This was how it was supposed to be between a man and woman. He loved her. And she loved him. Every climax was a new bond between them.He would taste her another time. Soon.
Chapter Nineteen
Julian smiled at Cathryn’s lovely form outlined beneath the blankets. He’d worn her out and she deserved to sleep in. She’d been a tigress in bed, waking him in the night to appease her own needs, and responding to him eagerly when he caressed her at dawn. He’d found the perfect mate, and part of him yearned to snuggle back under the covers and lose himself in her again.
But his rumbling stomach needed attention more than his loins at the moment. Breakfast at Gorham House was an event, with Charles holding court over the gentry of the neighborhood while feeding them eggs and ham. The man had his hand in every pie in the district, offering counsel and funds for a variety of local projects. Business was conducted from nine to eleven in the breakfast room, with an elaborate, never-diminishing buffet.
Julian downed a plateful of kippers, sausage and eggs before entering into the lively conversation about uses for steam engines on farms.
At ten, a note came from Cathryn.
My dear Julian,
I’ll take a tray in our room, while I read your translations and let my tender muscles rest. Please come for me when Charles is ready to give us the grand tour.
Your loving Cathryn.
P.S. You are magnificent.
Julian smiled as he tucked the note in his pocket. He would give her an hour and then ask Charles to give him an hour before the tour. That would give him time to soothe her tender places, or make her even more tender. Now that he had a full belly, his own muscle aches were more pronounced. His lower back, thighs and shoulders all burned from last night’s delightful exertions. A nap after lunch sounded ideal.
Fiona’s voice broke through his reverie. “Good morning, gentleman. Have you left any for me?”
He rose with the other men, wondering if Giles had come with her. She strode through the room in tight-fitting green silk, stopping to lift the lid on several silver dishes before she headed to Charles’ side. Julian glanced at the others and saw them all gaping at her. Her pale golden hair hung loose around her shoulders, a silky veil men found impossible to ignore. She complained the fine texture would not hold a style properly, but no man ever objected to her wearing it down. She bussed Charles in the French manner before turning to Julian.
“Good morning, Lord Ahlquist. Always a pleasure.”
She leaned in and touched her cheek to his, filling his space with her familiar rose fragrance. The formerly treasured scent cloyed at him unexpectedly, and he yearned for a cleansing whiff of citrus. “Good morning, Mrs. Aubrey. You’re early. Did Giles come with you?”
“Yes. He’s waiting in the front hall, cranky as ever. You’d think I’d asked him to swim the channel for all the grumbling he did.”
“You must have left before dawn.”
“Daybreak. He slept most of the ride.”
Giles’ sciatica must be acting up, and the pain is worst early in the morning. Best not to leave him standing about, and it gives me an excuse to return to Cathryn. “I’ll see you at the midday meal.” He bowed and left the room, surprisingly eager to leave Fiona’s presence.
Giles slumped in a wingchair just outside the dining room, positively gray from pain. He grimaced as he started to rise.
“Don’t get up.” Julian crouched to meet the man face-to-face. “Dear Lord, Giles. You should have stayed in London. I can live without you for a week.”
“It’s your father, milord.” Giles glanced up at his niece, who hovered nearby. “His valet sent word that he’s been cleaning his guns and drinking heavy.”
Damn.
“And he’s been muttering about Mr. Darbonne and Fiona.”
Double damn. Claret, bullets and jealousy made poor bedfellows. “I should go to him.”
“I’m afraid that might be necessary.”
“Lady Sibley and I shall go at once.” He rose and spoke to Giles’ niece. “Good morning, Helena. How are you faring this day?”
“Better than uncle, but it was a wicked trip.”
“Wicked?”
“Mrs. Aubrey took the reins herself, milord, two hours out of London.” Few women could handle a team of four. Julian wasn’t certain it was even legal.
“Woman drives like the devil’s chasing her.” Giles groaned as he stood. “I’ll wash up and be ready in half an hour.”
