by Laura Parker
Cassandra shook her head, indescribably pleased that he should care as passionately for their child as she. “No, but my troubles concern him. I know Caroline Lambert. That is, I have seen her before.”
Merlyn nodded once. “In Derbyshire, at Briarcliffe.”
“You remembered, and yet you said nothing?”
Merlyn let his fingers roam idly over the satin skin of her breasts. “What could I say? Should I have asked her if she remembered me dressed as the Come de Valure? Come, Cassie, it was enough that she did not.”
“What of me? She said I was familiar. Tomorrow, perhaps, she will begin to remember why.”
Merlyn chuckled. “If Caroline remembers anything, it will be that I was ungentlemanly enough to decline to share her bed. That, my love, is what will concern her most.”
Cassandra’s anxious look changed to thin-lipped annoyance. “Don’t you dare speak to me of that trollop and her lures. I heard her, remember? And—I heard you kiss her. It didn’t sound as if you were eager to be quit of her. Luscious thighs, indeed!”
Merlyn smothered his laughter in the valley between her breasts. “Oh, love! You’ve changed. My frightened little mouse can roar.” His hand moved from her waist to her hip and down to the inner velvet of her thighs. “Here’s all the lushness I desire.”
“Mer—lyn,” she breathed unsteadily as his fingers began to work their magic again. “Listen, I am serious. She may remember. I heard her begin to tell you at the Pump Room about that very trip. She said there were rumors circulating in London.”
Merlyn frowned. “That’s true. Nick has taken a beating in the gazettes. Those cartooners can be the very devil when they seek to lampoon a fellow. No names were named, but conclusions were quickly drawn when the announcements of Adam’s birth made the society columns. Perhaps I shouldn’t tell you, but Caroline says your sainted Nick has fought several duels over the matter.”
“Oh no!” Cassandra shook her head, the exquisite pleasure of the last moments fading. “I didn’t want any of this to happen. I told the marquess his scheme was a mad one. Adam is my child, mine alone.”
Merlyn bent and kissed her mouth. “Not quite, my love. I seem to remember a night in Newgate—no, don’t turn from me. Once I wondered if I should be ashamed of that act. But I’ve seen how dearly you love the child I gave you, and I’ve never been sorry since. You belong to me, Cassie, just as Adam does. Never again can Nicholas—who was no husband—come between us.” He cupped her face with his hands. “You will stay with me, live with me as my wife.”
“I want that,” Cassandra answered. “But it can’t be here, as I’d hoped. We must go where the marquess can’t find us.”
“Precisely.” And Merlyn kissed her again. “I’ve been thinking of France. In few days, a week or two at most, I should have won enough at the faro tables—Did you hear something?”
Cassandra had heard a soft click like the opening of a door, but when she and Merlyn sat up and looked around the edge of the bed hangings, his door was shut. Merlyn hopped nimbly from bed and went to the door and listened. After a moment he turned the key in the lock and came back to bed. As he looked down at Cassie his expression turned curiously hard. “I’ll have no disruptions this night. I want you here to make love to as much and as often I can manage it.”
Cassandra lifted her arms to him. “Come, then, my love. Whatever you want.”
Merlyn’s face lit anew with pleasure and he knelt quickly over her. “What, do you not demand protestations of love? Will you not need assurances that it is your bed alone I shall seek after this?”
Cassandra shook her head. “I’ve asked too much of love before. I’ll accept what’s given me this time.”
Merlyn lowered himself against her, glorying in her soft warmth. “You underestimate yourself, Cassie. If I do not swear to love you above all the others, it is because there have never been any other loves. There was even a time when I didn’t like myself so well. But you’re reforming me, as a good woman should. I can almost say I will never steal again, unless your safety and Adam’s demands it, and I will strive to be a good father and husband.”
“Then there is one more thing I would ask of you,” Cassandra said as her fingers slid through the thick black hair at his temples. “Take off your patch. Let me see you as you are, with no illusions between us.”
Merlyn allowed her to remove the leather patch, conscious that none other had ever done that before. It was a curiously erotic moment, one in which he revealed himself to her in a way no one else ever suspected.
