Earth, Air, Fire, and Water 04 - A Treacherous Proposition

by Patricia Frances Rowell

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Cobbs. I wanted to show Fanny my new foal. It’s my fault.”

  “Huh.” The housekeeper’s voice softened a bit. “I know very well how it happened, Jacob, but if you want to keep walking out together, you best mind.”

  “Oh, yes, ma’am. We will,” the young man promised earnestly. “Good night, Fanny.”

  The door closed and young Harter made his way down the steps.

  Vincent and Diana stayed where they were until they heard his whistling disappear into the distance. Vincent lifted himself off her and she sat up.

  The chuckles finally made their way out of Diana. “What a sight we must be! The master and supposed mistress of the manor cowering under a bench, hoping to escape detection by a pair of young lovers.”

  Vincent leaned back against the balustrade, grinning, the pistol held loosely in his hand. “One feels a little foolish.”

  “Yes. One does.” Hysterical laughter began to grow in Diana. After all the tension… She took a deep breath and, with an effort, contained it. “Poor boy. Not even a good-night kiss.”

  “Oh, I suspect he had a few kisses. The foal was probably in his byre.” He sighed and looked at her, suddenly sober. “Which is more than I had—or should have.” He ran his fingers through his hair and shoved the pistol into his belt. “I’m sorry, Diana. I have been struggling to treat you with the respect you deserve. Forgive me. I should not have touched you, but you looked so sad…”

  The laughter died in Diana. She stared up at the stars. “Yes, I am sad. I have very little to look forward to, Vincent. And my children… I fear it is inevitable that I will be separated from them—one way or another.”

  “Diana…” He extended a hand toward her.

  She did not look at him. “And you see… My honor no longer matters. I have no reputation any longer. I would take what comfort I may—while I still can. I would shut out the fear.”

  Something like a growl issued from him.

  He reached out and jerked her into his arms.

  She came to him easily. For several minutes he was awash with the scent of her, the softness of her breasts against him, the heat of her mouth under his as he pressed her against himself. His starving senses could not get enough of her. She melted into him, matching touch with touch, tongue with tongue, moan with moan.

  He slid to the side, laying her down. He stretched out beside her, one knee drawn up across her body. He fastened his fingers in her hair and devoured her face with his eyes and lips and tongue. As she arched her body against him, his mouth moved of its own accord over her throat to the top of the neckline of her gown. There he tasted the swell of her breasts, breathing in the musky fragrance of her skin.

  Her moan brought him to his senses. He could not take her lying here on the stones of the terrace floor. Not in the open, vulnerable to unseen dangers. Coming to one knee, he scooped her up and made for the library door. He shoved it open with one shoulder and kicked it closed behind him.

  A sofa faced the fireplace. He set her on it and knelt in front of her, lifting her skirt and spreading her knees. Hands fumbling behind her, he found enough buttons to loosen the dress and tugged it off her shoulders. Then he pulled her hips forward against his throbbing erection and buried his face in her bosom. Her fingers tangled in his hair as he covered her nipple with his mouth, and she rocked her hips forward.

  He could stand it no longer. He yanked at the buttons of his buckskin britches, undoing the flap. Falling backward, he pulled her on top of him and lifted her onto his straining shaft. He could not go slowly. Every sense screamed for her. He gripped her hips and drove into her, while she tightened around him.

  Somewhere in the red haze that engulfed him, he heard her cry out, felt her go rigid. In the next second his own voice burst out of him. Vincent went completely out of control, pumping his seed into her. Waves of sensation swept over him until he fell limply back to the floor.

  Diana lay against his chest, exhausted. He fastened his arms around her and held her hard against him until the ache of the floor against his back and the chill of the dying fire roused him.

  “Come,” he said, setting her gently to the side. “It is time for bed.”

  They spent the night in her bed, so that she could hear the children in the next room if they cried out. She fell asleep, her naked back held close against his chest and his hand at her waist. And she woke, sometime in the night, with his hand on her breast and his lips against the nape of her neck. The hand moved, closing over her nipple, sliding down her body, coming to rest between her legs. Pressing. Circling. His shaft pulsed against her bottom.

