Her face was radiant. “It’s been too long.”
Falcon set her feet to the carpet, but kept a tight hold on her hand. He urged her up the stairs that led to the crenellated roof. Then he pulled her to the center of the tower, threw back his head, and shouted, “I love this woman!”
Tory laughed with delight. “You are a madman!”
“It runs in the blood.”
His arms wrapped around her and she leaned back against him, gazing up at the stars. “This is our eternity, Falcon.”
“That’s how long I shall love you.”
“There’s no moon tonight. Are you sure you don’t want to go roving?”
“I’m sure. There is no place I would rather spend this night than in my own bed.”
“I believe you.” She rubbed her bum against his thighs. “You have the hard evidence to prove it!”
“You are a saucy wench, Tory Palmer Fuller, but of course that’s the reason I wed you. Let’s go down, I can no longer wait to see you again in your corset and drawers.”
“Anticipation is an aphrodisiac,” she teased.
Back in their chamber they found their bridal supper awaiting them. Falcon picked up a raw oyster and winked. “Speaking of aphrodisiacs—”
“I think I can resist.”
“More for me,” he teased.
Tory investigated the silver dish that was being heated by a spirit lamp. It held delicious melted Brie cheese and she dipped in a toast point and took a bite. “This is ambrosia.”
“Food for the gods. Tonight I feel like a god.”
“Do you remember when I went to your masquerade as a goddess?”
He raised a dark brow. “Did you wear green?”
“I did! Falcon gave me some green silk shot through with silver threads. I loved it so much…. That’s the reason I chose green today.”
“It’s your color, my beauty. You should always wear green.”
“Can you afford to indulge me with silk dresses?”
“I’m not exactly a pauper, Tory.”
“You will be when I get through with you,” she teased.
Tory tasted the crab with melted shallot butter then sampled the beef brisket with red wine gravy. “It all tastes divine, but I can’t wait for the dessert.”
“Me neither,” Falcon said with a wicked leer. He put some fruit trifle in a small porcelain dish, picked up a spoon, and moved around the table. He lifted Tory into his lap and fed her trifle alternated with kisses. “Mmm, you taste of pears, almonds, and cream cake, an irresistible combination.”
They quickly lost interest in the food as Falcon began to undress his bride. He admired her corset and drawers, but his fingers soon began to unfasten the strings so that her luscious breasts spilled into his hands. It wasn’t long before her drawers followed the corset and his lips caressed every inch of her warm, satiny skin.
Tory began to unfasten his shirt. “I want to see your tattoos,” she whispered as she helped divest him of his garments. When they were both nude, he clasped her tenderly in his arms and quoted from the Song of Solomon: “Let her kiss me with the kisses of her mouth…your lips are like a thread of scarlet…honey and milk are under your tongue…your navel is like a round goblet.”
The Song of Solomon seemed most apt for a reverend’s daughter, so Victoria began where he stopped. “His cheeks are as a bed of spices…his belly as bright ivory overlaid with sapphires…his legs are as pillars of marble.”
Falcon carried her to the bed. Tory’s pulse beat wildly; her eyes feasted on the raptors displayed on his powerful forearms as he pulled the velvet curtains so they were enclosed in their own private world. It seems like forever since he made love to me, then when I thought I had lost him to death, I feared I would never feel his arms about me again. “Love me, Falcon!”
He kissed her for a full hour, then played with her hair and her body for another hour before he made love to her. He enjoyed the love play as much as she did. Finally, he thrust into her silken sheath and the throbbing fullness inside her set her whole body a-shiver. She loved his powerful maleness. Everything about him was hard as rock—his arms, his chest, his thighs, all corded with solid muscle. When his shudder came, it was so intense it entered her and she shuddered also, becoming one with him.
Falcon held her for a full hour after the loving, savoring the afterglow, whispering tender love words, enjoying the way she clung to him, pressing her lips against his throat. “My heart overflows with love for you, Tory.”
