The Danger in Tempting an Earl (28 page)

Picking up the soap that was sitting on a small dish beside the tub, she rubbed it between her hands to produce a thick lather. Raising one arm, she then swept the lather slowly along the length of it. “As you can see, I followed your advice—not a maid in sight.”

“Thank God for that,” Lucien murmured, his eyes fixed on the motion of her hand as she slowly soaped herself.

Finished with one arm, she directed her attention to the other, attempting the most sensual movements she could manage. Lucien’s lips parted and his breathing grew increasingly labored, judging from the heavy rise and fall of his chest. Katherine’s heart soared, happy with the effect she was having on him. How invigorating it was to be looked upon with the deep longing that glowed in his eyes.

Sitting up, Katherine brought her breasts out from beneath the surface of the water and ran her fingertips across them. Lucien groaned, the sound a gentle plea of encouragement that brought out the wanton within her. Arching her back, she applied the soap, then set it aside and began to massage each breast, reveling in how full and heavy they grew beneath her touch. When she carefully squeezed one of her pebbling nipples in the same way Lucien had done before, a surge of energy rushed between her thighs, where it swirled about until it began to ache.

“Do you like touching yourself like that?” Lucien asked. His voice sounded raspy.

“I like that you’re watching me do it,” she murmured, for it was the truth.

“Tell me how it feels,” he urged as he untied the sash of his robe and allowed the garment to slip from his shoulders. He was naked beneath, and heavily aroused. Katherine couldn’t help but stare, her movements stilling as she did so. “Don’t stop,” he muttered. “A woman ought to know how to take her own pleasure. I want to watch you take yours.”

A gasp escaped Katherine’s lips at the wickedness of his suggestion. Surely she couldn’t be
that
bold.

As if reading her mind, Lucien placed his own hand upon his erect member and said, “Please, Kate—do it for me.”

His words broke her and she quietly nodded, increasingly impassioned by the indecency of it all and loving the groans that came from Lucien each time she tugged at her nipples.

“Lean back,” he told her, his voice hoarse and insistent. She did as he asked, lowering her body farther into the water. “Now raise one leg. Hitch it over the edge of the tub and lift your hips.” Again she complied, producing a position so scandalous it would have made a harlot blush. “Now show me . . . show me where you want me the most.”

Katherine looked at him and at the figure he portrayed as he stood there before her completely nude, his eyes blazing with intense need. He was at his most vulnerable right now, and the knowledge—the trust he was placing in her—dissolved all of her own apprehensions.

Slipping her fingers along her leg, she carefully touched the juncture between her thighs.

“Yes,” Lucien muttered, “like that.”

Stunned by how good it felt, Katherine did it again. She’d never thought to give herself pleasure before and had certainly never imagined doing so with someone watching. Now, as tingles started up her legs and waves of heat spiraled outward along her limbs, she found it difficult to understand why. Her fingers found the spot that Lucien had stroked the day before, and sparks took flight, urging her to accelerate her movements, to tense her muscles and tilt her hips until finally, she shattered before him.

“My God,” Lucien gasped, and before Katherine could return to solid ground, he’d scooped her up in his arms and marched across to the bed, clearly not caring how wet the bedclothes would become.

Setting her down against the pillows, he climbed up between her thighs and lowered his head to her most intimate part. Katherine squealed from the shock of it, but with one flick of his tongue, he swiftly made her writhe beneath him as she gasped for air.

Heavens, this feels good!

He spread her wider with his hands and thrust one finger inside her while his tongue continued to work its magic. It wasn’t long before Katherine felt the stirrings of another climax coming on fast, so when he added a second finger, she promptly flew apart on a scream of ecstasy.

“I have to have you now,” he told her earnestly as he leaned over her, his hand caressing her waistline.

Katherine blinked. “I didn’t think I’d be able to do that so soon after . . . you know.”

Lucien grinned. “My dear, as long as you’re in the mood, I don’t see why you shouldn’t come for me as often as you choose.”

“Good heavens, Lucien. Does your mother know that you talk like that?” His wicked words had made her all hot and desperate again.

“Heaven forbid,” he said as he lowered his lips to hers, kissing her thoroughly and with so much passion that Katherine had to wonder how she’d never noticed his desire for her until now. “I suggest we keep it that way,” he added.

