by Jo Barrett
She shook her head faintly, words having failed her.
"And every day you grow lovelier still.” His gaze dropped to her lips. “And if we didn't have a lawn filled with nosy, gossiping guests, I'd kiss you right now and prove just how beautiful you are."
She lowered her bow and arrow, almost having forgotten she even held them. “Will you prove it to me later?"
"You may count on it, madam.” He grinned as he set her away from him. “Now, let us see how well you shoot."
Smiling wide, she turned, took aim, and let the arrow fly. Not a clean shot, as her hands were still trembling and her heart still pounding, but she hit the target.
"You never cease to amaze me,” he said.
"I shall take that as a compliment,” she said, and placed the bow aside so that one of the other guests could have a go.
"It was meant as one."
Stepping back, she slipped her hand in the crook of his arm and watched the others. She giggled at the sight of poor George having to assist yet another lady.
He shot her a scowl, and she hastily wiped the grin from her face and glanced at the others.
Lady Crittenden looked on approvingly as George did his duty, and the other ladies were all green, save Katherine, as he worked with Miss Barrington. Her shot went a bit wild, but was followed by another from Katherine, who was quite skilled.
"Nicely done!” George applauded, a bit too loud, but she had hit the mark squarely.
Magnus chuckled. “He's not helping matters, is he?"
"I'm afraid not, but you have to admit that Lady Crittenden is doing rather well."
Magnus nodded as they watched Miss Templeton move to stand between George and Katherine, a look on her face of pure determination. Apparently the other ladies who'd accompanied Lady Crittenden had decided to step aside, as it appeared that Miss Barrington and Miss Templeton were friends as well as serious rivals, while poor George was the prize.
The two ladies flanked Lord Crittenden and began making subtle yet snide comments to one another while ignoring Miss Reynolds all together.
Her friend cast Agatha a humorous glance.
"I see she is more like you than I'd thought,” Magnus said lowly.
"What do you mean?"
He leaned close, as they watched the scene play out before them. “She is sensible and beautiful."
His lips brushed her skin at the temple, and she let out a soft sigh, thrilled that he wished to fill her head with sweet compliments. But her grin fell soon after.
Did he say such things because he thought she needed to hear them or because he actually believed them?
She was plain, nothing special, but he seemed to think otherwise—or did he?
"Beg pardon, my lord,” Barstoke said, standing off to the side.
"Excuse me,” he said, and stepped away.
Agatha watched as Barstoke and Magnus moved to the far side of the lawn and spoke in fervent whispers. It made her skin crawl. Had something happened? Had they found a stranger lurking on the grounds? Had one of the servants been attacked?
She stepped toward them, determined to be included, it was her life, after all, but halfway across the grass she paused when George shouted something. As she turned to see what he was going on about, assuming it had to do with Misses Templeton and Barrington, she felt something sting her arm.
"No!” Magnus yelled.
She reached up to touch the spot on her arm and noticed her dress was torn and blood oozed from an ugly gash. Staring at the blood on her hand, her head swam.
"I will not faint,” she whispered. It was so undignified, and really what was the purpose? But she'd never faired well at the sight of blood. Still, she held to her resolve, praying the wooziness would subside.
"Agatha!” Magnus swept her up into his arms and rushed across the lawn into the house.
"I'm all right. I think."
"Hush, darling, don't talk.” He laid her on a settee then shouted for bandages and a doctor.
She heard their guests talking around her, one or more of the younger ladies crying, and someone saying something about their fault.
"Ladies and gentlemen, if you'd kindly leave the room,” Katherine said. “I'm sure Lady Leighton will be fine. It doesn't appear to be too serious."
Agatha blinked a time or two, noting the burn in her arm. It helped cleared her head. Magnus hovered over her, his face pale as he tied a cloth about her arm. She covered his trembling hand with hers, and he closed his eyes a moment and took several deep breaths.
"Is there anything I can get you, Agatha?” Katherine asked.
"No, I'll be quite all right, thank you."
"This is my fault,” George snapped. “Or rather, those conniving females. Bloody raving lunatics, the lot of them."
"It was an accident.” Or so Agatha hoped. She couldn't see either Miss Templeton or Miss Barrington as a murderess.
"You could have been killed,” he ground out.
"Yes, well, that does seem to be the theme of this house party,” she said.
Magnus lifted his head and speared her with a look. “This is not a joking matter."
She sighed. “You're right, but I am growing rather weary of it all."
"Agatha, that is far too cryptic to let alone,” Katherine said.
"It is nothing that concerns you,” George said, taking her by the arm and escorting her to the door.
"Too late, my lord. I am concerned and I am involved. Now, either you remove your hand, or you shall discover what a girl can learn from five brothers."
The look on George's face brought a smile to Agatha's lips as well as a laugh. “I would listen to her, my lord. We don't need another wound to tend to."
Magnus stood with a sigh, Agatha's hand firmly encased in his. “Let her remain. She may be able to help."
Her head tilted at an inquisitive angle, she strolled back to the center of the room. “And I shall, once I learn the details."
"This is bloody madness,” George sputtered and moved to the liquor cabinet in the corner where he poured, then downed a good deal of brandy.
