Turning back to the door, he slid the key in the big, black lock and gave it a savage twist. The lock gave way, and he pushed open the door and walked inside.
Charles didn’t need to explore the interior to know that Raoul had used this place, as well as the dungeon beneath the Dower House in Devonshire, for his vicious amusements. Women had died here. Died in agony, screaming for help that never appeared. And Raoul, his own brother, had been the monster who had slaughtered them…for pleasure. Bile rose in Charles’s throat, and loathing and horror washed over him.
The only source of light came from the doorway, but guessing what would be there, Charles reached along the wall for the candle and flint that had been placed on a narrow ledge. Lighting the candle, he stepped into the room, carefully shutting the door behind him and dropping the iron bar that locked it from the inside. He wanted no one to see this room, least of all Daphne.
It was not a dungeon, but the room, though on a much smaller scale, was terrifyingly similar. A tiny cell was in one corner, and iron manacles hung from the wall; a stone slab served the same purpose as the one in the dungeon beneath the Dower House, the dark splatter of stains on its surface silent testimony to the horrifying fate of Raoul’s helpless, nameless victims.
Moving stiffly like a man whose limbs were frozen, Charles forced himself to explore the area. His greatest fear was not realized; he found no bodies. Raoul, he decided, must have disposed of the remains of his victims under cover of darkness. Most likely, by throwing them into the sea, he thought sickly, forcing himself to look more closely at the room and its meager contents. He didn’t expect to find anything useful, and he did not. His search complete, he unbolted the door and fairly shot out of the building, gulping in great breaths of air, trying to cleanse the odor of death from him, trying to push away the horror of that small room.
He locked the door and strode over to where Daphne waited for him. Daphne took one look at his pale, tortured face and flung herself into his arms, wrapping herself around him as if the touch of her body could draw all the pain and poison away from him. Her lips pressing desperate little kisses along his neck and jaw, she said, “Do not think of it. Put it from you.” Cupping his face in her hands, she made him look at her. “He was a monster. You are not. You are nothing like him, and you bear no blame or guilt. His deeds are his own…and that of his loathsome mother.”
Charles gave her a twisted smile. “I know the truth of what you say, but I cannot…”
Daphne shook him. “You must. You must not let his sins become your sins.” She shook him again, harder. “He was the evil one, not you.” She clutched him close. “Never you.”
Charles crushed her next to him and buried his head against her neck. For silent moments, they stayed locked together, Charles feeling the horror, the ugliness drift from him as he drank in the sweet scent of her perfume, the soft warmth of her body. Daphne would allow no devils to ride him, and she would always lead him into the sunlight and drive away the darkness. She might not love him, kindness might prompt her actions, but she was his salvation, and he loved her more than life itself. His lips found hers, and he kissed her deeply, reveling in her instant response, reveling in the joy that she brought him.
Lifting his lips from hers, he tried for a light note. “Thank you. Not many brides would be so accepting of a fiend like Raoul in the family tree.” He ran a caressing finger over her mouth. “I am sure this is not quite how you expected to spend your first few days of marriage.”
She smiled tremulously. “Does it matter? If Fate is kind, we shall have many, many years together, years which we shall look back on with joy. So what are a few days of, um, unpleasantness over the course of a lifetime?”
“Unpleasant is one way of putting it,” he said dryly, urging her away from this cursed spot and toward the front of the house.
Daphne spared a last glance at the building. “What are you going to do with it?”
“Thrash it from the inside out and let it fall into itself,” he said grimly.
“Despite that ghastly little building, we didn’t really find anything helpful at the house,” Daphne said a few minutes later as the coach bounced down the driveway toward the main road. Thoughtfully she added, “But that doesn’t prove anything either.”
“I would have been more encouraged if we had found some jewels,” Charles replied sourly.
“Because it would prove that Sofia did give them to him and he didn’t return for them?”
