Swear by Moonlight

by Shirlee Busbee

  Undoing the faded yellow ribbon bound around them, with shaking fingers she opened the first one and read its contents. Her heart sank. It was her letters. She didn't know what to think. Her husband was her blackmailer? It seemed incomprehensible. She looked at him. "Why?"

  Seating himself comfortably beside her, he said, "I wanted you to trust me."

  "You wanted me to trust you?" she exclaimed, her voice rising incredulously. "So you blackmailed me?"

  "Er, no. Your, uh, original blackmailer was that fellow Ellsworth. I, er, stole the letters from him."

  She shook her head, none of it making any sense. Her gaze fixed painfully on his calm blue eyes, she said, "Tell me."

  For the first time, he looked a trifle discomposed. "My part is rather embarrassing and shows what a fool a man my age can be when he falls in love for the first time." He took one of her hands in his and kissed her fingers. "You see I do love you—beyond reason, and I am afraid that where you are concerned I am as vulnerable and foolish as any Nick Ninny." He kissed her fingers again. "Patrick's frequent visits aroused my suspicions." He shook his head at her expression. "No, I was not jealous of him, but I suspected that there was more than just filial affection behind his visits. Your actions only confirmed it—you may not realize it, but you have been obviously worried and anxious of late, distracted—I knew that something was bothering you." He made a face. "I hoped that you would come to me with whatever your problem was—if you will remember I have given you ample opportunity to do just that. But to all my lures, you turned away and turned instead to your son. It was not me, your adoring husband, but your son that you wanted to play knight-errant for you. Now that did make me jealous."

  "You had no cause," she said huskily. "It was just that I—"

  "It was just that you didn't want me to know," he said gruffly. His fingers tightened on hers. "Did you trust me so little?"

  "Oh, it was never that! I was fearful that if you knew that I had not always been so-so-so virtuous that your feelings for me would change."

  He gave a rough laugh. "You little fool! With my past? How could you think I would think any less of you? Haven't you been listening? I adore you! What do I care about some letters you wrote decades ago?"

  A weight lifted from her heart. Her eyes as bright and glowing as a young maid's, she breathed, "Truly?"

  He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. "Truly."

  Her senses spinning, her head resting on his shoulder, she said, "Tell me. Everything."

  "There is not a great deal to tell. Once I became aware that something was amiss, I eavesdropped shamelessly and from the bits and pieces I overheard, I was able to put most of the scheme together. Knowing that you were being blackmailed and that a certain house on Curzon Street seemed to be the blackmailer's place of business, I spent far more nights than I care to remember, lurking in that vicinity, watching and observing the goings-on. I even went so far as to break into the place, but I found nothing there to make me look in a different direction." He sent her a reproachful glance. "Not being privy to the whole side of it, I was left to scramble about on the fringes, hoping that luck would come my way." A pleased expression entered the blue eyes. "And one night recently I was very, very lucky. Like your son, I had discovered that the likely culprit had to have been Thomas Ellsworth. I was considering the best way to approach him, without," he said dryly, "stumbling over Patrick, when to my delight, what should happen, but for Ellsworth to come running right into my very arms. Of course I didn't know it was Ellsworth at the time—it was, I confess, very dark where I was lurking, but when I was suddenly confronted by a furtive fellow who wanted to hide in my alley, I guessed who he might me. Fortunately, I did not have to resort to violence—the silly fellow knocked himself senseless—giving me plenty of time to, er, root about his form. Having seen Patrick and Thea enter the house earlier, as well as Ellsworth shortly thereafter, I was pretty certain who my unexpected visitor might be, and upon searching him I confirmed his identity and discovered an interesting packet." He smiled reminiscently above her head. "I was not even certain what it was that I had found, but I dared not linger for fear that Patrick and Thea might come in pursuit of Ellsworth and stumble across me. It was only when I returned home and had a moment to open the packet that all the answers became clear to me. I must admit that it was a grand piece of luck for me that Ellsworth actually had the letters on him when he bolted into the very alley where I was hiding."

