A Devilish Slumber

by Shereen Vedam

  She could heal! The concept straightened her spine. This meant she would not succumb to this brutal murderess as poor Helen had. If someone slashed at Rose’s throat, if she kept panic in check and acted swiftly, she might be able to stem the blood spurt and repair herself.

  Ever since she had begun this investigation, fear that she would die like Helen had been lurking beneath her façade of bravery. Now, there was a chance she would not end up a helpless victim. She had people who wanted to protect her. Two new suspects to scrutinize—that jasmine scent surely pointed at either Mrs. Rochester or Miss Warwick, as likely villains. One of them had been wearing that scent in the carriage, though it had been hard to tell which one. And now Rose had a means of recovering if she was hurt.

  Coming to this ball tonight, even if she had done it for all the wrong reasons, had garnered her a fistful of prizes. Not the least of which had been that extraordinary waltz with Phillip. She scrambled to her feet, ready to go find him. She would have whooped for joy, but a wave of exhaustion overwhelmed her the moment she stood, making her lean against the wall.

  Her head might be singing a happy tune, but the rest of her sagged. Still, Phillip’s purposeful strides had her standing up straight.

  Candlelight showed his face creased with concern. He extended his hand. Apparently, he had not believed her when she said she would be all right this time.

  She curled her fingers around his warm ones. The touch sent a spark racing along her arm and made her grip him tighter. He returned that clasp and gave her an inquiring glance.

  “I am glad you are back,” she said.

  He smiled in approval.

  Lifting her skirts, she climbed the stairs with him to the second floor. Halfway up, her head began to swim.

  He switched his grip to her waist.

  She swallowed her gasp. He might touch her intimately with ease, but his warm hold was akin to a lightning strike. Her entire body quivered in anticipation of more such encounters, just as it had when he had pulled her close for their waltz. At this rate, his seduction plans would succeed far too well. And where would that leave her? A mistress in society’s eyes.

  It gave her self-styled moniker of Sleeping Beauty a whole new dimension. She choked back a hysterical laugh.

  “Rose,” he said, gazing at her in worry, “shall I carry you the rest of the way?”

  “I am fine, Phillip. Just a little tired. I shall sleep soundly tonight.”

  “You were injured in the head. In battle, physicians encourage patients to stay awake in such cases.”

  If he kept touching her like this, sleep would be the least of her troubles.

  They continued on to the first floor where they passed three doors before Phillip called a halt. “Mother keeps this room ready at all times for guests.”

  Inside, a large tapestry depicting a barely clothed Greek goddess was hung on one high wall. Before it was a four-poster bed with richly embroidered curtains. What type of guests did Mrs. Jones routinely entertain?

  She stepped away from Phillip to finger the bed’s velvety curtains and the sheer silky material hanging behind them. “Your mother has expensive tastes.”

  “This room is for visiting dignitaries.”

  “Then let us choose another.”

  “Do you dislike this one?”

  “Sleeping in here, I would feel like a princess.”

  “Then here you shall stay. Give me a moment to light a fire and you will be regally warm as well.”

  “Are you sure no one will discover me here, Phillip?”

  “A couple of servants come by once a month to ensure all remains tidy. They are not due for another two days. You will remain safe and unnoticed.”

  “And after that?”

  “We will worry about that in the morning.”

  She dropped her cloak on a stool. While he worked at stoking the hearth, she climbed the two low wooden steps up to the bed and sat on the down-filled mattress. She bounced once, fell back, and then straightened in a hurry.

  By the hearth, Phillip had managed to encourage the coals to light, and soon, golden shadows accented the already lavish colors. She might as well have been in a castle in the highlands awaiting her knightly husband to take her to bed.

  The glint in his eyes as he approached said he read her thoughts.

  Her cheeks warmed and she clambered off the bed. “I was testing its durability.”

  “Shall we test it together?” His voice had gone deep and her stomach fluttered.