He nodded. “At least we would have something to show for our efforts and confirmation of our suspicions. And if we had found some jewels, it would indicate that he did die because he didn’t come back for them. As it is, we’re still stumbling around in the dark.” He looked at her, noting the weariness in her eyes. “I shouldn’t have brought you along,” he said abruptly. “I should have insisted that you return to Cornwall.”
“And have everyone gossiping that we had quarreled so soon?” Daphne muttered, looking at her gloved hands in her lap.
His eyes narrowed. “Is that why you came with me? To keep others from gossiping about us?”
“Does it matter why I came with you?” she asked, lifting her gaze to his face. “Isn’t it sufficient that I am by your side?”
No! By God, he thought fiercely, staring blindly out the window at the gathering dusk, her presence was not sufficient. Her reasons for being here beside him mattered enormously. It mattered so much it was eating him alive, tearing him apart, and he wondered again why she had remained with him and not returned to Cornwall. He wanted her presence here with him to be because there was no other place on earth she’d rather be and not, he admitted with an acrid taste in his throat, because she wished to avoid wagging tongues or it was her damned duty. He smiled bitterly to himself. It wasn’t enough that she loved her siblings above all else, but it appeared that she also loved duty and the avoidance of gossip with an equal fervor. Which left him where in her affections? Somewhere dangling at the bottom?
His thoughts too painful to bear, he said, “Of course your mere presence is all I could ask for.”
Daphne frowned. Since that evening in the library at Stonegate when he had proposed she return to Cornwall, there was frequently an odd undercurrent between them. We’re fencing with each other, she decided dolefully, but I don’t know why. I don’t even know its cause. And if I don’t know why or what, how can I fix it?
Her gaze fixed on his profile, she asked quietly, “What is wrong between us? Something is…I can feel it. I know that our marriage was not what either of us wanted, but I thought…I thought that we were dealing very well together.” The threat of tears clogging her throat, she blurted out, “Have I done something to offend you?”
Her words ripped into him like a lion’s claw. How could he blame her for putting Adrian and April before him? She had years and years of memories with her brother and sister, and she’d known him what? A month? Less? It wasn’t her fault that he had fallen madly in love with her almost on sight. Nor was it her fault that she did not love him as he loved her…yet, he amended vehemently. She would love him! But not, he realized, if he allowed his own despair and jealousy to fester between them.
“Oh, my darling,” Charles said thickly, “you could never offend me.” Pulling her onto his lap, he added, “And there is nothing wrong between us.” With her head nestled against his chest, he pulled off the charming green bonnet that matched her velvet pelisse and tossed it on the seat. Brushing a kiss against the soft, fragrant black curls that tickled his chin, he murmured, “This…thing with Raoul has made me like a wounded bear. I am sorry that I allowed it to come between us.” He tipped up her chin and smiled down into her face. “When I scowl and snap or seem preoccupied, never believe that it is because of something that you have done.”
His handsome apology didn’t quite address the problem because it wasn’t his scowling and snapping that had disrupted the harmony between them, but Daphne was happy enough to allow the subject to drop.
Besides, it was wonderful to be in his arms and have him looking at her with such a warm light in his eyes. He must care for her. She knew that they had liking and respect between them. A faint blush stained her cheeks. And desire, of that there seemed aplenty, she admitted, feeling her blush deepen. But would those things be enough for them to make a happy life together? She desperately wanted him to love her, and she knew that if she could not make him love her as much as she loved him, inevitable heartbreak lay down the road.
Wrenching her thoughts away from the path they had taken, she smiled back up at him. Striving for a light note, she murmured, “Does this mean that no matter what I do, such as fritter away all of my pin money long before the next quarter’s payment, you will never frown when the tradesmen come dunning you at your door?”
He laughed. “No, you little minx, I don’t mean that at all. I mean that if I am angry or upset with you, you will know precisely the reason why.”
