“Easy, Mama Bear. I’m not after your adopted cub.” He moved to the window and followed the lazy path of a large gray cloud.
“How do we figure out if the tie was placed by the corpse out of spite or hatred toward Felix versus an act of desperation and opportunity?”
“Perhaps it was both.”
“How so?”
Adair resumed his seat behind his desk, and Charley took hers as well. “The killer and Lady Winthrop have an argument, the killer stabs the baroness and panics, the killer comes across Felix during his wardrobe crisis and helps himself to the tie while the others are distracted. The killer then drops the tie by the body, hoping the authorities will discover it and link Felix to the murder, removing suspicion from him and injuring Felix in the process.”
“Who would want to hurt Felix?”
“If it’s someone at the Augusta, which I think it must be for him to move about so freely, I imagine the killer sees Felix as a threat of some kind.”
“How could anyone feel threatened by such a novice? Felix hasn’t even secured his first part yet.”
“Had he been practicing for his audition at the theater? Could one of the actors have seen his potential as a great talent?”
“It’s possible. He had been preparing for his monologue for weeks.” She frowned. “After his audition, Piper praised his skill and said he would be the lead actor in no time. With Christopher Gordon standing nearby, Felix grew uncomfortable and shrugged the comment off.”
“I take it Gordon’s the lead actor for the Augusta.”
“From Felix’s response, I would say yes.” Her eyes widened. “You don’t think Christopher Gordon killed Lady Winthrop, do you?”
“Everyone is under suspicion until I locate the killer. I interviewed Gordon right after the murder. Nothing seemed amiss with his statement.”
She shook her head. “Everything we’ve discussed seems so farfetched. I’m just as apt to believe two red ties broke on the same day at the same theater as I am the killer coming across Felix in the wardrobe, or Mr. Gordon removing his dramatic rival.”
Adair could not fault her logic. All three potential scenarios did have large puncture marks all through their centers. “True. None of those possibilities involve Lord Winthrop either. The baron has been decidedly absent during the entire investigation.”
“It’s odd how quickly he suggested opportunistic footpads were to blame for his wife’s brutal death.”
“Let’s not forget how he instructed his servants to clean the corpse before the coroner’s examination.”
“Perhaps I’ll send Joseph a note requesting an audience. I would be interested in hearing what, if anything, he discovered during his conversation with the baron.”
The muscles in Adair’s neck locked in place at her casual use of the coroner’s Christian name.
Charley’s eyes widened and she fumbled for her timepiece. “Blast. I’ve got to go.”
More of Adair’s muscles grew taut, rigid with the need to control. Tonight, she would have dinner with the Scot. He hadn’t missed Murdoch’s interest. The damned mountain of a man vibrated with pent-up desire. And even Adair could see how handsome the man was.
Sensing his turmoil, Charley glanced up from her preparations to leave. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
She studied his face before dropping her gaze to his hand. “You’re clenching and unclenching your fist. That’s always been a sign of your battle with anger.”
Leave it to Charley to notice something so inconsequential—and remember it. She might not be able to remember the name of a plant without extensive study, but she could always recall tiny details about people.
“Forget it. I don’t want to jeopardize our newfound truce and friendship by being a beast before the ink dries.”
“Jeopardize…” Her voice trailed off as understanding dawned. “I’m having dinner with some dear friends. Nothing for you to be concerned about.”
“You’re not paying attention if you believe the Scot’s interest in you is not something I should be worried about.” Adair cringed, wishing he could suck the damning words back into his big mouth. He waited for her to tell him to bugger off. But the harsh set down never came. In fact, she appeared to be looking inward, as if sifting through a batch of old memories, one by one.
Finally, her green gaze lifted. “I’m having dinner at the home of my mentor, Angus Buchanan. Lachlan Murdoch is Mr. Buchanan’s nephew.”
Adair knew her words were meant to appease, but all he could focus on was the fact that Murdoch had gotten to spend the four of the last five years with Charley. “So you and Murdoch grew close.”
“Yes, though not in the way you’re obviously thinking.” She hesitated a moment. “The first year of my apprenticeship was difficult.”
Baker Tilly had mentioned as much. Buchanan had somehow found out that Charley had cried herself to sleep at night and reported the information to her parents.
“Sensing my melancholia, Mr. Buchanan began inviting me to dine with his family. Once a week, Lachlan and his parents would join us. He showed me how to play chess and took much enjoyment out of trouncing me each time.” Nostalgia softened the frown lines on her beautiful face. “Had Mr. Buchanan and Lachlan not have taken me under their collective wings in those early days, I don’t know what I would have done. Wallowed in loneliness and self-pity, no doubt.”
If Adair had been more flexible, he would have kicked himself in the arse for being such an insensitive ass. Murdoch had clearly been there for her when she had needed him. Where had Adair been? Railing against the vagaries of women.
“Let us get you home so you won’t be late.” Adair held out his arm.
“Thank you for understanding. Dinner won’t be an intimate gathering. In fact, I believe it will be a group of Society members. I shall have to brace myself for Mr. Hermann’s next attack.”
He felt the slight tremor in the hand on his sleeve. “He won’t cause you any trouble, I swear it. However, if it will make you feel safer, I can be nearby.”
