Ian spread his fingers in the dark richness of her hair, luxuriating in the texture of it. Taking her innocence had left him hungry and aching for more of her.
Tess glanced up at him then. Her beautiful face was still flushed, her eyes hazy with sated passion, her thick sable hair a sultry tangle, her mouth swollen from his kisses.
Remembering the ripe softness of her lips, Ian felt a rush of desire that only made him want to be inside her again. He wouldn’t use her body so harshly her first time, though. Yet he knew one night with Tess would never satisfy him. He wanted the rights of a lover, of a husband. He wanted to lose himself in the tempting fire of her—
“I will return to my own bedchamber in the morning, Rotham.”
Her husky declaration coming so unexpectedly dashed cold water over his alluring fantasies.
Wondering if she was merely unnerved by the potent emotions sizzling between them, as he was, he kept his voice even when he replied. “You are welcome to sleep in my bed from now on.”
“I see no need for us to share a bedchamber. You promised we could live separate lives, remember?”
Ian didn’t dispute her, although familiar irritation clawed at him. It was bad enough that his own wife didn’t want to share his bed. It stung more that Tess was pretending indifference after the remarkable passion they had just shared. How could she so blatantly ignore her obvious desire for him?
Then again, he would be wise to ignore his own fierce desire for her, Ian realized. Just now, self-preservation needed to be his chief concern. Particularly since after tonight, his feelings for Tess were even more raw and conflicted.
He was in perilous, uncharted waters; possessiveness had sunk its talons deep into him.
He meant to fight his vulnerability to her, though, Ian vowed. He’d seen her effect on other men, his own cousin most of all. He could well remember Richard being reduced to a lovesick supplicant with Tess, behaving like an adoring puppy, hanging on her every word, her enchanting smile, her delightful laughter.
He had no intention of loving Tess, Ian promised himself. He wouldn’t let himself be drawn into that desperate affliction as his cousin had been. Especially when she would never return any tender feelings of love for him.
Tess was still in love with his dead cousin, Ian reminded himself grimly. He couldn’t compete with the beloved memory of a war hero.
At the reflection, he felt a muscle in his jaw harden. He didn’t want to compete for Tess’s affections.
But clearly he needed to make their battlefield more even. To ensure that his weakness for his lovely wife was not just one-sided.
There would likely never be love between them, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t do everything in his power to make Tess want him just as fiercely as he wanted her.
Surely I can learn to control my desire for him.
—Diary Entry of Miss Tess Blanchard
Hoping to avoid the servants, Tess returned to her own room at daybreak, wearing Rotham’s dressing gown. But as she reached her bedchamber door, she spied Fanny coming down the corridor from the opposite direction.
Her friend followed her inside, evidently eager to have a coze.
“I have been waiting for ages for you to return,” Fanny said at once. “When you didn’t answer my knock earlier, I presumed you were with the duke—and I see I was right.” Her perceptive gaze took in Tess’s nightclothes and passion-bruised mouth. “Well? Was the consummation what you expected?”
Color mounted her cheeks at the intimate question. The consummation had been perfectly glorious, was her silent response. To Tess’s surprise, however, Rotham hadn’t made love to her again after that first time. She’d spent the remainder of the night sleeping wrapped in his arms, and he had let her go this morning with nothing more than a casual, almost lazy kiss. Even so, she was acutely conscious of her lost virginity. She could feel the new sensitivity of her body … a tingling ache between her thighs, a swelling heaviness in her breasts.
“Yes, you were right about everything, Fanny,” Tess admitted.
A rather smug smile touched the courtesan’s mouth. “So, does this mean you will be moving into your husband’s rooms?”
“No, it does not,” she replied emphatically. “I only stayed with Rotham last night because I was frightened.” Quickly Tess explained about being startled out of her dreams by eerie sensations and taking refuge in Rotham’s rooms. “Our marriage is consummated now, but we have agreed to continue keeping separate apartments.”
“A pity,” Fanny responded. Yet she seemed to understand Tess’s concern. “If you are careful, you can still enjoy passion without involving any tender emotions. There is no reason to deny yourself the pleasure of having Rotham as a lover.”
Tess shook her head. “I don’t want to risk it. What about you, Fanny?” she asked to change the subject. “Did you make any progress in your clandestine courtship of Basil?”
The courtesan’s expression turned soft. “I believe so, Tess. I suspect he understood my ploy about fearing the ghost, yet he didn’t object to my sharing his room. And it was the most amazing thing … all we did was converse before we fell asleep. I have never, ever done that before—shared a man’s bed when nothing happened. It was … nice.”
Tess’s heart warmed at Fanny’s confession, although it seemed droll that their situations were completely reversed. Fanny was discovering the pleasures of friendship and companionship while courting, and Tess was learning about carnal relations.
“I am even beginning to hope,” Fanny added softly, “that Basil is coming around to the idea of marriage. But it is best to let him proceed at his own pace.”
Tess agreed, and said so. “It is clear to me that Basil worships you and only needs a bit more encouragement. I predict it won’t be long before your strategy bears fruit and you achieve your heart’s desire.”