  She twisted around to look up at him. "Why didn't you tell me?"

  He rubbed his nose. "Well, you see, I had this ridiculous notion that I wanted you to come to me, to trust me with the tale—whatever it was. I wanted you to trust me with your troubles." He appeared uncomfortable. "My problem was that I hadn't thought far enough ahead—having finally gotten the damn things and realized what was going on, I didn't know what to do with them."

  "You could have simply destroyed them—my blackmailer would have merely disappeared—ceased to dun me."

  He shook his head. "No, you had to know that they no longer existed, that the blackmailing was over—for good."

  She arched a brow. "So you decided to blackmail me yourself?"

  "Not exactly. I was hoping that you would come to me. But if you didn't, I was simply going to leave the letters at the house for you to find tomorrow night."

  "And the money?"

  A devilish glint lit his eyes. "Oh, I suspect that over the next few months you would have found me lavishing you with the most extravagant gifts."

  "Bought with my own money?" she inquired too sweetly.

  He grinned and nodded. "What else could I have done with the blasted money—I certainly don't need it... as your son discovered when he had my finances investigated."

  Lady Caldecott's mouth fell open. "He had you investigated?"

  He cocked a brow. "You didn't know?" At the vehement shake of her head, the last of his anxieties disappeared. "Well, I must say that is a relief. It worried me that you might have known what he was up to and concurred with his theory that I might be the blackmailer."

  "He never breathed a word to me. That devious wretch! I shall have a thing or two to say to him the next time I see him." Something occurred to her and she frowned. "How did you find out that he had looked into your finances?"

  "My dear, your son may be up to every rig and row in town, but you must remember that I have been around for a much longer time. I had my own sources, and when discreet inquiries were made into my affairs, I was informed of it."

  "I see. Are you angry at his effrontery?"

  He shook his head. "No. And I do not want you to be. He loves you, and he was determined to leave no stone unturned in trying to help you—even if it meant investigating your husband."

  She snorted. "And do you think that it would have made me happy to find out that it was my own husband who was blackmailing me?"

  "I sincerely hope not. But since it is a moot point, I suggest we leave it alone. And I would further suggest that you do not take your son to task for doing the very thing you asked him to do: find out who was blackmailing you."

  "You are probably right." She glanced at him. "Whatever am I going to tell him now? Without the letters Ellsworth has no power over me and there is no reason for Patrick to continue his efforts in my behalf." She smiled. "Besides, he has a wife who will have first call on his time now." She hesitated. "Do you care if I tell him what happened? That you have the letters?"

  "Ah, no. I think it would be better if I spoke with him and explained things." He slanted her a look and, with only a hint of reproach in his voice, added, "After all, I am your husband and as such I should have been the one you came to for help in the first place. Let me at least have the pleasure of putting an end to the affair." He kissed her. "It is my very great honor to serve you—if you will let me."

  "Oh, my dear, I so regret that I did not do so, but..." She glanced away. "But I was so ashamed and embarrassed by the whole incident. To think that someone of
my age and in my position was being blackmailed. And by some foolish letters I had thought destroyed long ago. It was so ugly and horrid that I could not bring myself to tell you." She smiled wryly. "It was your knowing what a fool I'd been that gave Ellsworth power over me—not necessarily the letters."

  A slight flush on her cheeks, she asked, "Er, did you read the letters?"

  He smiled tenderly at her. "Only one and only enough to find out what had caused you such alarm. I did not relish my role of eavesdropper, and even less did I relish reading words that had been meant for another man." His lids drooped, and he flashed her a provocative look. "I must confess that some of what you wrote convinced me that I have been too tame in my lovemaking."

  "Oh, really?" she commented. Putting her arms around his neck, she murmured, "Perhaps you would like to show me precisely what you mean."

  He clasped her to him and kissed her. "Oh, I shall indeed," he muttered. And he did.

