She met his gaze and shivered. “I’m glad I didn’t see that before.”
“So am I.” He helped her with the hooks of her sage-green woolen dress. “I wouldn’t have wanted it to distract you,” he added, grinning. “However, until Auclair is found it would not be a bad idea for you to keep your pistol with you as protection.”
She followed him outside into the rain, pinning her heavy hair into a knot at her nape. She was jolted back to reality by his calm acceptance, the fact that he deemed his life in enough danger that a simple walk in the woods might not be safe.
Or perhaps the pistol represented a part of his past, his profession, that he would always carry with him. She remembered the scars on his chest. He had been tortured and mercifully lived. But he had not forgotten his ordeal. The memories of cruelty that he had kept to himself surely haunted him. He would never lower his guard.
And the man who had tortured him was in England. Why? Why had he lured Russell to France? Why would he hunt down an officer who had escaped him? Did Heath know the true reason? Did Russell? Or was Armand Auclair simply mad, obsessed with killing? Was there rhyme or reason to his actions?
She pulled the hood of her cloak over her head. “Perhaps we should wait out the storm in the cave.”
“No. I want you safely inside the house.” He glanced back wistfully at the cave, concealed again by its covering of twisted vines. “This was only one of our favorite haunts as children.”
“It would seem your family’s reputation is well deserved.”
He grasped her hand, his eyes glittering with devilish amusement. “For a captive you are rather impertinent. Shall we make a run for it?”
She nodded. She loved that he had begun to share parts of his life with her. She was fascinated by the place he occupied in his family, the respect with which his brothers regarded him. He was a man like no other. She appreciated him more every day.
They were soaked to the skin when they burst through the estate’s ornamental gates and into the house a half hour later. Hermia met them in the entrance hall, her face white with distress. A small group of servants, dressed in cloaks and heavy boots, stood behind her.
“There you are!” she exclaimed, wringing her hands. “I was just about to send Hamm and a search party after you.”
Julia felt a guilty flush wash over her. She pushed off her hood, not daring to glance at Heath in case she gave herself away. She lost all sense of time when she was with him. “We only went for a walk.”
Hermia stared meaningfully at the brass buttons of Heath’s coat. The row was clearly misaligned, and Julia could blame only herself. She had rebuttoned it. “You were gone for almost three hours, Julia,” the woman said with a deep frown.
“Well,” Julia said, motioning covertly for Heath to fix his coat, “we waited out the worst of the storm.”
“In a cave,” Heath added. “Our Aladdin’s cave.”
Julia nodded. “It was like a treasure cave.”
Hermia subjected them both to a cold stare. “I think the two of you are more than a little wicked, and inconsiderate. Furthermore, I suspect you are wrong.”
Heath turned toward her, his face skeptical but respectful. By some sleight of hand he had managed to straighten out his buttons. “Wrong?” he asked, his brows lowering.
“Yes, wrong,” Hermia said in a miffed voice. “The storm has only just started. I predict that the worst of it is yet to come.”
It stopped raining early that evening. Julia, Heath, and Hermia enjoyed a quiet supper of cold chicken, cheese, and apple tarts before retiring to the family’s private drawing room. Hermia excused herself to change, her manner still offended but civil.
Heath and Julia settled in front of the fire as if, he thought ruefully, they were the picture of domestic happiness. He was sitting with his profile to her in a ladder-backed chair, the book she had given him on his lap.
“She’s still a little upset with us, you know,” Julia murmured as Hermia’s footsteps died away.
“I think we gave her a fright today,” he said.
She sighed. “I couldn’t very well explain to her what we were doing.”
His even white teeth gleamed in a grin. “I should hope not. But her worries are not unjustified. I was a little careless.”
She made a face. “Careless? You took me captive. In a cave.”
“Well, I do have a certain obligation to family tradition. You’re lucky you didn’t lose your head.”
“But I have lost my heart to you.”
He turned slowly in his chair. “Have you?”
“How can you doubt it?” she asked, studying his face.
“No feelings for Russell?”
“I don’t believe I ever felt more for him than gratitude and friendship. Perhaps, I was afraid to be alone.” She glanced at the fire. “How long have you known about him anyway?”
“Known about what?” he asked evenly.
“That he was betraying me.”
He leaned forward, his voice deep. “How long have you known?”
“Not as long as you, evidently.” She resisted as he turned her face to his. Understanding Heath as she did now, she decided that he must have had a time wrestling with his conscience. He would never deliberately hurt anyone. Perhaps by keeping Russell’s secret, Heath had hoped to protect her. But it would have been so much worse if she had not found out the truth. “Why didn’t you tell me? How could you let me be such a fool?”
“You were never a fool, Julia,” he said quickly. “He’s the fool for deceiving you.”
“But you knew.”
“I did not want to be chosen by default.”
Was that it then? Her proud, honorable protector wanted her on his terms, for his own merit.
“Were you ever going to tell me?” she asked softly.
“Not unless I had to. It wasn’t a card I wanted to play. All I am sure of is that I would not let you go again. He saved my life. I will always owe him for that.” He shook his head, his gaze holding hers. “But I wouldn’t have tolerated his taking you from me. In fact, I look forward to letting him know that you are mine.”
