by Sandra Heath
Suddenly a foolishly obvious thought struck Judith. What if Verity had already returned, but to the back of the house? Snatching up her shawl, the witch hurried from the room, and soon emerged into the cool of the May evening. Everything was fresh after the storm, and puddles shone on the road as she made her way to Windsor House, where moisture fell from the lilacs as she pushed open the gate.
She knocked at the door, and the sound seemed to echo through the entire building. After a moment a maid hastened to answer. “Good evening, Mrs. Villiers.”
MIs Miss Windsor at home yet?”
“No, ma’am, she—she ...” The girl’s eyes filled with tears.
“She’s had a riding accident, ma’am, and has been taken to Wychavon Castle.”
Judith was shaken. “To the castle?” she repeated.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Has she been badly hurt?” Judith asked, wishing Verity had broken her interfering neck.
“No, ma’am, but she’ll have to stay there for a day or so, I don’t know exactly how long.”
“I’m so sorry to hear it,” Judith replied insincerely, swiftly collecting her thoughts. “Actually, I’ve come for Lord Montacute’s seal. Miss Windsor requested me to return it to him, so perhaps you could give it to me?”
The maid looked blankly at her. “Lord Montacute’s seal?”
“That’s what I said.”
“I—I don’t know anything about it, ma’am.”
“Perhaps you could look for it?” Judith hinted, keeping a tight hold on her patience. The seal had only to be taken from Verity’s windowsill, so if she could just persuade this village dunderhead to do as she wished, the spell could be recast this very night!
The maid was dismayed. “But I wouldn’t know where to begin, ma’am.”
“I believe it’s on her windowsill, and since I’m about to leave for the castle now, it’s really quite urgent that I have it.”
But she had pressed a little too much, and the maid suddenly became uneasy. “I’m afraid I cannot take anything without Miss Verity’s or Mr. Windsor’s express instruction, ma’am, and besides, I’m sure Mr. Windsor will wish to return it when he visits Miss Verity on his return from Ludlow.”
There was nothing Judith could say to this, so she gave a false smile and turned to walk away, but her fists were clenched and she was so furious she slammed the gate behind her. The lilacs shivered and scattered drips all over her.
She didn’t hear the Reverend Crawshaw riding toward her on his large new cob, and knew nothing until there was a sudden clatter of hooves and a startled cry. “Have a care there, madam!”
She looked up in startlement and saw the cob shaking its head impatiently only inches from her. The vicar leaned reproachfully forward in the saddle. “You walked right out in front of me, Mrs. Villiers.”
“I, er, wasn’t concentrating.” Judith took a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed her eyes. “I—I was thinking of the poor, dear admiral...” she added in a convincingly broken whisper.
“Oh, dear lady,” he exclaimed, and with difficulty dismounted from the cob, which was a very large and difficult animal for someone of indifferent riding skills. Then he took Judith’s hand and patted it sympathetically. “Grief must run its course, Mrs. Villiers, and eventually it will become bearable.”
“Yes, I—I’m sure you’re right,” Judith replied, striving not to snatch her fingers from all contact with a man of the cloth. To her relief the cob was impatient to be off again, dancing around on sharp hooves and shaking its bridle.
The vicar held the reins tightly and gave Judith a rather sheepish look. “I fear my new mount is rather a handful,” he declared with masterly understatement, for the sight of his equestrian endeavors had caused endless amusement in the village.
Someone hailed him at that moment, and they turned to see the church verger hurrying across the stepping stones. “Reverend Crawshaw, oh, Reverend Crawshaw, something dreadful has happened!” he called.
The vicar was alarmed. “Whatever is it, Mr. Tipton?”
“I’ve only just found out that lightning struck the vestry roof during the storm, and there’s a great deal of damage. You really must come and see without delay. I fear the repairs will be costly.”
