Wicked, Sinful Nights

by Julia Latham

  Robert smiled. “Then you’ve answered all my questions.”

  Sir Daniel quickly rose, then hesitated. “I know you have probably not heard this before…people are always fearful, but…thank you for what you’re doing to right a terrible crime.”

  Robert’s smile faded. “You are welcome.”

  Sir Daniel nodded, then hurried out of the solar, shutting the door behind him.

  Sarah stared at Robert. He arched an eyebrow, as if waiting for her to speak.

  She couldn’t help smiling at the patience he displayed toward her. “Why did you bring me with you on something so private as investigating Sir Daniel’s possible motive for a murder?”

  “His unease and panic were obvious. I assumed that your presence alone could reassure him. I was right. And remember”—he added before she could speak—“you did agree to assist me whenever I need you.”

  “Aye, I did,” she said, summoning her bravery to walk toward him.

  His eyebrows lifted, but he didn’t move, as if he’d block her way. Instead she stopped and looked at the ledger still spread out on the table.

  “Sir Daniel was always well trusted by Lord Drayton,” she mused, running a finger down the meticulous columns. The sun was going down beyond the windows, but she could still see well enough.

  “I had heard that, but I had to be certain.”

  “He is a man beyond middle age, and he has been here his entire life, with never a complaint against him.”

  “I have heard that the Drayton estates are some of the most profitable in the land,” Robert said slowly. “’Twould be easy to take some for himself.”

  “He has always been well paid, and Sir Anthony continued the tradition—or so I was told.”

  She still stood too close to him, feeling bold, telling herself that she had to be. If she didn’t stand up for herself, if she looked at all hesitant, he would think her guilty.

  “’Tis interesting to hear that Sir Anthony changed nothing of the financial arrangements once he became guardian,” Robert said.

  She continued to look up at him calmly. “Why should he? This is all Francis’s now. And he and Lord Drayton consulted on everything. I imagine nothing in our finances was a surprise to him.”

  Robert only nodded. For a moment, his eyes seemed unfocused, as if he saw something else, thought of something else. Was he putting more of the pieces together in that mind of his? Where did she fit into the puzzle of this crime?

  The shadows in the room had lengthened, and it had grown darker, more intimate without candlelight.

  Then suddenly those eyes sharpened on her, where she still stood too close. Something in them flared to life, invoking a matching response of heat inside her.

  She took a deep breath, not understanding what she was feeling, but wanting to. They remained silent, still, too close, as his gaze centered on her mouth.

  God Above, she thought, he wanted to kiss her.

  She didn’t know where that thought came from; no man had ever looked at her like this, with a longing hunger, as if only her kiss could satisfy him.

  It was preposterous.

  It was seductive.

  She told herself he had looked at many women this way, but somehow his past didn’t seem to matter. They were alone; there was no one else for whom he needed to pretend a flirtation. This sudden tension had gone beyond flirtation.

  And then another idea struck her—did he have a weakness for her? Was this…emotion…that sparked between them a vulnerability in Sir Robert Burcot?

  Vulnerability? Why was she thinking such things? He thought she could be a murderer!

  But she didn’t move away, and neither did he. He didn’t reach to touch her. Instead she watched his mouth, and those eyes that looked suddenly darker, smokier. He wasn’t smiling; he was more serious and intent than she’d ever seen him.

  And that captivated her, left her feeling hesitant, uncertain, trembling. She could feel the warmth of him, heard the sound of his quick breathing, which so matched her own. Did his heart sound like it would beat from his chest, as hers did?

  “I should go,” he whispered, his voice low and husky.

  Before he could leave her, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. It was like nothing she’d ever experienced, not in any dream. Though at first he hesitated, tense, she drew a response from him as their lips lingered and teased. They still touched nowhere else, and she ached to lean against him, found herself arching, wished he would hold her—

  Then he lifted his head, breaking the kiss. She simply stared wide-eyed at him, her fingers twisted together to keep from pulling him back. Warmth had swept from the crown of her forehead clear to her toes, intensifying deep in her belly. Oh, this was desire, something she’d wanted desperately from her husband early in their marriage, but never had.

  She lifted her hand toward his face and he did nothing as her fingers touched his cheek. A single tremor moved through him, she realized with shock, unable to imagine what that meant.

  “We shouldn’t be doing this,” he rasped.

  “We should stop.” Her voice didn’t sound her own. With her eyes closed, she swayed in this realm of heady passion, this need, this ache.

  How could these sensations be true? They had only just met—and he was at Drayton Hall for such a dark, ugly reason.

  Then he stepped away from her, breaking the spell.

  Embarrassed by her own boldness, she reached to close the ledger, relieved her hands weren’t trembling. She struggled to speak in a normal tone. “Are you done with this, Robert?”

  He nodded, but for a verbose man, he said nothing.

  Even walking away from him to return the ledger was a difficult thing to do. When she bent over the coffer, she thought he made a sound, but when she looked over her shoulder, she only saw him in profile, his hand flat against the table, his body rigid.

  “Did you say something?” she asked too breathlessly.

  He shook his head.

  Again, no words.

  “We should go,” she said.

