He just wanted to make certain that she was kept out of danger and that whoever had made attempts on his life and caused his father’s death did not threaten Billie’s safety.
His dual identity had at least provided him with the ability to be around her most of the day and then, of course, his father kept a steady watch over her. Then there were those times she had managed to slip off and behave in the most unseemly manner while placing herself in danger.
Max smiled. Billie possessed a spirited soul that no amount of taming could control. He realized that was the very quality that drew him to her. She challenged him when no other woman ever did. And she didn’t deny her passion; she embraced it, welcomed it and welcomed him.
He had not thought overly long about marrying her under the disguise of John. He hadn’t wanted to lose her, so marriage was the simple solution, especially since he was so deeply in love with her. He smiled to himself again. He actually had his given name placed on the marriage certificate, having filled the document out himself and having the visiting vicar sign it in haste. Billie had only questioned him once about the certificate and he had informed her he had placed it away for safekeeping.
She was legally and eternally his.
When the time was right, all he had to do was explain his charade.
“You’re here,” Billie said, entering the study and closing the door behind her before locking the latch.
“You did instruct me to meet you here this afternoon if I remember correctly.” He kept his smile focused on her. She looked stunning in the soft blue Empire-waist dress, her blond hair riotously escaping from the pins that failed to hold the wild strands.
Billie clapped her hands like a happy child. “I’m so pleased with last night’s instructions.”
Max played ignorant. “You succeeded with only one lesson in getting your husband into bed?”
“Not exactly,” she said with less enthusiasm. “But I did manage to arouse him sufficiently enough and I feel things would have progressed most successfully if he hadn’t been called away to a needy villager.”
Max got up and walked around to the front of the desk, bracing his long, lithe form against the shiny wood. He leaned his hands against the edge of the desk, making certain Billie was treated to a full view of his body.
He had purposely worn extra-tight black breeches, with black riding boots that hugged his calves and he had left this white linen shirt opened sufficiently enough to entice and invite. His dark hair was loose and free around his shoulders and he knew from the heat in her eyes that his tempting appearance sparked her passion.
“Then perhaps with another lesson you will succeed.”
Billie fussed with a loose pin in her hair. “I have no doubt. John is such a dear and so caring and loving, I don’t see how he’ll be able to stop—”
“From fumbling,” Max finished.
Billie turned a cute smile on him. “He didn’t fumble last night. His hand turned quite intimate and his caresses evoked a deep yearning within me. I ashamedly begged him to make love to me. I desperately wanted him.”
Max recalled her plea, the words so plain and simple yet they had flamed him to a maddening arousal that had taken him the rest of the night to bring under control. And which was presently beginning to return in full force.
“Perhaps you don’t need another lesson,” he said, thinking any temptation right now might push him beyond the point of control.
Billie shook her finger at him. “You promised you would help me. I do so want to surprise John this evening. He does so many wonderful and endearing things for me that I want to make our first intimate moment together easy for him.”
Max grew annoyed at the way she spoke so lovingly of John. “He should be concerned over making your first time together easy for you.”
Billie immediately defended her husband. “John would. That’s why he is hesitant about consummating our marriage. He wants to make certain that we know each other well enough, leaving us comfortable and completely trusting of each other.”
“He’s not a saint, he’s just a man,” Max snapped.
“A shy man. A man who sometimes cares too much,” Billie said and as she looked at Max, her husband, she realized that he could only demonstrate those qualities as John, never as the lord of Radborne Manor. And she suddenly swelled with love for her two decidedly different but so very much alike husbands.
She walked over to him and eased herself against him, her head resting on his chest, her legs slipping between his spread ones and her arms encircling his waist.
“Teach me more.”
A shiver that felt like teasing and tempting fingers crawled up his spine. She sounded like a lustful woman begging for fulfillment. And his blood raged with a passionate fury. He wanted her naked and stretched out beneath him.
His voice was low and harsh when he spoke. “Rub against me.”
She didn’t hesitate. She obeyed, moving her body in a slow, steady rhythm exactly where he had intended her to.
He swelled rapidly and pressed into her, roughly cupping her buttocks and pushing her closer against him.
Her lips found his bare chest and she proceeded to taste him as she had done last night.
“That’s it, Belinda, show me how much you want me, let me feel it, taste it,” he urged with a ragged breath.
Her hands slipped inside his shirt, running wildly over his flesh, licking and kissing wherever her mouth wandered.
“Feel how hard I am for you,” he whispered roughly, urging her against his bulging erection. “Feel how hard you made me.”
Billie was quickly losing control of her senses; if she wasn’t careful she would beg Max to take her here and now on the carpet. The thought of them rolling naked on the dark brooding colors inflamed her even more and she realized she needed to regain control. She had a plan that she had to follow, no matter how difficult. No matter how aroused her husband felt against her. No matter how much she wanted to feel him penetrate and pulsate inside her.
He kissed her temples, her forehead and she lifted her face to him. He took her lips and she let him. She had to taste him just a little, just briefly.
