by Candace Camp
“How did he try to kill you?” Patricia’s question came right on the heels of her husband’s. “I don’t understand.”
“Why would he want you dead?” Walter’s question was the one that still puzzled James.
“I don’t know, but hopefully he will enlighten us.” When Netherly did nothing except sneer in response, James went on. “He tried to poison me with mercury, but fortunately Laura figured it out and stopped it.”
“You are so clever, darling.” Tessa squeezed Laura’s arm.
“I assumed Claude was behind it,” James continued. “But when we began to discuss the matter . . .”
“When you were willing to listen to me,” Claude corrected.
“When I listened to Claude, or more to the point, when I described the method to him, he informed me that Mr. Netherly’s family owns a factory that manufactures various gauges, including thermometers. Which contain mercury. Your poet, Mother, was the only person in the place with access to mercury, and he had ample opportunity to place the poison both in London and here.”
Tessa sucked in a sharp breath, tears glittering in her eyes. “How horrible!” She turned a look on Netherly that did not bode well for the man. “How could you!”
“I did nothing of the kind!” he denied hotly. “You’re mistaken, de Vere. Your brother has manipulated you into believing lies. I have no reason to harm you. And the fact that my grandfather owns a factory which uses mercury doesn’t prove I had any or that I planted it in the house. How could I have put it in your medicine? It was Walter who picked that up at the apothecary. You should look to your brothers, not me.”
James smiled a trifle evilly. “I said nothing about the mercury being in my medicine. Odd that you should know it was if you weren’t the one to put it there.”
Netherly began to splutter, but was unable to come up with a defense. He cast a desperate glance around. “I don’t know anything about mercury. I wasn’t brought up in the family business. I was raised to be a gentleman.”
“Pity they didn’t do a very good job of it.” James reached inside his jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “I visited with your uncle this afternoon, and he was pleased to tell me how smart you were, how you had absorbed knowledge about the family business even though you were too fine to work there. He was also gracious enough to allow me to see his records.”
James unfolded the paper slowly, confirming Laura’s suspicion that he had inherited a bit of his mother’s flair for drama. “I must commend your uncle’s bookkeeper; the man keeps meticulous records.” He read a date and an amount from his notes and he looked back to the captive. “You are listed as the purchaser of that quantity of mercury on that date, shortly before I fell ill with mercury poisoning. Rather a large amount; your uncle was puzzled why you would need so much. But I suppose it would require quite a bit to contaminate two houses, wouldn’t it?”
The room erupted into chatter. James turned away, making his way toward Laura. He needed to be with her, touch her, as if to assure himself that she was there and well. Tessa said something to Laura, and she pivoted to face James.
She held herself erect, her expression guarded, and it crashed in on James that whatever he felt, whatever had happened, things were still not well between them. He stopped short and shoved his hands into his pockets. Neither of them spoke.
“James!” Tessa was quick to take up the conversational slack. “Darling! This is astonishing. Why on earth would Mr. Netherly try to kill you?”
“I’ve no idea. I can only assume he hoped to persuade you to marry him and thought I would be an impediment.”
“But I would never have married him!” Tessa said, astounded. “I assure you, I gave him no encouragement to think so.”
“It’s puzzling, but the evidence was clear.”
Tessa continued to chatter, and Walter was full of questions. James shifted impatiently. All he wanted was to get Laura away from everyone so that he could talk to her in private. Annoyingly, Laura continued to regard him in that assessing way . . . which could not possibly be a good sign.
“Laura, I want to talk to you,” he said abruptly, abandoning any attempt at subtlety, and took her arm.
As he did so, his mother exclaimed, “Of course you do. Laura was such a heroine! I could scarcely believe the way she pulled away from that man.”
“Yes, and it was a damned foolish thing to do.” James scowled at Laura. “You could have been killed.”
Laura’s brows shot up. “That is what you wanted to say to me?”
She jerked her arm away and whirled, rushing from the room.
chapter 43
Cursing under his breath, James hurried after her, catching up with Laura in the hallway. He grabbed her arm and pulled her into the nearest room, locking the door behind him. “Damn it, you are going to listen to me.”
Laura pulled her arm from his hand and pointedly walked away. She faced him, straight as an arrow, chin high and her face bright with challenge. Just the sight of her was like a punch in the chest to him. James wanted to kiss her, to shake her, to beg her to forgive him. All the rage and terror of the past hours surged up in him, mingling with love and lust in a potent mix that momentarily robbed him of speech.
Laura apparently did not have the same problem. “After all this time, after all that’s happened, after abandoning me and running off to London, not bothering to write a single time, not even to let me know Claude hadn’t murdered you en route—”
“I didn’t abandon you!”
“No? I don’t know what else you would call leaving me here, not even considering taking me with you. You obviously didn’t want my company.”
“That’s mad.” How had his attempt to apologize turned into this? “Of course I—I always want—damn it, you had plenty of company.”
“Much as I appreciate Demosthenes, a dog is not a substitute for a husband.”
“You have Graeme! You run over there all the time anyway. I just gave you more time to spend with him.”
Laura gaped at him. “Graeme! I don’t spend time with Graeme.”
