“What is it?” Billie urged in a gentle tone.
“I’ve come to warn you to mind your business when it comes to the wreckings. You’re placing yourself in far more danger than you know.”
“What danger? Why?” she asked, curious that this woman should make a point of warning her. Her actions demonstrated her concern, which lead Billie to believe that she knew much about the wreckings and possibly the identity of the person in charge.
Marlee shook her head. “Don’t ask questions, leave it be.”
“How can I,” Billie argued, “when it affects the manor and possibly my safety.”
“No harm will come to you,” Marlee assured anxiously.
“How can you be sure? Oran Radborne is dead and so is Maximillian.” She crossed her fingers behind her back as she lied.
Marlee grew agitated and shook her head as she headed for the door. “Just mind your business and all will be well. Please, m’lady.” With that last plea she hurried out of the room and out the manor’s front door.
Billie watched her rush down the path and wondered what brought her to deliver such a blatant warning. Something was going on, she was certain of it and she had every intention of finding out.
Her eyes caught the time on the tall encased clock in the foyer. She would be late for services and tardiness in the vicar’s wife for Sunday service would not look well for John. Unless . . .
Billie looked to where her white shawl and blue bonnet lay on the intricately carved wood chest beneath the gilt-framed mirror and reached for both. She tossed the shawl around her shoulders and threw her bonnet on her head, tying it loosely beneath her chin and rushed into the kitchen. She would take the passageway in the caves to the vicarage. If she hurried she would arrive just in time.
Her steps were spry, having exchanged her black pumps for boots. She held her pumps in one hand and a lantern in the other and made her way without incident down into the caves and to the scarred door.
Easing it open, she peeked in and found the room deserted. She smiled and hurried through the room to the other door, opening it slowly and listening for voices. Discovering none, she proceeded up the narrow steps. Once at the top she listened again for voices, easing the door open but a crack.
Silence greeted her and when she was certain the room beyond was empty she stepped in. It was John’s office, where he spoke with villagers and handled the business of being a vicar.
She extinguished the lantern and after exchanging her boots for her pumps she deposited them on the top step of the secret passageway to collect later.
With a tug of her shawl and a pat of her bonnet, Billie hurried from the vicar’s office, through the small vestibule where John always emerged from into the church and where Billie quietly exited, taking her seat in the vicar’s family pew.
John stood at the pulpit about to start services when he watched his wife hurry into her seat. He smiled at her, having been concerned by her tardiness and worried over her safety.
She returned his smile, folded her hands in her lap and directed her full attention on him.
He realized she was attempting her best behavior, probably feeling guilty over last night and the way she unashamedly had
His thoughts ceased in an instant and he turned his head casually to his right before turning back to focus on the congregation that waited patiently for him to begin.
She had entered from the vicar’s vestibule, not through the front doors as she normally did and she had been late. There could only be one reasonable explanation for why she entered from where she did. She had to have come from the caves, through the room below and through the vicarage. Which meant . . .?
He turned another smile on his innocent wife who sat so proper and pious with folded hands. She bloody hell knew his secret. She knew he was Maximillian Radborne. That explained why she had asked him to teach her to seduce John and why she was wickedly tormenting him with her seductive ways. She was punishing him for tricking her.
His expression turned somber and he grasped the edges of the pulpit firmly as his strong, stern voice carried out across the sea of intent faces. “Today I will speak on the duties of marriage and the role of a proper wife to her husband.”
The men bobbed their heads and the women tried to keep from shaking theirs. Billie retained her smile, never taking her eyes off her husband as he delivered his reproachful sermon on wifely duties with a strong emphasis on obeying one’s husband.
o0o
Later that evening, Billie invited her husband to join her in bed, suggesting that the day had been most tiring and they both could use the rest.
John claimed that he had work to do and that he would join her later. Billie didn’t argue. She assumed that Max would make his appearance instead and that was fine with her. One way or another, her husband would join her in bed tonight.
Billie didn’t have long to wait. She had just discarded her garments and slipped on her silk, lilac, full-length robe when Max stepped out of the shadows.
She greeted him with a smile. “Just in time for a lesson.”
“I was thinking the same myself,” Max said and proceeded to shed his clothes.
Startled, Billie knotted her silk belt at her waist. “Whatever are you doing?”
He gave a careless toss to his boots and stockings, landing them near the foot of the bed. “I’m advancing our lessons since what we’ve covered thus far hasn’t proven successful.” He tore his shirt off, sending it flying to drift down over the chair near the cold hearth.
Billie put a safe distance between them, avoiding the bed. “I’m satisfied with the lessons thus far.”
Max shook his head and began to strip off his breeches. “I’m not.”
Billie turned her back on him. “Well, I am. Now leave your clothes on, this is not at all proper.”
“You want your husband in bed, don’t you?” His warm breath flushed her neck and she shuddered.
“I—oh!”
