Seduction Becomes Her (32 page)

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Authors: Shirlee Busbee

Tags: #Romance, #Historical, #Paranormal, #Fantasy

BOOK: Seduction Becomes Her
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“Hmmm, yes, this is much better,” he said, coming to join her on the bed. He pulled her against him and kissed her soundly on the lips. “Yes. Much,
much
better,” he murmured several moments later when he finally lifted his mouth from hers to stare down into her flushed features.

He’d been longing all evening for privacy with his wife, just the two of them, and he savored the moment. Intently, he studied her face. Could Adrian be right? Did Daphne love him? Her reaction when he and Adrian had appeared before her, both of them streaked with blood, had been most gratifying. It had been to him that she had rushed, her beautiful eyes full of anxiety, not her brother. And it had been his wounds that had been the focus of her concern, not Adrian’s far more serious ones. Charles tried to feel guilty for being pleased, tried to be ashamed at his elation at the way she had brushed aside Adrian’s condition to worry over his, but it was beyond him. The joy of finding himself first in her thoughts was far too powerful for any guilt to mar his delight.

Daphne had put
him
first, not her brother, and for Charles, that was monumental as until her advent in his life, he hadn’t even known that he wanted to be first in someone’s heart. He loved Daphne with all of his being, and he longed, nay, hungered for her to feel the same about him. Adrian’s words rang in his ears. Could it be true? Dare he believe?

Daphne squirmed under his steady regard. “What is it?” she asked finally. “Do I have a spot on my nose? Why are you staring so?”

“Can’t I stare at my lovely wife?” he asked softly, his heart so full of love he thought it would burst. Yet vulnerable as he had never been in his life, he hesitated to speak of his love. What if Adrian was wrong? What if he had misinterpreted her anxiety for him? Charles tried to master his chaotic emotions. I should tell her how I feel, he told himself raggedly. I should boldly speak aloud my love and not dither like a schoolboy. But he could not, and hitherto always confident and sure of himself, he discovered that he was shy and uncertain…for perhaps the first time in his life. Avoiding the subject uppermost in his brain, he dropped his head and lightly bit her bottom lip. “Are you still angry with me for not waiting to explore the passage?”

Gently, her fingers caressed the cut on his eyebrow. “I wasn’t angry so much as terrified.” She closed her eyes, remembering the stark terror she had felt when Marcus had said that there had been an accident. Meeting his gaze, she said, “You could have been killed…” Her throat closed up, and tears seeped into her eyes. Her voice thick, she finally got out, “I would have died if something had happened to you. You are everything to me.”

Her words undid him, and unable to hold back his emotions any longer, he muttered, “Oh, Daphne! I adore you!” Raining kisses across her cheeks and nose, he said huskily, “You are the most glorious thing that has ever happened to me, and I shall thank God every day for the rest of my life that you took into that pretty little head of yours to explore that sea cave.”

Stunned, Daphne stared up at him. She’d hoped for this. Yearned with all her heart for this. Yet now that the moment was upon her, she could hardly take it in. “You love me?” she asked wonderingly.

He shook his head, a tender smile curving his mouth. “No. You haven’t been listening, my sweet. Love you? Absolutely not. I
adore
you!”

Joy bloomed within her, and she threw her arms around his neck. “Oh, Charles, I love you, too! So very much.” She laughed and added, “No. Not love. I
adore
you.”

Charles couldn’t describe his happiness at that moment. This incredibly precious woman loved him. Him! Charles Weston. And no one else.
Him!

He buried his face in her wild black hair. “Daffy, sweet, darling, adorable Daffy, I
do
love you. I lost my heart almost from the moment I laid eyes on you.”

“That soon?” she asked.

He raised his head and looked into her eyes. “That soon,” he said. “I remember watching you climb over those rocks and thinking…” He grinned. “Thinking most indecent thoughts.”

“That wasn’t love,” she argued, though her eyes were laughing at him.

“Yes, it was,” he protested. “If it wasn’t love, why else did I stay with you in the sea cave?”

Guilt smote her. “Oh, Charles, I disliked you at first. I didn’t fall in love with you until our wedding day.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said with quiet joy. “All that matters is that you love me and I love you.”

