“Love, that was incredible,” he murmured.
She managed to lift her lids to find his face close to hers. He grinned and kissed the tip of her nose.
“I couldn’t bear to wait,” he said.
Taylor giggled, she couldn’t help it. “I rather liked your impatience.”
Blake’s eyes darkened. He muttered something beneath his breath, and kissed her mouth. She wrapped her arms around his neck and returned the kiss to equal his. When he lifted his head at last, she placed her hand on his cheek. Satisfaction softened his features.
“You look quite pleased, Blake.”
His eyes were a deep blue now. “You please me, Taylor.”
She longed for this ease to remain on his face. Even as her mind formed the thought, he began to withdraw from her as surely as his body had left hers. He set her feet on the floor and covered her legs with her skirts. She wouldn’t watch as he once more became her husband of the daylight hours. Keeping her eyes downcast, she adjusted her bodice and sought to bring some order to her hair. That last bit of business was hopeless.
Blake stood and donned his jacket, then faced her. He held her close. For one heartbreaking moment she thought he’d at last say the words she longed to hear.
“I’ll see you at dinner,” he said.
Taylor took a steadying breath. She stepped back from him and lifted her chin. “Of course.”
He glanced toward the chair and she knew what he saw in his mind’s eye. Lord, would she ever be able to sit there and not remember the madness of this afternoon? With a nod toward her, he left the chamber. Taylor sank back down into the chair and for the first time in weeks gave in to the melancholy of loving a man who desired her body but not her heart.
* * *
Blake stood outside their door, regret and pride at war within him. The thought of Trevor Shelby taking Taylor had driven him to her, that was true. But her sweetness, her passion, had thrilled him. She’d accepted all of him without question, matched his passion with her own. And when he’d left her with little more than token gratitude, he couldn’t ignore the hurt in her eyes. She loved him, he now knew. He’d sensed as much in that last embrace and God help him he’d nearly spoken of it himself! What the devil would he do now?
Chapter 20
Taylor donned a gown for dinner, a pretty dress of silver-blue. Sally had once more dressed her hair, thankfully saying nothing of its dishevelment. The Hideaway was a public place, and Taylor knew that despite the privacy of their chamber all could guess what had happened after Blake kissed her in the entry and dragged her up the stairs. Shame had no place in her mind now; Blake was her husband and were she to lose the passion they shared she’d soon have nothing but tepid companionship. No. She’d give herself to him at his request, for her own pleasure as well, and to relish that bit of tenderness that lit his eyes for a moment following his release.
She stood before the cheval glass set in the corner and regarded her reflection. A baroness, the proprietress of a public house. How strange a development. She glimpsed a scrap of paper in the mirror, and turned to find what seemed to be a crumpled note beneath the upholstered chair. The maids kept the room well, she knew, though this might have escaped their notice. She retrieved the smudged missive and saw that it was addressed to Blake. With but a glance toward the closed door of the chamber, she unfolded the paper and read the meager contents. Her heart raced as she read the two words one more time.
The time on the clock showed her the early dinner hour was nearly upon her. Blake would soon join her, she reasoned. He might await her even now. She folded the note and left the chamber, bound for the dining room and an explanation from her taciturn husband.
* * *
Blake let out a breath as Taylor entered the dining room. The routine of their quiet, early dinners would suit his mood and mind this evening. She was a vision, that was certain. The blue dress that wrapped her figure showed and concealed bits of the most perfect body he had ever beheld. Worry furrowed her brow, though. She wouldn’t press him on matters of the heart. That didn’t drive her agitation. No, that stubborn streak so often glimpsed showed clearly this evening. This was about Robert.
Bracing himself for a confrontation, he signaled to Polly for a mug of ale and forced an impassive expression on his face as his wife joined him at their customary table.
“Hello, love.” He stood to hold her chair for her then sat himself. “You look beautiful.”
Taylor waved away his praise and thrust something at him. The note, he recognized. Damn it to hell.
“What does this mean?” she asked. “Why didn’t you show this to me?”
“Taylor, I didn’t want you to worry over your vile cousin.”
She blinked those long lashes in confusion, the paper rustling in her trembling fingers. “My cousin? What could Trevor have to do with Robert?”
Her simple question struck a chord within him. He took the note from her and scanned the two scrawled words on the page and now saw them as his wife had so astutely. He brought his gaze to her face. “My God, you may be right.”
“Where is he, Blake?” she asked. “Whoever sent this missive knows where my brother is.”
“You don’t know that, Taylor. I don’t know who sent this to me. Or that they’ve seen Robert.”
She clutched his hand, tears swimming in her eyes. “If there’s a chance he lives, Blake . . .” Her voice broke briefly. “You must find him!”
“Hush, love.” He stroked her hand. “I’ve never gone about a case with so little evidence. There’s still a chance that this letter refers to Trevor, not Robert.”
Alarm rounded her eyes. “Trevor? What could that worm have to do with this matter?”
There was nothing else for it. “Your dear cousin has been to Homerton,” he said.
Her mouth fell open in obvious shock. “No!”