“You have my secret,” he whispered, his emerald and sapphire gaze darkening with desire. “When we are safe, I swear to you, I will throw that patch away.”
Cassandra sighed and moved across the space in the bed, but her seeking hand met nothing. Instantly, her eyes flashed open and brilliant sunlight made her close them again. How quickly came the dawn these days, she thought as her face relaxed into a smile. Every night for the last eight, Merlyn had come to share a part of it with her. He said that, of the two, it was better if he risked being found roaming the halls. Hugh would not approve of him seeking to press his attentions on a female guest, but it was excusable in a man.
Cassandra hugged herself with joy. Merlyn loved her; it was there in every look they shared, in every unspoken word that gave their silences worlds of meaning. Once or twice he had even been able to slip off and meet her at Ebba’s cottage for the afternoon.
Cassandra rolled over on her stomach and hugged her pillow tight against her. She missed Adam, the funny ache in her heart was never quite gone. It would not be long now, Merlyn promised her. His luck at the betting tables was paying off. Soon they’d have enough funds to purchase tickets to France.
She sat up at the sound of a knock on her door and quickly looked about to make certain Merlyn had taken all of his clothing with him. Just the day before he had forgotten his cravat and she had nearly left it lying by the bed when she went out. The maid would have made quick gossip of that!
“Come in,” she called just as the door opened.
“Oh, you’re still sleeping.” Caroline popped her head through the door as if expecting to catch Cassandra unprepared. Her painted smile drooped a trifle. “Did I hear voices?”
Cassandra smiled. “Why ever would you think that?”
Caroline straightened and sailed into the room, wearing a lovely creation of russet taffeta which, surprisingly, clashed with her hair. “Oh, I know,” she said, spying the girl’s look, “but it’s the newest color from Paris and I thought perhaps a lace collar would dampen the effect.”
She curtsied to display the deep plunging decolletage which revealed most of each rounded breast. “Merlyn, of course, dismissed the idea. What do you think?”
She’s testing me, Cassandra realized in alarm. She and Merlyn would need to be more careful in the future. “I think Mr. Ross should know what best becomes a beautiful woman,” she answered truthfully. Let the woman wear the hideous color. If it did not dim her beauty, nothing would.
Caroline made a moue. “You sweet child. Do you think me beautiful? I’ve seen the way your eyes—What is that?” The last words were said sharply as her brilliant eyes fastened on Cassandra’s gown.
Cassandra looked down with a sinking feeling, knowing even before she saw it what had caught the woman’s gaze. Reluctantly she touched the emerald and sapphire ring that she kept pinned inside her bodice at all times. The collar of her night rail was unbuttoned and it had fallen to the outside. “It’s a keepsake,” she said calmly, not knowing what the woman knew.
The actress’s eyes narrowed to slits. “I had wondered what happened to Merlyn’s ring. I supposed he’d been forced to sell it in Paris in order to eat. But I see, instead, it was used to purchase relief from another kind of hunger.”
Cassandra held her head proudly. “Who paid for your new gown, Miss Lambert?”
The woman’s porcelain complexion reddened to an
unbecoming shade. “Why, you little minx!” Then suddenly she threw back her head and laughed. “You almost had me convinced. You little whore! So that’s why Merlyn neglects me. I should have guessed. Well, I should be angry, but I’m not. I’ll have him again, soon.”
This speech was calculated to hurt, but Cassandra remained calm, for the woman’s temper rang a false note in her. The anger was contrived, as if she’d acted on cue. The consummate actress Miss Lambert’s performance would have been flawless to the casual audience, but Cassandra’s nerves were tuned to the tiniest hum of nuance and she knew at once that the actress had known of her liaison with Merlyn for days. It was then that she remembered the click of the door latch the night she’d spent in Merlyn’s bed. They had thought someone had tried to enter. Perhaps, instead, someone had closed that door!
“What do you plan to do with your information, Miss Lambert?”
The actress’s eyes widened. “Do? Why, nothing. I like you, Cassie.” She came and sat on the edge of the bed. “If you please Merlyn, then it pleases me, for he is talking to Lord Mulberry about a new play. If Merlyn takes a lead, then so will I. You keep him here and happy, and we’ll both have what we want.” There was a malicious glint in her eye as she added, “But I would be careful. Merlyn is a jealous man. Your long afternoon walks in the country might be misconstrued.”
