by Andrea Kane
"I'll climb down and help you," Aurora replied, extracting two more thick volumes, cradling them against her as she descended the wooden ladder.
She'd scarcely righted herself when Julian strode through the doorway, anticipation rippling through his powerful frame.
"Julian—what is it?" Aurora demanded.
"This." Julian held out a somewhat rusted but visibly ornate key for her inspection. "I found it lying alongside the falcon cages."
"Is that significant?" Aurora examined the worn scrap of metal intently. "I assume it was once used to keep the falcons locked in their cages."
"It was. I tried the key. It fit the locks perfectly."
"Then…?"
"This key looks exactly like the one my solicitor presented to me, the one that opened Geoffrey's strongbox. It has the same short shaft, slender notches, and gilded trim. I'm on my way to Slayde's study to see just how identical the two keys are."
"You're thinking that Geoffrey made James a key so he could gain entry to the strongbox?" Courtney questioned.
"That, of course, is the logical assumption." Julian frowned, turning the key over in his palm. "But I've got an excellent memory for detail. And although the similarities are stark and unmistakable, I don't recall the original key's notches being quite so close together."
"There is another possibility," Aurora proposed, the notion exploding inside her like fireworks. "Perhaps James commissioned a matching strongbox of his own—and a key that presumably unlocked not only his falcon cages, but that opened his strongbox as well. If so, perhaps that strongbox contains information as vital as that which Geoffrey bequeathed Julian."
Julian's head shot up, his astonished gaze fixed on his wife. "My theory precisely."
"Don't look so astounded, Julian," Courtney advised him cheerfully. "Aurora has the quickest and most inventive mind I've ever encountered in a man or a woman. You'd best accustom yourself to that fact."
"It would seem so." Julian eyed his wife, looking not the least bit threatened by Courtney's pronouncement. "Do you know, Rory, with your daring and intelligence, 'tis a pity you've been confined to Pembourne all these years."
"For the world's sake, perhaps, but not for Merlin's," Aurora quipped back, her grin impish. "I'd make an extraordinary mercenary—and a formidable adversary. So feel relieved that marriage has rendered me an ally."
Julian laughed, a rich, husky sound that permeated the room like warm honey. "I do, soleil. Very relieved." His gaze fell on the key and his laughter faded. "Time to test our theory."
"I'm going with you," Aurora declared instantly.
"As am I." Slowly Courtney eased to her feet. "Although I'm a bit dubious about your suspicions. Had James possessed such a strongbox, Slayde would have known of its existence."
"If the box were among James's personal effects." Julian was halfway to the door. "If not, it could still exist—hidden. In which case it's up to us to determine its whereabouts."
Only three steps behind her husband, Aurora paused and cast a swift glance at Courtney. "Do you mind if I run on ahead?"
"Of course not." Courtney waved for her to do just that. "Oh, one question: who is Merlin? Other than a falcon, that is."
"A most extraordinary mercenary—the one I offered myself to at Dawlish's a fortnight ago," Aurora called over her shoulder. "I'll explain later. I don't want to miss anything."
With that she darted after Julian.
Slayde was already trying the key, Julian looming over him, when she burst into the study. "It doesn't fit," Slayde announced, extracting the key and holding it up beside the original. "You're right. The notches are different. As far as this second key fitting anything other than the falcon cages—more specifically, some hidden strongbox—wouldn't James have told someone if he had commissioned such a box? How else could he ensure that it fell into the right hands? He certainly couldn't assume someone would pass by our falcon cages and suspect the key used to unlock them would also unlock some unknown strongbox."
"Not unless the person passing by had already seen the key to Geoffrey's box and noticed a resemblance." Julian clasped his hands behind his back, his body taut with concentration. "Your solicitor," he asked abruptly. "Is it Henry Camden?"
Slowly Slayde lowered the keys to his desk. "Yes. It is."
"I thought as much. He's mine as well, and has been for years. In fact, his father George was retained by my great-grandfather—and yours, I suspect, given the nature of Geoffrey and James's partnership."
"That makes sense. And, yes, the Camdens have served us for generations. Both Henry and his father before him were outstanding solicitors—consistently trustworthy and competent."
"Very competent." A glint of speculation lit Julian's eyes. "And very trustworthy. Maybe trustworthy enough to endow with not one, but two strongboxes for safekeeping—Geoffrey's and James's."
"'Tis possible," Slayde murmured. "Henry would never have mentioned James's strongbox to you—not without specific instructions to do so. He's far too principled. He'd wait until James's descendent approached him."
"You," Julian qualified.
"Yes—I."
"Then we'd best be off now." Julian plucked the second key from the desk, glancing out the study window as he did. "There are but a few hours of daylight left. We'll ride until dark, then stay at an inn and be waiting for Henry first thing in the morning when he opens his office."
"No." Slayde gave an adamant shake of his head.
"No?" Julian started.
