Shuddering, he paused and lifted his head to feel a great plop of moisture land right in his face. He sputtered, releasing Jane to swipe it away only to see another brown drop soak into his white linen shirt, leaving a dark, spreading stain.
“Oh, no! The roof leaks!” Jane exclaimed. “I’ll have Peg get a bucket.”
Before he could stop her, Jane was hurrying toward the door. Raleigh wondered if there really was a ghoul or ghost of some kind who inhabited Craven Hall, for every time he tried to kiss his wife, some mishap occurred to interrupt them. And usually the interruption involved some indignity to his person, Raleigh thought sourly. Not that he was vain, mind you…
The windows rattled loudly, lashed by the rain with exceptional force, and Raleigh cocked an eyebrow as he looked up toward the ceiling. Up among the peeling paint and darkened plaster, he could almost picture Great-uncle Cornelius having a good laugh at his expense.
Chapter Thirteen
Eager to get away, Jane hastened to the kitchen so quickly, she was practically running by the time she arrived. She needed time to think, and she couldn’t think when Raleigh was that close, his eyes lazy and warm, his voice low and coaxing in her ears. Laying her hands on top of the worn worktable, Jane sought to catch her breath, though she knew it wasn’t her hurried steps that left her gasping.
It was Raleigh. And no matter how much she tried to reason with herself, Jane could not still the trembly feeling inside her, a euphoria that could not be blamed upon nervous excitement. She had never been one to indulge in spirits, but now she felt positively giddy, as if she were drunk, not upon wine, but on the heady attentions of her husband.
Of course, Jane had not believed a word of it. The very idea of Raleigh finding her “precious” was laughable, and yet the word rattled around in her chest until it lodged somewhere next to her heart. She tried to remember all the reasons she thought so little of her husband, but they seemed to fade before the bright memory of his embrace.
Jane straightened, alarmed at the tenor of her thoughts, and, worse yet, her actions. She had shown an alarming lack of restraint this afternoon, in both word and deed, and she felt the hot flush of embarrassment stain her cheeks. Certainly Raleigh was partially to blame, for he goaded her to speak unwisely. However, Jane knew she simply must regain control of her tongue, her temper and her modesty.
Raleigh was a scapegrace who could not be trusted, a professional charmer whose hollow compliments and jests could not be taken seriously. He was not fascinated by her, nor was she the slightest bit interested in such tomfoolery, Jane told herself. And yet, she couldn’t suppress the lightness of her step as she moved about the kitchen, looking for something to catch the drips upstairs.
After a brief search, she found both a bucket and an old tub, and sticking one inside the other, she headed back toward the state apartments, hoping that only the portion of the roof over the original building was affected. Her steps faltered as she neared her destination, but she lifted her chin and marched forward determinedly. If Raleigh intended to begin where he had left off, he would be sadly disappointed!
But Raleigh was not there. Jane dropped the tub on the floor with a bang and glanced around, ignoring the painful thudding of her heart at his absence. When she looked blankly at the spot where she had left him, her eye was caught by a small mark on the floor, and she stiffened, suddenly certain of her husband’s whereabouts.
No doubt the famous dandy had gone to change his soiled shirt, for he could hardly walk around with a flaw on his perfect person, could he? Jane waited for the small gloat of triumph that usually accompanied her jeers, but, oddly enough, she no longer felt pleased with her own superiority.
Unsettled, she turned her jittery thoughts back to the task facing her and moved the tub into the proper position to catch the occasional moisture. Bucket in hand, she surveyed the surrounding area for other leaks and frowned when she saw a dark spreading stain where she had been working earlier. She stepped closer only to abruptly back away when it became apparent that this was no ordinary puddle of water. Nearly black, the pool of liquid was thick and had an acrid smell that made her queasy.
Suddenly the vast room with its hulking shapes, covered in graying cloths, its dark corners sunk in shadows that the few lamps could not penetrate, seemed menacing. The rain that Jane had hardly noticed all day blew against the old windows with such force that she squeaked in surprise. Although common sense told her that there was nothing to fear, the stain on the floor had not been there before.
