Dreamspinner (49 page)

“Are you quite certain, Your Grace?” She shaped her ringers to the hard thrust of his arousal. “Oh, yes, I see you are. Yet I wouldn’t want another woman to view what’s for my eyes alone.”

“The devil take the outside world. It’s been forever since we came together in love.”

He bent to kiss her again, a long and luscious joining. Then his mouth moved downward, his tongue tasting her throat and drifting along the neckline of her gown. With a small whimper, she arched her neck and closed her eyes, the better to focus on the sensations of touch and smell. An awesome erotic ache surged inside her, demanding the appeasement only Kent could give her.

He drew the gown to her waist, then wrestled with her corset hooks and muttered a curse. “The devil take all the clothes you women wear, too.”

A smile trembled on her lips. “Don’t bother with my gown. Just love me. Love me now.”

Kent would have smiled back if he’d possessed the strength. The gift of her forgiveness still staggered him; the offering of her body excited him beyond belief. He paused only long enough to wrest the stiff corset from her, then half carried her the few feet to a patch of soft marsh grass. Lying atop her, he dipped his mouth to the scented valley of her breasts. As he tasted one rosebud peak, she writhed and moaned, her sinuous movements sparking a liquid fire that pooled in his groin. He slid shaking hands up the silken length of her stockings, delving beneath petticoats and skirts to push aside her undergarments, where his fingers found the hot, slick folds of her flesh.

“Oh, Kent...”

She clutched his waist; her sighs warmed his throat. Her eyes were closed, the lashes dark against her ivory skin. Her face reflected a radiant pleasure he’d never viewed by light of day. His chest tightened with fleeting regret and burgeoning wonder. God, she was beautiful. His wife.

“Look at me, Juliet,” he commanded, his voice low and unsteady. “Look at the man who loves you.”

She opened her eyes, green eyes rimmed with gold. The adoration shining there almost sent him over the edge.

He couldn’t speak; he couldn’t move. Greater than physical passion, love flowed between them, warmer and richer than ever, a river without depth or end. She was right; they’d both changed, and miraculously the bond between them had been strengthened by their separation.

‘Come inside me,” she whispered. “I’ve missed you so.”

Keeping his gaze locked to hers, he pressed slowly into her until his full length fitted her snug velvet sheath. The blood beat hot and savage through his veins, but he reined in the urge for release, determined to prolong the moment.

“Ah, you feel good,” he muttered. “I could stay right here for the rest of my life.”

“As you wish.” Her lashes lowered slightly; her lips formed a slumberous smile. “I’m yours to command, Your Grace.”

They kissed again, slow and openmouthed, until her taste intoxicated him and her caresses tempted him beyond control. She was soft and eager, all lush, womanly curves and warm, healing sunshine. His willpower fled before the need to move with longer, stronger thrusts. Her legs tightened around him and her breath came in panting sobs. Teetering on the verge, he reared back slightly to stroke her into tumbling over the brink with him.

“Come with me, love,” he said hoarsely. “Come with me into the light.”

She shivered in ecstasy and moaned, the sound infusing him with exultation. Her name a fierce cry of homage on his lips, he succumbed to the pulsing brilliance of fulfillment.

Oblivion slowly released his senses. His limbs felt drained and torpid. A breeze cooled his sweat-dampened shirt. Juliet lay beneath him, her shuddering breaths slowing, her hands clinging limply to his shoulders.

He opened his eyes to the cinnamon hair haloing her face and the dreamy satisfaction of her smile. To think he’d so long deprived himself of savoring her sweet sated expression...

“I thought,” she said, touching his chin with a fingertip, “that you only liked to make love in the dark.”

His chest constricted. Somehow he found strength to pull away from her warmth. He crossed his arms beneath his head and stared up at the lacework of green leaves and brown branches. As he inhaled a lungful of air, her jasmine scent blended with the aroma of crushed grass and the musk of their lovemaking.

“Oh, Christ,” he said. “You deserve the truth about that.”

Wondering at the heaviness in his voice, Juliet pushed up on an elbow to scan the magnificence of his body, then his face through the waning light. She couldn’t imagine why he looked so solemn after the joy they’d shared. “The truth about what?”

“The darkness. That was something else I lied to you about.”

She lay still. “You mean... it isn’t a preference of yours?”