  Chapter 17

  As Thea and Patrick raced away from all their well-wishers to the intimacy of their waiting coach, Thea was astonished to realize that dusk was falling. The lamplighters were moving slowly down the streets, and purple shadows were falling. But then she had no time for other thoughts—the vehicle hardly began to move before Patrick urgently pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

  They were both breathing hard when he lifted his head and carefully set her on the velvet seat across from him. Dazed and aroused, feeling as if a soft flame had brushed every inch of her body, Thea sat staring at him. Her breasts and nipples tingled, her skin was flushed and warm, and between her legs she was throbbing and aching. Wide-eyed she continued to stare at him in the gloom of the coach, her half-parted lips red and swollen from his kiss.

  "Don't look at me that way, sweetheart," he murmured, "not unless you want me to finish what we started right here."

  "Well, we are married..." she said breathlessly, only half-teasing.

  "Witch!" Patrick muttered, a carnal glint leaping to his gray eyes. "Don't tempt me too far. I am behaving with exemplary restraint—and only the knowledge that we are not many minutes from home is keeping you safe from a very thorough ravishment."

  The drive was short, but the sexual tension between them was palpable by the time they reached Hamilton Place. Patrick helped her down from the coach and escorted her up the steps into his house.

  Chetham greeted them, and after Patrick had presented his bride to him, the butler bowed low. A smile on his normally frigid features, he said, "It is a pleasure, Madam. I trust that you will be happy here and with the staff. Whenever you are ready, the housekeeper and cook are eager to meet you. They also wish to discuss any changes you might want to institute. Though we have been a bachelor's household, we look forward to the differences that having a lady in residence will bring. We shall serve you well—your wish is ours to provide."

  "Th-thank you," Thea replied, charmed.

  Patrick snorted. "Don't be fooled by his graceful manners. He is an old despot and tries to rule me with an iron hand—he'll do the same to you if you don't watch him." Patrick grinned at the expression that congealed on Chetham's face. "Of course he would rather die than admit to a fondness for me."

  Chetham drew himself up. His expression disdainful, he glanced at Patrick, and said, "If you will follow me, sir. Cook has prepared a celebratory dinner for you and your bride." He coughed behind his hand. "In your rooms upstairs."

  Patrick started to tease him further, but a swift poke in the ribs from Thea and the shake of her head stilled the words on his lips. Patrick grinned and meekly followed his wife and butler up the stairs to his suite of rooms.

  After bowing low once more, Chetham left them at the door to Patrick's rooms. Pushing open the door, Patrick said, "Please come in, Mrs. Blackburne." He kissed the back of her neck, and murmured, "And let me assure you that your husband has every intention of continuing where he left off in the carriage."

  A giggle rose in Thea's throat, only to die when she glanced at him and saw the intent expression in those gray eyes. Patrick did not give her time to think. Instead, he scooped her up in his arms and with swift sure strides carried her into the room, slamming the door shut behind them with one shove of his broad shoulder.

  The room was softly lit by a few candles. The bed with its mulberry and silver bed hangings loomed up from the shadows of the spacious room; opposite the bed stood a fireplace with a pale gray marble mantel. Drapery the same color as the bed hangings graced the narrow windows, and a thick rug in swirling shades of wine and gray lay upon the floor. A small table with a white linen cloth had been set up in one corner; another smaller table nearby held silver trays that contained several covered serving dishes. Three bottles of wine and one of brandy had been left on an oak stool next to the serving table. There were small bouquets of roses and lilies scattered throughout the room.

  Seeing the flowers, Patrick commented, "The flowers are definitely my mother's touch."

  "It was very kind of her," Thea said, her head resting on Patrick's shoulder.

  Slowly setting her to her feet at the side of the high bed, Patrick shook his head. "But a wasted effort I'm afraid." He reached out and plucked loose a curl from her elegant coiffure. His eyes darkened and his voice deepened. "We could be in a bower filled with the most exotic blooms in the world, but I am certain I would be oblivious to them all." He pulled her against him, and his mouth caught hers. His lips moved on hers, his teeth dragging across her lower lip. Thea shuddered and her mouth opened for him. The taste of him filled her mouth as his tongue claimed the wine-sweet darkness she offered. Leisurely, thoroughly he explored her mouth, his tongue a flick of fire against the sensitive surface, stoking the flame already burning within her. His breath harsh and ragged when he finally raised his mouth from hers, he said thickly, "You see there is only one lovely and precious blossom that catches my eye." His lips brushed hers. "You, my sweet. Only you."