Finally, he watched as she drifted into sleep, her arms entwined about his neck as if she wanted to be sure he would not disappear again. He smiled into the darkness, completely content. We are soul mates forever.
The next morning Tory lay supine, cradled between Falcon’s legs while they talked. “The money we would spend going to London for a honeymoon trip would be better spent on Bodiam, I’ve decided. London in winter isn’t very appealing. Let’s put it off until next year.”
“Are you sure, love? I thought you wanted a new wardrobe.”
“I can design the dresses myself and have a Hawkhurst sewing woman make the clothes.”
“This practical side of you is something new to me,” he teased.
“Wait until you see my domesticated side. I have the whole week planned. I want all the servants to help me clean the cobwebs and dust from every area of the castle. All the flagstone floors of the chambers and corridors must be mopped. I even have a job for you.”
“Ah, I suspected there would be a bloody fly in the ointment.”
“I’ll put you in charge of the high windows. Any that are broken or cracked must be replaced; the rest washed with vinegar.”
“God help me, you issue orders like a sergeant major.”
“Well, I am the mistress of Bodiam.”
“Aye, and I am still the master. Let me prove it to you.” He rolled her beneath him and took possession of her mouth. Tory dissolved into laughter and allowed him to have his way with her.
Two hours later, Victoria led a mop-and-bucket brigade through the chambers of the top floor, since they were the ones that had been most neglected.
The following day, Victoria and the castle staff cleaned the next floor down and the day after that they tackled the main floor chambers of Bodiam.
Tory chose the long corridor that led to the round tower. On her hands and knees she mopped the flagstones, methodically moving her knee cushion backward as each section became clean.
When she reached the end, she sat back on her heels to admire her handiwork. Suddenly, she blinked and then rubbed her eyes. At the far end of the corridor she saw a leopard coming toward her. “Pandora!” Tory watched in amazement as the big cat turned and padded back the way she had come and then disappeared.
Tory got up off her knees and began to run. She climbed the spiral staircase of the round tower, calling Falcon’s name.
Her husband was on a tall ladder cleaning the windows of their chamber. “What’s amiss, sweetheart?”
“Falcon, you may not believe this, but I’ve just seen Pandora’s ghost!”
He came down the ladder and stared at her intently. Tory was so fey and attuned to mystical impressions from the past that he believed the things she told him. “Where was she?”
“Pandora was in the long corridor on the ground floor. That was the exact same place that I first saw her, when she almost frightened me to death.”
Falcon took Tory’s hand and they descended the stairs together. “She padded toward me, then turned and went back, then vanished. Has she ever appeared to you?”
“Only in my dreams, I’m afraid.”
“Why did she appear to me? There has to be a reason.”
Falcon was alarmed. He hoped Victoria wasn’t about to follow her back into the shadows of the past.
Tory’s eyes widened. “The treasure! She guards a treasure!”
Falcon took her hands into his. “What do you mean?”
She gazed into his bold
black eyes. “When you were dying, you told me you had hidden a treasure and that you wanted me to have it. Somewhere there is a large iron chest filled with solid gold reales that you marauded from a Spanish galleon!”
Falcon recoiled. “Did I sink the galleon?”
“No, no, I swear you did not, though you told me that sadly she sank on her return voyage. It is no wonder you felt compelled to equip the new ship with lifeboats.”
“You think the treasure is hidden somewhere in this corridor?”
“I do! But I’ve just mopped the entire length. I cannot imagine where it could be hidden. Let’s search.”
They moved together slowly, looking closely at the floor and running their hands over the stone walls. When they found so sign of a hidden compartment, they turned around and searched the entire length again. They found nothing.
“Falcon, only you know where the treasure is hidden.”
“Sweetheart, if there was ever gold hidden here, I fear it is long gone. You are speaking of events of a hundred years ago.”
“Falcon, stop talking. Listen to your inner voice. All you have to do is open your mind.”
