by Candace Camp
“Alec…” Damaris laughed, sitting up and leaning back against the massive headboard. “I am fine. Truly. ’Tis very nice of you to cosset me, but not necessary.”
“You have been through an ordeal that would send a large number of ladies into hysterics.”
“Ah, but I am not a lady.”
“Don’t talk nonsense.” He turned bright, fierce eyes on her. “You are the finest lady I know.” He ran his knuckles down her cheek. “Now, you eat up and drink your tot of brandy like a good patient.”
The butler himself carried in the small silver tray containing brandy and two glasses. He was followed a moment later by Alec’s aunt, who hugged Damaris and exclaimed over her, though she seemed rather vague as to what had actually happened to her. She also insisted on laying one of her own crocheted throws over Damaris’s legs, positive that whatever ailed her could be combated by heat. It was all Damaris could do to persuade her not to have more logs added to the fire. They were soon joined by Myles, offering jests and pleasantries, as well as by Lady Genevieve, who was, unsurprisingly, more reserved in her greetings.
Finally, Alec herded everyone out of the room, then came back to stand by the bed. “Would you like to be by yourself?”
“No.” Damaris reached out to take his hand. “I would rather you stay, if you don’t mind.”
“Hardly.” He sat down on the side of the bed. “Though my grandmother would have hysterics about my being alone with you in your chamber. The fact that I am sitting on your bed would probably render her speechless.”
“’Tis not the first time you have been with me here,” Damaris said softly, rubbing her thumb over the back of his hand.
A light sparked in his eyes. “Vixen,” he said affectionately. “You tempt me, knowing I cannot stay.”
“You need not stay. You could return.”
She felt his skin flare with heat under her fingers, and he lifted her hand to press a kiss to her palm. “You have no idea how much I want to. But I dare not. It was different when it was only Aunt Willa; she sleeps like the dead and would never whisper a word of sanction even if she saw me entering your room. But it’s a different matter now that Genevieve and Myles are here.”
“You worry they will gossip?”
“Lord, no. But…” He looked down at her hand, interlocking their fingers. “I want no hint of stain on your name.”
Alec cleared his throat and looked away. He was clearly reluctant to discuss the matter, so Damaris changed the subject.
“How did you find us so quickly?” she asked. “I mean, how did you know which way he had taken?”
“Genevieve told me.” When Damaris glanced at him, surprised, he went on. “She thought there was something odd about it all, so she watched you leave. She saw the two of you get into the post chaise and saw which direction it turned on the road. After that, it was easy enough to follow.”
His words surprised Damaris. She would have guessed that Alec’s icy sister would have been happy to have seen the last of her, not help him find Damaris. However, it hardly seemed polite to say that she thought Genevieve thoroughly disapproved of her. She was silent for a moment, picking at the covers, then asked another question that had been tugging at the back of her mind.
“Do you mean to pretend that Barrett is unknown to us?”
Alec shrugged. “I saw no reason to admit any connection, especially since it turned out so fortunately that he was passing himself off as someone else.”
“It seems wrong to let him be buried under a false name. His mother… someone… may wonder the rest of their days what happened to him.”
“Are you certain that Barrett Howard was his name?” Alec asked.
“No. It probably was not. Like Stanley, it is the name of an aristocratic family, and I imagine that he assumed it, too, to aid in passing himself off as some outlying member of that clan. You are right: I have no idea who he really was.”
“You thought he died years ago. I presume that everyone else who knew him by that name thought the same.”
Damaris nodded. “The trustees of my inheritance certainly believed him dead. They were as relieved as I.” Her lips curled in contempt. “That is the reason he wanted me to come with him.”
“What was?”
“The terms of the inheritance my father left me. At first, his aim was to smuggle me out of the country long enough for him to marry the heiress he had been dangling after. But he remembered that I would come into my inheritance in another couple of years, and he decided it would be better to be my husband again so that he could get his hands on my money. He said… he said if I was difficult, he would get a child on me and then do away with me and be the guardian of the money my baby would inherit.”
Alec’s eyelids drooped a little, covering the fierceness that leapt into them, and he said in that deceptively mild tone she had become familiar with, “I am sorry that I killed him so quickly.”
She squeezed his hand. “I did not want you to have to kill him, but I am grateful that you did. That is why I took your knife, you know. I thought I would get him far from you, and then I would slip the knife between his ribs.”
“Ah, my bloodthirsty girl. I am so proud of you.”
“Well, I could not. I mean, not in cold blood. I stabbed him when he attacked me, but it didn’t do much damage.”
“I know. I saw the blood on it when I picked it up off the floor.” He raised her hand to his lips again. “I was proud of you.”
There was a noise at the door as the maid came in with the tray of food, and Alec popped to his feet. He stayed with Damaris while she ate, but after she finished, her eyes began to droop, and Alec rose, bowing over her hand.
“You need to sleep. I shall go.” He bent and kissed her lightly on the lips, but Damaris curled her arm around his neck, and his kiss deepened. It was with some effort that at last he pulled away. His voice was hoarse as he said, “Sleep well.”
