Must Have Been The Moonlight

by Melody Thomas

  The door shut behind her, and Michael whirled a chair, tipping it against the latch.

  “That girl liked you. Why don’t you just go with her?”

  “Don’t tempt me.” He walked to the window, next to Brianna, and edged aside the curtain to look outside. “For all the tender affection we share, I have no doubt the company will be warmer.”

  “You’re insufferable, Michael.”

  “And you are the very soul of a gentle and loving wife, who holds no qualm in lying to her husband.”

  “You knew what I was when you married me.”

  “Which is why you are not accompanying me to London, sweet.”

  He eased out of his coat and laid it on the table. Then, fighting for control, he dropped the amulet atop the sleeve before turning to face his wife. He held the passenger manifest in his hand. Unbelievably she had secured the list.

  At first she just returned his stare. Then he saw the sparkling brilliance of her eyes beneath her hood before she turned away from him. She knew damn well, what the amulet meant. He wanted to shake her, press her skull between his hands and force sense into her brain. “You should not have been going through this alone.”

  “You’ll need to telegraph Christopher,” she instructed him.

  “I know what I have to do. Your brother didn’t send his wife back without arranging some security at his estate.” He couldn’t believe that she would dictate to him his bloody responsibility.

  “You opened my mail. Why didn’t you just confront me?”

  “I tried, and listened to you babble about Smith being your jeweler. Even if you were going to meet him in a secret assignation to pick up another ring, I didn’t believe that you would be foolish enough to ride here alone. But I should have known you better than that.” He dropped the list on the table. “Do you really believe Finley is an acquaintance of your brother?”

  “My brother didn’t always lead such a sterling life. There are things in his past that he’ll never tell anyone, not even Alex. Trust me, if Finley wanted to get rich, he could have just taken the amulet. It’s probably worth more than he could get for me or you, at least until the summer revenues start refilling the family coffers.”

  Her knowledge of Aldbury finances surprised him. But he wasn’t in the mood to be impressed with his young wife.

  Hell, he was cold, and set about lighting the stove. The coals caught and began to heat.

  “You’re going back with Finley and Smith, aren’t you?” She’d sat down on the bed and burrowed into her cloak. “You want to know more about that warehouse.”

  “I have four men accompanying you back to Aldbury Park.”

  “And the amulet?”

  “Belongs in the hands of the authorities.”

  “To authorities who presumed you were guilty of that which you’d been charged in Cairo. Where were they in defense of you against Omar?” Her voice became passionate. “Where were your precious authorities when I watched you get shot down in broad daylight? When you were alone fighting for your life? You already suspect someone followed us back from Cairo. The amulet is evil. And it’s mine to destroy.”

  “Tell me, Brianna,” he knelt on one knee, so close beside her he could smell the roses in her hair, “that is, if you are capable of honesty in this matter. Do you really believe getting rid of the amulet will make this problem go away?”

  “I don’t know.” She dropped her head into her hands. “If you had known about the amulet that afternoon, would it have made a difference?”

  Michael sat next to her, his thigh touching hers. He was bothered that he possessed no memory of the actual event. He remembered nothing until he’d awakened to find his grandmother sitting next to the bed. Maybe had he known about the amulet, he would have seen the threat before he’d allowed the danger to come so close. “It doesn’t matter.” He stared down at his hands. “Your feelings and mine at this point are irrelevant.”

  “What are your feelings, Michael?”

  He looked at his wife, surrounded by shadows, and felt as if someone had hit him in the gut. Then as if drawn by a will stronger than his own, he pulled her into his lap. “I’m not accustomed to others managing my affairs and problems,

  Brianna.” He tipped her chin, forcing her to look up at him. What had begun that morning in Cairo when he’d let her oversleep had now opened a gaping chasm in his feelings. He hadn’t understood himself around her then any more than he understood his actions now. Tonight had proven his vulnerability, and had scared him.

  She hadn’t seen the atrocities done to Pritchards and the others on that caravan. Nor had anyone ever found the women and children who had disappeared, or the hundreds more who vanished forever in the desert.

