She ran a hand gently over the scars, then reached around his waist and held him close, her breath warm against his skin and her soft hands stroking his belly. His body stirred. “Thank God for Vijaya! He is such a contradiction, is he not? So quiet and scholarly, but he killed that man yesterday as though it were easily done.”
“And the tiger, fortunately for me.” Rob turned to face her again, holding her against his hips again. Just being near her, feeling her hands on him, lightened his mood. “Are you going to show me whatever it was that you painted in his room?”
Her face turned scarlet, and Rob laughed aloud, stroking her fiery cheek. “Now I certainly want to see it.”
“Right now?”
“I am sure I do. I can see that it will fit well with my present frame of mind.” He released her and stepped back expectantly. Iantha lowered her arms, and her dress fell to the floor. She clutched at it and missed. It pooled around her feet.
“I don’t know….” Her blush now covered her throat and breasts. “I can’t think why I painted such a thing.”
“You have no choice. My curiosity is now rampant. Along with other things.” Rob put his hands on his hips. “You may as well fetch it, or I shall give you no peace.”
“Very well. I do rather like it.”
Iantha crossed the room to her desk as Rob watched. He loved the way her shift clung to her swaying hips. His erection grew rapidly. She drew a paper from a portfolio and came back to him, the painting at her side. Rob crossed his arms over his chest and waited. At last, hesitantly, she held up the picture.
Rob’s shaft came immediately to full attention.
She had painted a scene fit for the Kama Sutra—a scene of a couple making love on a huge carved bed. The woman, triumphantly astride the man, wore the elaborate silver headdress of a goddess. The muscular man’s hair was a dark brown, his face partially hidden.
But the face of the goddess was definitely his wife’s.
After a moment of dumb astonishment, Rob lifted the painting out of her hands and placed it on the nearest chair. His arms closed around her, and he clamped her body tight against his. “I am not perfectly sure, but I believe that is a very beautiful painting. I will examine it further later.”
For the first time in making love to Iantha, Rob felt no need to hold himself back. Fiercely he took her mouth with his, his tongue entering her deeply in an echo of the entry that must be only moments away. With one hand still holding her to him, he tugged her shift over her head and began to fumble with the buttons of his britches. He made little headway, but could not bring himself to let her go.
And then he felt her hands dealing with the buttons.
And her gentle fingers on his straining shaft.
She had never before touched him.
Rob groaned and fell backward onto the bed, pulling her down with him. He never knew how he got the britches off. Her touch blinded him to everything but his need for her. Some part of him wanted to see her above him, as she had painted herself. But sheer, primitive, masculine need demanded that he achieve his own triumph.
He covered her with his body and joined it with hers. She lifted her hips to welcome him. Her sheath tightened around him. Over his ragged breathing he heard her moaning. She grew tighter and writhed against him, banishing all thought.
But he heard her joyous, ecstatic cry.
And followed it with his own.
They made love twice more before exhaustion claimed them, the next times more slowly and with tender murmurs. As he drifted off to sleep, replete and content, Rob knew that if he dreamed erotically again, his silver goddess would be included in that dream.
And another thought struck him.
Might he dream of both of them?
And in an instant he knew that he did not want that.
He would always want his silver goddess alone with him.
Shining, pure and perfect.
More than a week passed with no further alarms. In spite of the anxiety that never completely left her, Iantha thought that, in some ways, she had never known a happier time. Neither she nor Rob uttered the word love, but she could feel it growing between them. They could not be near one another without touching. They made love every night and slept in each other’s arms. When Rob’s business took him from her side for even a short while, she found herself listening for his footfalls. And when he stepped into a room, his eyes found hers in the next instant, and her heart leapt in her breast.
Only to plummet when she recalled her danger.
She could not ignore the fact that someone kept watch in her vicinity every minute. Burnside or Thursby, Harry or Daniel, Feller and one his lads from the stable were to be found in the corridor every time she walked through a door.
In addition to that, in spite of his bravado, John’s arm continued to pain him. One day it would appear to be healing, and the next the wound would open again. He doggedly ignored it, except to allow Rogers to dress it with an herbal salve that Rob had brought from India.
“It worked well for me on several occasions,” Rob assured Iantha, “including the tiger episode.”
But she could not help worrying. Infection had brought more than one strong soldier low. She could not bear the thought of losing her big brother, especially when he had been injured protecting her. It hardly surprised her that her feelings went from euphoric to panicky in a moment.
Near the end of the second week neither Sam nor Vijaya had returned, but a letter arrived from London, addressed in the prince’s graceful script. Gailsgill brought it to Rob as Iantha struggled to learn to read an old manuscript in the library. Rob hastily opened it.
“Thank God. I hope he has found something pertinent.” He spread out the folded paper, revealing a page covered in beautiful symbols. “Hmm. He has written in Sanskrit. He must desire secrecy.” Rob read silently, then looked up at Iantha. “Well, this is an interesting development.” He began to translate aloud.