Content for the moment, Daphne settled comfortably against him, listening to the strong beat of his heart beneath her ear. Hopefully, one day, she thought drowsily, and not too far distant, that heart will beat for me….
Since there were still a few hours of daylight left, they decided to see what they could discover about Raoul’s yacht, supposedly berthed in the harbor in town. The harbor at Poole was a busy place, but this time of the day, there was not the hustle and bustle there would have been a few hours earlier. Still, there were plenty of people wandering about, and it only took a few inquiries from passers-by to find the slip where Raoul’s yacht, The Dark Hunter, was moored. Charles had always thought the name of Raoul’s yacht was fanciful, but now he found the name repugnant.
Having boarded the yacht, Charles and Daphne set about looking for any place that Raoul could have safely hidden some of Sofia’s jewels. While the yacht was small, it was also compact, with dozens of places to search, and Charles despaired of finding anything useful. No one was more surprised than he when after several minutes of exploration, he discovered a small niche hidden in the head-board of Raoul’s bed. He fumbled for a second but managed to retrieve a small leather bag stuffed deep in the niche.
His eyes met Daphne’s as he pulled the bag free. It wasn’t empty—he could feel the weight in his hand. With trembling fingers, he opened the bag and dumped the contents onto the dark blue wool blanket on the bed. A diamond necklace, a pearl-encrusted sapphire brooch, and a pair of matching earrings glittered and gleamed against the background of the coverlet.
“So now we know,” Daphne said shakily. “Sofia did plan ahead.”
Charles nodded slowly. “But why,” he wondered aloud, “did he hide them on the yacht and not at the house?”
A terrifying thought occurred to her. “Perhaps he did,” she said.
Charles stiffened, easily following her train of thought. “He came to the house and took the jewels hidden in it,” he said slowly, “but not these. Why not?”
There was a shout from outside, and someone cursed.
“Of course,” Charles said as enlightenment dawned. “The house is secluded, surrounded by forest and garden, guarded only by a half deaf, crippled old man. Simple enough for Raoul to slip into the house, take what he needed, and disappear. But the harbor where his yacht is moored is an entirely different story.”
“I suspect that someone is always around the docks. Boats and ships arriving at all different times of the day and night,” Daphne said. “There would be sailors returning to their ships after a night in town, guards patrolling to stop theft, captains, merchants inspecting their cargo. Once he left the safety of the buildings around the docks, he would have found it far more difficult to reach the yacht unseen.”
Charles nodded. “I agree.” He glanced at the jewels. “We have proof now that Raoul stashed away some of his mother’s jewels. But we still don’t know whether he came back to the house and took what he had hidden there or if his yacht was the only place, at least in this area, that he used as a hiding place.”
Plucking up the jewels, Charles slipped them back into the leather bag. Concealing the bag within his coat, he took Daphne’s arm and said, “We can decide nothing here. We shall find an inn and consider our next course of action.”
Daphne found it interesting that he did not order the coachman to drive in the direction of Brighton or London, both places where Raoul was known to have lodgings, but instead chose the opposite direction, the direction from whence they had come. Looking at him in the gloom of the interior of the coach, she asked, “Aren’t we going to continue the search? You said that he had rooms in Brighton and London.”
He reached over and took her hand in his. “Finding the jewels on his yacht changes everything. Along with the bodies of those women in Cornwall, they are another sign that Raoul could very well be alive.” He looked away, his jaw working. “It was foolhardy to bring you with me, especially considering the possibility that we might have, at any moment, been confronted by a monster.” He shook his head as if to clear it. “When we found the jewels, I realized that I have been looking for Raoul with no real expectation of finding him, and that was reckless and dangerous. I placed you in peril today, and I shall not again,” he said grimly. When she would have protested, he looked back at her and put a finger against her lips. “Listen to me, Daphne! If you were with me, half my attention would be on you, and Raoul would take advantage of that. Good God! What if we had found him today? I am not even armed. I must have been mad to take you with me.”