  “What I said in the carriage, about not wishing to go home . . . I hope you did not make any assumptions.”

  He laid a sooty finger across her lips. “You meant you were afraid of being left alone in your home.”

  She wanted to kiss his finger, ashes and all. Instead, she wisely stepped back. “It has been a most upsetting evening. Except for . . .”

  “For what?” He tone gentled as he took out his handkerchief and wiped her mouth.

  Her lips trembled at the brush of that violet-scented cloth. Her throat closed, making speech difficult. “The dance. Our waltz was magnificent.”

  “I agree,” he said as he cleaned his fingers with the same handkerchief, all the while maintaining eye contact. “You danced enchantingly, Rose.”

  “Even when I trod on your toes? You are both a gallant knight, sir, and an excellent teacher.”

  He bowed. “Why, thank you, Rose. A generous compliment. The evening would have been completely delightful if it had not ended so violently.”

  She shivered, remembering the thud as the footman fell at her side, her first warning of danger.

  “I will fetch warm water to tend to your head wound,” he said. “Would you like a glass of brandy for later?”

  “No, thank you.” She would not need any assistance to sleep tonight. When she had fallen back on the bed, her eyes had almost closed, allowing her to sink into oblivion. She hugged herself as he walked out the door. The vast room was lonely without him. Once his footsteps receded, she walked over to the window and looked out.

  Could Daniel have followed her here? The window overlooked the main street where all appeared dark and still. If he was there, in the shadows, he remained well hidden. Knowing he must be nearby reduced her nervous tension.

  She and Phillip were unlikely to be disturbed as long as Daniel kept watch. Though he had not been much help at the Lockharts. But then, who could have guessed she would be attacked so blatantly in the entryway? Pieces of her experience were coming back, and the one certainty she had was that it had not been just one person who attacked her, but two. Whoever these villains were, they were daring.

  Phillip returned and bade her sit on a settee by the fire. She held the basin while he gently probed her head. “There is plenty of blood but I cannot find a gash.”

  “I heal quickly,” she said.

  “It must still feel tender.”

  “Better than before.” His probing touch elicited tingles of delight. After he had cleaned her hair and ear, he threw the soiled water out the window, then cleaned and refreshed the bowl before proceeding to wash her face.

  Rose relished each stroke of the cloth’s rough movement across her cheeks and eyelids. His tender caring left her feeling both treasured and excited.

  He disposed of the soiled water and returned to sit beside her. He took her hands. “Rose, what happened after I left you in the butler’s care?”

  She told him of how she had awakened, half-groggy to find herself held down by a man. A woman had ordered him to carry her through the French doors. “Phillip, I recognized her scent. It was in the carriage when I travelled with Mrs. Rochester and Miss Warwick. I am certain that one of them was involved in this attempt.”

  “It could not be Miss Warwick. That leaves Mrs. Rochester. I will check
on her background.”

  “Why not Miss Warwick?” she asked, piqued. Because he planned to marry her?

  “She is a harmless twit.”

  Rose shut her mouth to keep from arguing. He seemed surer of Miss Warwick’s innocence than he had been of hers. “Do you, at least, believe me now that I am not responsible for Helen’s death? Phillip, she was my friend.”

  “Shhh, love, I believe you.” He kissed her forehead. “I am sorry I ever doubted you. Tell me about Mrs. Beaumont. How did she manage to befriend you after you had cut yourself off from society?”

  “We met at a market. I was with Hannah to purchase fish for our supper.”

  “Shopping is servant’s work, Rose. Why did you discharge all of your staff?”

  “After my grandmother died, I found the presence of others disquieting. I wanted to be left alone. But the servants were worried about me, and so were always pestering me to eat this, wear something warm, and they allowed people into the house after I expressly forbade all callers.”

  “Most employers would treasure such loyalty.”

  “Everyone I loved had either died or left me, Phillip. So I decided to say goodbye all at once, to everyone. All but Hannah, who refused to leave.”

