Griffin spoke; Lizzy gave no response. Casually he rose from the bench, deposited the absurdly large hat on his head, and picked up a stone from the ground. He tossed it. He picked up another, no longer talking to Lizzy, and threw it. On the third stone, Lizzy glanced up. Her face was still sullen, but she watched Griffin. She said a few words and thrust her lip in the pout again.
Casually he spoke over his shoulder. Then he picked up several small rocks and began to take aim at something and throw them.
Julia leaned closer to the window, wondering what he was up to.
Lizzy rose from the bench and kicked at loose stones on the path.
Griffin tossed her one of the stones from his hand. She didn't put out her hand and it fell at her feet.
"She's not going to play," Julia said softly. "Whatever you're trying, dear heart, it won't work. She can be as stubborn as molasses on a cold night when she wants to be."
As Julia fogged the glass with her last words, to her surprise, Lizzy leaned down and picked up a rock.
Julia smiled. Bless him.
Lizzy rolled the pebble between her finger, spoke, then tossed it with little effort. It flew from Julia's sight, but she knew from the look on Lizzy's face that it missed its mark.
Lizzy threw another. And another. On the fourth rock she must have hit the target, because she leaped up and clapped her hands together.
Griffin clapped with her, grinning broadly beneath the hat. He said something encouraging, then scooped a whole handful from the ground, and poured them into Lizzy's hands.
Lizzy was smiling for the first time in days, and Julia was smiling with her. "I love you, Baron Archer," she whispered, touching the cold glass of the lead casement window. "I vow I do."
Griffin said something else to Lizzy, and she pointed toward the windows of the gallery. Griffin immediately looked up.
It was strange to watch him from this far away and have him gaze at her. Even at a distance she felt a warmth radiate from him, a warmth that leapt through her and made her heart flutter.
Griffin tipped his hat to Lizzy and left her to her rocks and target.
Julia knew she should go now before Griffin appeared. If she didn't wait for him, chances were he would seek her out. It would be better that way. Safer. But she wanted to see him, needed to see him, if only for a moment.
Julia waited at the windows and was shortly rewarded by the sound of a man's high-heeled slippers on the newly laid black and white Italian marble floor.
She knew she and Griffin had agreed to avoid each other, but what harm could it do to talk here in the gallery, she rationalized. There were a dozen workmen as witnesses, who would see them, yet not be able to hear their conversation for the noise of their own tools.
"My Lady St. Martin." Griffin swept off his hat and bowed grandly.
Julia curtsied. "Your servant, my lord." A smile twitched on her lips. "Nice hat."
"Your servant." He chuckled and brushed the brim or his hat with a kidskin-gloved hand. "Glad you like it."
"What's she doing down there?" Julia pointed to the window. "She's been in a pout for days. That's the first smile anyone's been able to coax out of her."
"A little target practice." He watched her carefully out of the corner of his eye as he pretended to be concentrating on removing his expensive gloves.
She knew he was thinking what she was thinking. One kiss. Just one. Perhaps one caress.
"Target practice. I see." Julia struggled to concentrate on the conversation. He was so damned handsome. Had he been this handsome the day she'd arrived at Bassett Hall?
"So what did you do to make her so angry?" He flexed his fingers and she watched them move with fascination.
"W . . . why do you ask?"
"She decided the tree we were aiming for was you. Wouldn't say why." There was a hint of amusement in his voice.
Julia lifted her hands to her face and laughed. "Me?"
He laughed with her, though not as hardily. "Yes, you. It was her idea, not mine. The target part."
Julia dabbed at her eyes. "The silly girl." She chuckled again, knowing it wasn't really funny, but feeling giddy inside. Giddy with want of him. "I've done something terrible, at least in Lizzy's eyes." She hesitated to tell him, but what harm could it do? No one could hear them. To anyone that passed they would appear to be making polite conversation.
Griffin waited patiently for her to continue. He was so good at listening, when most men were so poor.
