by Candace Camp
She went limp all over and opened lambent eyes to gaze at him, her mouth curling in a satisfied way. She reached up and stroked his arm. “But...what about...you know, the rest of it? What about you?”
“Oh, we’ll get there, never fear.” He smiled. “We’re just taking the long way around.”
He kissed her lightly, his fingertips skimming over her, teasing at her breasts, her stomach, her legs. Soft as a feather, he slid his fingers up the inside of one leg, moving closer and closer to her core without touching it, then drifting back down her other thigh.
He kissed her mouth, long and thoroughly, before moving down over her neck and chest. He devoted extra time and care to her breasts, caressing and teasing, until her breath came short and sharp in her throat. His lips moved downward, over her ribs and onto her stomach, her abdomen. Lilah moved restlessly, murmuring his name, but still he lingered, opening her legs to kiss the insides of her thighs. Then, finally, his settled his mouth on her.
Lilah twitched and gasped. “Con! I... Ohhh.” She dug her hands into the sheet beneath her. Then it was a moaning “yes” that fell from her lips as pleasure rippled through her once again.
At last he parted her legs wider and moved between them, lifting her hips to receive him. He pushed into her slowly, watching the play of expressions across her face, savoring the sensation of her closing tight and hot around him. He thought he could stay here forever, but need drove him on. He thrust and retreated in an ageless rhythm, pumping harder, faster, as the pleasure gripped him. Everything inside him shattered, and a delight so wild, so deep, so intense that he could scarcely breathe, swept through him.
Con sank back onto the bed, breathless and beyond speech. Curling an arm around Lilah, he snuggled her close, nuzzling into her hair. He felt as if he’d been turned inside out. Tomorrow he might count himself a fool or the luckiest man on earth, he wasn’t sure. But right now, his whole world, his life, was here, wrapped in his arms.
* * *
LILAH WOKE UP, disoriented and groggy, as the bed moved beneath her. She rolled, snuggling into the warmth, and realized it was gone. She opened her eyes to see Con sitting up and turning away. There was little light to see him, but Lilah’s memory supplied the rest. She knew each curve of muscle, each line of bone. Indeed, she was certain she would know Con even if she could not see at all.
She reached out and laid her hand upon his back. He turned his head, sweeping his tangled hair back from his face. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“It’s all right.” Lilah could not keep from caressing his back. “Are you leaving?”
“I must.” He dropped back down on his elbow, slipping his hand beneath the covers and spreading it out across her stomach. “Can’t have Cuddington coming in and finding me in your bed.”
“No.” Lilah giggled at the thought of her somber maid’s horrified face. “I suppose not.”
She curved her hand over his cheek, the bristle of his morning stubble prickly beneath her touch. She wanted to ask him to stay, wanted to snuggle into the warm bed, pulling the covers up over them to shield them from the world. But she had done that last night, and she couldn’t ask again.
She wondered what he thought, how he felt, if he regretted coming to her bed, if he still thought this a mistake. But she didn’t ask. No longer on the firm ground of the old rules, uncertain of the future, she had only what she had here and now. She would live only in the moment and say nothing to spoil it.
Con leaned down to kiss her, and when he raised his head, his eyes had a heavy, slumberous look. His hand glided over her stomach and up to cup her breast. He propped his head on his hand, gazing at her, as he caressed her skin. He looked about to speak, but instead he bent again and kissed her again.
Nuzzling into her hair, he murmured, “Tell me you don’t hate me, Lilah.”
“I don’t hate you, Con.” Lilah smiled to herself, sliding her hand up and down his arm lazily.
“Tell me you don’t regret last night.”
“I don’t regret it.” She felt his small sigh of relief upon her ear. Imagine that, the cocksure Con Moreland uncertain.
“Good.” There was a hint of smug satisfaction in his voice now, but Lilah didn’t mind. Somehow it was arousing. Almost as arousing as his fingertip circling her nipple. “We must talk more about this house, you know. What you felt.”
