“Will you go totally blind?”
He took a deep breath and inhaled the orange blossom scent on her skin from the soap of her bath. How he wanted to pick her up and throw her on the bed behind him and lose himself in her beauty and stop this conversation. “I cannot, as you say, see very well from the sides, but I have been like that for many years. I’m now beginning to find it difficult to see in dim light, as you ascertained in the gallery at Burlington House.”
He could not tell her that it had been his fault they had been captured. He was supposed to be on lookout but had not seen the pirates creep up on them. He managed to escape but Alex did not. It was the first time, at only one and twenty, he realized there was something wrong with his vision and it had cost Alex dearly. Two years of captivity and depravation. He could never repay Alex for those lost years and indignities. Now his friend wanted to make him his child’s guardian.
How could he honorably do so?
His arms reluctantly let her go as she stepped away from him. “Why have you not told your family?”
“You know why. For the same reason you did not get Sandringham involved in your marriage. Partly pride, but I also wanted to protect them.” He hesitated. “And I wanted all my sisters safely married before it became common knowledge, in case it affected their chances of a fine match.”
“Are any of them having symptoms?”
“Not that they have said, but maybe they are hiding symptoms too. If my father went blind and I have it…I pray they don’t have the condition too.”
She smiled up at him and it warmed his soul. “Now you have someone to share your troubles with. I have no intention of telling anyone so your secret is safe with me, but may I say, I worked it out fairly quickly. Surely those you love and your friends will eventually too. You should tell them.”
“Not yet.” But he would have to tell Alex, confess his sins. He could not be Christopher’s guardian and Alex would need a reason why. How did one apologize for destroying years of a friend’s life?
Penelope merely nodded and retied her robe tighter around her waist as if suddenly remembering where they were. And how inappropriate this was. She was naked beneath the robe and his eyes lingered at her breasts, traveled down her body where the silk robe clung to her like a lover’s caress. Her small feet and dainty ankles showed and he stilled the rush of desire at the idea of feeling them crossed behind his back as he sank deep into her heated sheath.
She caught the sniff of arousal in the air as she watched him undress her with his eyes. She took a step back. “If there is nothing else then I think we should both get some sleep. It’s a long journey tomorrow before we reach Rayleigh.”
Before she could protest he reached out and snagged his arm around her waist, pulling her flush against his body. “I haven’t thanked you for agreeing to keep my secret.” She did not struggle in his arms but she did not sink into him either. He bent her over his arm and placed little kisses down her slender exposed neck, watching as her breathing grew shallower and faster. He nudged the silk of the robe aside little by little, all the while kissing the skin of the breasts he exposed. She did not protest or struggle.
He stopped his kisses as one turgid, dark pink nipple was uncovered and it was he who suddenly could not breathe. He stared for several moments before blowing gently on it. She shivered in his arms. He could no more stop his mouth from tasting than he could stop breathing.
As he wrapped his lips around the hot flesh and suckled deep, Penelope moaned in his arms. He was not selfish. He laved each nipple separately but with equal abandon. He picked her up off the floor and carried her to the bed, laying her down like the prize she was. The tie to her robe had already come undone, and the material had spread open, and he took the opportunity to drink in the vision of perfection. She had a waist that required no corset to give it shape; the fair curls shielding her womanhood beckoned his fingers; and her long, shapely legs made him think of riding—her thighs gripping his hips and riding him hard.
He reached out a finger and ran it from her breastbone to her pubic bone, coming to rest in her fair curls. He kept staring, the image before him one he would never in his life forget even when he went blind. Venus. She was his real-life Venus and his body longed to worship her. He cupped her womanhood, the heat from her intoxicating. His mouth watered at the idea of tasting her.
He made to kneel on the bed beside her but her hand on his chest stopped him.
“I think your thank-you has gone quite far enough tonight.”
He wanted to protest. To tell her that his mouth would bring her such pleasure she would scream his name over and over, but the look of distrust that shadowed her eyes reminded him of his promise. He would do as she said and respect her wishes, or else his ability to ever taste her, to ever hold her in his arms and make love to her, would be dashed.
He nodded, his voice choked with the desire roaring through him. “I rather think I received the better part of this thank-you,” he finely whispered as he drew her robe back together and covered the temptation before he cracked and forgot his promise to her. “I look forward to showing you at a later date what you missed out on this night.” He walked to the door and before he exited he reminded her, “Lock this door after me.” He smiled as he began to close the door. “And pleasant dreams.”
Chapter 7
Pleasant dreams? She’d barely slept a wink last night and the morning sunshine set the butterflies in her stomach into flight. All she did during the night was toss and turn, trying to lose the memory of the way Stephen’s broken eyes worshipped every inch of her. Her arousal had stirred at the reverent gaze he ran over her body. The way he looked at her with such awe and need was like soft caresses. Her body still tingled.
