Come the Dawn (11 page)

“Putrefying contagion, too,” India added hopefully.

Helena Marchmont turned to glare at the servant bent before the fireplace. “If I didn’t know better, I would swear there was something familiar about that woman.”

“Impossible.” The earl’s voice was crisp with sarcasm. “Unless you’ve begun associating with a very different class of people, Helena.”

The widow’s angry answer was lost as she was swept outside. Her departure came none too soon, for India Delamere, hands covered with soot before the fireplace, found she was unable to contain her laughter a moment longer.

~ ~ ~

 “She did
what?”
Thorne turned from the narrow camp bed hidden off the cellar, his face thunderous. He had been on the verge of lying down for a few hours of much needed sleep when James Herrington had come in search of him via the secret passage.

“She routed Helena Marchmont, that’s what. And a more perfect battlefield maneuver I never saw.”

“Did the countess recognize her? If she did, the story will be all over London by sunrise.”

“There’s no chance of that, I think. Your lady did a laudable job of concealing her features beneath a mobcap and a layer of coal soot. A proper hag she looked.”

Devlyn frowned. “She’s not
my
lady.”

“No?”

“No!” Devlyn shook his head. “And if word gets out, she will be ruined.”

“I’ll leave it to you to tell her so, for I doubt I’m up to another encounter. Not after escaping Helena’s clutches.”

Thorne grinned. “Predatory, was she?”

“I could have sworn I was a rabbit and she was looking me over, measuring me for my pelt.”

“Oh, it wasn’t the size of your pelt she was interested in,” the earl said cynically.

Herrington laughed ruefully. “I daresay.” He looked down at Thorne’s mud-stained boots. “Been to Dover, have you?”

“Dover and half a dozen other places. Not a bit of luck in any of them, however. No one seems to know anything about this shadowy group called l’Aurore sworn to create a new ‘dawn’ with the return of Napoleon to power.”

“What will you do next? Nothing involving the children, I hope. They’re a plucky lot, and I’d hate to see them put in the way of harm.”

“I will see that they aren’t.” Thorne shrugged into his jacket. “Meanwhile, I suppose I shall have to teach that hellion upstairs a lesson.”

“You mean Alexis?” Herrington asked innocently.

“No, not Alexis.” Thorne’s jaw set in a hard line. The movement sent his small silver scar into bold relief. “I was speaking of India Delamere, of course.”

~ ~ ~

When Thorne strode into the study, his silver eyes were snapping and his mouth was taut. India was sitting on the wing chair, her face smudged with tears of laughter. She had managed to straighten some of the chaos of the room, but glass bits still sparkled from the carpet.

“You are a fool to be out of bed,” he said harshly. “Leave this and go upstairs.”

India’s face tilted back. “If I was a fool, my foolishness saved you from a most indelicate scene, my lord.” Her lips pursed. “Unless, of course, you were
enjoying
what Lady Marchmont had to offer. If so, I apologize for interrupting your seduction.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Thorne snapped. “I was glad of your intrusion, but not at the risk of your health. Nor at the cost of your reputation. Helena Marchmont would have the story all over London, if it didn’t leave her looking like a fool.”

“I think she
is
a fool. As for me, there is no need for any concern. Your physician did a fine job.” India touched her side thoughtfully. “I can almost forget the wound, except for a certain tugging when I move too quickly. See?” She pushed to her feet, as if to demonstrate. “And as for my reputation—”

But her sudden movement drew her skirt against the sharp irons at the edge of the fireplace. There they caught hard, linen to iron. India swayed, thrown off balance. In an instant Thorne’s arms were around her and she was folded against his chest.

His hands tightened as his silver eyes burned down into her face. “You were saying something about your
reputation,
my lady?”

Thornwood’s fingers slid slowly into India’s hair, driving the red-gold curls free of the old mob-cap. “You reckless fool.” The words were a hoarse whisper against her cheek. “Do you never think that you may fail at a thing?”

