at night. I had the most unfortunate duty of identifying his body and am therefore able to assure you that whatever despicable creature you have had the misfortune to take in is not my brother, but the most contemptible of liars.

  Having contacted the magistrate at Newgate Prison myself after the arrival of his disturbing missive, I learned that Nicholas Braden is a man of formidable talents when it comes to treachery and deceit. It is said that he earned his berth to the colony by seducing a fortune out from under the daughter of one of our sovereign’s peers. The magistrate assures us that Mr. Braden was in chains on the night my brother was so cruelly dispatched. My advice to you, Sir, is to treat this accursed criminal with the utmost caution. Know that his ruse has brought fresh grief to my family. Had we the power, we would see him hanged for this latest affront.

  Signed by my hand on this, the twenty-third day of June in the third year of our sovereign, King George II.

  Philip Kenleigh

  Cassie read through the letter twice, the words swimming before her eyes, blood rushing to her head, her heart pounding like thunder in her ears. “No! This can’t be possible!”

  The letter slipped from her fingers and fell unheeded to the floor.

  Alec was there, saying something, reaching for her.

  “Don’t touch me!” she heard herself cry, twisting to get away from his grasp.

  “Cassie, calm yourself.”

  “Calm myself?” Her legs were trembling. She could hardly stand. “Calm myself when … when everything you’ve ever said to me is a lie?”

  “Surely you don’t believe—”

  “What am I supposed to believe? According to this letter, you cannot possibly be who you say you are.”

  “Cassie, listen to me—”

  “Listen to you? I’ve listened to you. I’ve believed you. My God, I’ve lain with you!”

  Suddenly red bricks were rushing up at her.

  She felt strong arms catch her and lower her until she sat on the floor, her skirts in a heap around her.

  “It is obvious what has happened.” Alec’s voice was soothing, his hands stroking her hair. “When Nicholas Braden died, his body was left in place of mine. And my brother Philip, behind it all the time, told authorities it was me to have me declared dead.”

  Nicholas Braden’s body left in place of Alec’s? Alec’s family fooled? His brother to blame? Cassie struggled to make sense of his words. Yes, her heart cried, that must be it! There had to be an explanation. How else could she explain her feelings for this man? Because if what this letter said was the truth …

  “Leave me.” She struggled to push him away, her voice barely audible even to her own ears.

  For one moment, she saw in his eyes a desperation to match her own. Then it was gone, hidden behind unforgiving stone.

  “Very well. Miss Blakewell.” He released her and stood.

  Without another word, he was gone.

  * * *

  Cassie blew out the candle and fell back onto her pillows, exhausted, listening to the choir of crickets that chirped outside her window. These past seven days had gone by in a fog. She’d buried herself in her chores, working until the light failed, tending those sick with the ague until dawn. She’d hung tobacco in the sheds, harvested the kitchen garden, and gath
ered herbs for drying. She’d scrubbed every brick in the kitchen and every floorboard in the great house, even hauling the carpets outdoors for beating. Still she could not escape, crying herself to sleep despite her fatigue, only to be consumed by fitful dreams.

  Like a sickness in the belly, remorse and fear ate at her day and night.

  She knew she had reacted foolishly that night. As soon as she’d regained her senses and thought the situation through, she’d realized what Alec had known right away: It was Nicholas Braden’s body that had been found on the street that night and lay rotting in the grave in London. It had to be. Though Cassie would be the first to admit that there was absolutely no evidence to support this supposition, she could not believe otherwise. It was impossible that everything Alec had said and done during these past months had simply been a lie, part of some elaborate plot. His kindness to Jamie and the other children. His hard work and helpfulness. His kisses and gentleness as he made love to her.

  No man, no matter how artful, could feign the kind of goodness she had seen in him day after day.

  Besides, what could he stand to gain? There was no wealth for him to steal. That much he had seen for himself when he’d reviewed her father’s ledgers. Her dowry, modest by Northern Neck standards, would be valuable only in the hands of a planter, which Nicholas Braden certainly was not. Nor could he possibly gain his freedom by seducing her, as neither she nor her father had the power to relieve him of a convict’s indenture. And though a lesser man might have used intimacy with her as a means to gain privilege and thereby escape the rigorous toil intended for a convict, he had never shied away from hard labor, often doing the work of two able-bodied men.

  He was telling the truth. Of this her heart was certain. She would have asked his forgiveness days ago, but she knew something else, as well.

  He was leaving, and she must let him go.

  From a distance, she’d watched as he’d taken Aldebaran riding early each morning, staying away a bit longer each day, building the stallion’s endurance. Today he’d been gone for nearly four hours. It would not be long now. One morning he would ride out and not return. Flying like the wind on Aldebaran’s back, he would ride to the nearest port town and sign on to the first ship leaving for England.