She tried to stop pity clouding her opinion of him, but for a man as masculine, proud, and action-oriented as Stephen, the idea of him becoming blind filled her with sorrow. There was no doubt he relished life and the world around him. For one brief moment guilt ate at her. If she’d known of his condition, would she still have selected him for her plan?
To her dismay the answer was most definitely no. Why was she so soft when men could be extremely ruthless at the flip of a card?
She looked out the window to see Stephen pacing by the carriage, waiting for her to descend. Just then Jane entered her bedchamber. The sight of Jane made her pity evaporate. They had no choice but to keep going. At least when all this was over, Stephen would never be able to accuse her of pitying him.
That was if he ever spoke to her again.
Why did that idea fill her with sorrow?
* * *
—
They had been traveling for around two hours, and the polite chatter had dried up within the first half hour. He seemed to be in a pensive mood. Finally, he turned from where he was staring out the window and addressed a question to her maid, Jane.
“Is your family from Essex?”
Jane flashed a nervous look at her. “Yes, my lord.”
“Jane came into my employ upon my marriage. Her family lives near the coast in Southend. Her father is a fisherman. I arrived here with no lady’s maid and as soon as I met Jane, well, let’s say we are well suited.”
“So you would be party to the staff gossip, and most of the townspeople would confide in you.” It wasn’t a question. “Do they believe Carmichael fell by accident?”
Jane’s eyes had widened and she kept glancing across at Penelope, who was sitting rigid and still next to him. Jane appeared to be around Penelope’s age. She was a plump woman with plain features but kind eyes. He watched the lady’s maid lick her lips, and her hands fidgeted with her dress.
“From those I have talked to, they all seem to think he fell while making his way home from the tavern. Drunk almost senseless, I heard.”
Jane could not look him in the eye. Was she simply shy or was she hidi
ng something from him? Or was it she did not wish to say certain things in front of Penelope as it may upset her.
“Did his lordship have any—anyone in the village that he spent more time with than would be considered normal?” He wanted to ask about smugglers but it might alarm the woman.
Once again eyes flicked to her mistress. “My brother did mention that he had regular meetings at the blacksmith’s. The men of the village thought it odd because the blacksmith was always in the tavern when these meetings occurred.”
He looked at Pen. “Did you know about this?”
“Yes, well.” She waved imperiously back at him. “All of this information was passed to the magistrate.”
“It’s not in any of the reports I’ve read.”
“Then thank goodness you are reinvestigating. You’ll be able to create your own report with plenty of witnesses.”
Something did not smell right. Why would such an important detail not be in the magistrate’s report? He would have to talk to Jonathan about the magistrate. Could the man be corrupt? Had Rotham gotten to him? Penelope should be scared.
“You seem very unconcerned about such an important missing detail,” he said to Penelope.
She gave him a rather haughty stare. “I have you to worry for me. I cannot do anything more than I have already done, which was to seek your help.”
That made sense. A woman, a lady, would need a man, and a man she could trust, to interrogate the men in the tavern and other men. It was not proper for her to do so, and then of course, who would believe her since she was the accused.
Glancing at Pen’s face, he found her frowning at him. “I repeat. I can do no more than I have already done.”
“For a woman who could be accused of murder, you are remarkably calm.”
“I am innocent and you shall prove that. Besides, I have my brother, Sandringham, too. The duke would not allow a man like Rotham to bring charges against me based on nothing but evidence that is suspect in nature.”
She paused. Stephen wondered if she knew her eyes had turned not just cold but also a shade that fully justified the description “eyes like ice.” “Rotham won’t defeat me.” It was obvious how much she hated Carmichael and his brother.
He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs and fixing his gaze on Jane. “You have the ear of the servants. What are they saying?”
That desperate look at Penelope again, before she licked her lips and said in a strangled voice, “Most say good riddance and don’t seem to care how he fell.”
He nodded. That was an honest answer. “That is probably what is giving Rotham his opening. No one seems to care that Carmichael is dead. With a lackluster investigation it’s allowed him to raise his concerns.”
Penelope shrugged. “Rotham only cared once the will had been read and he got nothing.” She paused, her gaze shifting to peer out the window. “As long as you prove I was not involved I really don’t care how he died.”
Carmichael must have been a complete bastard because her tone had changed to one of icy control, reined menace lending every word a cutting edge. She’d hated her husband.
He decided to change the subject, leaving her story regarding her marriage until they were in private. To Penelope he asked, “Do you know Lord Helmstone well? You seemed surprised that he’d married.”
His gaze locked on her face, he shut his lips and waited. Why did it prickle so that she might know Jonathan rather well? Helmstone was her closest neighbor, an honorable man of her social standing. And now he was married to Stephen’s sister so why was he speared with knives of jealousy?
“I know Jonathan quite well. When you announced he’d married, I was upset that I missed his wedding, but I must admit I have not been paying as much attention to correspondence of a social nature as I should. I saw an invitation from him a few weeks ago now, but sadly I ignored it in my hurry to research a white knight and to come up to London and instigate my plan to obtain your services.”
