by Vanda Vadas
Zach felt the quickening of her climax. He increased her torment by flicking the sensitive nub of nerves with his tongue. Again, he delved into her sweet heat.
She trembled, then convulsed beneath his mouth. Each wave of her climax brought him closer to his peak. Every throb tested the limits of self-restraint. When the ripples receded, he slackened his grip on her hips, granting her a measure of movement, allowing her the advantage of where his tongue explored her.
He won back control and held her still. With the gentlest of suction, with each lick and flick of his tongue, he coaxed her into a mindless frenzy.
He pulled back just as she reached the brink of yet another awakening. This time she would shatter with him buried deep inside her.
Using an economy of strength and movement, he positioned her legs to straddle his waist, and stood, lifting her with him. His aching tip sat poised at her swollen entrance.
‘Look at me, Eloise.’ His voice shook with desire. He wanted to see and memorise every detailed nuance in her shifting expression when he entered her.
She did as he asked. Hunger clouded those emerald eyes. Recognising the same physical intimacy he felt, Zach drew pleasure from the exquisite agony of easing himself inside her. She was wet, tight, her muscles stretching to accommodate him.
His heart hammered. Blood rushed through his veins and pounded in his ears.
He drowned inside her, inch by glorious inch. He hadn’t believed she could possibly want this as much as he did.
He believed it now. It was there in her eyes, her face, in the vigorous beat of her heart and in each breathless gasp. Her eyes closed and with a long, jagged breath she cried his name.
Zach, too, closed his eyes and paused to savour her heat, aware only of the woman who had fast become his night, and day, and whom he knew, now, he could not live without. In her arms, nothing else existed.
He relaxed his buttocks and withdrew – not completely – on an easy slide. One swift thrust and again he filled her with his thick length. Her muscles clenched tight around him as if staking her claim, never to relinquish her hold. Her lips came down on his. Zach plunged his tongue deep inside her mouth with as much fervour as his next thrust.
Her thighs clamped firm about his waist and she shattered with explosive completion. Zach surged high with one last thrust. Final release was accompanied by a broken groan.
Another tremor shook his heart. The walls of the seed buried within, burst, and took root. Tender emotion shafted through him.
His breath rasped against her ear. ‘Eloise.’
Chapter Eighteen
Julian returned home under the cover of night.
A belligerent Lady Wentworth turned her nose up at his dirty and dishevelled disguise, refusing him permission to approach his pregnant wife until he bathed, shaved and changed clothes. When he finally made his appearance in the drawing room, Catherine threw herself into his open arms.
He kissed her long and hard, heedless of his in-laws and Maisy sitting in full view of their intimate reunion.
Lord Wentworth cleared his throat. ‘Such devotion is touching, young man, but we all hunger to hear your news.’
Julian whispered into his wife’s ear. ‘If not for our audience, I’d satisfy my hunger for you now.’ He drew back a fraction, pleased to see an instant blush colour her cheeks.
‘And I with you,’ she whispered back.
His protective hand rested on her rounded belly. ‘Our child, how does he fare?’
‘She fares well.’
He smiled. ‘Then I am well pleased.’ It was a game he enjoyed playing.
With the servants dismissed, and the doors closed, Lord Wentworth wasted no time in opening the discussion. ‘Tell us of your journey. Did you find the men you were looking for?’
Lady Wentworth sat on the edge of her seat, eager for news. ‘Are you any closer to learning of Eloise’s whereabouts? How does the matter stand?’
Julian settled his wife onto the gilded settee and took his place beside her. He spoke of his encounter with the coachmen, retelling their version of Eloise’s abduction.
‘They mentioned the highwayman’s consideration for their safety, albeit having been restrained. Maisy, you said he paid you the same respect?’
‘Yes, my lord. He was terse and intimidating, yet although the carriage door was secured from the outside, he instructed his man to leave the windows open. I fear I would have otherwise fainted from lack of air and shock.’
