A Second Chance for Murder

by Ann Lacey

  Frozen with terror, Thora pressed herself against the cold, rough stones of Mannington Manor, too afraid to breathe but unable to take her eyes off the figure creeping closer. He stood barely an arm’s length away from her. Suddenly, and to her great relief, the figure moved past her, quickening his pace and disappearing into the fog. Thora took a deep breath, exhaling it slowly and waited for her heart to stop racing before she darted out of her concealment and right into the arms of a man. Huntscliff.

  “Lady Thora, what’s wrong?” Garren asked, momentarily startled by Thora’s leap out of the shadows. “Did something frighten you?”

  Not wanting Huntscliff to know she’d narrowly escaped becoming a victim of the mysterious figure, which would lead to the question of why she hadn’t used her police rattle, Thora quickly replied, “I thought I heard the sound of some sort of animal moving about.”

  “Oh,” Garren uttered with an unbelieving tone that grated on Thora’s nerves.

  “What took you so long?” she snipped.

  “I would have been here sooner but Viscount Simon-North insisted on giving me the opportunity to recover from my loss at billiards.” With the tips of his long fingers, he lifted her chin. “Are you so eager to hear my sonnets?”

  Even in the dim light, Thora could see the sparkle in his eyes.

  In a voice deep and smooth, he murmured,

  “You lie in all my many thoughts, like light, like the fair light of dawn or summer eve

  On rippling stream or cloud reflecting lake, the sheen from eyes so blue it destroys my will

  And makes me slave to thee, my fair, my lovely Thora.”

  The poem was familiar, the tone beguiling. It was one she had read, but Garren had changed a few of the words and made it his own. How clever. His thoughtfulness stirred her. When he dragged her toward him, she melted against him. Like clay in a sculptor’s hand, she let him brush her lips with the pad of his thumb and then delicately tilt her head to the perfect angle for their lips to meet. His kiss was tender and loving, one that sent tingles down to her toes. When their lips parted, he asked, “Won’t you please call me Garren?”

  Thora looked up into a face that defined the meaning of masculinity, but before she answered, there was something she needed to know. “Did you kiss me to keep me quiet?”

  “No,” Garren chuckled. So that is why she was miffed! The excuse he’d used for kissing her in the boathouse had upset her, as if kissing her had no significance at all. Good Lord, if she only knew the power she possessed. “Did my poetry surpass the recitation you heard earlier today?”

  “Oh yes,” Thora said, causing him to puff out his chest in pride, but it quickly shrank with her next words. “But you must commend Lord Flemington for his effort in attempting something so alien to him.”

  Thora disentangled herself from his embrace. “I better go inside. I don’t want to worry my brother should he discover I’m missing and send Mr. Greenstreet out to look for me.” She started to go back when she turned and smiled. “Goodnight, Garren.”

  Garren took her hand, preventing her from leaving. Moving close to her, with her hand still clasped in his, he raised it to his lips and planted a kiss in her palm. “Sweetest dreams, Thora.”

  After Thora had returned inside, Garren stood alone on the back terrace and knew that he had found the woman he wanted to spend a lifetime with. He just had to convince her of it.

  As Garren returned inside, a figure emerged from the misty shadows. A figure that had seen and heard all and now knew he would have to make his move soon. Very soon.

  Garren watched as Thora made her way among the guests to bid them goodnight. It was early but he heard her use the excuse of wanting to get an early start the next morning. With menacing disapproval, he watched as the men in the room smiled just a bit too seductively, sought to entice her with flattery to have her linger by their side a few moments longer, or, most enraging, admiring her retreating form with hungry eyes as she turned her back to them. Not wanting to raise any brows, he waited a decent interval before following her upstairs. It would allow time for her maid to assist her in preparing for sleep. He had timed it perfectly. As he reached the top landing, he passed Molly in the hall.

  “Goodnight, Lord Huntscliff,” she said, smiling up at him.

