Love Is Blind (33 page)

"The killer has to be someone who was both in London and is now here."

Adrian nodded.

"Shall we make a list?" Clarissa's father asked.

Adrian sighed. "Reginald would be on it, of course."

"And Lydia," John
Crambray
suggested. "She was both there and here, and—in fact—was the one who took away Clarissa's spectacles, making her accident-prone."

"You know about that?" Adrian asked with surprise.

Clarissa's father nodded. "Lydia claimed Clarissa broke her spectacles, and my daughter let her get away with it, but I have known for a long time that Lydia dislikes my daughter. She wouldn't dare treat her with anything but respect in my presence, but of course, here in London . . ." He shrugged. "I feared without my presence she would treat her less kindly. I decided

I'd best come to the city after all, and was arranging my affairs so that I could come when I got word of your marriage.
'Tis
why I was able to leave so quickly."

"Ah," Adrian said. He shouldn't be surprised at this news, and part of him wasn't. He had already come to the conclusion that Clarissa's father was an intelligent man.

Sighing, Adrian continued with their list. "I suppose we should add the servants. Both Joan and
Keighley
were in London and here."

"
Keighley
is your manservant, is he not?"
Crambray
asked.

Adrian nodded. "He was not in her life before I was, but if the first accidents were just accidents . . ." He shrugged.

"Unfortunately, neither servant has a motive,"
Crambray
said wearily. "Lydia does. She hates Clarissa."

"And there's Reginald, who needs money if Hadley is right," Adrian suggested.

"Do you doubt him?"
Crambray
asked.

Adrian shook his head. "No. He is a very thorough man."

Crambray
nodded, then got to his feet. "I think I should go have a chat with my wife."

Adrian watched the door close behind Clarissa's father, then turned to peer out the window of his office at the rolling hills and green fields of his estate. His thoughts were awhirl. He found it hard to believe that Reginald would harm anyone, but...

His thoughts died as a movement out of the corner of his eye made his head whip around toward the door. Outside his study in the library, Clarissa was standing in the now open door. He took one look at her face and knew she had been listening.

"How much did you hear?" he asked quietly, standing to move around the desk.

"Most of it, I think," she admitted. "I came down to the library for a book right after my father followed you out of the room. I did not intend to eavesdrop, but your office door was cracked open. I heard everything.

"I do not think Reginald would harm me," she went on as Adrian paused before her, resting his hands on her waist.

He sighed and pulled her forward against him, then placed his cheek against the top of her head. "Neither do I. But someone is."

"But why?" she asked plaintively.

Adrian squeezed her a little tighter, wishing he could have kept her from this knowledge. She sounded so bewildered and hurt. "I do not know, Clarissa. But I will find out," he vowed. He pushed her back to look down into her face and said, "In the meantime, you should not be out of bed."

She shrugged. "I am not tired, and I feel fine."

"Clarissa, I nearly lost you last night. I would have you stay in bed at least a day to recover," Adrian said firmly. When she opened her mouth to protest, he added in a pleading voice, "If not for your sake, then for mine. I swear I nearly had an apoplexy when I found you so pale and unmoving. I do not want to lose you."

Adrian was close enough that Clarissa could see the lines of strain around his eyes. He really had been worried, she realized, and she felt her heart tighten. Maybe he truly had come to care for her. Perhaps he would not mind so much that she wore spectacles.

Mayhap he would still want her anyway. But she supposed that was a matter to test another time.

Clarissa closed her mouth on the protest she'd been about to give and hugged him tightly, blinking rapidly to dispel the tears that glazed her eyes.

"
Mmm
," Adrian murmured. "It is good to hold you. I feared for a while I would never get the chance to do so again."

Clarissa sighed against his chest, enjoying the gentle play of his hands over her back through the silk of her robe. The caress was almost absentminded, and she suspected he wasn't even aware of what he was doing. But as his hands brushed the sides of her breasts in passing, she was aware, and—as always—her body responded.

Smiling
sofdy
, she leaned back and said, "I shall make a deal with you, husband. I shall go back to bed ... if you join me."

She saw him smile at the offer. Adrian's eyes drifted down over her. He said huskily, "While I am tempted, wife, you are not well enough for such things yet."

Clarissa raised her eyebrows. He was more than tempted. She could feel his erection pressing against her, and she knew he was just trying to be considerate. As usual. But she didn't desire consideration right now.

"Not well enough?" Clarissa asked
sofdy
. Smiling wickedly, she took a step back from him into the library and undid the sash of her robe. While he watched, she drew the flaps open to reveal nipples already hard with desire. She allowed him to look his fill, then released the sides of her robe and took his hands to place them over her breasts so that he could feel

how hard the tips were. "My body does not agree with you, husband. It seems to think I am well enough."

"Clarissa," Adrian growled in warning. "No."

"Your mouth says no, but your body says yes," she murmured, slipping a hand down to run one finger along the length of the hardness in his breeches.

A fire lit in Adrian's eyes as she caressed him through the material. His voice was husky as he said, "You have grown bold since our wedding night, wife."

Clarissa bit her lip, then cupped him with her whole hand. Tilting her head, she asked, "Do you mind?"

"No," he growled, moving forward.

Clarissa backed slowly away, smiling, leading him toward the couch in the library. "Good. Because I want to make you as happy as you make me."

"And how do you plan to do that?" Adrian asked. Clearly amused, he allowed her to lead him across the room.

"I have been reading books, my lord, in search of ways for a woman to pleasure a man."