She was not as confident that her own strategy in dealing with Rotham would work to her satisfaction. Particularly an hour later, when, after a long, hot bath, she joined him in the breakfast room along with Fanny and Basil.
Merely looking at Rotham aroused stirrings of unbridled lust inside Tess. When he scrutinized her with that penetrating gray gaze, as if remembering what lay beneath her gown, her breasts tightened with a delicious ache. And when he seated her at the table and made a point of brushing his fingers across her nape, the pulsing throb between her thighs instantly brought back memories of Rotham moving inside her and giving her the kind of stunning pleasure she had only imagined before.
All through breakfast, Tess was constantly aware of him and her own dilemma. She wanted Rotham, there was no doubt. In his arms she felt alive … gloriously, passionately alive. She cherished that feeling, yet she knew she was wise to keep their marriage strictly a legal union rather than viewing him as her lover.
Tess was therefore quite glad when Rotham said he planned to spend the day searching for the castle’s architectural renderings with Eddowes, and thus would not be making any calls with her that afternoon. The less time she spent with her handsome husband, the better—except that Tess couldn’t help ribbing him about his motives.
“Are you certain you are not merely trying to avoid Vicar Potts? You know I mean to call on him today.”
Rotham’s response held wry amusement. “I admit, being spared the annoyance of listening to the loquacious clergyman prose on and on about his flock will be a relief. But in truth, my purpose is less selfish. Finding evidence of a hidden passage at Falwell will be our best chance at discovering how our ‘ghost’ is getting about the castle without detection. Invading your bedchamber was the last straw, and I mean to catch whoever it is.”
Tess shivered in remembrance. She wanted to expose the ghost as much as he did, so she approved when Rotham retired to the library with his secretary and Fanny, whose manuscript draft was nearing completion.
Tess spent the morning in the drawing room attending to her neglected correspondence. It was perhaps two hours later when she was interrupt
ed by Hiddleston, who said his grace wished to speak with her in the library.
Setting down her pen, Tess answered the summons and found the three of them—Rotham, Basil, and Fanny—poring over sketches of the castle’s design.
“Eddowes unearthed the drawings we were looking for,” Rotham informed her. “A remarkable feat, considering that they were buried behind some history tomes.”
At his praise, Tess noted that Basil smiled modestly but looked pleased with himself. When they stepped aside to let her see the drawings, she realized she was looking at floor plans for each level of the castle and also for the towers that had been built in the previous century.
“Do the plans show any secret passageways?” she asked Rotham.
“No, but by measuring the inner and outer dimensions of various rooms and corridors, we may be able to determine discrepancies in the placement of the walls. You and I will begin by surveying your bedchamber.”
“Just the two of us?”
“I think it best for Eddowes and Miss Irwin to continue their usual work here in the library. The ‘ghost’ could have some connection to the castle staff, and I don’t want him to know we are trying to ascertain his method of access.”
It was in that manner that they found the secret panel in Tess’s room. By using a length of twine marked off in feet, Rotham proved that the inner dimensions of the chamber were not as wide as the drawings indicated they should be. And by examining the wainscoting closely, they discovered a movable panel near the hearth, with a catch that released upon applying pressure to a certain point.
The panel slid open with a soft scraping sound to reveal a narrow passage, and closed with a “snick” that Tess recognized from her dream.
She shuddered to realize that last night someone truly had entered her room by way of the panel and touched her face while she slept.
Rotham’s expression turned grim as he evidently came to the same conclusion. “You are not sleeping here again until our damned ghost is caught,” he said resolutely.
Tess gave him no argument. There was no way she would remain in this bedchamber tonight—although that didn’t mean she would again take refuge in Rotham’s room or bed. But she would deal with that problem later, Tess reflected as he lit a lamp. For now they had a hidden passage to explore.
It was an extremely tight fit for Rotham to squeeze into the dusty, airless space, and awkward for Tess, wearing skirts, to climb the rungs of a ladder that led to the floor above. And given the dirt that had collected over a century, her gown was filthy by the time they crawled into a cupboard in a linen pantry, where they narrowly missed startling a chambermaid at work.
When the maid left, they quietly retraced their path to Tess’s bedchamber so they could study the architectural drawings and discuss their next steps without whispering.
They knew there could very well be other secret passages that provided access to various rooms of the castle—how many they weren’t certain. But Rotham decided it was more important to discover how the intruder could enter the castle without being seen.
“There has to be a tunnel below the castle,” he mused. “I want to search the cellars next, and then the towers.”
* * *
Avoiding the castle servants while examining the cellars would be much harder, they concluded, as would justifying their presence without raising suspicions. Therefore, even though a duke and duchess needed no reason to explore their own residence, they gathered Fanny from the library to provide a logical excuse for scouring the castle depths, claiming they were plotting some new scenes for her novel.
Their search of the cellars came up frustratingly empty, however. It wasn’t until they scrutinized the second of the two towers, on the lowest floor, that they finally found a panel in the wainscoting similar to the one in Tess’s bedchamber that hid a secret passage. But while the concealed space off her room had been dusty and stifling, this narrow passage was cold and dank.
