Veiled in Blue (32 page)

He took her hand, but made no effort to draw her into his arms. “Let me tell you about some of the times Augustus can corroborate. When I was barely sixteen and Augustus was younger, two maids entered our lives. One each. And yes, I lost my virginity to one. Alice was sweet, demanding, and much older than I had thought her. In her mid-twenties, as a matter of fact.” He continued steadily, but his eyes revealed a glassy bleakness Eve had rarely seen before. “My mother had sent to London for the pair. Augustus discovered his woman’s true identity and purpose first. He found a letter and payment. Mother had employed them to keep us busy. She wished to control our intimate life.” With an uncharacteristic jerk, he moved his head away to stare at an unremarkable corner of the room. He was avoiding looking at her.

Her shock and disgust was all for the duchess, the woman who had worked to control her sons at all cost.

“When you found me…?” She let her supposition tail off into space.

He turned his attention back to her, and this time his eyes were blazing. “I came to Appleton to investigate the existence of another of the children of the Pretender. Instead, I found you.” His grip on her hand firmed. “I knew my mother had invited her candidates here. I was furious but determined not to accept any of her choices. Maybe a touch of petulance drove my decision to investigate you in person. You see, I am being completely honest.” A touch of a smile touched his lips. Eve was glad to see it. “But when I saw you, everything changed. You may recall my state of tumescence and how long it lasted.”

Now she smiled. “I remember. I didn’t know whether to move away or if you would know I knew if I did that.”

A laugh escaped him. “I cannot say if I fell in love or lust with you at first sight. I forced myself to stay and learn more about you, rather than fall on you like a starving wolf. You did not disappoint me. You could never do that.”

“You weren’t to know.” If she doubted he loved her, she doubted herself. That part was her bedrock, the foundation on which she would build. She refused to contemplate anything else.

“I knew. I wanted you so badly I shocked myself. Believe me, Eve, I thought of nothing else. I should have crowed at the notion of thwarting my mother. I should have rushed you here to throw you in her face. But I was worried for you. I do not want you involved in my mother’s sordid schemes. I won’t use you in any way. Whatever you wish to do, I will do it. If my mother had employed you, I would have been lost.”

God help her, she believed him. How could she not, when she loved him so dearly?

She leaned forward and kissed him. He sat passively, letting her taste him, smooth her lips over his, and caress him. Until, with a fierce growl, he grabbed her waist and hauled her close.

Nothing of the elegant man of fashion remained under the onslaught of this complex warrior. For Julius had fought, Eve had no doubt about that now. He was far from the pampered, privileged son of the elite. He had been used, worked on. After the story of the maid, Eve did not want to hear any more, but she would have to. She had to do justice to him and at least listen.

But she loved him with the same madness that he loved her. They were together, and they would remain so. That certainty sank into her, invaded her, and grew tendrils, binding her to him.

Willingly, she gave herself. When their lips parted, she gasped against his cheek. “Love me, Julius.”

“I do. I will.” His words held a promise every bit as deep as the promises they’d made on their wedding day. Already he was working at the hooks that held her gown firmly on her bodice and then the laces beneath. His fingers worked frantically as she set to work on his waistcoat buttons. They undressed each other in haste, kissing when they could, only pausing to remove another item of clothing and toss it out of the way.

She stood to rid herself of her hooped petticoat, and while she did so, he was at her feet, unfastening her garters and dragging off the stockings. Her shoes came next, after he’d loosened the buckles for her. Then it was his turn, and she sank to her knees, undoing his diamond-studded shoe buckles so he could rid himself of his breeches and undergarments.

He dragged his shirt over his head and spun her around to tackle her stay laces. He had it undone in a trice and Eve felt the familiar sense of relief as she breathed deep, stretching her compressed flesh, reclaiming her natural shape. The brocaded stiffly boned fabric fell away, disregarded, and Julius drew her close. Wearing only her fine shift, Eve felt his flesh, firm against hers, heating her all the way through.