He closed his eyes and concentrated. He stood there for long minutes as if he were in a deep trance. Eventually he opened his eyes and moved with purpose down the corridor. He paced off thirty-nine steps, then he halted and knelt down, placing his palms on the flagstone in front of him.
Victoria came up behind him. “Do you remember something?”
“Yes, the iron chest is buried beneath this flagstone.”
“Falcon, that’s amazing. I knew you had the knowledge.”
“Stay right here. I’ll get de Burgh and a crowbar.”
It took the two men the better part of an hour to pry the huge flagstone loose and, using the iron crowbar as a lever, lift it from where it had lain for a hundred years.
All three of them tried to lift the iron chest from where it had been buried, but it was far too heavy. Finally, Falcon broke the lock with the long iron tool and he lifted the lid.
Tory sat cross-legged on the floor giddy with joy as Falcon scooped gold reales into her lap. “Please tell me it’s real?”
“Its value is beyond your wildest dreams, my love.”
“Will there be enough money to restore Bodiam?”
“Twice over, I warrant!”
“You mean there will be lots left over?”
De Burgh laughed. “You couldn’t spend this in a lifetime.”
“Can we send my brother Edmund to Paris, France, to study art?”
“Absolutely!”
“Oh dear, that would mean Mother wouldn’t be able to stay at the priory, if Edmund was no longer the reverend.”
Falcon grinned. “We’ll buy the priory as a gift for her.”
Tory jumped up and threw her arms about Falcon’s neck and dozens of gold reales rolled across the flagstones. “This means we can go to London!”
“I thought you said London in winter wasn’t very appealing.”
“I’ve changed my mind! I can’t think of anything more romantic than a honeymoon in London, buying antiques for Bodiam.”
“Indeed, madam?” He masked his amusement and with a straight face demanded, “What makes you think you will decide how I spend my treasure?”
“Because it isn’t your treasure, it’s mine! You gave it to me a hundred years ago, you damned pirate!”
Laughing, he took her in his arms and kissed her soundly. “Have it, sweetheart. I don’t need it. You are my treasure.”
“And you are my Peregrine Falcon. I love you with all my heart.”
THE NAKED LAIRD
SALLY MAC KENZIE
CHAPTER 1
Eleanor, Countess of Kilgorn, sank deeper into the copper slipper tub. After the long carriage ride, the hot water felt wonderful. The knot in her back began to loosen.
But not the knot in her stomach. That stayed hard and tight. She closed her eyes and tried to take a deep breath.
All the long ride from Scotland, she’d had this leaden knot in her belly. She’d wanted to turn back each mile they’d rolled farther into this flat, tame, unnatural land. She didn’t belong here at this benighted house party, among the English ton. She belonged back home, amid the crags and lochs, safe at Pentforth Hall.
She gripped the sides of the tub. But the Hall wasn’t safe anymore, thanks to that worm Pennington. That slimy bastard. Why had Ian hired him? Couldn’t he have found a more suitable—a less randy—estate manager when sweet old Mr. Lawrence retired? Did he take some cruel delight in torturing her? Did he—
Good God. She jerked and some water sloshed over onto the floor. This was England, close to London. Surely Ian…? He wouldn’t be at this gathering, would he? Was that why she’d been invited? So the Sassenach could snicker at her and watch the Earl of Kilgorn publicly discard his inconvenient wife?
She forced her fingers to release their death grip on the tub. No, of course not. Ian would decline any invitation that included her. He must have as little desire to see her as she did to see him.
“The footmen were right braw, weren’t they, milady—for Sassenach, that is?” Annie, her young maid, grinned and handed her the soap. “Did ye see how the one with the blue eyes looked at me?”
“No, I didn’t.” Annie wasn’t going to be chasing after Lord Motton’s footmen, was she? This house party would be bad enough without that. “I’m not certain your mother would care to hear you taking note of Lord Motton’s footmen, Annie.”
“Oh, Ma wouldna mind. She kens I have eyes in my head.” Annie snorted, wrinkling her nose as she looked around the room. “And right now I see this wee little mouse hole of a room. I’d have thought ye’d have a grander bedchamber, milady.”
