Come the Night (The Dangerous Delameres - Book 1)

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Come the Night (The Dangerous Delameres - Book 1) Page 29

by Skye, Christina


  She wrapped her legs around him, taking all, holding firm, her body convulsed in pleasure anew.

  And her eyes, Luc could have sworn, flashed solid silver at the crest of her passion.

  ~ ~ ~

  Down the hill Tinker threw his arm over Bram’s shoulders. “Told you she’d go up to him.”

  “And I told you she wouldn’t come back down if she did.” Bram frowned suddenly. Beside him Cromwell gave an expectant bark. “But what are they doing up there, Tinker?”

  The old man’s eyes seemed to narrow on the high fields. He smiled faintly, then spun Bram about and set out for the path to the cottage. “That’s quite enough questions for you tonight, boy. Off to bed with you. And take that great flea-bitten creature with you.”

  Cromwell thumped his tail happily, hearing his name mentioned.

  “Come along, Cromwell. No one seems to want us about.” Bram sighed, stroking the sheepdog’s head.

  It was really most peculiar how adults behaved, snapping one minute and beaming the next. Perhaps this stuff of growing up was going to be more tricky than he’d thought.

  ~ 30 ~

  “Why didn’t you say good-bye?”

  They lay entwined, Silver’s hair an auburn cloud across Luc’s chest, her hands nestled in his.

  “Because my wound was better.” Silver touched his face gently. “And you’d made it very clear that you wanted me gone.”

  “It was the last thing I wanted, but there seemed no other choice,” Luc said grimly. “You know I have nothing to offer you, Sunbeam.”

  “I need nothing more than this.” Silver traced the faint scar above Luc’s full, sensual lip. “You helped me save Lavender Close. What more could I ask of you?”

  The scent of late spring was all around them, clinging to the growing flowers and newly turned earth as Silver pushed Luc down onto the soft grass.

  He retaliated by planting tiny, heated kisses over her shoulders and neck until she wanted to scream with pleasure. But there were questions that had to be asked first. “Tell me about this man you were following, Luc.” She toyed with a strand of his hair, her eyes thoughtful.

  Luc frowned. “Later.”

  “Now.”

  “First pistols, then rapiers, now orders. Very well, hellion, I shall tell you.” He stared down at her, his eyes hard. “I must find this man. I’ve tasted hell because of him. He sent me and countless others to Algiers without a shred of remorse and when I escaped, I vowed that he would send no others to such a fate. I must see this done, Silver. Otherwise it will always haunt me.”

  “I wouldn’t ask you to betray a vow. At least now I can understand why you take such terrible risks. But where will you start?”

  “By the old mill. I suspect it’s some sort of meeting place. Not that I know who is involved yet.” He cupped her cheek. “I have more reason than ever to find this man and see my task complete. When that’s done, I can finally start to live again. To breathe again. To think about having a future.”

  Silver closed her eyes, knowing the awful danger before him. If he was caught, the penalty would be hanging.

  Silver refused to let that happen.

  But she didn’t tell Luc that, of course. She only slid closer and ran her hand along the faint scars along his back, smiling when she felt him shudder.

  Now was for silent vows and forging impossible dreams. Now was for lovers who had stolen joy from the very jaws of fate.

  “And what of you, Susannah St. Clair? Do you mean to tell me what put this here?” As he spoke, Luc stroked the white hair at Silver’s forehead.

  “It happened when my father died.” She swallowed, needing to tell him some of what she had discovered. “Only, he didn’t die. He was murdered. Before his death he wrote in his journal that men were pursuing him, men evil enough to want him dead because he refused to help them. And I’m afraid they finally succeeded.”

  “My sweet love,” Luc whispered, pressing his lips to the pale strands. “No more tears,” he said roughly. “Only joy, my heart.” Silver’s breath caught as he found her and claimed her, and her desire was as sharp as his when their bodies met. Tumbling over the soft grass, thigh to thigh, they kissed in reckless haste and swept to a breathless, searing release.

  Even when they slept Luc held her close, locked against him, one hand molding her hip.