“Oh. My mistake.” His voice dripped sarcasm. “No doubt you visit Lydcombe all the time because you’re bosom friends with the woman he married instead of you.”
“I cannot understand why you are jealous of Graeme when I am of so little importance to you.”
He stared at her. “So little importance! Good God, do you really think that I—”
“I know”—she cut through his words, taking a step forward, arms stiff at her side and hands clenched—“that you are indifferent to me. That you don’t love me. You told me yourself.”
“And you believed me?” He gave a short, bitter laugh.
“It’s what you said.”
“I lied!” James flung his arms wide. “You know I lied. You knew it even then.”
“No,” she said quietly, her eyes steady on his. “I only hoped.”
“Then you got what you wanted.” James swung away. He couldn’t bear to look at her face. The emptiness that had been gnawing at him for the past week flooded out, consuming him. He gripped the mantel with one hand, as if it would help hold down the storm inside him. “Of course I love you. When I saw you almost killed, it terrified me. I am hopelessly, idiotically in love with you. As big a fool as my father ever was. Worse. I’m eaten up with you, and I spend every day dreading that you will—”
He broke off with a growl of disgust. “Damn it!” James lifted a porcelain dog from the mantel and hurled it onto the hearth, where it shattered. “Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.” He followed the first statue with its mate on the other end and finished with a heavy stone elephant that did not smash but only chipped its tail and put a crack in the slate hearth.
Laura stood, openmouthed, watching him. James refused to look at her, crossing his arms over his chest, hands tucked beneath them, and set his jaw. It had gone from bad to worse; now he’d made a perfect idiot of himself in front of her. Again.
; “Well,” Laura said after a silence that stretched his nerves. She let out a breathy little laugh. “That was the most graceless declaration of love I would ever hope to hear.”
James flicked a black look at her. “I am well aware that I have made myself a figure of fun.”
“James . . .” She laid her hand on his arm. He flinched, but did not pull away. “Do you mean it? You love me?”
“Of course I mean it. How many times must I say it?” He kept his head turned, unable to face what he might see in her eyes.
“Only a few thousand more.” Laura slid her hand up his arm soothingly. “Why do you make it so hard? Why do you hate it that you feel something for me?”
“It’s not ‘something.’ It’s everything.” James could not keep from turning to her even though he knew all he felt must show on his face. “I am lost. I’ve given my heart utterly into your hands. And I know—”
“What? What do you know?” She moved closer, gazing up into his eyes. “What is it that terrifies you?”
“You will never feel for me what you did for Graeme,” he said roughly, pulling his arm from her grasp and taking a step back. “I know that I will never have you, that you will always wish, deep down, that I were he.”
James started to move past her, but Laura grabbed the front of his waistcoat, and though she could not have held him, he stopped. He fixed his gaze on the back of the chair beside him, painfully afraid that if he looked at her, he might break down and beg her for her love.
“James. Look at me.” Laura took his chin in her hand and turned his face to her, gazing straight into his stormy eyes. “I am not like your mother.”
He half shrugged. “I know. It’s not in your nature to be unfaithful.” Slowly, as if the words were pulled from him, he went on, “But I won’t have you. You’ll never be truly mine.”
“Of course you have me. All I am is yours. You say you have given your heart into my hands. Well, I have done the same. I have put everything into your keeping—my heart, my soul, my happiness. Every day without you has been bitter.”
He watched her warily.
“Listen to me.” She tugged sharply on the lapels of his jacket. “I loved Graeme many, many years ago. People change; feelings change. I still care for him as one cares for a . . . a cousin, say. But I don’t love him as I love you.”
He sucked in a nearly inaudible breath, his heart stuttering in his chest. “Do you?”
“Love you? Of course I do. Surely you must know I love you.”
“No.”
Laura took his hand in both of hers and lifted it, laying a soft kiss in his palm, then cradling it against her cheek. “Then you’re right, you are a fool. I’ve loved you since . . . well, I won’t say from the start, because you were excessively aggravating. But I’ve loved you for a long, long time. Since those long, awful nights when I sat there and listened to your breathing, so frightened it would stop.”
“That was pity.” He struggled to hold down the hope rising inside him.
“It wasn’t pity. It was admiration for the strength of your spirit. Your refusal to give up.”
“My stubbornness.”
“Yes, your stubbornness. And your heart. I fell in love with you. The you inside, the one who loves art and music and beauty, the one who wanted to give me a future.”
“Ah . . . the mawkish one.” Everything began to loosen inside him. “Lady Eugenia would tell you that comes from my mother’s side of the family.”
“It comes from your heart,” she corrected, poking her forefinger into his chest to illustrate. “And do not quote the dowager countess to me.”
He trailed his fingertips down the side of her face. “That was the part of me that was ill.”
“It’s always there. You were simply too sick to hide it then. I was able to see past the substantial armor you usually have in place. I know there’s more to you, much more. And you see, I love all the men you are.”
“All?” A smile began in his eyes. “My. You must be a woman of diverse tastes.”