  Diana sighed and turned to him. He slid over her and joined his body to hers, thrusting slowly, brushing his mouth across hers, bending to nibble her throat. One hand stroked her breast. He thrust… And again… Harder… Rocking against her. Circling… Harder…

  Diana’s scream would certainly have waked the children, and Throckmorton into the bargain, had Vincent not swallowed it, smothering it with his mouth. Mouths and tongues and bodies entwined, he thrust faster and faster until Diana would have cried out again had she been able. She barely heard his muffled groan as her head swam and her heart pounded, the world swirling away into myriad sparkling colors.

  He moved to the side and gathered her into his arms, holding her tightly against his chest. Gently he kissed the top of her head and stroked her back. Diana snuggled against him until she heard his breathing grow steady and even as his hand stilled and he drifted back to sleep. Even then she did not move from his arms, but lay awake for some time, savoring the closeness, absorbing his soothing touch. How long had it been since she had been held by anyone? She wanted to stay there forever.

  Did she dare? Could he possibly really care for her?

  She needed so much to believe that someone did.

  Chapter Nine

  Well, he had done it. In spite of all his honorable intentions. But he could not be sorry for it. If he died tomorrow, at least he would have known her. And she would be cared for. His own will had seen to that. Eldritch Manor and his private fortune would be hers if he met an untimely demise.

  Vincent did not flatter himself that Diana would grieve for him. What passed between them last night had been born of his desire and her desperation. She still distrusted him. And he still could not trust her.

  He could only want her.

  And today he must make plans to protect her. She blushed and studied her plate when he found her in the breakfast parlor and dropped a quick kiss on the back of her neck. He had risen before her and gone to his own chamber, not wanting the maid to find him when she brought Diana’s chocolate. Though why it mattered, he could not say. The staff thought them husband and wife.

  But he knew better.

  And so did she.

  Vincent stifled the impulse to reassure her, to tell her that he understood the impulse of the moment, the magic of the new moon. The urgency of fear. That he would expect nothing more from her. He would speak to her about that later, when they had more privacy. Now he needed to inform her of their impending departure.

  He settled for patting her gently on the shoulder and sat in the opposite chair. “We need to discuss plans. I have become convinced that we need to move on.”

  “Oh, dear.” She set her cup down and gazed at him. “It is so pleasant here. I hate to leave.”

  “Yes.” Vincent poured coffee into his own cup. “It has been a very comfortable stay, but I am becoming uneasy.” He could not afford comfort. “I have become complacent. The episodes of the last two nights have shown me that. We were very vulnerable on both occasions.”

  “But there was actually no danger either time.” Diana set the preserves by his place while he rose and filled a plate from the sideboard. “Most likely Old Annie heard Fanny and young Harter on their evening walk.”

  He turned, eyes narrowed in thought. “I am not as sure of that as I would like to be.” He sat, took a mouthful of eggs and chewed. Sw
allowing, he added, “Old Annie might indeed have seen or heard someone else spying about.”

  “How could so old a woman have heard something we did not?” Diana pushed her plate away and leaned back in her chair. “Old persons are usually rather deaf.”

  “That’s true, of course. Still…” Vincent could not quite put a finger on the source of his disquiet. “But she is very familiar with this area. Something out of place might catch her attention, and I do not wish to discount a real threat. No, we must go. I’m sorry.”

  Diana sighed. “Very well. I suppose you know best.”

  Vincent wished he could be sure he did. “Who is to say for sure? But I have a feeling…” He could not exactly describe it. “Rather like Old Annie’s premonition of danger. Cobbs says she has the sight.”

  “I would not expect you to credit that.” Diana smiled. “It does not seem like you.”

  “I’ve learned to believe in my instincts. Perhaps Mistress Annie has learned to believe in hers.” He finished his beef and reached for his cup to wash it down. “How soon can you be ready to depart this morning?”

  “Today?” Dismay filled her voice. “I… Well, later this morning, I should think. I haven’t much to take. Oh, my. The children will be so disappointed. They have become very fond of Fanny and Mrs. Cobbs.”

