Blood Lust

by Jamie Salsibury

  It wasn’t much of a task, but Katherine was grateful for the older woman’s understanding. They talked for a while, until the girl appeared. They got on well and like her mother, the young woman was more than sympathetic, as were the other servants. By the end of the first hour Katherine had eased the conversation in the direction she wanted.

  “The man who helped me, he said he was here some years back, the night the old duke was murdered. He said he didn’t much approve of the inn’s clientele.”

  The older woman crowed. “I knew it were him, that handsome young squire what came in yesterday. He came once before to see me daughter.”

  Katherine scowled. William hadn’t mentioned this. “He was very gallant,” she said though the words came out a bit more grudgingly than they had been intended. “He risked himself to save me.” the conversation moved forward. Katherine directing them little by little to the night of the old duke’s murder.

  “I think someone here saw what happened that night,” she confided in the others. “I think someone knows the young duke was innocent.”

  The cook’s young daughter looked around, as if to make sure no one could hear, then leaned down close to Katherine’s ear. “I saw it,” she said. “I was only eleven years old, but I saw this man climb the back stairs holding a pistol. I saw him point it through the window and fire. I was only a little girl, but it is something I won’t ever forget.”

  Katherine stood still. Inside her heart was hammering hard. “Did you see who it was?”

  “It was him, the duke of Sussex. Only then he weren’t the duke.”

  Katherine’s knees nearly buckled under her. She dragged in a lungful of air. She had done it, she had found a witness! She turned at the sound of a deep male voice.

  “You’re late,” William bellowed, his expression tight.

  Katherine crossed to where he stood and smiled at his scowling face. “I’m sorry. The hours slipped past faster than I imagined, but I think you’ll agree that the time was well spent.” She was smiling as she reached for his hand and led him into the kitchen.

  “Lord Hunt, there is someone I would like you to meet.” She frowned, fighting a sudden surge of jealousy. “Unless the two of you have met before.”

  They had succeeded. They had succeeded in finding a person who had witnessed the murder. Although the young woman had been but a child at the time, it was one more item William had against his brother.

  Returning to London, William glanced down at the small, sleeping figure propped up against his shoulder. He pulled the lap robe up to her chin and tucked it carefully around her to ward off the chill. In the gray sky, the sun squeezing between the clouds, he could see the dark purple bruises on her face and anger rose inside him. His bloodlust was once again trying to edge its way to the surface. It was getting harder and harder for him to control.

  He knew too well how she must be hurting. He had blamed himself for it, but if she hadn’t come with him, they would have never discovered the young girl who had witnessed the murder. She would never have agreed to testify against his brother.

  As it was, against her mother’s wishes, with Katherine’s gentle persuasion, and his guarantee of her safety, the girl had finally agreed.

  Perhaps she would only have to tell her story to the magistrates. William hoped so. But it eased his mind to know he could count on her, and he believed he could.

  Katherine made a sound in her sleep and snuggled closer. She was small, not much bigger than a child, but she was so much a woman. Even now, her face battered and bruised, her lip cut and swollen, he wanted her with a desperation close to obsession.

  He had tried to stay away from her, to protect her from the lust he always felt when she was near, but so far it had been a losing battle. She was another thing that made his bloodlust simmer beneath his emotions. It was also obvious that she certainly made things easier for him.

  What was he to do with her now? William wasn’t really sure. By the time they returned to London, the papers would be ready for the release of Katherine’s dowry. She would have the money she needed, and he had enough evidence to confront Jane Roberts.

  He should move out of her house, get away from her before he gave in to his lust again. But staying with Katherine had proved to be the perfect cover. Through Katherine and Damien, he could follow Benjamin’s moves. And living in her house, he could keep an eye on her, as he had intended from the start. He didn’t want to see her hurt again.

  William decided he would stay. His body was already clenching to think of the nights he would have to spend in the room next to hers. It wouldn’t be for long, he told himself. In a few more weeks, his goal would be attained, and his time with Katherine would be at an end.