Somewhere outside a tree cracked and fell, and Jane jumped at the noise. She was painfully aware that she was alone in the vast room, and, dropping the bucket, she finally gave in to her terror. She turned to flee only to run directly into something in her path. So overset was she that it took her a moment to realize that no haunt ensnared her, but something solid and warm and familiar.
“Raleigh!” He wore clean-smelling linen and a silk waistcoat that hugged his body, and Jane wrapped her arms around it, burying her face against his hard chest. Beneath his elegant clothing, she felt the strength of him surround her, the lightness of his being warding off all the darkness. He had never been more welcome, nor more human to her heightened senses.
“Jane, love, what is it?” he said, his voice so gentle that she wanted to weep. Forcing herself to loosen her hold upon him, Jane pointed one trembling hand toward the stain. “There’s…there’s something there. I think it’s…blood.”
“Not yours, I hope?” he asked wryly, and Jane shook her head. Although she wanted to remain right where she was, plastered to his tall form, she let him extricate himself. Then she watched, wide-eyed, while he approached the dark smear and knelt to inspect it.
“Hmm. It’s blood, certainly, but probably from an animal. Perhaps Mrs. Ghastly has taken up butchering?” Despite herself, Jane made a sound that hovered between nervous laughter and outrage at his flippancy.
As she looked on, Raleigh sat back on his heels, his wrists balanced easily on his knees, and grinned at her. “I know! It’s The Castle of Otranto again. Our mischief-makers are not well-read at all. It appears that they are limited to but two gothic novels.”
“What do you mean?” Jane asked, staring at him blankly.
“Or have I the wrong book? I distinctly recall a statue oozing blood.”
Jane opened her mouth to protest, but shut it again as the rather gruesome passage returned to mind. “You are right!” she said, with some surprise. “But didn’t it come from the statue’s nose?” she asked dubiously.
“Just so!” Raleigh exclaimed, with a delight that made Jane’s fears seem silly. “Hmm.” He glanced about the room quickly before his gaze came to rest upon one of the nearby figures that she had uncovered. It was the marble image of a man bending upon one knee, its nude back toward the spot on the floor, and Jane frowned as Raleigh grinning wickedly, his brows lifted in question.
“Don’t even say it,” she warned, anticipating his comment.
“But, Jane, love, perhaps the poor fellow’s been eating Mrs. Graves’s cooking! You can hardly blame him for being a bit…indisposed.”
Jane shook her head as her husband rose gracefully to his feet. “You are incorrigible,” she scolded, but the innocent expression on his handsome face was her undoing. Lifting a hand to her mouth, Jane tried to stop the giggle that rose to her lips, but she could restrain herself no longer. Plopping down onto The Foot’s big toe, she laughed aloud, and she did not stop until tears came to her eyes.
Raleigh stared at her with a combination of pleasure, disbelief and concern on his perfect features. “Lud, Jane, are you all right?” he asked finally.
Clutching her throat, Jane nodded breathlessly. She felt more than “all right.” She felt buoyant and free, as if her outburst had acted as a catharsis, ridding her not only of her recent fright, but of long-hidden fetters that had held her back. All at once her vaunted restraint seemed stifling and confining, and she longed to shed herself of it compl
etely, to act reckless and unrefined, to behave as though she were not Plain Jane, but some new creature that Raleigh had created with a languid wave of his elegant hand.
Raleigh. For some absurd reason, Jane wanted to throw her arms around his neck and kiss him. Instead, she smiled unsteadily as if seeing him for the first time. She had never approved of that teasing glint in his eyes, for she thought it held mockery, but now she found it oddly comforting—and appealing. Only Raleigh could make a horrific encounter with blood amusing and banish the shadows with a wink and a grin.
Studying him, standing there in his shirtsleeves, Jane blinked, dazzled by the very sight. He was so unbelievably beautiful that she wondered how she had never noticed it before. Or had she? Oddly disoriented, she looked away, her heart pounding wildly.
