“It is just so dangerous,” Sophia worried.
Rosemary and Eliza turned to look at her. “Would you rather stay back here, alone?” Rosemary taunted.
Sophia blanched. “No, I will go with you.”
“Do you have the hammer and spike, Rosemary?” Eliza asked.
“Yes, but you have to do it.”
Eliza rolled her eyes. “Of course I will. It has already been decided.”
The girls inched into the dark hallway and stopped outside their host’s door. They looked at each other and took a deep breath. Eliza turned the handle and they entered the room. Rosemary held the spike, ready to defend herself. They shut the door behind them and stared into the darkness, trying to make out shapes.
“We need light,” Sophia whispered.
“Just a minute.” Rosemary inched her way across the room to the door that adjoined to Miss Crawford’s. She opened it and the light from her lamp and fireplace penetrated the darkness in this room.
“Get her lamp,” Eliza hissed.
Rosemary disappeared into Miss Crawford’s room and returned a moment after with a lit candle.
Quietly the three approached the bed. Rosemary lifted the candle so they could see the woman who slumbered there. They held their breath in anticipation.
“It is empty,” Sophia sighed with relief.
“That doesn’t mean she isn’t in here. We need to check the closet, or anywhere else she could hide.”
The girls clung together and walked to the other side of the room, staring into the dark corners and behind furniture, waiting to discover the vampire. After a thorough search, nothing was found.
“Where do you think she has gone?” Rosemary asked.
“Atwood must have moved her to a safer place. He knew it was dangerous for her to be here,” Eliza decided.
“Perhaps he has a castle somewhere. That is what Walter did,” Sophia offered.
“We should go before anyone finds us in here.”
Sophia glanced around the room one last time. A piece of paper caught her eyes and she walked over to the table beneath the window. One sheet listed names. They were names she was well familiar with. Beneath the names was another piece of parchment. Another piece of the map.
“What is that?” Eliza asked as she came to stand beside her.
“Atwood’s piece.”
“What should we do with it? Give it to that nasty man so he will go away?”
“No,” Sophia answered, her voice stronger than either girl had ever heard before. “We will make a copy.” She looked up at them. “Not an exact copy, of course. Then we will return the original here and give Miss Crawford the copy.”
“And how will you explain how we should know about the map?” Eliza questioned.
“Then we leave it somewhere where she will find it.” Sophia shrugged.
“One of the books. I will find it in my book,” Rosemary suggested with excitement.
The girls blew out the candle. Rosemary returned it to Miss Crawford’s room and they left as quietly as they had arrived.
* * *
He could not get enough of her. If she would have discouraged him at any point, he would have pulled back. Instead, she clung to him, and made soft mewling sounds. Did she have any idea what those sounds did to a man? She also wasn’t acting like any innocent he had ever met, which meant he did not need to hold back, if he wished to proceed further.
His fingers found fastenings at the back of her dress. He wanted to loosen her bodice before he did anything else. Her hands moved from his neck to plant firmly on his chest.
His lips trailed down her neck to the edge of her bodice. Only a few more inches. He pushed the dress further down. Vincent lifted his head to view the sight. Only a thin bit of muslin kept him from her skin. With both hands, he pushed her chemise down and she was free. Perfect, just as he had envisioned. One hand caressed a breast as he brought his mouth to the other. Miss Crawford moaned and arched her back. No, one taste was not enough.
While his mouth loved on her, his hand reached down to grasp the hem of her skirt. Slowly he lifted it until her leg was exposed. With a hand, he caressed her from knee to thigh. All of her was as soft as he originally believed.
His fingers were a fraction of an inch from the apex of her thighs when she pushed on his chest. No, she could not want to turn back now. Please no.
He lifted his head to look at her. Miss Crawford’s eyes were wide. Her face pale. “Please, I cannot do this.”
He wanted her with a need he had never experienced before, but he was not a monster. He pulled away while she straightened her gown. Her hands shook as she reached around behind her and tried to refasten the few buttons he had managed to undo. “I can’t believe I behaved in this manner. What must you think of me? I’ve never allowed such liberties.”
“Here, let me.” He turned her so her back was presented to him and finished what she could not reach.
“You’ve never allowed a kiss?” Please, don’t lie to me. Not after this?
Her face burned bright and she smoothed her skirts. “I’ve allowed kisses in the past. But they were never like that.”
If possible, her face turned even redder. So, he kissed the best. Better than Percer. A grin pulled at his lips.
He stood to retrieve the bottle of brandy. They both needed a drink right now. He returned and stopped before her. Miss Crawford’s eyes were focused on him, or at least his physical reaction to her.
She looked up at him. “I’m sorry.”
At least she wasn’t so innocent she didn’t understand the bulge in his pants. He chuckled. “I will survive.” Though he wasn’t so sure if he was the one telling the truth now.
Miss Crawford accepted the glass. “Lord Atwood, I want to assure you, I have never behaved in this manner before.”
“Vincent.”
She turned to look at him. “Pardon?”