Reverend Crawshaw was dismayed. “I’ll come immediately!” he cried, and touched his hat to Judith. “Forgive me, madam, but I must attend to his unfortunate matter.” He began to haul himself back into the saddle, and the cob danced around mutinously before at last allowing him to urge it toward the ford. The verger hurried after him.
Judith watched them sourly. What fools they were, she thought, fixing the cob with a dark look. She was rewarded by the animal’s sudden start and the vicar’s cry of alarm as for a moment it seemed he would be deposited in the river. The verger teetered across the stepping stones, and only just managed to reach the other side in safety.
The witch turned to walk back to the manor house. At that moment she wouldn’t have given a fig if either man had drowned, for she was too concerned with how to lay hands upon the seal so that Nicholas could begin paying the full price for his forefather’s crimes.
She cast a vitriolic backward glance at Verity’s bedroom window, where she could still see the faint green glow of the seal. This was all the magistrate’s niece’s fault, she thought. If it weren’t for dear, sweet Verity, by now Nicholas Montacute would be under the spell. She paused. The fact that he had left London proved that to some extent he was already influenced, but how much, that was the question? Could he be susceptible enough for her to proceed anyway, even without the seal?
Her thoughts began to race and without further ado she decided to go to the grove. It was almost dark, and with Hecate’s aid she’d be able to slip unseen into the castle tonight. There she’d soon find out how much sway she held over the ninth Lord Montacute! With a faint smile, she set off across the stepping stones and along the Ludlow road, where long shadows now merged into the gathering gloom of twilight.
She had passed Sadie’s cottage when the door opened and Martha came out. The old nurse was close to tears because Davey still showed no sign of improvement. Carrying him around the Lady didn’t seem to have been beneficial at all, and Dr. Rogers hadn’t proved very helpful either. He had left some medicine and had instructed Sadie to light a fire in the child’s bedroom, even though the cottage kitchen ensured that the small building was already warm throughout. Something had been said about applying leeches the next day, and then he had climbed back into his tilbury and driven off again.
Martha returned to Windsor House. She already knew about Verity’s accident, for word had been sent to her at the cottage, but she didn’t know that Judith had called twice. The seal’s importance was apparent to her the moment she learned of the witch’s interest in it.
She hastened up to Verity’s bedroom and found the seal still lying on the windowsill. It just seemed to be an ordinary enough object, she thought at first, turning it over, and looking deep into the tiger’s eye quartz. Hecate’s magic hadn’t touched her, so there weren’t any strange green lights, but even so she began to sense enchantment.
Her thin fingers closed slowly over the seal. If the witch wanted this so badly that she was prepared to come openly to the door and ask for it, then it was something she must not be allowed to have. And there was one hiding place no witch would dare to go—the church!
Later, when evensong was over and everyone had gone home, she would place it beneath the great silver-gilt cross on the altar.
* * *
There were two reasons why dinner at Wychavon Castle had proved a restrained affair that night. Firstly, Oliver and Anna were both very tired after the journey, and secondly they’d both attempted to question Nicholas again about his acquaintance with Verity. His reluctance to discuss it merely fueled their curiosity, but he refused to be drawn about something he didn’t really understand himself, and thus both the conversation and the meal dragged to an unsatisfactory
end. After that, Oliver and Anna decided the wisest thing would be to bring the whole evening to a close by retiring.
Nicholas was too restless to do the same. Verity’s close proximity rattled his equilibrium, and try as he would, he couldn’t stop thinking about those few outrageous minutes in the mill. Outrageous and exquisitely pleasurable. He was still shaken by the eroticism that had seized them both and knew that he should try to speak to her alone. What her reaction might be was in the lap of the gods, but he had to see her, and there was no time like the present, when the rest of the castle was quiet.
Steeling himself for a meeting that was a completely unknown quantity, he went up toward her room. There were few lights now, and shadows reared all around him. Suddenly he felt as if someone were watching from behind a pillar. There was no one there when he went to look, but then he heard a sound, like a small animal—a cat maybe—bounding away toward the great hall.
