‘But...you sought me out?’
‘And you could not refuse to dance with me.’
‘Yes, I could.’
He smiled with mild amusement. ‘And regretted doing so. You should have gauged by now that I am capable of removing obstacles in my way.’
‘You shouldn’t have singled me out. As if things aren’t difficult enough for me. Already I am the subject of gossip. My life will be impossible now.’ He gazed down into her eyes with that same thoughtful expression she’d noticed before. He seemed to peer down into her very soul.
‘I’m sorry our affair has had adverse effects on your standing, Lisette, but what is life without a little danger?’ he countered, flashing her a dangerous smile. ‘We have both had our share.’
‘Yes, indeed. And you expected me to dance with you as a reward for rescuing me from a raging river?’
‘My dear, Lisette. If I had done it for the reward,’ he murmured, his warm breath caressing her face and his hand tightening about her waist, ‘I promise you, I would be asking for more than a dance.’
The sheer wickedness of the slow lazy smile he gave her made her catch her breath against the tightness of her buttoned bodice. All of a sudden she longed to be rid of it, rid of all her clothing, when he looked at her that way. Her strong determination to distance herself from him, which she thought had worked when they had last spoken days ago, was completely overwhelmed by his palpable expertise, and she thought again of what it was like to have him make love to her, to caress and kiss her body into insensibility—and she was tempted.
Looking down at her, all soft, entreating woman in his arms, drugging his senses with the sudden familiar scent and feel of her, he remembered the one time he had made love to her—how could he forget, for it had been the most wildly erotic, satisfying sexual encounter of his life? He had marvelled at the heady, primitive sensuality of her, real and uncontrived.
‘Come to me later, Lisette.’ His voice was low and husky, his eyes compelling with his need.
Until this moment Lisette had felt strong in her determination to abide by her decision to steer well clear of him, but she was so happy to see him, so achingly thrilled to have him this close, and so much in love with him, that nothing else seemed to matter. Yet the words he used sent a chill coursing along her spine. She struggled to free herself from the trance-like state induced by the intoxicating closeness of this strangely irresistible man and the touch of his hand holding hers, filling her with conflicting emotions.
‘But I said...’
‘I know what you said and why you said it, and now I want you to forget it,’ he murmured in the lazy, sensual drawl that always made her heart melt.
‘But I don’t want—’
‘Yes, you do,’ he said, wanting to give her a shake to make his full meaning sink in. She met his gaze and he smiled, content in his belief that he had measured the weakness of her character in the strength of her passion. ‘There is no gulf between us that cannot be bridged. What we feel for each other cannot be denied. You will be mine tonight. We both know it, so do not fight me, Lisette,’ he said softly, his voice a caress. ‘I know you too well. I know how you feel.’
‘Please leave me alone,’ she whispered, her cheeks hot, her pulse racing as she tried to control her emotions.
‘I’ll never leave you alone.’
He spoke softly, holding her with his gaze, knowing that she, too, was a victim of the overwhelming forces at work between them. She stared back at him, and he was sure he heard a soft moan escape her.
Lisette wished she were alone with him, away from all these people with their knowing eyes and judgemental looks. She wanted to fling herself into his arms and kiss his mouth, his face, his neck, as if nothing in the world existed for her but him. Shocked by the unladylike drift of her imaginings, she warded off the wayward thoughts before she could complete them. She studied his lips for a second, then shook off the shiver of awareness that ran through her body. And then the dance ended. Releasing her, taking her hand, he lifted it to his mouth and pressed the palm against his lips.
‘Later, Lisette. I will see you later.’
Then he turned and with Giles left the hall, satisfied that Lisette would do as he asked.
In the beginning he had deeply resented her decision to avoid him. He had seethed with frustration each time she disappeared as he approached, simmered with inept rage whenever she left a room rather than remain in his company for a moment. But tonight she would come to him in his rooms—and if not he would go to hers.
