by Randol, Anna
Apple frowned. “He said he wanted to find out a bit more about Sommet. Were you expecting him in to be here?”
It was Juliana’s turn to have her cheeks heat.
“Sorry, Your Highness. I don’t see anything or hear anything.”
“I rather suspect you do both very well.”
Apple brightened at that. “I do. Wraith said so, too. I learned how to do your hair by watching one of the other maids. She didn’t even know I was there. But,” she hurried to add, “whatever you do is safe with me. I won’t tell anyone.” Her lips pressed together. “Except Wraith. I would tell him anything he asked. But no one else.”
“Thank you. When you said he wanted to find out more about Sommet, what did he intend?”
“I think more information on the man’s defenses.”
What was he planning? Her heart inched up her throat. She thought they were supposed to work out a plan together. This was her responsibility. “Did he say where?”
Apple shook her head. “Why? Do you think something is wrong?”
Juliana tried to smile. “Probably not.” But she walked to the door. Sommet wouldn’t kill someone at his own house party, would he? If he found Ian snooping, he’d probably just have him arrested.
There were too many guests about, too many servants.
Except it was late at night and most were in bed.
“What time did you see him?”
Apple hurried over to stand next to Juliana. “A hour ago. I’m coming, too.”
“No. I need you to wait here in case he comes back.”
Apple snorted. “Wraith would hang me if I let you go about at night on your own.”
But Juliana didn’t need to worry about this girl as well as Ian.
Apple must have sensed her hesitation because she planted her hands on her hips. “I’ve lived on my own since I were ten years old. I know more about moving about unseen than you do.”
Juliana really couldn’t argue with that. “Chances are he is well and he’ll flay the both of use for sneaking about.”
Apple shrugged. “Worth the risk.”
“I think so, too.” Juliana strode into the corridor.
Chapter Twenty-five
The footman obviously didn’t know charm when he saw it. Ian was charming. Everyone told him he was charming. He could talk to anyone. He could hold a conversation with a three-legged dog if he so chose.
Yet Sommet’s footman/guard didn’t look up once from his stew when Ian sat beside him in the kitchen and tried to have a civil conversation.
The hulkish lout also ignored Ian’s offer of a quick game of cards when he spotted him on the way back from the privy.
Ian swore. He couldn’t approach the man again tonight without raising suspicion.
But the night hadn’t been a complete waste. The footman had shared quite a bit of information even with his refusals.
He was a former boxer, his thickened knuckles said that. He was right-handed. He didn’t interact with anyone except for a brief nod to Sommet’s butler. The nod of an equal, not an underling, which meant he was important to the duke not just a body to guard the stairs.
Not that Ian was entirely sure how to use any of this information yet. But he was patient. He knew it would all be of use eventually.
He moved down the corridor toward Juliana’s room. She should be back from the prince now.
“Groom!” A deep voice called behind him.
He knew who the voice belonged to without turning. He kept his pace steady. Once around the corner he could disappear.
“Or should I say Wraith?”
Ian stopped and turned to face the duke.
Sommet stood at the other end of the corridor, his hands deceptively relaxed by his sides. “My servant has orders to inform me of anyone who tries to speak to him. You really should do something about the scar on your cheek.”
“I think it lends me a rakish air.”
Sommet didn’t react and neither did he come closer. “Why are you here?” His eyes swept over Ian’s livery. “With the princess.”
Ian shrugged. “Had to find a job somewhere. Why are you here? Oh, you live here. Never mind.”
Sommet scowled. “You would do best to quiet your mouth.”
“Why? It’s not tired at all. I could talk all night.” His hand was only inches from his dagger if he needed it, but he was better at stabbing than at throwing. He needed the duke to move closer.
“Why are you here?”
“The privy. The other one was occupied, so I—”
“I wouldn’t play games.”
“Why not? I love games. A good game of conkers never goes amiss. Although perhaps you don’t like that game, you are pretty soft.”
Sommet’s face grew mottled. Really, the man needed to be mocked more often. He allowed himself to grow too agitated.
The duke drew a pistol.
One he couldn’t fire in his own corridor.
This was almost too easy. Now Ian knew what he carried and where he carried it.
Sommet was still too angry to realize his blunder. “I know you were in my study. The doorknob was askew.”
The man was that careful? But that was another important fact to tuck away.
“You were a fool to come here. Glavenstroke is too far away to save you.”
“But I’m not.” Juliana walked into the corridor, followed by Apple. She stepped directly into the path of the gun. For the first time in the encounter, Ian could hear his heart pounding against his eardrums. Perhaps he should gut all interfering women.
“Your Highness.” Sommet licked his lips as he slowly replaced his pistol in his jacket. “I regret to inform you that you have a spy in your employ. And not just a spy. A vile killer.”
She flinched only slightly. “I know. That’s why I hired him as the head of my protection detail.”
He wanted to shake her until her teeth rattled. Why was she binding herself to him in Sommet’s eyes?
“Then why was he wandering my halls?”