  He tried to think sanely, while the different factions of his heart warred inside him. He was angry that she’d come out here by herself. That she undertook an investigation that was too bloody dangerous and out of her realm of experience, risking her life.

  “It was never my intent to lie to you, Michael.”

  “Yet, you had so little respect for my name that you decided to appear here alone regardless of the physical danger to you. Regardless of social impropriety? What consequence is a lie on top of that, Brianna?”

  “Oh!” She wriggled in his lap, to get free, but he held her tight. “Do not take the moral high ground with me, Ravenspur! Mr. Don’t-Bother-Me-With-Rules, who waggled a gun at a sheikh and incited an international incident. For your information, since I’ve been at Aldbury I’ve been poked and prodded by a dozen modistes, endured etiquette lessons, frogs in my shoes, frogs in my bath, rude servants, all in the name of Aldbury honor. Were I a man, you would welcome my aid as a course of loyalty and friendship.”

  Her voice was filled with hurt, and he was truly sorry about the frogs, but there was little he could do about any of that. “Except you are not a man. You’re my wife. I’m not willing to see you die, certainly not in defense of me.” Tipping her chin, he forced her to look at him. “And furthermore, if you ever engage in the manner of folly you have today, I’ll lock you in your room to rusticate until your hair grows gray.”

  “You can’t lock me in my room. That’s…illegal!”

  “Not if I’m in there with you.”

  Brianna weighed the warning in his eyes, not because she feared acting on her passions, but because she knew instinctively that he would do exactly as he promised. “You are such a bastard, Michael.”

  “You knew what I was when you climbed over your balcony and decided to pay me a visit in the middle of the night. Though I may be guilty of influencing the outcome that day, you, sweet, were guilty of executing the sin. I’d say that we both made our proverbial bed.”

  They stared at each other, suspended in time, the wind whipping against the window. His fingers at her nape held her.

  He was aware of her nails digging into his coat. Then slowly, haltingly, Michael lowered his lips to hers.

  He kissed her. Each thrust of his tongue, seeking hers, deepened his foray inside the hot shelter of her mouth.

  He felt her bottom pressed against him, tasted the texture of her mouth, felt the pattern of her fingers clinging to his arms, and inhaled the scent of her presence. She was his air to breathe, and as he kissed her, he sought fervently for what he wanted to find inside her, finally pulling from her sweet lips the soft sound of his name.

  Without breaking the kiss, Michael reached up to dim the lamp, returning his hand to cup the fullness of her breast, bounty in his palm. She turned her head, but he followed, capturing her lips, and offering no apology for his behavior, brought her down on the mattress.

  They were fully clothed, though he’d deftly managed to unlace her bodice and the corset beneath. Her cloak fell away and she suddenly came up for breath, pressing both hands against his chest as if suffocating. Her startled eyes were wide. “There are those,” she gasped, still entangled within his arms, “who take their newfound power too much to heart. I would not let your station
rule your lust.”

  “Ah, my fey wife speaks.” His mouth burned a knowing path to her throat. “A moment ago I was sure that your tongue was incapable of such mundane work as framing words.” He observed her, unmistakable heat in his eyes. “We can survive the next few hours in some manner of conjugal harmony or you can resent me and freeze. It’s up to you.”

  “Why are you behaving like this?”

  Holding himself up on his elbow, he stilled her fight with his arm. Tension charged the air between them. He sensed the battle inside her, no less fierce than the one he waged with himself and, watching her turn her face away, he recognized a helplessness he’d not felt before.

  Yet, he was glad she was distraught, for she had shown so little fear and emotion earlier, she’d become a danger to herself. “You fight for everyone else, Brianna. With no thought to yourself.”

  Her dark hair fanned the mattress. “You don’t understand—”

  “I do understand. More than anyone in this world, I understand. You have to trust me to finish this. Do you trust me?”

  His hands moved to caress her. She grabbed his fingers.

  “Then you still defiantly hope to carry the day. You seek…what, Brianna?