* * *
Leaving an excited yet apprehensive Araminta to await her bridegroom, Lisette went to her room without any conscious effort or awareness of doing so. How long she sat beside her bed she didn’t know, but when at last she got to her feet, she felt strangely calm. She would go to Ross. In two days she would leave Castonbury. She would leave Ross. Would it be so wrong of her to want just this one night?
Stepping quietly from her room she negotiated her way to the west block. Arriving at the room she sought, she stood looking at the door when suddenly she froze. She couldn’t go in. Would the joy of being together for just a short while be worth the agony of parting? Had she not been lucky to avoid the consequences of their last tryst—surely this would be tempting fate to try it again? Would it not be better if they stayed apart, not to see him at all? Blindly she turned on her heel and retraced her steps.
Ross heard a sound outside his door. As a soldier trained for war, he’d developed the faculty of detecting the slightest out of the ordinary sound and coming instantly alert. Immediately he crossed to the door and looked out, just in time to see the figure of a woman disappear round a corner. His instinct told him it was Lisette. Without hesitation he hurried after her.
Knowing she was being followed, Lisette found herself in the massive Marble Hall she had first seen on her arrival to Castonbury Park—a room meant to overawe and to establish a sense of Roman grandeur, rising to the full height of the house and recalling the open atrium at the centre of a Roman villa. But now, in the dim silvery light, eerie shadows draped the walls. She paused, looking around.
About her the great house lay slumberous, the cloak of night temporarily disturbed before settling back like a muffling shroud. And then she heard the soft footsteps of someone who walked quietly towards the hall. Silently she slipped behind one of the twenty alabaster fluted Corinthian columns that dominated the room, holding her breath and standing as still as the cold, blank-eyed statues that occupied the niches about the hall. The footsteps came to a stop just a few feet from where she hid. She shrank back, flattening herself against the cold column, thinking he might hear her heart beat. But then he moved away, the sound of his footsteps tapping on the inlaid Italian marble floor, leaving her in silent darkness.
Or so she thought, for she was unprepared when she slipped from her hiding place to find herself face to face with Ross. A silent moment passed as his eyes settled on hers. They seemed to draw her towards him.
‘Come to me, Lisette.’
Closing the distance, placing her hand into his palm, suddenly became the easiest, most natural thing she had ever been asked to do. He looked down at her and stared into her eyes before allowing his gaze to travel, slowly and lovingly, over every inch of her face. Without relinquishing his hold on her hand he led her back to his room. Lisette crossed the threshold and he shut the door. She walked into his arms, wrapping her own around his waist and placing her cheek on his broad chest.
The curtains were drawn against the night, and the room, so spacious and elegant, was warm and secure against the things that lurked outside. There was a silver moon but it did not intrude into the golden glowing room. A mother-of-pearl-and-gold clock ticked on the mantelshelf. Everywhere was rich comfort, even the hound lying in front of the fire was accustomed to sleeping on a thick pile of Turkish rugs.
The logs crackled in the fireplace, carried up by one of the footmen from the stack behind the stables. One spat
as the sap within it dripped into the flames, eliciting nothing more than a lift of the dog’s ears.
Ross tilted her face up to his. His eyes were a dark sapphire blue in a tanned face and his eyebrows were raised in quizzical enquiry. ‘Why did you run away?’
‘I suddenly got cold feet,’ she answered, looking up at him.
Ross couldn’t blame her. If he was honest, from the very first he’d set himself up with his attempts at masterful manipulation. ‘I want you, Lisette, you know I do, and I know you want me.’
As he studied her, words rang in her head. The prize wasn’t the same as what he habitually lusted after. This time he wanted a great deal more and he knew why. It was because Lisette was different, because in her heart she carried the same things he did. They were like two halves of a broken coin waiting to be mended.