  And while the moon sailed the Norfolk night and the roses danced amid ghostly banks of honeysuckle, a nightingale seemed to sing just for them.

  ~ ~ ~

  “Where will you start?”

  Overhead dawn was streaking the eastern sky. Silver lay with her head in Luc’s lap, while he sat against the ancient oak.

  He deliberately chose to misunderstand her question. “I believe I’ll count the freckles here on your shoulder.”

  Silver tugged on his hair. “Be serious, Luc.”

  “I am. It’s no easy task in this half-light, I assure you.”

  “Insufferable man! Tell me. I’ll worry far more if you don’t.”

  Luc felt the now familiar heat begin to pound through him. His body hardened, desperate for her again even after the long hours he’d spent in her arms. “Very well,” he said, his eyes searching her worried face. “I won’t lie to you. There will be danger. And I’ll need documents to prove my suspicions.”

  “But the risks…”

  “You’re my greatest risk, woman. First pistols and then rapiers. Whatever is proper English womanhood coming to?”

  “I’m serious, Luc. Let me help. I can go where you can’t. I can—”

  “Out of the question. I want you well away from this,” he growled. Then he told her briefly about the old mill and his belief that it had a hidden entrance. He had to find out its secrets.

  Silver bit back a protest. She knew that on this point he would never bend.

  “Never fear, my love. I’ll be back.” Luc traced the pale, moon-sheened outline of her hip. “Meanwhile, I have the very thing to keep your mind on happier subjects.”

  She managed a smile. “Do you indeed, rogue? Or is this just more of a highwayman’s bravado?”

  “For that remark you’ll pay, my beauty.” He caught her beneath him. His eyes aglint with gold, he tongued the satin of her belly. “Not bravado, my sweet. Just a warning. I’m bound for treasure tonight, and I’ll find it at all cost. No matter what obstacles lie before me,” he added darkly.

  Her locked fingers lay in his path. He nudged them free, then made his way to his shadowed goal.

  “Your eyes are most fascinating, my lady. Their color, changeable always, seems to suit your mood. At the moment of your passion they almost seem to go silver. Something,” he said hoarsely, “that I have had occasion to observe several times now.”

  Silver flushed. “You needn’t remind me of my shameless behavior.”

  “Not shameless, but entrancing. An impossible challenge. A man finds himself dreaming of all the ways he will put that flash of silver in your eyes again.”

  And then he did just that.

  Silver cried out as he found the heart of her and brought the sweet, fierce fire deep inside her. Her fingers clenched in the cool, dark grass and her toes burrowed into the rich, sweet earth.

  While the fire still burned, while her heart still raced the heavens, he came to her with all his steel and need.

  She didn’t think twice.

  She didn’t look back.

  She only caught him close, denying him nothing as she matched him in his fierce pleasure.

  ~ ~ ~

  When the sun crept over the eastern hills, Luc finally pulled away and helped her dress. Even then his hands lingered on her gown, on her shawl, on her glowing cheeks and burnished hair.

  But night was gone. The sun was up and prying eyes might be watching. It was no safe time for a highwayman to be abroad.

  As she watched him go, Silver formed a reckless resolve.

  ~ ~ ~

  “Bram, wake up!” Light was streaming through the cott
age window as Silver shook the sleeping figure half burrowed beneath his blankets.

  She would not change her mind. She could not let Luc take such reckless risks. She would have to save him. Men might talk of their vaunted honor, but what good was honor to a dead man?

  And to the woman who loved him?

  No, let the men talk of honor; it was the women who would keep the world running smoothly.

  “Wake up, sleepyhead, we have work to do.”

  A pair of emerald-green eyes peered owlishly from beneath the bedclothes. “Syl, is that you? Blast, it’s barely dawn.”

  “Don’t I know it,” Silver said. For a moment there was a husky catch in her voice. “But we have work to do. Come, up with you. Aren’t you the one who is always telling me I’m too coldhearted to that highwayman you idolize?”

  “You mean Blackwood?”

  “None other.”