Max feasted like a starved beast on her.
Bloody hell, but he wanted her, ached for her, needed her.
“Billie.” Her name spilled with agonizing torture from his lips.
With a willpower Billie cursed, she pulled away from him and caught and steadied her heavy breath before she spoke. “Good Lord, that’s a fantastic lesson. I’m certain John will be thoroughly seduced to the point of aching madness and beg me to make love with him.”
Max felt the fury rage inside him. He bloody hell was preparing her for himself and this charade was completely and utterly driving him out of his mind.
He didn’t know who he was anymore or if Max or John should make love to her. He only knew that if he didn’t bed his wife soon he was going to go stark raving mad.
He sent Billie an angry growl and stomped out of the room, fearful if he remained he’d throw her on the floor and take her like some wild primitive animal in the throes of heat.
Billie watched with startled eyes as he fought with the lock, flung the door open, smashing it against the wall and marched down the hall out of sight.
“I guess he forgot he’s a ghost and should disappear in a puff.” She laughed to herself, deciding her plan was proceeding nicely. Right now, though, she needed to clear her mind and stem her passion and a brisk walk to the village would do just that.
The day was warm and sunny, a prelude to summer’s fast approach. Billie draped a white knitted shawl around her shoulders, having discovered even on warm days the coastal breeze could prove cool.
She inspected the ornate stone planters arranged along the manor’s front steps, smiling cheerfully at the rich, perfumed scent and barrage of colors the numerous plants produced. She had artfully mixed wildflowers with the more pampered garden variety and the match had proven successful; the colorful plant
s thrived.
Billie took her time walking, stopping to admire plants that sprouted here and there along the roadside. She wanted to learn as much as she could about St. Clair’s growing climate so she would better understand the planting season and the area plants themselves.
Once in the village she stopped at the apothecary shop and purchased a few healing herbs for various ailments, deciding it always paid to be prepared. She moved on, exchanging pleasantries with several villagers before she reached the Cox Crow Inn.
She entered the inn, the scent of freshly baked scones filling the air. Bessie and Marlee occupied a corner table, enjoying afternoon tea and hot scones.
Bessie stood. “Would you care to join us, m’lady?”
Billie hurried over to the table. “I’d love to. The scones smell positively delicious. Did you make them, Bessie?”
Bessie poured Billie tea and placed a warm scone on a plate then put it in front of Billie. “I surely did.”
Billie spread a generous portion of honey butter on the scone and took a bite. She sighed appreciatively and after taking a sip of her tea she spoke. “Exquisitely delicious. You truly are a wonderful cook.”
Bessie beamed with pride.
Marlee agreed. “That she is.”
Billie decided it was best to probe for answers in a more indirect way. “The village appears to be prospering.”
“Thanks to you,” Marlee said. “You have created much-needed work for the villagers. Bessie has hired two extra women to help her fill your sewing orders and you have kept several of the men busy with the work on the manor.”
It was Bessie’s turn to compliment. “You’ve also hired a gardener, stable help and extra house staff.”
“The manor is too large for Matilda to see to the numerous duties herself. She requires help during the day,” Billie said, attempting to explain, though she had learned from conversation with Matilda and Pembrooke that the manor had supported a good portion of the village and with Max’s supposed death St. Clair had suffered. She had decided to remedy that immediately.
“The villagers are grateful,” Marlee said with a nod.
Billie sent her a smile. “I appreciate their gratitude. It’s nice to be part of a village that cares so closely for each other.”
“That we do,” Bessie agreed. “We always look out for one another. That’s how we survive.”
“You all must know each other well,” Billie said.
Bessie was about to answer when Marlee interrupted. “We know enough, but we don’t pry.”
Bessie heeded her subtle warning. “Everyone has a right to private matters.”
“I agree,” Billie said. “In Nantucket we respected one another enough to know when to offer help and when to know a matter didn’t concern anyone but the family. Of course gossip still made its rounds, like it or not.”
“Here as well,” Marlee agreed with a slow smile.
Bessie filled Billie’s empty teacup. “We always share a bit of gossip.”
That left an opening for Billie. “I heard some myself recently.”
Both women leaned forward ready to listen.
Billie continued. “I heard two men over St. Simon’s way were taken in by the magistrate for aiding in a wrecking.”
“Rubbish,” Bessie said and failed to catch the wide-eyed warning that Marlee sent her. “Most wreckings along the coast are done by women.”
It was Billie’s turn to stare at Bessie. “Women?”
Marlee jumped in. “We heard tell from time to time.”
Bessie realized her mistake and rushed to correct it. “That’s right. We’ve heard women get involved as well as men.”
Billie nodded. “Really, how interesting.” Her casual response hid her excitement. The two women had provided her with much-needed information. She was almost certain now that a woman in St. Clair was involved with the wreckings and the villagers were protecting her and perhaps even helping her.
She finished her tea and scone, turning the conversation to everyday chatter and shortly bid the two women good day. She strolled back to the manor, her mind busy with her recent discovery.
