The Sanctuary (A Spencer Novel)

by Sandra Lea Rice

  “It reminded me of my vows to love, honor, and obey my husband. I fell short in my promise to honor and obey, and for that—and what it cost you, cost us—I am truly sorry.”

  Clairece advanced to stand in front of him, so close she could feel the heat from his body. He didn’t touch her, didn’t reach for her, and she felt the separation in every inch of her being.

  She laid her hands on his chest. “I acted without thought. I fear it may have cost me your love.”

  Anthony remained still beneath her hands. “Love without trust . . . what kind of love is that?” He slowly shook his head. “The sad truth is, Clairece, you do not trust me.”

  She clutched the edges of his shirt in her hands. “Please, Anthony.”

  He untangled her fingers from his shirtfront and placed a kiss in each palm. “When we married, you became mine to protect and cherish. On our wedding night, as we shared our bodies and consummated our marriage, I gave you a piece of my heart. Contrary to what some believe, hearts can, and do, break.”

  “Anthony, I will change.” She was begging—pleading with him, and didn’t care.

  “Hush, sweetheart. I fell in love with the person you are.” He framed her face with his hands. “I’m not asking you to change. Not now, not ever. But if you trust me, truly trust me, you will place your wellbeing in my hands and know you are safe. Although I believed my reasons sound, I pressured you into marrying me. That was unfair. If you feel the need to leave—”

  She launched herself at him. “I won’t leave you.”

  His arms encircled her waist and she felt his lips brush her ear. “You need to think long and hard, be certain before you commit to me once more. I will not do this again, Clairece.”

  “With all my heart, I want to be your wife. I want to bear your children and watch them grow, as we age together.”

  Anthony’s lips claimed hers in gentle acceptance. They stood locked in each other’s arms for long moments while Clairece thanked God for a second chance.

  He eased back. “Will you show me your study?”

  “I would love to,” she gushed. “I am so proud of what we’ve accomplished, and all from items purloined from the attics.”

  Anthony frowned. “That was not necessary. You could have spent whatever you . . .” His gaze slid past her shoulder and he began to pivot in a slow circle.

  Clairece clamped her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle and fought the urge to bounce up and down. At the awed expression on his face, she let her excitement show. “You like it?”

  “The change is miraculous. You’ve transformed a space I believed would always seem abhorrent, into an elegant little jewel.”

  She watched him move from one piece of furniture to the next, running his fingers over the satin feel of the polished wood. He scrutinized the new window hangings and window seat. “I remember these,” he whispered.

  “I have only to remove the remaining books from the top shelf and replace them with some of my choosing, and the room will be finished.”

  “Feel free to pilfer from the library. Should there be something specific you wish, I’ll have it delivered here.”

  Anthony continued to meander until he stopped before the painting of woman and child. “Mother,” he whispered and touched the canvas face with his thumb.

  He moved on to an exquisitely carved curio cabinet and bent to study the two items resting behind the diamond-shaped panes; a feather-and-lace mask, and a pressed rose. “You kept them.”

  Clairece moved to his side. “I fell a little in love with you that night.”

  At his silence, she murmured, “Although you believed me a whore, you showed me more consideration, more tenderness, and gave me more pleasure, than I had received at the hands of a man who professed to love me. I shall always remember and treasure our first time together.”

  Anthony took her hand in his. “You’ve been treated shabbily by those of my gender.”

  “Sit by me?” She laced her fingers with his and led him to the window seat. He settled beside her and, again, grew quiet. Finally he spoke.

  “As a small lad, I used to wonder why he didn’t care for me, why I couldn’t please him.”

  Clairece knew to whom Anthony referred, and her heart ached for her husband. The late earl would have much to answer for in the afterlife.

  “I wanted to be of importance to him, to be more than a means to secure the succession.” Anthony flicked a glance at her, then looked away.

  She squeezed his hand. “You have no idea how important you are to those around you.”

  “For their livelihood, perhaps.”

  “That is simply not true. Any one of these people would fight for you, would lay down their life for you, because of the man you are. You’ve rebuilt this lovely home and the beautiful park to what it was originally intended to be—a safe haven for a family. You offer shelter and protection to those you find in dire straits. You gather them to you like a mother hen gathers her chicks, and offer them refuge with dignity.”

  Clairece palmed his cheek, turning his face toward her. She met his gaze and whispered, “Many generations ago, this parkland was aptly named by an earl who deemed to call it The Sanctuary. However, this is simply a dwelling, and you, dear Anthony, are the true sanctuary.”

  Chapter 56

  Anthony wanted to believe Clairece. He wanted to believe his efforts to amend his failures as a youth were successful. And he desperately wanted to believe his life had value.

  “Make love to me,” Clairece whispered.

  He shook his head.

  Her chin trembled. “Is it me?”

  “Not you, sweetheart, but me. I will not abuse your affection in an attempt to exorcise the ghost from this room.”

  “It’s all right, truly.”

  “Do not absolve me so easily. I will not swive a loving, generous woman in this room. I will, however, make love to my adored wife in our bed.”

