Claire Thornton (22 page)

Her heart raced. Her world had shrunk until it was contained within the murmuring shadows of the sturdy four-
poster bed; yet at the same time she felt as if she were soaring in a lofty, star-filled sky.

She murmured incoherently. She was full of wonder at the glorious sensations which consumed her, yet she was hungry for even greater fulfilment.

She rolled slightly towards him, her fingers pressing convulsively into the muscles of his shoulders. She felt his hand move against her burning, excited flesh, curving around her side as he continued his upward exploration. The soft material of her nightgown seemed almost harsh when it brushed against her sensitised skin as Benoît pushed it aside.

She lifted her hips instinctively to make it easier for him, then caught her breath as his hand cupped her throbbing breast. She closed her eyes, surrendering entirely to the glorious sensations he was arousing within her.

His strong fingers teased her taut nipple gently, stimulating currents of desire which seemed to spring from deep within the centre of her body. She breathed in quick, erratic gasps, conscious only of Benoît.

He moved against her, gently nudging her legs apart with his knee. The pressure of anticipation within Angelica became almost unbearable in its intensity. She hesitated, a brief, last-minute nervousness tightening her muscles. She could sense the wild, fierce energy in his lean body, and it half frightened her, half exhilarated her.

‘Je t’aime,’
he murmured and waited, softly kissing the corner of her swollen mouth and stroking her breast almost soothingly.

She realised he was holding his desire in check with ruthless self-control and she was overcome with a rush of tenderness as well as love towards him.

She relaxed, no longer resisting him. He lifted himself until he was poised above her, his elbows braced on either side of her body. Her heart pounded with excitement. She was intimately conscious of the arousal in his lean, taut body. She wrapped her arms around him, delighting in the play of muscles in his strong back.

She felt a few moments of gentle questing, and then a sharp pain which almost made her cry out. She clung to Benoît, digging her fingers into his shoulders, turning her head briefly aside. He kissed her cheek softly, almost reassuringly. She sighed as an entirely new and seductive warmth began to radiate through her body, and turned her head to meet his kiss with eager, responsive lips.

Her whole world was filled with the feel, taste and scent of her husband. She was aware of nothing but her love for him, and the infinite joy and pleasure it gave her to be in his arms, completely united with him.

The tempo of his movements began to quicken. She was borne away on a rhythm of almost primal intensity. Golden fire pulsated through her body, exploding the shadows around them with glorious flashes of light. She seemed to hover breathtakingly on the edge of a precipice, gazing up at the bright stars in the dark void above, not knowing what lay beyond—and then the morning sun rose, enveloping her in swirling, glowing colours and warm, vivid, deep satisfaction.

It seemed a long time later when she sighed contentedly and stirred in Benoît’s arms.

‘Mon aimée?’
he murmured softly.

‘Mmm.’ She pulled herself up to press a kiss against his cheek.

Then she relaxed to lie half across him, her fingers laced together so that she could rest her chin on the backs of her hands as she looked at him. The first pale light of dawn was creeping in through the uncurtained window, and she could see him quite clearly.

His black hair was dishevelled, but his lean, hawklike face was more relaxed and contented than she had ever seen it. He was watching her quietly as he stroked her hair. There was a hint of humour, as well as a question in his brown eyes, but the wolf-wariness she was so used to was completely absent from his expression.

She smiled, luminous happiness and profound satisfaction glowing in her blue eyes.

‘So this is married life,’ she said musingly.

‘Does it meet with your approval,
ma chérie?
’ Benoît enquired softly, winding a lock of her hair around his finger.

Angelica hesitated, a teasing reply on her lips. Then her expression sobered as she realised her answer was more important to Benoît than his light-hearted manner made it seem.

‘Oh, yes,’ she replied, with heartfelt sincerity. ‘Yes, my love, you know it does.’

She drew herself up so that she could kiss his lips, her hair falling around them like a cascade of gold in the morning light.

‘And I thought you would be too tired after all your exertions of the past few days,’ said Benoît, a few minutes later. ‘That will teach me to underestimate you, won’t it?’

Angelica laughed and propped herself up on her elbow. Benoît blew at an errant tendril of golden hair which was tickling his nose.

‘I could never be too tired for you,’ she declared, a reprehensible twinkle in her eyes. ‘What are we going to do now?’

‘Within the next hour or so, or within the next few days?’ Benoît enquired, raising one black eyebrow humorously.

‘The next few days,’ Angelica clarified her question. She had a very good idea of what was likely to happen within the next few hours.

