Catherine Coulter the Sherbrooke Series Novels 6-10 (9781101562123)

by Coulter, Catherine

  The hand that was on her throat an instant before was suddenly touching her breast. He leaped away from her, rolled off the bed, and came up, breathing hard, to stare down at the girl he loved, lying on her back in the middle of his bed, every naked delightful inch of her only two very soft muslin layers away from him.

  She ran her tongue over her bottom lip, an action that nearly made him howl. “You’re incredible, Jason.”

  “What? Oh.” He grabbed his dressing gown, but she came quickly up on her knees and pulled it from him. “I would like to stare at you for a while. I’ve never seen a naked man before and I’ve heard that every single inch of you is beautiful. I would like to see for myself that this is indeed a fact. Is that all right?”

  “No, it isn’t a good idea. If you look at me even another second, I will leap on you, and it will be all over for both of us.”

  “I think I’d like you to leap on me.”

  “No, there are consequences to leaping, consequences you wouldn’t like.”

  “What does it matter?”

  He could but stare at her.

  “You love me.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Then why can’t you be with me tonight? Why does it matter if we wait?”

  He said, his voice austere, like his father’s when he was set upon teaching one of his sons a lesson, “Because a girl is to be a virgin on her wedding night.”

  “Does that mean that you want a wedding night with me? Couldn’t we just pretend that this is our wedding night?”

  He was shaking, couldn’t help it. He was so wild with lust he didn’t know how he could put words together. He could actually feel his common sense being eaten away around the edges. He said, desperate now, “You want a wedding night now? But what if I get you pregnant? Such things happen, Judith, surely you know that. I can do things to lessen the risk, but—”

  “What?”

  He closed his eyes a moment. “I can withdraw from you before I spill my seed.”

  “Oh. Well, then.” She gave him a siren’s smile. He didn’t see it clearly, but he saw enough of it to nearly stutter himself into the floor. He said slowly, “Th-that would mean marriage.”

  “Yes, I suppose it would.”

  Jason knew he was ready for marriage, knew he wanted to marry her, and here she was, wanting him, eager for him, and she didn’t want to wait.

  Who cared?

  He was breathing hard when he pulled her up against him. She was soft and willing and her hair fell nearly to her waist, thick, wonderfully soft hair, hair as dark as her eyes, contrasting dramatically with her skin that was as white as a cloudless moon. And he said into her hair, “If I get you with child, then we will wed very soon, all right?”

  “Yes,” she said between kisses, “all right.”

  He was twenty-five, old enough not to be awkward or selfish or too fast, but it was difficult. When he had her naked, he wanted to take her in that instant, and he saw the invitation in her eyes, saw it clearly, knew that she wanted him, but he had to make this very nice for her. How could he do that when he was ready to explode? Her hands were all over him, and she was encouraging him, parting her legs to bring him closer against her. When he was trembling he was in such bad shape, she lifted her hips to bring him into her. Oh God, it was more than a man could take, but he sucked in a deep breath and told himself he had to hold back or he would be consigned to that group of pathetic dolts who lost their wits when a naked woman was lying beneath them, their legs spread. No, no, he had to stop thinking like that. He looked down at her, and knew this was her first time and he wasn’t about to muck it up. When his mouth was on her, she began shaking. Then she was sobbing, deep in her throat, hitting her fists against his shoulders. When she reached her orgasm, Jason looked at her face as his fingers now caressed her. Astonishment, that was the first thing he saw in her wide dark eyes, then tearing pleasure, and her eyes went wild and blind. He eased the rhythm of his fingers slowly, very slowly; he came over her and came into her, slow and deep. To his surprise, she began to move against him, drawing him deeper, and he nearly fell off the cliff when she cried out in pain. “Hold on to me, Judith. Just hold on.” He gritted his teeth, and went deep, deeper, and when he touched her womb, he couldn’t hold back any longer. He didn’t want to yell to the ceiling, someone would hear him. He managed to keep that in his brain, but it was difficult. He swallowed his cries, his body heaving over her, and then as suddenly, every thought in his head, every feeling that had raced through him—all of it was hovering around him, indistinct and blurred, like the softest of veils, and it was easy and fine, and he eased down on top of her.