  “Then take her to bed, husband, but be assured she would welcome your lovemaking anywhere.”

  Anthony gained his feet and reached for her. They moved hand-in-hand through the mansion until they locked the doors of their chambers behind them.

  “Turn around, my love.” He plucked the pins from her hair and uncoiled the long, thick, braid. His hands skimmed through her silky locks before settling on her shoulders. “We should remove these clothes.” Quickly he divested her of her clothing, then bent to press a kiss the tender spot at the hollow of her shoulder.

  Clairece made a purring sound in the back of her throat.

  “Such a sweet sound, one I’ve missed hearing.” He stepped back and let his gaze slide down her body. “You are so beautiful, my love.”

  Anthony discarded his clothing, all the while holding her gaze. He settled his wife in the middle of his large four-poster bed and climbed in beside her. She nestled against him as he slid an arm beneath her shoulders and held her tightly against his side. “I love you, Clairece. The fact you love me in return, humbles me.”

  When her lips brushed his temple, he closed his eyes lest she see the effect the small gesture had on his composure. She sent her hand skimming down his torso to rest on his abdomen. His attention shifted to her fingers. She licked the side of his neck, then grazed his collarbone with her teeth.

  Anthony shivered.

  Her seductive mouth continued its exploration down his body. She swirled her tongue over the flat disc of one nipple and sucked gently. He drew in a shuddering breath and felt her smile against his chest. Vixen.

  Determined to let her play, he concentrated on not moving. A soft humming began in her throat as she kissed and licked her way down his stomach. He had to grit his teeth to keep from reaching for her when her tongue swirled his belly button.

  Clairece drew circles o
n his abdomen, dipping lower with each stroke. Although Anthony mentally prepared for what she might do next, his wits scattered when those roaming digits sleeved his engorged member and a warm, slick tongue skimmed the head of his swollen flesh. His groin jerked in greedy expectation.

  He groaned, unable to stop the slight motion in his hips. Clairece cupped him in her hand and gently fingered his ballocks. Every cell in his body erupted with need as she took him in her mouth. At the pull of her lips, he levered upward.

  “Enough, sweeting, I’ll spend if you continue.”

  Clairece met his gaze, an expression of smug, feminine satisfaction in her cyan-blue orbs.

  “You are a positive menace to my control.” Anthony rolled her beneath him, sheltering her with his limbs and weight. This would be their true wedding night. He would give her all the pleasure within his power to give, enough so the memory of this night would soothe her far into the future should something go wrong.

  He kissed and caressed her from her forehead to her toes until she clutched at his shoulders, rocking her pelvis against him.

  Anthony trailed his hand down her body to the soft curls and rubbed his fingers across her opening, spreading the moisture, dipping a finger into her damp heat. He maintained a slow, rhythmic, in-and-out motion until her hips pushed against his hand.

  “Let go, beauty, find your pleasure.” He delved deeper and her intimate channel gripped his fingers as her climax took her.

  Anthony held her until her limbs relaxed and she settled against him. “You are so beautiful while in the throes of passion.”

  She sighed. “I am boneless, but you have not found your pleasure.”

  “I will, but first I would see you find yours once more.” He settled his hips between her thighs. In one thrust, he seated himself deep within her.

  He stilled, holding her gaze with his, he whispered, “The words I gave you when we married were the words necessary to make us man and wife. The words I offer now are from my heart. I, Anthony, take you, Clairece, to be my beloved wife, to have and to hold you, to honor and treasure you, to be at your side in sorrow and in joy, in good times and in bad, and to love and cherish you for all the days of my life.”

  She smiled gently and vowed, “And I, Clairece, take you, Anthony, to be my husband and my one true love. I will cherish our union and love you more each day than I did the day before. I will trust you and respect you, laugh with you and cry with you, loving you faithfully through good times and bad. I willingly give you my heart, for all the days of my life.”

  Anthony lowered his head and claimed her mouth in a kiss meant to bind them for the rest of their days.

  He began to move in long, steady strokes. Within moments, she matched his rhythm in a dance older than time.

  He slid his hands beneath her hips and lifted to receive him fully. Clairece wrapped her legs around him, locking her ankles behind his flanks. When she added a small rotation of her pelvis, a roaring started in his ears. He wanted to prolong their coupling, to give her as much pleasure as he could, but as her inner muscles began to grip and release, he lost his ability to think.

  “Come with me, love,” he groaned against her temple.

  As the first tremors began inside her sheath, moving along his manhood in rippling jerks, his body tightened with impending climax. He threw his head back, gritted his teeth, and thrust deeper, pounding into her. She came with a high, keening sound and convulsed around him. Her cry was his undoing. Awareness narrowed and centered on the point where their bodies joined. The roaring in his ears increased until, with a low guttural shout, his seed pulsed into her body.

  Sometime later, Anthony became aware of Clairece gently stroking his back. The scent of orange blossoms and woman filled his senses. He disengaged and rolled to his side, taking her with him. She snuggled closer.