Juliana strode forward, her chin tilted high. She stopped when she was inches away from the duke. Ian half expected her to spit in his face. “I sent him on a task that is none of your concern. Good night, Your Grace.”
“I want him gone by morning.”
“No.”
“I beg your pardon, Your Highness?”
Ian inched forward until he was shoulder to shoulder with Juliana.
And within dagger’s reach of the duke.
“No. Where I go, he goes,” Juliana said.
“You may leave as well.”
“Then my brother will leave with me. And I don’t think that will work for you, will it?”
There it was. The truth of it finally out in the open.
“You do know.” Sommet’s tongue slid over his lower lip, and his nostrils flared as if scenting prey. “But your brother won’t leave. He values his own neck far too dearly.”
“You won’t take my crown.”
“As much as you bat your lashes at Wilhelm, he moves too slow to be a threat. Do you think I would have invited him otherwise? The man takes hours to pick a neck cloth.”
But if Sommet thought to intimidate Juliana, he’d soon learn her spine was forged from steel. If she wasn’t facing such a vindictive bastard, Ian would have sat back and enjoyed her performance.
Instead, he drew attention to himself. “We already have the letters.”
Sommet laughed. “Impossible.”
“I would think you heard a thing or two about me over the past ten years. I have a rather particular skill set.”
Sommet’s laughter faded. “You haven’t touched the letters.”
Ian just grinned.
Sommet stepped back. It wasn’t more than half an inch, but it was a retreat. “I’d be careful with your servants, Your Highness. These old castles can be dangerous.”
Juliana stiffened. “You dare threaten me?”
“Not you. It would look bad to the regent if a princess d
ied while at my house, but a groom? Servants are so often unreliable. They go missing all the time.”
Juliana’s lips had gone white about the corners.
Sommet turned his back and walked down the corridor. “Go home, Your Highness. Things here are far beyond you. You cannot lose a country you never had.”
Ian grabbed Juliana’s elbow to keep her from chasing after the duke and pushing him down the stairs. “Time to return to your room.”
Juliana’s breathing was tight in and out of her nose, her gaze distant.
He didn’t want her to dwell on the things the duke just said. “Thank you for my elevation in rank.”
But she wasn’t distracted. “Who does he think he is?”
“Unfortunately, he is one of the few men that is as powerful as he pretends to be. Do not take his threats lightly.”
She shook off his hand. “Then you think I should crawl home and let him win.”
“Definitely not, but neither should you provoke him. What were you doing in the corridor?” He glanced back at Apple.
The girl shifted, not meeting his gaze. “We were looking for you. We were worried.”
“Touching, but unnecessary. Can you make sure she stays in her room this time?”
Juliana’s face whipped toward him. “Where are you going?”
“To follow the duke.”
“He just threatened to murder you.”
“Everyone is always planning to murder me. And I cannot waste this trap.”
“Trap?” Juliana asked.
“I’ll tell you a little secret about how I was so successful as a thief. Quite simple really. I posted a sign on Bond Street warning of cutpurses.”
Juliana frowned. “How would that help? Wouldn’t it make people wary?”
“If you fear someone is going to steal something, what is the first thing you do?”
Juliana and Apple looked at each other, recognition on both their faces.
“You check and make sure they haven’t taken it already.” Juliana looked at him with such admiration, Ian’s chest ached.
“So I’d know where they kept their valuables.”
For half a moment, he wished she admired him for something that didn’t involve duplicity and larceny.
But it was all he had to offer.
“I’m coming, too,” Juliana said.
“No.”
“I am.”
Ian felt a smile tugging on the corners of his lips. “You can’t keep up with me if I don’t let you.”
“Then I’ll follow on my own.”
He glared at her. She glared back. There was no chance he’d allow that.
She knew it, too.
“You’re the one he plans to kill. Not me,” she said.
“We’re wasting time.”
“Then let me come.” She reached for him and placed her hand on his chest. He was selfish enough to do anything to keep that hand there.
“Fine. But I’m not carrying you on my back this time.”
There were footmen patrolling the perimeter of the castle. Unfortunately for Sommet, the men were walking close to the building.
While Ian was twenty yards back in an oak tree with a spyglass.
He tracked Sommet’s movements through his tower. Fortunately, like most proper Englishmen, it hadn’t occurred to Sommet to walk through his own rooms with the lights out.
Juliana was nestled behind him against the trunk of the ancient tree, her gown tucked securely around her legs so it didn’t flap in the growing wind and catch the attention of the footmen.
Apple had been sent back to her room. They needed someone to find their dead bodies if this went poorly, after all.
Ian followed the candlelight as it flickered from window to window. Sometimes bright, sometimes no more than a flicker under a closed door or through a pulled curtain.
True, Ian had no way to know for certain that Sommet was actually checking on his documents, Ian might have missed that in the brief time it took him to locate this tree.
However, Ian was counting on the fact that Sommet thought he was smart. He wouldn’t rush to check on his letters. No, he would wait in case anyone was watching.
But he wouldn’t be able to resist for long.
And anything Sommet was doing this late at night was of interest.