“Never,” India lied, feeling the thud of his heart against her chest and the heat of his skin. Dizzily, she raised her hand, desire shimmering through every corner of her body. “You may let me go now. I am quite recovered.”

He spoke so low, India might have imagined his response. “
You
may have, but it seems I have not.” And then Thorne’s lips were buried in her hair while a groan tore from his throat.

India stood entranced, unable to believe what she was hearing. Did some fraction of memory remain, deeply hidden? Excitement spurred the hammering of her heart as she slid her hand to his shoulder and allowed her head to fall back.

Devlyn pursued the advantage, kissing the naked, exposed curve of her throat.

“Dev?” she whispered.

“No, don’t say anything,” came the hoarse command. His lips hardened, possessive and demanding. His hands circled her hips and he pulled her intimately against him. India felt the unmistakable jut of his manhood against her soft thigh.

A sigh escaped her throat at the perfection of the contact, which had lived in her memory for so many painful months. Desire burst like a summer storm and without conscious thought she pressed closer, in search of more of his heat.

Devlyn’s fingers tightened on her hips. Cursing, he drew her against him and took hot possession.

India’s lips softened beneath his. She could not fight this intimate embrace so long dreamed of, even when his tongue drove into the silken recesses of her mouth.

With a ragged breath she kneaded his shoulders. Her own lips tightened, working against the hot length of his tongue. Her body was on fire now, tense with need, moist in secret places that demanded his touch. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. All she knew was Devlyn and this terrible, exquisite hunger for his touch.

Their bodies clung. India bit him gently, driven by a dark female instinct to claim him as he had claimed her. Dimly, she heard the rustle of linen. A cool wind drifted over her shoulders.

Her breasts tumbled free of the bodice of the old gown. She moaned softly, feeling his hands, warm and big and strong, close over the tight, aching crests.

And when he pulled her between his legs where the awesome rise of his manhood pressed boldly, India felt a shudder of need sweep through her.

Dimly she heard his harsh curse. Then his mouth covered her full breast. She murmured, mindless, wanting.

He teased her, a master at exacting the wildest pleasure. This was Dev, she told herself blindly, come back from the dead. His memory could
not
be gone. There was too much fury in his touch, too much mastery. Somewhere deep in his mind he
had
to hold some memory of the weeks they had spent together.

Without conscious thought, India slid lower, searching restlessly. Her breath caught when she found him, huge and hard and thrusting beneath her fingers.

A moment later she was caught up in his arms while he pounded up the stairs to his bedroom. He carried her to the bed, his eyes harsh with desire. “You’ve won, my lady. I hope you are happy.”

The room was veiled in darkness except for a bar of moonlight spilling through the open window. India moved beneath him as he bent low, his hands locked on each side of her. Her lips were flushed with the bite of his mouth. Her breasts gleamed faintly, thrusting hungrily where he had freed them from her gown.

But he did not move, not even then.

“Dev? What is it?”

At those husky words of passion and need, Devlyn Carlisle closed his eyes and breathed a raw curse. She was his wife, perfectly open to him, perfectly welcoming in her desire.

And he was nothing but the worst sort of fool to fall prey to his hunger again. Every second he spent with her was dangerous. He could not possess her as his body raged to do. Not until this wretched masquerade for Wellington was at an end.

His jaw hardened. Need made him blind, and the only thing he could think of was sliding up her skirt and driving against her soft thighs until he heard her husky cry of passion.

Slowly his head fell to the curve of one full breast. India moaned and bowed her back, pulling him closer.

That clear token of her love ripped Devlyn’s heart whole from his chest. He could go no further, not until he was free to give the explanations that must follow such a scene of stark intimacy.

To do more now would shame them both.

So Thorne told himself — and he tried vainly to make his angry body believe it.

His eyes were unreadable as he released her and came slowly to his feet. At first, India didn’t understand his intent. Her eyes widened, pain and uncertainty darkening their beautiful blue-gray depths.