  “Goodnight,” he returned, inwardly thinking it was to be a good night. His long strides quickly brought him to Thora’s bedroom door. He knocked. From inside he heard the soft patter of slippers and his heart began to race. There was no surprise in Thora’s eyes when she opened the door to find him filling the doorframe. She stepped aside to allow him entrance, giving him a sly smile as he brushed past her.

  Her room was as he’d imagined. Not frilly with ruffles and yards of lace. Its femininity spoke through its soft hues on the walls and bedcovers, its delicate curved fruitwood furnishings, and its many flowers. The bedroom was sprinkled with fragrant buds and blossoms in vases both large and small. A full bundle of white roses sat in a glass urn on a table by the window, while a smaller vase of petal pink wild flowers dotted her nightstand. Sweet-scented violets adorned her dressing table and her writing desk. Even her nightgown had embroidered yellow daisies on its high-necked collar. The lightweight gown was simple yet provocative in its modesty, shielding her treasures.

  Wide blue eyes peered up at him with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. They both had been children when they had first met, but now he was a man and she was a woman. A very alluring woman. And a virgin—an innocent in the body of a temptress. True to her nature, Thora’s face bore the flush of eagerness. Eagerness to cross the threshold from innocence to womanhood, and he would gladly serve as her guide.

  He took her hand and raised it to his lips, planting a tender kiss in her palm. Then he placed it against his cheek. Her palm was soft and cool, yet it sent a wave of heat rushing through him. Delicately, her slender fingers followed the line of his jaw to his chin, then up to his lips. Her inquisitive exploration of his face was maddening, and he felt his heart pump faster.

  He struggled to remain still until the need to kiss her overwhelmed him and he slid his mouth over hers in a long, leisurely kiss. Cupping the back of her head, he held her in place while he slipped his tongue into her mouth.

  Their tongues danced together as if performing some type of pagan mating ritual. When he finally stepped away, her lips were puffy and she was breathless. Her hands grasped his upper arms, and he felt her fingernails through the cloth of his jacket, digging into the bulge of his biceps as if to steady the need growing within her. He brought his lips to hers again with hungry kisses, smothering her soft, quivering moans. Her hurried breaths fanned the flames growing inside him. His fingers deftly began to undo the row of tiny pearl buttons on the front of the neckline of her nightdress, revealing a teasing glimpse of breast. Taking two fistfuls of the cloth draping her thighs, he lifted the gown over her head and tossed it aside. Her breasts rose and fell as she panted from his passionate kisses. The sight held him spellbound.

  Standing before Garren, Thora suddenly realized she was naked. Her legs instinctively clamped together and her face flamed.

  To ease her discomfort, he whispered, “Thora, you are so beautiful. A stirring delight to a man’s eyes.”

  Thora’s blush remained, but he saw some of the tension ease from her body. Her pink cheeks would have deepened to crimson were she aware that she was standing only a few feet from a mirrored wardrobe, giving him an excellent view of her bare backside.

  He began to sweat, imagining how nicely his hands would fit over her firm, plump bottom. Such a fine little cushion when she lay beneath him. A tiny gasp left her lips when he scooped her into his arms and carried her over to the bed. He laid her down gently and then stood over her, staring down at her. It was with great restraint that he resisted tearing his clothes from his body. He was bur
ning with the desire to take her long and hard. Her blue eyes watched anxiously as he removed his clothing. When he was finished, her gaze took him in from head to toe, her eyes stopping midway and widening at the sight of his erection.

  “I’ve never seen a man in all his naked glory before, except in books and art paintings,” she said, continuing her perusal of his muscular torso, taking in his rippled stomach and powerful thighs. “In comparison, you appear a fine specimen.”

  “Specimen?” he asked, a lazy smile stretching his lips. “Am I to be examined like some type of insect? To be poked and probed? If so, I must warn you that part of my anatomy will stand in protest.”

  “It seems to have done that already,” Thora returned, casting her eyes downward.

