"I'll look it over tomorrow morning, and perhaps by the end of the week we can set events in motion," she said finally.
Latimer shook his head. "No. I want to waste no more time. Just as soon as I can get my hands on the Franklyn money, we are leaving for New Orleans. I find that this place has lost its charm for me too, and if I had my way, we would both be on that packet which arrived this afternoon from New Orleans and which will be returning there on Friday morning." Taking another sip of his port, he stared blindly at the far wall, all his thoughts and energies on getting revenge-and money.
"Josh Manchester's party is also on Friday," he mur mured reflectively. "And I already know that young Franklyn will be attending. I would have preferred another location and time for my sudden run of luck, but since last night, I no longer have the luxury of waiting for the most opportune moment. I shall have to make my move that evening. It is unfortunate that the packet is leaving a day too soon for us, or we would be on it."
"Well, then, there is no hurry about Dominic, is there?" Deborah asked reasonably.
Latimer smiled tightly. "I have plans of my own, but in order for my plans to be effective, yours must take place first. By this time tomorrow night, I want you to have enjoyed the pleasures you think you have missed."
Having fantasized for many years about Dominic's lovemaking, Deborah was not loath to go along with her brother's ideas. And her vanity was such that she was quite positive that, once having lain in her arms, Dominic would want to repeat the process several more times.... Visualizing a rosy future in which Dominic was so enamored of her charms that he deserted his wife and followed her to England, Deborah said dreamily, "Whatever you say, dear brother."
She was not quite so sanguine the next morning when he roused her out of bed at the unheard-of hour of seven o'clock, nor were her doubts about the suitability of the gazebo laid to rest as they walked out onto the narrow, half-rotted dock to view the building. Clinging tightly to her brother's arm, Deborah gingerly approached the formerly attractive but now timeworn and neglected structure.
Originally this particular spot had been lovely, the sprawling, irregularly shaped pond kept fresh and clear by a small creek that had emptied into it, the creek re-forming at the opposite end of the pond where a wide, shallow overflow area had been created by tightly interlaced logs. In the spring, wildflowers abounded on the banks of the pond, willow trees and birch growing right down to the water's edge in some places. The delicately latticed gazebo jutted off to one side about halfway out on the narrow dock, and it took little imagination to visualize the past with children fishing or swimming in the shallow pond while their mothers sat in the small gazebo and enjoyed a cozy gossip, sipping tall glasses of lemonade.
But that had been many years ago, and now the pond was choked with duckweed and algae, the creek having changed its course, leaving the pond without a constant influx of fresh water. While the seasonal rains helped some, by autumn the remaining water was a murky green soup of rotting vegetation. Holding a perfume-scented lace handkerchief to her nose, Deborah exclaimed, "Oh, this will never do-such a noxious odor!"
"That can be taken care of," Latimer returned carelessly as he stepped cautiously into the gazebo. Finding the floor solid, he glanced around, noting the cobwebs and the occasional broken lattice. The place was filthy and had obviously been unused for many, many years, but he saw nothing that would preclude it from being the site of Dominic's seduction.
Deborah, however, was of another mind. "You cannot be serious!" she shrieked, giving a shudder as her gaze took in the ramshackle interior. But it was the slightly sinister pond that disturbed her the most, and gazing at its unmoving vegetation-clouded surface, she shuddered again, thinking of all the hidden horrors she was positive lurked just underneath.
But Latimer was not to be swayed, and despite Deborah's vociferous protestations to the contrary, he immediately set the servants to work on the building. When she viewed it several hours later, Deborah resentfully had to admit that he had been right. No longer did the interior appear ramshackle and unused, for after a thorough sweeping and scrubbing, several costly items from the house had been installed, and the look was quite different.
Upon the floor now lay a small green-and-cream Oriental rug, and to ensure privacy as well as to hide any unsightliness, several bolts of startling pink muslin material swathed the walls, the ends all caught together and attached to the roof to form a tentlike canopy.