‘Of course.’ He carried on. ‘These men said the highwayman showed interest only in His Grace. My encounter with him was similar. He wouldn’t engage me when challenged, saying his quarrel was with His Grace. It was I who forced his hand with a sword, and I’ve not seen such skill with a blade since –’
A flash of memory cut short his words.
Catherine swept up his hand in hers. ‘What is it? You’ve gone deathly pale.’
Like a knee-jerk reaction, Julian’s gaze swung to the portrait above the fireplace.
The others followed his gaze. Lord Wentworth caught the direction of his thoughts. ‘Your father. He was the best swordsman in the whole of England. The twist of his wrist was lightning fast, that’s for sure.’
As was the highwayman’s. Julian had begrudged the man respect for his adeptness with a sword, and had fleetingly recognised his style as being similar to another’s. At the time, rage had prevented Julian from giving it further thought.
Now, with a moment to reflect, he recalled his father being selective with whom he chose to instruct. A handful of men, if that. One came immediately to mind.
Impossible! That traitor was dead.
Catherine squeezed his hand. ‘This man, was he as good as your father?’
‘Better. You saw for yourself the state of my silk vest.’
She nodded. ‘It was missing a few buttons, the fabric undamaged.’
‘Yes. His handiwork. Precise and clean, just like my father. This man wielded a sword with exceptional skill and in the blink of an eye he stripped me of my mine. I can’t tell you how humiliating that was.’
His hand slipped from Catherine’s. He stood and strode towards the portrait, as if lured by demons. Scrambled thoughts and clues swam in his head like a hundred puzzle pieces with no hint as to the picture they should form.
How many times over the years had Miles Fenton crept into his mind? The sting of betrayal still left Julian bitterly cold. There was no resemblance between the highwayman’s strength and stature and the tall, slender youth of ten years ago. They could not possibly be one and the same now.
Or could they?
The same colour hair … the same obsidian eyes … the way he held and brandished the sword. Like master, like apprentice.
Ludicrous! Miles Fenton, once a friend, was long dead.
Julian shrugged off the idea and turned around. ‘I was no match for this man and he knew it. He could have run me through. Instead, he knocked me out cold and escaped to God knows where.’
Catherine laid a palm over her stomach and their unborn child. ‘We’re grateful he spared your life.’
Julian’s hands clenched into tight fists. ‘An irony in itself that I should be indebted to a man who has abducted my sister. Apparently, he referred to Elly as Gareth’s fiancée.’
‘Fiancée?’ Spoken in unison, Catherine, Maisy and the Wentworths looked a picture of surprise.
Julian spread his hands wide. ‘A misunderstanding, of course, yet it could possibly explain why he took Elly. For money. A ransom.’
‘Despicable rogue!’ Lady Wentworth scoffed.
‘Wait a minute, Julian.’ Catherine seemed to give it thought. ‘Engaged? Could it somehow be true?’
‘Definitely not! Gareth is constantly badgering me for Elly’s hand in marriage but I haven’t as yet given him my permission. She flat out refuses to marry him.’ Gnawing suspicion had him turn his gaze on Maisy. ‘What transpired in the carriage?’
‘Nothing, my lord. His Gr
ace made no such proposal. Unless … unless he did so when I’d nodded off.’ With this admission, Maisy looked suddenly sheepish.
Lady Wentworth looked most indignant. ‘It’s a slight against you, Julian, if His Grace has proposed behind your back. You must confront him on the matter.’
‘I’ll confront him about more than that! Rest assured I’ll be demanding an explanation from him tomorrow.’
Lord Wentworth shook his head. ‘Trouble is, he’s not yet returned from London. In your absence, he sent word advising that a matter of urgent business has kept him there. He said he would continue his efforts in pursuing the highwayman’s identity. We are to keep him informed should we learn first of Eloise’s whereabouts.’
A flash of hostility heated Julian’s veins. ‘I see. Did he indicate when he might return?’
‘No.’
Lady Wentworth looked aghast. ‘What matter of business could possibly take precedence over Eloise’s abduction? Nothing else should concern His Grace other than her recovery and return.’
