by Mary Campisi
He laid gentle fingers against her cheek, drinking in the soft, silky essence of her skin. He trailed a path from her cheek to her mouth, stopping to trace an outline over each full lip. God, but he wanted to kiss her and taste what she had once offered so freely.
Her lips moved, and he jerked his hand back. Was she waking? Her eyes remained closed, covered by a thick fringe of lash. He let out a silent breath as beads of perspiration peppered his forehead and he strained to detect the slightest change in breathing pattern or eye movement. Part of him wanted her to wake and find him standing over her; the other part grew petrified she’d do just that.
He placed a shaky hand on her belly. His child. A fierce wave of possessiveness washed over him for mother and child. But another feeling crept along his spine and wrapped its long tentacles around his heart. The emotion was foreign to him, for he’d experienced it not more than once or twice and that being long ago. Noah recognized it for what it was as it made his heart beat faster and jerked the breath from his throat.
It was fear in its most primitive form. Fear that the woman he loved would deny him a second chance. Would she deny him the baby too? Noah backed away, one step at a time, so caught up in the maelstrom of emotion he didn’t remember making a conscious effort to move. Another step backward and his booted foot hit the door with a dull thud. He couldn’t face her tonight. He was too afraid.
He must come to terms with that demon before he went to Emily. Noah slipped through the open door, closing it behind him and headed for the secret passage. Not until he was ready to enter the black opening did he remember he’d forgotten his lantern. Cursing under his breath, he stepped into the darkness and pulled the door shut. His fingers sought the cold, hard surface of the wall as he inched along the passageway. It was going to be a blasted long night.
****
Emily awakened early the next morning feeling quite refreshed. Her stomach didn’t rumble or lurch in warning. Of course, she’d eaten nothing more than clear beef broth and a few wafers, but it was a start.
She recalled the terrible time Augusta had when she was pregnant. She’d almost had to carry the chamber pot with her for the first several weeks of her pregnancy. Everything upset her, from a drop of chicken broth on her tongue to a whiff of roast pork. Ian had remained by her side, worrying over her, ministering to her, loving her.
There would be no one to help Emily as she swelled with child. She thought of Cyrus and her heart warmed. Dear, sweet, dependable Cyrus had wiped her brow and carried her back to bed when she was too exhausted to move. He was the one who’d taken care of her.
But he wasn’t Noah.
She’d dreamed of him last night, just like she did every night, except this time it seemed so real. He stood over her bed, watching her with those deep brown eyes, his full lips unsmiling. There was tenderness in his expression as he lifted a hand and trailed his fingers over her face and neck. She’d wanted to touch the slight crook in his nose, trace the small scar over his right eye, brush her fingers along his lips, but her hands wouldn’t move.
Calming herself with a deep breath, Emily detected a faint hint of spice. Her eyes snapped open. She inhaled again. The spicy scent filled her nostrils. Only one person wore that type of cologne. Emily shook her head, trying to rid herself of morning cobwebs. Last night had been only a dream, just like all the others.
She threw back the covers, anxious to get dressed and out of her chambers before her imagination got the best of her. Next, she’d swear she’d spotted him beside her bed. Oh, but the man could wreak havoc on her emotions, even in sleep. As her bare feet touched the floor, she spotted a black and silver lantern resting on the edge of the bedside stand.
Had Noah been in her room? Had the touches been real? The questions bounced to and fro in Emily’s head. What to do? Perhaps there was a logical explanation for the lantern. What would that be? Who would be so bold as to wander into her room in the middle of the night? Her heart answered—Noah.
She could not tell Cyrus. He was after Noah and someone might get hurt. For all of Cyrus’s supposed training as a tactical expert or whatever it was he’d said, he would probably be the injured party. He lacked the ruthless tenacity she’d seen in her husband. On the other hand, Noah’s guard might be down, and he could fall prey to Cyrus’s patience. She wouldn’t risk hurting either one which meant she’d have to deal with the potential situation herself.
