by Candace Camp
“That sounds . . . promising.”
“I could ask Cook to make a basket lunch to take with us.”
“So it would be a long walk. Even better.”
“A long walk,” she agreed, her smile inviting. “Down to the old castle, perhaps.”
“I like the castle.” His eyes danced.
“You could show me the ruins. We could take a blanket and have our lunch.”
“Hmm. I admit it sounds like ample recompense for my suffering. There’s just one thing . . .”
“What’s that?”
He wrapped his hand around her wrist and whisked her up the hall into his study. Closing the door, he put his hands on her waist, pulling her against him. “I think that first a small sample of your offering would be in order.”
“I have no objection to that.” Laura smiled and linked her arms behind his neck.
“Make that a large sample,” he murmured, and his mouth came down to take hers.
James gathered her up in his arms. Laura clung to him, lost in his kiss. When at last he lifted his head, his face was slack, his eyes dark with desire. He pressed her body into his, his hands traveling slowly over her, and nuzzled her neck. “In fact . . .” He roamed back up the tender skin of her throat, his lips evoking bright shivers all through her. “I believe we might not go to the castle at all.”
He reached back and locked the door. Then, sweeping her up in his arms, he strode over to the rug in front of the fireplace and set her down. His fingers went to the buttons at the top of her dress. Laura’s eyes widened. “James! Here?” She glanced around. “Now?”
“Here. Now.”
She laughed and went to work on his waistcoat. They undressed each other, pausing to kiss or caress the flesh that they revealed bit by bit. It seemed wanton and daring to do this in the light of day—and thoroughly exciting. James kissed her until she trembled, his hands busy on her skin, seeking out all the most pleasurable spots. Laura had never before realized how many places on her body were so erotic.
She could not hold back a moan when his fingers slipped between her legs, exploring that most intimate spot. She leaned her head against his chest, her legs suddenly weak. “Oh, James . . . I . . .”
“Mm?” He was kissing his way across her collarbone. “You what?”
“I don’t know. You make me feel . . .” She shook her head, blushing. “I can’t describe it. Shivery.” She lifted her head, looking into his eyes. “I hardly feel like myself.”
His grin was slow and wicked. “You feel very much like yourself to me.” To emphasize his words, he curved his hand over the fleshy mounds of her buttocks. “And that, by the way, feels very, very nice.” He dropped a kiss on her shoulder as his hand returned to tease between her legs again.
As his fingers opened and stroked her, flooding her with desire, he trailed his mouth down to the curve of her breast. His tongue circled her nipple, making it harden even more. Everything in her ached for more. She wanted his mouth to take her nipple, to feel the warm, damp suction tugging at her. She wanted him inside her, filling her. But the long, slow building was a wonderful torment, enhanced by the fulfillment she now knew awaited at the end.
And when at last he closed his mouth over her nipple, the wave of intense pleasure that washed through her made it worth the wait. She stroked his arms and shoulders, running a hand up the back of his neck and sinking her fingers in his thick hair. She delighted in the heat that flared in him at her touch, the sharp inhale of his breath, the faint tremor in his skin.
James slipped a finger inside her, his thumb settling on the little nub of flesh, and Laura gasped at the new sensation. The heat and urgency inside her flared even higher. Her knees felt like melting wax; Laura thought she would have simply oozed down to the floor if it had not been for his arm around her waist. James raised his head, gazing down at her intently, as his fingers continued to work their magic.
Laura suspected she ought to feel embarrassed under his gaze, but she was too deeply caught up in her passion, too near that shattering explosion of bliss, to care. Her eyes fluttered closed as she felt it begin to take her, and then it rampaged through her. She shuddered, letting out a moan.
When she opened her eyes, she found James still watching her, his eyes glowing, an almost smug satisfaction mingling with raw hunger on his face. She looked at him a little wonderingly. “But, James . . . you haven’t—” Her eyes went down involuntarily to his still heavily engorged state. “Don’t you—”
“Oh, yes, I do.” His voice was husky. “Don’t worry. I’ll have mine. But I wanted to see your face as it took you.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “It was a beautiful sight.”