‘Go back to Sussex.’ Benoît caressed her shoulder absentmindedly, but he was looking past her, up into the shadows of the bed canopy.

‘To see Papa?’ Angelica asked.

‘Partly.’ He turned his head to meet her quiet eyes. ‘I must also see Adam and do something about that gang of smugglers which is causing Sir William so many problems.’

Cold ripples of fear crawled down Angelica’s spine at his words, but she remained completely still, determined not to let him sense her anxiety. She knew he would do whatever he believed he had to do. It wouldn’t help him if he also had to worry about her reaction to his plans.

‘How will you go about it?’ she asked, trying to sound matter-of-fact.

Benoît smiled lopsidedly.

‘No words of warning or disapproval?’ he asked quizzically.

‘It wouldn’t make any difference, would it?’ Angelica said breathlessly. ‘Besides, I tried so hard to persuade you to rescue Harry. I’m hardly in a position to complain now.’

‘But you are worried.’

‘I’m trying not to be,’ she assured him. ‘How could you tell?’

‘When you’re lying so close to me? It wasn’t difficult.’

‘Oh.’ Angelica lowered her eyes, biting her lip ruefully. ‘What are you going to do?’ she asked.

‘I’m not sure,’ he said slowly. ‘The role of poacher-turned-gamekeeper is new to me. It sticks in my throat a little to hand them over to be hung and gibbeted—killers though they are. We shall have to see.’

Then he turned his head and smiled at her.

‘I won’t come to any harm,’ he said confidently. ‘And think of all the adventures we’ll have when Harry is safely home and you sail with me.’

Angelica’s face lit up.

‘You’ll really take me with you?’ she exclaimed joyfully.

‘I’m not leaving you behind!’ said Benoît firmly. ‘I’m a very generous man. If I’m soaked to the skin in a torrential rain storm I shall expect my wife to be likewise cold and wet. No more living in idle luxury for you, my lady! You are go
ing to learn at first hand the tedium of being becalmed in mid-ocean, the inestimable frustration of—!’

He caught his breath and rolled away from her as Angelica moved her hand purposefully across his lean stomach.

She blinked in surprise at his emphatic response to her action. She had simply intended to distract him from his mock-solemn list of the discomforts awaiting her. But then she guessed the explanation for his reaction.

‘You’re ticklish!’ she exclaimed in delight, reaching towards him again.

‘It’s a base lie!’ He grabbed for her wrist, missed, then gasped, his body jackknifing, as she ran her fingers provocatively below his ribs.

‘No! It’s true!’ She started to laugh as he seized her hands and rolled her neatly onto her back. ‘Now what?’ She looked up at him challengingly as he held both her wrists in a firm grip.

‘I’m not sure.’ He grinned down at her, sunlight warm on his cheek. ‘We could call a truce.’

‘Oh, no!’ She shook her head gleefully, her hair spread out wantonly across the pillow. ‘After all the times you’ve made fun of me, all the times you’ve seemed so cool and sophisticated and in control—and all I had to do to get my own back…’

She tried to pull her arms out of his grasp, a wicked expression in her blue eyes. He resisted her attempt to escape without difficulty.

‘Don’t worry,
mon amour…
’ he transferred both her wrists into one hand, a hint of laughter in his voice ‘…you
have always had far more subtle methods of wreaking your revenge on me.’

‘So you’ve said before,’ Angelica murmured, as he bent towards her, his lips brushing hers. ‘But I’m sure none of them are quite so satisfying…’

‘Positive?’

‘Mmm.’

‘Angelica!’
The only reason Benoît didn’t leap completely out of bed was because he was too tangled in the bedclothes.

She laughed uninhibitedly, feeling deliriously happy and unbelievably lucky.

‘You’re not safe to be near,’ Benoît growled, keeping a wary distance, although there was an answering gleam of humour in his brown eyes. ‘Very well, my lady, two can play at that game.’

He dragged back the bedclothes in one swift gesture and it was Angelica’s turn to gasp. She reached out to pull down her nightgown, but he caught her hand.

‘It’s only getting in the way,’ he said softly, the laughter in his eyes replaced by a far more intense emotion. ‘Sit up.’

Angelica did so, feeling shy as she allowed him to draw it over her head and toss it away.

‘Ma belle,’
he murmured huskily, and kissed her shoulder.

‘I’m going to have to practise my French,’ she said unsteadily, as they sank back onto the bed.

She was truly naked in his arms now, and in the morning light there were no comforting shadows to hide them.
But she didn’t need to hide from Benoît. He was her husband and he loved her. Her brief moment of shyness passed.