His hand slipped between them, teasing her gently. “Don’t stop,” she whispered as she tilted her hips in invitation.

Lucien chuckled. “Why, Kate, I do believe you’ve lost your inhibitions.”

“I daresay you may be right.”

“Hmm . . . I like it.” He nibbled her shoulder. “You’re ready for me now, and I’ve no desire to wait another second to claim you.”

And as he slid inside her, filling her, Katherine knew she’d rather die than be separated from this man. “I love you,” she whispered as he kissed his way along her neck.

“I love you too,” he muttered, his hands shifting to her hips as he thrust himself in and out of her. “I always have.”

Once again, as if by magic, the tingles started. They rose up her legs to pool between her thighs, where the intensity of them grew gradually stronger until she felt herself burst with blinding light. A deep, guttural groan escaped Lucien a second later, and she felt him spilling himself inside her. The thought would have terrified her last week, for she’d vowed never to remarry, unwilling to suffer the torture that Charles had subjected her to. Now, however, she thrilled at the possibility of carrying Lucien’s child, so when he quietly settled himself beside her, cradling her close, she felt nothing but happy contentment.

Chapter 19

S
eated in a secluded corner of the dining room at The Fox and Hound, Laura Islington, Countess of Trapleigh, stabbed at the chicken she’d ordered from one of the waitresses. She was furious. If she ever got her hands on Mr. Hendricks again, she would wring the imbecile’s neck—finish him off before the authorities got to him. She never should have trusted him to watch over Lady Crossby while she made arrangements for the lady’s disappearance.

Leaning back in her seat, Laura drummed her fingers against the tabletop and took a healthy sip of her wine. What a mess this had turned out to be. If only she hadn’t botched up that shot at the ball, but when she’d seen Lady Rebecca approach the spot where Lady Crossby had stood, she’d taken a risk, hoping to kill Lady Crossby before Lady Rebecca had gotten any closer. Instead, she’d managed to shoot the one person she’d actually come to like. It was a veritable catastrophe!

Picking up her knife, she diced the potatoes and forked a few pieces of them into her mouth. What the hell was she going to do? Even the treasured letter that Charles had sent her had disappeared. She took another sip of her wine, hoping to drown the pain that caused. She’d been desperately in love with him, poor devil that he’d been. It was tragic really, the way in which a life could be shaped by the evil deeds of others.

It had broken her heart when he’d told her that he was getting married, but she’d understood his reasoning—had known that she and Charles could have no future together as long as his past haunted him. Now, as he lay cold and alone in the ground while his widow seemed increasingly ready to do the one thing he had hoped to prevent, Laura thought of everything Charles had given up—years of his life wasted in an unhappy marriage, the chance to share his future with the woman he loved . . . his health.

There was no doubt in Laura’s mind that it was his marriage to Lady Crossby that had killed him by prompting the deep depression that had eventually led to his addiction. His only satisfaction throughout it all had come from knowing that he’d finally bested Roxberry, but if Roxberry were to marry Lady Crossby anyway, then all of Charles’s sacrifices, including her own, would have been for nothing. Laura couldn’t allow that to happen. Her love for Charles and her devotion to his cause left her with little choice but to stop Lady Crossby by any means necessary. This would be her final tribute to Charles—to take Lady Crossby away from Lord Roxberry forever.

A thought struck her, and she smiled. There was time yet if she hurried. Finishing her meal and downing the remainder of her wine, Laura paid the waitress and started for the door. She was about to be bold and reckless, no doubt, but that didn’t frighten her. Presently, the only thing she feared was failure, because when it came to the man she loved, she would do anything for him, even if it meant sacrificing her own life by risking capture.

I
t was late by the time she arrived at the back entrance to Roxberry House, but Laura had intended it that way. Standing in the shadows, she watched from a distance as a groom flirted with a scullery maid. The door to the mews stood open, forgotten by the couple, allowing Laura a view of the space beyond.

“I think I’m going to turn in,” the groom said, pulling the scullery maid toward him. “Care to join me?”

“You know as well as I that Parker will sack us on the spot if he finds out,” the scullery maid said.

“Oh, come now—everyone’s gone to bed. It’s unfair that you should work as hard as you do without any amusement. At least let me ease your burden a bit.” He tugged her closer. “How about giving me a kiss?”