  She tried to turn her face away from his probing gaze and Michael felt a slow burning fury—or frustration to reach her. He had her pulled flush against him. He could feel the wild pounding of her heart.

  “If it’s your pride that taunts you, then count this coup lost by force.”

  Again he lowered his mouth to hers. He held her and kissed her. Her lips trembled, but her fingers relaxed. He was aware of the supple contrast of her body to each sinew and tendon of his, of the smell of peat, the scent of roses, his own lust. Her plaintive sigh touched her ears. He caught her lips and his hunger coiled low in his abdomen to knot with his need. The heat gathered in his groin and between her legs where he’d set his hand.

  Let her be angry with him. He reached between them and freed himself. At least it was passion equal to his. He slid one finger into the depth of her, parting her, exploring the musky clefts and shallow dips. Touching her was like touching fire. He groaned into her mouth. Her palms slid upward into his hair. For a moment his own limbs seemed weighted as she responded, taking from him the fight he waged. She pressed her forehead against his, then looked down at her limbs entwined with his, bringing his gaze to hers. “You are so beautiful,” she said.

  Even in the dimness her gaze was a startling blue. Brianna’s eyes held his and did not turn away. The rhythm of her movements escalated his, and she cradled his face between her hands, and kissed his mouth. He had thought it impossible to feel more than he did. Then the power surrounding them took him, rushed over him until he couldn’t breathe within the roaring tempest, and, shoving his fingers into her hair, at last he groaned and poured himself into her.

  Brianna opened her eyes. Her clothes still in disarray, she lay on her side beneath a blanket, her arm tucked beneath her head. Michael sat on a chair beside the bed. Already dressed, he was wearing his heavy coat, and leaning with his elbows on his knees as he watched her sleep.

  Her cheeks flushed, she felt the corners of her mouth tilt. “What are you thinking?” she asked.

  A shadow cooled the line of his jaw and contrasted with his eyes. She was reminded of the first time she’d ever seen him—tall and dangerous, in his long hooded robe as she’d met the soft glitter of those silver eyes. “I’m thinking that you and I are finished with separate chambers,” he said. “It’s time that you occupied yourself with your duty to me as my wife.”

  Brianna sat up in bed. After a moment of struggling with her stays, she startled as he moved her hands aside and performed the feminine task with annoying familiarity and speed.

  “If I can undo them, the least I can do is repair the damage before I go on my way.”

  Brianna slapped his hands away and stumbled out of bed. “You are so cavalier,” she said in absolute confusion. “How can I even feel anything for you at the moment?”

  He caught her hand and pulled her into his arms. She dared not meet the diamond sharpness of his gaze, but he tipped her chin and she was left wondering if she did not love him completely. Then he turned her around and finished hooking her gown. “Will you miss me then?”

  “Probably not.”

  He set her cloak on her shoulders and gently tended to the clasps. “That’s good because I won’t miss you either.” His arms flexed against the fine wool of his coat as he bent and gave her a kiss that curled her toes.

  Later, huddled in her cloak, Brianna listened to Michael’s voice outside the carriage as he spoke to the driver. The sun had set and the wind had died. Then the coach jerked forward in a clamor of chains and harnesses and she caught herself. Michael remained a lone figure in the street. Pressing against the window, she watched the gently falling snow swallow her husband’s dark form.

  Chapter 21

  As she had every morning for the past two weeks, Brianna awakened to the dreary sound of rain on her window and the undaunted patter of Gracie moving around in her dressing room. Only this morning a scream rent the air and Brianna shot straight up in bed. A tray crashed to the floor. Heart slamming against her ribs, wearing a diaphanous gown worthy of Aphrodite, Brianna raced through her dressing room into the salon before she’d remembered to grab her derringer. Gracie stood over the contents of a shattered teapot, steam still rising from the floor, and a lone frog calmly hopping its way toward the door.

  “It touched my shoe, mum,” Gracie fretted, twining her fingers. “Startled the life out of me.”