His erection prodded her stomach insistently, but his voice was gentle. “If you say no now, if you wish me to leave you alone, I will. I will do it if it kills me because I love you. Your well-being is far more important than mine, your needs paramount. Say you understand.”

She swallowed. “Yes.” Because she felt the same way. She would do anything for him. She was lost.

Swinging her up into his arms, Julius waded through the layers of discarded silk to the bed, holding her with one arm while he swept the covers back and placed her gently down. He came over her, his gaze never leaving hers, not for a second.

Taking his erection in his hand, he guided it to her. Eve opened her legs and lifted her knees, curling them around his waist as he joined their bodies, binding him to her.

“You may have noticed I did not say no.”

The tension on his face was different to that of half an hour ago, when they’d first come into this room. The corners of his mouth creased as he smiled, revealing indents, dimples. “I do believe you are my salvation, my love.” He thrust into her and held himself there, filling her up.

Sighing, she tried to draw him closer. “I don’t care what you call me. I want you, Julius. So badly I can taste my need.”

Framing her face with his hands, he kissed her, drawing away to say, “So can I. Or maybe it is mine,” before he began to pump into her.

She had needed no preparation. Her wetness bathed him, eased around their thighs, as he drove into her. Desperation left them, all but the need to bring each other pleasure. Her fingers curled into claws, and she dug her nails into his back.

He gasped, a light “Ah!” escaping him, but he was still smiling.

Fierce need flashed from him to her as she moved in synchrony with him, inner thrills moving from where they met along her veins, the fibers of her being, until desire and passion swamped her.

She cried out, only his name remaining in her mind and her heart, the only coherent word left to her. His face bore the stark evidence of his need for her, his gaze passing over her with a possessiveness that thrilled her, his grip on her enough to cause bruises. He slammed into her, every stroke driving her higher, but she responded, arching her back, pushing her groin against him with every deep thrust.

Heat and light grew, expanded, and burst, becoming the divine moment when the world fell away. She savored and bathed in the moment, before he rolled them over, so she could lift up and finish.

He let her see his greatest moment of vulnerability, exposed shamelessly for her to use any way she wanted. She had given herself to him, and he had taken her offering, absorbed it and given it back to her.

She fell on to him, gasping for breath. His chest heaved. They lay still for a while, relishing each other and their complete rapture.

* * * *

Eventually Eve fell asleep and Julius stayed awake, merely for the pleasure of holding her. He did not deserve Eve. He was fully aware of that, but he had her, and he’d be damned if he was letting her go. She lay, breathing softly in deep slumber, her head resting on his shoulder as he held her close, his arm wrapped around her waist. She’d tucked her leg between his, an easy motion that filled him with delight.

Julius would have tumbled into sleep as fast as his wife had he not wanted to enjoy this time, the peaceful hours before day broke and he did what he had decided upon. He would take her away tomorrow, the day after at the latest, and leave the house party from hell to disport itself however it chose.

He would tell Eve more, the ways his mother had used and manipulated him, or tried to, and his father’s indifference or lack of knowledge. He had not succumbed to her wiles, which was why she had turned to her children. His mother needed someone to control. Julius had no idea why, nor did he wish to discover the reason, because any interest would merely help her to ensnare him all over again.

Tonight he’d told Eve his greatest shame, the story of the woman his mother had used to control him. She was not the first, either, and the names of the girls drawn here on this visit meant the duchess intended to continue it. She cared nothing for human happiness or contentment. She subsumed everything to the family, or rather, the family’s influence and reach.

Julius had removed all his investments from the family pot. In time he would return them, but on his own terms. His causes belonged to him alone. Eve was his reward. After years of striving to keep his country stable, the way he could not with his family, Julius had met the one woman he knew without doubt he would love until his dying day.

That was what he wanted to enjoy. But in the knowledge he had many more nights to come of such happiness, he let himself drift into sleep.

Finally, he was happy. He had everything he wanted.

A gun fired, its retort slamming into Julius’s consciousness. At the same time, a woman screamed, her mouth uncomfortably close to his ear.

Instantly, he came awake, sitting up and reaching for the pillow to hurl it at whoever had invaded the room. Wetness coated his arm.