She gripped the lantern and imagined Noah’s hands on the handle only hours ago. If it had been him invading her chambers last night, she wanted no outside intrusion when he came again. As she clutched the lantern close, she knew he’d come to her last night and knew he’d come again. This time she would be ready. She opened the closet door, pushed aside several gowns and placed the lantern on the floor behind a lavender and peach muslin. His secret was safe. For now.
Chapter 16
Cyrus avoided Emily the entire day. There were too many issues to address and seeing her would only take his mind off pressing matters. Such as, the realization that he was a coward. Never in his entire life had he behaved like one. Couldn’t even fathom the possibility until last night. Fear of losing Emily had driven him away as though he were chased by demons and he’d spent the rest of the night nursing his self disgust along with a bottle of whiskey.
He was in a foul mood today, blacker than the soot on a chimney sweep’s cheeks. Lack of sleep and enough whiskey could do that to a man. So could a woman. Cyrus swore under his breath as reminders of last evening’s cowardice pounded in his head. Tonight would be different. He would not act the coward again. When the house fell quiet, he would go to Emily and ask her forgiveness. As her husband. Her lover. Her friend.
And she would accept it. Period. He hoped. Then he would lay his head on her soft, full breasts and let sleep take him. The thought of her breasts stirred his cock. Perhaps he wouldn’t sleep right away. Provided Emily was amenable to the idea. He cursed again. Why shouldn’t she be? They were husband and wife. She’d admitted she loved him. They’d been apart a very long time. She carried his child, for God’s sake. Why wouldn’t she be agreeable? Why, he ripped a piece of paper in half, wouldn’t, he slashed at another with his letter opener, she be agreeable?
A knock on the door saved a third piece of ivory stationery from mutilation.
“Yes?”
“It’s Billington, sir. You wished to see me?”
“Come in.” Cyrus guessed it was time to apprise Billington of his plan, considering the plan was already in motion. He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. His fingers stuck in the tangled mess. God, he’d be blasted happy when this was all over. It wasn’t bad enough that the sight of Emily made his objectivity sail out the window; he had to deal with a matted mop on his head every day!
“Have a seat, Billington.” He lowered his voice. “As I mentioned before, Lady Emily has a very bad habit of eavesdropping, and I don’t wish to holler at you from across the room.”
The butler’s lips twitched. Almost a smile. “So you have said, sir but I believe we are safe for the moment. Lady Emily is napping in the study.”
“She is? Why?” Odd she didn’t walk the short distance to the privacy and comfort of her own quarters.
Billington’s mouth curved upward. Cyrus spotted a show of teeth. It was a definite smile. “Billington, is something wrong?” In all the years he’d known the man, never once had he seen him smile.
“No, sir,” he replied, fighting to pull his lips into their customary straight line. “I believe Lady Emily is sleeping in the study because of the pillows.”
“Pillows?” The man made no sense. Billington always made sense. It had to do with that damnable smile.
Clearing his throat, Billington flattened his lips and said in his most serious voice, “She’s sleeping on them, sir.”
“Sleeping on the pillows?” Cyrus repeated. Emily’s chambers were equipped with two of the softest, goose-filled pillows at Glenview Manor. He’d made certain of
it. “Why is she sleeping on the pillows, Billington?”
The older man lifted a bony shoulder. “It would appear Lady Emily is enamored with them. They’re the rather large ones you brought from one of your excursions to the Orient. For the past two days, she’s brought books in there after lunch.” He leaned over and whispered, “She’s fallen asleep both times. I made certain she was covered with a blanket so she wouldn’t catch a chill.”
“Very thoughtful of you, Billington. Thank you.” Emily had gotten to the old man and melted some of that icy exterior. Poor Billington didn’t stand a chance now. Next he’d be throwing down his jacket in puddles so she wouldn’t get her feet wet.
“You wished to see me, sir?”
“Ah, yes, there is something I need to discuss with you. I embarked on a little plan yesterday that involves our neighbor, Mr. Kleeton.”
Billington raised a thin brow.
“I informed him I spotted Noah Sandleton yesterday, running away from the estate.”