  “Rest, my love, for your husband plans to wake you as the sun rises and show you how much he adores you.”

  Clairece murmured something unintelligible. Within moments, her breathing settled into the steady rhythm of sleep.

  As Anthony held the woman he loved more than life itself, a few disturbing thoughts intruded.

  Something was off with James, of that he was certain. Although worry could make a man behave differently, they’d been friends for a long time and there was something in James’ reticence not in evidence before.

  Tomorrow, he would take James aside and speak to him.

  His mind drifted, finally settling on the light left burning in her new office. Eager to reach their apartments, he’d not remembered the lamp.

  Anthony slipped from the bed, pulling on a pair of loose-fitting, silk trousers. He tied the drawstring at the waist, stuffed his feet in a pair of slippers, and shrugged into his robe as he exited the room.

  Chapter 57

  Anthony snuffed the wick in the lamp in Clairece’s study and quit the room, closing the door behind him. Tomorrow, he would send a footman to remove the remaining tomes from the top shelf. The decision as to which ones should stay would be hers.

  At a soft clink from the direction of the library, he crept down the hall toward the partially open door. The sound came again and Anthony recognized it for what it was—the stopper from a crystal decanter. He nudged the door open.

  James slouched in a chair, a glass of brandy clutched in his hand. As Anthony watched, his friend leaned forward to rest his forearms on his knees, and closed his eyes.

  “James?”

  James glanced at him, then returned his gaze to the golden liquid in his snifter.

  Anthony closed the door and dropped into the seat across from his friend, who hefted the almost-empty decanter and raised a brow. “What’s troubling you? I’m guessing it’s something more than the miscreant we’re dealing with.”

  “And you would be right.” James set the decanter on the small table near his chair. “But it’s also one and the same.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  In one gulp, James downed the remainder of his drink and set the glass beside the carafe. “Pray God you never do.”

  “Whatever it is, let me help.”

  “You’re the brother I was never blessed with, and dear to me. Would that I might spare you.”

  Alarm spiked. “Spare me from what?”

  James speared him with a look of such anguish, Anthony’s resolve to know, faltered.

  “Be warned, Tony, you will not like what I have to say. Hell and damnation”—James rose unsteadily to his feet—“what any man of us has debated on saying.”

  The hair on the back of Anthony’s neck prickled with foreboding.

  “It is clear you hold Gerald in some esteem, though God only knows why. It’s also apparent you refuse to accept the evidence forming against him.” James raked his fingers through his hair. “If it were any other man, you would have drawn the same conclusion before now. It wants only to see his name on the ships’ manifests to confirm his guilt.”

  “You cannot know for certain.” Anthony’s stomach threatened to revolt.

  “Do you think I would voice an opinion, mine or any others’, if I weren’t convinced of what I say? Out of concern for you, we have held our suspicions until absolute proof arrives. Within a day or two, we will have our validation and this will end. I would ask you not detest whoever sees to its conclusion.”

  “What are you saying?” Anthony could barely form the words.

  “Even with all his heinous crimes, Gerald still holds a baronetcy of long standing. Though not a peer of the realm, it is still possible his punishment might be deportment to the colonies in Australia. He would be free to inflict his tortures on other unsuspecting women. This cannot be allowed.”

  “You sound like one of those benighted men Stallings spoke of.” At the look on James’ face, Anthony’s bloo
d froze. “James?”

  His friend’s voice lowered to a menacing purr. “So you believe those who seek justice when the system fails are in contemptible moral ignorance?”

  “Don’t you? As Lords, we are charged to uphold the laws of the land as it stands.”

  “Even if those laws are flawed and proven to be imperfect?” James articulated slowly.

  “They are better than no law at all.” Anthony vaulted to his feet. “Do you countenance the idea some should stand outside the law and dispense a form of justice most would only see as vengeance?”

  “I countenance justice which is why I spend so damned much time in Parliament and the Lords,” James retorted.

  The case clock on the mantle struck four times.

  “I think you should return to your wife, Tony. The sun will rise soon enough with whatever unpleasantness the day will bring.”

  “And at the end of the day, you and I will still be friends.”

  Uncommon silence greeted Anthony when he entered the breakfast parlor. A room holding at least half-dozen men, breaking their fast, should be abuzz with conversation. He glanced at the lot of them, inordinately preoccupied with their food-laden plates.

  A movement near the window revealed a dust-covered Rafael Cordova.

  “Tell me,” Anthony ordered without preamble.

  One by one, the men set their forks down, similar expressions of commiseration evident on their faces.

  Rafael faced him squarely. “My men and I came across a body early this morning. He was shot in the back and the face by someone who would make him difficult to identify.”

  “Is it our man?” Anthony queried.

  Rafael held out his hand. “We found this on his person, Lord Anthony.”

  As soon as the flat piece of metal hit his palm, Anthony knew what he would see. Merciful God in Heaven. He glanced at a button bearing the Harding coat of arms. “How long has the man been dead?”