“Dev?” Her voice was a ragged sigh. “Where are you going?”

“It’s late.” Somehow he managed to speak with tolerable clarity. “You must be exhausted and I need to regain my control. What I did was madness and unforgivable. You are a guest beneath my roof.”

“I am your
wife!”

A muscle flashed at Dev’s jaw. “So you say.”

“You still won’t admit it?”

“I am a man, only a man. Here in the moonlight and shadows I came very near to taking advantage of you.”

“You merely took what I offered freely, in love.”

“Then you are a greater fool even than I.” Devlyn closed his eyes, trying to shut out the sight of her. But his memories were sharp, more cruel than any vision. Her hair spilled gold and red across the pillows. Her breasts were tight and full, capped with a deep rich red, hungry for the touch of his lips. Thorne knew exactly what she would do if he touched her again. She would moan, shifting her body and opening to his jutting erection, welcoming him when he spread her and put an end to her need.

A fine sheen of sweat glimmered on his brow. “Yes, I want you. And that wanting makes me the worst sort of villain,” he said harshly. “Desire makes me presume upon a memory I do not share.”

India struggled backward, her voice breaking. “Even now, you remember nothing?”

“Nothing.” His face could have been carved from granite, half in moonlight and half in shadow. “You are very beautiful. Your body would be a mortal temptation to any man. That, I’m afraid, can be my only excuse.”

Her hands fisted. She slid away from him, her eyes desolate with pain. The impersonal slide of his gaze made her raise her hands to cover her nakedness. “Get out!” she said raggedly, her face pale with shock.

She was right to be furious, Dev thought bitterly. He had done the unforgivable, thought the unthinkable, said the unspeakable. And there could be no explanations, not now while it mattered.

Not until he found Napoleon’s hoard of lost diamonds and saved his country from vicious enemies.

And so he bowed coolly in the moonlight, his face blank and hard as any of those lost gems. Staying would only cause her greater pain. That knowledge made him turn away and stride from the room.

In his blind desire to rid her of his painful presence, Devlyn did not notice the first of the tears that spilled like cold diamonds onto India’s cheeks.

~ ~ ~

He sat tensely before the fireplace an hour later, his eyes locked on the dancing flames. His thoughts were still grim as the scratch of small fingers against the door to his study made him look
up.

Alexis stood swaying anxiously from foot to foot, her worn doll clutched tightly under one arm. “I-I’m sorry to bother you, Papa. That is, your lordship. But I thought you’d want to know.”

“To know what, Daffodil?”

“That she’s gone.”

Devlyn moved to the door, frowning. “Gone? Who is gone? This isn’t more of your imaginary intruders, is it?”

“No, it was her. The pretty lady,” Alexis said impatiently.

“Lady India?” Devlyn bent down beside the small girl.

“Yes, that’s the one.” The girl’s head crooked. “Why are you wearing different clothes from when I saw you earlier? You’re all dusty.” She raised a hand and touched his brow. “And the scar on your forehead — it’s not there.”

Devlyn bit back a curse. “It’s just a trick of the firelight, Alexis.”

The girl frowned, trying to see beneath the dark curve of hair that had slid over his brow. “But I didn’t see the scar.”

Devlyn raised her face to his. “How do you know Lady India has gone away?”

“I saw her. She had one of Marianne’s old cloaks about her shoulders. I was watching from the stairway when she left.” The little girl was quiet for a moment. “She was crying.”

Devlyn’s jaw hardened. He caught Alexis up in his arms and carried her to her room. “Stay here with Marianne. Chilton will keep an eye on things while I’m gone.”

“But where are
you
going?”

“I am going after the most impossible woman in the world.”

Alexis watched her guardian stride from her room. Her fingers plucked nervously at her old doll. “Be very careful,” she whispered. “He is out there again. And now he is watching all of us.”