How to Marry a Marquis (38 page)

Lady D scowled at him. "As I was saying, Elizabeth refused, but she allowed that they might move there once her rent came due, so she brought the entire family out for a visit. Young Lucas was quite taken with it." She frowned thoughtfully.

"I think it was the hunting trophies. Young boys love that sort of thing."

James glanced at a clock that was being used as a bookend. He'd need to leave in about a quarter of an hour if he wanted to be prompt for Lucas's requested meeting.

Agatha sniffed the air and stood, letting Malcolm vault onto an empty bookshelf.

"I'll leave you to your own company," she said, leaning on her cane. "I'll tell the servants not to expect you for supper."

"I'm sure this won't take long."

"One never knows, and if the boy is troubled, you might need to spend some time with him.

Besides"-she paused as she reached the doorway and turned around- "it's not as if you've graced the table with your illustrious presence these past few days, anyway."

A cutting comeback would spoil her magnificent exit, so James just smiled wryly and watched

her walk slowly down the hall, her cane thumping softly in time with her footsteps. He'd long since learned that everyone was happier if Agatha got to have the last word at least half the time.

James walked slowly back into the library, picked up the whiskey glass, and tossed contents

through the open window. Setting the glass back down on the table, he glanced around the room, and his eyes fell upon the little red book that had been haunting him for days.

He strode to the bookshelf and picked it up, tossing the slim volume from hand to hand. It

weighed almost nothing, which seemed ironic, since it had done so much to change his life. And then, in a split-second decision he would never quite understand, he slipped it into his coat pocket.

Much as he detested the book, it somehow made him feel closer to her.

Chapter 22

As Elizabeth approached the late Lord Danbury's hunting lodge, she chewed nervously on her

lower lip, and paused to reread Lady Danbury's unexpected missive.

Elizabeth-

As you are aware, I am being blackmailed. I believe you might have information that will
unearth the villain who has chosen me as his target. Please meet me at Lord Danbury's hunting
lodge at eight this evening.

Yours,

Agatha, Lady Danbury

Elizabeth couldn't imagine why Lady Danbury would think she possessed any pertinent

information, but she had no reason to be suspicious of the note's authenticity. She knew Lady D's handwriting as well as her own, and this was no forgery.

She purposefully had not shared the note with her younger siblings, preferring to tell them that Lady Danbury needed to see her and leave it at that. They knew nothing of the blackmail plots, and Elizabeth hadn't wanted to worry them, especially since Lady D wanted to meet at such a

late hour. It was still quite light out at eight, but unless the countess could conduct her business in mere minutes it would be dark when Elizabeth had to return home.

Elizabeth paused with her hand on the doorknob. There was no carriage in sight, and Lady

Danbury's health did not allow her to walk such distances. If the countess had not yet arrived, then the door was probably locked, and.. .

The knob turned in her hand.

"How odd," she murmured, and entered the house.

There was a fire blazing in the hearth, and an elegant supper was laid on the table. Elizabeth walked farther into the room, turning in a slow circle as she took in the preparations. Why would Lady Danbury ...

"Lady Danbury?" she called out. "Are you here?"

Elizabeth sensed a presence in a doorway behind her and whirled around.

"No," James said. "Only me."

Elizabeth's hand flew to her mouth. "What are you doing here?" she gasped.

His smile was lopsided. "The same as you, I imagine. Did you receive a note from your

brother?"

"Lucas?" she asked, startled. "No, from your aunt."

"Ah. Then they are all conspiring against us. Here ..." He held out a crumpled piece of paper.

"Read this."

Elizabeth unfolded the note and read:

My lord-

Before you leave the district, I beg of you to grant me an audience. There is a matter of some
sensitivity about which I should like to ask your advice. It is not something a man would like to
discuss with his sisters.

Unless I hear otherwise, I shall expect to meet you at Lord Danbury's hunting lodge at eight this
evening.