“I dread it—only because I do not think he will react well.” She scowled. “He’s having a child with another woman. I suppose you know that, too.”
“You could be carrying my child right now,” he said, with a smile to counteract her scowl.
The mere thought sent a shiver of longing through her. His child. She wished it were true. Hadn’t she realized a little earlier that a child would be the perfect expression of their love? Let Russell have all the acclaim and mistresses he desired. She wanted only a quiet life with Heath. Well, perhaps not quiet. Her missing sketch was certainly starting their affair off on an awkward foot.
“I shall never escape scandal,” she said with a soft laugh.
“Not marrying into this family, you won’t. I’d say we have a gift for it.”
“I don’t seem to be helping,” Julia said ruefully.
The door opened, and after a cool glance in their direction, Hermia returned to the sofa, a stack of letters clutched in her hand. Heath and Julia drew away from each other like children caught at mischief.
“Do continue,” Hermia said after a meaningful pause. “Heaven forbid that I should come between you.”
Julia gave her a fond smile. “Are you still upset with us about being out so long, Aunt Hermia?”
Hermia sighed, her face softening. “I am recovering, but I do believe . . . well, I never thought I would say this, but seeing the two of you together makes me face the painful fact that I am missing Odham.”
“Missing Odham?” Heath and Julia said in unison.
“Well, only a little bit,” she retorted. “He’s never given me back my letters, and I won’t forgive him until then.”
“But you are going to forgive him?” Heath asked curiously.
“I might. I haven’t decided.” Hermia glanced away, clearly flustered by this revelation. “Sto
p staring at me, both of you. Especially you, Boscastle. Those blue eyes of yours have a horrid way of unsettling a woman.”
“Isn’t that the truth?” Julia said under her breath.
“Read your book, Boscastle,” Hermia added. “Julia, tear yourself away from the rogue and decipher these letters for me. My eyesight is not what it used to be.”
Julia rose obediently, whispering to Heath, “Be a good boy for once, and do what you’re told.”
He grinned and glanced down at the book, but he was too preoccupied to concentrate. These stolen moments of pleasure would not go on indefinitely. He would not be truly content until they had faced Russell with the truth. He hoped that he and Russell could agree to find Auclair and deal with their personal dilemma in mutually satisfying ways. If Russell did not offer his forgiveness, then at least Heath could look forward to the future with a clear conscience.
And to a future with Julia, with family around them to share the rest of their lives with.
His gaze lingered on her profile as she bent over Hermia’s letters. A dark red curl had fallen across her breasts. Lush. That was how he would describe the woman Julia had become. Lush. Layer upon layer of complex, captivating woman. The perfect mate to stand by his side through the years. Passionate. He ached to have her again right then and there, and his own impatience amused him.
That afternoon in the cave . . . well, he had never had such wild uninhibited sex, but everything about it, about her, had felt so right. He’d been comfortable with her from the moment they’d met. Somehow he knew that when—and if—he could ever reveal his deepest thoughts to anyone, it would be to Julia. And she would understand.
She glanced up at him, her smile seductive and mischievous. His blood heated dangerously at that smile.
He hoped she would still be smiling after he had dealt with Russell. He had a feeling that the confrontation between the two men would end badly. And there would be the inevitable flurry of gossip when Heath married her, as she had pointed out earlier. Funny how he’d always believed himself above this sort of thing. Well, he was in the thick of it now. They had lived through worse.
In a way, the whole situation only emphasized how potent the Boscastle blood was. For an honorable man he was behaving quite shamelessly. Which showed that he had not escaped heredity. He had only proved it. But Julia had found his weakness. She had carved a place in his heart before war had hardened him, filled him with more questions than answers. She balanced out the darkness inside him that he had not been able to fight.
She had known about Russell’s betrayal. Heath would never have told her. He would have carried that secret to his grave before causing her pain or humiliation. But on the other hand, he felt relieved that she finally knew. Had the discovery influenced her decision to sleep with him? To give him her heart? He did not think so.
It should not matter. In a strange way, Russell had brought them back together. They were indebted to him. Russell would not see the situation in these terms, of course. He was a man who lived to impress others, a man of the world, of appearances. He would be outraged that anyone would defy or deny him. He would be outraged and unwilling to accept the fact that he had taken Julia for granted. And Heath would not back down.
He lowered his gaze, smiling as he listened to Julia read her aunt’s letters.
What was it Julia had said earlier, when they’d been walking in the woods?
He had been so engaged in her, so physically aroused and attuned to their surroundings, that he hadn’t really listened.
But he remembered now. The evocative scent of her, the beckoning warmth of her body against his as the rain washed down upon them.
Everything is perfect.
His fingers curled around the spine of the book that sat unopened on his lap.
She glanced up at him over the letter and raised one brow.
He gave her a slow smile in return, noticing how she caught the edge of her lip in her teeth. If he could preserve this moment in time, if it were in his power, he would do so without hesitation.
Hermia cleared her throat. Julia returned her attention to the letter. She looked so flustered that Heath laughed. The two of them were clearly past trying to hide their feelings. At this point they could not even deceive themselves.
