Heath cradled her close, not knowing the meaning of her tears, understanding only that he had not yet taught her the full pleasure of this joining. That would come with time, when he had more control and she learned to relax and accept his lovemaking. As it was, his body was ready for yet another taste of her heady liquor.
Heath lowered her to the bed, but Aubree resisted his attempt to roll away. She clung to him, her kisses sweet with tears. He grew strong within her again, his body craving the delights she promised.
This time, Aubree was ready for him. His slow movements fanned the flames of desire, until all sight and sound dissolved, and all that remained was the roar of passion. They reached a crescendo together, and Heath’s final thrusts brought them to a crashing finale. Aubree shuddered as he buried his seed deep inside her, and a prayer formed in her heart.
They lay in silence for a while, letting the morning air cool the heated embers of their passion while the pounding of their hearts meshed and slowed to beat together. Heath stroked the full curves of her breasts, tested the narrowness of the valley at her waist, and lingered on the swell of rounded hips. Aubree settled for exploring the rough mat of hair traveling down a bronzed hard chest, sighing with the pleasure of finally being allowed this liberty.
At last, Heath admitted, “I should not take advantage of you like this, halfling. Once we start down this road, there is no turning back.”
Aubree slid her bare leg teasingly along his. “I don’t believe in looking back. I’m ready to follow this road wherever it goes.”
“When is your birthday?” he asked abruptly, disentangling her teasing leg and setting her from him.
Aubree smiled. “Last week.”
Austin stared at her with suspicion, read the truth in her face, lay back, and closed his eyes with a groan. “I knew I should have pried that date from you. We have to get you up to London somehow. Damn, what a time to be laid up in bed!”
“There is no hurry. I’m certain the lawyers enjoy counting the money and will willingly wait. If they grow too worried, they can send someone here. I’m not going anywhere until you are well again.” Aubree stated this with a decisiveness that hid her sinking hopes. He still thought to send her away. What did she have to do to make him understand?
Before her despair could show, she rose from the bed. A dressing screen had been located in the attics, and she had had it set up in the corner around the commode for privacy. She was grateful for its protection now.
“Many more mornings like this, and the cure may kill me,” Heath yelled after her. Her laughter from behind the screen did nothing to relieve his torment. In one way, he was relieved that she did not insist on beginning the process of annulment now, for he had no intention of relinquishing her. But he also realized he had made it much more difficult to send her away, as he surely must do until he could keep her in safety and comfort.
He lay debating his alternatives long after Aubree had brought his breakfast and disappeared in the direction of the nursery. Her looks had attracted him, but her high spirits held him in thrall. Just listening to her infectious laughter relieved his pain and chased away the clouds of despair. But to keep her here in the gloom of poverty, cut off from society, would certainly destroy those high spirits. And the danger of leaving her within reach of the creator of these “accidents” was too great to risk. He must send her away until he found some means of resolving these problems.
But he could solve nothing while lying abed with a crippled leg.
He threw off the covers and gingerly slid his leg over the side of the bed. He would lose more than his leg by staying in this bed. He would rather take his chances on losing the leg than losing Aubree.
He waited until he heard his sister leave the room next door. Then using his cane and keeping the motion of his injured leg to a minimum, he limped to the connecting door and threw it open.
Adrian looked up from his breakfast tray with a satisfied grin. “Damned well time, old fellow.”
Heath’s black frown only served to fuel his friend’s amusement. Adrian watched in anticipation as he lowered himself awkwardly into the first available chair.
“Will you quit grinning like a damned looby? At least, I’ve dragged myself from my sickbed. That’s a damned sight better than you’ve managed,” Heath grumbled.
“Your language grows must foul with age,” Adrian admonished cheerfully. “Besides, I am in no hurry to relinquish the tender loving care of your ladies, old boy. After these last months, I wallow willingly in luxury.”