Taking two lanterns, they squeezed through the panel opening and proceeded single file, with Rotham leading. A steep flight of wooden steps led to an underground tunnel hewn out of earth and rock. The tunnel eventually spilled out into a dark, shallow cave, they discovered.
A sliver of daylight glinting before them pointed to the cave’s entrance. Upon investigating, they found an opening in the rock that was shielded by a wall of lush vegetation and further hidden behind the tumbling cascade of a waterfall.
Beyond the waterfall, they could see the cove below Falwell Castle in the distance and hear the quiet rush of waves swelling against the sandy shore.
“This cave would be ideal for smugglers,” Rotham said, voicing what they were all thinking.
Turning back to explore the interior, they found a stash of contraband at one side, behind a low wall of boulders—a dozen casks of brandy as well as three sizeable chests that were padlocked.
“This evidence suggests that our ‘ghost’ is real,” he added with satisfaction, “and not the haunted spirit of my murdered ancestor. I’ll wager that whoever left this bounty has been using the tunnels to gain access to the castle.”
“Should we try to open the chests?” Tess asked.
“Not at present. We would have to break the locks, which could forewarn our culprits when they return to claim their goods.”
Tess nodded in understanding, although disappointed that the contents of the chests would have to remain a mystery for now.
Fanny spoke up then. “So what do you propose, your grace?”
“I want to catch our intruders in the act of stealing into the castle. For now we’ll use our own servants to set up a watch around the clock. We may have to trust the Hiddlestons, but I don’t want to involve the other castle staff in case they’re complicit.”
Tess frowned slightly. “Do we have enough of our own servants to mount a full-time watch?”
“I expect so. We’ll need at least two armed men per shift, but if Eddowes and I join our footmen and coachmen and grooms, that should be adequate to apprehend the smugglers if they reappear.”
“I would like to help,” Tess said earnestly.
“So would I,” Fanny seconded.
“We’ll see,” Rotham said noncommittally. “For now, let’s find the trail from the beach so we’ll have an alternate route to and from the castle other than the tunnel. We don’t know if the smugglers will be returning by sea or by land.”
They soon found a path through the woods that climbed up the bluff to the castle. Rotham identified the best places to lie in wait for their quarry, and upon retracing their steps to the caves, decided to divide the watch into six-hour shifts, with a man inside the cave and another outside, judging that one could hold the smugglers at gunpoint to prevent them from escaping while the other summoned reinforcements from the castle.
He wanted Tess’s two footmen to take the first watch, since Miles and Fletcher were trained in firearms and fisticuffs. Rotham was still hesitant to allow Tess to participate, however.
She was about to argue the point when she realized the time. “I have an appointment at the vicarage at two o’clock,” she said, regretting having to leave.
“I’ll accompany you,” Rotham informed her, “since I want to speak to the good reverend. Potts may have useful information about the local smugglers, even though a man of the cloth isn’t likely to be involved with the actual misdeeds.”
After setting the two footmen to guard the cave, Tess and Rotham rode saddle horses to call on the vicar rather than take a carriage and require their servants to drive. When they arrived, the congenial, silver-haired Gideon Potts fawned over the duke and showered Tess with gratitude for her efforts to help the poorest of his congregation.
“It is just amazing, your grace,” the vicar gushed to her, “We have been getting contributions daily, and it is all your doing.”
Rotham waited until Tess’s business was concluded before inquiring about his main interest.
The long-winded vicar obliged with a
n extensive sermon on the subject.
“There are not as many Freetraders nowadays as in the past, you see. Smuggling has died down because customs duties were reduced significantly once the long wars with France ended—which made the trade far less profitable. But truly, smuggling has never been considered all that grave a crime in these parts, your graces. Most Cornishmen are sympathetic to the cause and often aid the Brethren in avoiding the excisemen.”
He went on to explain that Freetraders were often seen as romantic adventurers performing a valued service.
“Outright thievery is another matter altogether, however.” Potts’s florid face grew solemn. “Sadly, we had a ring of thieves at work in the neighborhood over the past summer. Several of the great houses suffered break-ins, with valuable jewels and silver stolen. It is particularly worrisome, since innocents are being hurt. Only a week ago, two of Lord and Lady Shaw’s servants were struck on the head and rendered unconscious. The thieves have yet to be caught.”
Tess met Rotham’s gaze just then. From the arrested look in his eyes, she knew they were entertaining the same suspicions—that perhaps Falwell’s ghost might have some connection to the thieves.
When Rotham told the vicar about finding contraband in the caves below Falwell, Potts agreed it was possible that the miscreants were using the castle to hide their ill-gotten gains.
A short while later, Tess and Rotham politely took their leave. During the ride home, she asked him about proving that the thieves could be Falwell’s ghost. “Perhaps we should break the padlocks after all, to see if the chests contain any of the stolen jewels.”
“I intend to.”
“If so,” Tess mused aloud, “then it means we are dealing with an entire ring, and you will need more support to foil them. Surely now you will allow me to help watch the cave, and Fanny also.”
Rotham shook his head. “You heard Potts. These thieves are known to be violent.”
“All the more reason for us to be involved. We can provide strength in numbers.”
To Desire a Wicked Duke Page 16