  Vincent stood and rested his hand on her shoulder. He would allow himself nothing more. “I’m sorry. Perhaps when this danger has passed, they can return for a visit—though by then, Fanny may have become Mrs. Harter. But I am sure they will enjoy Inglewood once we arrive.”

  “We are going there, then?”

  “Yes. I think the time has come to entice our enemies into the light.”

  Diana did not recognize the coach pulled up before the main door of Eldritch Manor. Where the vehicle in which they had arrived had been black, this one shone with a rich wood finish trimmed in burgundy. Inside, the velvet upholstery echoed the deep wine.

  “Is this your carriage?” She turned to where Vincent descended the stairs carrying a portmanteau carelessly in one hand.

  He glanced around for other ears. Finding none, he nodded, his smile sly. “Greenleigh keeps it here.”

  “I see. What will you do with the other one?”

  “I’ll send for it, or it will await my return.” He shrugged.

  At that point Throckmorton appeared at the top of the stairs, a trunk perched easily on his shoulder. Diana went out into the soft summer sunshine. At least they would not have to ride all night in the dark, but how she was to keep the children entertained all day in the coach, she did not know.

  They were on the front steps, engaged in telling the Cobbs family farewell. At least they seemed pleasantly excited about another journey. Mrs. Cobbs turned as she came out the door. “Ah, Mrs. Greenleigh, we will miss you. Such a shame that you have to leave so soon, but I suppose Mr. Greenleigh’s business can’t wait.”

  “No, we have had an agreeable holiday, but we must go. Thank you so much for your kindness. And please tell Mistress Annie that I appreciate her helping me.”

  “Oh, dear. I almost forgot.” The housekeeper fished in her pocket of the apron and withdrew the small pot of salve. “Old Annie says that the comfrey should now help complete the healing. You must use it three times each day.”

  “Thank you.” Diana slipped the ointment into her own pocket. “Perhaps we will see you again before long.”

  Fanny hugged Selena and Bytham and helped them into the carriage. “Be good children.”

  They chorused an assurance that they would be truly excellent children until they saw her again. Diana could only hope so. They had a very long ride before them, one for which she wished she had some privacy for her own thoughts. She needed to sort out her feelings about the passionate interlude with Vincent; the fact that she had slept with a spy.

  But she would not have that opportunity. Instead she would be sitting next to him in the small space, smelling his scent and feeling the ripple of muscle in his thigh each time he adjusted his position.

  Hardly a situation for cool reflection.

  He handed her up into the carriage and climbed in behind her. All of them waved vigorously at those left standing on the steps of Eldritch Manor as Throckmorton set the horses in motion. They left the house behind at a spanking pace. In the drive and the lanes, all they could see was trees, but when they reached the main pike, fields and houses became visible, providing something to interest Selena and Bytham. Diana was pointing out sheep and cattle and haystacks for their amusement when the carriage abruptly turned into another wooded lane.

  She looked questioningly at Vincent. He smiled crookedly. “Another small subterfuge.”

  After a few more minutes the coach pulled to a stop. Vincent got out and took his valise down from the boot. Opening it, he retrieved a small signboard with a coat of arms emblazoned on it. Curious, Diana climbed down from the coach, followed by Selena and Bytham. Vincent pointed to two hooks fixed to the door of the carriage that Diana had not noticed before. He hung the sign on them and secured a catch at the bottom.

  “Is that the Lonsdale crest?” Somehow it did not look familiar to Diana. Vincent shook his head. “Then whose is it?”

  “I have no idea. I suspect that it is no one’s.” He tested the security of the sign and stepped back to admire it.

  “I see. Does this no one have a title?” Diana smiled. “Which is to say, who are we now?”

  “Lord and Lady Throckmorton, I believe.” He gestured at the grinning Throckmorton who had joined them on the ground and was doffing his coachman’s coat and wig. He handed them to Vincent, who tucked them into the suitcase out of which he had pulled his own. “His lordship here, will of course ride inside while I drive. He is much too distinctive to be left on the box.”