  Young Brandon sat up abruptly. “He’s not taken, is he? Good Lord, Syl, the magistrate and his men haven’t run him to ground, have they?”

  “No, no, nothing like that.” Silver tossed her brother his boots. “But he will be, if we don’t help him. The man is too reckless by half.” But tenderness edged through her voice.

  “I don’t understand.” Bram’s voice was muffled as he tugged on his clothes. “How are we to help him?” The boy’s head appeared from his shirt. “Are we to accompany him on a midnight foray upon the heath, armed to the teeth while we help him hold up a carriage? That would be capital fun!”

  Silver shook her head, laughing. “It’s bloodthirsty you’ve become, Brandon St. Clair! Too much time spent around the highwayman and that dour servant of his. No, of course we’re not going to accompany Luc upon the heath. We have something far more important to do.” Silver’s eyes narrowed for a moment as she remembered Luc’s explanation of his aborted midnight search at the old mill. “He’s been looking for information, Bram, something about the man who was involved in his kidnapping five years ago. You and I are going to find that information for him,” Silver finished tersely.

  Bram’s smile wavered. “Does Luc know about this?”

  “Of course he doesn’t. That’s the whole point. If the man insists on traipsing from one end of Norfolk to the other, he’s bound to be captured.” Silver crossed her arms atop her chest. “Our job is to find the man and bring Luc the information he so desperately needs.”

  Bram did not look quite so confident as Silver when he grabbed up his jacket and followed her out the door.

  ~ ~ ~

  The old white mill was just where Luc had told Silver, beside the turning of the creek where it flowed south to Kingsdon Cross. The building was half covered by willows that skirted the stream. There appeared to be no sign of life at this early hour.

  “That’s it?” Bram said, scoffing. “Looks like nothing but a silly old mill to me.” The boy shoved his glasses up on his nose, frowning at the path rising before the house, half hidden between steep hedgerows. It looked far too normal, far too mundane, for the swashbuckling scenario he had been imagining. “You must have got the location wrong, Syl.”

  “No, that’s the place. See, there’s the elm tree cut in half by lightning just where Luc said it would be.” Silver gnawed at her lip for a moment, feeling a chill at her neck. “Luc told me he thought a traitor was using this place for a lair. He almost caught the man too.”

  “What happened?”

  Silver flushed, unwilling to tell Bram that Luc had failed because he’d been distracted — distracted by memories of her. “The man was too clever. He must have had a secret exit.”

  “What’s our plan?” her brother said eagerly. “Maybe we should break down the door and drag the villain out. Or should we set fire to the place and smoke him out?”

  Silver gave her brother’s hair a tug. “What a villain you’ve become! We do neither. We wait. And we watch both entrances. Our job is to find the man’s identity and discover any documents he might be carrying. Then as he’s leaving we shall simply divest him of those documents.”

  “We will, will we?” Bram gave his sister an appreciative look. “And how are we to do that?”

  Silver raised the hem of her riding skirt. Bram grinned down at the little pistol tucked inside her half boot. “Very persuasive, Syl. Which side shall I take?”

  “The front, I think. I’ll watch the rear, overlooking the river. I suspect he might have a secret entrance there. If so, the fellow could try to make his way to a boat moored downstream.” Silver frowned. She wished they might have brought Tinker along to help, but she knew he never would have permitted the St. Clairs to face such danger.

  So it was up to her to keep Bram safe.

  Her brother, meanwhile, had nothing but delight for the plan. “Capital, Syl! We’ll manage perfectly by ourselves!”

  ~ ~ ~

  The morning passed, but there was absolutely no sign of activity in the little white mill. Three boats made their way down the river and several riders crossed the narrow bridge to the south. About noon a farmer thundered by with a wagonful of corn bound for King’s Lynn, but there was still no sign of movement in the mill.

  A little before noon Bram made his way through the woods to the spot where Silver sat watching the back of the house. “You sure this is the right place, Syl?”

  “I’m sure,” she said grimly. “Luc described it without question. And the man’s probably in there right now.” She gnawed at her lower lip. “He’ll have to come out sometime.”