“Luxury!” Heath scoffed. “Sloth, mayhap. How’s your back healing? From the description Aubree gives me, you must have raised a few tempers in H.M.’s Royal Navy.”
A scowl replaced Adrian’s grin. “Don’t start me on the subject, Heath. You know when I go back, I intend to raise all the gates of hell until an end is put to that infernal British practice of stealing men to feed the insatiable maw of your bloody navy! His Majesty’s glittering jewel is more than a trifle tarnished.”
Heath studied him gravely. “I’m aware of that, and so are others. Not enough, perhaps. A navy that can produce a Nelson cannot be insulted easily. I would have you go to London and describe the conditions rather than back to your hotheaded countrymen. War now would aid neither of us.”
“Who would listen?” Adrian demanded scornfully. “I can trace my family back to William the Conqueror, but without a title, I cannot bend the ear of the lowliest lord. No, thank you, my mighty earl. I’ll hasten back to people who listen to common sense.”
Heath shook his head but did not argue. “If I could take my place in the Lords, I would have your story told. I can only relay the information to my father-in-law. He has more than a passing interest in our relations with America. I would ask that you speak to him if I can command his attention.”
Adrian looked dubious but cautious. “Emily tells me your wife’s father is a duke. Aubree is a strong-headed little brat, but I find it difficult to believe even she could fight a father as powerful as a duke. So you must have managed to gain his good graces somehow. I assume he must be the one who negotiated my release. Are you certain he has any further interest in me?”
Heath tapped his walking stick against the floor as he pondered how best to answer all his friend’s unspoken questions. “I cannot say that the duke and I are on the best of terms. Perhaps I should say that we understand each other. When it comes to politics, we are better suited; I shall write him at once, but first, there is another proposition I would offer you.”
Adrian smiled his agreement. “We work well in business matters, and I’m bored with the monotony of confinement. I’ll enjoy negotiating a deal with you.”
As Heath set about explaining what he had in mind, Adrian’s smile became a frown of concentration.
Chapter 26
Aubree recognized the writing from the address and flung the note in the fire without opening it. Geoffrey’s impassioned pleas had ceased to amuse her long ago. Once, she had thought them romantic, but now she recognized their foolishness. She could not imagine why he persisted in pursuing her after she had made it clear she had no desire for dalliance. Surely he would give up soon and return to London.
A letter from an unknown firm of solicitors joined the ones from her father’s lawyers. No doubt they spoke of her inheritance, but she could not interest herself in legal terms. The matter would wait until Heath could handle it for her.
Her hand hesitated over a letter addressed to Heath in a crude, hurried hand. Uncertain of the origin, she thought it best to take it to him, but a feeling of foreboding made her cautious. She had never known letters from strangers to bring good news.
At the maid’s arrival in the study entrance, Aubree lay the missive back on the desk.
“The sheriff be back, milady,” Joan whispered, bobbing a curtsy while trying to look over her shoulder at the impatient harbinger of bad tidings in the hallway.
Muttering a mild curse, Aubree hurried out to forestal
l the inevitable. Heath grew irritable enough as it was. The sheriff’s news could only make him impossible.
As she hurried out, the purring kitten that had perused the mail with her leapt to follow. With a swish of his black-tipped tail, he sent the stack of letters floating from the desk. They settled about the uncarpeted floor, slid along the waxed planks to take up residence in shadowed corners, or disappeared beneath cobwebbed furniture. The draft from the open door scattered them again, securing them in unreachable corners.
Carrying a pitcher of warm water, John hesitated outside his lordship’s chambers at the spirited conversation inside. With a frown of consternation, he shook his head and eased open the chamber door.
Wielding two walking sticks and hobbling back and forth across the bedroom floor, the earl welcomed him with an irascible scowl. “It’s about time. If that damned wife of mine sees me up, she’s apt to cripple me again. Set the pitcher down by the bed. That way she won’t know what I’ve been about.”