Perversely, once the maid had returned and solicitously helped her dress for bed, Damaris found that she was no longer sleepy. She lay down and spent a long time staring at the pattern of the tester above her head. Then she slipped out of bed and sat down in the chair by the window, watching the moonlight on the outer walls of the castle.
She missed Alec. How, she wondered, had she managed to get into such a state after only two weeks of being with him? She wanted to lie beside him. Well, the truth was that she wanted much more than that, but aside from the sweet, deep ache that yearned for the temptation and surcease that only he could bring, she missed lying in bed with Alec at night, feeling his warm body curled against her back. She missed the kiss he pressed upon her shoulder before he would slide into sleep, and she missed waking up in the dark hours before dawn, feeling the hard urgency of his desire as he, too, awakened.
Damaris sighed and got up, strolling restlessly around the room. She had heard the others’ footsteps as they came upstairs. She had heard the quiet movements of their valet and maid as they slipped away later. Everyone was in bed. She suspected that they were all asleep but her.
She went to the door and eased it open, peering out into the hall. It was quiet and dark, lit only by the moonlight filtering in through the tall, narrow windows at the end of the hall. Impulsively, Damaris slipped out of her room, closing the door silently behind her, and crept down the hall to the staircase. Lightly she went up the stairs and into the room above Alec’s, where she copied his actions at the mantel and the secret door opened for her. At the bottom of the narrow stairs, she turned the handle and slipped into his room.
Alec was lying in his bed, the sheet up to his waist. His head was turned away, toward the open window, but she saw the flash of his open eyes, and she knew that he was lying there as awake as she had been. He turned his head toward her, his eyes sweeping down her form. She knew that he took in the dark circles of her nipples beneath the thin cloth of her gown, that as she walked toward the bed, he followed the movement of her legs under the cotton, the soft
swaying of her breasts.
She came to stand beside him, and he looked up at her. “You should not be here.” His voice was low and hoarse.
“Do you want me to leave?”
“You know I do not.” He reached up and laid his hand flat over her stomach, watching as he glided it over her body, caressing her hips and thighs and breasts through the material. He bunched the gown in his fist, tugging her onto the bed.
She crawled up onto the high bed and slid over his body, the faint groan he made as she did so turning her hot and soft inside. She stopped when her mouth reached his, and she kissed his upper lip, then the lower one, then settled in to taste him thoroughly.
Damaris seduced him slowly, using her hands and mouth all over him, and when he reached up under her gown, she pulled away and stripped it off over her head. Then she returned, taking his hands and pulling them up over his head as she returned to kissing him, and he let her pin him there just as though he could not easily break her hold. She teased at his flat masculine nipples with her teeth and tongue and lips, then moved down over the ridges of his rib cage. Her hair trailed behind her like a dark cloud as she moved, gliding over his skin in its own gossamer caress. He jerked, his flesh quivering, as her mouth reached the soft flat plane of his belly.
She took him in her hands, stroking and cupping, gliding the edges of her nails along the satin-smooth shaft. He made an inarticulate noise and his hands clutched at the columns of the headboard above him. His fingers dug into the wood as she teased him into exquisite tension, pulsing and hard. His fingers dug into the wood behind his head, and his head was arched back, the veins in his neck throbbing, his breath ragged in his throat.
Damaris straddled him, easing down onto him, taking him fully within her until her heart clutched within her chest at the delicious joy of it. With long, slow strokes she moved upon him as he had taught her to, and with every deep glide, she was pierced by the ecstasy of it until at last she shuddered into the dark, mindless pleasure she sought.
Alec whipped over, pulling her beneath him, still hard and full within her. Straining to hold back his own fulfillment, he moved his hips in slow, deep thrusts, arousing the need in Damaris once again until she was trembling all over, aching to reach that elusive peak. He teased and tormented them both, holding back, until finally he slammed into her as he crested, muffling his cry against her neck, and as he did, Damaris reached her own shattering explosion.
He collapsed against her, and she clung to him, both of them spent and incapable of movement.
Twenty-five
Damaris awoke and lay for a moment feeling strangely disoriented, for she was no longer in the bed where she had gone to sleep. Then she remembered awakening before dawn and creeping back through the hidden staircase and down to her room. She let out a soft sigh of regret at not awakening beside Alec, but she pushed the thought from her mind. The world was as it was, and she must get used to it.
She rolled lazily out of bed and stretched, aware of all her aches and bruises after yesterday’s adventure. It was already past breakfast, she was sure, so she settled for having tea and toast on a tray in her room. After that, she rang for a bath and spent a long time soaking in the warm water. All through the bath and afterward, as she sat in front of the low fire, brushing out her wet hair and drying it, she thought about Alec.
It was impossible to deny anymore that she loved him. But she was not foolish or naïve enough to think that their future lay together. He could not marry someone like her; she was well aware of that. The only question was whether she was willing to grab for the joy of being with him now, bartering for that happiness with the life she knew and enjoyed.
Clearly the danger that had sent her and Alec to Northumberland was now over. There was no reason for her to remain with him here at his home, and it would be awkward to continue living at the castle now that Genevieve was in residence. Sneaking about, creeping down the hall to his room at night and returning before the sun came up, rarely alone with him during the day and interacting with him in the formal manner of a houseguest, was simply not enough to satisfy Damaris.