Laura felt herself blush and she turned her head, pressing her lips to his chest. His skin twitched beneath her lips and she felt his hand tighten on her waist. Emboldened, she traced his flat masculine nipple with her tongue, then took it in her mouth, pulling gently. He let out a low, choked noise, his skin flaring with heat beneath her lips.
She kissed her way across his chest, her hands roaming over him. She was eager to know him, to taste and touch him, to learn each hidden spot that gave him pleasure. There was something intensely gratifying about wresting each small noise or shiver or sigh from this normally implacable man.
A shudder rippled through James and he grasped her arms, pulling her down to the floor with him. His kiss plundered her mouth. Laura could feel the need in him, the almost palpable hunger, and she opened to him gladly.
He sank deep within her, filling her in the most satisfying way. He began to move in a timeless rhythm, each thrust fulfillment and enticement, the pleasure building with the longing until they mingled in an aching, wordless anticipation. At last he reached his peak, shuddering against her, and buried his face against her neck to muffle his hoarse cry.
Laura clung to him, feeling her own blissful answer to his ecstasy. And holding him like this, her arms locked around him and his as tightly clamped around her, was its own deep joy.
chapter 32
Laura lay curled against James’s side, her head on his shoulder. Everything was perfect, she thought, then hastily retreated from that thought with a shiver. Such a notion was probably tempting fate.
“Cold?” James murmured, and draped his jacket over Laura. He kissed the top of her head. “Though it seems a shame to cover up such beauty.”
“Flatterer.” Still, she smiled.
“Ah, but you know I am distressingly blunt, so you may take what I say for the truth.”
“Or at least the truth as you see it.” She rose on her elbow to gaze down at him.
“Which naturally makes it correct.” James grinned, his face the easiest and most relaxed she had ever seen it.
“Naturally.” Laura made a little face at him. “If true, then we would be a matching pair.”
“In bluntness or superior discernment?”
“Both, of course, though I was referring to beauty. You are a handsome man, you know.”
“I am?”
“Of course. Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed the looks women give you. You just want to hear me compliment you.”
“Feel free to do so.” James linked his hands behind his head, as if settling in for a story.
“Well . . . first there is this hair.” Laura ran her fingers lightly through his thick black locks. Sliding her forefinger down his forehead, she traced the line of one eyebrow. “And these brows.” She laid a gentle kiss upon the eyebrow in question. “These eyes.” Her finger curved down, coming to an end on the prominent bone beneath his eye. “These cheekbones.” She kissed that, as well. “And most of all . . . this perfect, perfect mouth.”
Her kiss lingered there before she sat up, smiling down at him. He gazed back at her, heat mingling with amusement in his eyes. “I see. You married me only for my looks.”
“Not entirely.” She tilted her head as if considering the matter. “I also have it on good authority that you are a man of some wealth
, with a gracious home, and a respectable, even honored, name.”
He began to laugh. “Touché. I should know better than to try to trade barbs with you.”
“Where you’re concerned, I have a good deal of ammunition.”
“You do, at that.” His eyes lit with mischief. “But you haven’t my skill in distracting you.”
Laura let out a little shriek as he lunged up, his fingers going to her ribs to tickle her. She giggled, twisting. “Stop that.”
“Very well.” His arms slid around her and pulled her to him, his lips meeting hers. After a long moment, he raised his head. “Now that might be the best way to deflect your arrows.”
Laura rested against him, listening to the heavy thump of his heart beneath her ear. She would have liked to linger, but she was certain that with a man like James, one needed the lightest of touches. With an inward sigh of regret, she pulled away. “I must go. I promised to help your mother with the invitations.”
“What invitations?”
“For the ball she’s planning. Don’t you remember?”