  Candlelight flickered on the silk walls of Jane’s bedchamber. The massive gilt canopied bed, had been turned back in anticipation of hi arrival.

  Benjamin almost smiled. The woman was ridiculously transparent. Jane knew he had money again, vast sums of it at his disposal, and she wanted to win back his favor.

  “It’s been far too long, your grace.” The low seductive voice came from the doorway of her dressing room at the opposite end of her bedchamber. “Benjamin, I’ve missed you, darling.”

  She was wearing a sheer rose nightgown, a shade darker than the silk walls of her bedchamber. It set off the paleness of her skin, the darkness of her hair, her succulent figure, and Benjamin began to grow hard.

  Though he schooled his lust not to show, inwardly he admired her efforts and how skillfully she used them to gain the desired effect. He was tired of his insipid, unresponsive wife. He was glad she had gone back to her country house, his house now, he corrected. Besides that, Jane had always been a phenomenon in bed.

  He arched a brow in her direction. “What’s the matter, my love, has your voracious appetite consumed the others?”

  Her red lips drew together in a soft seductive pout. “You hurt me, your grace.” She came toward him, a vision in her sheer, flowing gown, her breasts nearly spilling from the bodice. The sight of them made his shaft begin to throb.

  “Even if it were true,” she continued, “I do not remember it ever being so with you.”

  Benjamin laughed. “Such flattery, my dear. The likes of it should not go unrewarded.” He moved toward her, meeting her at the foot of the bed, drawing her into his arms. He didn’t bother to kiss her, just cupped each of her breasts and began to unbraid the nipples Jane gasped as he harshly tweaked the ends.

  Her breathing quickened. She had always enjoyed rough play. Jane smiled as she helped him remove his silver brocade waistcoat. He tossed it aside, then bent and kissed the smooth white skin at the base of her throat. The hands he placed on her shoulders urged her down on her knees and Jane instantly complied. She freed him, then smiled with satisfaction at the stiffness of his arousal.

  “How shall I please your grace?” Her smile was lurid, full of promise. Her slender hand stroked up and down his sex. “I believe I know just the way.”

  Benjamin groaned as she took him into her mouth, her soft lips closing around him. Pleasure coursed through him at the feel of her tongue skimming over his rigid flesh. She wanted money. She would do whatever it took to ensure she got it. Still, she meant to end their love play in the simplest, most expedient manner.

  He didn’t intend to make it so easy.

  Grabbing a handful of her hair, he pulled her away from his arousal, then began to remove the balance of his clothes. “We’ve all night my dear. There is really no hurry, is there?”

  He wondered which of her lovers she intended to meet after she had finished with him.

  “No hurry at all, your grace.”

  “Get on the bed,” he commanded and Jane immediately obeyed. Her mood was changing. Her eyes beginning to gleam. She had sensed his anger and she knew what it meant. He would take her roughly, perhaps even cruelly. Her reluctance had turned to anticipation.

  “Turn over on your stomach,” he told her, climbing up on the bed
beside her. Rolling up a pillow, he stuffed it beneath her hips with a cool, malicious smile. He would take her Greek style. Jane never much favored that.

  Satisfaction at the thought made his shaft rise up even more. Jane was conniving to get her hands on more of his money. All she would get was a good hard swiving, some aches and some bruises. He imagined it would be the last time she welcomed him into her bed.

  A footman busied himself removing the breakfast dishes from the linen draped table in front of them. Outside, a storm had begun to brew, thick clouds settling in, a heavy mist distorting the view of flowers blooming out in the garden.

  “Friday is Sir Stanwick’s funeral,” Katherine said to William, who sat at the head of the long polished table. Thomas had eaten earlier and retired to the study to read. “Do you think Elizabeth will go?”

  “I hope not. Stanton will be hard-pressed to protect her if Benjamin demands she return with him to the city.”