“I’ll ring for Mrs. Graves,” she heard him say. “Perhaps she knows how this mess got here during the brief time that you and I were not in the room. And, if not, she can at least get rid of the lot of it,” he added, with a frown of distaste. “Then we’ll see about cleaning up for supper. I vow, I feel positively filthy from rummaging about these old crates. A bath would be just the thing, I think.”
Jane nodded, but instead of imagining her own comfort, she pictured her husband lounging back in a big brass tub—totally naked. “Oh!” she whispered helplessly. While Raleigh moved toward the bellpull, she buried her face in her hands, but she could not dispel the vision or the tantalizing thoughts that accompanied it.
Raleigh, rogue that he was, had breached her defenses, and now how was she to stand fast against him?
Raleigh watched Jane fidget in her chair, both amused and alarmed to see his normally stiff wife so restless. Earlier, he had seen her poke at her food, and he wanted to reach over and feed her himself. With his own hands and mouth and tongue…Groaning, he glanced toward the windows, where the rain continued to lash against Craven Hall as if bent on some sort of heavenly retribution.
Shuddering, Raleigh refused to pursue such thoughts. He did not believe in ghosts or the vengeful spirit of that old bugger Cornelius, who just might not appreciate his relatives mucking about among his belongings. Drawing a breath, Raleigh reached for his claret, savoring the fine flavor.
“I’ll say this for Northumberland, the wine is among the best I’ve ever tasted. Wonder where they get it?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Jane said, and Raleigh smiled to see her familiar frown of disapproval. Ever since she found the blood, she had not been herself. Her eyes behind those dreadful spectacles had been too bright, too vivid. Even after the bath and rest he had forced on her, she seemed agitated, and he could only blame this infernal wreck of a house and whatever was going on in it.
Demned strange business! Although he had questioned Mrs. Graves at length, Raleigh had received little more than monosyllabic answers and grim pronouncements of dread and foreboding. The interview had left him weary and exasperated. When Antoine had returned empty-handed, looking like a drowned rat and cursing the foul weather, the two of them had prowled throughout the house to no avail. They could find no evidence of intruders, not even the outline of a soggy footprint in the stillcrowded upper rooms.
Raleigh didn’t like it. If it weren’t for the nearly impassable roads that Antoine had reported, he would have taken Jane away. So far, the pranks had all been harmless enough—noises and glowing skulls and animal blood— but what would be next? The possibility of a threat to his wife had aroused all his previously untapped protective instincts. Unfortunately, that wasn’t all that was aroused.
And therein lay his current conundrum, for how was he to guard Jane when he was having increasing difficulty keeping his hands off her? Considering her recent disquiet, the last thing his wife needed was to worry about unwanted advances. He was her only defender here, and as such, she needed to be able to trust him. The thought made Raleigh stifle a groan, for he knew he could not trust himself. He glanced upward, wondering if old Cornelius was having another good one on him.
“I think I shall retire.” The sound of Jane’s voice made him blink.
“I shall go with you,” he said. If she made no signs of her usual disapproval, Raleigh was too surprised to comment as they walked to the family wing. Leaving her alone to change, he went into his own room and undressed. After donning his banyan, he tapped at the adjoining door, which had been left ajar, and drew in a deep breath when Jane bade him enter.
She was finishing the last of her tight braid, and it was all Raleigh could do not to reach out and release it all, loosing her gleaming locks to his view, to his touch…He glanced away guiltily. Lud, this was going to be worse than he thought.
With a sigh, Raleigh glanced around the room for a comfortable chair, but old Cornelius seemed to prefer heavy mahogany pieces with no padding, and he did not relish the prospect of another night spent in one of them. He’d barely been able to walk this morning, and his neck felt permanently out of joint. Not at all the thing for cutting a dashing figure.
As if reading his thoughts, Jane spoke softly. “You need not stay here tonight,” she said. She faced the window, so he could not see her expression, but the lamplight cast a glow upon her slim shoulders and slender back, encased in some dreadful dressing gown long past its usefulness. Although not surprised by her dismissal, Raleigh was startled by the depth of his disappointment.
