“Yes,” he said and explained. “Instead of leaving the manor, I slipped through the passage behind the foyer mirror—”
She interrupted. “Where I saw you the day after my arrival.”
He grinned with guilt. “If you hadn’t been so shocked and intimidated you would have realized there was no glass. The glass is on a panel that slides into the wall where I keep a change of clothing for John and Max.”
“And where you changed that day into Max.”
He nodded. “Correct. I needed time to make the transformation, so I changed in the passageway in the receiving parlor while we spoke.”
“And when we were alone—”
He finished for her. “I waited until you were distracted and not facing me and I transformed my gentle vicar’s tone to—”
It was Billie’s turn to finish. “Max’s demanding one.”
“Correct again,” he said and pulled her down across him. “And Max the demanding one is now going to demand that you keep your nose out of this investigation. I will handle it from this point on. I don’t want any harm to come to you.”
Billie ignored his orders. “I assume that since Pembrooke aids you in your charades that Matilda is also familiar with your dual characters?”
“Of course, and I must add that she was thrilled when you and John announced your intentions to marry.”
Billie gasped. “Our marriage, is it legal?”
Max caressed the small of her back with his hand. “I made certain of it.”
“Then I am legally your wife?”
“Yes,” he said and tugged her back into his arms. He kissed her gently, running his hand intimately over her soft flesh.
She sighed contentedly, her own hand searching his nakedness.
“Billie,” he whispered near her ear as his hand slipped between her thighs.
“Mmm” was her only response.
“You will obey my orders and cease all investigations into this matter. I insist.”
“Mmm,” she answered again, arching up to greet his fingers and purposely ignoring his warning. He would learn soon enough she would not follow his dictates.
Her moans of pleasure and urgent response to his touch drove all rational thought from his mind. He wanted her and she him; nothing else mattered, nothing. But a tiny nagging voice echoed a reminder that his wife was far from obedient and dutiful even when it came to their lovemaking.
And with a pleased smile he proceeded to make love to his wife.
o0o
Billie and Claudia sat in the conservatory; sharing afternoon tea.
“I always loved this room,” Claudia said, choosing a small cherry fruit tart from the silver serving tray. “And you have managed to only add to its beauty.”
Billie chose a raspberry tart and sat back in the white wicker chair to enjoy it. “I really only added a few choice pieces of furniture from the attic and naturally, with the onset of summer, a multitude of plants.”
“Stunning,” Claudia said before taking a bite of the cherry tart and glancing around the room that was brimming with hanging planters of greenery and an explosion of color. Soft pinks mingled with deep pink flowers that sprawled over the pot’s edges peering down on admiring viewers. White and red dovecotes complemented each other beautifully in overflowing baskets bunched together beside tables and chairs. Daisies, bright as the summer sun, peeked between spiked greens in Chinese ceramic planters that sat atop several tall marble column plant stands.
“I love flowers. They give such pleasure and beauty,” Billie said, after finishing her tea. She decided to discover just how much Claudia knew about village gossip. “I had the strangest warning yesterday.”
Claudia observed her with motherly concern. “Warning? Someone threatened you?”
“No, it was a warning . . . from Marlee.”
Claudia appeared confused. “What in heaven’s name would Marlee warn you about?”
“In all honesty I think I am getting close to discovering the identity of the person in St. Clair who commands the wreckers.”
“Nonsense, my dear,” Claudia said with a gentle pat to Billie’s hand. “I would be aware of any nefarious activity of a local. You are searching in the wrong place.”
“Then why the warning?”
Claudia shrugged. “I couldn’t say. Perhaps she’s searching for a good tale to spin.”
“She appeared serious to me.”
“Who appeared serious about what?”
Startled by her husband’s unexpected and suspicious entrance, Billie jumped.
Claudia patted her own chest. “Good gracious, John, your entrance was much too light-footed; you would almost think you were a ghost.”
Billie sent him a skeptical glance. “Wherever did you come from?”
“The church,” he said softly, and leaned down to kiss her cheek.
She whispered in his ear. “That’s not what I meant.”
He smiled and kissed her again, this time lightly on the lips. “I’ve missed you.”
Claudia beamed. “I knew you would be good for him, Billie. He was so stodgy that I feared he would never meet a woman. But marrying you has changed him.”
Billie decided to tease her husband. “If the women of the village only knew the other side of him.” She reached out to where he stood beside her chair and took her husband’s hand.
Claudia raised a curious brow and Max squeezed her hand in warning before unlocking their fingers and taking the seat beside her.
Billie ignored him. “He’s so tender, so loving and . . .” She paused briefly, running her hand slowly from his padded shoulder down his arm. Her thoughts rushed to his muscled flesh that lay hidden beneath the padding of the gray garments he wore and she finished with a whispered “. . . And so passionate.”
Claudia coughed softly, her hand covering her smile.
Her remark had the desired effect: John blushed, though she was certain Max steamed.
“This is not a proper conversation, Billie,” he warned and fumbled with his glasses.