“And did he believe you?”
Cyrus nodded. “He had no reason not to. The man may not care for me, but he wants Noah Sandleton, and it has nothing to do with his misplaced loyalty for Emily.”
“Are your suspicions concerning Mr. Kleeton proving correct?”
What he meant to ask was whether Cyrus felt Andrew Kleeton was the elusive Serpent. “I don’t know. There’s something about the man that reeks of deceit. It’s in his eyes, behind all that blue. It’s as if he’s constantly assessing those around him, I can even detect it in his smile. If you look past the flash of white, you’ll see nothing but emptiness, like falling into a deep pit.”
“What of his hands?” Billington asked.
Cyrus shook his head. “He keeps them well covered in every color and texture imaginable.” He clenched his fists, his next words sharp and fierce. “You can’t know how tempted I’ve been to pin him down and rip them off. But since I can’t do that, I’ve decided to include him in a little search for Noah Sandleton.”
“How so?”
A smile crept onto Cyrus’s lips. “Kleeton will patrol his property and the surrounding estates in search of Noah.”
“And never find him,” Billington added, nodding in approval.
“He’ll find him all right, but not yet, not until I’ve had an opportunity to learn some of his secrets and test his skill. When I’ve done that, Noah will let himself ‘be found’ and if Kleeton is The Serpent, he’ll waste no time striking.”
A deep line furrowed Billington’s shiny forehead.
“What is it?” He’d known the man too many years to not detect when something bothered him.
The older man sniffed twice, cleared his throat and ventured, “It sounds dangerous.”
“What did you say?” He couldn’t have heard him right.
“I said, sir,” Billington began, squaring his shoulders and sitting even straighter than before, “that the plan sounds dangerous.”
“Dangerous?” Cyrus stifled a laugh. “This little event is nothing compared to what we’ve been through.” He laughed again. “Surely you realize that.”
Billington’s gray eyes met Cyrus’s. “Lady Emily was not involved then.”
“What’s she got to do with any of this?” The man was going soft on him. He liked him better hard and crusty.
“If Kleeton is The Serpent, he’ll go after what Noah Sandleton cares about most.” His precise voice faltered. “And that would be Lady Emily.”
Silence dragged Cyrus down under the threat of Billington’s last words. Like sacks of sand, the words hung on his shoulders. He clenched and unclenched his fists and finally, grabbed the letter opener to still his hands. “If he touches her, I’ll kill him with my bare hands.” No one would hurt Emily. He would see to that.
****
Noah slipped through the opening of Emily’s door, his eyes never leaving her face. She looked like an angel in sleep, her golden hair flowing about her, soft and shimmering. His heart banged against his chest as he moved closer. There was no turning back tonight. He would ask her forgiveness, pledge his love, and pray to God she took mercy on him. Lilac drifted to him, urging him closer. He leaned over, closed his eyes, and reveled in the sweet fragrance that beckoned him. Closer, closer, until wisps of silken tendrils graced his cheek.
He planted gentle kisses in her hair. It had been so long since he’d touched her, so long since he’d kissed her. His cock throbbed at the thought of her lips. He opened his eyes and stared at her mouth, so inviting, like sun-kissed berries waiting to be plucked. He lowered his head, his mouth hovering mere inches from hers. His eyes drifted shut. He was about to taste a slice of Heaven.
Instead, a blow from hell landed square at the back of his neck. He jumped back, cursing as he rubbed the tender spot on his neck. “Damn you, Emily,” he muttered, glaring at her.
“Stay right where you are,” she said, backing up to the farthermost corner of the bed.
“Up to your old tricks again? What is it this time? Another pitcher?” Whatever she’d used, her aim was perfect. His neck hurt like the devil.
She shook her head and golden curls whirled about her breasts. Did she know he could make out her entire shape beneath that pristine nightgown she wore? The lamp shone just right and from her position on the bed, her charms left little to the imagination.
When she didn’t respond, he asked again, “What did you attack me with, Emily?”
Her chest heaved and he spotted the hint of a nipple through the white material.