He shook his head. “So many times I wanted to make love to you in the light. But I couldn’t bear to look into your eyes and know I was deceiving you. I couldn’t bear to leave you alone, either.”

A grasshopper sang into the silence. Regret glowed on Kent’s face, along with a heartwarming vulnerability. Plucking a blade of grass, she rolled onto her stomach and tickled the inflexible line of his jaw.

“I think,” she said, “that shows your true character. You’re a good man, Kent Deverell, a man with a conscience.”

He caught her hand, the grass blade fluttering away as he kissed her palm with gentle fervency. “Juliet, I was lost before I met you. All I felt was grief and rage. You brought me out of the shadows, into the light of forgiveness and love.”

Joy coursed through her. “And you gave me love in return,” she said softly. “So it means we’re a well-matched pair.”

“There’ll be no more darkness,” he promised. “Tonight I intend to light a hundred candles while I love you.”

“Augusta will be appalled at the expense.”

His eyes gleamed. “Augusta has no say in how I choose to revere my duchess.”

He drew Juliet astraddle his hard body and subjected her to a long, languid kiss. He felt deliciously solid beneath her, and desire began a slow burn inside her again. But when he broke the kiss, the deviltry had left his expression.

“God help me,” he said. “I’d die if I lost you... or our baby.”

A rush of reality doused the heat. Bracing a hand on his chest, she sat up on the grass and fought off her own despair. “Do you suppose it’s safe to exclude Augusta and Gordon as suspects?”

“I’d like to think so, but who the hell knows anymore?”

“We’re going to find the murderer, Kent. Papa will help us. I’m so happy you two are going to work together.”

“The reconciliation has been long overdue.” His mouth slashed downward into a determined scowl. “I just hope Emmett’s thought of something we’ve missed.”

As they dressed, Juliet found herself praying for the time when they’d be free of fear, when they could live and love without danger. Tidying her hair, she saw Kent frown as he tucked his shirttails into his trousers. What frustrated fury he must feel, to know that someone close to him, someone he’d known for years, had killed Emily and now plotted to kill again.

As he gathered up the creel and rods, she said, “You never got to fish.”

“I may have found a better use for this place.”

“May
have?” she said, trying to tease away his moodiness.

With a distracted grin, he kissed her forehead. “All right, Duchess, I
have.
I’ll never come here again without remembering today.”

Taking firm hold of her hand, he led the way down the brambled path. In the gathering dusk, bees hummed over the cornflowers and a jackdaw pecked at the ripening blackberries. A barn owl, disturbed by their approach, swooped through the air.

When they spied the castle, a stark silhouette rising against the gray sky, curiously she felt no dread, only a deep, abiding contentment. Knowing he loved her made everything bearable again. She paused to smooth her wrinkled, grass-stained skirt. “Do you suppose anyone will guess what we’ve been doing?”

Smiling, he plucked a twig from her hair. “Does it matter? I want everyone to know how much I love you.”

Rubbing his stubbled cheek against hers, he kissed the tender skin below her ear. Juliet lowered her lashes; she adored the feel of him, his woodsy scent and his arousing kisses. Desire flooded her belly, a desire so acute, she wanted to lie down in full view of the castle.

“Yo hoo! Yer Grace!”

He straightened. She turned in his arms to see Mrs. Fleetwood galloping down the garden path, aproned skirt clutched in her beefy hands, anxiety pulling at her doughy face.

Huffing and puffing, she ran up to Kent and bobbed a curtsy. “Please, Yer Grace. You got to come quick, you do.”

“Calm yourself and tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s Mr. Carleton,” she gasped. “He’s been coshed over the head, he has!”

Chapter 25

Juliet’s knees threatened to buckle. Kent put a steadying arm around her and snapped, “Where is he?”

“In his room. ‘Twas the Lady Maud who found the poor gent lyin’ in the hall.”

“Is he conscious?” she whispered.

Mrs. Fleetwood nodded vigorously. “Aye, but groggy. I sent Hatchett after the doctor.”

“Excuse us,” Kent said.

Veering past the housekeeper, he strode toward the postern gate, keeping Juliet close to his side. Horror pressed at her throat and squeezed her rib cage. Someone had tried to kill Papa. The same malicious someone who hated all Carletons.

Her breath came hard and fast as they hurried into the castle and down the dim corridors. “Easy, love,” Kent murmured, slowing as they mounted the stairs. “You mustn’t overtax yourself.”