“No. You’ll stay here. I’ll go with Lady Sibley.” Giles opened his mouth to protest. “I’ll ask Melina to be easy on you.”
“You can take the baths, uncle. That always lessens your pain.” Helena took his hand protectively.
Giles caved easily, a sure sign he felt as bad as he appeared. “I’ll stay a day or two.”
“The baths are likely free now.” Julian squeezed his valet’s shoulder gently. “Stay until you feel fit to travel. I’ll ask George to attend me in London.”
Five minutes later, Julian opened his suite door to the most charming scene he had ever witnessed. Cathryn was on a small pedestal wearing only a white sheet loosely draped, while Melina and a maid fashioned it into a Greek chiton. Giggles filled the air and Julian caught enticing glimpses of Cathryn’s full breasts and creamy thighs as the sheet moved.
A surprising pang of jealousy hit him—Melina had seen Cathryn naked and might desire her. Well, who wouldn’t? Cathryn is a goddess, perfect for lovemaking. The threat was short-lived, as the air was redolent with good humor, not sexual tension. And there was not another man in sight.
“Darling, come in.” Cathryn beckoned when she caught sight of him. “Melina wants us to read one of your Aristophanes this very evening.”
“I’m determined to ogle your gams.” Melina turned with a wide grin, and Julian remembered why he kept returning to Gorham House. It was fun here.
“I could fashion a costume for you,” Cathryn added. “As modest as you like.”
He hated wearing anything with a skirt—they invariably made him look foolish, and he would not risk Cathryn losing respect for him. He was almost relieved to have such a good excuse to refuse. “I’m afraid I need to return to London this afternoon. My father’s in a bad way.”
“Oh dear. I’ll come with you, of course.”
He would love to have her with him on the ride, but once he arrived in the city he would have to see to his father, and that could take some time. And if he went alone, he could take a turn driving the carriage. It wouldn’t do to have Fiona best him in everything and it had been ages since he’d managed four horses. “I’ll be occupied with him until he settles down, love.”
Melina chimed in unasked. “Find him another woman to spend money on—someone as pretty as Fiona.”
A good thought. Lilith had a comely sister, Agatha, who might be unattached, or willing to jump ship for a marquis. “You stay here, Cathryn. I’ll try to be back tomorrow evening.” He glanced at the leather volume of his translation on a nearby chair. “Lysistrata is mostly female parts and very amusing. I should look forward to returning to its production.”
* * * * *
Late the next afternoon, Julian perched high above the ground beside his coachman and held the reins of a fresh team of prime horseflesh. His hat was in the carriage and the wind in his hair felt glorious on this unusually warm autumn day. He’d forgotten how exhilarating it was to handle the leads; the power of the animals was both invigorating and awe-inspiring.
He was pleased with his handling of the task in London. His father sobered up for the introduction to Agatha and seemed taken with her. Julian doubted the two would leave her flat for some days. Darbonne had wisely left town to visit a cousin, quickly solving the immediate problem.
Now Julian was anxious to arrive at Gorham House in time to see Cathryn before she changed for dinner. He wanted to be there to help her into the new lace stockings he’d brought with him from London. He had jewels, as well, and the thought of C
athryn clad only in the gifts he brought made him grin in lusty anticipation. After dinner, there would be the play acted out for his benefit, with the ladies clad only in thin tunics. What an evening it promised to be.
A lone rider ahead brought his thoughts back to the road, and the man’s beaver hat and green coat struck a familiar chord. “Damn. It’s Hedges.” He handed off the reins to Holmes. “Stay close to him.” He reached for his dagger, but his hand faltered. You wouldn’t want his death on your conscience. A flash of Cathryn’s sweet voice stilled him, and he reached for the whip instead.
Crack! The man’s hat flicked off into the shadows of the ditch, and Hedges turned with astonished eyes. Julian cheered his own excellent marksmanship, then yelled, “Pull up, we need a word.” I need to pummel you with my bare hands.