Juliana remained perfectly still and quiet as Ian had ordered, but he could still feel her every inhale. Each gust of air from the oncoming storm brought her scent into his lungs.
He tightened his hold on the spyglass, forcing himself to not breathe any deeper.
Sommet entered a room on the second floor. Bookcases. A desk. His real study, perhaps? He walked to the far wall.
Promising.
But then he walked to the window.
And waved.
Ian blinked, swearing under his breath. He knew better than to give the slightest movement to betray himself. With a smile, Sommet blew out the candle.
Damnation.
What were the odds that something had given Ian away? A glimmer of stray moonlight off the lens? Or was this all a calculated guess on Sommet’s part?
Where had he gone?
Ian watched the surrounding windows, but no light reappeared. No misplaced shadows. No quivering curtains.
So was there a significance to the room Sommet had chosen to wave from? Was it a taunt? Or a trap?
“I’ve lost him,” Ian told her.
She didn’t speak. She simply leaned forward slightly and peered over his shoulder to help him search.
But after about half an hour, the duke hadn’t reemerged and neither had he appeared in his room.
“What time do you think it is?” Juliana finally whispered.
He checked the watch in his pocket. “Three in the morning.”
“How long do we wait?”
“As long as it takes.” He was tempted to point out that if it had been up to him, she would have been cozy in her own bed right now, but he showed a rather remarkable restraint and kept silent.
When a fat drop of rain plopped on his cheek, he gloried in it. Let her see that these tasks were better meant for a man like him. Princesses shouldn’t be up the trees with dirty frocks and scraped hands.
He waited until the rough bark was completely soaked under him and his coat was clinging to his skin before looking back at her. She’d be cold. She’d be miserable, and she’d go back to her room where she belonged.
Juliana sat, with her back against the trunk, her knees drawn up to her chest for warmth.
But her face was turned up to the sky as droplets sparkled on her lashes. Her mouth was curved into an expression of pure rapture.
As if she could imagine nothing better than being on this branch with him.
Her tongue darted out to lick a raindrop from her lip.
The growl came from somewhere deep in his chest. He couldn’t have her forever but he was bastard enough to take as much of her as she’d give him now.
He wanted to stride purposefully to her at this point, but he was on a wet tree branch, so he stood and inched his way to her instead.
She looked up when his boots touched the edge of her gown—the damned gown that was now molded to her. She hurriedly wiped the water from her cheeks. “Did he come out?”
“No.” He took hold of her arms and drew her to her feet.
“Then—”
He crushed his mouth against hers, pressing her against the trunk of the tree. Her lips were cool and wet. She tasted like summer and rain. Her hands fisted on his lapels, drawing him closer.
He cupped her head and deepened the kiss, licking the rain from her mouth as she’d just done.
When she moaned slightly, he lifted his head. “If you want me to stop, tell me now.”
But her eyes were so hot with passion he knew she wouldn’t.
“Just promise me we won’t fall out of this tree. I’d have a hard time explaining that one to my aunts.”
So he lifted her and switched
places, sitting with his back against the tree and Juliana straddling his lap. “Better?”
She answered him by catching a drop of water on her finger and painting it over his lower lip.
And suddenly he just had to know. “Why are you so happy out here in the rain?”
“I’ve stolen away in the middle of the night. I’ve climbed a tree—something I’ve never had an opportunity to do. I’ve thrown expectations and conventions to the wind. And I’ve done it with you.”
Had he been cold and miserable before? He couldn’t remember. He could remember nothing but the way her wet lashes clumped together and the heat of her soft body in his lap.
His hands shook so badly he buried them in her hair, needing to hold on to some part of her as he kissed her.
He didn’t know how long he sat exploring her lips. He’d planned to continue to other parts of her body. But her lips were so exquisite, so pleasurable, that he couldn’t bring himself to move away.
Then Juliana took control, pressing kisses along the edge of his jaw, down his throat to the collar of his jacket.
His blood was molten in his veins, and there was no way she’d be able to doubt his continued desire for her. It was pressed between them in a rather obvious manner.
He freed one hand from her hair so he could cup her breast, testing the weight of it in his hand, tracing her already taut nipple with his thumb. She tipped her head back with a gasp and he took advantage of the easy access to the delicate skin of her throat, kissing his way down until he reached the swell of her breasts above her bodice.
He lifted his hand from her bosom to tug the wet fabric lower. She arched so quickly she wobbled and he had to grab her to keep them both from tumbling from the tree.
Her laughter against his chest was just as erotic as her kisses had been.
A gust of wind twined around them, causing her skin to pebble under his fingers.
Hell, he needed to get them out of the tree. He helped her stand, then slipped over the side of the branch, the rough bark biting into his cold fingers as he moved to the lower branch. Then he reached up and helped Juliana down.
They weren’t high, only perhaps a dozen feet, so they were on the ground quickly, even with the rain.
The footmen seemed to have given up their patrol in the rain—another useful fact—so he led her back to the castle and through a window whose lock he’d broken earlier in the day.