Sincerely,

Sir Lucas Hotchkiss

Elizabeth barely stifled a horrified giggle. "It's Lucas's handwriting, but the words are straight from Susan's mouth."

James smiled. "I thought it sounded a touch precocious."

"He is very bright, of course-"

"Of course."

"-but I cannot quite hear him use the phrase 'matter of some sensitivity.' "

"Not to mention," James added, "that at the age of eight, it is unlikely that he should even have a matter of some sensitivity."

Elizabeth nodded. "Oh! I'm sure you shall want to read this." She handed him the letter she'd received from Lady Danbury.

He scanned it, then said, "I'm not surprised. I arrived a few minutes before you did and found these." He held out two envelopes, one marked,
Read immediately
and one marked
Read after
you've reconciled.

Elizabeth choked back horrified laughter.

"My reaction precisely," he murmured, "although I doubt I looked half so fetching."

Her eyes flew to his face. He was staring at her with a quiet, burning intensity that robbed her of breath. And then, without diverting his gaze from hers, even for a second, he asked, "Shall we open them?"

It took Elizabeth a few moments to realize what he was talking about. "Oh, the envelopes. Yes, yes." She licked her lips, which had gone quite dry. "But both?"

He held up the one marked Read after you've reconciled and shook it slightly in the air. "I can save it, if you think we will have cause to read it shortly."

She swallowed convulsively and avoided the question by saying, "Why don't we open the other one and see what it says?"

"Very well." He nodded graciously and slid his finger under the envelope flap.

He slipped a card out, and together they bent their heads down and read:

To the both of you-

Try, if you might, not to be complete idiots.

The note was unsigned, but there was no doubt who wrote it. The long, graceful handwriting

was familiar to them both, but it was the words that definitively declared Lady Danbury the

author. No one else could possibly be so delightfully rude.

James cocked his head to the side. "Ah, my loving aunt."

"I cannot believe she tricked me like this," Elizabeth grumbled.

"You can't?" he asked doubtfully.

"Well, yes, of course I can believe that. I just can't believe she would use the blackmail plot as bait. I was quite terrified for her."

"Ah, yes, the blackmail." James regarded the unopened envelope, the one marked
Read after
you've reconciled
. "I have a sneaking suspicion we'll find something about that in here."

Elizabeth gasped. "Do you think she was making it up?"

"She certainly never seemed overly concerned by my lack of progress in solving the crime."

"Open it," Elizabeth ordered. "Immediately. Sooner than immediately."

James started to, then stopped and shook his head. "No," he said in a lazy voice, "I think I'll wait."

"You want to wait?"

He smiled down at her, slow and sensual. "We're not yet reconciled."

"James ..." she said, in a voice that was half warning and half longing.

"You know me," he said. "You know more of my soul than any other person alive, maybe even myself. If at first you didn't know my name ... well, all I can say is that you know why I didn't reveal myself to you right away. I had obligations to my aunt, and I owe her more than I could ever repay."

He waited for her to say something, and when she didn't, his voice grew more impatient. "You know me," he repeated, "and I think you know me well enough to know that I would never do anything to hurt or humiliate you."

His hands landed heavily on her shoulders, and he fought the urge to shake her until she agreed.

"Because if you don't, then there is no hope for us."

Her lips parted in surprise, and James caught a glimpse of the beguiling tip of her tongue. And somehow, as he stared at the face that had haunted him for weeks, he knew exactly what he

needed to do.

Before she had a chance to react, he reached out and took her hand in his. "Do you feel this?" he whispered, placing it against his heart. "It beats for you."

"Do you feel these?" he echoed, raising her hand to his lips. "They breathe for you.

"And my eyes-they see for you. My legs walk for you. My voice speaks for you, and my arms-''

"Stop," she choked out, overcome. "Stop."

"My arms ..." he said, his voice grown hoarse with emotion. "They ache to hold you."

She took a step forward-just an inch or two-and he could see that she was close, her heart was so close to admitting the inevitable.