He’d known the first time he’d laid eyes on her, the instant he’d held her in his arms and kissed her. They fitted together, and he’d known instinctively, immediately, on a level deeper than his bones. He wanted all of her, not just the physical her, but her love and devotion and her heart. He wanted it all. He would settle for nothing less than that.
‘Why did you make me come to you?’ he breathed.
Leaning back, Lisette tipped her head to one side. ‘It has not escaped my notice that you have been otherwise occupied.’
‘My darling,’ he chuckled tenderly, ‘you are the only female alive who would bring up Caroline Bennington at a time like this.’ Sighing quietly he cupped her face in his hands as if it were a precious thing, kissing her mouth in such a way that the sweetness, the tender honesty of it, swelled her heart. ‘Caroline means nothing to me. Believe it, Lisette, for it is true.’
Lisette closed her eyes and no longer wondered what had drawn her to this man. Initially she thought it might be his compelling good looks and his powerful animal magnetism. She had convinced herself that it was so, that the strange hold he had over her was merely his ability to awaken those intense sexual hungers within her. Now she realised this was just the tip of an iceberg, that the truth lay in its hidden, unfathomable depths. What she felt for Ross Montague went far beyond either physical or romantic love.
‘Ross.’ Her mouth murmured the word against his.
Without taking his mouth from hers he lifted her in his arms and carried her across the room. Placing her on the bed he knelt beside her and with slow, deliberate hands he undressed her, loving every inch of her naked body before gathering her up and nestling her against him with what seemed to be perfect content.
She knew it was wrong, and yet she felt it couldn’t be. Did she care? Did it matter that she was a servant when his mouth and his hands and his powerful body were demanding of her what she knew only she could give him? No, she thought. She loved this man. She wanted him and it was enough.
Ross shrugged out of his clothes and lay beside her, in no hurry. His manner implied this would be as good as it had been before, the firm flat muscles of his body pressing against hers, the exploration of his hands on her skin, the sweeping caresses that set her purring and glowing, but when he entered her she felt the heated frenzy come upon her which demanded that she be possessed by him. She cried out and so did he, while all about them the great house and the servants slept and the lovers were unheard.
And then she slept, her head resting on his chest, his arms about her, his lips against her hair. But Ross did not sleep, for his thoughts were occupied with how he was to keep this beloved woman in his life. Before he closed his eyes he knew there was only one way and having reached his decision he was content.
Before dawn Lisette sat up and her loveliness struck him. Her raven-black hair tumbled about her round, peaked breasts and her graceful shoulders and back. Without a word she slipped out of bed and fumbled into her clothes, smoothing back her flowing hair and securing it in a knot in her nape. Then she leant over and kissed him.
‘I must go before anyone is about.’
‘Yes, you should. We will talk later,’ he murmured, his body sated, his spirit quietly joyous, caressing her cheek.
Lisette left him then, his kisses still warm on her lips. With the house slowly stirring to life, she moved swiftly back to her own room with a heavy heart, for it was as though he had taken the spring of life within her. The thought that she would not be with him again tormented her, and she could not bear a day, a month, let alone an eternity beyond that, without him. The weight of it, her love, was almost more than she could bear. Her heart ached with the desolation of it and with the loss that must come next.
* * *
When Smithins appeared in the breakfast room and issued a summons to Giles and Ross for them to attend His Grace in his rooms, they were surprised. He had become such a solitary person of late he seldom disturbed the males and females of the household or saw them except when it suited him—avoiding everyone except Smithins and the Reverend Seagrove when he came to call.
Ten minutes later they stood before him seated in his chair. It soon became clear that he wished to speak to them on a matter of grave importance, for not even the dedicated Smithins was allowed to remain.
His Grace fixed his rheumy eyes on his son and nephew. The death of two of his sons had left him feeling tired, old, ineffectual and useless, but Jamie’s son had given him something to think about, something to fight for, injecting new life into him. He sat straight in his chair, and when he spoke his voice was more controlled than it had been in a long time.