  “Poor Elizabeth.”

  “True, that she is, married to the likes of my murderous brother. Perhaps she has found a champion in Stanton. For her sake, I hope so.”

  “What will they do?”

  “It’s hard to guess. If she is serious about ending her marriage, she can try to obtain some sort of dissolution. Unfortunately if, by some miracle, she should succeed, she would be a ruined woman. It seems unlikely that Stanton would offer marriage. If he did, society would shun him as well. At any rate, with the power Benjamin commands as duke, odds are, such an action would never be granted.”

  “You are saying there is no hope for them?”

  He smiled at her. “If I am successful in my endeavors, there is every hope for them. However, inadvertently, their destiny is now tied to mine. If Benjamin is proved guilty of my father’s murder, he’ll lose everything, perhaps even his life. Under those circumstances, if she isn’t left a widow, an annulment would undoubtedly be granted. If I fail, most likely I’ll be dead. Elizabeth would have to flee the country in order to escape him.”

  Katherine said nothing. “When will you speak to Jane?”

  “I’m not certain. I have to be absolutely sure I can force her to tell the truth. If instead she should go to Benjamin, tell him I’m still alive, he’ll do everything in his power to see I don’t stay that way for long.”

  Katherine could feel her stomach sink. She made no comment. William couldn’t go to Jane until he was certain how she would respond. But Katherine could. Only that morning, she had sent a note to her asking if they might not reschedule their tea. A note had arrived in return, inviting her to come that very afternoon.

  The bruises she still had from her encounter at the inn were nearly faded. She could disguise the faint yellow tint that remained with a bit of rice powder, as she had been doing.

  At two o’clock, she would join Jane at her town house. Katherine would use the time to try and decipher the way the wind was blowing between Benjamin and her. With the duke’s recent marriage, and the death of his wealthy father-in-law, the subject would be an easy one to broach.

  “Perhaps I could speak to her,” Katherine said just to test the waters. “We’ve formed a tentative friendship. Perhaps, I could discover. . .”

  “No,” he snapped. “I do not want you anywhere near that woman. It’s true she feels not the slightest qualm about murder. God only knows what else she might be capable of doing.”

  An uneasy shiver ran through her. The woman was dangerous, of that there was no doubt.

  “Stay away from her,” William repeated. “When the time is right, I’ll take care of her myself.”

  “Perhaps you look forward to the meeting. Perhaps you still find her attractive.” She knew he had loved her once.

  “I despise the woman. Beauty means little when it is mired so deeply in evil. When I think of Jane Roberts, I feel an overwhelming urge to wrap my hands around her neck.”

  He slammed his newspaper down on the table.

  William studied her for a moment, then started back reading his paper, his eyes mostly hidden beneath the clear glass lenses he wore perched up on his fine straight nose. Noticing the brooding scowl that still darkened his features, she shoved back her chair, rounded the table, and walked up behind him. When she slid her arms around his neck, bent and pressed a soft kiss on his cheek, his startled gaze swung to her face.

  “Do not worry, my lord. One way or another, we will find a way to convince her. Soon, the whole of England will know you are innocent of any wrongdoing.”

  He gently unwound himself from her hold, his grip implacable, though he did not hurt her. “Hardly that, Katherine. I am guilty of more misdeeds than I wish to recall. My father’s murder, however, is not among them.”

  He picked up the paper and rose to his feet. “Now, if you will excuse me, I am off to see Damien. I won’t be home until late. Don’t bother to wait supper. I’ll get something to eat while I am out.”

  Katherine watched his retreating figure as he walked across the room and out the door. He’d been polite but distant ever since their return from the inn. She missed the hours they had spent together, the comfort and warmth of sleeping beside him as she had that night at the inn.

  Katherine sighed into the quiet of the empty room, lonely in a way she had never been. William was determined to avoid her, but today it was just as well. She had a date with Jane Roberts. Perhaps she could learn something that would be of help.