  “You have that effect on me,” he murmured. “Ever since I saw you standing at the library window. I wanted you then and I want you more now.” Lying down beside her, he drew her near and a low guttural groan escaped his lips as the sensation of her feminine flesh against his erection nearly had him spilling.

  It had been a while since he had lain with a woman, since before his stay in the hospital, and now with this beauty in his arms, his urges were clamoring for release. But now was not the time to be selfish. He was on edge with desire but he need to regain control. Thora was not just another warm body to give him ease. She was more . . . much more. She was important to him. She needed to be prepared, to be made ready for him. He was skilled. He knew how to use his fingers, his lips, his tongue, and his cock to bring her to a woman’s fulfillment.

  Burning desire flamed through him at the thought of Thora calling out his name in the heat of her passion. His breathing was disturbed as she ran her fingers down to the groove at the base of his back. His hand slid over her breast, cupping the rounded globe. Her nipple peaked, rosy and hard in his palm. He traced the under curve of her breast with the pad of his thumb, causing a faint moan to float from Thora’s lips. Lowering himself, he took the tightly budded nipple into his mouth. He felt her quiver as he tugged the sensitive peak with his teeth. He started to move his lips to the valley between her breasts when, suddenly, through his haze of passion, the hairs on the back of his neck twitched and he felt Thora being pulled from beneath him.

  Lifting his head, he saw a dark figure cloaked in black, long spidery fingers grasping Thora. Garren tried to move but couldn’t, as if he were paralyzed.

  Thora had been torn from his embrace. He strained to speak, to shout out a warning, but his lips moved and nothing came out. The figure in black threw its cloaked head back and laughed s. With every ounce of strength in his body, Garren strove to rise, but his legs were caught in the tangle sheets, and as he leaped out of bed, he fell to the floor.

  When he raised his head, the ghastly figure was gone. Garren shook his head. Looking about, he discovered that he was back in his room. Then he realized it had been just a dream, a frightful dream. But was it a premonition?

  Chapter 8

  The next morning, as the guests breakfasted inside the manor, a steady stream of servants carried tables and chairs down to the lake and placed them in the shade of the trees that grew along the water’s edge. A crew of workmen opened the wide, barn-like doors of the boathouse and removed three boats. It was a perfect day to be out on the lake.

  Perched above the lake in a cloudless sky, the sun steadily admired its image in the calm waters until a group of paddling ducks swam by, shattering its reflection and sending a burst of shimmering lights dancing over the ripples they made. After taking out the boats, the workmen placed each one in the water, securely tying them to a jetty that extended from the shore to deeper water. Rowing oars, a jug of water, and a small container of live bait were put into each craft. When the servants had arranged the table and chairs, they returned inside and on a long table in one of the drawing rooms, they lined up a number of fishing poles.

  “Thora, I still don’t understand how you could go fishing when you have to touch those disgusting, wiggling worms,” Lauryn said, making a face of disgust as the group of guests gathered in the drawing room for the day’s outing.

  Picking out a fishing rod from the table with a smile, Thora responded, “When you’ve found frogs in your tea cup, lizards racing down the hall, or some other equally repulsive, crawly creature placed in your bedcovers by your older brother, putting a worm on a hook is child’s play.”

  Lady Lauryn glanced over at Nyle who was standing nearby. “Lord Somerville, did you really do all those things?”

  “Indeed I did,” Nyle confessed truthfully. “It’s a brother’s duty.” He chuckled.

  Lauryn could not disguise her shock, causing Nyle’s chuckle to deepen.

  “Well, then, I consider myself most fortunate to have been blessed with an older sister,” she remarked, and went to stand with her mother who was holding a box of watercolors. The Mayfields had decided to paint while waiting for the men to finish their sport.

  Lord Huntscliff moved along the table slowly, picking up a rod every now and again to test its flexible and how snugly it fit into his palm before setting it back down. Before he considered his next choice, he suddenly became aware that he was being followed. Turning, he found it was the three young Langless girls, whom he had met for the first time last evening. “Good morning, ladies,” he greeted.