"You heard me, no." Slayde folded his arms across his chest, his eyes a steely gray. "I won't leave Pembourne, not with the dangers hovering at its gates." He held up his palm, silencing Julian's objections. "Don't waste my time with senseless arguments. My family name means a great deal to me, but not as much as my wife and child. I'll tear this manor apart piece by piece, scrutinize every object and document I find for hidden clues. But until that black diamond is found and restored, until the invasions of my home cease to occur and the threatening notes stop arriving, I will not leave this estate. Period."
Julian sucked in his breath. "Fine. We'll send for Henry, then; ask him to ride to Pembourne at once. It will delay our answers a day or two, but if that's the only way…"
"It's not."
Both men jerked about to stare at Aurora, who shot them an exasperated look.
"Have you forgotten that Slayde is not the only living Huntley?" she demanded. "Married or not, I'm still James's great-granddaughter. Slayde, pen a letter of permission for me to take to Mr. Camden. Then you remain here with Courtney, and I'll ride to Somerset with Julian. We'll forfeit not an instant of time, and if Henry is indeed in possession of a Huntley strongbox, he can present it to me."
Triumph flashed in Julian's eyes. "You're absolutely right—he can. An excellent idea, soleil."
"I think so, too." Aurora gave him a beatific smile, gathered up her skirts, and headed for the door. "I'll have your carriage brought around at once."
* * *
Darkness had fallen when Julian unlocked the room the innkeeper had provided them and guided Aurora inside. Frowning, he hesitated in the doorway, glancing up and down the semi-darkened corridor of the quiet Somerset inn. Distant clinking sounds reached his ears from the floor below as the inn's coffeehouse patrons enjoyed their dinner and port. Other than that, all was still, the corridor housing the sleeping quarters as deserted as the stairway leading to it.
Julian's gaze swept the hall one last time before he stepped into the room, shutting and bolting the door.
"Julian, what is it?" Aurora demanded, her turquoise eyes bright with curiosity. "That's the second time you've checked behind us since we arrived, not to mention the long intervals you spent staring out our carriage window during the journey. Is someone following us?"
"It appears not." Julian crossed over, moving aside the drapes and peering down to the ground below. "Although I can't shake the feeling…" He shrugged, turning to his wife, his smile restored. "F
orgive me, soleil. I didn't mean to distress you."
Aurora arched a brow as if deciding whether to question him further.
"If there's something to be concerned about, you'll be the first to know," Julian assured her, consciously forcing himself to relax. Until he had proof that they were indeed being followed, there was no point in alarming his wife.
"I wasn't feeling distressed or alarmed," Aurora clarified, stunning Julian yet again with her unique blend of audacity and candor. "I was feeling neglected." Slowly she unfastened her mantle and tossed it to the chair. "I'm relieved to hear there was a reason for your decided lack of interest during this carriage ride, much unlike our previous ones. I'd rather learn that your actions were a show of caution rather than disinterest."
"Disinterest?" Julian would have laughed at the irony of his wife's statement had his body not been screaming its own immediate blatant contradiction. Just her words, her provocative tone, ignited his blood, set him on fire. "No, soleil, I assure you, disinterest is one reaction I never have around you."
"I'm glad." With a siren's smile, Aurora tugged the pins from her hair, shaking it out in a luxuriant crimson waterfall. "Then perhaps you'd like to make up for your earlier lack of attention—right now, in this lovely cozy inn."
"With pleasure." Julian stalked across the room, capturing Aurora and hauling her into his arms. "I'm suddenly grateful Henry's office isn't closer to Devonshire," he muttered, his fingers deftly unfastening the buttons of his wife's gown in rapid succession. "Very grateful." Greedily he covered her mouth with his.
"So am I," Aurora breathed, unbuttoning Julian's shirt and tugging it free. Her palms slid inside, glided up the warm, hair-roughened skin of his chest.
Her thumbs brushed his nipples and the filaments of Julian's control snapped.
In seconds he had Aurora naked; a heartbeat later his own clothing was in a pile on the floor. Kicking it aside, he swept his wife to the bed, pausing only to yank back the bedcovers before he tumbled her to the sheets and lowered his full weight upon her.
"You make me insane," Julian said huskily, tangling his hands in her hair. "How many times have I had you these past few days—a dozen? More?" He kissed her—a deep, bone-melting kiss that sent blood pounding through his brain, desire hammering at his loins. "It's a wonder you can still walk—that either of us can breathe. And the most amazing part is, it's not enough. The fire between us just keeps blazing hotter, higher. I want you so much, I'm consumed with it." Tugging back her head, he buried his lips in hers.
Aurora responded instantly, wrapping her arms fiercely about Julian's back, arching up to increase the exquisite friction of their naked skin. "I want you the same way," she managed, shivering in the way that made live flames lick through his veins.
His knee wedged her thighs apart, his manhood hard and straining, already desperate for release.
Staring into Aurora's passion-glazed eyes, Julian abruptly stopped, his hands balling into fists on either side of her head.