Why would the manor be involved with the wreckings? Oran had aided smugglers, but wreckers were another matter. The caves were in perfect access to the coast and were readily available for storing smuggled goods and moving the goods from there as well.
Wreckers could just as well make use of such an advantageous position. Had the wreckers threatened Oran?
She highly doubted Oran would have taken such threats lightly. He would have immediately seen to the matter and to his favor.
Billie shook her head as she walked through the open gates of the manor. She ignored the newly planted ivy that clung to the iron fence and that eventually would wind its way around the gates’ spikes. Her mind was just too busy and confused. The only common denominator in this mystery was the manor; therefore, she had to assume it was the manor’s strategic position that the wreckers sought. And of course, if the manor’s owner would not oblige the wreckers then the answer was obvious: dispose of him.
She stopped in her tracks, wrapping her shawl more snugly around her, feeling suddenly chilled. She presently owned Radborne Manor. Did that place her in danger? Had the supposed thief that knocked her unconscious been after information regarding her and not coins?
Her eyes searched out the manor, so different from when she had first viewed it, so dark and foreboding to visitors. Now it called out a friendly welcome.
The front door opened and John stepped out and waved to her. She returned an eager wave and realized she wasn’t the sole owner of the manor, nor had she ever owned the manor. Maximillian was not dead; therefore, the manor remained his. But no one was aware of this, leaving her the existing owner—along with her new husband, John. Had Max planned this all along? She had many questions for him to answer, though at the moment they could wait. She had more pressing matters to attend to.
She hurried her steps toward her waiting husband, anxious to proceed with her own plans.
Tonight she would unmercifully seduce her husband.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Enough,” John said with a shout and rolled out from beneath his wife with such a force that he rolled right off the bed.
Billie inched her head off the edge of the bed to peer down at her husband, who lay sprawled on his back, his glasses crooked across his face. “Are you all right, dear?”
John sent her a scathing look. “Whatever the devil has come over you, behaving so—so wantonly?”
Her lips pouted. I assumed it was my duty to please you.”
John stood, stuck his shirt back in his breeches, straightened his skewed glasses and took several steps away from the bed, placing himself a safe distance away from Billie. She had pleased him all too well; he hurt in his desire for her.
“We need to learn more about each other before we attempt intimacy.”
Billie rolled back on the bed, twirling the open ties that exposed her plump breasts. “Intimacy will teach us more.”
Bloody hell, but she was too intelligent, he thought. His eyes fixed on the ends of the white silk ties that she purposely brushed across her nipples. She didn’t need any lessons in seduction. She was far more knowledgeable in the art than she realized.
“Not yet,” he snapped, annoyed with this god-awful predicament that didn’t allow him to make love to his wife in either disguise.
Billie sat up in the middle of the bed, crossing her legs and draping her nightdress just high enough over her thighs to offer a peek. The thin strap of her night rail drooped off her shoulder and the ties across her chest fell loose, leaving her breasts exposed to his full view.
“I grow tired of waiting, John. I want you. Don’t you want me?” Her voice was softly seductive and highly persuasive.
The bulge in his breeches clearly demonstrated his need, though his response denied the obvious. “Not yet.”
“Why?” she asked with feigned dis
appointment. “Don’t you love me?” She hugged herself as if his rejection of her hurt and she needed comfort.
He silently berated himself for causing her distress and he reluctantly returned to the bed. He reached down and with his one finger tipped her chin up. “I love you more than you will ever know.”
She ran her hand up his arm, caressing him. “Then join with me and seal our love.”
He wanted nothing more than to join with her. He ached to bring their bodies together as one and settle this charade, but the time wasn’t right.
“Soon,” he assured her in a whisper and leaned down to kiss her gently. He pulled away before she could arouse him any further and walked to the end of the bed.
“I don’t understand,” she said, playing the part of the young, injured wife all too well.
“You will,” he said convincingly. “Now get some sleep while I go prepare my sermon for Sunday services tomorrow morning.”
Billie sighed her disappointment and slipped beneath the counterpane. “Will you be long?”
“Yes,” was his quick reply, “very long. Now sleep.”
Billie watched as he almost ran from the room and she burst with laughter when the door closed behind him. She was having a grand time seducing him, though she grew tired of the seduction never ending in fulfillment. She would have to rectify that soon.
Yes, very soon she would allow him to discover the truth and then . . . She snuggled beneath the covers, a smile spreading across her face.
o0o
Billie ushered Marlee into the receiving parlor, having been all prepared to leave for Sunday services. John had left for the church over an hour ago and she had little time to spare if she was to arrive on time.
Marlee refused the offered seat and stood wringing her hands. “I knew you’d be alone now. I waited until I saw Pembrooke and Matilda leave.”
Her nervousness worried Billie. “Is there something wrong, Marlee?”
She bobbed her head and squinted her eyes, the numerous wrinkles highlighting her age. “I had to come.”
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