This got the reaction the actress had expected the first time. Cassandra’s face paled of color and her eyes grew enormous. “You’re not going to cry?” the actress exclaimed in annoyance, afraid she might have gone too far too quickly. If Merlyn learned what she knew, then her little trap might spring too late.
She rose and made a great production of shaking out the folds in her skirts. “I don’t pretend to know where you go. I don’t care. Just keep Merlyn here and happy. Adieu.” A moment later she was out the door.
Here and happy. The line echoed in Cassandra’s mind as she sprang for the door and locked it behind the vicious woman. “Why should she want Merlyn to remain?” Cassandra strained to recall what she and Merlyn had said that night. Had Miss Lambert heard everything? Or was she just jealous of their love and wished to see them squirm?
Cassandra hurried her dressing, but Merlyn and Lord Mulberry were gone when she went in to breakfast. Later, in the Pump Room, she could not find them. It was there she learned that they had gone up into the hills on a hiking expedition. Exasperated, angry, and frightened, Cassandra spent the interminable afternoon in the lending library thumbing through a quite shocking book entitled The History of Tom Jones, A Foundling by Mr. Fielding. Her heart was not in the misadventures of the lovable rogue. She had one too nearly like him on her conscience at the moment.
It was not until a full twelve hours after Caroline’s veiled barbs had stung her that Cassandra found herself, miraculously, alone with Merlyn. She had come down early for dinner, and he was the first after her to make an appearance in the salon.
“Merlyn!”
The inflection in her tone made him instantly aware that something was wrong, and he came quickly across the room to her after a look over his shoulder at the closed door. “What’s wrong?”
Cassandra grasped the hands he held out to her. “She knows, Merlyn! Caroline knows that we are lovers.”
Merlyn did not immediately reply. He was caught and held by the rich dark eyes on him. “You are so lovely, Cassie. I feel myself drowning in the warm sweet honey of your gaze.”
Cassandra pulled her hands free and turned away, miffed that he had no concern for her fear. “Well, I can see you do not care who knows about us.”
Merlyn shrugged, but his eyes never left her. “Do you care so much? Are you beginning to think you’ve made a mistake? We’re no more married than we ever were. I thought you’d worked through that for yourself. If you will start each time someone guesses we’re not wed …”
“Oh no!” Cassandra turned back to him, reaching out to touch his sunburned cheek. “You must never think that. I’m not ashamed of loving you and sharing that love; it’s that I believe she overheard us the night I came to your room.” Then she repeated the morning conversation.
When she was done, Merlyn shrugged. “I don’t see the cause for alarm. As long as she doesn’t know about Adam we’ve nothing much to fear.” His eyes crinkled in the corners as he smiled. “I don’t want a part in Hugh’s new play.”
Cassandra drew in a breath to protest, but the door opened and Caroline swept in on Hugh’s arm, her new gown billowing about her. “Do we interrupt?” she questioned in glee. “Look, Hugh. Miss Lane is blushing. Merlyn, you rogue, were you making violent love to the girl?”
“Of course,” Merlyn returned at once and raised Cassandra’s hand to his lips. “Detestable gown,” he murmured with a wink as he lightly saluted her hand.
It was just the bracing Cassandra needed, and she laughed.
Annoyed by their private moment, Caroline moved forward with Hugh in tow. “Nothing naughty, Merlyn. Hugh has just been telling me that he finds Miss Lane excessively pretty.”
Hugh looked skyward and Cassandra smiled. “Two suitors. My, my, it must be the fresh air.”
It was not until much later, in the privacy of her bed, with Merlyn’s black head on her breast and her fingers laced gently through the heavy silk of his hair, that Cassandra spoke again of what was uppermost in her mind. “We must leave, Merlyn. I want to go tomorrow.”
Merlyn stirred, the weight of his naked body curling down more tightly against hers. “We cannot, my love. I cannot afford much more than the trip to Plymouth. We’ll have nowhere to go.”
A film of tears blurred her vision. “I’m so afraid. Caroline is too pleased with herself. She wants us to remain. We must leave.”