"There was a man . . . a servant here in the house." Julia fiddled with the lace that fell over her sleeve, not because it needed to be straightened, but because she needed to have something to do with her hands. Even as she spoke of Lizzy, she thought of Griffin . . . of his hands . . . his hands on her . . . his mouth on her. "Lizzy thought herself infatuated with him. I caught them kissing."
"You put a stop to it?"
"Of course I did." Julia's gaze darted to the workmen. They were placing molding above the far windows. "It was completely inappropriate. Lizzy's not able to—" Her gaze met Griffin's again. He seemed to know she wasn't telling the entire story. "Simeon would not have it," she finished softly.
He glanced at the workers with a sigh. He was such a good actor. To anyone watching them, one might have thought that the Baron Archer was bored with the conversation, bored with the countess. He was anything but.
"Then it's a good thing you stopped it now before he found out."
She nodded, her hand aching to caress his smooth-shaven cheek.
"And it really has halted?"
"Yes. I told the servant he would be replaced if it continued. I told Lizzy she'd be confined to our apartments if I caught her even speaking to him."
"And she'll do as you say?"
"Of course she will." Julia turned away to look out the window again. Lizzy was still below, throwing rocks now with childlike enthusiasm. "She knows I only want what's best for her. She knows I know what's best."
Griffin took a step closer to her. She didn't dare look at him.
"I miss you," he said, his voice barely audible above the sound of the hammering and sawing. He moved his hand as if he were going to touch her, then recoiled.
"I miss you," she whispered.
"My bed feels empty. Not even Charlie can keep me warm."
"Charlie?" She knitted her brows. "So there's truth to the rumors of Baron Archer's bedchamber preferences?"
A flicker of amusement crossed his face. "My cat. Surely you met him that night?"
That night. "Big and black and furry? Didn't want to share the bedcovers?"
"His name is Charles Stuart, but I call him Charlie." Griffin moved to stand beside her at the window. To her surprise his hand found hers in the folds of her woolen gown. He squeezed it tightly.
"You named a cat after the king of England?" She was smiling, as much for the sake of the cat story as for the warmth of his fingers that threaded through hers.
"Charles has met him. He's not the least bit offended."
Julia frowned as an alarm went off in her head. "The King of England has met your cat? You jest."
He waved his other hand. "Forget I said that."
Now there was something he wasn't telling her. Surely the king of England had never entered Griffin's bedchamber, here or anywhere else. Surely . . .
She studied his face for a moment, then peered out the window again. She didn't want any of the workmen to notice anything odd between the countess and Baron Archer. Her mind ticked. Charles II had fled England at the age of sixteen, before his father was beheaded. It was a fact that many young men accompanied the exiled prince. Surely Griffin couldn't have been one of those honored men. Could he? "You told me that you traveled through Europe for most of the war. May I ask where? When?"
"You cannot. I told you. Forget about what I said about Ch—His Majesty. Don't pry, Julia."
She took a deep breath. He had warned her that he had secrets. He had warned her that she would have to trust him.
"How . . . how is your . . . matter going?"
"Could be worse. Could be better," he answered cryptically.
He had promised he would get her out of Bassett Hall, out of St. Martin's clutches. It was that hope she clung to now. "Do you know how much longer you'll be . . . engaged?" He stroked her fingers with his thumb, making it difficult for her to think clearly. "Do you see any finality?"
"Too soon to say, but there's been a great deal of activity."
The constant motion of his thumb on her hand in the folds of her petticoats was amazingly sensual. Julia's heartbeat increased; her breath shortened.
"I want you," he whispered, daring to bring his mouth close to her ear.
His warm breath in her ear made her tremble. "Aye," was all she could manage.
"Care to take a stroll?"
Julia turned to him in surprise. "Sir?"
"To see what shipment of artwork his lordship has received." He pointed beyond the workmen to the heavy curtain of canvas that protected St. Martin's precious artwork from being damaged by sawdust and mortar's sand. "I understand he's recently received a masterpiece from Rome."