He yanked her back against him and through the silk she could feel his complete nakedness. His fingers worked on the knot at her waist while his teeth nipped along her sensitive neck.
“I’m certain this lesson will end with you and your husband making love,” he said between the soft nips that he continued down along her shoulder.
Billie agreed with him. This lesson would result in their coupling, but this was Max, not John, and he had yet to learn his lesson.
“You feel so good, Belinda,” he whispered against her ear as his fingers freed the silk ties at her waist and eased the garment off, the silk drifting down her body until it pooled at her feet.
They both stood naked.
His hands roamed over her slowly, exploring every inch, caressing every curve and mound.
She attempted to retain her sanity. “You’re seducing me when you’re supposed to be teaching me to seduce you.”
He spun her around to face him, steadying her with his hands at her waist. “Reverse the roles then, and touch me.”
If she touched him she would never stop. “No!” The harsh whisper rushed from her lips and she forced herself to pull away.
His hands remained at her waist and he matched each step she took back. “But you want your husband naked in your bed, don’t you?”
“Yes—my husband,” she said, continuing to step back.
He continued to follow. “Then this will surely drive him to your bed. He’d have to be a monk to deny you.”
She kept her eyes on his face, fearful that if she glanced over his perfectly sculpted body and his full erection she’d be lost. She took several more anxious steps away from him and was about to speak when she felt the bed brush against the back of her legs.
She glanced over her shoulder and then back at Max.
“I told you this lesson would end with you and your husband in bed.” He leaned down to claim her mouth.
She yelped in shock, ducked beneath his outstretched arm and hurried over to where her robe lay crumpled on
the floor. She picked it up and slipped into it.
“Damn you, Max,” she cried. “You know.”
He stood with confidence and blatant disregard to his nakedness, making him all the more majestic. “Know what?”
She shook an avenging finger at him. “That you are no ghost and that you are John Bosworth, my husband.”
“That makes you my wife and means you owe me obedience.” His smile was sinfully assured.
“I owe you?” she said incredulously and before he could respond she continued, her voice rising. “You owe me an explanation for this trickery of yours. Why did you lie to me?”
“I owe you only what I wish to tell you,” he snapped and walked toward her.
Her finger shot out at his chest when he approached. She poked him with an emphasizing jab. “You owe me the truth and I will settle for nothing less.”
“You forget I am your husband,” he warned sharply.
Each word she spoke was matched with a solid jab to his hard chest. “You forget that I don’t play by British rules. I’m an American.”
He grabbed her finger.
She raised her chin. “I want answers and I want them now. Why did you pose as a ghost? Why as the vicar?” And with a pause to gather her courage she asked, “And why did you marry me?”
Maximillian released her finger and stood glaring down at his courageous wife. He loved her fiery nature and her strong-willed determination. And now was the time to admit all.
“My plan had been simple until you showed up.”
Billie listened.
“I had assumed my uncle, being the sole heir to Radborne Manor, would return home. Several attempts had been made on my life after my father’s death, the last one on All Hallows’ Eve being the most blatant.”
“What happened?”
“A man entered the manor and shot a friend of mine, assuming he was me. I knew then that whoever wanted me dead would go to any extreme to succeed. So I enlisted Pembrooke’s help the night of the wreck. It was a perfect time to stage my death. Afterwards my solicitor sent the letter to my uncle. I had hoped to have him help me search for the culprit, but I couldn’t wait for his arrival and I wanted access to the village and its gossip, so I became the vicar, John Bosworth.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me all this upon my arrival?”
“I couldn’t,” he said with a shake of his head.
“Why not?”
“At first I didn’t know what to do with you, especially after I discovered you had no family to return to. Then I found your presence suited me.”
“Suited you?” she repeated.
“Yes, suited me. I discovered I liked your stubborn, quarrelsome nature.”
“I am not quarrelsome.”
“But I am,” he said with a smile. “And you challenged that side of me, a rare quality in a woman. Normally women immediately succumb to my will. Not you. You defied me at every turn and I admired your courage.
“The changes to the manor were even beginning to grow on me. The vivid colors added life to an otherwise dull home. And, of course, I enjoyed the relationship you and the vicar shared. It allowed me to get to know the special woman you truly are.”
“But why continue it, why marry me under false pretenses?”
Max’s expression grew somber. “I realized you were the type of woman I wanted as a wife, the type of woman I could love more deeply than I ever thought possible. But you spoke so endearingly about John that I began to worry that he was the type of man you wished to marry.”
“But you are him.”
“Only part of me was him, a small part. Maximillian is who I really am and our passion was obvious, but I wasn’t certain if you could love Max as much as you obviously loved John. I was jealous of myself.”
“You needn’t have been,” she said softly. “You could have confided the truth in me.”
“No, I couldn’t. I feared for your safety. If anyone had uncovered my charade and realized that I was alive not only my life would be in danger but my wife’s as well. So I chose to continue the charade for your protection.”