After a moment there was silence again, and he continued up the broad stone staircase that curved between Norman pillars to the oak-ceilinged gallery on the second floor.
Chapter Eleven
Candlelight glowed beneath Verity’s door, but there was no sound from inside to indicate if she was awake. He became suddenly irresolute again, and paced slowly up and down. He still wanted to speak to her alone, but was her bedchamber at night the proper place? What if she were to misunderstand? He might be accused of grossly improper conduct toward a young woman who was, strictly speaking, under his protection. But if they could talk, maybe ...
Maybe what? His own feelings were still so confused he had no idea what he really wanted. In fact, everything seemed to have been confusing from the moment he and Oliver had left White’s on May Eve. Yes, that was when his whole world had seemed to start turning upside down!
He faced the door again, and after taking a deep breath he tapped lightly upon the carved oak surface. “Miss Windsor, may I speak with you?” he called softly. There was no reply, so he called again, but still there wasn’t a response.
The last thing he should have done was open the door, but he pushed it ajar a few inches, and looked into the dimly lit room beyond. She was asleep, her hair pouring in golden ripples over the pillow. He knew he should close the door and walk away, but there was something so very beautiful and alluring about her, that instead he went to stand by the bed.
He was conscious of the now familiar sexual enthrallment sweeping over him again. It was as if he’d stepped inside an invisible ring where strange forces robbed him of his customary moral code, and him prey to an alien new immorality. Desire spread through him anew as he gazed down at the thickness of her lashes, and the way her lips curved as if her dreams were pleasant.
The bedclothes silhouetted her figure, so relaxed and defenseless in sleep, and as she moved slightly, the nightgown she’d borrowed from Anna parted over her breasts, revealing one dainty nipple. Its upturned pinkness seemed to invite his lips, and excitement gathered at his loins, pulsing imperatively with a force that was visible beneath the white silk of his breeches.
Dear God, he wanted to fall on her, ravish her, arouse her into a passion to match his own ... Bewildered by the power of the attraction he felt for her, he had to turn away. His heart was pounding, and he felt hot. The scent of herbs seemed to drift over him, urging him to take her, but instead he stumbled from the room and closed the door behind him. Then he leaned back against it with his eyes closed. Was this bewitchment? For as God was his witness, that was how he felt. Verity Windsor had cast a spell over him, and he was at her mercy.
Then he opened his eyes a little ashamedly. Wasn’t that the excuse of man throughout the centuries? He accused woman of using black arts to enslave him, when all the time the culprit was his own sexuality. He exhaled very slowly, and then straightened. He couldn’t blame anyone but himself for the way he felt now. He wanted Verity Windsor, and that was all there was to it.
He didn’t know why it had suddenly happened like this, but she’d aroused the sort of hunger he hadn’t felt in far too long. Scales had fallen from his eyes, and he was seeing her properly for the first time; and what he saw he wanted with a ferocity he found hard to cope with.
There was a sound along the passage, and he turned guiltily. The last thing he wanted was for one of the servants to see him outside Verity’s door! Quickly he walked away in the opposite direction, taking a circuitous route to his own apartment, which faced over the gardens toward the distant village.
The rooms were lit by a single candle which shivered as he closed the door behind him. Gray velvet curtains were drawn across the arched windows, and on a table, with a glass and decanter of cognac, stood the portable escritoire he took with him wherever he went.
He crossed to the adjoining dressing room and took off all his clothes before dousing his face with cold water from the jug. Then he ran his fingers through his hair and went to fling himself on the bed. He stared up at the canopy. He’d never thought of himself as a lustful man, but where Verity was concerned, he suddenly seemed to be ruled by his loins!
The sound he’d heard outside Verity’s door was audible again now, and his gaze flew toward the nearest window. Someone was there! He sat up warily. “Come out, whoever you are,” he commanded.