The room was…cozy. The four-poster bed took up most of the space. “It’s perfectly adequate for me.”
“But yer a countess. Ye deserve better.”
“Don’t be daft.” A countess without an earl was more a figure of fun than respect. She only hoped everyone wouldn’t gawk at her. Her stomach twisted. Perhaps it was hunger as much as nerves. It had been hours since they’d eaten. “Didn’t you say you were going down to see about tea?”
“Aye, that I did.” Annie glanced in the mirror and smoothed her skirt.
“Tea, Annie. Only tea. Don’t be looking at the footmen.”
Annie laughed. “Ye worry worse than my ma.”
Nell sighed as the door closed and she turned back to face the hearth. She probably did worry more than Martha—the woman had raised five daughters, while Nell hadn’t managed to birth even the one poor bairn she’d been gifted with.
She swirled her fingers through the bathwater. What would her life have been like if she hadn’t lost the baby?
She’d have a daughter—or a son—now, a sturdy youth of ten, a child with quick strong limbs, a ready smile, and a sharp wit who’d spend hours climbing trees and swimming in Kilgorn Loch. She smiled. Surely she’d have other children as well—two or even three more. She and Ian—
What was she thinking? She detested the man. He’d never mourned their poor bairn—he’d just wanted to get busy making another. He certainly hadn’t wasted any time after she’d left finding another female to warm his bed.
Well, all right—not his bed at the castle. He hadn’t brought a woman into his home, but that was a distinction without a difference. He’d visited plenty of Sassenach beds in London. He was a man—he’d only one thing on his mind.
She rubbed the soap vigorously. He was just like Pennington. That cod’s-head had had his arm around her waist when Mr. MacNeill had barged into the library. For once the butler had actually seen something of note—ha! The old man’s eyes had just about popped out of his head. She’d wager an entire month’s pin money he’d never run so fast as he did that night to send a message to Ian about her supposed flirtation.
Pennington wasn’t the first amorous male she’d had to elude—Mr. MacNeill had had plenty of grist for his rumo
r mill over the years. Some men seemed to take her odd marital situation as a challenge—but Mr. Pennington? He owed his employment to the man he apparently wished to cuckold!
She glared at the soap cake. Not that Ian cared, of course. If the gossip in the newspapers were true, he’d already selected the Earl of Remington’s widow as her replacement—and given the woman a thorough interview between his sheets.
Well, to be fair, he had just turned thirty. The succession must be on his mind. He needed an heir, and to get an heir he needed a wife—a real wife, not the girl he’d married too young.
She sunk lower in the tub. Oh, God, what a mess.
She should write him today. This had gone on long enough.
They were adults now, even if they hadn’t been when they’d married and then separated. Surely they could solve this…problem in a sensible fashion. He was not malicious.
The door opened and closed. Annie must be back with the tea. Nell splashed water on her face. If her eyes were red, the girl would only suppose she’d got a little soap in them.
“Did you see the blue-eyed footman, Annie?”
“Blue-eyed—what the hell?”
Her heart stopped.
Oh God, oh God. That voice. Even after ten years, it slid around her heart as no other ever had. After all the tears, all the pain, it reminded her of laughter, of lying on sun-warmed heather with a summer breeze blowing cool off the loch. Of twisted bedsheets, slick flesh, heat and damp and…
No, it couldn’t be.
“I-Ian?” She struggled to her knees, turned to grasp the back of the tub. It was Ian. He’d changed, of course. The slender, wiry lad had broadened. His features were more chiseled; there were lines around his mouth and eyes that hadn’t been there before. His eyes themselves were the same, though, the same turbulent green of a storm-whipped sea. They were staring at…
She looked down. Water dripped from her naked breasts.
“Ack!” She leaped for the towel, but it was a little too far and the tub was a little too slippery. She pitched forward. “Ow! Aaa!”
The edge of the tub smacked her knee and shin hard, but the floor was going to smack her face harder.
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