He grinned. “Vincent. It is my name and I wish you would call me by that instead of my title.”
“Oh, I couldn’t.”
“Well, perhaps not in front of the students or other teachers, but when we are alone, working. Do you think that is possible, Tess?”
Tess swallowed. “I suppose.”
She took a hasty drink, then a second, and then a third. Vincent lifted the glass from her hand. “I am afraid if you keep drinking so quickly you will regret it in the morning.”
“I am sure that isn’t the only thing I shall regret,” she mumbled.
He placed his hands on her face and turned her toward him. “Tess, you have nothing to be ashamed of. Your innocence is still intact and what occurred between us is quite natural.”
“Not for me. I am a teacher and held to high standards.”
“I promise not to tell.” He bent forward and placed a chaste kiss on her lips. “Now, you should return to your room. If you sit here much longer, looking as desirable as you do now, I may not be responsible for my actions.”
Her eyes widened, but she stood and made her way to the door. “Good night,
Lord - I mean, Vincent.”
He could hear her slippered feet run up the stairs. Oh, it was going to be a very long night.
* * *
Tess closed the door and leaned back against it. What had come over her? She should have stopped him long before his hand was on her leg, but the will to do so was not there. She always wondered what it would be like to have a man kiss her, in a way that made your toes curl. She had heard it was possible, but never truly believed it until tonight. Then he did those other things to her body. My goodness, one must not behave in such way so close to the fireplace because she was positive she would burst into flames if she got any warmer. So warm she wanted him to strip the dress from her. To be free. To finally know what happened between a man and a woman, but stopped herself. If she hadn’t ended it when she did, she knew it would have been all over and her innocence but a memory.
She slowly walked into her room and sat on
the bed. Perhaps she should have allowed him to make love to her, completely. She may never again have the chance. And, who better to make love to you than Lord Atwood? The experience alone would warm her for many a night on her voyage to America.
No, she was right in stopping him when she did. She had enough to worry about with a pregnancy on top of everything else. Her virginity was not a concern because she doubted it would ever be an issue. As long as she had to run and hide, she could never love and marry. Perhaps she should return to him. Would it be so bad to have that one experience to remember forever?
She shook her head. Stupid girl. You need to leave tonight to save yourself. You lost your head once over a gentleman and look what it got you. You are wanted for murder. Eventually Atwood will find out too and turn you in. Even the memories of tonight would not keep her warm in Newgate.
With determination, she placed the bag from Claudia on the bed and walked to the armoire. She would pack and go. Time was of the essence.
* * *
What possessed him to kiss her? His intention had been to gain her trust but she had looked so alone, afraid and the will to protect rose within him. The more they spoke the more he could not resist until the only thing he could think of was kissing her. Now what was he to do? He still did not know the truth of her relationship with Percer or if she did, in fact, murder her uncle. How could he be drawn to her knowing what little he did? But drawn to her he was. He could not recall the last time he desired a woman so much. Something had to be done to rectify the situation.
He looked around the library. It would be impossible to work tonight. He might as well turn in. Vincent blew out the candles in the library and made his way to his room. There he lit the lamp beside his bed. He was exhausted.
With brandy in hand he wandered to the window and looked toward the path into the woods. He dearly hoped he did not see Tess run in that direction. Not after what they had just shared. He placed his glass on the table then drew his shirt off. When he reached down for his brandy again he noticed the parchment turned over. He picked it up. It was the list of names. Where was the map? He searched the table, the floor and under the bed. It was gone.
* * *
The door crashed against the wall and Tess jumped. She was just about to leave her room and sneak out of the house.
“Where is it?” Vincent demanded.
The blood must have raced from her for suddenly she was chilled, even in her cloak. “Where is what?”
“You know exactly what I mean.”
She took a step back as he advanced on her. “No, I don’t.”
He stopped and his eyes raked her from top to bottom. “Are you going somewhere?”
She swallowed. She was in her cloak and carrying a bag full of her clothing. A lie would not suffice right now. It was better not to answer.
“I should have known better than to trust you.” He stalked toward her.
Tess continued to back up, suddenly afraid. Where was the lover she had been with a short time ago?
“Did you think to seduce me into giving it to you, but changed your mind? That is the tactic your fiancé used.”
“Fiancé?”
“I know all about Percer and your betrothal.”
“No, you don’t understand.” She dropped the bag.
“Then explain it to me. Or is there another reason you met him in the woods last night.”
Oh dear, how did he know? “I can explain.”
“I already know. You were sent here to retrieve a piece of the map and return it to him.”
“No, I mean, yes. Wait. Let me explain,” she begged.
He stood, feet braced apart, arms crossed over his chest. “Explain!”
“I was engaged to Percer, a very long time ago, before I knew what he was like.”
“Go on.”
“He found me here and threatened me.”
“With what? What did he want?”
“He wanted the piece of a map. He already took mine. I thought he would go away after that, I prayed he would go away, but he demanded I find yours.”
“And now that you have it, you are on your way to meet him.”