  “You didn’t come out of me.”

  He froze. “No,” he said slowly, “I forgot.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” she whispered against his ear, “it doesn’t matter.”

  He managed to kiss her before he fell asleep beside her.

  WHEN JASON AWOKE just after sunrise, he was grinning like a fool. Delicious memories raced through him in an instant. He turned, but she was gone.

  Well, of course she was gone. He fell over onto his back, stretched, and wondered when she’d left him.

  Marriage to Judith McCrae. It would be a very good thing. He imagined, a fatuous smile on his face, making love to her every night, or perhaps twice or even three times a night, then waking up with her every morning. The good Lord knew that he could pleasure a woman in the mornings as well. Himself too. That was a fine image, a fine future for the both of them. He wondered if she’d stop trying to twist him up, keep him guessing about her feelings, keep him off-balance, as if she didn’t want him to know her all the way to her soul.

  Jason whistled while he bathed, whistled while he strode down the wide corridor to the stairs, there to take them two at a time, going down.

  At the bottom of the stairs stood James, Corrie just behind him.

  James said without preamble, “Good. You’re here. I told Corrie you were up with the servants. We’re here because the Virgin Bride visited Corrie last night. We left to come home immediately.”

  Corrie stepped forward, stood there at the foot of the stairs, staring up at him, her head cocked to the side, quiet for the moment. Finally, she said, “There is something different about you, Jason. Are you all right? You look rather vacant, and somehow immensely pleased with yourself.”

  Jason said not a word to that, just came down and hugged her to him. “My new little sister. The only thing is you’ve been my sister for fifteen years already. Now, both of you, come into the dining room, and tell me what the Virgin Bride had to say.” He held on to Corrie, even as he said to his brother, “I trust you have pleased my little sister.”

  James thought of her mouth on him, and coughed.

  Corrie immediately said, “Why are you asking him since I’m the object of the pleasing? Can’t I answer that?”

  “No, you cannot. Be quiet. James?”

  “I would say,” James said slowly, looking from his brother to his wife, “that the two of you have the same look on your faces.”

  “Oh dear,” Corrie said. “How is that possible? Jason, surely you haven’t—”

  James said, his voice so quiet not even the Virgin Bride could hear him, “Is Judith McCrae here?”

  “Yes, she is. Now, as to this look on my face, I ask that you both forget it. She has agreed to be my wife. I will fetch some tea from the kitchen. James, take your bride into the dining room.”

  “HAS JASON SHOWN you the infamous gardens with all those lovely shocking statues?”

  Judith’s eyes sparkled at Corrie’s question, but she looked around to make sure they were alone before she whispered, “You mean those lovely shocking statues that all appear to be having the time of their lives?”

  Corrie laughed. “Yes.” She drew a bit closer. “Which was your favorite?”

  There wasn’t a blush on either face. “The one where the man is kissing her in a way one would have to say is rather intimate.”


  Corrie gulped. “Ah, what a remarkable coincidence. There are at least fifteen statues and yet we both like the same one. Yes, that one is my favorite as well. It wasn’t before I married James, but—oh goodness, this isn’t at all proper, is it? Well, the fact is, I really didn’t understand what the male statue was doing and what that meant, if you know what I mean.”

  “Now I know exactly what you mean,” Judith said, then lowered her head. “Since Jason tells James everything you must know that I went to Jason’s bedchamber last night and seduced him, but the fact of the matter is—”

  “The fact is that if I’d only had the chance, I would have tried to lock myself in a small warm room with James as well. It doesn’t matter. You and Jason will be married soon now.” Corrie leaned closer. “The truth is that there was simply never the opportunity, blast it. Nor did James, curse him, give me the least little hint.” She sat back, smiled, a soft smile that held memories for the rest of her days.

  “Will you stand beside me, Corrie?”