“Damn you, Ahlquist.” A moment of panic played out on the man’s scarred face, and Julian turned to watch as his coach passed the slowing rider. Hedges jerked the reins and his horse reared up awkwardly, far off balance, knocking Hedges off to the right. A long, loud whinny tore through the air. Julian stopped breathing as he witnessed the horse landing on the man. Unable to right itself, the horse fell twice more on the now silent rider.
Julian’s coach came to a halt a hundred feet past the scene, and he climbed down and ran towards the baron. The panicked horse dove into the ditch, dragging the tall man whose foot was caught in the right stirrup. A moment later the bloodied mare lunged up the embankment without her charge.
A footman grabbed the steed, and Julian stood back to allow him room to calm the horse. Moans from the ditch drew Julian’s attention, and he slid reluctantly down the slick embankment.
Percival Hedges lay in an awkward position near the bottom of the gully. The shadows were thick, but Julian gasped at the image. The man’s legs splayed at odd angles and small pools of blood reflected in the remaining daylight. It was a gruesome sight, and Julian’s stomach roiled. “Stand back, Danny,” he called to his footman, a boy of only eighteen.
“Damn you, Ahlquist. You caused my horse to rear. I think he crushed my legs.”
Hedges’ voice was weak but steady. Julian marveled that he was alive at all. “I asked you to pull up—you held the reins.” He was not responsible for the man’s poor horsemanship.
“Damn you to hell.”
Julian was amazed the man could speak so well. He crouched down beside him and saw the dark welts of Cathryn’s scratches, and a neck wound that appeared to be festering. “Save your strength. I’ll send my coach for help.” He’d intended to kill the bastard but not with his staff looking on.
Julian called out directions to his coachman before turning back to Hedges. “What are you doing on this road?” The carriage pulled away, leaving him alone with his enemy.
“I have business with your whore.”
He nearly drew his dagger and ended this charade, but pity trumped anger, and something in the man’s tone stopped him. “I’d kill you for that, but we both know you won’t make it out of this ditch alive.”
“Did she tell you she shagged the surgeon while my cousin lay dying in the next room, only three days before his death?”
Julian wanted to choke him, but he let the man have his say. Nothing was going to save him. “She tells a different version, and I choose to believe hers.” It was true, his faith in Cathryn was absolute. How like Hedges to sow discontent at death’s door.
“I nearly tossed her off when I found out, but once I realized she wasn’t breeding I knew she was sterile.”
Julian did not respond, fighting not to let the statement take hold. He searched the ground for a grassy place to rest while the man died. His wound was throbbing like the dickens from handling the horses and sliding down the hill. He welcomed the distraction from the malicious thoughts Hedges was tossing about, and he shot back with one of his own. “You seem fond enough of fine young men, don’t you want an heir?”
His comment missed the mark. “You can’t guarantee a boy, and the idea of a girl child makes my stomach turn.”
Perhaps he should end this now, he had heard enough. However, there were a few questions he would like answered. He eased down onto the damp ground and asked evenly, “Why did you attack Cathryn?”
“She’s my wife.”
He fought to keep his temper in check. “She’s not your wife.”
“The courts say she is.” His voice was weakening. The courts were irrelevant now.
“Are you baiting me to quicken your death? Because I will gladly—”
“The Digenis Acritas? Were you bluffing?” The words came out in a rush, as if Hedges had just remembered the question foremost on his mind.
Julian thought about what his priest would advise in this situation, and decided the baron was already destined for hell and deserved no mercy. “The finished translation is in my study.” Julian did own a translation, although it was in old English. It was a small recompense for all the grief Hedges had wrought.
Hedges raised his arm a few inches, then it fell with a soft thud. “Da…” With a gurgling sound coming from his throat as he attempted a final invective, the thin man’s last breath failed him.
The chill of death now filled the ditch, and Julian shivered as he rose to climb the embankment.
“It was too good an end for you,” he said as he set himself to rights. “But I’m glad the deed is done.” He stared down at the broken body of the man he loathed, wishing the last ten minutes erased from his memory. “She was never your wife.”