  “Good morning, Lord Huntscliff!” they sang in unison like students greeting their favorite teacher. The youngest, Emily, approached him holding an object in her hand.

  “I have a good luck charm for you, my lord,” the bubbly nine-year-old excitedly squealed. Uncurling the fingers of her small hand, she revealed a tiny porcelain pony attached to a long length of pink ribbon.

  Garren sat on his haunches, bringing himself to her level. Bending his head, he let the girl place it over his neck as if she were awarding him a medal. “Wearing this charm, I have every confidence that Lord Somerville and I will win this contest, Miss Emily,” he said solemnly. He then let the girls assist him in his selection of a rod.

  Observing the scene, Thora was touched. He likes children and would no doubt make a wonderful father, she concluded dreamily. Like Garren, Thora took great care in the selection of her fishing pole. She was the last to make a choice, and then, pole in hand, she followed the group of guests as they left the manor and went down to the lake. Walking a few feet ahead of her was Lord Huntscliff, circled by the three Langless girls, all busy chatting at the same time. Throwing her a backward glance, he gave her a look of helplessness. She giggled, thinking how she must have been just like those little girls tagging along after him and her older brother in her younger days. Lost in pleasant reverie, she was unaware that there was someone walking beside her until she heard a voice.

  “I think you may have an unfair advantage over of the rest of us, Lady Thora.” It was Marquis Brightington who had spoken and his piercing green eyes gazed down at her.

  “How so, my lord?” Thora asked.

  “If I were a fish, it wouldn’t take much coaxing to lure me to your line,” Marquis Brightington explained with a seductive smile.

  Thora didn’t know why, but she found Marquis Brightington’s flattery unsettling. “My charm has never helped me before,” she said, forcing a laugh and quickening her step, which prompted him to do likewise, and positioning them both within the sphere of the other guests.

  The men, who were to fish from the boats, strode down the jetty and paired themselves with their team member. Marquis Brightington and Lord Flemington took the first craft and received their well wishes from the Mayfields in the form of a demure wave. Sandler Leedworthy and Viscount Simon-North took the next boat, softly cheered on by Lady Floris. It was Nyle and Garren who got the most rousing send off from the three young Langless girls, who jumped up and down on the jetty shouting their encouraging support. Lady Langless kissed her husband’s cheek, handed him a flask of water,
and wished him and Thora good luck.

  Thora frowned. “Now that your daughters have scared off all the fish, Lord Langless, I think it best if we find a better spot to cast our lines. And I know just the place!”

  “You know this lake better than I, child. Lead on,” Lord Langless bellowed.

  Thora’s competitive spirit had her rolling her eyes, realizing she was going to have to curtail conversation with her boisterous partner if she wanted to win this contest. With Lord Langless following a short distance behind her, Thora led the way to one of her favorite fishing spots. Just a few yards from the jetty was a stone bridge that could take one quickly over to the other side of the lake where the water was deeper and well stocked with fish. Crossing the bridge, Thora briskly followed the winding shoreline until she came to a high bank that jutted out into the water and allowed her to view the other teams as they rowed past. Determined to win, she didn’t wait for her partner, Lord Langless, before settling down on the grass. With speed her competitors would have admired, Thora baited her hook and threw her line into the water, getting a head start on the others.

  It was with remarkable ease that the burly Lord Flemington pulled on the oars of his boat carrying himself and Marquis Brightington. Their boat glided across the water as smoothly as skates on ice. Slowing his momentum briefly, Flemington flashed a bright smile in her direction and Marquis Brightington gave her a disquieting glance.

  A few seconds later, the next team to parade by was Viscount Simon-North and Sandler Leedworthy. Simon-North had undoubtedly refused to do anything as menial as rowing a boat and had left the chore to his teammate. While Leedworthy, his face marked with exertion, strained at the oars, the viscount smiled and waved as they passed.