John remained appropriately silent at his employer’s tirade. He had never thought to see the day when the devil-may-care earl came under the thumb of a piece of fluff, but he had to admit he enjoyed the sight. Without Aubree, the madman would have been downstairs and racing his stallion by now, and crippling himself for life. No, Lady Aubree had spun magic and twisted the earl in her net just in time.
However, there were limits, and John shifted from one foot to the other, trying to find some a means to broach the subject. After setting the basin and pitcher down where indicated, he hesitated instead of leaving.
Heathmont shot him a black scowl. “Out with it, man. I’m not likely to start caning you for impertinence at this late date.”
“It’s the sheriff, milord,” John stammered. “He’s below stairs, asking to see you. Her ladyship is that much set against it, I fear he will take offense.”
The earl snorted. “He won’t be the first. She’ll teach him to mind his manners right enough. But I assume you’re telling me I need to hear what the fellow has to say.” At the John’s nod, he shrugged. “Go fetch him. Aubree’s been spoiling for a fight for some time.”
John hastened to do as told. Her ladyship wasn’t the one spoiling for a fight. The earl had all the gentleness of a caged tiger these days.
When John conveyed his message to the sheriff, Aubree followed right on their heels as the men traversed the marble staircase to the upper hall.
She hid her vexation as she discovered Heath ensconced on a settee in the musty, unused sitting room. She had been allowing him to exercise the injured leg but had feared letting him place any weight on it until the wound had closed more thoroughly. That he had taken it upon himself to walk the length of two chambers raised her ire to a level beyond the sheriff’s persistence.
“What is it you wish to see me about, Fletcher?” Garbed in an old maroon dressing gown and a pair of loose-fitting trousers, his dark hair curling about his collar and falling forward in disheveled curls upon his forehead, Heath scarcely dressed the part of earl, but the sheriff bowed with wary respect.
“The maid, Blanche, milord. When was the last time you was to speak to her?” the sheriff inquired.
“Blanche?” Heath asked in disbelief. Then following the sheriff’s baleful glance, he turned on Aubree. “Is there something you should have told me, my dear?” His tone was ominous.
“It is of no consequence,” she replied, staring down the sheriff. “I have already sent our regrets to Mrs. Shaughnessy and made arrangements for the girl’s funeral. I have allowed Mr. Fletcher the freedom of making inquiries among the servants. To insist on questioning you is an insult that I will not countenance.”
She rested her frosty gaze on the valet, then let it sweep on by to freeze the sheriff in his place. Both men flinched.
“I see,” her husband murmured, raising an eyebrow at her that warned of retribution. “I collect that Blanche has met with some untimely end and you wish to inquire into my whereabouts at the time, Fletcher?”
The sheriff flinched again at Heath’s cold look, but he held his ground. “It’s my duty, milord.”
“Of course, Fletcher. I cannot recall having spoken to the girl since last summer. Just when did she die, if you will allow me to ask?”
His sarcasm went unnoticed by its intended victim. “The night before you met with your accident, milord. The same night as your flock went over the cliff, the same place more or less.”
Aubree saw the tensing of the muscle along Heath’s jaw, and her stomach churned. She had known that only trouble could come of this confrontation.
“You are saying Blanche died in the same manner as my first wife, Sheriff?” The chill in Heath’s voice finally penetrated the man’s density,
“More or less, milord,” he repeated himself. “If you could just give me the name of some people as was with you that night. . .” He threw a hopeful look to Aubree.
Heath shook his head emphatically before Aubree could utter a word. “I was out riding my fields, Fletcher, trying to prevent further attacks on my property. As you can tell, I was not successful. I haven’t enough men to work them both night and day. No one was with me.”
Aubree’s exhalation of disappointment went unnoticed. She had hoped he would say he was with the men. She might even have accepted it if he’d said he was with another woman. That he did not lie and claim he was with her proved his honesty in her eyes, but she feared it condemned him in all others.