He reached out, his hand cupping the side of her face, his thumb stroking her lips. “Life without you, Billie, would not be worth living. I would slay dragons for you, my lady, and gladly give my life for yours. I love you with all my heart and soul.”
Tears filled Billie’s eyes and her heart swelled. Max loved her, John loved her and her husband loved her.
She discarded her robe, stepped forward to press her naked body against her husband and slipped her hand behind his neck, drawing his lips to hers as she whispered, “I love you, Lord Radborne.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Max scooped her up in his arms, carried her to the bed and lowered her down, following after her. “You’ve driven me to insanity, m’lady.”
Billie purred like a wild feline and nipped playfully at his neck. “However did I do that?”
After delivering his own teasing nips to her breasts, he answered, “You tormented me unmercifully with your lessons.”
She laughed and grabbed his face in her hands. “And I loved every minute of it.”
His eyes twinkled with a sensual playfulness. “Now it’s my turn to torment.”
She writhed beneath him and stretched her arms above her head. “I’m all yours.”
“You’re wicked.” He laughed. “And I love your wickedness . . . and you.”
He stretched his arms over hers, locking their fingers and matching her rhythmic writhing. He claimed her lips greedily and she responded with the same rapacious force.
Their overwhelming need fueled their frantic response for each other and their sensual moans blended into an erotic rhythm that matched their titillating movements.
Max used his body to arouse her while his mouth worked unforgettable magic on her senses. When she thought she would burst with the want of him, he released her hands and used his own to drive her to the brink of sensual madness, touching her with the precision of a master lover.
She shamelessly and urgently pleaded for him to take her this very instant. She insisted he take her, needed him to take her.
She paused briefly to catch her breath and cried, “You must take me. I want you deep inside me.”
He smiled as he whispered, “Not yet.” And then lowered his head to taste the sweetness of her passion.
Billie almost jolted off the bed from the thrust of his tongue. She grabbed the bedcovers, called him names only used by seasoned seamen and begged him to end her torture.
“As you wish, m’lady,” he said with a soft laugh, and slipped over her, easing himself inside her until he himself could stand no more and ended his tender entrance with a forceful plunge.
They both lost complete control and mated with the primitive fervor of jungle animals in the throes of heat, wild and potent.
They lay still, drained and breathless. Tremors rippled through them and they shuddered with the aftermath of intense lovemaking.
Max rolled off her, remaining silent in an attempt to control his heavy breathing and calm his racing heart. He reached his hand out to his wife lacing his strong fingers with her limp ones.
“I gave you what you begged for. Are you satisfied?” he teased with a ragged breath.
With her breathing labored, she answered, “Extremely satisfied.”
He gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze.
“Not fair,” she said with a weak smile.
“What’s not fair?” His question hinted at ignorance but his smile suggested otherwise.
Her breathing returned to almost normal and she answered, “You’ve had more lessons than me. I need more practice.”
He laughed with delight and kissed her gently. “You are too precious, my love, and I am lucky to have found you, and I am lucky to have you love me without restraints.”
“I’ll always love you, Maximillian, and I’m glad that you are no ghost.”
He threw the bedcover over them be
fore gathering her to rest comfortably in his arms. “I must remain a ghost.”
“Why?” she asked, confused, and then suddenly realized the reason. “You would still be in danger.”
“As well as you. Your marriage to the vicar affords you some protection and I had hoped the culprit would approach John and make him an offer.”
“What offer?”
“Payment to use the manor as a central point for wrecks and smuggling.”
“He would never,” she said indignantly.
“Thank you for the confidence.”
She laughed. “I forget you both are one. What would you have done if approached?”
“I would have proudly fumbled my way through the exchange, making myself appear the passive, frightened fool and then, having discovered the person’s identity, taken the appropriate steps to see him and his cohorts jailed for life.”
“Were you approached after your father’s death with such a request?”
He shook his head. “My actions and outspoken condemnation of such abhorrent activities made it clear that I would not tolerate such a ludicrous proposition.”
“Put your foot in your mouth, did you?” she teased with a poke of her elbow to his ribs.
“That I did, but my father’s senseless death left me livid and I sought nothing but revenge.”
She offered her sincere sympathy. “I’m sorry about your father. He is a wonderful man.”
“Billie,” he said calmly and with regret. “You do realize my father is dead?”
She sprang up and jabbed him in the chest. “Your father is truly a magnificent ghost. I love when he materializes through the bushes and walls and . . .”
He looked at her strangely while she tapped her finger to her lips and searched the room with an intent stare.
“Where is the secret passageway which enables you to enter this chamber?”
“To the left of the wardrobe near the corner of the room and where the shadows conveniently seal my entrance.”
“Where else in the house?”
“Secret passages run throughout the house, connecting room after room.”
“That was how I heard you that day in the receiving parlor when you visited as John?”
Donna Fletcher Page 27