Blake brought her hand to his lips. “I’m afraid so. But don’t worry. The fine people of this village would share nothing of my cases, despite his inquiries. And they would say nothing of you. The vicar assured me—”
“The vicar?” She withdrew her hand and brought it to her breast. “Oh, what does Mr. Gaines know of my troubles?”
“You have no troubles, Taylor,” he said. “Not where your cousin is concerned. In fact, we’re invited to dine at the vicarage tomorrow evening.”
“What if Trevor said something?” Her slight shoulders slumped and tears fell from her downcast eyes. “There is truly no place for me.”
Blake pounded his fist on the table, earning nothing from her save for a flinch of her shoulders.
“You are my wife,” he said. “Your place is with me!”
She raised her eyes and stared at him, hard. What she searched for, he didn’t know. But that light was there, that regard that warmed and frightened him both. He welcomed it at last.
“My place is with you?” she asked.
“Didn’t this afternoon show you that?” he asked in a softer tone.
Taylor’s gaze lost that beguiling light. “It proved you want me,” she whispered.
Blake spat out a curse. She looked around the dining room, and he saw at last that they weren’t alone. Polly brought his ale and he drank deeply of it. Taylor fell easily into her role as his quiet dinner companion and he followed her lead.
Long after his wife had gone up to their chamber, Blake sat at his desk. The damnable note unfolded before him, he rested his head in his hands. The ale had flowed more than in recent days, but his mind was still sharp. Taylor’s assumptions regarding the note had precipitated much thought on his part. It could well be a threat from Trevor Shelby; the man showed incredible gall to come into Homerton and ask after her, about his work. But what if the two scrawled words indeed alluded to Robert Shelby? Blake couldn’t take the chance that his friend was alive and he did nothing about it. A smile curved his lips. His wife wouldn’t stand for it.
Taylor. What the devil was he to do with her? He’d go to Londo
n, that was certain. Calling on several of his most knowledgeable contacts might lead him to the author of this last, cryptic note. But if Trevor came to Homerton once, he might dare to do so again. Blake didn’t dare leave Taylor unprotected.
He quickly penned a note to his brother. Surely Jason could keep an eye on his wife. He sealed the missive and set it aside for Billy’s attention in the morning. Taking up the scrawled note, he folded it carefully and placed it into the ever-growing file containing cursed little tangible information regarding Robert Shelby.
Plodding steps brought him up to the chamber he shared with Taylor. She was a tiny form in the big bed, the few candles illuminating her golden curls peeping from beneath the linens. He removed his jacket and waistcoat and untied his cravat. Settling into the chair—which had, that afternoon, been the scene of the most passionate interlude he’d ever experienced—he removed his boots.
“What have you decided?” Taylor asked.
He turned to find Taylor sitting in the bed, bright and alert despite the lateness of the hour. Well, hell. He crossed to her and sat beside her on the bed. “I’ll go to London, Taylor.”
She tossed a thick curl off her shoulder. “London?”
“It’s the place where I last saw your brother,” he said. “Perhaps I can trace that bloody note.”
She bit her lip, appearing both wistful and winsome. Knowing she possessed a quick mind, he could well guess the direction of her thoughts. Determination stamped on her face, she crossed her arms. “I’m coming with you.”
“No.”
“Blake, I can help.”
He stilled her with a finger pressed to her lips. “I know the danger involved, love, and I won’t expose you to it. I pray your brother is alive.” His heart nearly broke at the desperate hope in her eyes, and he offered her a crooked smile. “Think of Robert’s anger should he learn I put you in danger.”
She let out a breath and closed her eyes. “Oh, please find him.”
Blake nodded and took her into his arms. “I promise I’ll do my best.”
She buried her face against his neck, trembling as he stroked her hair. He held her close, his heart beating in rhythm with hers as they shared a soft kiss. He stretched out on the bed and she shifted beneath him, welcoming him with her arms and her body. Slowly he made love to her, his release so complete he nearly cried with it.
Taylor cuddled against him afterward, the tension at last gone from her body as she slipped into slumber. His sleep was more elusive, however. London and danger beckoned, his abandonment of Taylor a necessity. Never before had he been so reluctant to leave her. She was more dear to him than any other person in the world. He couldn’t deny the truth any longer. He finally recognized what his heart had known for weeks.
He loved her.
He dropped a kiss on her brow and closed his eyes, taking solace in the music of her even breathing as the night hours passed toward daylight.
* * *
“What have you learned?” Jason asked.
Blake turned from the window to find Jason in his office barely two days after sending for him. “Good afternoon, brother.”
He motioned for Jason to close the door and handed him the blasted note. Jason frowned as he glanced at it, shaking his head as he returned it to Blake.
“Taylor told me of the note,” Jason said.
“You’ve seen my wife, then?”
Jason nodded. “I saw her when I arrived an hour ago. She waylaid me in the dining room and plied me with tea and cinnamon rolls. She’s quite agitated, though she sought to hide it from me.”
Blake sat down behind the desk and let out a sigh of exasperation. “She believes I’ll simply go to London and find her brother. My God, doesn’t she realize I’ve been searching for him for the past two months?”
“Have you told her that?” Jason asked.