Katherine rolled her eyes and took a seat across from where Agatha lay. “Begin at the beginning."
Agatha moved to rise, but Magnus was there in a blink.
"Stay still,” he ordered.
"I'd like to sit up, if you please."
"I do not please, and you will lie still until the doctor has had a look at you."
"I don't need a doctor. Katherine will you have a look at it and tell him I'm fine?"
Her friend rose, brushed past her husband, and lifted the edge of the rapping.
"I realize you're a scientist, Miss Reynolds, but your word won't sway me in this matter,” Magnus said.
"I also happen to have had some training in the medical field. I'd wanted to be a doctor, until I realized my true calling was in chemistry,” she said, looking beneath the rapping.
"Good Lord,” George sputtered.
"But I assure you, if she requires medical attention, I will not lie,” Katherine said.
With a muttered oath, Agatha waited for the verdict.
Katherine smiled and gave her a slight wink as she settled beside her on the edge of the settee. “You could do with a stitch or two, but if you don't use your arm for a time, a tight wrapping should suffice."
Magnus let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. The doctor would arrive shortly, Barstoke would've seen to it, and he would look at his wife's wound regardless, but he felt a sense of relief with Miss Reynolds’ opinion.
"I still say she should see a physician,” George grumbled.
"Thank you for that vote of confidence,” Miss Reynolds replied snidely.
"You just admitted to having only some training."
"And you admitted that the entire incident was your fault. If you'd paid better attention to those two silly girls—"
"I was paying attention to you!"
Miss Reynolds fell silent, her mouth a wordles
s ‘oh'.
"Please, it was no one's fault,” Agatha said. “It was an accident."
"Perhaps, Miss Reynolds, if you would take a seat, I shall do my best to explain the situation,” Magnus said.
Agatha smiled up at him, and he took her hand in his, then began to tell what had occurred over the last few days. It astonished even him, as he spoke.
"My goodness,” Miss Reynolds said when he'd finished, but he could see her mind working on the puzzle. “That leaves quite a list of suspects."
"I would rule out both Miss Templeton and Miss Barrington,” Crittenden said.
"Agreed,” Agatha replied. “They didn't have their come-out until two years ago."
"So they could not have any connection to me,” Magnus said.
"I think it truly was an accident,” Miss Reynolds said, then looked at Crittenden. “Unless it wasn't one of their arrows that did the deed."
"I—” Crittenden looked to the floor then out the window, a pensive frown on his face. “I don't know.” He looked at Magnus. “I honestly cannot say if it was or not."
"But one of them or both them were crying, were they not?” Agatha asked.
Magnus squeezed her hand. “I'm afraid several ladies were, darling."
There was a knock at the door, then Barstoke entered. “The doctor, my lord."
"Oh, bother,” Agatha grumbled.
With a weary chuckle, Magnus told him to let the man in.
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Chapter Eleven
Magnus climbed the stairs relieved the evening was over. He'd endured all he cared to of his guests, even his old school chum's presence was wearing thin. He wanted to be with his wife, safe and alone, but knew it would be a time, perhaps a long time before that was possible.
Agatha had spent the remainder of the day tucked away in her rooms with Miss Reynolds by her side, while he was forced to return to his unwanted guests. He'd wanted nothing more than to say with her, but knew his presence was required elsewhere.
All afternoon and into the evening hours he'd looked at each face, wondering who among them wanted him to suffer, who wanted his wife dead?
Lady Crittenden had fussed over him, visited Agatha in her rooms several times, and apologized for barging into his home. She announced that they would all be leaving come morning.
Too little too late, he thought.
As to the Misses Templeton and Barrington, one more apology accompanied with tears, and he'd go mad. There was little doubt as to the incident now. The ladies admitted, repeatedly, that it was their fault, which left him wondering if the murderess was among the guests after all.
He entered his room and went straight to the connecting door and knocked softly. He'd given Tess strict orders not to leave her alone once Miss Reynolds had retired for the night.
The seconds ticked by and there was no response. His heart jumped to his throat, as he yanked the door open, afraid of what he might find. But two steps into her room, he calmed his racing pulse.
Tess lay sleeping on a pallet at the foot of the bed, while Agatha sat curled in a chair by the fire, her notes spread around her, sound asleep. He warmed at the sight of her long dark hair tumbled about her shoulders, her robe gaped open, exposing her full breasts rising and falling with every breath beneath a thin nightgown.
"Beautiful,” he whispered.
He crossed the room and slid his arms beneath her, and lifted her from the chair. She barely fluttered an eyelash. Silently, he carried her to his room and laid her on the bed. He slid her robe from her body then tucked the covers to her chin. She murmured in her sleep, something about kisses, and he smiled.
A soft brush of his lips against hers was all he dared, but he would sleep beside her, guard her from the demon who wished to take her away.
He removed his coat and draped it over a chair, then paused. With a grin, he moved to the cabinet, took down a hanger and neatly hung up his jacket. His neck cloth, however, he was not so careful with, knowing full well it would be pressed, regardless, the following day.