‘I shall take pleasure in teaching you,
mon aiméee,
’ he replied lightly, and then stiffened as she laid her hand on his ribs.

‘Don’t you trust me?’ she whispered, meeting his eyes.

‘No!’ But he didn’t try to stop her as she slipped her hand delicately over his side towards the flat plane of his stomach.

‘I trusted you.’ Their eyes were locked together and a smile tugged at the corners of Angelica’s mouth as she continued her deliberate caress.

‘I know,’ Benoît half groaned.

She could feel the tension in his body as he exerted all his self-control not to jerk away from her hand.

‘It can’t be that bad,’ she teased him, exhilarated by the power he was allowing her to have over him. ‘I haven’t done anything to make you jump.’

‘It’s not what you’ve done—it’s what you might do!’ he retorted. ‘I didn’t expect my wife to startle me half out of bed on our wedding night.’

Angelica giggled.

‘And you don’t want me to do it again?’ she said provocatively.

‘I can think of more rewarding ways to pass our time,’ he replied softly.

Angelica hesitated. Her hand still rested gently beneath his ribs. She had no real intention of tormenting him, but she
couldn’t help relishing the fact that she had finally found a way of turning the tables on him.

He chuckled.

‘Make up your mind quickly,
mon ange,
’ he recommended. ‘We’ve a lot to do today. But before we begin…’

She moved her hand carefully around his body to his back and he exhaled with relief.

‘I thought we’d already begun,’ she murmured, her eyes gleaming wickedly as she rubbed his back in slow, sensuous circles.

‘My error,’ said Benoît hoarsely. ‘You’re quite right,
mon amour,
we have!’

June 1809

T
he tide was coming in. Lord Ellewood could hear it. He stood on the beach and listened to the waves rolling up the sand. He could hear the seabirds screeching overhead, and feel the hot June sun scorching his scarred cheek—but he could only imagine the glitter of sunlight on the sea.

The Earl had remained at the Manor House for more than three months, a difficult and uncomfortable guest for both Sir William and his household. He had shown no inclination to go back to London, yet he had refused point-blank to receive Angelica on the two occasions she had attempted to see him. The first time she had come with Benoît; the second time she had come alone. That had been more than two months ago.

The relentless passing of the lonely days gnawed at Lord Ellewood’s soul. He had hoped that Angelica would make
one more attempt to see him, but she had not—and he was too proud to go to her. The days passed, but time seemed to stand still. Until Benoît and Harry returned from France, life could not begin again for any of them.

Lord Ellewood lifted his head to taste the sea breeze. He didn’t know what he was doing on the beach; he only knew he had been driven by a deep, compelling need to come back to the sea. He had ordered a frightened servant to bring him—but he had forbidden the man to follow him down over the pebbles to the sands.

Now he stood by himself, a stiff-backed, solitary figure, braced against a gale which did not blow; and wondered bleakly if the waiting was as agonising for Angelica as it was for him—and if his son would ever return home.

He clenched his fists together in anger, frustration, and shame. He was bitterly ashamed of his behaviour over the past two years—but it was hard to bow his head and make amends. The harsh, discordant cries of the seagulls suited his mood. The hot summer sunshine on his cheek seemed incongruous. There was no harmony left in his life.

He heard boots crunching on the pebbles behind him and swung round furiously on the approaching servant. Dear God! Did he no longer have any authority even over a groom?

‘I told you to stay away from me,’ he snarled viciously. ‘I’ll summon you when I want you!’

‘You already did,’ came Benoît’s cool, soft voice. ‘Four months ago. Good afternoon, my lord.’

Lord Ellewood was shocked into silence: plunged back
sixteen years to the last time Benoît’s voice had come to him out of the darkness on these beaches.

The Earl had not been able to see his opponent then, and he could not do so now—but this time no dawn light would reveal Benoît’s features to him. It was the final, damning confirmation of all he had lost, and everything he would never be again.

He held his body rigid, tense with conflicting emotions, as he struggled to master himself.

‘Harry?’ he grated at last, his anxiety for his son finally overriding every other concern.

‘Is safely home,’ said Benoît calmly. ‘He’s a brave, resourceful lad. I’m sure he’d have managed without my help—but it didn’t hurt to expedite things a little.’

The knots of fear slowly eased from Lord Ellewood’s muscles and he sighed, his square shoulders slumping slightly in pure relief.

‘Where is he?’ he demanded. ‘Why hasn’t he come to me?’ A new spark of fear ignited within him. ‘Is he injured?’

‘No. He’s with Angelica,’ said Benoît equably.