A gold damask-covered chaise had been installed, and mounds of blue satin pillows were placed strategically nearby. Next to the chaise stood a small mahogany table, its gleaming surface nearly hidden by a silver tray which held a decanter of brandy and a pair of snifters. Near the entrance had been placed a candlestand with a crystal candelabrum upon it. The scent of lilacs and roses perfumed the air, the rug and pillows having been liberally sprinkled with scented water before their installation.
Grudgingly Deborah congratulated her brother. "This was exactly what I had in mind . . . except for the proximity of the water," she said as she walked around the small room, her hand idly touching the fine muslin which seemed to flow everywhere. Her eyes on the chaise, imagining herself and Dominic locked there in a torrid embrace, she smiled. "It is perfect, Julius! I shall go up to my room to write the note to Dominic and have it delivered immediately!"
A short while later, her pitiful note begging for Dominic's instant help on its way, Deborah merrily ordered a bath prepared for herself and then browsed happily through her overflowing 'wardrobe trying to decide which of her many gowns would be the most seductive . . . and easy to remove. Unaware of Dominic's clandestine activities last night, she could not have guessed that when her servant arrived with the message at the cottage, it would be to discover that the master of the house was still abed and that it was the mistress of the house who received her calculatingly worded little note. Nor would she have recalled that in her haste to get the message sent, she had neglected to address the envelope, merely ordering the servant to deliver the note to the Slade house.
Long after the servant had ridden away from the cottage, Melissa stared at the blank front of the envelope, the scent Deborah always wore wafting up to her nostrils. Even if she had not recognized Deborah's perfume, the servant had politely identified himself as being from Lady Bowden, so she was without a doubt about who had sent the letter to her husband and, despite its lack of address, that it was for her husband!
Seating herself on the gallery, she carefully laid the envelope down on a nearby table, her expression pensive. Should she waken Dominic? she wondered somberly. The note could be important. But then again . . . Her soft mouth tightened. Then again, it could be Lady Bowden angling for an intimate tête-à-tête with her husband! As she thought of Dominic, of the way he had been sleeping so deeply when she had left him this morning, Melissa's features were suddenly tender, all thought of Deborah's motives for writing Dominic vanishing as she lost herself in the sweet memory of last night.
Melissa had been able to occupy her time doing various feminine tasks for a few hours after Dominic and Royce had ridden away for the Latimer place, but all the while her thoughts had been on them and what they were doing. She told herself time and again that they would be safe, that there was nothing to worry about, but she still could not help being concerned and anxious for them to return. Sternly she had kept all her fears at bay, reminding herself that Dominic and Royce were quite capable of taking care of themselves, but it was difficult for her to be entirely at ease. Fighting her fears became even worse once she had retired for the evening, and lying alone in her bed, she berated herself for not having demanded that they take her with them. Why, she could have acted as lookout, if nothing else! she thought belatedly. Giving up all pretense of sleep, she wandered into Dominic's room. Seated in the middle of his big bed, she settled down to wait for his return, ridiculously comforted by clutching the pillow that still bore his scent. Fears abated for the moment as she recalled the look o
n Dominic's face when he had said, "I adore you!" Dreamily she stared into space, the knowledge that Dominic loved her filling her with a warm glow.
Melissa curled up in the middle of the blue satin coverlet, Dominic's pillow clasped reassuringly against her slender body, and the sleep which had eluded her so far gradually crept over her. And it was thus that Dominic, exhausted but elated, found her when he returned home sometime after four o'clock in the morning.
Hardly daring to believe his eyes, he called softly, "Melissa?"
Melissa heard his low voice, and waking with a start, she sat bolt upright in bed, her hair tousled and her cheeks rosy from sleep. Looking like a blinking-eyed kitten, she spied Dominic's tall form approaching and exclaimed hap pily, "Oh, you are home! I was worried and waited up for you. I could not sleep."
Absently unbuttoning his shirt, his smile very tender, o he sat down on the edge of the bed. "Oh? And what was it you were doing just now?" he teased gently, the gray eyes moving caressingly over her face.