She did, her free hand going about the groom’s neck while water sloshed from her bucket. Laura took the opportunity to sneak past them and enter the house. “Did you hear something?” she heard the scullery maid ask as the door squeaked shut.

“Not a thing,” the groom assured her.

Expelling a breath, Laura headed down a hallway, past the kitchen and toward the servants’ stairs. She paused to listen. Everything was perfectly still. With quiet footsteps, she started up the steps, jumping at the sound of a grandfather clock chiming midnight as she entered the downstairs hallway. Composing herself, she went toward the next flight of stairs and began her upward journey. Her eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness, which was occasionally interrupted by the glow of streetlights through some of the uncurtained windows. Even so, she’d no idea where Lady Crossby might be sleeping and would have to make a guess. Hopefully, she would pick the correct bedroom and avoid an altercation with Roxberry.

Arriving on the landing, she paused for a moment as she looked about. To her left was a room with the doors flung open. Squinting through the darkness, she determined that it had to be a salon of some sort. She swiveled her head to the right and started down the corridor. There were four doors, two on each side of her. On a deep, steadying breath, she reached out and tried one of the door handles. It was unlocked, and the door opened easily enough. Laura entered the room as silently as a burglar and glanced about, studying the space. It looked like a comfortable bedroom, though the bed was empty. Grabbing one of the pillows, she moved on, entering another room, wherein she found Lady Roxberry fast asleep, the occasional snore reverberating through the air. Backing out of the room, Laura went to the other side of the corridor and tried a different door. It swung open effortlessly and she stepped quietly inside, the heavy breathing of deep slumber flowing toward her.

Crossing the floor, Laura hovered at the edge of the bed and looked down at the sleeping form of Lady Crossby. Laura had never taken a life before, and she was well aware that doing so would not be easy. But she’d loved Charles—she still did—and she wanted to do this for him.

Clutching the pillow between her fingers, she took a deep breath and fought for resolve. She then raised the pillow over Lady Crossby’s head and carefully brought it down over her nose and mouth. There was a beat, then Lady Crossby’s hands flew up in an attempt to push the pillow away. Leaning forward, Laura pushed down harder while Lady Crossby’s body began to writhe back and forth, her legs kicking out in an attempt to push away her assailant. She caught hold of Laura’s wrist and pushed at it with such force that Laura momentarily lost her footing, loosening her hold on the pillow just enough for Lady Crossby’s scream to be heard.

Fear hugged Laura and she quickly pushed down on the pillow again, muffling Lady Crossby’s sounds of distress. If only she could hold the pillow in place a few seconds longer, Laura was sure she’d succeed in her task, but in the next instant, strong hands grabbed her arms and pulled her backward, and then she heard the deep rumble of Lord Roxberry’s voice saying, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He turned her around and began shaking her, dark fury lighting his eyes. His gaze shifted toward the bed. “Kate? Are you all right?”

“Y-yes,” Lady Crossby gasped. Sitting up, she stared accusingly at her attacker.

“I’m happy to hear it,” Lord Roxberry said. He then shoved Laura aside and crossed the floor to the door. Shutting it, he turned the lock and pocketed the key. He glared at Laura. A cold shiver slithered along her spine. “You have a great deal of explaining to do,” he said as he addressed her. Crossing his arms, he jerked his chin toward a chair. “I suggest you sit down this instant.”

L
ucien had been to war. He had fought against the French and watched his countrymen drop like flies, fully aware that he might be next. Hell, he’d sat at his brother’s bedside, holding his hand as he’d drawn his last breath. Even so, nothing had ever terrified him as much as the thought of losing Katherine, so when he’d heard her scream as he’d made his way back upstairs from his study, he’d feared the worst.

His fear, however, had since turned to fury. By God, he’d never been as angry with anyone as he now was with Lady Trapleigh. He had a good mind to wring her neck for what she’d just done. Thankfully, he’d arrived on the scene just in time to prevent the worst possible outcome. He shuddered as he picked up the tinderbox on the mantelpiece and lit an oil lamp. “Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked Katherine. She didn’t look at all well as she sat there on her bed with the coverlet pulled up around her. Grabbing the jug of water that stood on the dresser, he poured a glass and handed it to her. He noted that her hand trembled as she took it, her lips quivering ever so slightly as she placed the glass to her mouth and drank. The incident had clearly shaken her, and with good reason. Muttering an oath, Lucien turned toward Lady Trapleigh. “You’d better start talking,” he growled.