  Together they left the lord’s solar, not speaking. They walked down the corridor, moving in and out of the torchlight. They passed a maidservant, who bobbed a quick, hesitant curtsy to Robert even as she scurried away.

  For a moment Sarah wanted to tease him, but things were different now between them. The ground had shifted, and she had to think about what it meant in their relationship—and what it could mean for her future.

  What must he be thinking of her brazen behavior?

  Chapter 12

  Robert needed another tankard of ale, but he knew his limits. He had to keep a clear head in the great hall, as the evening wound down after supper. Walter was watching him too closely, and it took everything in him to appear his usual cheerful self.

  What had happened when he’d been alone in that darkening chamber with Sarah Audley?

  He knew what lust was—he’d felt it in his youth before even being allowed to see women regularly. He’d felt it when he’d escaped the League at the age of fifteen, and tasted the kisses of an eager dairymaid.

  But this—this had been something altogether different.

  He faced the fire and clenched the now empty tankard in his hand. The heat enveloped him, seared him, and he wished it would sear away every memory of those stolen moments, but they were now emblazoned in his mind.

  He’d always thought lust and desire the same thing, but now he knew better. He desired Sarah with a need that went beyond the simple gratification of the flesh. Oh, but that was a part of it, of course, an urgent, pounding part of it. When he’d seen Chapman dare to put his lips to her cheek, he’d felt almost irrational with outrage, as if Sarah were his. He closed his eyes. Her mouth had been sweet and innocent, not the kiss of an experienced, married woman, but he already knew her marriage had not been normal.

  But that brief, tentative taste had whetted his appetite for more. He wanted to lick a path down her throat, between her breasts, taste the s
cented flesh beneath the under curve. His mind was tormenting him with images of what could have been, what might yet be—

  But only if he gave up everything he thought he wanted in life, if he gave up the League. For wasn’t this their problem with him, the reason they had Walter watching his every move? They thought him a womanizer, an undisciplined libertine. He could at last admit that he felt betrayed by their mistrust. They’d distorted his childhood, yet he still believed in them, wanted to help bring justice to those who deserved it the most.

  He’d known they were wrong about him, knew that he’d just been enjoying himself in London, like any young man freed from the shackles of his past.

  But this—this overwhelming sensation, this need for Sarah, made him realize that he truly didn’t know himself at all. He’d wanted to crush her against him, forget everything they both were, and assuage the need that burned hot inside him. He didn’t want to think of her motives, or whether her hesitant attempt at seduction meant she was truly guilty. None of that could matter as he completed his assignment.

  Was the League right? Would he be unable to control himself in every situation?

  Nay, he would not believe that! He was well trained, and he was dedicated to justice and helping the innocent, the causes of the League that he so believed in.

  He’d simply never met anyone like her before. He would soon be able to accept how he felt and wrestle it into submission. Nothing would change. He clenched his free hand into a fist, gritting his teeth.

  “Sir Robert, are you not standing too close to the fire?”

  Robert whirled around to see Francis staring at him with uncertainty, a pear-shaped lute held awkwardly by both arms against his chest.

  He smiled and stepped back. “Aye, foolish of me to be daydreaming so, my lord. Good of you to remind me.”

  Francis’s expression eased as he held up his lute. “Look what I am learning.”

  Robert took the lute into his hands. “A fine instrument. The ladies at court enjoy it when a gentleman sings to them.”

  “Do you sing to ladies?”

  He smiled, then looked up as he realized they were the focus of more than one pair of eager ears. But not Sarah, who stood sipping a goblet of wine while she spoke to Chapman.

  That dark sensation surfaced again inside him, and this time he recognized it as jealousy. Though he fought it, in a sense he realized he could not totally let it go, for he needed to keep up his flirtation with Sarah before the household. If he paid too much attention to her without flirting, they might all begin to suspect her as much as the League did. He could not have someone else attempting to punish her—taking things too far. Her punishment was his duty.

  “I enjoy singing, Francis,” Robert said, “to whomever wants to listen.”

  “Then sing for me!”

  With a chuckle, he didn’t resist. He held the lute tucked under his arm and began to strum it idly, thinking of the perfect song. He began with an adventure story that a young boy would appreciate. Francis stared enraptured at him, laughing at the hero’s foibles, occasionally staring at Robert’s fingers. One by one, others approached the hearth and began to nod their heads in time with the music. He lifted his voice, let it capture the growing crowd, even as he knew he was trying to lure Sarah’s attention. But she was still deep in conversation with Chapman.

  When the song ended, Francis cried, “Another one, please!”

  The maidservants applauded, and Robert bowed to them as if they were ladies at court. He began another song about a man’s earnest love of a woman, and walked among them, always moving closer and closer to his goal.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Sarah watched Robert meander toward her. It was becoming more difficult to concentrate on Simon’s discussion of the horses he’d trained over the years. She normally enjoyed the topic, but from the beginning, Robert’s voice had tugged at her, taunted her, teased her with its pure baritone. And she’d felt guilty at her reaction, for she’d seen Simon’s impatient glances at Robert.