“I am.” Laura’s face glowed. “I love the man who is a cynic, who cuts through pretense like a sword. I love the pragmatic man who makes sure all his business is wrapped up before he dies and the kind man who does that in order to ease the pain of those he leaves behind.”
“I think you attribute some undeserved qualities to these men, but go ahead.” James hooked his arm around her waist, holding her loosely against him. “Tell me more about your lovers.”
“Well . . .” Laura linked her hands behind his neck and leaned into him, enjoying the spark that leapt in his eyes. “I’m very fond of the fellow who loves his dog, as well as the one who understands numbers. The one who makes me laugh. But most of all, I love the one who touches me just so.” She stretched up, sliding her body over him. “Who kisses me”—she pressed her lips softly against his mouth—“in all those different ways. Who knows just where and when and how to turn me into a wanton.”
“This fellow must be a man of many talents,” he murmured, moving his hands down and pressing her pelvis more firmly against his.
“He is,” she agreed solemnly, sliding her hands beneath his jacket.
James made a low noise, half laugh, half groan, and pressed his lips to the side of her neck. “God, I’ve missed you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I hurt you. Will you forgive me?”
“After all those presents you sent me? How could I not?”
“Did you like them? I have more; I was too embarrassed to send them all.”
Laura nodded. “I loved them. Especially the books.”
He grinned. “I knew that would be the thing to win you, if aught would.” He took her lips in a long, deep kiss, then raised his head to gaze intently into her eyes. “Did you mean it? Tell me the truth. I can bear anything but that you lie to me.”
“The truth about what? That I love you? That I’m not in love with Graeme?”
He nodded. “Either. Both.”
“I love you.” Laura placed her hands on either side of his head and said firmly, “Not Graeme. I love only you. I will always love only you. And if you ever run from me again, I will track you down and make you rue it.”
“Good. For if I ever left you, it would mean I had lost my mind.” He lifted her up, kissing his way down her throat, repeating, “I love you. I love you. God help me, Laura, I love you.”
Laura laughed in a throaty way that made every nerve in his body sizzle. “Perhaps you could show me how much.” She sank her fingers into his hair.
His lips had made it down to the tops of her breasts. “I plan to.”
“Wait.” Laura wriggled out of his grasp.
“Laura . . .” he protested as he let her go. “You said—”
“I said . . .” Laura stopped his words, placing her finger over his lips. “I want you to make love to me.”
“Then—”
“But not here. I mean to make a long, slow time of it.” Her other hand trailed down his chest, fingers teasing at the waistband of his trousers. “I want to see you, to touch you everywhere,” she whispered into his ear. “I want you to undress me and kiss me and give me your complete attention.”
“You have that, believe me.” James bent and swept her up into his arms, starting for the door.
“James! There are people out there. You can’t carry me off in front of everyone.”
“Can’t I?” He cocked an eyebrow. “I’ll just tell them my delicate wife fainted from all the frightful events.”
“And what about that mess you made?” She waved vaguely toward the fireplace. “You ruined your mother’s china dogs, you know.”
“For which everyone should thank me.”
Laughing, Laura reached down to open the door, then laid her head upon his shoulder and let him carry her away.
chapter 44
Their lovemaking was everything Laura had asked for, and more. They undressed each other, coming together in slow, delicious kisses in between removing this article o
f clothing and that. When at last they lay naked on the bed, James made a long, languorous exploration of her body, kissing, caressing, awakening every nerve, including some Laura wasn’t aware she possessed.
She reveled in his touch, in the way his mouth traveled over her skin, teasing and awakening. He murmured endearments as he kissed her, as if now that the dam had broken, they could not be contained. “Beloved,” he termed her, and “my love.” “My heart.”
And those words from this contained man were as wonderful, as pleasurable as his caresses. She returned his passion, stroking his arms, his back, his chest, emboldened by his love. This, she thought, was heaven—to have him, hold him, kiss him without the concern that she would violate some unknown barrier.
James was open to her and she to him, and whatever happened in the future, whatever disagreement or irritation or pain and loss, they would have this shining perfection at the heart of their marriage. And so, when at long last he came into her, Laura cried out at the intensity of the sweetness, the complete union of their selves.
He moved within her, slow and sure, stoking their pleasure and anticipation, extending the shimmering glory, until at last they reached the pinnacle they sought, shattering in a storm of pleasure that left them drained and utterly content.
James gathered Laura in his arms then, holding her close, and before they drifted into sleep, he murmured in her ear, “I have no home without you.”
Laura awakened to James’s kisses in the pale light of dawn, their lovemaking gentle and drowsy, and afterward she snuggled into his embrace, falling asleep. When next she awoke, it was much later, and James was gone.
She lay for a moment, smiling to herself, her hand idly smoothing over the sheet beside her where he had lain. Laura was almost reluctant to leave the sanctuary of her room. There was no unpleasantness here. She suspected that could not be said of the rest of the house.
She could not delay forever, though. However much she might dread dealing with Tessa’s tears and everyone’s questions and speculations, she had to do it. There was also the prospect of spending time with James. He would probably be embroiled in matters concerning Mr. Netherly a good part of the day, but perhaps she could persuade him to take a stroll through the gardens with her this afternoon.