  “I should be delighted. Is this wedding to be soon or will your Aunt Arbuckle insist upon a long engagement and huge numbers of people spilling out of St. Paul’s?”

  “I want it to be very soon.” Judith blushed, actually blushed. She pressed her palms against her cheeks. “Oh goodness, all I can think about is sitting on Jason’s bed, staring at him, and he’s standing there perfectly naked. Ah, he looks so very fine.”

  “Oh my,” said Corrie.

  “It was remarkable.”

  Corrie felt both embarrassed and wicked, a delightful combination, but she knew that anyone could walk in on them, and she didn’t want to have to face Jason after hearing about his midnight encounter with Judith. She cleared her throat. “Tell me about how my mother-in-law finally buried the old bat.”

  When James walked in a few minutes later, it was to hear Corrie and Judith laughing. That pleased him, and he smiled even as he said from the open doorway, “I have come to fetch both of you. Father wants to tell you where all the guards are stationed here at Northcliffe. He doesn’t want any of you getting accidentally shot.” He paused a moment. “Ah, he also wants to hear if either of you have any more ideas, even though he swears that you’re weak-headed, Corrie, what with your tale of the Virgin Bride visiting you. However, he is loathe to let me out of his sight, so what is one to believe?”

  Corrie jumped to her feet. “Yes, I want to hear what your father has to say. How many more guards are there?”

  “Two more.”

  “He hasn’t told me to my face that I’m weak-headed. Do you think he will?”

  “My father is an excellent diplomat. You are still too new to the family to be blasted. However, now that I think of it, your sneer and my father’s aren’t all that different.” He gave each girl an arm.

  Lady Arbuckle wasn’t present, Judith telling them that her aunt was resting quite happily in her lovely bedchamber, drinking tea and eating toast.

  Annabelle Trelawny was there, as she was nearly every day now. Today, though, her sweet smile was tinged with worry. She said, “I hope you are not displeased at my presence, my lord, but William believes that I have a fine brain. He wanted to see if I could be of any assistance at all. Now, this dream of Corrie’s.”

  “It wasn’t a dream,” Alexandra said.

  “Ha,” Douglas said.

  “The point of the whole thing,” Corrie said, sitting forward, her hands clasped in her lap, “is that the Virgin Bride made it clear to me it is James who is in danger. Then she sort of faded away.”

  “Then why was I shot at?” Douglas said.

  “I don’t have an answer to that, sir.”

  “It’s perfectly obvious that she would come to you since you’re now James’s wife,” said Alexandra. “It doesn’t mean she isn’t worried about Douglas as well, but since you are now James’s wife, he must be your first concern.”

  Corrie said, “I wonder why she didn’t tell me who was behind this?”

  No one had an answer for that. Alexandra said, “I have sometimes thought there are things she doesn’t know. In other words, a ghost isn’t omniscient.”

  “But she knew you were taken by Georges Cadoudal,” Douglas said, then looked like he wanted to shoot himself. He closed down tighter than a clam, didn’t say another word.

  Annabelle’s lovely white brow furrowed in concentration. “Why wouldn’t any young man want to kill the people he believed responsible for his father’s death?”

  Douglas said, “That’s a good point, Mrs. Trelawny, but Georges and I weren’t enemies; I had nothing to do with his assassination. Surely his son must know that. But it hasn’t seemed to matter.”

  “And now James has been added to the list. Why on earth would Georges’s son want to kill James? They must be about the same age. They’ve never met.”

  The discussion continued until Hollis cleared his throat. “Cook wishes to feed all of you now. My lord, my lady, you will please rise and come into the dining room.”

  “Ah, William,” Annabelle said as Hollis assisted her, “you are such a masterful speaker. Wellington should beg you to deal with those ridiculous French. Can you imagine, they’re rebelling again?”

  “Oh yes,” said Hollis. “The French must needs fight against themselves; they must needs fight against others. Disagreement and perversity sing through their blood, poor blighters.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  The Devil gets up to the belfry by the vicar’s skirts.