Lord Ellewood’s expression darkened.

‘Have you turned my son against me—as well as my daughter?’ he asked acidly.

‘I’ve turned no one against you,’ Benoît replied coldly. ‘Certainly not Angelica. How many times do you intend to rebuff her before your pride is assuaged, my lord? Or have you indeed disowned her?’

‘Damn your—’

‘No!’
Benoît’s icy voice sliced across the first rumblings of Lord Ellewood’s anger like a knife. ‘Save your curses. They earn my contempt—not my respect. Did you lose your backbone as well as your eyes when the coach overturned?’

The scorn in Benoît’s tone, even more than his words, stabbed straight to the Earl’s heart, striking with the freezing, bitter intensity of a winter frost, completing the work Lord Ellewood’s self-disgust had already begun.

The Earl dragged in several painful, sobbing breaths. He no longer felt the hot summer sun blazing down on his body. He was lost in a black, barren world of his own. His darkest, innermost fear had been hurled in his face with uncompromising directness by a man he could not help but respect.

For two years he had been driven by rage; but now he had worn out his anger, and he had nothing left with which to replace it. For a moment he felt utterly desolate.

But Benoît’s words had had the force of a challenge. And Lord Ellewood suddenly realised that the cost of refusing to meet it was more than he was prepared to pay. He released his breath in a long sigh. His inner battle had left him empty and drained of emotion.

‘You must despise me,’ he said tonelessly.

‘No,’ said Benoît quietly. ‘I pray to God I will never be set the same challenge.’

‘Are you not the one who told me—on this very beach—that you’d rather try, and fail, than live knowing you’d never
had the courage to try at all?’ Lord Ellewood asked sharply. ‘No wonder I’ve earned your contempt.’

‘I was young and arrogant,’ said Benoît, a hint of apology in his tone. ‘I wouldn’t have the gall to repeat those words now. Will you walk with me?’

‘Do I have a choice?’ Lord Ellewood enquired, with a flicker of resigned humour. ‘The field is yours, sir. It’s time I attempted to preserve my dignity at least.’

He allowed Benoît to take his hand and tuck it through his arm, and they began to stroll along the tideline. They were much of a height and their strides were of similar length. The Earl found it surprisingly easy to keep pace with his companion.

‘I think you’ll find you’ve retained more than that,’ said Benoît quietly. ‘It wasn’t for your swordsmanship I respected you sixteen years ago.’

Lord Ellewood drew in a sharp breath.

‘Angelica must hate me,’ he said bleakly, with uncharacteristic openness. The events of the past few minutes had shaken him out of his usual reserve.

‘No. She never even came close to doing so,’ Benoît replied, without hesitation.

‘I thought she would come again, but she didn’t,’ said the Earl, following his own train of thought. ‘I thought she would come again…and next time I would have—’ He broke off. ‘Next time isn’t good enough in this uncertain world,’ he said bitterly. ‘I should know that by now—if you delay, next time may never come.’

‘It will come,’ said Benoît, with the quiet assurance Lord Ellewood remembered from sixteen years before.

They paced on in silence for a few moments, then the Earl roused himself from his introspection.

‘Harry’s safe, you say?’ he said gruffly, although he didn’t doubt Benoît had told him the truth.

‘Angelica says he’s thinner than he was, but otherwise he’s completely irrepressible,’ Benoît replied humorously.

‘But he didn’t come to find me,’ said Lord Ellewood flatly. He had been hurt by that omission. ‘Does he also despise me for what I’ve done? If I were in his shoes—’

‘I asked him to wait,’ Benoît interrupted equably. ‘I had an axe of my own to grind first, my lord. But have no doubt—Harry is as eager to see you as Angelica.’

They took several more steps in silence.

‘What do you want of me?’ the Earl asked discordantly.

He felt raw, and painfully exposed to the contempt he was sure Benoît felt towards him. It was a measure of his real courage that he had accepted the need to have this conversation at all.

‘I want nothing,’ said Benoît quietly. ‘Angelica would like to have her father back, I think.’

The Earl stopped walking abruptly. He turned his ravaged face towards the sea, away from Benoît.

‘I’ve re-employed Hargreaves,’ he said harshly, after a very long silence.

‘I know,’ said Benoît. ‘So does Angelica. She’s very happy.’

‘Stupid!’
Lord Ellewood exclaimed suddenly, referring
to the absent secretary. ‘He should
never
have let her out-manoeuvre him! But he never failed me before, and I can’t hold him entirely to blame. She’s as stubborn as a mule!’