Julia's breath caught in her throat at his suggestion. He wanted to take her beyond the curtain to kiss her? How did he dare? Hadn't they said only a week ago that they couldn't risk discovery?
Did she dare?
"Oh, yes, that shipment." She smiled graciously and started toward the workmen, releasing his warm hand as she removed the protection of her petticoats. "Do let me show you the statue of the woman. It's exquisite."
Griffin followed Julia past the long row of windows that ran the length of the fifty-foot gallery. They passed carpenters and masons who barely glanced up. To Julia's surprise, Griffin winked at one handsome blond fellow. She nearly burst into laughter.
At the end of the room, Griffin raised his hand over her shoulder to pull back the canvas curtain for her. Julia walked in, her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing aloud. Griffin followed.
The moment she heard the drape fall, she felt Griffin's hand on her waist. She suppressed a cry of surprise as he spun her around to face him.
"How could you?" She threw her arms around his neck and met him nose to nose.
"Could I what?" His blue eyes glimmered with a mixture of amusement and something darker. Passion.
Giggling softly, her lips met his. "Flirt with that poor mason."
"One has to keep one's reputation." He kissed her again, but this time their mouths lingered.
Their tongues touched and Julia stifled a groan of pleasure. This wasn't a good idea, hiding behind the curtain. Suddenly she didn't trust her own judgment. Her heart was racing, every nerve in her body quivering. She wanted him so badly. Already she could feel herself damp and pulsing.
"We can't do this," she insisted, as she allowed him to back her against the nearest solid wall. She delved her tongue into his mouth, knowing she was losing her sense of good judgment in her desire for this man.
"We can't," he panted, lifting her skirt to press his hand between her thighs. "Can't risk it. Can't be so selfish."
"Griffin . . . Griffin," she groaned as he slid his hand up her bare thigh above her stocking, then higher until he met with the source of her pleasure.
His fingertips brushed, taunted, teased, then retreated. He kissed her breathless. Dizzy. Again he found the center of her pulsing need.
Holding tightly to his shoulders, Julia rocked against his hand, already so close to that explosion of pleasure she craved. She couldn't believe she was doing this.
"If we are caught, we're dead. Both dead."
"Shhhh," he soothed. "Won't get caught."
With another moan that Griffin muffled with his mouth, Julia parted her thighs. Her legs were so weak she wasn't certain she could continue to stand. A heat rose in her face. Suddenly the cold stone had become fiery.
Julia slid her hand down his chest to the bulge beneath his thighs. Griffin groaned in her ear and trailed a jagged line of kisses down her neck to the swell of her breast that rose above her burgundy gown.
Julia tried to pull the tie of his breeches free, but it wouldn't come undone. Desperately she yanked.
He covered her hand with his experienced one, brushed it aside, and released the flap of fabric. His sex fell hard and hot in her palm.
"Julia," Griffin groaned as she stroked his length.
"Griffin, Griffin," she panted. "Have . . . have to hurry."
He wrapped his arms around her and spun her around so that his own back was to the wall. "Here?" he whispered. "You're certain?"
She fumbled with the oceans of fabric of her petticoats and hitched them high. This was insanity. She knew it was insanity. "Here. Now," she whispered hoarsely. "Now."
Griffin grasped her roughly by her waist, lifted her up, and then lowered her. She groaned as he filled her body, and set her muscles to quivering and her flesh to burning. One stroke, and she dissolved against him. She had wanted him so badly—needed him badly.
Panting against Griffin's purple velvet lapel, guided by his hands around her waist, she pushed up on her tiptoes and then slid down hard upon him.
Griffin gasped, his muscles tensed, and he buried his face in the loose hair that spilled over her shoulders.
"Forever," he whispered as he exploded.
The moment his eyes fluttered open, Julia gingerly removed herself from the position in his arms and shoved her petticoats down. She was still dizzy, her heart pounding. Sweat beaded above her upper lip.
With a lopsided grin on his face, Griffin tucked himself into his breeches and laced himself up.
She tossed him the hat that he had dropped on the floor at some point. He deposited it on his head. Their gazes met.