  THOMAS FULLER

  IT WAS THE end of November. In England, in Corrie’s experience, that meant unrelenting cold, so much wind you couldn’t keep a bonnet on your head, and endless invading dampness that made your bones ache and your teeth chatter.

  But not today. Today in southern England, at least, the sun was high overhead and clouds were fat and white against a brilliant blue sky. There wasn’t a hint of fog, not a breath of wind, only abundant sweet fresh air that wafted about your head, making you smile and breathe deeply.

  “Just incredible,” Corrie said to one of the hunting dogs that trotted at her side, his tail a waving flag, as she walked toward the stable where James, Jason, and a half dozen stable lads were breeding the new mare to Bad Boy.

  In her pocket she carried the small derringer James had bought her two days before. She’d practiced firing it, and James admitted yesterday afternoon, after watching her shoot for some ten minutes, that she was a natural. He sounded peeved about her skill, and that made her grin at him, wickedness overflowing in that grin, and he picked her up and whirled her around and around until she was dizzy and laughing so hard she could barely hang on. Then he’d carried her into a small maple copse and laid her down on his coat beneath a fir tree. Ah, so very nice that was. So it had been on the cold side. Who cared? It wasn’t cold at all today. Hmmm.

  Corrie was smiling even as she quickened her pace. She heard the mare whinny, heard Bad Boy stomping. She came to the paddock, leaned her arms against the wooden railing, and looked toward James.

  No, she saw immediately, it wasn’t James, it was Jason. How could she have been deceived even for an instant, no matter that he was standing some thirty feet away, examining Bad Boy’s front hoof?

  Where was James? He should be here. But then she knew, and her heart plummeted. He was in danger.

  She shouted, “Jason! Where is James?”

  Jason dropped Bad Boy’s hoof and strode over to her. “Good morning, Corrie. I expected James to be here before now. He’s probably in the estate room reviewing documents with Father. He’ll be here sooner or later. Stay, Corrie, James would want you to.”

  She was torn. James was on his way here. Very well, she’d wait. She settled herself on the paddock railing. Two minutes passed. “I can’t do this. Something’s wrong.” Jason, who’d been breathing a heartfelt sigh of relief, froze in his tracks. She said to the back of his head, “Forgive me, Jason, but I’m worried. I’ll go look for him. I’m afraid. You must be careful too, Ja
son. This man who is after James, he might not know that you are not he.”

  Jason turned and walked to her, squeezed her arm. “Yes, I know, and yes, I understand you very well. I will be surrounded by people. But I wish you would stay here, where James knows you are. He’s probably still in the house; when he comes, he’ll bring Judith here with him.” He grinned up at her there, still seated on the railing. “If she’s going to be the wife of a horse breeder, she should understand what it’s all about.” Then he took her hands in his and separated them, held them tightly. “Don’t, Corrie. Everything will be all right, I promise you.”

  “But you can’t know, you—”

  “Ah, Mrs. Trelawny is here in her very smart landau. Excellent. Stay still, Corrie, and stop worrying.” He gave her another pat and shouted, “Lovejoy, let’s see how the mare’s doing. That’s right, that’s right, bring her out, slowly, SLOWLY! All right, that’s fine. Hold her still now.”

  Bad Boy wanted the mare desperately. Jason had covered Bad Boy’s front hooves with soft cotton stockings so he wouldn’t hurt her. Corrie felt for the derringer in her pocket and was reassured. She watched, paying no attention to the trembling horses, her ears alert for James’s voice. Where the devil was he? Was he with Judith? She looked up to see Jason pull his watch out of his pocket, say something to Lovejoy, then come striding toward her. She would have sworn there was worry on his face, but when he looked at her, it was gone.

  “I have an appointment with one of the Bow Street Runners. Stay here, trust James to come for you, I mean it. It’s important you remain here, Corrie.”

  She watched him nearly break into a run toward the hall. Something was wrong, very wrong indeed. She was to stay here? Why, in heaven’s name?