  Diana glanced at the children. “Do you think anyone will be misled?”

  “Oh, yes. People see what they expect to see. If one does not see an unusually large coachman or a plain black coach, they will not look further at a lord’s coach with an ordinary driver.”

  Throckmorton smiled at Diana. “I ain’t had so much fun since I…” The big man hesitated. “Uh, since I took employment with Lord Litton. You won’t mind if I ride inside, my lady?”

  “Why, no. I’ll be happy for your company.”

  Selena bounced happily on her toes. “We can play that game you showed us.”

  “Right enough. Now, in you go, miss. Come, Master Bytham.”

  Throckmorton bundled the children into the carriage and helped Diana up the steps while Vincent climbed onto the box. Diana realized that by now the boxer and her offspring had become fast friends. He had been with them most of every day, even sleeping in the room with them.

  When they were settled, the coach made a wide turn and headed back to the pike. Immediately, Selena held out her closed fist, her thumb extended. Bytham chortled and wrapped his hand around her thumb and offered his own to Throckmorton. The big man added his great paw to the stack, closing his hand carefully around Bytham’s thumb. Then the three of them repeated the process until their hands were piled six deep. Diana watched, fascinated.

  Selena gazed up at Throckmorton. “Knock it off or blow it off?” she inquired saucily.

  He grinned at her. “Let’s see you knock it off, miss.”

  Both hands captured, Selena puzzled for a moment, then bumped Throckmorton’s fist with her chin. His hand fell limply to his side. She turned to her brother. “Knock it off or blow it off?”

  “Blow it off!”

  His sister puffed and Bytham’s hand flew upward. And so it went until only Selena’s little fist was left. Throckmorton peered at her closed hand. “What’s in there?”

  A giggle. “Bread and cheese.”

  “Where’s my share?”

  “The rat got it!”

  “Where’s the rat?

  “The cat got it,” shouted Bytham.

  “Where’s the cat?”

  “On the roof,�
� Selena cried, “and the first one to laugh or show his teeth gets… Gets a pinch!”

  She immediately clapped both hands over her mouth, her eyes bright. Bytham followed her example. Throckmorton assumed a ferocious scowl. Uncertain whether or not the threat applied to her, Diana decided against laughing. Not that it was easy! They rode in silence for perhaps fifteen seconds before Selena let out a whoop.

  “Aha!” Throckmorton gave her cheek a tiny pinch. “We win, Miss Selena.”

  “I want to gallop!” Bytham announced. He crawled across the intervening space and onto Throckmorton’s knees.

  “Do you, now? Very well. Hold on tight.” The big footman started the familiar rhyme, suiting the action of his knees to the words. “My lord goes riding, a-trot, trot, trot. My lady goes riding, a-canter, a-canter. My young master goes riding, jockety-hitch, jockety-hitch. My young missy goes riding, an amble, an amble.” He stilled his knees and the coach grew very quiet as the children held their breaths. Very slowly and portentously, Throckmorton measured his words. “But the groom lags behind…to tipple ale and wine…and must go…”

  “A-gallop, a-gallop, a-gallop to make up his time!” Selena joined in as Throckmorton galloped his knees wildly and Bytham held on for dear life. “Now me!” She tugged at her brother.

  Diana laughed out loud. “Great heavens, Throckmorton, have they worn you out completely these past weeks? I had no idea.”

  “Oh, no, my lady. I love the little ones. Don’t have none of my own.” He set Bytham on the seat and lifted Selena.

  After two more rounds of My Lord Goes Riding, Diana took pity on the good-natured giant and called a halt. Rock, Paper, Scissors was not nearly as exciting, but a deal more restful in the confined space. Still, they were all relieved when they pulled into an inn yard for a nuncheon and a change of horses.

  Diana had no opportunity either to talk to Vincent or to think about him for the rest of the day. He ate his mutton in the inn stable while Throckmorton ate with her and the children. What arrangements would be made when they stopped for the night? That question was answered that evening, at yet another inn, when Throckmorton, in his role as lord, requested a private parlor with two adjoining bedchambers and dinner brought up.