Billie appeared contrite, her hand moving to his chest, slipping inside his coat and stroking him much too personally. “I’m so sorry, it’s just that I love you so very much.”
“How very lovely and so romantic,” Claudia said with a sigh.
“I can’t get enough of him,” Billie said, her hidden fingers brazenly teasing his taut nipple beneath his shirt.
John closed his hand over her wrist and slowly pulled her hand away, but not before she flicked her thumb across the hardened peak and felt her husband shudder.
“I love you just as much, my dear,” he said, though his voice sounded strained.
“This does my heart good,” Claudia said tearfully. “I had so hoped my matchmaking was accurate and now . . .” She patted her tear-filled eyes with her white lace handkerchief. “I see that you two are truly in love.”
Billie reached across to caress her husband’s leg. “We’re just two lovebirds.” Her dramatic sigh matched the one that Claudia released.
John patted his wife’s hand a little too sternly before clamping it down on his leg with his own hand.
He spoke softly but with strength and verve. “You have no idea, Claudia, the extent of the emotion that I feel for my wife.”
Billie smiled with exuberance and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek and whisper in his ear. “Are you aroused? I am.”
He turned his head quickly to kiss her cheek and responded, “You’ll pay for this.”
She grinned and licked her lips suggestively and with a flourish turned to grab the serving tray, holding it up in front of her husband. “A tart?”
“Do have one, John, they are simply delicious,” Claudia suggested.
He accepted the tart politely, thinking that his wife purposely acted the perfect tart and that she was blatantly aware of how much she had aroused him. He wanted her so badly that he strained against his breeches and she knew it as well. She had graciously and with a wicked sm
ile placed a white linen napkin across his lap, concealing his bulge.
Billie fixed John a cup of tea while Claudia chatted incessantly about the qualities of a marriage filled with love.
Claudia took her leave ten minutes later, hurrying off in a flourish, having forgotten an important appointment she was to keep.
Billie as usual walked Claudia to the door to the usual disapproval of Pembrooke.
When she turned her husband stood behind her, standing straight and tall and minus his glasses, coat, waistcoat and padding.
She smiled sweetly.
He grabbed her by the arm and propelled her along the hall to his study where he released her and slammed the door, bolting it.
“You think to tease me in front of guests?” he asked, his voice sharp and his hands shedding himself of John. He yanked the mole from his face, freed his hair to fall loose and almost ripped his shirt off his body using it to wipe the makeup away and reveal Max’s darker complexion.
She backed up nearer to the desk. “Now, Max, I meant no harm.”
He laughed and strode toward her. “No harm?” He grabbed her hand and placed it over his swollen manhood. “You call this no harm?”
He waited for her to apologize, to weep her regret, to . . .
She stared him straight in the eyes and daringly cupped him in her hand, squeezing ever so gently.
He dropped his forehead to rest softly against hers. “You will drive me to madness.”
“Can we go together?” she murmured and reached to unfasten his breeches and slip her warm hand inside to more intimately stroke him.
He moaned and shuddered as he responded to her touch, swelling and pulsating in her hand.
“I love touching you,” she said in short, anxious breaths as she sought his lips.
He met her eager mouth with his impatient one and his hands sought the back of her garment, ready to tear the dress off her.
“Am I interrupting anything?” came the familiar voice of his father from behind.
Max moaned.
Billie instantly removed her hand and hastily fastened her husband’s breeches to his disappointment, whispering to him, “Don’t you just hate when ghosts drop in uninvited?”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Billie walked around her husband and greeted her father-in-law with a hug and a kiss.
“I’ve interrupted,” Oran said contritely.
“Whatever made you think that, Father?” Max said, turning around, bracing his backside against the desk and crossing his arms over his bare chest. Oran shrugged and took a seat in one of the twin high-backed chairs in front of the cold hearth. “Could it be your near state of undress?”
Billie kept her smile to herself when she dropped down into the chair beside Oran.
Max mumbled beneath his breath and marched to the door, unlocking and opening it. He summoned Pembrooke with an angry shout and in moments Max was slipping into a clean shirt.
“You should knock before you enter,” Max warned his father, seating himself in a chair opposite them.
“The way you always did, dear?” Billie asked with a laugh.
Max shook his head. “As you can see, she is not an obedient wife.”
“But she is the perfect wife for you,” Oran said proudly.
Max ran a reflective glance over his wife. She was undeniably beautiful, undeniably willful and wickedly passionate . . . and she was all his. “That she is, Father.”
Billie smiled with glee. “You both are so much alike, it’s delightful to watch you two together.”
“I am more delighted that you two are husband and wife. I only wish . . .” His words trailed off and he wiped the tear from the corner of his eye. “There isn’t much time left.”
“What do you mean?” Billie asked anxiously. She didn’t care for his sense of finality.
“You, my dearest daughter, are going to help lay my soul to rest.”