Lamaire stood by the bed, a smoking pistol in his hand, a worn serviceable weapon, not something Julius would associate with the valet. But this man wore a look of determination, deep resolve.

Julius rose from the bed in one swift, powerful move and caught the end of the pistol. Heat seared his palm, but he ignored it and twisted his wrist, wrenching the weapon from his manservant.

Lamaire let loose a volley of French, little of which penetrated Julius’s confused brain. He swung the butt of the gun at Lamaire’s head, but the bastard ducked, and this time spoke in English. “My lord, the other—stop him!”

Despite the warning voices in his head, Julius glanced to one side.

A pool of bright blood stained the sheets where his wife lay. A stranger was slumped over her body. Gore pumped from a gaping hole in his back, the edges fouled with the brown threads from the coat he wore. He still gripped a pistol in one hand. Julius cursed and grabbed it.

He trained the weapon on to the valet, who stepped back from the bed.

“This man was standing over you but he was aiming at your wife.” His English was perfectly intelligible, if heavily accented.

“I thought you spoke little English?” Julius was already shoving the body of the stranger off Eve while he spoke. She wasn’t moving.

Cold invaded his limbs, sent clamps around his heart so he could barely breathe.

“It was better that nobody knew. I kept my tongue, here and downstairs. I heard something that made me wonder, so I came here.”

“Eve!”

Julius took her shoulders in his hands. They were still warm. Blood still pulsed, a sluggish stream, slipping against his fingers.

Then she stirred. When she opened her eyes, she gazed straight into Julius’s. “Am I dead?” she murmured.

After a swift examination, Julius nodded to Lamaire, who rounded the bed. He paused at the dressing table to grab the knife Julius used to pare his nails. His intention became obvious when he pulled a sheet out from where it was tucked into the corner of the mattress and sliced a strip away.

“You are far from dead,” Julius said to Eve. He kept his voice as steady as he could, relief pouring through him when he saw where she was hurt. Lamaire had saved her life. Julius had no doubt Eve had been the target in the stranger’s sights, but thanks to Lamaire’s prompt action, the assassin’s bullet had grazed her upper arm, instead of plunging into her heart.

With the swiftness of a man born to decision, Julius had assessed the situation and found it as Lamaire claimed. He shifted slightly so his servant could attend to the wound, pressing the makeshift pad over it to staunch the flow of blood. “You have been hurt, and your arm will be devilishly stiff for a while, but nothing else. My love…”

Words choked him. He could not imagine a world without his beautiful wife in it, not his world at any rate.

The sound of thundering feet came from the corridor outside and someone pounded on the door before, with a curse as good as anything Julius could devise, Augustus slammed in to the accompaniment of splintering wood. “What in hell happened here?”

“Someone tried to kill us, but Lamaire discovered him and shot him.” Julius glanced up at his valet. “Who sent you?”

Lamaire met his eyes with total candor. Or what looked like candor. “I am a French Protestant, as I told you.”

Julius wasn’t sure he believed him, but wherever he had come from, his manservant was loyal to him. He would discover more later, but now Eve was his main concern. She was crying now, tears pouring down her cheeks, and her body trembled with shock. Ignoring the blood that stained them both, Julius held her close, refusing to let her go until Lamaire had completed his task.

Augustus examined the room as other guests poured in, no doubt keen to see the damage for themselves. Julius was not at all concerned with his state of undress, but Eve might not want so many people to see her naked, so he grabbed the nearest piece of cloth, which happened to be the silk bedcover, and pulled it up to hide her breasts.

Not all the tears came from Eve.

* * * *

Considering someone had actually shot at her, Eve felt strangely calm. Sitting in one of the many small parlors adorning this side of the house, she contemplated her dish of tea, decided she did not really want it, and patted her husband’s hand instead. With her left arm set in a snowy white sling, she could not take his hand in both of hers, but settled for a reassuring smile. She did not truly need the sling, but it seemed to calm Julius, so she tolerated it. Besides, her arm was very sore now.