The knowledge that he loved her emboldened her, and she threw herself into his arms, laughing. "I wasn't sleeping," she murmured softly. "I was dreaming ... about you. "
"Were you, now?" Dominic replied huskily. Melissa's warm body pressed ardently against him, making him forget all sorts of things, such as how late it was ... how little sleep he'd had in the past forty-eight hours ... how tired he was.... Gathering her closer, his teeth nibbling gently on the lobe of her ear, he asked thickly, "And what was I doing in this dream of yours?"
A shiver of desire snaked down Melissa's spine, and marveling at her brazenness, she rained teasingly sweet kisses across his face and throat, her fingers sliding under his half-opened shirt, sensuously exploring the warm, taut flesh that she found. "Oh, you were doing this . . . " she muttered as her hand rubbed his flat nipples. "And this. . . ."
Dominic groaned as her hands continued to move intimately over him, and the hungry ache that had struck him the moment he had laid eyes on her suddenly exploded in his belly. Capturing her mouth with his, he kissed her fiercely, his tongue thrusting demandingly into hers, his hands urgently running up and down her body as the rigid control he had placed on himself all these weeks was violently wrenched away, leaving only a powerful, elemental passion in its wake. Together they sank slowly backward onto the bed, mouths, arms and legs entwined....
With a start Melissa brought herself back to the present, a faint blush on her cheeks as she became aware of her swollen nipples rubbing against the fabric of her gown. This would never do! she told herself severely, and looking at the letter from Deborah, she frowned. Though it was late afternoon, she knew that Dominic would not awaken for at least another hour or two. It had been dawn before they had fallen asleep in each other's arms, their bodies sated, their love for each other fully acknowledged, and although it had been nearly noon when Melissa had awakened, Dominic had not even stirred when she slipped from the bed-and she certainly was not going to wake him now to give him a message from Deborah Bowden!
For several minutes she considered opening the envelope herself. Her conscience troubling her, but arguing that the envelope was unaddressed and so could have been meant for either of them, she took a deep breath and, not giving herself time to change her mind, quickly opened it. Swiftly reading Deborah's pitiful little plea, Melissa was struck by doubt.
She didn't believe for one moment that Deborah's need was as desperate as claimed; on the other hand, Melissa remembered the look in Latimer's cold blue eyes, the violence she sensed within him that day in the tack room when he had first broached his ugly plan, and she wondered if there wasn't an element of truth in what Deborah had written. Perhaps Latimer had beaten her savagely. It was possible that she did fear for her life. And, knowing Dominic, she thought it was entirely possible that he had offered Deborah sanctuary. But then ...
Her eyes narrowed. It was also, she thought reflectively, quite possible that everything in the note was a sham and that Deborah's only purpose in writing it was to bring Dominic on the run. And that, she decided firmly, was intolerable!
Glancing again at the dainty script and deciding that if Deborah's plight was as wretched as claimed, the other woman would welcome help from any quarter, Melissa stood up resolutely. She would come to Deborah's rescue. If Deborah needed rescuing, she concluded cynically as she left the gallery and headed for the stables.
Fortunately, she was still in her riding habit, not that it would have made much difference to her, and within minutes she was on her way, the powerful black gelding she had chosen to ride hitting a distance-eating stride that rapidly brought Melissa near her destination. She was familiar with the house that Latimer had leased and equally familiar with the gazebo, where Deborah had written she would be waiting for Dominic. Not totally convinced of the truth of Deborah's letter, Melissa took no chances, guiding her horse off the main trail some distance from the house and approaching the gazebo from the opposite side of the pond.
A careful scrutiny of the area revealed nothing out of the ordinary and cautiously she edged the big horse around the pond, keeping herself well concealed in the forest until she had reached a point not far from the beginning of the docks. Dismounting lithely, she tied her horse securely to a slim birch tree. She hesitated a moment, her gaze moving once more over the area. Beset with thoughts of spies and the dangers associated with such people, she continued to stand there hidden by the forest, wondering uncertainly if what she was doing was wise. It probably wasn't, but then Dominic had said that Latimer was not a real spy. Annoyed with herself for letting her imagination overpower her common sense, Melissa stepped forward boldly, her leather riding crop gripped tightly in one hand. The crop wouldn't prove to be much of a weapon, should she have to use it, but its solid weight in her hand comforted her.