  “I am beginning to like her,” Phillip said.

  “I thought she annoyed you.”

  “She took care of you. That puts her high on my ‘good’ list.”

  “She is stubborn. The day I tried to dismiss her, she sat on my doorstep and knocked all day and night. By the time I relented, her knuckles were bleeding. I had no choice but to tend her.”

  “I like her more every moment. If only I had shown such perseverance.”

  “It would have made no difference.” She touched his cheek. “I did not grasp then what I had asked of you.”

  “What has changed? Is it that I admitted to my regret for relentlessly pursuing your sister?”

  “Partly. I also understand myself better.” She had learned that she wanted this man, though it was a treacherous path to follow. Yet, if he asked to kiss her now, she would answer a fervent, Yes, and to damnation with propriety. She stood and, walking over to the fire, held out her trembling fingers toward the heat. “I would like to rest now.”

  “You seem well enough to sleep. Good night, Rose.”

  She swung around, miffed that he would leave without protest. Had he given up on seducing her? “Where do you go?”

  Already by the door, he turned with that familiar mischievous twist of his lips that set her heart hammering wildly. “My room is across the hall and two doors to the right. However, I must leave on a short errand first.”

  “You plan to leave me here alone?”

  “I go to ensure no harm has come to that lad I told you about. Ben is young, and although he will deny it, he could use some looking after.”

  Oh, no! What if Phillip came across the murderess and her accomplice? While he tried to save a nonexistent Ben, she could lose him. And it would be all her fault this time. “This Ben of yours would surely not still be at the Lockharts?”

  “I could not rest thinking he is lying hurt in the bushes.”

  Each word sent panic scurrying up her spine. “With people milling about, if he were there, someone would have found him. And I am uncomfortable remaining in this strange house by myself, Phillip.”

  He came back and pressed her hands against his warm chest. “Do not be concerned, Rose. No one knows you are here.”

  She ran a palm across his shirt, relishing the thud-thud of his heartbeat. It was a reassuring sound, one she wanted to hold onto tonight. The last thing she wished was for him to put himself in danger while looking for a nonexistent Ben Turner. She pressed herself closer until her chest grazed his, and his steady heartbeat began to thump erratically. He swallowed, and his Adam’s apple moved along his strong throat. Phillip’s pupils widened, suggesting she had a dangerous but effective method of distraction.

  “What if someone followed us?” She skimmed his chin with her forefinger. It was rough and darker than earlier. She reached up and kissed his jaw line, savoring the feel of his abrasive skin against her soft lips. “Phillip, your beard is growing.”

  She lazily slid her fingertips down to the base of his throat where his pulse hammered wildly.

  “Rose.” Phillip captured both her hands and nudged her back. “Do you realize what you are doing? We are alone. At night.” He released her and gestured at the gilded room. “In a decadent bedchamber with no one to act as your chaperone.”

  Rose tilted her head and studied this contrary man. “Do you do not care for my touch?”

  “I care too much,” he said in a tight, strained voice. “If you are afraid, lock the door. Even if you are not, lock the door. I shall not be long.”

  “And if I am murdered while you are away, pray do not hold yourself accountable.”

  He heaved a sigh, shoulders dropping. “What do you wish?”

  “Stay, if not in this room, at least nearby.” She took his warm hands in her cold ones. “Your friend is likely home safe and not the least bit concerned about your whereabouts.”

  “You do not know Ben. He would not have left without my permission. He is as honorable as you, Rose. Did you know that he did not approve of my plans for you tonight?”

  All innocence, she moistened her dry lips. “What plans?”

  His smile returned to twist his mouth, and she wanted to kiss him there. She inched closer and inhaled his violet scent until it infused her senses and made her giddy. How perilous could one kiss be? How deadly if he failed to succumb to her seduction?

  “I have to go,” he said, sounding desperate.