“No,” Tess cried. “I don’t have it. I am running from him. Don’t you understand how dangerous he is?” She knew she was screaming but he had to be made to understand. She could still get past him and to the door and would if necessary, though she doubted she could out run Vincent.
“It is no longer where I left it. So who do you suppose took my piece of the map?”
The statement shocked her. No, it couldn’t have disappeared. Unless Percer somehow got into the house. The thought scared her beyond anything else. While she was lying on the couch with Vincent, Percer could have been up here wandering around, doing anything he wished. “Oh, no.” She rushed for the door.
Vincent was there in a heartbeat and grabbed her arm. “Where do you think you are going?”
“I have to check on the others. If he got in here, he could have hurt any of them. Don’t you understand how dangerous he is? How evil?”
Vincent stepped back. “He could not get in the house.”
“Then where did your piece of the map go? I don’t have it and that man is obsessed with getting all of them.”
Vincent gently held onto her arm and pulled her into his room. He tugged on the bell pull and turned back to her. “Why run now? All you had to do was give him the paper, once you located it, and he would leave you alone.”
A knock sounded at his door and Wesley appeared.
“I want you to awaken the servants and search the house.”
“Has someone broken in?” Wesley straightened his jacket as if not disturbed by the possibility.
“My document is missing. Miss Crawford fears Percer may have come into the house to get it.”
“That would be most unpleasant. I will notify you with what we learn.” Wesley closed the door behind him.
Vincent turned back to her. “You did not answer my question.”
Tess pulled her arm away. It would do no good to try and run now. It was over and she would have to face her punishment.
“If I remain, he will see me arrested.” She was surprised by how calm her voice sounded now.
“Because he claims you murdered your uncle?”
How did he know? Tess swallowed and blinked back tears.
“Well, did you?”
She looked him directly in the eye and answered. “Yes.”
Say is thy spirit so heavy, or thy love so weak, or thy faith
so hollow, that the hope of being mine for ever is unable
to touch thee?
Wake Not the Dead
Johann Ludwig Tieck
Chapter 17
Her answer was a punch to his stomach. He had hoped there was a mistake, but she just admitted to murder. That sweet, beautiful woman looked at him with those grey eyes and told him she murdered her uncle. It was incomprehensible.
“Tess, are you all right, dear,” Mrs. Wiggon’s voice called from inside Miss Crawford’s room. “I heard you scream.” She eventually found her way into Vincent’s room.
“Do you normally employ murderers to teach your students?” he asked her in a cold tone.
“Oh, dear,” she muttered and turned to Tess.
“Oh, goodness.” Miss Morris stopped abruptly behind Mrs. Wiggons.
“Oh, my,” added Miss Pritchard. A slow, appreciative smile graced her face.
Both of the younger ladies had their eyes focused on his chest.
Their appraisal of his body, or at least his chest, brought heat to his face. Good Lord, he was blushing like a school girl.
“We shouldn’t be in here,” Mrs. Wiggons pulled Tess back into her own room. The other teachers followed, though Miss Pritchard moved a bit slower.
Vincent stalked after them. He focused on Miss Crawford and pointed to her. “You. Don’t go anywhere.” He marched back through his room and found his previously discarded shirt on the floor
and put it back on, then stalked back into Miss Crawford’s. He stopped and anchored both hands on his hips. He had no idea what they had been discussing, but their urgent whispers stopped the moment he entered the room.
“Now, would you mind answering my question, Mrs. Wiggons?” He turned his focus next on Miss Crawford, or whoever the hell she was. “Or, would you like to explain why you murdered your uncle?”
All three women spoke at once and he didn’t know who said what.
“Oh, it is nothing like that.”
“You misunderstand.”
“Tess, explain that you are not a murderess.”
However, Miss Crawford remained silent and stared at him. Her face deathly pale. He hoped she didn’t faint before he got his answers.
“Let Miss Crawford explain,” he suggested in what he hoped was a calm tone, but these women were giving him a headache. Something he had not had to deal with in two days and did not relish experiencing anytime soon.
“It is as I said,” Miss Crawford began in a quiet tone. “I shot my uncle.” She sank into a chair in the far corner of the room.
“It is not that simple,” Miss Pritchard insisted.
“What isn’t simple about pointing a pistol at someone and pulling the trigger?” he asked Miss Pritchard, but his focus remained on Miss Crawford.
“For one, she was aiming at Percer.” The answer came from Miss Morris and his focus immediately shifted to her, then back to Miss Crawford. He should have known there was more to the story. “Explain,” he demanded of Miss Crawford.
She turned pleading eyes on Mrs. Wiggons, her face flushed red. Well, at least she didn’t look like she was about to faint.
“You need to tell him, dear. This has to come from you.”
She turned to look at him and lowered her eyes: A pained expression crossed her face. She took a deep breath and stood. “I was foolish enough to believe Percer was interested in me, well…for me.”
To Walk in the Sun (Wiggons' School for Elegant Young Ladies - Book 1) Page 15