‘Precisely,’ said Julian. ‘It’s been two weeks since Elly’s disappearance. A letter of demand might already await Gareth’s return.’ He summarised the coachmen’s plight, telling of their unfair dismissal, Gareth’s poor treatment of them and other staff in his employ and the threat placed on the coachmen’s lives should they speak out against him.
He added, ‘According to these men, there were whispers among the servants of the occasional clandestine meeting between Gareth and men of questionable character. They would meet in the dead of night, on and around the perimeters of his estate.’
The women listened in shocked disbelief. It struck Julian as odd that Lord Wentworth didn’t look at all surprised, even though he listened with intent. ‘And lastly, it appears that Viscount Derby was acquainted with Gareth. That is, until they had a falling out.’ Julian resumed his seat beside Catherine.
‘Over what?’ she asked.
‘Keep in mind that what I tell you all is confidential, even though it’s second- if not third-hand gossip from Gareth’s servants. I can’t confirm its validity, but it’s something I must investigate. Several years back, Gareth allegedly sold tenanted farming land to the viscount, but this land, somewhere to the north of England, wasn’t his to sell.’
‘Good Lord!’ sputtered Lord Wentworth. ‘This is a most serious crime.’
‘Yes, and so it goes that Gareth knowingly handed over false title. When Derby went to visit and claim the land, he discovered he’d been duped. He confronted Gareth, who denied everything, right down to ever having a conversation about the purchase of land.
‘Apparently, Gareth had Derby thrown off his estate. He was warned never to set foot there again. Gareth threatened to shame and ruin Derby and his family if the matter was mentioned to a single soul. Derby suffered the loss and kept silent given that, at the time, he had two unmarried daughters. Their reputation and future marriage prospects were at risk.’
Lady Wentworth gasped in outrage. ‘I cannot believe His Grace capable of such a cunning and ruthless deed!’
Lord Wentworth shifted in his chair. ‘I can!’
His sudden outburst earned him a probing glare from Catherine. ‘Father?’
He remained tight-lipped.
‘Father. If you’ve discovered something about His Grace, then you must tell us.’
‘If I had any news worthy of your ears, I would share it.’
Julian caught and read between the lines of the helpless look Lord Wentworth sent him. The man knew something he did not wish to divulge with the ladies present. ‘What your father is suggesting, is that perhaps His Grace is not all he’s led us to believe.’
It was not enough to appease his wife. ‘How could we have misjudged his character? You and he are as close as brothers. What’s the point of his deception? Why did we not hear a whisper of this scandal?’
‘Title bestows power, my love. If what the coachmen said is to be heeded, then the servants fear for their positions, if not their lives. Even if Derby had taken it to the courts, who would have believed a viscount over a duke?’
‘I suppose so,’ she said. ‘Being widowed, and with his daughters now married, it perhaps explains why he’s become somewhat of a recluse. But why would Gareth, a man with his title and wealth, feel the need to steal from someone beneath him?’
Julian shrugged. ‘I’ll investigate these allegations. Gareth may have wronged the highwayman with some such similar offense. Or perhaps someone is paying the highwayman to fight their battle in seeking recompense. If Elly is perceived to be betrothed to Gareth then she becomes the perfect ransom leverage. Whatever the case, I’ll have the truth from Gareth, even if I have to beat it out of him.’
Lord Wentworth said, ‘I suggest you first meet with Viscount Derby.’
‘That is my intention. I’ll dispatch a letter to him tonight. Recluse or not, he will receive me.’
Catherine uttered a sudden loud gasp and rocked forwards, her hands flattening against her belly. Julian’s arm came swiftly about her. ‘My love?’
‘Our child has a strong kick,’ she said.
Julian’s chest deflated on a heavy sigh, relieved that nothing sinister plagued his wife.
‘Ah, my grandson is eager to introduce himself,’ said Lord Wentworth.
‘Granddaughter, I think father. Wilful at that.’
‘Like her Aunt Elly,’ Julian teased.
Catherine winced. ‘If our child has inherited the high-spirited nature of her aunt I’ll expect each of you to lend a hand in taming her.’