“I know. We will. Just...not right now.”
“No.” He smiled and kissed the side of her neck, his hand slipping between her legs. Lilah drew in a sharp little breath as he began to stroke her. “Right now I have something else altogether on my mind.”
His mouth came back to hers, and all conversation ceased.
When Lilah awakened again, Con was gone. He had to leave; she knew that. He was protecting her. But still, she missed his presence. She lay for a few moments, letting herself drift in the pleasure of last night, taking each kiss, each caress, each electric thrill, and turning it over in her mind.
She felt limber and languid, stretched, filled, even thoroughly used in a titillating way. It made her blush to think of the things Con had done, the way she had reveled in it. She was discovering herself in all sorts of ways, and she wasn’t sure what to make of it. What she thought about herself. But she was eager to find out.
Down the hall, she heard a maid’s voice and Cuddington’s sharper one. Lilah jumped out of bed and flung on her nightgown, throwing the dressing gown onto the chair. She thought with horror of the sodden nightgown she had dropped on the floor of the kitchen. What had the servants made of that? Lilah turned as Cuddington entered, hoping she didn’t look as guilty as felt. Perhaps, she thought, she should start making changes in her life now.
“Cuddington,” she said in a casual voice as she pulled on her dressing gown. “You must miss London and Aunt Helena. Perhaps you should go back. Poppy can come down instead or one of the girls here could help me dress.”
“But, miss...who will do your hair?”
“Oh. Well, I’m sure one of the others—”
“Are you displeased with me, miss?” The woman drew herself up in righteous indignation.
“No, of course not. You’re an artist with hair, and you take excellent care of everything.” All that was true; she actually would miss Cuddington’s skills. But the danger of her finding out about Con and relaying that to Aunt Helena was too great.
“Then why are you sending me away?” Cuddington looked, amazingly, hurt.
“You’re Aunt Helena’s maid,” Lilah said reasonably. “Surely you want to get back—make sure her clothes have been handled correctly. You must find it dull here. The people are strangers.”
“Not all of them.” Her face softened a little, surprising Lilah even more. “I lived here before. Did Mrs. Summersley never tell you? I was your mother’s maid.”
Lilah stared. “You were?”
“Yes. From the time she was old enough to wear long skirts.” For the first time Lilah could remember, Cuddington smiled. “She was a sweet girl, so lovely, and her hair! It was just like yours, miss, and she loved to try out different styles. I was young then, too, and we, well, we enjoyed changing it up. People noticed because her hair drew one’s eye. Lady Battenborough even asked her one night who arranged her hair.”
“I...I never knew.” Lilah sank down onto the stool by the vanity. Was nothing what she’d thought?
Cuddington picked up the silver-backed brush and began to brush Lilah’s hair. “You were just a babe. You wouldn’t remember me. Mrs. Summersley was good enough to take me with her when she came to your mother’s funeral. She knew me well of course, and I’d helped her, too, in the course of my duties for Miss Eva. Your aunt is a good woman. I owe her a great deal.”
“Cuddington.” Lilah turned to face her. “Will you tell me honestly? Did my aunt send you to report back to her on what I did?”
“No! Miss, how can you think that? Mrs. Summersley wouldn’t ask that of me, nor would I agree to it. You’re Miss Eva’s child. That’s why I came. To make sure you were safe.” She scowled. “So nothing foolish might happen.”
Lilah’s eyebrows shot up. “Safe? You mean, from Con?”
The older woman’s face turned prim. “He’s a devilishly handsome man, miss.”
Lilah chuckled. “He is that. But Con wouldn’t harm me.” She turned back to face the mirror. “Then you would prefer to stay here?”
“Unless you wish me to leave.” She added reluctantly, “Mrs. Summersley is a saint, but she is very devoted to one fashion of hair.”
“No. If you want to stay, then you should.” Lilah had decided she would look at the world with new eyes. Perhaps she should do so with Cuddington. The woman was something of a dragon, but clearly she had hidden depths. After a moment, as Cuddington continued brushing her hair, Lilah said, “You knew my father as well then.”
