Lords of Retribution (Lords of Avalon series)

by Richards, K. R.

  Upon entering the house, they learned Menadue had been attacked the previous night. Newt was carried upstairs to a room in the family wing near Elowen’s chamber. The doctor was summoned. Elowen and Sophia began to tend to their patient. The duchess assisted them.

  Jack sought out Tuesday. He nearly collided with her as he entered the parlour the ladies used. The alterations on Lady Fitzlewis’ mourning gowns must have been completed, for his lady was in a mourning gown.

  He reached out to steady her. He grinned down at her and whispered. “I was looking for you, Trouble.” He led her from the room.

  “Did you miss me, Jack?” Tuesday grinned up at him.

  He took her hand and pulled her along behind him. He took her upstairs. Making certain there was no one in the corridor, he pulled her into her chamber.

  “I missed you terribly, sweeting,” Jack whispered huskily before he claimed her lips in a demanding, passionate kiss. She matched his demand and his passion. The blood thundered in his veins among other places. He doubted he would ever understand what it was about Tuesday Inwood that made him lose all control. He just had to think of her and he was as hard as a rock.

  “I missed you too, Jack. I couldn’t sleep at all without you,” Tuesday whispered against his ear as she pressed close to him.

  “Nor could I, Tuesday.”

  He had only meant to steal a kiss, but when his lady opened the fall of his trousers, he knew he was done for. His hands cupped her firm round buttocks as he lifted her up. “Wrap your legs around me. You’re not wearing drawers are you?”

  Looking down into his amber eyes Tuesday shook her head. A mischievous smile played at the corners of her mouth. “No, I am not. I knew you would be returning home today, Jack.”

  He grinned at her, “That’s my Trouble. Always thinking ahead.” He removed the fine crepe fabric of her black skirts tucked in between them and carefully moved his hands one at the time so he was cupping her bare buttocks.

  “Hold on tight, I’m moving us across the room to the outside wall.”

  Making love to Tuesday was always exciting, always new and different. Once they finally made it to her bed at night, they stayed there. However, getting to the bed was often delayed while their sexual creativity was put into fine use. Not only was Tuesday an adventurer out of the bedroom, but he found her especially daring in the bedroom. She delighted in pleasing him as much as he delighted in pleasing her. She was also demanding and vocal about her pleasure, which was something he absolutely adored about her.

  He leaned her against the wall and kept a steady grip on her buttocks as he thrust into her. He groaned as he embedded himself deep into her warmth. Her legs tightened around him and her fingernails dug into his shoulders as he plunged into her deeply and lingered, pressing her down, fusing them completely.

  He began to move again with sure, swift strokes. Tuesday could feel the tightness knotting in her abdomen. She knew her release would come soon. She gazed into his dark amber eyes and saw something new. Something tender, yet at the same time so brilliant that it mesmerized her. Tuesday already knew she had fallen in love with Jack. She knew he adored her and found her different from any other woman he had associated with, but he had never spoken the words she longed to hear from him. She hoped he shared her feelings. Her hand moved to his cheek. She reveled in the feel of the rough stubble beneath her palm as she caressed him.

  Her eyes focused on his sensuous lips. That mischievous, cocky grin lightened his features. He seemed to know her every thought, anticipate her every move. She ran her tongue along his lips. When he opened to her, she pulled back.

  “Tease,” Jack’s whisper was thick with huskiness.

  She leaned closer again, ran her tongue over his lips and pulled back yet again.

  He removed one hand from her buttocks, slid it behind her nape and brought her lips to meet his. His mouth claimed hers hungrily, demanding her response while he pinned her against the wall, increasing his thrusts. He brought her to her release. He swallowed the cry she emitted as she went over the edge. His tongue mimicked his thrusts as he prolonged their kiss. Feeling her muscles tightening and throbbing about him sent him flying over the precipice and he exploded, groaning as he still moved inside her afterward.

  Jack tenderly kissed her temple, her eyes, her cheek and her lips once again. He eased her back down to her feet.