Lady Wentworth wore a devilish grin. ‘I’ll instruct my granddaughter in all things ladylike. I’ll leave the pistol and sword to her aunt.’
‘Mother!’ Catherine wore a deep scowl. ‘As much as I cherish my sister-in-law, my daughter shall stay well clear of those things.’
Julian caressed her cheek. ‘And if I wish her to be proficient with a weapon?’
Catherine captured and kissed his hand. The smile she gifted him was as sweet as her voice. ‘Husband. If you wish to ever sire a son, you’ll realise the error of your thinking.’
‘Yes, dear.’ The two-word quiescent reply was as much a part of their teasing repartee as was their harmless dispute over whether their firstborn would be a son or a daughter.
‘Please, help me up, husband. I’m fading fast and so will retire to bed.’
Julian eased Catherine to her feet and gave her over to the good care of her mother and Maisy. ‘Good night, ladies.’ He closed the door behind them, took a seat opposite his father-in-law and looked at him expectantly.
‘It’s not good news, Julian. It will shock you, as it did me.’ He drew a long breath. ‘My trusted acquaintance, the Scotsman, followed Gareth to one of London’s backstreet brothels. Ian passed himself off as the youngest son of a wealthy laird. A misfit, a family outcast, one who gambles his allowance and takes his pleasure with whores.’
‘And Gareth fell for it?’
‘To the finest of details. Let me apprise you.’
Julian sat horrified, listening to the way in which Gareth had conducted himself: his substantial gambling loss; the way he squirmed when the subject of Eloise’s abduction had been raised. His base and despicable manhandling of the young whore turned Julian’s stomach.
Gareth’s twisted mind and perverse fantasy, to blindfold and force the girl to play the part of Eloise, thoroughly sickened Julian. He surged out of his chair and paced the floor, slamming one fisted hand into the palm of the other. ‘How could I have not known this darker side to him?’
‘None of us did.’
Julian gave a grunt of disgust. ‘For years I’ve encouraged my sister to marry him –’
‘You only encouraged what you thought best for her.’
Stricken, Julian stopped pacing. His gaze slid to Lord Wentworth. ‘If he was to get his hands on her dowry …’
‘Indeed! He would lose it as quickly as he gained it.’
Ju
lian’s eyes shut tight. He pressed a palm to his forehead. ‘The highwayman. I accused him of being a man without scruples or honour. He warned me. He said to look for such a man among my peers.’
His eyes flashed open. His hand fell to his side, just as pieces of the puzzle fell into place. ‘He meant Gareth! Why did I not see that before?’
‘How could you have possibly known?’
Enraged, Julian’s fist pounded the mantelpiece. His head sank into his hands, fingers spearing his hair. A sense of helplessness hollowed out his gut. ‘How could I have been so wrong about a man I’ve known since childhood? I trusted him. Implicitly. He saved my life, for God’s sake!’
‘We all trusted him.’
‘I can’t begin to tell you what I’m feeling right now.’
‘Devastated, I’m sure.’
‘No.’ Julian spun around. ‘Murderous! It should have been Gareth who died in that fire instead of my parents and –’
Miles.
Julian’s heart thudded beneath his chest. His thoughts led him down a path that held no logical or feasible possibilities. Then again, given what had now come to light about Gareth, anything was possible.
Lord Wentworth stood and approached Julian to lay a comforting hand on his shoulder. ‘Calm yourself. We shall get to the bottom of this.’
‘How am I to face him and not strike him down?’ Julian couldn’t keep the rage from his voice.
‘Gather the facts before you confront him. Hearsay is not enough. Perhaps Derby will shed light on the situation.’
Julian’s hands formed into tight fists. ‘I can’t look Gareth in the eye and pretend to know nothing of his lechery, his deceit, his violence!’
‘You must. For Eloise’s sake.’
Julian struggled with this. ‘Not a word to our wives. It disgusts me to think of him occupying the same room as them. I’ll deflect any attempt he makes to visit this house.’
‘Catherine is soon to give birth. This will be excuse enough to keep visitors at bay.’