Daphne’s fingers traced his hard features, lingering on his mouth. “Mmm, it’s nice, isn’t it? Being in love. Being in love with your spouse.”

“Very nice,” he murmured. Flicking open her robe, he cupped one breast, anticipation rippling through him when he discovered her nipple already hard and swollen. “And I intend to show you precisely how very nice it is.” And did.

 

It had been well after three o’clock in the morning when the five parted to seek their beds, and it was a bleary-eyed group who met in the morning room just after noon the next day. After several cups of strong coffee and a substantial meal, they were revived somewhat and ready to set their plans in motion.

With April accompanying them, Daphne and Nell adjoined to the library and the shelves upon shelves of Beaumont family papers. Telling April only that they were looking for references to Sir Wesley and his wife, Katherine, each lady took a stack of pages and sat down to read.

The gentlemen, followed by a half dozen husky servants gathered from the fields, set out to remove the boards from the arrow slits. Despite his broken arm and bruised ankle, and hobbling along with a cane, Adrian insisted upon coming with them.

As they left the house, Charles took Goodson aside and requested that a chair be sent around to the south side of the house. “That young cub will be glad of it before long,” Charles murmured as he turned to rush off and join the others.

The day was raw and unpleasant, a cutting wind blowing in from the Channel, but there was no rain, and the sun was attempting to make appearance.

Knowing the general location and what they were looking for, it didn’t take long to find the outside wall of the staircase. Stepping back from the curving, towering walls of what had once been part of the outer edge of the original Norman keep, Charles easily spied the indentations in the stone façade. Ladders would not suffice to reach them, and while the servants were hastily constructing scaffolding, he and the others, followed by a limping Adrian, searched for an entrance.

In Sir Huxley’s time, the gardens on this side of the house had been seldom used and, thus, had been had been allowed to run rampant. From the trees dotting the landscape, one could guess that the grounds had been extensive, but the shrubs, grasses, and bushes were so overgrown that the area looked more like a wilderness than part of a formal garden. A jungle of green pressed next to the stone walls of the house.

Spreading out, Charles, Julian, and Marcus worked around the wall, peering through the tangle of greenery, hoping to find a door. Time passed with no discovery.

Meanwhile, Goodson arrived with the chair Charles had requested for Adrian. Adrian looked mortified, but he was glad of Charles’s thoughtfulness and gave up the battle of pretending his ankle was just fine. Sitting down on the chair, he sighed with relief.

From his position, Adrian had a good view of the action. He observed the servants hard at work constructing the scaffolding for a while and then switched his gaze to the efforts to find an entrance into the staircase. Tired of doing that and wishing he had stayed inside, he glanced around at the ragged gardens, deciding he would have to talk to the head gardener about bringing them back to snuff. Eventually, his attention came back to the house. He studied the curving wall for a time, then watched the others as they pried away vines or pulled back the various pieces of concealing shrubbery. Bored, he considered the section of wall in front of him, the surface nearly obscured by a thick row of several overgrown lilac bushes.

He had been staring at a dark patch in the stone surface of the wall for quite some time when he froze, realizing what he was looking at. Rising from his chair, he hobbled toward the wall. “Over here!” he cried excitedly. “I think I’ve found something.”

Adrian had found the entrance for which the others had searched so diligently, for there behind the lilac bushes was a massive door. The ancient heavy-timbered door was anchored to the stone wall with huge black iron hinges. Darkened by age, the lumber was nearly as black as the hinges, and concealed behind the lilac bushes it was nearly invisible.

“If we hadn’t been specifically looking for it,” Charles mused, “we could have walked past it a hundred times and never noticed it.” Clapping Adrian on the shoulder, he said, “Splendid work! And to think I tried to convince you to stay inside.”

Adrian flushed. “You would have found it eventually,” he said fairly.

“But not as soon,” said Julian, smiling kindly at him. “And you were the one who discovered it.”