The wind was howling when Julian arrived at Gorham House an hour later, an eerie reminder of the gruesome scene he’d witnessed. He planned to sweep Cathryn to their chambers and have a private commemoration of their vanquished foe’s dire fate. Hedges no longer impeded their union. That deserved a bottle of champagne and a day in bed.
The dinner processional was crossing the hallway as the footman opened the door and reached for Julian’s cloak. Fiona left Melina’s side to rush to his. “We’ve been concerned—” Her voice cut off as her eyes dropped to his tan leather gloves, now heavily stained with blood and mud. “Are you injured?” She hovered protectively over him as the other guests collected around them.
“No. Where’s Cathryn?” He stripped the gloves away and handed them to the servant.
“Julian?” Cathryn exited the salon and rushed towards him. “We’ve just sent a man out to look for you.” Her gaze also went to the bloody gloves. “Are you hurt—is it your wound?”
“No, it’s not my blood,” He noticed the grisly gloves for the first time since he’d helped move the body. “It belongs to Hedges. He’s dead.”
All activity in the vast hallway came to an immediate halt. Every pair of eyes turned to him with interest.
“Hedges, dead?” she asked with alarm as she reached his side, casting Fiona a cutting glance that backed her off half a step. He needed to be alone with her, so he could explain fully, but not while he had the stink of death clinging to him.
“Yes, his horse crushed him. Ghastly accident on the road half an hour south of here. I must wash up.” He headed for the stairway, expecting Cathryn to follow, and the small crowd parted to let him pass.
She stood rooted where he left her, and he turned to see a queer look cross her face. “An accident?”
He realized everyone was looking at him in the same fashion, with a mix of disbelief, disgust and respect.
They thought he’d killed the baron.
“I didn’t murder him,” he said firmly to the small assembly. “His mare reared and fell on him, landing him in a ditch with a crushed spine and two broken legs.” He started to turn for the stairs again. “I’ll answer your questions after I bathe.”
Cathryn and Fiona huddled together, and the sight irked him. Neither of them believed him. Cathryn pulled away and glided towards him as she said softly, “Let me attend you.”
The group was gawking at him, and his temper exploded. “I didn’t kill the bastard!” He charged up the
stairs with Cathryn on his tail.
“Julian, wait, I believe you.” She reached him in the privacy of the upstairs hallway, and he recoiled at her touch.
“You hesitated.” He was growing angrier by the second as he strode towards their chamber.
“I’m sorry. The gloves…”
“I admit the circumstances are damning.” He threw open the door and she followed him in. He headed straight for the washbasin and poured water into the bowl. “I expected more loyalty from you.” He struggled to contain his rage as she came to his side and held a towel for him.
“I’m sorry.”
“You questioned me in public.” He scrubbed his hands but the bloodstains resisted. He washed twice before his hands were clean, feeling like a male version of Lady Macbeth as he scrubbed the damned spots. “You made me appear a fool.”
She watched him with wide eyes, and her hand shook as she passed him the towel. “I only…” She appeared frightened of him, and it stoked his fires rather than quenched them.
“Don’t be afraid of me, damn it!” he snapped and instantly regretted it. He threw down the towel as she backed away. Shrugging out of his coat, he approached her in his shirt and saw that the ends of his white sleeves were stained crimson and brown. She gasped at the sight, and he yanked at his cravat, needing to have his shirt off so he could hold her and feel whole again. There were blood and mud stains on his arms, and he tossed the shirt aside in frustration.
“Where’s my man?” he barked as he crossed the room to the bathing chamber. “Send him in and wait for me here.”
Cathryn’s chin quivered as he slammed the door behind him. She sank into a chair as Giles knocked and entered, passing her without a word. She heard low voices as the bath water began to run, and she felt a wave of relief that Julian was out of the room.
She’d never wanted to be away from him before, and the realization that she was indeed afraid of him was an emotional punch to the belly. His temper frightened her, and she knew him capable of killing Percival. All the instances of violence that surrounded him played out in her head—the incident at Oxford, the hole in the wall, the thrown dagger and now Hedges was dead.
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