Merlyn raised his head and kissed the dimple in her chin. “Don’t worry, Cassie. Just a few more days, I swear it. You won’t allow me to steal Hugh’s ring collection, so it must be done slowly, a hand of cards at a time. There’s to be a rout at Prior Park in two days’ time. After that we’ll leave.”
Cassandra said nothing more. She could not deny the need for money. Adam was growing; he needed to be kept warm and dry and well fed. They would wait because they must.
After a few minutes, she ceased to think at all. It was quite extraordinary, she thought, how easily a man could be aroused. She had merely brushed her hand along the inside of his thigh, touching him as lightly and familiarly as he touched her, and she heard his breathing change and felt the stirring of his manhood.
Merlyn lifted his head once more and kissed her damp cheeks. “Love, my love, I love you so.”
Cassandra decided not to take the baths the next morning. A dread had come to overlay her joy, and when Merlyn vacated her bed just before dawn she could not find the peace of sleep. It was well past sunrise before she fell into a disturbed slumber that changed into an aching head by midmorning. Before lunch, in an effort to shake off the feeling, she had a hearty snack packed for herself and set out for Ebba Lane’s cottage.
“Hasn’t he grown?” Cassandra said proudly as she held up her four-month-old son.
“That he has. He’s going to be every bit as tall as his father,” Ebba said. “Only, I’m a wee disturbed about his left eye. Bring him out into the sunlight and you’ll see. It’s changing to a greenish hue.”
Cassandra wrapped Adam in his blanket before carrying him out into the sunlight, but she noticed from his vigorous kicks that he longed to be free of the confining wraps. “He’ll be crawling soon,” Cassandra said and received a nod of confirmation from Ebba. “Merlyn must get us away. I’ve missed too much in the weeks we’ve been apart.”
By the end of the afternoon, the shadow that had marred her day was gone, flown as completely as the shrouding fog of early morn.
It was Caroline who burst in upon her peace as she shared a before-dinner glass of wine with Hugh and Merlyn.
“You’ll never guess the news!” she greeted them, sweeping in in a gown of
midnight blue. “Hugh, you will remember the scandal of the bastard heir?” She spoke to her host, but her eyes were on Cassandra. “Well, you’ll never credit it. The cuckolded husband has been killed in a duel!”
If she had not been sitting, Cassandra knew, she would have fallen. Instead her world tilted wildly and from a great distance she heard Hugh exclaim, “Miss Lane, you’ve spilled your wine!”
“Blast you for a stupid cow!” Merlyn’s deeper, angrier voice roared, and then Cassandra felt herself being pushed swiftly forward till her head hung between her knees.
“What did I say?” Caroline’s voice was full of affront. “Certainly you cannot blame me for a fit of the vapors. Lud! Men! One simple swoon and—” Her voice ended in a choked gasp, but Cassandra could not see by whom or how she was cut off.
“Ring for brandy,” Hugh said in the quiet authority of a nobleman. “Well, Caroline, make yourself useful.”
“No … please,” Cassandra managed thickly and tried to raise her head, but the pressure of a large hand kept her bent forward.
“A moment longer,” Merlyn said near her ear. “It’ll pass.”
“I feel … so silly,” Cassandra murmured.
“Too much sun,” Hugh suggested. “I noticed her flushed cheeks when she came in this afternoon. She must be put to bed. Ah, there you are, James. Brandy for Miss Lane. Then ring for Harriet. Miss Lane is feeling unwell.”
“Never mind.” Merlyn reached down and scooped Cassandra up into his arms. “Steady, Miss Lane,” he said in warning in case she forgot herself before the others. “I’ll carry her upstairs. Which room, Hugh?”
Caroline’s unladylike snort of derision was ignored by both men, and Cassandra gave up to the pleasure of the strong arms about her and dropped her head against his shoulder.
Only when they reached the safety of the hall did she raise her lips to Merlyn’s ear. “She knows.”
“Yes, blast her!”
“Oh, Merlyn, if it’s true!” Cassandra found she couldn’t go on, didn’t even want to acknowledge the faint flutter of hope struggling in her heart. A man was dead. That was terrible.