"I love you," he whispered. "I love you. I see your face when I wake up in the morning, and

you're all I dream about at night. Everything 1 am, and everything I want to be-"

She rushed into his arms, burying her face in the warm haven of his chest. "You never said it,"

she said, her voice nearly strangled by the sobs she'd been holding in for days. "You never said it before."

"I don't know why," he said into her hair. "I meant to, but I was waiting for the time to be right, and then it was never right, and-"

She put a finger to his mouth. "Shhhh. Just kiss me."

For a split second he was frozen, his muscles unable to move in the face of such supreme relief.

Then, overcome with the irrational fear that she might disappear in his arms, he crushed her to him, his mouth devouring hers with a mix of love and longing.

"Stop," he murmured, pulling slightly away from her. And then, while she looked at him with confusion, he reached for her hair and pulled out a pin. "I've never seen it down," he said. "I've seen it mussed, but never undone, shining over your shoulders."

One by one, he pulled the pins loose, each lost pin freeing a long lock of pale golden hair.

Finally, when it cascaded freely down her back, he held her at arm's length and turned her slowly around. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he breathed.

She blushed. "Don't be silly," she mumbled. "I-"

"The most beautiful thing," he repeated. Then he drew her back to him, lifting a fragrant lock and running it over his mouth. "Pure silk," he murmured. "I want to feel this when I go to bed at night."

Elizabeth had thought her skin had felt warm before, but that comment sent her right over the edge. Her cheeks burned, and she would have used her hair to shield her blush had not James

touched the underside of her chin and tilted her head up so that he could look into her eyes.

He leaned forward and kissed the corner of her mouth. "Soon you won't blush anymore." He kissed the other. "Or maybe, if I'm lucky, I'll keep you blushing every night."

"I love you," she blurted out, not sure why she was saying it now, only sure that she had to say it.

His smile spread and his eyes burned with pride. But instead of saying anything in response, he cupped her face and brought her to him for another kiss, this one deeper and more intimate than any before.

Elizabeth melted into him, and his heat seeped into her body, fueling a fire that already

threatened to rage out of control. Her body was tingling with excitement and need, and when he swooped her up into his arms and carried her toward the bedroom, she made no murmur of

protest.

Seconds later they tumbled onto the bed. She felt her clothing slipping away, piece by piece, until she was clad only in her thin cotton shift. The only sound was that of their breathing until James rasped, "Elizabeth ... I won't... I can't..."

She looked up at him, asking all her questions with her eyes.

"If you want me to stop," he managed, "tell me now."

She reached up and touched his face.

"It has to be now," he said hoarsely, "because in a minute I won't be able to-"

She kissed him.

"Oh, God," he moaned. "Oh, Elizabeth."

She should have made him stop, she knew. She should have raced out of the room and not

allowed him within twenty feet of her until she stood next to him in a church as husband and wife. But love, she was discovering, was a powerful emotion, and passion ran a very close

second. And nothing, not propriety, not a wedding band, not even eternal damage to her

reputation and good name, could stop her from reaching for this man right now and encouraging him to make her his.

With trembling fingers she reached for the buttons of his shirt. She had never before taken such an active role in their lovemaking, but heaven help her, she wanted to touch the hot skin of his chest. She wanted to skim her fingers over his powerful muscles and feel his heart pounding with desire.

Her hands trailed down to his abdomen and lingered there for a moment before gently pulling

his linen shirt from the waistband of his breeches. With a shiver of pride, she watched as his muscles bunched and clenched under her gentle touch, and she knew that his desire was

something too great for him to contain.

That this man, who had chased criminals across Europe, and, according to Caroline Ravenscroft, been chased by countless women, could be so undone by her touch-Elizabeth was thrilled to the core. She felt so ... so womanly as she watched her small hand trace circles and hearts on the smooth planes of his chest and stomach.

And as he sucked in his breath and groaned her name, she felt infinitely powerful.