“You would do that for me?”
“Charley.” He halted and nudged her around to face him. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to protect you.” He nodded toward the corridor. “If keeping you safe required me to burn my library to the ground, I would set it aflame without hesitation or remorse.” He swallowed around his quickly tightening throat. “You are the most important thing in my life. You always have been. I’m just so damned sorry for the pain I caused you.”
Swiping away tears, she said, “I’m sorry, too. I love you so much. I never stopped—not even while I was angry at you.”
A flush of cold heat washed over him. Ice crackled in his ears, and his knees felt like they were on the verge of buckling.
“Cam?” Charley whispered. “What’s wrong? Did I upset you?”
“Say it again,” he commanded in a voice not his own.
Wariness crept into her expression. “I love you.”
Adair closed his eyes, and his chest heaved once, twice, three times before he choked out a reply. “I didn’t dare hope.” He fought to draw in a deep breath, fighting for control. “If friendship was the most you were willing to give, I would have gladly accepted your offering. But dear God, it would have killed me never to kiss you again.” Never be able to make love to you until we were both exhausted and boneless with satisfaction.
She cradled his jaw and lifted up on tiptoe to kiss him, a chaste, exploratory meeting of the lips. It was the first time she had initiated intimate contact, and Adair’s heart nearly burst from his chest.
He’d barely had time to absorb that little shock before her kiss changed from exploration to pillaging. She devoured him as if she had not feasted in months. A state he knew all too well.
Wanting to feel every inch of her along his length, he curled one arm around her narrow waist and one beneath her tempting bottom. He lifted until her sweet face smiled down on him. The combination of h
er acceptance and his cock pulsing against the warm crux of her legs was almost his undoing.
“Charley,” he ground out after she finished another thorough exploration of his mouth. “We must stop before I’m unable to.”
Rather than scare her off, his declaration unleashed a siren. Charlotte resumed the kiss, only this time she was wanton, letting him know in certain terms that she meant to have what she wanted.
Chapter Fifteen
“This is the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever done, Piper Scott.” Mumbling to herself, Piper’s steps slowed when the Augusta Theatre came into view.
Less than three hours ago, Felix had stormed into the shop, furious that Mr. Adair thought someone from the theater had killed Lady Winthrop. Piper had finally managed to calm him down enough to learn Mr. Adair had questioned him about what he might have seen the day of her ladyship’s murder.
She had tried to smooth over the situation, explaining how Mr. Adair had to consider everyone a suspect until the killer was brought to justice. Her comment had the opposite effect, for he had become even more agitated.
“Piper, you weren’t there. Mr. Adair believes it’s someone at the theater, but he doesn’t have any evidence that points to any one person yet.”
“Did her ladyship have any enemies at the Augusta?”
“None that I know of. Like I told Mr. Adair, Lady Winthrop chatted up all the actors and even Mr. Riordan. Everyone knew she gave money to the theater. No one who needed the job would be daft enough to reveal his dislike.”
Something about Felix’s restlessness caused dread to filter into her stomach. He acted as though he were contemplating some—probably ludicrous—scheme, but hadn’t quite committed himself to the plan yet.
“Felix, I can hear the wheels churning in your mind. What are you about?”
Rather than answer her question, he said, “You should have seen Mrs. Fielding’s face when I told them about breaking the red tie off my Roman costume. Her face turned white as snow.”
“Mrs. Fielding was there?”
He nodded. “She mostly listened. I think she was there to make sure Mr. Adair was nice to me.”
The mild sense of dread she had been experiencing formed into a hard roiling knot inside her stomach. “You said something about a red tie?”
“Yes, yes,” he said impatiently. “We broke the tie off the cloak and had to scramble to fix it. That stupid tie made me late for my audition.” He glanced up at her and exclaimed, “What? You have the same look as Mrs. Fielding had. What aren’t the two of you telling me?”
With a clarity that surprised her, Piper recalled the moment Mrs. Fielding found a scrap of material lying next to Lady Winthrop’s corpse. She had asked her mentor about it a few times and received noncommittal responses in return. Could someone have stolen the broken tie from wardrobe and placed it by the corpse, hoping Felix would be charged with the murder? Had Mrs. Fielding been protecting Felix all this time?
What a muddle.
“Have you any enemies at the theater, Felix?”
“What’s that supposed to mean? What are you hiding?”
Color drained from her brother’s face and Piper’s heart clutched for the worry she was causing him. But she didn’t know what to do. Felix suspected enough now that distracting him with a mollifying response would only increase his anxiety—and perhaps damage his trust in her.
Sending up a silent prayer that she wouldn’t do more harm than good, she relayed everything she knew and suspected about the case to her little brother. He did not interrupt once, nor did his still developing self-confidence crumble to ashes under the possibility that one of his friends had betrayed him.
What she saw instead was the slow transformation from boy to man. Instead of being hurt, he became angry. Not irrational or passionate, but controlled and calculating.
And that’s when her brother stormed back out of the shop, promising to find Lady Winthrop’s murderer before sunrise.