Warily she approached the dock and just as warily stole across its narrow width, getting closer to the gazebo. It was-only when she was but a few feet from the building that she became aware of the faint odor of lilac in the air and noticed for the first time the pink material which concealed the interior of the gazebo. A woman's soft humming emanated from inside the muslin-swathed structure, and with a narrowing of her eyes, she realized that it was a happy sound. Not at all the sound of terrified sobbing!
Growing more positive by the second of the wisdom of her decision to come here, Melissa intrepidly marched to the opening of the gazebo, the scent of lilacs and roses forcibly assaulting her nostrils. The sight that met her gaze made her extremely thankful that she had not awakened her husband! It was glaringly obvious, after one swift, allencompassing glance around, that it was not a rescue that had prompted Deborah's letter, but blatant seduction!
The sheer lurid pinkness of the interior nearly made Me Lissa blink, and despite the gravity of the situation, she had to suppress a giggle as she tried to imagine Dominic's face if he had ridden posthaste to answer Deborah's plea for help and had found this! And as her gaze fell upon the supposed damsel in distress, she had to fight to keep a stern expression on her face-to find any damsel looking less distressful would have been difficult!
Unaware that she now had an audience, Deborah lolled about in what she no doubt assumed was an alluring pose, half reclining, half sitting on the gold chaise, a snifter of brandy in one hand. She was wearing the most indecent garment Melissa had ever seen, a nearly transparent lilac gown which opened down the front, the only thing holding it together a small bow which fastened under Deborah's full breasts. It took Melissa a moment before she recognized the garment as the gauzy overdress of a ball gown, and she had to admire Deborah's ingenuity and audacity in wearing such a provocative piece of clothing. Humming happily to herself, Deborah took a healthy gulp of the brandy just then and from her awkward, jerky movements it was apparent that this was not the first brandy she had consumed this afternoon.
Melissa had not infrequently dwelt on the scathing setdown, the fitting revenge she would bestow upon Deborah Bowden one day. Under different circumstan
ces, today would have provided a perfect opportunity, but secure in the knowledge that Dominic loved her, she didn't fear Deborah any longer or feel the need for taking vengeance. As she stood there at the entrance to Deborah's ridiculous little love bower, Melissa was conscious of a stab of pity for the other woman, not unmixed with contempt at her unscrupulous methods of obtaining male company, especially the company of a married male.
Abruptly it occurred to Melissa that she no longer had any reason to confront Deborah. Dominic loved her; Deborah had long ago thrown away whatever chance she might have possessed to gain his affection. Suddenly yearning to have her husband's arms about her and feeling just a trifle foolish at her melodramatic ideas of extracting revenge, Melissa cautiously started to edge away.
Whether her foot scraped on the rough wooden planking or if it was the movement 'of her body that caught Deborah's attention, Melissa didn't know, but unexpectedly Deborah turned her head and was staring straight at her. Wishing intensely that she were anywhere but right here, Melissa could feel an embarrassed flush burning up over her face as she stared helplessly back at Deborah.
The effect upon Deborah, however, at the utterly startling sight of Dominic's wife standing at the opening of the gazebo was quite dramatic. She paled; she shrieked and gave such a violent jerk of surprise that the brandy went flying all over her as she promptly fell off the chaise. Lying on the floor in an inelegant heap, she stared with alarm at the tall, commanding figure in the doorway, her gaze fastening with horrified fascination on the menacing leather quirt held in Melissa's hand.
A guilty conscience is a most peculiar thing, and instead of realizing that Melissa was at least as mortified as she was, Deborah could see only a tawny-haired, vengeanceseeking Amazon come to horsewhip her through the countryside. All her sins flashed before her; every time that she had clung to Dominic, every incident when she had tried to seduce him away from his wife, passed clearly and vividly through her brain, and Deborah was frantic to avoid the just punishment she was convinced Melissa had come to wreak upon her.
Midnight Masqerade Page 46