“But Papa–”

“Will be there even if it takes us half a minute longer.”

Nodding, she took a calming gulp of air. The baby. She must think of the baby. Clinging to his reassuring warmth, she walked up the age-worn steps.

In the guest bedroom, they found Augusta bending over Emmett, who was stretched out, fully clothed, on the bed. His eyes were shut as she applied a damp rag to his brow. Maud and Henry stood on the opposite side of the massive bedstead. Fleetwood hovered nearby, holding up an oil lantern, its yellow glow augmenting the dusk light filtering past the window curtains.

Juliet rushed to Augusta’s side. “Papa, are you all right?”

“Princess?” Opening his eyes, he squinted against the brilliance and waved an imperious hand. “You, there. Move that infernal light away.”

“As you wish, sir.” The butler shuffled off, setting the lantern on a side table before departing.

Rising on an elbow, Emmett swayed.

Juliet caught his arm. “Papa!”

“Lie back down,” Augusta said crisply. “You need to rest.”

“I’ve had enough coddling,” he grumbled. “I’ll be fine once I sit up for a moment.”

“Humph. Suit yourself, then.” Mouth pinched, Augusta marched out of the room.

Appalled at her father’s paleness, Juliet said, “Augusta’s right. You should lie down.”

“I’ll live.” Swinging his legs off the bed, he yanked away the wet cloth and gingerly felt the side of his head. “I’ve taken harder knocks than this in my youth.”

She swallowed. A patch of blood stained the silver strands of his hair, where a lump was visible. Taking the rag, she daubed at the blood. “Thank goodness the doctor is on his way.”

“I don’t need a cursed doctor. I need to get my hands on the bas—” Glancing at her, he amended, “On the person responsible.”

Kent stepped to the bed. “Can you identify your assailant?”

Emmett shook his head, then winced. “No. I’d decided to do some investigating, but when I went into the hall someone struck me over the head. All I saw was a pale blur.”

“I
saw.” Skirt swishing, Maud excitedly rounded the foot of the four-poster. “I was coming up the stairs, to visit Juliet. Mr. Carleton fell and I saw someone running away from the scene of the crime, toward the opposite end of the corridor.” She paused, eyes dramatically wide. “It was Ravi, I know it was!”

“Did you see his face?” Kent asked sharply.

“No, but I’d recognize that light-colored robe anywhere.”

“Dash it all,” Henry said. “You can’t base a deadly accusation on such flimsy evidence.”

Pouting, she folded her arms. “I know what I saw.”

His gait oddly uneven, he walked to her side and slipped an arm around her waist. “Darling,” he murmured, “were you wearing your spectacles?”

Her cheeks pinkened. “Of course not. You know I’d just come from having tea with you in the drawing room. I wanted to tell Juliet the news straightaway.”

“What news?” Juliet said.

Henry toyed nervously with the curled end of his mustache. “Later, Your Grace. Now is hardly the time or the place—”

“Oh, fiddle,” Maud said with an airy wave. “Now is as good a time as any. Henry plans to ask Father for my hand in marriage.”

Juliet smiled in surprised delight. “Maud, how wonderful! We’ll be neighbors.”

Kent clapped Henry on the back. “Never thought you’d give up your wandering ways.”

“To become a dreary country gentleman with a throng of squawking children,” Juliet couldn’t resist teasing.

“Er... yes.” Running a finger under his collar, he walked to the door. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a dinner engagement.”

“You’re limping,” Kent observed. “Have you injured yourself?”

Henry reddened to his ears. Glancing at Maud, he mumbled, “I, er...”

“He had to protect my honor.” An unholy gleam in her eyes, Maud swept to his side. “I’ll see you out, darling.”

As they left the room, Juliet bit back a giggle. Maud must have been forced to use her method for subduing an ardent suitor; a marriage proposal had been the outcome.

“Praise God my daughter didn’t wed such a rake,” Emmett said. “Lord Higgleston would be justified in refusing the alliance.”

Juliet sat beside him on the bed. “Oh, I don’t know, Papa. I suspect Maud will keep Henry on the straight and narrow.”

“But I doubt we can trust her powers of observation,” Kent said, pacing before them, hands on his hips. “That couldn’t have been Ravi she saw running away.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure, Kent,” Emmett said, his face grim. “He was fanatically loyal to your father, which would make him my enemy. I was on my way to find him when I was hit over the head.”