She swallowed twice. “One of those vases with the dragon on it,” she whispered.
He raised a brow. “One of my vases?”
“It’s fine. No harm done,” she said, pulling a white and gold vase from beneath the covers.
“That’s a matter of opinion,” he said, massaging the muscles in his neck.
“Leave, Noah. I have nothing to say to you.”
“Like hell.” He fought to keep his anger in check; he’d come to ask her forgiveness, not engage in battle.
“Don’t you dare come one step closer,” Emily said, as she jumped from the bed and grabbed an old fire iron from the fireplace. She crawled back onto the bed and stood up, gripping the bottom of the iron with both hands, readying her swing.
If he weren’t so damned annoyed and sore, the sight of Emily wielding a fire iron would have made him laugh.
“Leave, before you force me to use this thing,” she said, swatting the iron through the air.
“For what, dear wife?” He cocked a brow. “Jousting?”
“For keeping you away,” she said, her voice two octaves lower than normal.
“Ah,” he replied. “I am indeed filled with fear.”
“Not one step farther,” she whispered, crouching like a hunter preparing for attack.
Noah met her gaze and took a step closer.
“I’m warning you,” she hissed. “I’ll use this thing.”
He dropped his hands to his sides and advanced two steps. “You would maul me with it?” He glanced at the fire iron in her hands. “Scar me and beat at my head and body?” Her grip loosened and the iron slipped a fraction. “You would wish that for me, dear wife? You would be my attacker?” He took another step.
“No,” Emily whispered. “I…don’t want you…to be hurt.”
He forgot about the dull ache in his neck and almost smiled. He and Emily were making progress, even if she didn’t realize it.
“Nor do I want you to be hurt. Especially by me,” he finished, his gaze locking with hers. He had to keep his head about him, especially now, with Emily on the brink of catapulting into his waiting arms.
She swiped at her left eye, still keeping a grip on the iron with her right, but it was looser than before. “It’s too late for that,” she said, the sadness in her voice tearing at his gut.
So much for catapulting into his waiting arms. Noah squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. He had to keep her talking. He s
aid the next thing that popped into his head. “Why do you keep whispering?”
Her gaze shot to the door. “Cyrus might hear.”
“Cyrus?” What in blazes did Cyrus have to do with anything?
Emily wet her lips, hesitated a moment and plunged forward. “He’s the man who’s been hired to protect me.” Her small chin shot up an inch. “From you.”
“From me?” How to handle that remark? Humor and sarcasm. “Is he the hairy ape that’s been following you around like a lost puppy?”
“He is not a hairy ape. For your information, Cyrus Mandrey is my friend and protector, which is certainly more than you ever were.”
Noah winced. “You don’t need that fire iron when you’ve got a mouth like that for a weapon.”
He could tell by the spark in her eyes that she was far from finished. She’d assumed her feet apart, chin up, hands on hips stance that told him she had much to say, and he would be the lucky recipient of her diatribe.
“Cyrus is a man of integrity, whose opinion I value. I trust him and his judgment.” She raised her voice just a hint with her next words. “He would never lie to me.”
Noah raked a hand through his hair. Who would have thought he’d be competing with himself? “Then why don’t you call your hero to come to your rescue? Surely, he’ll save you from your cruel, wicked husband.”
Her eyes narrowed to slits, her nostrils flared, and her hands tightened on the iron. Catapulting indeed. He’d be catapulting all right, straight into hell if he couldn’t cool her temper.
“Uncaring,” she hissed.
“Uncaring what?”
“Ruthless,” she spat out.
“Emily.” He took another step forward.
“Deceitful,” she growled, raising the iron.
“Emily?” He held up a hand.
“My cruel, wicked, uncaring, ruthless, deceitful, arrogant husband,” she said, taking a swing in the air. The iron whacked the bed, the force of the impact unbalancing her. Noah took that moment to dive toward her, throwing his arms about her waist and tossing her onto the bed. He wrested the fire iron from her with his right hand, pinned her arms behind her head with his left and clamped a thigh over her lower body.