‘It’s a family characteristic,’ said Benoît mildly. ‘Do you still blame Angelica for what
she
did?’

‘She disobeyed me!’ said Lord Ellewood gratingly.

‘You prize obedience above all other virtues?’ Benoît enquired softly.

‘
No!
Damn you!’ Lord Ellewood snapped. ‘But in my daughter…’

‘You left her with the impression that I was a disreputable smuggler,’ Benoît pointed out. ‘You must have known it wasn’t true. Angelica had no difficulty finding me, and I’ve only owned Holly House for the past three years! In the circumstances—knowing as little about me as she did—it was inevitable she would want to confirm my integrity. You’d have done exactly the same thing in her position.’

Lord Ellewood swallowed a hasty retort.

‘I didn’t want her to get foolishly romantic notions about you,’ he said grittily, almost as if he were speaking against his will. ‘A rich, handsome, adventurous shipowner—she’s been desperate to travel for years—and far more restless over the past few months.’ He grunted sardonically. ‘My petty-mindedness backfired on me, didn’t it?’

‘She was certainly very suspicious of me when she arrived,’ said Benoît reflectively. ‘Practically the first thing she asked me was whether the brandy I was offering her was smuggled.’

The Earl gave a crack of unexpected laughter.

‘She must have inherited her tact from me,’ he observed dryly.

He hesitated, then reached into his pocket and drew out two letters which he held out towards Benoît.

‘My lord?’

‘You recognise them, I’m sure,’ said the Earl ironically. ‘Your messenger delivered them to me on the day you were married. Poor fellow rode himself into the ground to get them to me. Take them.’

Benoît did so, noticing that the seals were still unbroken.

‘I couldn’t bring myself to ask William to read them to me, and there was no one else,’ said Lord Ellewood distantly. ‘I want to know what Angelica said.’

‘You could ask her.’

‘No! I want to hear what she wrote to me then,’ said the Earl harshly.

‘Very well,’ Benoît glanced shrewdly at Lord Ellewood, then broke the seal and quickly scanned the letter. He smiled faintly, and began to read aloud.

‘Determined to make it sound like an ordinary social call!’ the Earl interrupted scornfully. ‘As though that could make it any better.’

Benoît grinned and carried on reading.

‘Ha!’ the Earl exclaimed.

‘Hoist by my own petard,’ said Lord Ellewood fatalistically.

Benoît folded the letter and put it back into Lord Ellewood’s hand.

‘Thank you.’ The Earl weighed it for a few seconds in his fingers. ‘I would have been infuriated by her impertinence if I’d received this in London,’ he remarked.

‘I don’t think that was her intention,’ Benoît replied quietly.

‘No. I know.’ Lord Ellewood returned the letter to his pocket. ‘William hasn’t said anything about meeting her at Holly House before their encounter in Littlehampton,’ he said curiously.

‘They didn’t meet face to face,’ Benoît explained, smiling faintly. ‘She overheard Sir William accusing me of being a dastardly smuggler and a traitor to England into the bargain. That’s why she stayed in Sussex. She thought I might sell Harry back to the French. And why she followed me when I went to meet Adam.’

There was a further silence while Lord Ellewood absorbed that information.

He could hear the waves lapping gently on the sands beside them, and he could remember the glittering expanse of the beach that stretched out before them. There was a little less pain in that memory now than there had been.

‘No, that’s not why,’ he said at last. ‘I know my daughter better than that, and I believe I know you better than that.
She didn’t think you were a traitor. But it doesn’t matter now, she’s your wife.’

‘Yes, she is,’ said Benoît.

‘You’ll take better care of her than I can,’ said Lord Ellewood harshly.

‘I’ll take care of her,’ said Benoît quietly.

‘Where is she?’ Lord Ellewood demanded.

‘About a hundred yards away.’

‘What?’
The Earl was very shaken.

‘You don’t think she’d have let me come alone, do you?’ Benoît asked quizzically. ‘She and Harry both. We followed you from the Manor, but I wanted to talk to you first. They’ve been waiting with the horses.’

‘My God!’ Lord Ellewood drew in a deep, unsteady breath. ‘I didn’t expect that. Harry as well, you say? My God!’

‘They’ll come when I signal to them,’ said Benoît. ‘And I’ll do that when you give me the word.’

‘No more ambushes, hey?’ Lord Ellewood tried to inject a note of liveliness into his voice. ‘That seems to be my destiny on these beaches, doesn’t it? To walk in darkness and run blindly on my fate.’

‘Not necessarily,’ said Benoît calmly.