“I think the letter speaks for itself,” she said, raising her chin with defiance, “and since I know you must have read it by—”

“The hell it does,” Lucien bellowed. He would not allow such arrogance to pass. Not when the woman before him had just made a third attempt on Katherine’s life.

Lady Trapleigh drew back, visibly stunned by his outburst. “Then by all means, tell me what you wish to know,” she said, sounding annoyingly put out.

The nerve!

He ought to fetch the constable this instant and be done with it. In fact, it was what he should have done in the first place, back at Cresthaven. Devil take it though, he was curious. He wanted her to explain the letter, and he sensed that so did Katherine.

“What I wish to know,” Lucien bit out, “is why you’re so eager for Lady Crossby to die, and what Lord Crossby’s role has been in all of this.”

Lady Trapleigh straightened her shoulders, her pride testing Lucien’s patience to the fullest. Lacing her fingers together in her lap, she looked first at Katherine and then at Lucien. “Lady Crossby’s late husband didn’t marry for love, for if he would have done, he would have married me.” She turned her head toward Katherine. “Indeed, the poor man could barely stomach his wife.”

“I am well aware of it, though I fail to comprehend his reason for deceiving me,” Katherine said. “Once we were married, I saw very little of my husband, and in those rare instances when we did meet, he was always angry with me. All charm and kindness toward me vanished on our wedding night. After that, he chose only to see me in the dark, for brief encounters necessitated by his duty toward the Crossby lineage.”

“I know,” Lady Trapleigh murmured.

Lucien felt ill just thinking about it.

“The truth of your failed marriage is simple enough,” Lady Trapleigh said, “for you see, you were just a means to an end—a woman unfortunate enough to be loved by the wrong man.”

Katherine frowned, and Lucien straightened himself. “What do you mean?” he asked.

Lady Trapleigh offered a smile. “The real target in all of this, Lord Roxberry, has always been you.”

This got Lucien’s full attention. “Lady Trapleigh,” he said, his patience wearing thin. “I would appreciate it if you would explain the entire mess to us, as opposed to speaking in riddles. What the devil do you mean?”

“To be blunt, Lord Crossby despised you—always has,” Lady Trapleigh told him.

“But he and I never socialized with each other, even though we were neighbors. I just can’t think of a single thing I could have done to deserve such wrath.”

“You might not think so, and yet you did, always managing to be one step ahead of him in everything. His father whipped him for it, you know—for not doing as well as you at Eton, for never winning any of the races in which you also competed. You’ve beaten him at everything his entire life—even in the army, where you were promoted to captain, forcing him to endure the greatest humiliation of all by making him follow your command.

“Eventually, his failure as a man, not only in the eyes of his father but in his own, began to consume him. Achieving that honorable discharge from the army served a very important purpose though. It allowed him to return home before you so he could take from you the one person he knew you cared about more than life itself—Lady Crossby. He charmed her in every conceivable way until she finally agreed to marry him—pressured no doubt by her parents, who longed for their daughter to marry a
titled
gentleman. Once the vows had been spoken, he deliberately set out to destroy her.”

Bloody hell! This was madness if it was true.

Lucien glanced across at Katherine, who looked just as stunned as he felt. “I had no idea,” he said.

“I doubt anyone else knew how deep his resentment toward you ran. Even with his dying breath, Charles’s father accused him of being less of a man than you and a great disappointment to the Crossby name. I imagine it must have been very difficult for Charles. He felt like a failure, and he blamed you for that.”

“Tell me, how long were you his mistress?” Katherine asked.

Lady Trapleigh attempted a smile, but it was a sad one. “Lord Crossby and I became lovers a few years before you married him, and we remained so throughout your marriage. We loved each other, and I accepted the choice he made to marry you, even though I wished he would have married me instead—especially when I discovered that I was carrying his child.” She laughed bitterly. “It’s a pity things turned out the way they did, for I do believe we could have been a happy family if it hadn’t been for Crossby’s deep-rooted need for revenge.”