  “No problem with me,” Bram said cheerfully. “It will save me from distilling that new batch of lavender with Tinker. I only wish we had brought something for lunch.”

  Silver was just about to direct him to the pigeon pies wrapped in muslin inside her saddlebags, when a tiny door eased open at the base of the mill. A man appeared above the narrow steps that led down to the peaceful stream. Quickly, she pulled Bram back beneath the covering foliage of a willow tree. “Do you see him?”

  “I see,” her brother said softly.

  As they watched, breathless, a figure in a drab cloak edged slowly down the steps with a heavy miller’s sack clutched beneath one arm. The steps where he stood were half hidden behind a crumbling brick foundation. In the dead of night or with any hint of mist clinging to the river, the man would have been invisible.

  It was no wonder Luc had missed him, Silver thought.

  A moment later a boat pulled silently out of the reeds along the far shore. A man in a dark brown jacket and moleskin trousers bent to the oars.

  Silver caught back a gasp.

  There was something very familiar about the man at the oars. The set of his shoulders and the color of his trousers left a cold feeling in her stomach.

  Unless she was mistaken, he was the leader of the band who had terrorized her at Lavender Close.

  Silver’s eyes hardened as she watched the boat draw up to the steps. The other man tossed his sack aboard, then climbed in clumsily.

  “What do we do now, Syl?” Bram’s voice was hoarse with excitement.

  “I believe that we shall follow them.”

  ~ ~ ~

  At that same moment nearly ten miles away Luc Delamere stood glaring at a sleepy-eyed James Tinker.

  “What do you mean, she isn’t bloody here?” he thundered.

  “Just what I said,” the old servant snapped. “Reckon she must’ve dodged out just afore dawn. Aye, and it’s surprised I am that she had any strength left to move, seeing how busy she was making herself with some other person last night in the lavender fields on the hillside.”

  Luc bit back a curse, flushing slightly. So the old servant knew about that, did he? Of course, a fellow couldn’t hope for a shred of secrecy. Not at Lavender Close Farm!

  He’d left Silver as the sun rose, far sooner than he wanted to, but he had business at Waldon Hall and plans to lay with Connor MacKinnon. Who’d have thought the reckless female would sneak off as soon as his back was turned?

  Luc ran through all
the places where he might find her. There was the gaming hall in Kingsdon Cross or even the bordello. He shuddered to think of what deviltry she might be about there.

  Sweet heaven, she might even have gone back to the Green Man!

  One thing was certain, Luc decided. When he did find her, he was going to flay her tender little backside. He would shake some sense into her. A little healthy terror might not be such a bad thing if it kept her safe and in one piece.

  Luc was just coming to this resolve when a cough at his shoulder made him turn. He scowled at his towering friend. “James Tinker, meet Connor MacKinnon,” he said curtly.

  “Another one of your highway friends?” the old servant asked. “He’s got the look of a thief about him, so I’m thinking.”

  The blonde-haired MacKinnon threw back his head and laughed, the sound booming like thunder from his broad chest.

  “Some of his business competitors would no doubt call him a thief,” Luc said dryly. “As the man has saved my hide more than once, I suppose I can’t be too hard on him.”

  But as Luc looked out over the flower fields, watching lavender and early-morning mist run together in a shimmering haze of purple, his smile faded. “I expect I’ll have to go drag the female back.”

  “It’s you or myself,” the old servant said grimly. “I’m afraid I don’t seem to have done too well at keeping her safe.”

  “You’ve done the best you can, Tinker. I’ll go. You stay and keep an eye on things here. This time, however, I mean to see that the female stays put,” Luc said darkly. “Even if I have to marry her to do it.”

  Tinker’s lips twitched. “Good luck, your lordship,” he said. “I’ve tried for over ten years to make her listen to me and have had no luck.” His eyes narrowed. “Then again, mebbe you’ll be more lucky, seeing as how you’re a man what has special charms with the ladies.”

  “With this lady I do,” Luc said darkly. “Whether she’s realized it or not.”

 

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