“Ah, yes. Thank God I recovered so she could host a party.”
“James! You shouldn’t be unkind about your mother. I saw how she felt when you were so ill. Tessa loves you. And you love her, admit it.”
“Of course.” He paused in the act of buttoning his shirt and glanced up. “Though I do hope you won’t let anyone know.”
“It will remain our secret.” Laura struggled to restore order to her hair, twisting to see her dim reflection in the glass door of a bookcase. “This would be much easier if you had a mirror in here.”
“Thoughtless of me.” James leaned against the wall, watching her. “Oddly, the occasion’s never arisen before.”
She tossed him a teasing glance over her shoulder. “You mean you aren’t accustomed to ravishing women in your study?”
“Ravishing! I like that.”
“So did I.” Laura flashed a grin and returned to fixing her hair.
Behind her she heard James draw in his breath sharply. Suddenly he was right behind her, his hands sliding around her waist, and even in this poor reflection, she could see the unmistakable light in his eyes. He nuzzled her neck. “You’d best have a care or you’ll find yourself having to dress and do your hair all over again.” He nipped lightly at her earlobe.
His hands slid across her waist and up to cover her breasts. Laura leaned back into him, closing her eyes, but then, with a sigh, she slipped out of his arms. “No. I’d best get to it. Addressing invitations with the others will offer a splendid opportunity to find out things.”
“What things?” He frowned. “Laura, I don’t want you poking about, trying to expose a murderer.”
“That’s a fine thing to say, when you and I have done the very same thing.”
“Yes, but it was both of us.”
“What difference does that make?” Laura pulled away to look at him indignantly. “Are you saying I’m not capable of learning something on my own?”
James laughed. “No, no, no, my dear, I’m not that foolish a man. But I don’t want you dealing with a murderer all by yourself.”
“First of all, I won’t be by myself.” Laura held up her fingers. “Half your family will be there.”
“That is scarcely reassuring,” James said drily.
“Second,” she went on, giving him a repressive look, “I’m not going to be obvious about it. And, third, surely the culprit realizes it would be suspicious to kill me after they’ve tried to poison you. Even you must be safe from another attempt, at least for a while.”
“Hopefully.” James smiled, reaching out and curling his fingers around hers to lift her hand up to his lips. “If I thought otherwise, I would have to take action. I wouldn’t have the luxury of waiting and searching for proof. Claude’s not stupid. I’m relying on that.”
“Besides, he would know he won’t get the full inheritance now that you are married. That would discourage him, as well.” Laura frowned. “James? Are you all right? You looked quite odd.”
“What? No, I’m fine.” He gave her a perfunctory smile. “Just thinking.”
Laura suspected there was more than he let on behind the look that had flickered across his face. It would be a pointless exercise, however, to try to pry any information out of him. She merely smiled and went up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. His eyes widened a little, and Laura was pleased to see that she had put him somewhat off balance with the impulsive gesture.
Laura started out the door, then stopped and turned, sending him a provocative glance over her shoulder. “I hope I haven’t disturbed your morning too much. Enjoy your account books.”
“Little likelihood of that,” James murmured as he strolled after her into the hallway and stood watching Laura walk away. He had felt an icy trickle down his spine at her words a moment earlier. He hadn’t really thought until now about the fact that Laura now stood between Claude and his inheritance. But, no, surely Claude would not go so far as to hurt Laura. It was one thing to despise James and wish him gone—no doubt Claude felt some justification there—but quite another to actually kill an innocent woman. Claude would not, could not do that.
It was foolish that his palms had started to sweat, idiotic to feel an urge to hurry after Laura and walk with her, as if someone were going to jump out at her with a knife. No one but Laura and his attorney knew the terms of his will; Claude would doubtless assume that James would leave Laura only a reasonable widow’s share, not the bulk of his fortune. Even if Claude suspected Laura would inherit a good deal, he would know that the title and the land would be his. That was what Claude wanted—his father’s title and Grace Hill, the de Vere estate that he so resented going to James.