Though Daphne argued until she wanted to scream and drum her heels in frustration, Charles was adamant. She would play no further part in determining whether Raoul was alive or dead. They were returning to Cornwall.
“And I suppose,” she said acidly, “once there, that you intend to immediately abandon me at Beaumont Place while you go haring off all over the countryside looking for more of your stepmother’s jewels.”
He shook his head. “Not immediately. First, I must hear from Gerrard and have a full list of all the places that Raoul could have secreted them away.” Despite her resistance, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her fully.
Daphne fought gamely against the hot rush of pleasure and desire that flooded her as his mouth teased hers, but in the end, even angry with him, she could not resist. The stiffness left her body, and her arms crept around his neck. She kissed him back, her lips warm and seductive against his.
“You are an utter beast,” she said when they finally broke apart. “And I shall never forgive you.”
He smiled angelically at her, and she suppressed the urge to box his ears. Men!
Their return to Beaumont Place was greeted by great delight, and if anyone noticed that there was a slight air of tension between the pair, no one commented. Although Nell, having closely observed the newlyweds during dinner, said to Julian as they slid into bed that evening, “I think Daphne is irritated with Charles.”
Julian laughed. “The lady has my sympathies. I have frequently been irritated with Charles.” Laughter fading, he asked, “Something serious, do you think?”
She shook her head. “No, they’re clearly enamoured of one another. Daphne’s eyes light up when he enters the room, and she is constantly searching for him when he is gone. She loves him.”
“And Charles?” Julian asked with a lifted brow.
“Oh, he’s absolutely mad about her. The expression on his face when he looks at her and thinks himself unobserved…” She sighed dramatically. “Ah, if you looked at me that way, milord….”
Julian’s eyes darkened, and he pulled her into his arms. Dropping soft kisses across her face, he muttered, “I do all the time, you little devil. I am besotted by you.”
Nell giggled and snuggled close to his big body. “It’s nice, isn’t it? Being married and in love?”
Julian moved suggestively against her. “Very.”
Married less than two weeks, Daphne and Charles might not have the easy relationship that Julian and Nell had forged in the pas
t three years, but there was a bond between them, and Daphne had great hopes that someday, Charles would love her. She knew the state of her own heart and marveled at how effortlessly she had fallen so deeply in love with him. Like a ripe plum falling from a tree, she thought half amused, half annoyed.
Seated at her dressing table, brushing her thick, curly black hair, she caught a glimpse of him in the mirror as he lounged in the doorway between her bedroom and their shared sitting room. He was watching her, and the expression in those jade green eyes made her pulse race and heat pool low in her belly. He was wearing a dark green velvet robe, and she knew that he was naked beneath the fabric…as was she under her lavender silk dressing gown. With a hand that trembled, she put down the silver-inlaid brush and swinging around on the tufted satin stool, faced him.
He pushed away from the doorway and crossing to her, murmured, “Don’t stop because of me. I like watching you.”
“But I was only brushing my hair,” she said.
“Hmm, and very seductively, too, I might add,” he said as he came to stand beside her and picked up the brush. “Let me show you,” he said huskily. Gently, he turned her back toward the mirror and slowly began to brush her hair.
Having Charles brush her hair was entirely different than when she did it herself. There was something about the way the bristles slid through the long strands, the look in his eyes, and the heat that radiated from his big body into hers that made her acutely aware of her own body. She didn’t know how he did it, but in a matter of moments, those long, slow, seductive strokes through her hair had her nipples hard and tingling, and she was moving restlessly on the satin stool, trying to ease the honeyed ache building between her legs.
Their eyes met in the mirror, and her breath caught at the naked hunger in his. He dropped the brush and spun her around. His hands on her shoulders, he pulled her to him and kissed her. His lips were warm, his tongue deeply probing, and Daphne shuddered in his arms as desire swept through her.
Seduction Becomes Her Page 24