He had never particularly exerted himself for a woman, but he felt an insane notion that he would do anything to win Jane. Perhaps because she was his wife? That was part of it, certainly, but there was more. Jane was the only woman he had ever known who was worth winning. Oh, Charlotte was a goddess, to be sure, and warm and engaging, but he had always felt as though he was not quite smart enough for her even before her tendre for Wycliffe became apparent.
There had been others, of course, most of them pretty young women who laughed at his jests, yet lacked a complexity that he craved. Raleigh sighed at his own perversity. Odd business indeed that someone as simple as himself should seek out a difficult creature like Jane. Was he even up to the challenge?
“I’m sure these pranks are not dangerous, and you cannot be comfortable sleeping in a chair,” his wife said, jarring him from his unusual circumspection. Then she turned, and Raleigh felt his breath lodge in his chest. Even the hideous gray garment could not disguise her slender shape, and her eyes behind the glasses seemed strangely bright.
He shook his head. “No, I’m not leaving you alone after what happened today.” Although Raleigh did not care to admit it, the knowledge that someone had come and gone in the statuary room only moments after he had left it was disturbing. Stranded out here in the middle of nowhere without his usual complement of footmen and loyal servants, he was not trusting Jane’s safety to anyone except himself.
“But you cannot continue to sit up all night,” she said, with some dismay.
Raleigh shrugged. Although devoted to his comfort, he was even more devoted to his wife. “Perhaps if I borrowed a pillow or two…” His words trailed off as he noticed a flush climbing Jane’s cheeks.
She turned her face away, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her dainty ear, as if nervous, and Raleigh was just beginning to wonder what that might mean when she spoke again. “Surely, this bed is big enough to… accommodate us both without discomfort,” she said softly.
Raleigh nearly swallowed his tongue at her words. Was he delusional, or had he simply not heard her correctly? “What’s that?” he asked.
“The bed,” she said, turning toward him with an expression of exasperation. “If you insist upon remaining here, at least make use of it!”
Although tempted almost beyond reason to take her up on the offer, Raleigh had no intention of torturing himself further. And if he was to spend the rest of his life with this woman, pushing her too deeply into intimacy now would do them both little good. Unfortunately, his body was not in accord with his brain’s assessment, and he tried to wrestle it into submission.
Blinking, Raleigh took a
deep breath and forced himself to be frank. “I hate to tell you this, Jane, love, but no matter how little you think of me, I am a man. And what’s more, all my male parts are in working order. This marriage may have been sudden and unexpected, but you’re a lovely woman and I want you. If I stay here—”
Jane cut him off with a sniff. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, her mouth pursed into a prim line.
Raleigh looked at her blankly for a moment before bursting into a startled laugh. “You don’t think I want you?” he asked. “I thought I gave you a fairly good idea of my inclinations this afternoon, but if you don’t believe that, simply take a look.” He glanced ruefully downward, where through the silk of his banyan, it was painfully obvious.
Although Jane’s eyes grew wide behind her glasses, she shook her head. “I am not lovely.”
“I beg to differ,” Raleigh said, surprised at her denial. The females of his acquaintance usually loved compliments, but Jane seemed positively grim. She was glaring at him, her chin lifted in rebellion, just as though he had impugned her good name.
“Do not tease me, for I like it not,” she whispered. She glanced away, so that Raleigh could not see her expression, but she sounded so stricken that his stomach lurched.
“I would never lie to you, Jane,” he vowed. Moving behind her, Raleigh took her gently by the shoulders and turned to face the ornate mirror atop the heavy dressing table. “Now, look. Tell me what you see.”
She flinched, but he held her fast. “I see a plain girl with spectacles,” she murmured.
“Hmm.” Resisting the urge to draw her back against him, Raleigh kept his distance as he reached for her glasses. He had imagined removing them so often that his hands were trembling, just as if he were stripping her of her clothes—or her defenses. Perhaps he was, for he sensed that the round lenses acted as a shield, keeping the world at large from seeing the woman inside.
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