Blake was quiet for a moment. “Yes, but we, ah . . . We haven’t spoken much of Robert, despite her questions.”
Jason sat across from him, running his fingers over the sleeve of his blue jacket. Blake waited for the man to collect his thoughts with a lack of true anticipation. He could guess his brother’s unwelcome views on the subject, taken with the sardonic curl to his lips.
“Little wonder she’s so anxious, brother.” Jason eyed him closely. “You haven’t told her everything, I gather?”
Blake shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I don’t know what you’re—”
“Don’t be daft, man!” Jason snapped. “The girl seems adrift. She has no true place in Sussex. And none here save as your honor-bound wife.”
“She’s accepted here in Homerton,” Blake said. “Taylor belongs here with me. You told me as much weeks ago. Aren’t you pleased to see your prophecy fulfilled?”
Jason smiled as he shook his head. “Love, when it’s returned, is wonderful, Blake.”
Blake seized the opening. “Whom did you love, Jason?”
That pain crossed his brother’s face once more, as did a look of resignation. “I loved Weston’s wife.”
Blake shook his head as he sought recollection. But four years’ exile from polite society gave him little information of gentlemen and their holdings. “Who?”
“Philip Weston, heir to the Earl of Taunton,” Jason said. “I fell hard for his wife and made an ass of myself.”
“You?” Blake stared at him and couldn’t help but laugh. “You played the fool?”
“I saw—yearned for what he had—the passion, the affection—and I wanted it for myself. I couldn’t be content to find it with another woman, however.”
“She didn’t betray him,” Blake guessed.
It was Jason’s turn to laugh, though little mirth colored the sound. “She loves him and remains with him still.”
“Why do you go to Sussex?”
Jason attempted a shrug of nonchalance. “To visit our father.”
Blake scoffed at that. “You’ve never been solicitous of the earl, Jason.”
“I have my duties as the heir, Blake.” Jason smiled ruefully. “Playing the dutiful son keeps me out of the path of Lord and Lady Weston. She recently gave him an heir.”
Regret colored his brother’s words.
“You still love her then?” Blake asked.
Jason raked his fingers through his hair. “I wager I’ll always love her, fool that I am.” He flashed his rogue’s grin. “Pray, how fortunate for you that the woman you love returns the sentiment.”
Blake said nothing to that. With his feelings so tender and new, he couldn’t speak of them with his brother’s ease. He hadn’t shared them with his own wife, for God’s sake.
“I leave for London tomorrow.”
Jason followed his lead and sobered his expression. “Do you truly believe you’ll find Robert?”
Blake’s mind swam with the possibilities: one dead end after another, the horrible confirmation of his best friend’s demise, the triumphant return of Robert to his sister who loves him so very much. That last presumption was too vital to deny.
“I won’t fail this time.”
* * *
Taylor paced the hallway outside Blake’s office, eager to hear the gentlemen’s conversation. Jason had been solicitous today, inquiring after her health and happiness. His eyes, so like Blake’s, had gazed at her a bit too long, however. Could he see how miserable she truly was? No. She was certain she presented to all the picture of a dutiful, contented wife. Wasn’t she content at The Hideaway? A breath hitched in her throat. She loved Blake. That caused her enough distress without the added complication of Robert’s possible captivity. And Blake would find him, of that she had complete faith. But, how would Blake keep himself safe from whatever demons had claimed her brother?
She’d known for years that Robert was a willing partner in Blake’s work, though the particulars were never made clear to her. Her father assured her of Robert’s safety, asserting that little danger accompanied their frequent adventures. Fool that she was, she’d believed
her father. Had he known of the dangers inherent to their work? What had he thought when Robert disappeared? The terse letter describing her brother’s last day on God’s earth had told them precious little. Distraught over his loss, she and her father had questioned nothing about the statement that Robert was lost, that no body had been found in the Thames and he was presumed dead. Pain clutched at her heart as tears welled in her eyes.
“He’s alive,” she whispered. “Please God, let him be alive.”
“Taylor,” Blake said.
She whirled to find Blake and Jason crowding into the hallway. Both men eyed her with worry, her husband’s eyes holding a tenderness that before she’d only seen after he had loved her thoroughly in their bed.
“What have you decided?” she asked.
Jason offered her a bow and clapped Blake on the shoulder. “I’ll leave you to your beautiful wife, brother.”
Blake spared his brother a glance before turning that compelling gaze on her once more. “I’m leaving tomorrow.”
Taylor sucked in a breath and blinked away the tears that threatened resurgence. She managed a nod to his words. “Keep yourself safe.”
Blake reached for her hand. He led her into his office, shut the door and drew her to him. “I’ll be safe, love.” He pulled back and smiled brightly at her. “You can count on it.”
She heard the words but they rang hollow to her. Hadn’t Robert often spoken lightly of his work with Blake? Hadn’t he treated it all as a lark to pass a gentleman’s idle time? She said nothing of this to Blake, however. He’d kept the truth of his work from her for all of this time, since first she’d come to The Hideaway. Why should she believe his vague promises now? Her heart pounded a beat. Because she had to. The alternative was too awful to think about.
A Hero and A Gentleman Page 19