Dammit. He wanted more than this, more than a swift, fevered coupling. He wanted to awaken his wife to yet another level of passion, to share the wonder of her discovery as he took her to new heights, to feel her come apart in his arms.
To satisfy another fantasy that had clawed at him since the moment he'd spied her at Dawlish's.
Vehemently he gritted his teeth, clamped down on his reckless need for completion.
"Julian?" Aurora sounded confused, her hands tugging at his shoulders, urging him down to her. "Why are you stopping?"
"Because I want to savor this—to savor you." He nipped lightly at her lower lip, trying to ignore the tantalizing motions of her body as she moved restlessly beneath him. "Soon," he promised huskily, kissing the scented hollow at her throat.
"No … now."
He shifted lower, teased one nipple with his tongue. "Not yet."
"Julian—please…"
Her plea burned through him like a brushfire, the urgent arching of her body more than he could bear. "All right, soleil—now."
Abandoning his intentions to prolong the moment, Julian shoved himself downward, gripping Aurora's thighs and lifting them high over his shoulders.
He felt her start of surprise, but he didn't wait, lowering his head and taking her in the most intimate of caresses. His lips opened her, his tongue gliding over her sweetness, possessing her in a hot, wild caress that nearly brought him to his knees. He heard her sharp cry of pleasure, felt her fingers clench in his hair, but all he knew was the unbearable ecstasy of her taste, her velvety softness, the tiny inner rippling of her flesh. He repeated the caress, taking her more fully, a hard shudder wracking his body as she sobbed his name, begged him to continue.
He couldn't stop if his very life depended on it.
Anchoring her legs, Julian gave her what they both needed, penetrating her with deep, heated strokes of his tongue, his heart slamming against his ribs as he brought his wife closer and closer to climax.
Abruptly she arched, a high thin cry escaping her as she plunged over the edge, her body dissolving into exquisite spasms of completion.
Julian couldn't withstand another moment.
Raising up, he surged into her in one blind, inexorable thrust, his hands gripping her bottom, pulling her harder, more fully against him, forcing him as deep inside her as he could go. His eyes slid shut and he shuddered, her contractions pulsing around his rigid shaft—once, twice—igniting the climax already clamoring at his loins.
With a feral shout he surrendered, crushing her hips to his, pouring his seed into her in great explosive bursts of release.
Drenched in sweat, Julian collapsed, Aurora's body damp and shivering under his. He could scarcely breathe, much less speak, so he simply buried his face in the fragrant cloud of his wife's hair, his thumbs gently stroking her hips.
It took long minutes for the dark haze of passion to lift.
"Did I hurt you?" he managed at last, his voice sounding hoarse, shattered to his own ears.
Aurora shook her head against his shoulder.
"But I'm hurting you now." Julian attempted to lift himself away, only to feel Aurora's arms clamp more tightly about his back.
"No," she whispered fiercely.
Unsteadily, Julian rose up, propping himself on his elbows and studying his wife's beautiful, flushed face from beneath hooded lids. "No?"
"No." She wriggled a bit, her inner muscles tightening, drawing him into an exquisite pool of liquid heat. "Stay with me."
Julian bit back a groan, his body surging to life with astounding speed. "I'm here, soleil," he replied softly, pushing deeper into her velvety warmth. "Better?"
"Ummm … no—not better, wonderful."
A chuckle rumbled from Julian's chest. "Do you know," he murmured, stroking damp strands of hair from her face, "for a woman who tells me she adores my lovemaking, you say 'no' with appalling frequency?"
Aurora's lips curved. "Only when you attempt to leave me or make me wait. Although I must say, tonight's delay was magnificent—worth every exquisite moment."
"I've imagined doing that to you since that first night in Dawlish's," Julian confessed, tracing her soft kiss-swollen mouth with his forefinger.
Her flush intensified. "Then what took you so long?"
"I was busy realizing my other fantasies."
"I see." Aurora raised her legs to hug his flanks. "Does that mean all those fantasies have now been exhausted?"
"Exhausted?" Julian shook his head, rolling over and settling Aurora astride him. "Somehow, soleil, I doubt that word will ever apply to us." He brought her mouth down to his, deepening his presence in her body and unleashing the inferno that seemed never to subside.
And the fire raged on.
* * *
Aurora was lost in slumber, her body curved softly against Julian's, when he heard the creak from the hallway.
It was a fleeting sound, gone as quickly as it had come. But it was enough.
The hair on
the back of his neck stood up, every one of his muscles tensing with awareness. Cautiously he eased away from his wife, simultaneously reaching to the floor and groping for his clothes—never taking his eyes off the bolted door. He found his breeches, jerking them on in a few purposeful tugs, then snatched up his coat, rifling through it until he extracted the pistol he'd concealed within. Slowly, pistol cocked, he prowled toward the thin shaft of light emanating from beneath the closed doorway.
Another creak—only this time closer—right outside the room.
Someone was definitely out there. The question was, who?
Eyes narrowed, Julian reached his destination, his fingers noiselessly slipping the bolt free, then closing around the handle.