His gaze grew intent, sharper, and more incisive. “You are on first-name terms, so he is a good friend?”
Was that a note of censure she could hear? She looked at his unblinking gaze as he held himself stiffly next to her. Was he…No, it could not be—jealous—no. Maybe he was worried for his sister. “Jonathan shared my lack of respect for Carmichael, and I think he felt sorry for me. I’m not sure if that was the reason why he had no trouble conversing with me. He rarely stuttered and hence, he enjoyed visiting.” Stephen’s black brows drew down. He regarded her with disbelief. She chose to ignore the black grumpy bear that he’d become in the space of a few minutes. “After Carmichael’s death I had no one closer to my estate than Jonathan and being an earl…Jonathan dealt with the funeral and magistrate, if you must know.”
His eyebrows rose. “That is the best news I’ve heard since I agreed to help you. Why did you not tell me this sooner?”
“I had no idea you knew him. Actually, I was going to tell you tonight. I had no idea we would be imposing ourselves on Helmstone. Since we have a few hours to go, why don’t you tell me how he met your sister?”
She settled in and listened to the tale of how Dorothea ended up married to a fine man. The more Stephen talked, the greater her envy and self-pity grew until she was almost sick with it. Did Dorothea know how lucky she was?
She had wanted all that Dorothea now had. Now Penelope was too scared, or too frightened of her own choices, to risk marriage again.
* * *
—
They arrived in Rayleigh late afternoon. She managed to find a gift for the newlyweds before dropping Jane at her sister’s house then setting off for Helmstone Manor. Her body was very aware that she was now alone in the carriage with Stephen. To give herself some space she’d moved onto the opposite squab, putting some distance between them. The man was definitely not one who could be ignored, though. His steady regard was more than unnerving, and to her dismay it was stimulating. His long, strong legs stretched across and rubbed against her skirts with every bump. She had a suspicion he did it on purpose.
She’d wager any woman left alone with Stephen and his warm chocolate eyes would be stirred. Annoyance soon shoved aside the little butterflies rioting in her stomach. He was staring at her on purpose and it was working.
She sighed and stared back. “Do I have dirt on my face?”
“No.”
“Then are you staring at me for a particular reason or simply to annoy me?”
“If you must know, I’m trying to understand why you stayed with Carmichael. Your brother would have stood by you and helped you obtain a divorce.”
Her heart clenched. Her brother had begged her to divorce Carmichael but she’d refused. She’d often cursed her steely resolve, the one quality, or fault, if you believed her brother, she was happy to own. Carmichael brought out the best qualities in her. Stubbornness, persistence, confidence, and she learned to be just as manipulative as her husband. The things she lost when she married Carmichael were pride, loyalty, hope, and trust. Things that made her weak. To Carmichael’s surprise, and to an extent her own, she was not weak.
She was strong. And she intended to stay that way.
Since she had not answered him, Stephen asked, “What made you stay with him?”
The morning she’d eloped to Gretna Green with Carmichael her heart had been full of new possibilities and dreams and worse still, love. She’d been fully aware of the scandalous risk she was about to take but as soon as he slipped his hand in hers and smiled, her heart bloomed and she saw what a wonderful life they would have together.
The first uncertainty of her actions arose after their disastrous wedding night when all Carmichael could talk about was how he would get his hands on her dowry. She was still sore from his lackluster bedding, and all he wanted to do was return directly to the Sandringham estate in York to get
“what was owed him.” They had taken several days’ hard ride to get to Scotland, and he thought nothing about simply turning around and returning when she was exhausted in both heart and mind. Suspicions that she’d made a dreadful mistake swam in her blood.
From then on he barely spoke to her, and to her relief he did not seek out her bed. She thought it was because he was busy dealing with the consequences from their elopement. But the real panic didn’t set in until they had taken up residency in Hadleigh Park.
Carmichael was a virtual stranger, not the man who had wooed her. He barely spoke to her and if he did it was to deride her. She could not do anything right. The first time she’d caught him with one of the serving girls, any hope that he had married her for love died in her breast.
“He had Hadleigh Park. He’d taken the one thing my mother’s family had given to me and I was not about to let the Rotham family take it from me forever. It was my mistake to fix.” She paused before admitting, “Besides, if I left…someone had to protect the servants and tenants. Carmichael was not a man who liked to be denied whatever perversity he desired.”
“You are quite a remarkable woman,” he said softly.
“No.” She shook her head hard. “I was a foolish young girl who had no understanding of the cruel world around her. Now I am more prepared.”
“You must have been relieved when they told you Carmichael was dead.”
Stephen was the first person to speak what everyone else thought. “I was overjoyed, if you must know. And if I’m truthful, it was not unexpected. He was a drunk and he made enemies. So if he didn’t drunkenly fall off the cliff, there will be plenty of people who would have gladly pushed him.”
Drawn to the Marquess Page 8