The curtains moved slightly, and Verity stepped from behind them. She was naked, the curves of her body soft and sensuous in the dim light. Her hair fell in a golden glory around her shoulders, there was a tempting smile on her lips, and her lilac eyes were warm and seductive. Lilac eyes, not emerald ... The thought was only fleeting, for as she approached the bed, he knew she intended to make love to him.
“Verity?” he whispered.
For a moment he thought her eyes flashed with anger, but then she smiled again. “I want you, Nicholas,” she murmured, kneeling on the bed and slowly putting questing fingers over his manhood.
He lay back as helpless need thundered through him. His gaze moved over her, drinking in the perfection of her breasts, the slenderness of her waist, and the firmness of her thighs. She was so beautiful, and so very very desirable ...
She gave a low laugh, and knelt beside him on the bed before bending to kiss the tip of the shaft she’d aroused so effortlessly. He felt the gentle touch of her tongue, then her lips enclosed him. Oh, God, oh, God, this was ecstasy. A sigh shuddered from him and he closed his eyes as she took him fully into her mouth.
His body quivered with excitement. How could she know of such things? Where had she learned? Dizzy pleasure rippled over him, and he had to pull away for fear it would end too soon. He put a hand up to touch her hair. “Oh, Verity, my love,” he breathed, sliding his fingers adoringly into the heavy golden curls.
She raised her face to look at him, and for a moment his pleasure checked. She didn’t seem like the Verity he’d been with at the mill, there was something different about her. It wasn’t just her eyes, it was as if she were a different woman....
She smiled. “Do you want me, Nicholas?”
The doubt faded. “Yes, oh, yes ...”
She knelt up and then moved astride him, easing herself down onto his erection.
He gasped as her warmth sheathed his whole length. He stretched his hands up to clasp her breasts, and felt her nipples thrust into his palms as she began to move up and down on him. She took her time, and every tiny movement afforded him such exquisite pleasure he thought he would pass out. He wanted the rapture to go on and on, but was approaching climax. He closed his eyes as wonderful feelings raced from his loins and along his veins, then he cried out as the final moment came.
Wild joy scattered over his entire body, and he opened his eyes again. But it wasn’t Verity who rode his manhood with such voluptuous abandon, it was the admiral’s russet-haired widow! Shock engulfed him as he stared up into her willful hazel eyes, then he pushed her away and leapt up from the bed, but when he turned, she was nowhere to be seen.
The curtains moved, and he ran to wrench them aside and breathe deeply
of the cool night air. The window was open, and he gazed out into the moonlit night. The gardens stretched away below, too far down for anyone to have jumped, and the only thing that moved was a hare that leapt away beneath the laburnum walk before disappearing.
He felt sick and shaken. What in the devil had just happened? How could Verity have turned into the Villiers woman? And how could anyone disappear like that?
He went to the table and poured himself a cognac, which he drank in one gulp. There was no doubt he had just made love with someone. He had thought it was Verity, but common sense told him it couldn’t possibly have been her. He’d left her asleep, and anyway, she couldn’t possibly know the things his mysterious seductress had known. Verity was untouched, he’d stake his life on it; the woman who’d just come to him had been very experienced indeed.
He poured himself another glass. This was the second time he’d believed himself to have received uninvited attentions from the enigmatic Mrs. Villiers, and both times she’d seemed to just disappear afterward. He swirled the cognac. Something strange had been happening lately, and he couldn’t begin to understand it all. One thing was certain, he didn’t intend to say anything about it, for who would believe him?
* * *
Bitter fury gripped Judith as she hurried into the village. What a fool she’d been not to realize the extent of Verity’s interference, but she’d known it clearly enough when she had stepped from behind those curtains and it was the magistrate’s niece he saw, not Judith Villiers!
The seal’s importance now simply could not be underestimated, but until it had been regained, there was nothing that could be done except keep trying other magic.
Chapter Twelve