“Oh, yes, Miss Eva loved that man. Sir Virgil was head over heels for her, too. He was in such a state when Miss Eva passed on. Roberts—that was his valet, miss—” Cuddington’s cheeks turned a little pink, surprising Lilah once again. “Roberts feared the master might do himself harm.”
“What of my grandfather? Was he still alive when you came here?”
“Oh, yes, but we didn’t see much of him. He spent his days in his office. Or up in that room of his. He liked to walk the maze. Your father, now, didn’t like that maze, and it scared Miss Eva. That’s why he let it go to ruin after Sir Ambrose died.” She paused, then went on in a confiding voice, “It’s my opinion Sir Virgil didn’t like his father much either. The man was barely cold in the ground and the master had Sir Ambrose’s things packed away in trunks.”
“All of them?”
Cuddington tilted her head, thinking. “I’m not sure, miss. That was when Miss Eva was in the family way, and I paid more attention to her than anything else. Poor thing, she could scarcely keep down anything but toast and water. But I remember Sir Virgil clearing out his father’s room. He even did some of the packing himself.”
That was interesting. “What did my father do with the trunks?”
“Why, I don’t know, miss. The attic perhaps?”
“Ask Ruggins about those trunks, would you? I would like very much to look in them.”
“Yes, miss.” Cuddington twisted Lilah’s hair up and secured it in a casual knot. “There now. I’ll just go and draw the water for your bath.” She started to the door, then stopped and turned back. “You know, Miss Lilah, if you’re wanting to know more about your grandfather, Roberts might be of some help. He did everything for your father for years.”
“Yes, I remember him.”
“Before he was Sir Virgil’s man, he was a footman here. He would know a good deal about Sir Ambrose, as well.”
“He’s still here?”
“Not working in the house, but he has a cottage on the estate.” Cuddington’s blush returned. “Your father left him a bit of money and the cottage when he passed on, so Roberts retired.”
“Cuddington, you’re a jewel.” Lilah silently took back all the bad things she had said about her aunt’s maid—well, her maid now, apparently.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
LILAH HAD THOUGHT that she might feel a little awkward, even embarrassed, when she saw Con again at breakfast. But as it turned out, all she felt was a rush of happiness when she walked into the dining room, and he jumped up to greet her.
He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, and it took all her willpower to pull back. “Con, the door is open.”
“Devil take the door.” He reached for her waist.
“We must talk.” Lilah drew a shaky breath.
“Must we?” He lowered his head, tantalizingly close.
“Yes.” She infused her voice with as much determination as she could. “You said so yourself.”
Con heaved a dramatic sigh and turned away. “Very well.” He pulled out her chair and took his own seat again. “I have some questions about last night.” When Lilah arched her brows, his eyes twinkled. “Not about that. I think I have that down.”
“You want to talk about my problem.”
“About your gift,” he corrected firmly. “At that séance, the way you summoned this spirit—”
“I didn’t summon him. I had no conscious thought about him or anything else. It just swept into me. Much as I hate to admit it, I think you were right in what you said that day in the maze. I was a conduit for the energy. It went through me, but Aunt Vesta used it to summon him.”
“Did you feel that way in the maze? When I touched you?”
“I don’t know. I may have. I wasn’t paying attention to it at the time. I was...um, rather resistant.” She ignored Con’s snort. “What I felt in the maze with you certainly wasn’t the same feeling I had at the séance. I didn’t feel pushed.”
Con reached across the table and took her hand experimentally. Lilah tried to open herself to any sensation, but in fact all she felt was the same flutter of sensual excitement she did whenever Con touched her. She shook her head. “There’s nothing different. Just...”
His eyes darkened. “I know.” He cleared his throat and released her hand. “Perhaps I don’t feel anything unless you are actively using your ability. Let’s say this power comes from some source here, the house or whatever. And that energy flows into you and out into the other person. Maybe you felt it so strongly that night because your aunt has a great deal of power. Whereas my directional talent is a pretty mild thing.”