The scandal of their love would rock Society. And then Heath would pass the reins of his roguedom down to Drake or Devon. Julia was more than enough to keep him satisfied.
Everything is perfect.
A noise, the muffled clamor of someone banging at the gates, interrupted his enjoyable musings.
At first Julia did not notice. But then her startled gaze met his, questioning and concerned. She lowered the letter she had been reading aloud.
He stood and strode to the window. The dogs, Grayson’s pack of wolfhounds, began to howl in warning. He could see Hamm and three other servants hurrying toward the gate. He pivoted and headed for the door.
“Take Hermia with you to the tower,” he instructed Julia in a calm but firm voice.
Hermia rose in concern, her hand grasping Julia’s. “What is it, Heath?”
“I shall send Hamm up to stay with you. Just as a precaution. Do not worry. Grayson frequently has guests who arrive at all hours.”
He opened the door to usher them out into the hall. The book he had meant to read had fallen onto the floor.
“It is probably nothing,” he said. “Perhaps it’s only Drake or Devon, in their cups, demanding to be let in.”
Julia placed her arm around Hermia’s waist. “It’s rather late to be on the road, isn’t it?”
“It could not be Auclair, could it?” Hermia whispered.
Julia shook her head. “I doubt a French spy would bang on the gates demanding entry. Still, whoever it is sounds quite insistent.”
Heath watched them disappear up the stone staircase. The muscles of his shoulders were stretched taut with tension. Even if it were only a guest, it meant his privacy, his precious time with Julia, would be threatened. Just as he turned to go outside, he heard Hermia’s voice drifting down.
“You don’t suppose it could be Russell, do you? I wonder if he’s found out. Oh, Julia, I hope the two of them don’t kill each other over you.”
The unexpected late-night visitor turned out to be neither a spy nor an outraged Russell. It was instead the Earl of Odham, his cheeks red with exertion. His white tufts of hair were disheveled from travel. To calm himself, he sipped a brandy in the drawing room with Heath, Julia, and Hermia watching him with a mixture of relief and curiosity.
“What is the meaning of this, Odham?” Hermia asked in a displeased voice, clearly forgetting that she had confessed to missing him only a short time ago.
He blew out a sigh. Hermia was seated stiffly in the opposite chair. Heath and Julia had withdrawn to play the neutral party on the sofa.
“I have come to surrender, Hermia,” he announced, collapsing back in his chair.
Hermia frowned, alarm darkening her eyes. “Surrender?”
“Yes. You have won.”
Hermia paused. “Exactly what have I won?”
“Your freedom. Your old letters.” He produced a packet from the folds of his dark gray fur-lined cloak. The letters had been carefully preserved in a red velvet pouch. Odham’s hand trembled visibly as he held out his peace offering. “There. I shall leave now. Do not worry about my traveling this late at night. My coachman can bury my body in a ditch if I expire. There’s nothing left to live for if I lose you.”
Hermia’s brow shot up. “Stop it, you blustering fool.”
Heath coughed loudly. “I think perhaps it is Julia and I who should leave.”
Hermia said nothing, turning the pouch over in her hands.
Odham sent Heath a grateful look, as one old rogue to a younger member of their private sect. His dark brown eyes twinkled in appreciation.
Julia began to laugh as Heath swept her from the sofa and out into the hall. “Where, may I ask, are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
His strong hand claimed hers. She felt her heart race as he drew her down a portrait-lined hallway that she had overlooked before. The vast house had numerous rooms. “Another Boscastle hideaway?” she asked in amusement.
“Clever woman, how did you guess?”
He whisked her into a dark, dusty room, shimmers of moonlight catching glints on the swords and ancient weapons arranged on the oaken wall. Julia bumped into a helmeted coat of armor with Gothic gauntlets and stifled a scream, backing into Heath.
“A weapons room?”
He locked the door, watching her with glittering eyes. “Another excellent guess. We were forbidden to play here as children.”
“Why did we have to leave Hermia and Odham? The conversation had just gotten interesting.”
“I thought they deserved their privacy. As we do ours.”
She turned to examine a huge spiked ball attached to a morning star, a vicious medieval weapon. “Interesting collection of arms you have here. Are you going to challenge me to a duel?”
He smiled. “I wouldn’t dare. You might win.”
She glanced up at the display of crossbows and battle-axes above the massive stone fireplace. He had unbuttoned his jacket and stood with his hip against the door, watching her. “Somehow I doubt that.”
“I would never underestimate you, Julia.”
She gave him an arch look. “You’re certainly the stronger player in this game.”
He pushed away from the door. Lean-hipped, handsome, he was temptation incarnate, right down to the way he walked, that commanding cavalry officer’s control of his body. “How many captives have you brought here?” she demanded, striving to maintain her equilibrium. And failing.
“None, actually.”
She felt a shiver slide over her skin as his firm mouth found a vulnerable spot above her shoulder. He bit her tenderly. Her breathing deepened. Was there an inch of her body that could resist this man’s seduction?
The Wedding Night of an English Rogue Page 26