It was time for her leave, to pick up her life again. The only question now was what that life would be like. And how much of a part Alec would play in it.
Damaris had never been one to avoid harsh reality, so once she was dressed and her hair dry and swept up into a simple coil, she went downstairs to talk to Alec. However, when she stepped into the drawing room, she found only Lady Genevieve there.
“Mrs. Howard.” Genevieve popped up from her chair. “I hope you have recovered from your ordeal.”
“Yes, I feel quite well.” Damaris resigned herself to delaying her search for Alec for a few minutes and came farther into the room. “I wanted to thank you. Lord Rawdon told me that it was you who told him which road to take yesterday to find me.”
“Yes.” Genevieve nodded a little stiffly. “I—Alec was… very distressed. I cannot bear to see him hurt.” She hesitated, then went on, “Sir Myles tells me I have been rude to you.”
“Oh, no, he should not,” Damaris replied quickly.
“Sir Myles no doubt does a number of things he should not,” Genevieve said tartly. “However, I will bow to his knowledge in this regard. I am not—I know that I often seem aloof. I—I am not good at talking to people.” Pink tinged the ridges of her cheekbones, reminding Damaris of her brother.
Because of that similarity, Damaris could not help but soften toward the young woman. “Pray, do not worry. I am often at a loss for conversation myself.”
Genevieve smiled faintly. “Thank you for saying so—though I think that is probably a bouncer. You seem very much one of those women who put everyone at ease. But what I am trying to say, with so little success, is that if I have in any way offended you, I hope you will accept my apologies. I love my brother very much.” She gave Damaris a searching look. “I do not want there to be enmity between us.”
“Nor do I,” Damaris assured her. “Alec is—” She hesitated; she could not simply blurt out to this reserved woman that she loved her brother. Finally, she finished, somewhat lamely, “He is dear to me as well.”
“Good. Then… well, I should go tell Alec that you are up and about. He wanted to know when you came downstairs.” Genevieve turned and started toward the door, but before she reached it, she turned back and fixed Damaris with a hawklike gaze. “But if you hurt Alec, I promise you, I will make you regret it.”
On those words, she whipped around and walked out of the room. Damaris gazed after her for a moment, wondering exactly what to make of their conversation. Of course, she reminded herself, it did not really matter whether Genevieve warmed to her or not. She was unlikely to spend any time with the woman in the future, given the decision Damaris had made.
At the sound of hurried footsteps in the hall, Damaris turned and saw Alec step into the room, and her heart lifted inside her. Would there ever come a time, she wondered, when she would not melt looking at those high, fierce cheekbones and shocking blue eyes? She smiled and saw the same breathless burst of excitement and pleasure mirrored in Alec’s face.
“How are you?” he asked, coming forward and reaching out to take both her hands in his. “Genevieve said you looked well. That doesn’t begin to describe how lovely a sight you are.”
He was standing so close to her now, she had to bend her head back to look at him. Damaris would have liked more than anything to put her arms around him and lean her head against his chest. It was almost frightening how much she wanted—needed—to be close to him. She wondered if she really must talk to him immediately, if it would not be better to put it off a little while longer. It did not matter, really, did it, if they had to share the next few days with others? They would find bits of time to be together.
Sternly she reined in her thoughts and said, “I wanted to speak with you.”
He smiled. “Did you? Curious. I wanted to speak with you as well. Shall we take a turn about the garden?”
>
Damaris nodded. It would be better to have this conversation outside, where there would be no listening ears, no chance of someone popping into the room. She tucked her hand into his arm and they walked out, taking the rear door down into the garden.
“What did you want to say to me?” she asked, thinking to put the moment off.
“No, you first.” He smiled down at her. “I may need to bolster my courage.”
She gave him an odd glance, but she was too wrapped up in what she had to say to wonder about his choice of words. Drawing a breath, she began, “I should return to Chesley soon.”
She felt his arm stiffen beneath her hand, and he came to a dead halt. “What? You are leaving?”
“It—it is awkward here, with Lady Genevieve and Sir Myles so close. We have to monitor our words, our movements.”
“I will tell them to leave.”
Damaris had to chuckle. “No, you cannot do that. ’Twould be rude. The thing is: if I stay here while Genevieve is here, there would be gossip about it later. People would criticize you, and it would be uncomfortable for Genevieve.”
“Criticize me for what? What people? Damaris… what notion have you taken now? There will be no gossip about this—well, mayhap a small amount if word reaches the ton that I shot that man. But it will not touch upon you; I will make sure of that. We did not even give those people your name yesterday.”
“No, it isn’t that. Oh, I am going about this all wrong. I have been thinking and thinking about this, and now my tongue just seems to get twisted up.” She drew a breath and started again. “Alec, it will cause gossip that you had your mistress in the house with your sister there. You know ’tis not at all the thing.”
“Is that what you are worried about?” His brow cleared. “No one will know about that.”
“Yes, they will. Oh, I am not saying that your sister or Myles will reveal anything, but word will get out. Later, in London, when we… I think that I should move to London. Buy a house where you can come to me.”