"Forever," she whispered with a saucy smile.
He reached out and brushed the beads of sweat from her lip and lifted the canvas curtain that separated them from the workmen, who still pounded with their hammers and rocked their saws.
"Quite exquisite," Griffin exclaimed. "Thank you so much for sharing his lordship's treasure. I do hope you'll honor me thusly again, my lady."
She shot him a look that could have seared a lesser man. "Quite welcome, sir, and now if you'll excuse me, I've other matters to attend."
He tipped his hat and bowed.
Julia nodded, still weak-kneed beneath her petticoats.
"There you are!"
Her breath caught in her throat. Her gaze was so intent upon Griffin that she hadn't seen Simeon coming.
"I . . . I was showing Griffin the shipment from Rome."
"Quite exquisite," Griffin picked up the conversation. "I should love to discuss the sculpture over a snifter of brandy, my lord."
Simeon scowled at Griffin. As he spoke he tugged a handkerchief from his coat sleeve and brought it to his nose. "Go on with you, Griffin. Perhaps later." His hard gaze fell upon Julia.
She prayed he didn't discover she was shaking in her slippers.
"There's someone in the front hall to discuss a Christmastide donation to the poor. I'd prefer you see to it. Give, but not too generously. I can't be bothered."
"Yes, my lord." She lowered her gaze in silent admission of servitude, all the while thinking of how she had gotten the better of him again. Julia knew she was wicked for her thoughts, but she couldn't help herself. Her wicked thoughts gave her strength—the strength to go on. "Anything else, my lord?"
Simeon glanced up to see whether Griffin had walked out of earshot. "Yes, do something about your stench, woman." He sniffed into the air and blotted his nose with his handkerchief. "You smell of something." He sniffed again. "I don't know what it is, but it's rancid!" With that he trounced off.
Julia kept her back to Simeon and Griffin as they retreated down the long gallery. A secret smile of satisfaction turned on her lips as she breathed deeply the scent of Griffin's love that still clung to her damp skin.
Chapter Twenty
Julia held back a velvet drape with one hand and s
tared into the darkness, avoiding her own reflection. It was one of those rare evenings when Simeon had invited no guests. Lizzy had taken her meal in her room with Drusilla, and Susanne was gallivanting about Londontown with her Frenchman. She and Simeon had dined alone with Griffin.
Supper had been strained for Julia, even though Griffin put on his jolliest face and kept Simeon entertained with court gossip of the king's mistress, Castlemaine. Julia attempted to appear interested, but each time her gaze inadvertently met Griffin's she looked away, terrified Simeon would suspect something. There had been no afternoon trysts since earlier in the week, but it was all Julia thought of, and she feared that she would somehow betray her infidelity.
"I leave for His Majesty's Hunting Lodge next week," Griffin said, making conversation. "The hunting should be good, as the winter has yet been mild."
Julia struggled not to react to the turn in the conversation. She couldn't imagine what Griffin was thinking, to mention the lodge. Hadn't they agreed that it would be too dangerous for her to go?
Simeon turned the page of a book he was reading. "I do hope you're still willing to take my wife with you. She's in need of a change of scenery, I think. She has been quite skittish since the wedding."
"Oh, no, my lord. I don't think I can go." She clasped the velvet drapes for support. Of course she couldn't go somewhere alone with Griffin. An impossibility. A wondrous impossibility. "There's much to do for the advent season."
"Nonsense. If Archer is willing to take you, you'll go because I wish you to go. And you'll make a good impression on His Majesty; it's my understanding he likes pert women."
Julia caught Griffin's reflection in the window glass. She wanted to go with him. Wanted desperately to go. But she was afraid. Terrified. Was it not worse to give a man dying of thirst a few sips of water, than to just let him die?
Griffin nodded ever so slightly, knowing she watched him. He was telling her everything would be all right.
Julia found her voice. "If you wish it so, my lord, I'll go."
In Love with the King's Spy (Hidden Identity) Page 20