"Without spectacles?" Adrian asked, then warned, "You shall strain your eyes more."

"You are worth it, my lord," Clarissa murmured, not mentioning her spectacles. She no more wanted to discuss them just now than he seemed to want to discuss Reginald or the matter of who was trying to harm her.

"And what have you learned from your books?" he asked, slipping his hands inside her robe to hold her at the waist. She bumped up against the sofa and came to a halt, then sighed at the feel of his rough hands on her soft skin.

"I learned that I can please you
exacdy
as you please me."

"Oh?" he asked.

'Yes." She smiled and ran her hands up his chest as Adrian's own hands slipped around behind her. Clarissa murmured with pleasure as they dropped to her behind. He urged her closer, lifting her against him so that they were groin-to-groin.

"I
love your strength," she whispered, rubbing her mouth along his chin. "I love your body; I love your mind; I love the pleasure you give me. Let me pleasure you."

Adrian growled deep in his throat and covered her mouth with his. His kiss was hot and thrilling and she caught her arms around his neck and moaned into his mouth, tilting her head for the best effect. His hands were hard on her behind, his erection hard on her front. His lips and tongue were hard as they explored her. It would be easy to believe he was hard through and through, but Clarissa knew that hardness simply guarded the softness inside.

"We have to go upstairs," Adrian muttered, breaking their kiss.

"Still trying to send me to bed?" she taunted as he set her on her feet. The moment his hands released her, she dropped to her knees before him and reached for his breeches.

"Clarissa," he growled, trying to catch her hands, but she was quick and had already tugged his breeches down, her hands out of reach.

'Yes, my lord?" she asked
innocendy
, as his erection popped out and bobbed briefly before she caught it in one firm hand. Adrian sucked in a hard breath, his body jerking into her touch.

"Oh, God, you shall be the death of me," he groaned.

"I sincerely hope not, my lord husband," Clarissa murmured, contemplating his staff and wondering ex-
acdy
how to pleasure him. One of the books had mentioned something about this, but it had all been terribly metaphorical and not really instructive, except to assure her that as he had used his mouth to pleasure her, she could do the same to him.

Shrugging inwardly, she leaned forward and simply popped him into her mouth. That seemed the best way to go about it. He was long and hard and yet soft at the same time, like velvet over steel. Clarissa held him there, then moved her mouth forward . . . and decided she was doing things right when she heard him suck air in through his teeth.

"Dear God." He gasped, catching one hand in her hair.

Clarissa took that to mean she was doing it right, and ran her mouth down his length again. It seemed the natural thing to do. It was the same action he'd used when making love to her, and it did seem her mouth was just replacing her body.

"Clarissa, you have to stop," Adrian said harshly; then he added, "Please."

When she ignored him, he ground out, "We have four guests and almost two dozen servants running around. Someone could come in."

Noting that the muscles of his thighs were quivering, Clarissa ran a hand along one with fascination as she drew her mouth along his length again.

Adrian gave up talking and was reduced to breathless pants, and it seemed to her that he had grown harder under her ministrations. The hand she was using for balance brushed his feet, and she slanted her eyes downward with surprise to see that his toes were

curled. It seemed she could do that for him just as he did for her.

This was all new to Clarissa, and fascinating because of it, but she thought she preferred it when he made love to her. His body enveloped her then, his arms around her, his erection filling her, his mouth kissing her. She really liked that the best—but she also liked the idea of pleasing him, so she was terribly disappointed when he suddenly bent and caught her by the shoulders to force her away.

"Husband," she protested as he quickly jerked his breeches back up. It was all the complaint she managed to get out before he finished with his pants and caught her up in his arms.

"Upstairs," he panted, apparently still breathless. "You may do whatever you like to me, but upstairs, where we need not fear being interrupted."

Appeased by that promise, Clarissa relaxed in his arms and let him carry her from the library.

Chapter Eighteen

Clarissa watched silently as the servants filled a bath for her. Adrian had promised to have one sent up when he'd gone below, and had kept his promise. She felt bad about the time of day, knowing that early morning was the staff's busiest time, but she'd never had her bath the day before and really felt she needed one after the strenuous activities of the day and night—strenuous activities that had resulted in a long sleep, followed by more strenuous activity and more sleep.

Adrian had had a sleepless night to make up for, and Clarissa, it seemed, hadn't been as recovered as she'd thought. They'd spent more time sleeping than making love, though both had been wonderful.

Clarissa's attention returned to the bath as the last of the water was poured in; then she watched as the room emptied out until only she and Joan remained. The moment the door closed behind the last person,

Clarissa moved to the bedside table to retrieve her spectacles from the small bag resting there. She'd decided at one point during the night, while laying, staring at Adrian's sleeping face, that she'd heed Lady
Mowbray's
and Kibble's advice and start wearing her spectacles. However, Clarissa had been made so self-conscious about them for so long, she wanted to start out slowly. She'd wear them in front of Joan first and see how the maid reacted. Then perhaps she'd move on to other servants, and then finally her family and husband.

Straightening with the spectacles in hand, Clarissa hesitated, then perched them on her nose, calmly retrieved her book from the drawer of the bedside table, and turned to walk to the tub.

"Shall I—" Joan's words ended abruptly and were followed by a thud as she dropped the bar of soap she'd been carrying.

Clarissa glanced at the maid sharply, trying to decipher her expression. She didn't like to admit it, but it looked to her as if Joan's face held horror. Just as she came to that conclusion, the maid forced the look away and managed a pitiful smile.
"I
... you .. ."