My dear friend—
An event of interest has occurred. Lord Alton has been murdered in his bed. Unfortunately, this incident happened not long after I arrived in London, and was perpetrated with a blade. As before, there are those who would like to lay his untimely departure at my door. I have found it expedient to become unavailable for a period. Do not be concerned. They will not find me.
On the subject of primary interest to you, I have discovered nothing about the younger Raunds—now known as Lord Alton, I suppose. However, I have stumbled onto another bit of disturbing information. My elder brother tells me that on his first trip to Demerara—some eight years ago—he encountered Lord Sebergham who, as you know, had been sent there by his father. Sebergham had so dissipated himself that he died, apparently of overconsumption of alcoholic beverages.
Of particular interest is the fact that the baron also had an English friend, a man of low birth named Higgans, who worked on the coffee plantation as an overseer. My brother describes him as dark-haired with startlingly blue eyes, not unlike the former baron. This description appears to me to fit your neighbor, the man you know as Carl Fraser, Baron Sebergham, and that man does not appear to be in London.
I recommend that you become very cautious of him.
Vijaya
Looking thunderstruck, Rob dropped the letter onto the desk. “Egad! What a tale. I believe I shall make it my business to call at Sebergham’s home immediately.”
“But Feller said Sebergham’s butler told him that his lordship was in London.”
“Perhaps he has been there. If he is our man, Lord Alton’s death may be his work. I want to be sure, however, that he is not in this area now. It sounds as though he may be in hiding.”
Iantha jumped to her feet. “But you might be hurt!” She ran to him, flung herself into his lap and clutched at his coat. “Oh, Rob, please don’t go. I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you.”
The warmth of his strong arms enclosed her. “Nothing will happen to me.” His lips brushed her temple. �
�As I told you, I am extremely durable. I will be careful, and I will not go alone.”
A sob escaped Iantha. She couldn’t bear it. She just couldn’t!
Rob let her cry until she hiccuped to a stop. He then tipped her chin up to look at him. “I must investigate, Iantha. You know that I must.”
Fishing in her pocket for her handkerchief, Iantha nodded. She blew her nose and wiped her eyes. “I know. Just promise me that you will take the greatest care.”
“Of course. Come now, that’s my strong lady.” He kissed her lightly on the cheek.
Iantha did not feel very strong. “You will be very careful?”
“I have told you I will.” Rob pulled her against his hard-muscled chest. “I must return to make love to you, my goddess.”
Chapter Nineteen
The rest of the afternoon took on a nightmarish quality for Iantha. She sat in the morning room with John, neither of them wanting to stay in the large drawing room alone. They remembered the last time they had done so all too well. With Camille dead, Iantha could not imagine anyone else in the house opening the door to assassins, but then…
She had never suspected Camille.
Iantha found herself jumping at every little sound. Visions of Rob dying at Sebergham’s hand tormented her, and she could not talk herself out of them. She tried sketching in her notebook, but as before when she felt disturbed, the images she produced were gloomy and stiff. She began to draw Baron Sebergham with a knife in his heart.
John calmly read from a novel—which he assured her was not in the least of an improving nature. Grinning, he offered to read her the passages about ghosts, but Iantha was in no frame of mind for that sort of brotherly humor. And she recognized it as a cover for his own anxiety.
When Rob had been gone for almost two hours, she put her notebook aside and simply waited, pacing about and from time to time staring out the windows. It was on one of her circuits that her gaze fell on John’s arm. She hurried to him and examined his sleeve. “Oh, John! You are bleeding again. It has soaked all the way through your coat.”
“Drat!” John laid his book aside and peered at the blood. “That must have happened when I stretched just now. I thought it stung a bit.”
“Why didn’t you have Mrs. Lamonby stitch it in the first place?” Iantha frowned disapprovingly.
“Because I did not want to be stitched.” He scowled back at her.
“Well, it would have gotten well sooner in the long run. You’d best go and let Rogers put a fresh bandage on it.”
John examined the bloody sleeve again. “It can wait until Rob returns.” A drop of blood falling to the floor put the lie to this optimistic view.
“You are bleeding on the carpet. Do go at once.” Iantha tugged him to his feet by his good arm and propelled him toward the door with a hand on his back.
He dug in his heels. “I am not going to leave you alone.”
“I am not alone. Feller is right beside the door. We will walk upstairs with you. I want to go to my room for a while in any event. Rob will surely be back soon.” Iantha offered up a silent prayer that it be true.
Hearing the argument, Feller put his head into the room, considering John with a practiced eye. “Lady Duncan has the right of it, Major. You won’t do her no good if you’re weak as a cat from losing blood. We’ll ring for Dan to help keep watch when we get upstairs.”
Thus bullied on all sides, John capitulated, and the three of them went up, John to his bedchamber and Iantha to hers. Feller took up his post outside her door. She pulled the bell rope for Daniel and went to resume her vigil at the window.
Suddenly she heard Feller’s voice. “Here now! What are you doing up here, mates?”
Iantha hastened to the door and opened it. She beheld two men in coal-stained clothes, their faces black. The coal men on this floor? Their only job was to deliver coal for the kitchen. As she tried to make sense of the situation, one of them lunged at Feller.