  They assisted one another in making themselves presentable. Jack slipped them out of her room. Hand in hand, they returned downstairs, their faces flushed and both of them wearing wide, satisfied grins.

  The members of the Avalon Society and their ladies were ensconced in the large, recently repaired drawing room, which now served as their meeting place since the attack on the library.

  Harry frowned when Tristan led his sister Caroline into the room.

  “Harry, you must accept that Caroline will marry Tristan. They are in love, it’s quite obvious. You must prepare yourself to receive his offer for her soon. You gave him permission to court her, after all,” Rowena said in a whisper as her light blue eyes met his dark brown gaze.

  Harry exhaled heavily. “I suppose you are right, my love.”

  “Of course, I am right, my darling husband.” Rowena cocked her head and gave him an assured smile.

  Harry smiled. His frightened, wounded Angel had broken from her shell and come into her own in a few short months. Now she was a force to be reckoned with. Most often, she was a force he had to reckon with, yet he loved, cherished and adored her with all his heart. Even the more forceful Rowena appealed to him. She definitely kept him on his toes. And well sated. Rowena had claimed his heart, his body, mind and soul. She carried their babe. He guessed he must be the happiest man alive.

  “Well, at least when Tristan and Caroline marry, my wife shall have no reason to make matches. Perhaps she can concentrate her full attention upon her husband.” He grinned. It always ruffled Rowena’s feathers when he mentioned her tendency toward matchmaking.

  “Humph.” Rowena rolled her eyes. “You know, Harry, your brother George seems to have developed a tendre for Trevan’s sister, Lady Tamsin. Look there.” Rowena inclined her head toward the pair.

  George was nearly a carbon copy of his older brother. George’s hair was a shade lighter than Harry’s was and he wasn’t quite as tall or muscular as his brother. Lady Tamsin had dark brown curly hair, the trademark Chynoweth brilliant blue eyes, and was tall with a good figure. The pair was talking and gazing into one another’s eyes. Rowena thought it a fine match.

  “They have been speaking to one another quite frequently. They make quite a handsome couple, don’t you think?” Rowena presented her husband with a perfectly innocent smile that would rival any angel’s.

  Harry’s brows knit together as he frowned at his younger brother. He looked down at his wife’s pleased expression. He fought to keep the corners of his mouth from turning up in amusement as he said, “My love, I thought I cautioned you against giving in to your proclivity for matchmaking. It is quite an annoying habit. You must allow George and Lady Tamsin to find their own way.”

  Harry snorted when her dainty elbow connected with his ribs. He grinned devilishly at his Angel. She cut her eyes and turned her attention to Lyon and Sophia who were approaching them. He reasoned he would enjoy needling her further tonight after they retired from company. He would enjoy many other things with her as well.

  “It seems you are destined to be tied to the Chynoweth family,” Lyon chuckled as he inclined his head toward George and Lady Tamsin. He brought his tiny, copper-haired wife, Sophia, up beside him.

  “It would seem so,” Harry remarked drily. He looked to Sophia. “How is Newt?”

  Sophia shook her head. “He is still unconscious. He seems to be breathing well. There is no fever. Elowen is still with him. I shall relieve her after we meet.”

  Harry nodded.

  Micah and Libby came to join them.

  “I understand you gentlemen made quite the fin
d in August’s study,” Harry said to Micah.

  Micah grinned. “If we can find this ancient stone that Christ carved on with his own hand, yes, it will be! Jack and I spoke to Gabriel earlier. He has no knowledge of the stone, but he reasoned it could be hidden in one of the gardens at Fairy Cross, most of them are ancient.”

  Jack led Tuesday up to the group just in time to hear his name. “Gabriel said as soon as it is safe we can search at Fairy Cross. After what happened here last evening and to us on our return to Menadue this morning, we can’t organize a group to search Fairy Cross at present,” Jack offered.

  Micah frowned. It was clear to all he was itching to find this stone.

  “You will just have to wait, Micah,” Libby smiled up at her husband.

  “Yes, sweetheart, I know,” Micah sighed heavily. Yet he offered his wife a loving smile and a wink.