The others would benefit little from Laura’s death—surely not enough that they would resort to murder. Still, it might be best if he made them all believe he was leaving Laura nothing upon his death. He could tell his mother that he had given Laura a sum of money of her own when they married. That much was true enough; the only lie would be saying that he therefore would not be leaving her an inheritance. Tessa could be counted on to gossip with everyone else.
James would keep a more careful eye on Laura. He could set Dem to guarding her whenever James himself was not with her. His chest eased. Laura would be safe. He’d make sure of it. His alarm was unwarranted, nothing more than another example of the bizarre emotional turmoil he’d experienced since his return from the edge of death.
No doubt it was a result of the illness; the poison had, after all, seemed to afflict his nerves and brain most. These ups and downs, these hammering needs and fervid hungers, would disappear, just as the peculiar dreams had. He would return to his usual calm.
And that was a good thing.
However exciting it was, however shatteringly sweet it had been to make love to Laura, it was not the sort of thing that happened more than once. Or twice, actually. Well, it wasn’t something that occurred on a regular basis. No matter how much he might want it to.
It was all . . . unsettling.
James had never felt this way before, as if he were not quite in command of himself—eager and edgy and hungry and yet somehow happy in that feeling. It was absurd. On the other hand, what did it matter if it didn’t last? He had almost lost everything—all joy, all beauty, all sorrow, all lust. He could have died without ever feeling as he did now, without tasting Laura’s kiss. Without knowing what it was like to sink into her softness, her heat, to feel her tight around him, her body soft and yielding beneath his, his own heart hammering till he thought it would burst out of his chest.
Laura turned the corner and was gone from his sight. He lingered in the corridor for a moment, lost in thought. A man’s voice pulled him roughly back to reality. “Beautiful woman, Lady de Vere. Easy to see why you married her.”
“Archie.” James turned to see his sister’s husband lounging against the newel post of the staircase, smirking.
James started b
ack into his study, but Archie continued to talk, strolling down the corridor toward him. “I’m surprised you don’t keep a more careful eye on her.”
James swiveled back around, his jaw clenched and a look in his eyes that would have silenced a more intelligent man than Archie Salstone. James knew he should simply walk away—giving Salstone any sort of attention was always a mistake—but he could not do it, not when it was about Laura.
“Beautiful women like that. Most men would be jealous. Funny thing is, I never took you for a trusting sort of man.”
“Have a care, Archie.” James’s voice was as quiet as his face was stony, but the threat in it was more lethal than if he had shouted. “You might remember that you are here only on Lady de Vere’s sufferance.”
“Oh, indeed. I am most grateful that your wife is such a . . . generous woman. And the extent to which she has softened your nature is a wonder to us all. Though one can scarcely believe that a man such as yourself would turn a blind eye to the way his wife runs over to Lydcombe Hall at every opportunity.”
Something hot and fierce speared up through James’s chest. It was a feeling James was unaccustomed to, but he recognized it. It was jealousy, corrosive as acid, hungry as wildfire. He shoved it down ruthlessly, but what he had felt must have shown on his face, for the other man smiled slyly even as he retreated a step.
“Where my wife goes and what she does is none of your business, Salstone.” James advanced on him. “And if I learn that you have been spreading rumors about her, you’ll find yourself in a far worse state than merely evicted from this house. I can make your life hell in so many ways your limited mind cannot even imagine it.”
Archie’s mouth twisted. “You’re a bloody tyrant. It’s no wonder someone tried to kill you.”
James grabbed the other man’s arm and shoved him back against the wall. “Was it you, Archie?”
“No. But I wouldn’t have shed any tears over it, I’ll tell you that.” He started to leave, but James planted his hand on his chest, holding him there.
“Who was it? How do you know about it if you weren’t involved?”