  He kissed her again, tipping her backward onto the bed. Piece by piece her beautiful wedding finery was whisked from her ever-increasingly heated flesh. First his hands, then his mouth traveled over her, nibbling, tasting, teasing, and arousing. By the time his own clothes had been ruthlessly dispensed with and her own were scattered across the wine-and-gray carpet, she was in the grip of such powerful hungers that her body was one long, yearning ache.

  Patrick felt the same. Having spent the afternoon in a state of near arousal, finally having Thea's slim, white body where he wanted it, only a brutal hold on his own desires kept him from taking her with all the finesse of a rutting boar. His lips nuzzling her soft pale breasts, he groaned as his rampant staff brushed against her slim thigh, the knowledge that she was his bride, his wife, the most powerful aphrodisiac in the world. Driven by needs as old as time, he touched the crisp, black curls between her legs, seeking the tender flesh they covered. Finding what he sought, he slid his finger deep into the hot, wet depth of her, stroking and thrusting, mimicking the motions of mating.

  A moan was torn from Thea at that first invasion, her hips rising to encourage him, her fingers tightening on his naked shoulders. His tormenting mouth at her nipple coupled with the sweet sensation of his warm, sleekly muscled body half-lying on hers and the explicit rhythm of his hand at the junction of her thighs pushed her to the edge. The sensation that rippled upward through her was so intense, so powerful that her body arched like a tightly strung bow and she cried out in pleasure as a shaft of heat and ecstasy pulsed through her. Stunned by the force and fierce sweetness of her release, she sank back to the bed, feeling as if every bone in her body had turned to hot honey.

  Patrick's head lifted from her breast, and a tight smile crossed his handsome face. Brushing a kiss across her cheek, he muttered, "That is just the beginning, my sweet."

  He kissed her again, his lips hard and demanding, his hands gripping her hips as he shifted and slid between her legs. He rested there several seconds, gently rocking against her, his rigid member sliding ar
ousingly through the thick patch of curls that covered her mound.

  Thea's arms went around his neck and even though gentle waves of pleasure were still washing through her body, she was eager for his full possession. She clasped him near, her legs tangled with his, bringing their bodies closer and closer to the alignment that would give them greatest pleasure. His kisses became more urgent, almost rough in their demand, and his grip on her hips tightened as he positioned her where he wanted and in one stroke buried himself inside of her.

  Thea stiffened, the sensation of being filled by an aroused male still new. For one brief second she felt vulnerable and helpless and then Patrick moved on her, so sweetly, so gently that pleasure blossomed, driving away all emotion but those of wonder and delight... and love.

  Patrick felt that momentary rigidness and guessed its cause. With difficulty he fought the urges of his body and treated her with all the restraint he could muster, but she was so narrow, so hot and slick that he thought he would surely die of pleasure if he had to continue his lazy thrusts much longer. His body demanded a faster pace, the urgency to reach the ecstasy he knew awaited them overpowering.

  The shy flick of Thea's tongue into his mouth and the winding of her legs around his hips were his undoing, smashing the frail hold he had on himself. A muffled groan came from him, and he began to thrust heavily, rapidly into her, his swollen-near-to-bursting shaft delving deeper and deeper with each stroke.

  Thea held him to her, the blunt thrusting of his body into hers pushing her, driving her to a new level of pleasure. At this moment nothing in the world mattered but Patrick; she was oblivious to anything but the mating of their bodies, the achingly sweet pressure of his broad invasion and the hungry, urgent demands of his kiss. The frantic intensity of their joining could not last, and Patrick's big body shuddered as he took them to that heaven known by lovers.