“It could be the opposite—if the person’s ability is stronger, he doesn’t need to pull as much from me, so it’s not as noticeable.”
“I wonder... That day when the women were kidnapped and Anna had such a vision, didn’t you take her hand? Do you suppose that was what made her vision so strong, so coherent?” He stuck his hands into his pockets and rose to pace about. “This is fascinating. When we get back to London, we need to research this.”
When we get back to London. As if they would be together. As if it were a given. But no, she wouldn’t think that way. No plans, no building castles in the air, no thinking about consequences. Only now, only here.
Con stopped, waving his words aside. “But that’s for the future. Why were you pulled to the maze?”
“But I don’t know if I was pulled there because I wanted it, needed it, the way one is drawn to the fire when it’s cold. Or was I being dragged there against my will? I’m not sure.” She shook her head. “I cannot believe I am seriously considering such things.”
“You’ll get used to it.” Con grinned. “The question is, what is calling to you? This sanctuary of the Brotherhood?”
“The real question is, how are we going to stop it?” Lilah responded. “If the Sanctuary exists and the men tapped into it, then perhaps what Mr. Dearborn told us is also true.”
“That the...the contract, I suppose you’d call it, with the Sanctuary has to be renewed every three years?”
“Yes. And that if it is not renewed by Midsummer Day, something horrid is going to happen—that this force is going to be set free.”
“‘Unleash holy hell,’” Con quoted.
“I have felt that power, Con, and it is unbelievably strong. I terrifies me to think of what it might do.” Her insides were suddenly like ice. “And it’s only a little over a week until Midsummer Day.”
They looked at each other in stark silence for a moment. Con said, “Then I guess we’d better get to work.”
* * *
THEY DECIDED TO continue with their plan to search the cellars. Given Lilah’s experiences with the Sanctuary’s power, Con was sure the first course of action was to pinpoint its location. When they asked Ruggins for a pair of lanterns so they could explore the cellars, he looked aghast a
nd began to issue dire warnings about getting lost in the vast underground area, but they ignored his protests and ventured down into the cellars.
Close to the steps, the area was clean, the stone-walled rooms filled with wine, foodstuffs and supplies. As they went on, the walkway grew narrower and split off into different paths. They wound their way through them, peering into rooms, some containing rubble and others merely dust and spiderwebs. Now and then there was a squeak or the scrabbling of paws that brought Lilah closer to his side.
Con smiled. He enjoyed the darkness and the hint of danger, the lure of the unknown. It was made even better by Lilah’s nearness, her body soft and warm, almost touching his, the scent of lilacs clinging to her hair.
“Ruggins was right,” Lilah said. “I never realized how huge the cellars were.” She cast him a sideways glance, a teasing sparkle in her eyes that made him want to kiss her. “Let’s hope your human compass is working today.”
“Never fear. I have you with me.” Because it gave him the excuse to do so, he took her hand.
It hadn’t been his imagination. A ripple of awareness ran through him, and everything was suddenly, subtly, clearer. Sharper. Con hadn’t feared getting lost; the way back was obvious to him. But now he sensed something else, something more—a tickle at the back of his mind that made him turn around and return to the dark room they’d just passed.
“What is it?”
“I’m not sure. This place...” He raised the lantern and walked farther in. Dust coated the floor like a carpet, and great spiderwebs hung in the corners, dust gathering on their silken threads. There was a pile of stones at the other end, as if part of a wall had come down.
“Ah.” Con skirted the rubble and there, almost hidden in the dimness, was a recess in the wall. A closer look showed a gaping hole.
“What is it?” Lilah asked. “The wall caved in?”
“I think perhaps it was torn down. See how rectangular the hole is? I think it’s a door that had been blocked, and the stones were moved away.” He held the lantern inside the hole, lighting another stone wall beyond it.