  Chapter Eighteen

  William ascended the steps into the carriage Damien had provided for his use while he was in London. He settled himself into the seat and leaned back.

  His meeting with Damien had ended. They had gone over all the evidence they had collected. The word of a young woman, who had been a frightened child at the time of the murder, the written statement of a killer, and the financial agreement between his brother and Jane Roberts, the duchess of Cromwell was not nearly enough evidence to convict the reigning duke of Sussex of his own father’s murder.

  William, brooding over the situation, knowing what he needed was a credible witness.

  What they needed was Jane Roberts. They needed her to tell the truth.

  It was risky, to approach her, but Jane was the key and time was running out. There was no other choice. Damien’s place wasn’t far from her house, so he ordered the driver to head in that direction. Tension rippled through him. What he planned was dangerous, but in order to clear his name, he would have to take that chance. Somehow he would have to convince her that he had enough evidence to convict her and Benjamin of the murder.

  The carriage rolled on toward its destination. William watched without seeing the city creep past. It wasn’t until he arrived at his destination that he came out of his stupor. He ordered the coachman to turn down the alley near the rear of the house.

  “Wait for me here,” he told the driver. “If someone comes, go around the block and I’ll meet you on the street at the south entrance to the alley.”

  He would approach the house through the servant’s entrance. He didn’t care if the driver thought it odd. He wasn’t about to give the woman notice he was coming. His resurrection from the grave would arrive with the same amount of warning he had had of her treachery and betrayal.

  Moving silently, making his way toward the back of the house, he skirted the garden and headed for the small door and silently stepped inside. He paused to listen for the sound of footsteps.

  No noises. No servants roamed around. William remembered it was Jane’s custom to dispense with unnecessary help when she anticipated some sort of intimate liaison. He wondered whom she awaited now, and hoped her paramour wasn’t already upstairs.

  Voices traveled along the corridor leading down to the kitchen, but the stairs leading up were deserted. Making his way along the passage to her second story, he paused outside to listen, then quietly walked in.

  He remembered her extravagant tastes, but not the clutter. There were dozens of ornate vases, snuff boxes, feather work, clocks.

 
; Apparently the lady’s penchant for expensive items had grown in proportion to her sexual appetites, which over the past years were rumored to have risen to unthinkable extremes.

  Quietly crossing the room, his footsteps silenced by the thick Belgian carpet, he made his way toward the bedchamber. He stopped at the door, but upon hearing no voices or movement, pulled it open and walked in.

  A soft gasp alerted him to the presence of a female, and he turned toward the sound. Jane was seated at a mahogany dressing table beside the door to her marble floored dressing room.

  Her eyes took in his plain, but well-tailored clothing then began a keen appraisal of him. She hadn’t realized yet who he was.

  “What are you doing in here? Who gave you permission to enter my room?” She was gowned far more simply than he would have imagined, in a yellow taffeta day dress, something she might wear to a ladies tea. But her hair fell loose around her shoulders and her breasts nearly spilled from the top of her gown. He wondered again who she was expecting.

  He smiled dourly. “Hello, Jane.”

  Her eyes swung to his, clashed and held steadfast with his. She rose from her dressing stool as he walked closer. “William! My dear God, is it really you? That is impossible.”

  He wasn’t wearing the glasses, no wig hid his hair. He knew she would know him. He wanted her to know who he was. He drew himself up to his full height, taller and heavier than he had been the last time she had seen him. Intimidation was his game, and he had learned to play it well.

  His eyes remained locked on her, cold and dark with determination. “It’s been a very long time, Jane.”

  “It is you!”

  The smile on his face, twisted, became almost brutal. “I’m afraid so, my love.”

  Jane shrank away from him, her eyes filled with terror as she watched him. She turned and tried to scurry past, but he caught her arm, stopping her before she could leave. With a firm grip on her shoulders, he forced her against the wall.