  He then looked to Jack, “I was told the ladies took very good care of Lady Tuesday in your absence. Lady St. Erth provided a suitable gown for her to wear for your wedding tomorrow, and they supervised the alterations so she will make a lovely bride. They kept her very busy. Libby told me all about it. You worried for nothing Jack.”

  Tuesday smiled up at Jack. “You were worried about me?”

  He returned her smile. “A little.”

  “I was fine,” Tuesday was happy to know Jack had thought of her while he was away. It gave her hope.

  Jack saw something in those French blue eyes. Happiness? Joy? He guessed that perhaps the thought that he worried about her had pleased her.

  A year ago, something like that would have scared him back into bachelorhood. At the first sign any of his former female acquaintances became possessive or comfortable, he bolted, immediately ending the liaison.

  Not this time. Everything with Tuesday was so different. He reasoned he was looking forward to a lifetime of pleasing his soon to be wife. Why everything was so different with Tuesday, he couldn’t say. He just knew that it was. More surprisingly, he liked what was between them. He relished their intimacy, their comfortableness with each other. He enjoyed every second he spent with her.

  “Tuesday has been so excited about the wedding. Look at her. She’s positively glowing,” Rowena smiled.

  Jack saw Tuesday’s cheeks redden. The glow they both sported walking into the library was from their recent bout of lovemaking, of that he was certain. “Yes, my lady is glowing.” He grinned as Tuesday lifted a warning brow at him.

  Clearing his throat he continued, “The wedding is tomorrow. Tuesday’s parents should be arriving sometime this afternoon,” Jack gave Tuesday another devilish grin. He was eager for the ceremony to be behind them. Then Tuesday would be his, in every way. She’d have his name, be his Countess, be his lifetime companion, and they would begin to fill the nursery at Dartleigh Castle.

  “We felt confident you gentlemen would return before the wedding, but we worried about both of you as well,” Libby looked to Micah as she spoke, “Especially after last evening.”

  “We did worry,” Tuesday agreed. She smiled when Jack winked at her.

  Trevan and Wenna stood with Gabriel and Senny. Marrek and Catherine joined them.

  “Marrek, we were just explaining to the ladies that we shall have to increase security for the wedding tomorrow,” Trevan acknowledged his cousin’s approach.

  “Unfortunately ladies, it is necessary,” Marrek drew his wife up close beside him.

  “It’s good that the Chapel is just a few steps out the side door of Menadue,” Gabriel commented.

  “And the ladies shall be well guarded on their way to the chapel where their grooms will await them,” Marrek said. “I shall see to it.” He looked to Senny. “How are you feeling, Miss Senny?”

  “Much better, thank you, my Lord.” Senny smiled.

  “I would have liked her to stay abed another day, but Senny insisted she be able to come downstairs today,” Gabriel smiled down at her.

  “And I am doing perfectly well, as I told you I would,” Senny countered.

  Gabriel grinned. He winked at her. “You seem to be feeling well enough.”

  Trevan rubbed his hands together. “Well, let’s get started.” He called out in his deep, loud voice, “Please be seated, we have much to talk about.

  As everyone took their seats, Diggory, the tall, muscular butler of Menadue, wrestled a squirming young man into the room. He held him tightly by his neck.

  “What is this, Diggory?” Trevan asked with a serious expression.

  “I found one of your spies. I am sorry to inform you that Samuel Potts, the prisoner, is dead. He was poisoned. One of the kitchen girls saw Fenton lift the lid of the stew he carried down on the tray to give to the guards for Mr. Potts. She said he poured something from a small vial into it. She told Cook. Cook told me, and by the time I got there Mr. Potts had expired.”

  “Did young Fenton admit to poisoning Mr. Potts?” Trevan asked.

  “Ayce. After I persuaded him to,” Diggory said.

  Marrek shook his head in disbelief. He actually liked Samuel Potts. He leaned close to Catherine, “Excuse me. I must go see about Samuel.”

  He was about to rise from his chair. Catherine’s hand on his arm stopped him. He looked into her mesmerizing gray-green eyes.