A closer examination revealed that behind the row of lilacs, there was a narrow pathway, the branches not extending all the way to the wall itself. Charles’s mouth thinned as he studied that tight space between the wall and the lilacs. It was no natural occurrence—the lilac branches had been systematically broken off, creating a tunnel-like path. A secluded path, he thought with an unpleasant trickle running down his spine, just wide enough for a man to walk through…Scowling, he ran his hand over the splintered ends of one of the branches, noting the signs of healed wood. The break wasn’t new, at least not recent—it could have been done months or years previously, but not, he thought tightly, centuries ago.

“What are you waiting for?” demanded Adrian, his eyes bright with excitement. “Aren’t you going to open the door?”

“Of course,” Charles said slowly, “just as soon as I am armed.”

Adrian’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Armed?” he squeaked in a voice that would have embarrassed him any other time. “Whatever for?”

“Because this path is man-made. That leads me to believe that someone has already discovered our doorway and has been using it for some time.” He sent Adrian a dry look. “I don’t relish coming upon our, um, uninvited guest defenseless.”

Julian and Marcus looked over the pathway themselves, and their expressions were grim when they stepped away from the lilacs. The three men exchanged hard glances. Charles knew that the same thoughts were in his cousins’ minds. Raoul. He didn’t know what they would find behind the ancient wooden door, but instinct told him that this was precisely the sort of lair that would appeal to Raoul.

“I agree with Charles,” Julian said. “We should be armed.”

“By Jupiter!” breathed Adrian, oblivious to the air of tension in the three older men. “Do you think that the smugglers are using my house?”

Adrian appeared more thrilled than alarmed by the notion of smugglers commandeering a section of the house, and Charles felt some of his fear dissipate. Of course, that was the most likely explanation for the pathway behind the lilacs. Smugglers. The house wasn’t that far from the Channel. They had not yet explored the full length of the secret staircase. It was possible there was enough room in the lower reaches of the house for the smugglers to hide their goods before transporting them out of Cornwall. This entrance could be well-known to locals and used since time immemorial. It was a logical conclusion. Yet he could not shake the feeling that Adrian was wrong. There were too many sea caves in which the smugglers could stash their goods. Why the devil would they cart them way up here?

Forcing a smile, Charles said to Adrian, “You could be right, but before I go through that doorway, I want a weapon in my hand.”

 

Charles had hoped that the news of their find would not filter through to the ladies. At least, not until he and Julian and Marcus were armed and had made an initial exploration into whatever lay behind that door. Unfortunately, he had forgotten to tell Adrian to keep his mouth shut and while he and the other two men were busy arming themselves, Adrian had limped into the library and excitedly divulged all to the women.

Convincing the ladies to remain inside until the gentlemen had seen for themselves whatever might be behind the door had been out of the question.

“The last time you went exploring,” Daphne had said fiercely, “you could have been killed. I’m not staying here, wringing my hands, waiting for news of your death. I’m coming with you! And short of locking me in my room, you cannot stop me.”

When Charles, Julian, and Marcus returned to the door Adrian had discovered, they were armed, each carried a lantern, and they were followed by a contingent of curious onlookers.

The weather had changed dramatically since Adrian had discovered the doorway. Gray, sullen clouds scudded overhead, and the wind, already biting, had picked up; then, the first leading edge of rain began to fall. Another storm was blowing in from sea. Thunder boomed, and in the distance, jagged lightning tore across the horizon.

Faced by the force of the storm, almost as one, Adrian, April, Miss Ketty, and the servants retreated to the shelter of the house, leaving only Charles, Julian, Marcus, Nell, and Daphne to continue the exploration.

A brief skirmish between Charles and Daphne confirmed her determination to follow him.

Glaring at his beloved, who glared right back, Charles growled, “This could be dangerous.”

“All the more reason for me to come with you,” snapped Daphne.

Cursing under his breath, Charles ducked behind the lilacs, followed in a single line by the others. Silently, they crept along the narrow pathway.

The door in front of him, Charles paused. He studied it a long second and then putting down his lantern, his pistol held at the ready, his fingers closed around the thick iron handle at one side of the massive door. He lifted the handle, the ease and silence with which it moved telling him that someone had oiled it well. His pulse pounding, he pushed on the door. And like the lid to Pandora’s box, it opened.

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