Piper had prayed Mrs. Fielding would return before she closed the shop. Her mentor always knew what to do in difficult situations. But her employer never surfaced. Panicked and heartsick for her brother’s safety, Piper dashed home, settled her little sister with a neighbor, and left a note for her mother explaining where she had left Winnie and that she had gone to help Mrs. Fielding with a patient.
Now Piper stood in the shadows near the theater, wondering what in the world she would do once she got inside. Another shiver tore down her spine, one of several she had experienced since leaving the shop.
She couldn’t shake the notion that malevolent eyes had been following her the entire time—and still were. She pushed deeper into the shadows before she caught herself. Hiding wasn’t an option. Her brother needed her, and she wouldn’t let him down.
She moved into the lamplight and hoped her courage didn’t come too late for Felix.
Chapter Sixteen
Charlotte stared down into Cam’s silver-blue eyes and said the first thing that popped into her mind. “What’s on the third floor?”
Cam’s body stilled so completely she would have thought him a statue if not for the pulsing evidence of life at the juncture of her legs. The need to fold her legs around his hips nearly overwhelmed her. She wanted him closer to her center. Closer to the deepest part of her. But her narrow skirts impeded any such wanton action.
“My bedchamber,” he said in a low, guttural voice. His breath whispered across her heated flesh.
“Shall we continue our tour?” Charlotte caught her breath, unable to believe the level of her boldness. She chalked it up to far too many lost years and too many nights with nothing but her imagination and unspent longing. If he refused her, the humiliation would be unbearable.
Silver flames flickered in his eyes. “Do you fully understand what you’re asking of me, Charley?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Be sure, love. Once I carry you up those stairs, there’s no turning back. Ever.”
“I have no further interest in what is behind us, only what lies ahead.” She allowed herself to melt against him while she slipped her tongue into the warm cavern of his mouth. Home.
Without breaking contact, Cam shifted his hold to lift her in his arms.
“What are you doing?” she demanded. “You’re injured.”
“Stop thinking, Charley. Just feel.”
“I can’t, not in this. I won’t have you reinjuring yourself on my account.”
“You can patch me up later. I won’t be denied this—holding you, kissing you, taking you to my bed.”
“But—”
“Don’t struggle, it only increase my pain.” He winked, then kissed her. A long, breath-stealing kiss. A drugging kiss that muddled her thoughts to the point she did not admonish him when he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the stairs.
He eased away. “You can continue your ravishment in ten, nine, eight”—he raced up the stairs, two at a time—“seven, six, five”—he shoved open his bedchamber door—”four, three, two”—he slowly released her legs, allowing her body to glide down his as he said—“one.” He bent and took her mouth, no longer content to follow her lead.
The entire time his tongue dueled with hers, he expertly divested them of their clothing, pausing only to remove her stays and their shoes. By the time he had her down to her chemise and himself down to his smalls, her head was spinning in a sensual haze.
He guided her over to his massive bed. In the dim light, she could not make out the color of the bed hangings, though they appeared dark. Jewel tones, perhaps. Cam had always loved the color blue. Sapphire seemed a fitting choice for him.
He didn’t encourage her to climb atop. Instead, he coaxed her around to face the room, and then he backed her up until she felt the sturdy softness of his bed against her bottom.
After pressing a soft kiss to her lips, he trailed one finger over her cheek, along her neck and down the center of her chest where he met the delicate barrier of
her chemise. Her nipples hardened to the point of pain, and the moist area between her legs clenched tight.
The slight pressure of his hand covering her breast caused her back to arch, forcing her mound deeper into his palm. Her head tilted back in ecstasy when he gave a gentle squeeze.
“Cam,” she groaned.
Instead of giving her more, his hand disappeared. She jerked upright and saw him backing away, the evidence of his desire long and thick beneath the thin material of his smalls.
“Where are you going?” she asked in breathless confusion.
“Someplace where I can enjoy the view.”
She frowned, not understanding.
Then he shed his smalls and sat down in a large cushioned chair, facing her. “Remove the pins from your hair,” he ordered. “Please.”
Embarrassment replaced confusion. Did he really want to watch her do something so mundane as unpinning her hair? By the predatory gleam sparking in his silver eyes, she decided the answer was a resounding, Yes.
Lifting her arms, she began pulling the pins free, one by one, keeping a firm grip on them so she wouldn’t lose any.
“Drop them, sweet.” His voice had fallen an octave lower.
She started to argue, but he rested his head against the chair and continued to observe her through half-closed eyes. His new position appeared far too relaxed compared to the powerful thrumming going on inside her body. The last thing she wanted to do right now was to take a nap.
Confused again, she ventured, “Cam?”
“I’m here, Charley.” To prove his point, he grasped his thick manhood with one hand and flexed his hips.
Charlotte’s mouth went dry, and a dozen pins pinged against the hardwood floor.
“Carry on,” he breathed. “I love watching you come undone for me.”
With trembling fingers, she continued the task, all the while watching Cam stroke himself and hearing his breaths increase in intensity. After she released the last pin, she combed her fingers through her hair, certain she looked like a wild woman. What she wouldn’t do for a brush.
Night Storm (Bones & Gemstones Book 1) Page 27