  “I’m sorry, Marrek,” she whispered in concern.

  He covered her hand with his own and gave it a squeeze. “Thank you, Kitty. I’ll be back in a few minutes, my dearest.” He grazed her temple with his lips as he moved to rise from his chair.

  “What of his sisters?” Wyldhurst asked.

  “I sent a missive to Deveril Pendarves in London after we returned from Liskeard to gather his sisters along with his cousin and bring them here. I was sending them to Australia. His siblings still need protection from these men, and they will need their older cousin now. I will bring them to Cornwall. I shall set them up in one of the cottages at Penhallow now that Samuel is gone. I can’t leave them to fend for themselves, nor can I send three young ladies to Australia alone.”

  Marrek sighed and continued, “At least we have the letter written by the leader from Samuel’s lodgings. The penmanship is poor and not from the hand of a gentleman. I seriously doubt the leader wrote it himself. I do believe they were his instructions,” Marrek offered.

  Kitty smiled up at him. “Of course, we shall see to his sisters. I believe you said the girls are still quite young. They will need us. We will take care of them. We can hire a governess to stay with the younger ones at the cottage.”

  Had he not been in such large company he would have kissed his wife right at that moment. Full on the mouth, and kiss her deeply, lingeringly and thoroughly. As long as he had known Catherine, even when her own life was in danger by the hands of her own husband, she had been generous and kind to all those around her. He realized Kitty’s selflessness was one of many traits that attracted him to her. She was strong. She had never played the victim. She was always positive and looking forward. Never did she look back at what had been. She was filled with an innate goodness. She was compassionate and kind to others.

  “I’ll be back, my love,” he said softly near her ear.

  My love! Catherine looked up into his dark brown eyes. She smiled brightly up at him. He had never said such a thing to her. She nodded.

  He looked to Diggory and said, “Bring Fenton, the murderer, and follow me,” Marrek said to the tall, large, Butler.

  Diggory nodded and pushed the young lad forward.

  Marrek stopped and turned his attention toward Gabriel and Senny.

  “Miss Senny, didn’t Madingly tell you he had men, plural, here at Menadue?” Marrek asked.

  Senny nodded. “Yes, Lord St. Erth. He did,” Senny said. She felt Gabriel take her hand in his. He squeezed it. She looked into Gabriel’s crystalline eyes and gave her soon-to-be husband a smile.

  “Do you need help, cousin?” Trevan asked Marrek.

  “Just Creed will do.” Marrek said.

  Cree
d and Marrek were about the same height, both were well built and muscled, though Creed was a bit leaner. Where Marrek’s hair and eyes were as dark as the night, Creed was fair-haired with warm brown eyes.

  “Go up and get my favorite cane, Creed, and meet me in the cellar,” Marrek instructed.

  “I will be there in five minutes.” Creed offered.

  The only sound to be heard in the large room was of the men’s boot heels against the floor as they exited the room.

  “What is your name, lad? It is doubtful it is Fenton.” Marrek posed.

  “Richard Jones, sir. They call me Jonesy.”

  The lad was frightened. That much was evident. “Tell me the name of your accomplice or accomplices in this house,” Marrek said in a level tone.

  The young man panicked. His hazel eyes grew wider. “If I do that, I’ll end up like Potts. These men can accomplish anything. I’d be sure as dead. They knew Potts talked.”

  “I will kill you if you do not talk. I advise you to tell me what I want to know. If you do, I shall have you moved to a place they cannot reach you. However, you are a murderer.” Marrek pointed to the body of poor Samuel Potts who apparently suffered greatly and died in agony by the anguished expression frozen upon his pale face.

  “He ratted. ‘Tis pain of death, everyone who works for the Knights knows it.” Jonesy gained a smidgen of confidence.

  “It is also pain of death for killing someone I liked,” Marrek said lowly. “And I am right here in front of you. So, you will tell me the name of the others who assist you in this house, who you report to and anything else you know; or you shall end like Potts, by my hand.”

  Jonesy laughed nervously. “I can survive a good pummeling with yer fists, big though they are.”