  A sigh of relief escaped from Brianna’s mouth. After rescuing the newspaper from the floor, she went to the wall and rang the bell, but a footman had already reached her door. Winded, he straightened to present himself.

  She calmly handed the frog to him. “Please return him to the greenhouse.”

  “Be grateful it isn’t summer or you’d have had worse, mum,” he said. “Lady Amber ’as gone through a dozen governesses with what she finds in that place.”

  Coupled with the prickly pinecones placed in Brianna’s bed a week ago, the poor frog hardly merited the drama. But Gracie was old, and Brianna had to take into account the possibility of heart failure should these incidents continue.

  “And please send up someone to clean this mess.” Brianna shut the door.

  “You shouldn’t have taken her ball, mum,” Gracie fretted.

  “She was throwing it against my bedroom window.”

  Lady Caroline had withdrawn to London after her hospital benefit and would not be back for another week. Though the baby had gone with her mother, Amber Catherine had not, as attested to the incident that morning and the feline that curled around Brianna’s feet.

  Smiling to herself, Brianna picked up the cat and scratched behind its ears. He was a friendly orange tom with huge rolling purrs. They’d become close friends, mostly owing to a healthy stash of catnip Brianna carried around with her these days. She’d made sure that Amber’s cat followed her everywhere.

  Walking to her desk, Brianna spread out the paper. Every day she scoured the various London dailies for any news of possible interest. She’d waited for letters. But Michael hadn’t written.

  Alex had scribed numerous posts and mentioned that he’d been to see her and had spoken with Charles Cross. Caroline had written to Amber. Brianna noted that she was staying at her brother’s Grosvenor Square residence. But from Michael, she’d heard nothing.

  The man who had taken such wicked delight in tormenting her in Cairo, who had encouraged her independence, defied her brother, and welcomed her boldness, now didn’t even seem to remember that he had a wife. She wanted to hate him at that moment. She wanted to hate him for taking away her independence, for his warmth, and for all the ways he’d insinuated himself into her heart. She wondered why she tortured herself over him at all.

  Brianna dressed and went downstairs. The library was the one place in the house that
she’d found refuge since living at Aldbury Park. The books she’d been reading ranged from law to various legal cases ultimately presided over by the House of Lords. Because Michael would soon be taking his seat in parliament, she’d found such works fascinating.

  But that morning after breakfast, Brianna merely propped her chin in her hand and stared out the large glass windows. As usual, she’d been the only one in attendance at her meal. An entire sennight of mornings had dawned cold, the skies bleak, the very air she breathed a chilly gray. Or at least it seemed that way as she stirred her tea and mentally went over her plans for the day. She was too busy to miss Michael.

  It wasn’t until she’d read the society column two days later and saw the Duke of Ravenspur mentioned prominently as a guest at Lord and Lady Bedford’s spring soiree that Brianna decided not to read the paper anymore. Steeling herself, she closed the Times and left the room.

  “My apologies, your Grace. But his grace’s orders were very explicit.” The stable master wiped his hands on a rag before hanging it on the stall door. He wore mucking boots that went to his knees.

  Brianna laid her gloved hand on the mare’s long nose. She wore a simple blue muslin gown beneath her cloak. “I didn’t come here to ride, Mr. Freeman. Do not worry. I have no doubt the price of your disobedience to my husband’s royal edict.”

  Once, that morning, she’d been prepared to fly to London. She wanted to ride to him wherever he was. For what? She wondered why she tortured herself at all. If Michael had wanted her there, he’d have brought her.

  Drawing in a breath, Brianna lowered her hand from the mare. “Your granddaughter didn’t show up this morning at the lodge. Is she all right?”

  “Don’t you know? The countess told everyone yesterday that if anyone returned to the lodge, she would have them all arrested for trespassing. I’m sorry, your Grace. I thought you knew.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  Once back at the house, Brianna handed off her cloak and gloves to the footman and, holding her skirts, swept up the stairs. She had once cherished the hope that she and her mother-in-law could be close, but that had ended her first week at Aldbury.