  She knew Robert had sung for Francis, and the funny lyrics had been perfect for the boy. But the next song was not for a boy, and luckily, the lyrics’ true meaning of physical love was subtle. But all the women present understood and appreciated it, for Robert walked among them, smiling in that wicked way of his. The women watched him with adoration, the men with relief, for when he was wooing women, he wasn’t thinking about his murder investigation. But she was getting to know Robert better, and she didn’t think his mission ever left him. He had a reason for singing, besides enlivening the evening for the women.

  And she was his reason. He may not have meant to kiss her, but he was still going to flirt. He was slowly but surely heading right for her. A frisson of excitement and nervousness chased down her spine as she remembered the subtle power of their intimate connection. The sound of his voice was almost as powerful, smoothly sliding through her mind, almost as physical as his touch. Her body swayed without volition to the melody.

  “Sarah?” Simon said.

  She realized with a start that this was the second time he’d called her name. “Forgive me, Simon. What did you ask?”

  Dismay crossed his features so swiftly she almost didn’t see it.

  “We were speaking of selecting a pony for young Lord Drayton.”

  “Oh, aye, ’tis a fine idea.”

  “We already agreed upon that,” he said dryly. He glanced at Robert, who was now close enough to be obvious in his intentions.

  Sarah should feel embarrassed, sympathetic toward Simon, but somehow she couldn’t. Never in her life had two men tried to win her, even for all the wrong reasons.

  Simon spoke between clenched teeth. “Sir Robert enjoys being the center of attention.”

  “To be fair, Francis did ask him to sing.”

  He said nothing, for now Robert was openly singing the song before her. She didn’t have to hide her pleasure in his attention, for she was supposed to play along with his flirtation.

  Yet even as she smiled and blushed, she felt a rising sense of confliction, wondering if he knew her response was real.

  The crowd behind him parted around one of the chambermaids, who’d begun to dance alone to the music. It was Athelina, who’d responded to Robert from the moment he’d arrived. As if sensing the disturbance behind him, he at last turned around. Athelina lifted her arms in sensual abandonment, and the men murmured low, rumbling approval.

  The crowd began to clap in time to Robert’s lute, and the girl increased her pace, laughing. Robert looked from her to Sarah. Sarah thought he should have the decency to at least appear regretful that his wooing had been interrupted, but he only laughed, shrugging, and continued entertaining everyone in the hall.

  Sarah watched the talented Athelina, almost wishing she herself could still care so little what everyone thought. Once Sarah had been like that, secure in her parents’ love, at ease with her place in the world.

  Athelina did not know how swiftly life could change.

  Robert had long since finished singing when Walter gave him the “’tis time we speak” look. Many had already found their chambers for the night, and the lowliest of the servants wrapped themselves in blankets and lay on the rush-strewn floor near the hearth.

  Sarah had earlier taken Francis up to bed, but she had not come back down, much as Robert wished for it. But perhaps it was a good thing, he thought, as he followed Walter back to their lodgings.

  In the outer chamber, Walter sat down at the table, hands folded in front of him as usual, and waited for Robert to take his seat.

  Robert smiled as he did so. “And what did you do today, Walter?”

  “Are you asking for my report, sir?”

  There was a faint trace of humor in the man’s eyes that made him chuckle. “I am.”

  “I spent most of the day talking to people, learning who have lived here their whole lives, and who are the newcomers.”

  “Are there many of those?”

  Walt
er shook his head. “Surprisingly few. People have been loyal to the Drayton family and remained for generations. Seldom have new servants been necessary. A few stable hands were hired about five years ago, several new farm tenants three years ago, but no one with a reason to kill their lord.”

  Robert arched an eyebrow. “And then there’s the last newcomer, Sarah.”

  “Aye. She’s been here two years now. Apparently she was only skin and bones when she arrived.”

  Robert frowned.

  “Everyone knew of her husband’s death,” Walter continued, “but no one mentioned rumors of murder.”

  “Did you?” he asked stiffly.

  “Nay, I did not.” Walter eyed him. “Did you think I would inflame them all against her?”

  “Of course you would not jeopardize our investigation.”

  The Bladesman nodded, but Robert sensed he’d made a mistake, revealing too much sympathy for Sarah.

  “Had she been ill?” Robert asked.

  “None mentioned it. They all thought she’d fallen on hard times after her husband’s death.”

  “She revealed a bit to me about her life before she came here.”

  “Then your methods are winning her over?”

  If Walter was being sarcastic, he was hiding it well. And how could Robert talk about his methods? They might be working for him in some ways, but against him in others. So he only nodded, then spoke about Sarah’s childhood, her father’s disastrous hand in the marriage contract, and her unhappy marriage.

  “Many reasons to murder her husband,” Walter said thoughtfully.

  “Why? She lost everything when he died.”

  “But if she was as ignorant of the marriage contract as her father, then she didn’t know what the outcome would be. She might have thought she’d be rich and in command of her own destiny.”

  “She said her husband fell from his horse when they were together.”

  “And it sounds like there were no witnesses, if people only believed her guilty of murder but could not swear to it. I have already sent a man to her late husband’s family. We will receive details soon. I also left a report about our progress for the League.”