After removing his boots, he sat for a spell before the fire and listened to her deep even breaths. His own fell into a rhythm with hers and for the first time in an age, he felt a peacefulness wash over him. It called him to the bed, and after stripping down to just his under-drawers, he slid between the sheets to lie beside her. He had little doubt he would wake before her in the morning, and be able to cover the scars before she awoke, but until then he would relish the warmth of her body beside his this one time.
On a sigh so sweet he ached to taste her, she rolled toward him and snuggled into his side. He held his breath, fearing she'd wake as she had before, and he knew if he so much as looked into her eyes filled with longing, he would not be able to stop himself from making her wholly and completely his.
Her hand fidgeted a moment atop his bare chest, a fraction of space away from his scars, and she murmured something. But she fell into a deeper sleep, and he breathed a silent sigh of relief.
He placed his hand over hers where it lay and closed his eyes to sleep the most restful sleep he'd had in many a year.
Agatha woke to find herself in her husband's bed, but with no husband.
"Drat,” she said with a huff.
Not that she expected anything more than what they'd shared before, but she would've loved to have had a few minutes alone together before the day began.
As well as a few kisses and caresses.
With a sigh of regret, she rose and retrieved her robe, then made her way to her room and readied herself for the day's events, whatever they were to be. After the archery incident the day prior, she had no great desire to plan much of anything to entertain her guests.
Tess, already awake and waiting for her, helped her dress and had just finished pinning up her hair when Magnus entered.
She studied his reflection in the mirror and his furrowed brow. “Thank you, Tess. That will be all,” she said, rising from the dressing table. Whatever was on his mind, she felt certain it should be discussed in private.
He cast Tess a glance as she closed the door behind her.
"Lady Crittenden and the others are leaving this morning."
"It's just as well,” she said with a sigh. “I'd not been able to recognize the scent."
He nodded and clasped his hands behind his back. “Are you well?"
"I'm fine. My arm is a bit sore, but that's to be expected."
"Yes. Yes, I suppose it is."
She cocked her head to the side as she watched him. “You obviously have something on your mind. Care to tell me what it is? Or would you rather brood over a bit longer,” she said with a small smile.
With a rough chuckle, he took two strides across the room and pulled her into his arms. His kiss was slow and delicate.
"I should have arrived sooner, before you woke,” he said, kissing and nipping his way to her ear.
She sucked in a breath at the sharp tingling sensation racing over her skin as he pulled her earlobe into his mouth.
"You should never have left the bed."
"You needed your rest.” He moved back to her mouth, his lips faintly brushing across her skin.
With a grin, she nipped his lips then swirled her tongue around their edge. “I needed you."
On a groan, he pulled her against him tighter in a fierce embrace and covered her mouth hungrily. She clung to him as he continued his delicious assault, while his hands roamed over her body, touching the small of her back, her hip, her throat, her breast. She moaned, the pleasure, so exquisite she wished it would never end.
But it must. They had guests to see off.
"Magnus,” she murmured.
"I know, I know, but I cannot seem to get enough of you.” He held her head in his hands and delved his tongue deeper into her mouth, stealing the last of her breath with slow delicious strokes.
After a time, seconds, minutes, even hours, she couldn't be sure, he set her away from him, but thankfully, he hadn't
let go. She wasn't certain she'd remain standing if he did.
She shook her head, then shook it again. He chuckled low and warm. She adjusted her spectacles and cast him a false glare.
He stepped back, extending his arm. “Shall we see this lot off so we can finally have some peace?"
With a smile and a nod, she allowed him to escort her out of the room.
They'd hardly stepped into the hall, when Barstoke appeared, winded and panting. “My lord, the potting shed is on fire!"
"Stay here,” he said, and rushed to the stair.
"No, I'm going with you."
He stopped and gripped her shoulders. “I want you here, where it's safe."
She shook her head. “My safety is in numbers, and you'll need as many hands as you can get for a bucket brigade."
He looked as if he were about to argue, but pulled her to him and crushed her lips with his. Grabbing her hand, he tugged her along as they raced toward the gardens and the small potting shed.
Together they came to a halt in the garden, the flames leaping high into the sky. Magnus went rigid by her side.
She grabbed Mr. Roberts’ sleeve as he rushed past. “Is there anyone inside?"
"No, my lady. But the rest of yer things—"
"Damn my things, Mr. Roberts! Was anyone hurt?"
"No, ma'am,” he called, as he ran toward the lead of the bucket brigade.
She turned to her husband, still frozen in place. His hand had gone limp in hers. She stepped in front of him and clutched at his coat. “Magnus, look at me."
His empty gaze sickened her. The horrors he must be reliving brought tears to her eyes. They needed to join the brigade, but she could not leave him like this.
"We have to help put it out before it spreads,” she said, but received no response.
She cupped his face in her hands, and jerked his attention down to her. “No one is hurt, do you hear me? Everyone is fine."
He blinked and shook his head as if from a trance. “Agatha.” His trembling fingers brushed her lips.
"Yes, I'm here, darling, but we have to help."
His clear gaze shot to the chaos behind her, then to her. He grabbed her and leaned close. “Promise me, you'll stay far away from the flames.” He gave her a subtle shake. “Promise me!"