Iantha pushed the door shut and fumbled with the key. Before she could turn it, the door burst inward, throwing her back into the room. The second man followed her in, a wicked blade in one hand. A beard covered his cheeks and chin, and coal dust liberally coated his face, but Iantha knew him in an instant.
She could not mistake those piercing blue eyes.
She made a dash for the poker. Before she could reach it, the man’s fingers closed in her hair, pulling her head back and jerking her up against him. The knife pressed against her throat, and a trickle of blood slid down her neck. Iantha grew still.
“Very good, my haughty lady. I see you remember your last lesson. That is excellent. It will help you learn the next, more advanced one to my satisfaction. I have just the place for a schoolroom—a secluded spot, hidden away.” He nudged her with a knee in her back and started steering her toward the door with his body.
Stunned with horror for a moment, Iantha moved forward mechanically. Dear heaven! Were all of her worst nightmares to become manifest? He really was here! He really did intend to do to her what he had done before!
And more.
His threats had been horribly real. For several heart-beats fear filled her mind, leaving no chink for rational thought. Then gradually it began to clear. The situation would not be as before. She would not allow it. She was no longer a terrified eighteen-year-old.
She had claimed her power.
But her tormentor did not know that. He trusted too much in his own power. That would make him careless. Sooner or later he would make some small mistake.
And she would be ready.
Higgans forced her out into the hall in time to see Feller deliver a crushing right to his opponent’s jaw. The man went down like a felled tree. Feller whirled to face her and her captor. He saw the knife at her throat and froze. John and his valet were racing down the hall toward them—John with a pistol in his hand—but they also came to an immediate halt.
“Very good, gentlemen,” the imposter baron purred. “I see that you appreciate the situation. If you will be so good as to clear the way, I will not need to cut Lady Duncan’s throat.” All the men stepped back, but continued to look alert. “No, no. That will not do. All of you—into that room to my right. Close the door and toss out the key.”
Her protectors hesitated, glaring defiantly at Higgans. He yanked on her hair and pressed harder on the knife. The rivulet of blood increased. Iantha winced, but did not cry out.
John snarled. “If you hurt her again, I will cut you limb from limb.”
“You will be welcome to try—after I cut her to bits.” He shifted the knife slightly. “Before you can move, I could give you her ear.” He shifted again, bringing the point against her cheek. “Or take out an eye.” The knife moved back to her throat. “And still kill her if you come at me. Get in the room. And take the man behind me with you.”
He turned his back to the wall, and Iantha saw Daniel creeping toward them up the main staircase. When the young man realized he had been seen he turned and bolted back down the stairs.
Higgans laughed and called after him, “Tell Lord Duncan when he arrives that we will await him in the old castle.”
Seeing that the footman would bring reinforcements, John, Rogers and Feller reluctantly entered the room and tossed out the key. An ironlike arm closed around Iantha’s waist from behind, and with a lightning swoop, Higgans scooped up the key and turned it in the lock. Iantha tried to wrench away. Before she could twist free, the knife pricked her cheek.
“Don’t try that again, slut, or I will take your eye now. Or perhaps both of them. Difficult to paint with no eyes.” He turned so that he could drag her backward down the corridor.
Iantha let him do it. She would wait for a better opportunity. Higgans seemed to believe that Rob was on his way home. Rob would come after them, she knew without a doubt. She must stand ready to help him in whatever way presented itself. She closed her eyes and reached for her control, shoving her fear into a far corner of her mind.
&n
bsp; Higgans pulled her through the door into the old castle and locked it behind him. He towed her unwilling body up the stairs toward the battlements. At a landing halfway up the circular steps he stopped. “This will do. He will have to come up to me. I will be able to kill him easily.” He bent his lips to her ear and blew his breath into it. “I want you to see that. I will use your little pistol.” Laughing quietly, he shifted the knife to the hand with which he held her, and pressed it to her breast. “You will be silent, of course.”
Iantha judged it better not to answer. She ducked her head and did her best to appear submissive.
“Ah. Already silent. Excellent. Of course, if you do not remain so, you will pay dearly for it later. I may drop you partway down as we descend the rope.” Iantha tensed, and Higgans chuckled. “You did not think I would be foolish enough to attempt to go out the door, did you? They will search for us, of course, but not in the right place. I am no longer Lord Sebergham, nor even plain Tom Higgans. I have a new life—one you shall share—for a while.”
At that moment the sound of the lower door opening floated up to them, followed by stealthy footsteps. “Fools,” he snarled in her ear. “They should know every murmur echoes in a place like this.” He pulled her small pistol from his pocket with his free hand and aimed it down the stairwell. “If you make a sound, this blade will be in your heart with your next breath.”
Before she had opportunity to think, she heard familiar footfalls climbing the stairs. Rob! Iantha knew it was he. She could feel his presence. Her captor was staring intently down the stairs, the pistol steady.
This was the moment.
Patricia Frances Rowell Page 24