“I’m sorry, milord. The magistrate’s been hard after me. He’ll be wanting to know everything you say. Did you not see anyone that night?”
The muscle over Heath’s jaw tightened with rage, and with the help of his walking stick he stood to his full height to meet met the sheriff’s gaze on equal terms. “You may tell Sir George to issue any warrants he desires, but he’d damned well better stay out of my business until he does. Do you understand me?” Before the sheriff could answer, he gestured to his groom. “John, show this man out.”
“Well done, old fellow. Antagonize the law, they’ll love you for it.”
Aubree wiped at a tear as Adrian strode into the room with only a slight hitch to his stride.
“That damned Featherbottom should have been impeached long ago! The man is an ass. Sending that damned poor fool here to harass me. That’s all I need, all those old stories dredged up. . .” Heath turned accusingly on Aubree. “Why didn’t you warn me?”
Before he could attack further, Adrian interfered. “Yelling at Aubree won’t help. You know as well as I do the best way to put an end to those tales.”
Heath’s bronzed features darkened another shade. “I will not give the old fool the satisfaction. It will serve no purpose.”
Aubree leapt to her feet and grabbed his hands, pleading with him. “Tell someone, Heath. If not the magistrate, tell Mr. Sotheby. He was your friend. It will come easier if he hears it from you. Then Harley can go to the magistrate and tell him that you cannot possibly be guilty of your wife’s death and that Blanche’s death is surely an accident.”
Heath shook his head in refusal. “Let Louise lie in peace. Resurrecting that tale will solve nothing. I can no more prove I killed no one than they can prove I did. I have warned you before, Aubree, do not interfere in what does not concern you.”
The tone of his voice was worse than a slap in the face, and tears rimmed her eyes as she turned away without a word.
When she walked out, Adrian gazed at his friend scornfully. “Well done, brother. Do you wish the rest of us to leave you, too?”
Heath’s shoulders slumped wearily. “I cannot keep her, Adrian. She is as free to go as you. More so, because you are in my debt, but I am in hers. Do not ask, I cannot explain.”
He waved away Adrian’s questions and dragged back to his chambers. He had known it was only a matter of time before his past caught up with the present. He had hoped to provide a better buffer against the shock, but he could see such hopes were groundless. He had meant for Aubree to
return to London for a Season, at least, in any case. He could foresee it being much longer than that. He refused to think “forever.”
Aubree avoided her husband for the remainder of the day, until the dowager caught her troubled expression and demanded explanations. When she reluctantly told the story, Lady Heathmont shook her head in exasperation.
“It has been seven years since Louise died in that dreadful pit. Austin was barely more than a boy then. I cannot feature anyone but that curmudgeon Sotheby actually believing him capable of such an atrocity. And to blame the death of that wretched maid on him is the work of fools. But then, Sir George was always a nodcock and that witless Fletcher only a step better. Ever since Austin threatened to have him impeached over some bit of nonsense about land rights with Squire Eversly, Sir George has been eager to find fault with him. It’s trumped up hubble-bubble, is all it is. Don’t you worry yourself over it. Austin is angry now because he’s feeling helpless. Let him get back on his feet again and all will be well.”
Aubree did not have the same confidence as Lady Heathmont, but she could not avoid Heath forever. If he meant to send her away, she had given him a good excuse, not that he needed one. Still, she didn’t think he could forcibly throw her in the carriage and drive her away.
Only slightly relieved by this thought, Aubree wandered outside instead of upstairs. She had given the guinea pigs to young Michael, and she would see how they fared. And perhaps she would visit with Myna and Dancing Star for a while. It had been a long time since she had given any attention to her less-than-human friends.
Michael was delighted with the visit and attempted to apologize for the sheriff’s actions. Aubree waved away his stammering explanations and steered the subject to her pets. Before long, the youth was happily chattering and showing her the lambs they had saved from the carnage.
Indigo Moon Page 25