Billie felt her husband’s sorrow, it was tangible and it matched her own. She didn’t want to lose Oran; she loved him dearly and yet she realized that only an unselfish love could free him. It wasn’t fair for him to be stranded on this earthly plane when he no longer belonged here. His spirit needed freedom and she intended to set him free.
“I must settle the mystery surrounding your death,” she said, confirming her suspicions.
“It is my responsibility,” Max insisted. “Billie is not to interfere or endanger her life.”
Oran shook his head slowly. “You haven’t listened to me, Maximillian. I think perhaps you don’t wish me to leave.”
Max stood, walked over to face the hearth and braced his arm on the mahogany mantel.
Billie empathized with her husband. If her mother or father had returned as a ghost she would have been selfish and wanted them to remain with her. The hurt and pain of losing a loved one was unbearable.
“I love you, Father,” Max said softly.
Billie heard his pain and ached to comfort him, but she understood this was an emotional matter between father and son.
“And I you, my son, more than you will ever know.” Oran paused to collect himself, choking back his tears. “But we both knew this time would come. I must leave and Billie has done much in securing information to help me in making my final journey.”
Max turned and swallowed his pain though it shined ever so brightly and hurtful in his eyes. “I will help you.”
“We both can help,” Billie offered pleadingly.
Max shut his eyes a brief moment and shook his head. “Even if I order you to mind your business in this matter, you won’t, will you?”
“Of course I won’t and this is my business. After all, I am family.”
“She has a point,” Oran agreed.
“I’m outnumbered,” Max said and threw up his hands in surrender.
“Good,” Oran said and rubbed his hands together. “Now to get down to business. I have learned that Derry Jones has been seen around St. Clair.”
“Where?” Billie asked excitedly, moving to the edge of her seat.
“You’re not to go anywhere near him,” Max ordered sharply. “I will see to this Jones character.”
“But I thought—”
Max interrupted her. “You will pursue your investigation into this mysterious person that you insist is the mastermind behind the wreckers.”
Oran reached out and patted her hand. “He’s right, Billie. You should continue to search for this person.”
Billie was about to object most vehemently when she caught the conspiratorial wink that Oran sent her. “I suppose I should. The person’s identity may prove to be worthwhile.”
“Precisely,” Max said. “And I shall see to Derry Jones.”
“Good,” Oran said and stood. “Now I shall leave you both to handle matters and bid you a good day.”
“Father,” Max said anxiously.
Oran smiled sadly. “I will return, my son, and we will talk more.”
Max nodded and watched his father disappear into a puff of smoke and fade away.
Billie walked over to her husband and reached for his hand, locking their fingers tightly together. He looked down at her and her heart swelled with sorrow for his pain.
“I thought I would never get over his death and now I must go through the pain again.”
“I will be here for you,” she said softly.
Max kissed her gently. “That means so very much to me.”
She kissed him back, lingering on his lips until she finally whispered, “Make love to me.”
Max scooped his wife up into his arms. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”
“You’ll never get a chance to find out,” she teased as he carried her out of the room and upstairs to their bedchamber where he proceeded to satisfy her request.
o0o
Billie was in the kitchen the next afternoon transferring freshly baked shortbread cookies that had just finished cooling to a serving plate when Oran materialized before
her eyes on the opposite side of the table where she stood.
“Good heavens, Oran, you frightened the wits out of me,” she said, her hands shaking so badly that she shook the last cookie right off the wooden spatula.
“I am so sorry, my dear, but you must come with me immediately. We have no time to waste,” Oran urged.
Billie dropped the spatula and untied her apron. “Whatever is the matter?”
“Derry Jones is down in the caves with one of his cohorts.”
“Max isn’t here.”
He rushed to the pantry and grabbed her boots, answering her on his return. “There isn’t time to wait for him.”
Billie hurried out of her slippers and into the boots. She reached for the lantern.
“You can’t take that.”
She shook her head. “You’re right. They will see the light’s approach.”
He nodded and activated the lever, opening the entrance to the passageway. “You will have to trust me to lead the way.”
Billie didn’t hesitate, she reached for his hand. “Let’s go.”
Their descent to the caves below was slow and frightening, the dark dampness closed in around them, reminding Billie of demon shadows swallowing them whole.
If it wasn’t for Oran’s sure and steady lead she was certain she would have turned around and run away in fright, though with the thick cloak of darkness covering them she would surely have lost her way. They neared the cave where she had often visited with him and he stopped to press a finger to her lips in silent warning for her to remain quiet.
She nodded and together they edged their way closer to the voices in the near distance.
“I tell you she’s going to give you trouble,” the rough voice said with a hollow laugh.
Billie followed Oran as he eased them through a narrow rock entrance that brought them out to a slim space behind the crates. She barely had room to breathe, her breasts brushed the high stack of wooden crates in front of her and the back of her dress dampened quickly from the sweat of the stone wall.
She listened intently while still clinging to Oran’s hand. She needed to know he was there beside her, his presence, though ghostly, gave her strength.
“She’ll do as I say,” Derry snapped.
“She hasn’t so far,” the other man argued.
Donna Fletcher Page 28