‘There is something that you should know right away—something I have decided concerning Jamie’s wife and the child.’ He said it quietly, but the room was hushed and waiting for something which would not be pleasant when it came. ‘Young Crispin is my heir so he is my responsibility. I am trustee to the estate and therefore his guardian, so it is for me to make some sort of provision.’
‘There is still an element of doubt that Alicia is telling the truth,’ Giles said, sitting opposite his father and indicating for Ross to do the same. ‘We have no proof that Jamie married her. Until we hear from Harry I suggest we do not commit ourselves to anything.’
‘And what happens to the child in the meantime? He cannot be ignored—and nor would I wish to.’ His voice was high, every word stressing his indignation. He cast Giles a stern look. ‘Since Jamie was taken from us, on my request you have assumed the position of heir apparent well, Giles.’
‘Of course, but you know it is a position I have never coveted.’
‘I know that and Jamie’s son will relieve you of the responsibility. The inheritance issue can no longer be ignored. We cannot disclaim that young Crispin is Jamie’s child and we must recognise him legally, not only to give him his name but to have papers drawn up with the utmost speed. We have the same blood running in our veins. No class or legality can wipe out that fact. I am thinking of taking certain steps with regard to the child and having him brought to Castonbury.’
‘And the mother?’ Ross asked, conscious of a sudden feeling of unease creeping over him. His uncle Crispin believed in his right to ride through the heritage of the Montague family, and when he had his mind made up about something, he would not allow any obstacle to stand in his way.
‘Some provision will be made for her.’ The duke stared at his nephew for a moment, then he said, ‘You have met the woman, Ross. Tell me, how did you find her?’
‘Likeable and civil—given the circumstances.’
The duke’s face twitched. ‘The circumstances?’
‘She is a poor widow with a child to raise alone. It cannot be easy for her.’
‘Did you see the child?’
‘No, I did not. But I believe she is a good mother and she spoke fondly of her son.’
The duke made a sound in his throat and after a moment he muttered thickly, ‘I wish to see him. The child is my grandson, my heir, and I want him to be brought up as such. If what you say is correct and the mother has no means of supporting him, then I’m sure she could be persuaded to let him g
o.’
Unable to believe he was serious, Ross studied him in cool silence, noticing for the first time that there was an infuriating arrogance about his uncle, his thin smile, and even the way he was sitting in the chair. ‘Let him go? What are you saying?’
‘It is my will that the child should be removed from her.’
Giles was staggered by his father’s words and deeply shocked by what he intended. ‘We cannot do that. She will not part with him.’
‘Why not? She will be amply compensated. Arrangements will be made for her and an offer to place her in some comfort elsewhere.’ His voice was impatient. ‘The child is being brought up in poverty and I will not allow it to go on. I could take her son away from her by the simple matter of going to the law.’
‘Are you saying that you would remove the child by force?’
‘If necessary. Possession is nine-tenths of the law, don’t forget. If the child was out of her reach for a time, then she might be brought to her senses through argument and discussion. Of course, she could take the matter to court under the heading of abduction—’
‘Or kidnapping,’ Ross interrupted, absolutely astonished at what his uncle was planning to do.
‘She couldn’t afford to do that. The law has ways and means, and if I decide to make it a legal matter she wouldn’t have a leg to stand on.’
‘I know what you are saying, Father, but it is not right. It is not right to separate a child from its mother.’
He came back at Giles sharply. ‘Right? Of course it’s right. The child will have everything he could wish for and nursemaids to look after him.’
‘Nursemaids are no substitute for a mother,’ Ross pointed out.
‘I second that,’ Giles said. As children he and his siblings had been kept in deferential awe of their parents. Indeed, they’d seen little of them. As babies they had been given over to the care of wet nurses and later cared for by nursemaids and nannies, with just the occasional duty visit from their parents. If what Ross said was true, then young Crispin’s closeness to his mother was surely better than that.
The Housemaid's Scandalous Secret Page 21