  “I am afraid, Phillip. Please stay with me.”

  “This talk of being afraid is nonsense, Rose. What game do you play?” Suddenly, with the flat of his hand at her back, he tugged her closer until her chest pressed flat against his and their legs collided. “If you must know, my plans included this.”

  The moment their lips met, all her concerns about Phillip leaving her vanished. She gasped and he plunged deeper, taking his pleasure, and claiming her as his. She responded by reciprocating in kind and then ran her hands down his back, daring to probe even lower.

  He trailed his kisses along the curve of her neck, nipping at her delicate skin. “You taste of lavender and honey.”

  She tingled at every spot where he caressed her. For three years, she had dreamed of him touching her like this and saying such loving words. Every night, she had closed her eyes and imagined him crawling into bed at her side. Yet, like a nightmare, at each daybreak she awoke alone and shivering. She did not want to wake up by herself tomorrow. “Phillip.”

  His teeth tugged at her delicate ear lobe, starting a deep shiver in her that swept down to curl her toes in spasms of pleasure. “What, Rose?”

  “Make love to me.”

  Phillip drew back, chuckling.

  Did he not hunger for her as she craved him? Was this a game, as he had proclaimed to Ben? Seduce her, gain her trust and close his case? She wanted more. Needed more. She would settle for nothing less than his complete surrender.

  Rose’s worried glance seemed to dampen some of Phillip’s ill-timed humor.

  “Lady Roselyn, am I not performing to your satisfaction?” he asked in a tender tone, his gaze lazily drifting from her well-kissed, throbbing lips down to her heaving bosom fighting the confines of her suddenly too-tight gown.

  “I have never been so intimate with a man, sir,” she said, hoping to convince him that she did not take this matter lightly. “So I do not know if you are doing this correctly.” She trailed her hand across his hard chest. Beneath his shirt, his muscles contracted, trembling everywhere her fingers skimmed, and she delighted in her power over him. However calm he might pretend to be,
he was as affected as she was. His body’s reactions gave him away.

  “I have no objections to your technique thus far,” Rose added, growing braver. “But I surmise there is more to a man and woman being intimate than merely kissing and touching. Elsewise, it would not be such a taboo subject.”

  “My, my,” he whispered, as if pleased by the turn of their conversation. “Do you really mean what you propose, Rose?” As if to test her resolve, he tugged loose the strings binding her Cleopatra gown, the backs of his knuckles grazing her bare flesh and making her insides quiver with longing. “What would your grandmother say if she heard you? Did she not teach you to guard your virtue with your life?”

  “She taught me many things,” she said between gasps, not fighting his attempts to disrobe her. “But not about men. She probably assumed you would ask me to marry you and that would take care of the matter.”

  “Wise woman.”

  Her gown slid to the floor to pool about her feet. She stepped out of it and tossed her shoes, using the movement to step closer.

  He circled his hand from the back of her neck to the front and then lower, to the cleft at her bosom. “Where is that hideous necklace you love to wear?”

  At his mention of the Cimaruta, she regretted leaving it in Hannah’s care. If only she had found a way to keep it with her, then she might have been able to recognize which of her two female companions was the shifter who later attacked her. It was a careless mistake that almost cost Rose her life. A life in which she and Phillip had spent more time apart than together.

  That state of affairs must end tonight, she vowed. “It would not fit beneath the costume’s neckpiece.”

  She glanced at where his finger was relentlessly invading the barrier of her shift and applying the lightest of pressures to lower the garment past all semblance of modesty. Her shift’s valiant attempt to protect her virtue gave way and Phillip triumphantly claimed his prize.

  Aching at his playful mastery of her body, she caught his gaze and for a blessed respite, his tormenting fingers stilled their teasing. Maintaining eye contact, he asked with great concern, “Rose, there can be no retreating once you lose your innocence. You will be tied to me for life. Are you sure you wish me to continue?”