Silk And Steel Part 11

Leaning toward her, he bent his head and kissed her even as he pulled her into his arms. It was a gentle kiss, a tender exploration. Then those warm, full lips parted under his, and he was lost. Desire crashed in on him in storm-force waves. His stomach muscles clenched and his body went rock-hard.

He kissed her fiercely, savagely, his tongue sliding in to taste her more deeply, his mouth moving over hers, first one way and then the other. Kathryn made a soft sound in her throat and her arms slid up around his neck. He could feel her trembling, feel the soft crush of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and a fresh burst of heat surged into his loins.

He cupped her bottom, silently groaned at the firm, intriguing roundness, pulled her more tightly against his arousal, and deepened the kiss, unable to get enough, lost to the world around him.

G.o.d only knew where the next few moments might have led if it hadn't been for the slight knock at the door. Lucien jerked away as if he had been burned, and Kathryn swayed against him, her big green eyes heavy-lidded, her mouth damp and rosy from his kiss. He reached out to steady her, cursing himself for what he'd let happen, fighting to bring himself under control.

"Stay here. I'll see who it is."

Kathryn said nothing. Her attention swung to the door, and the glow of desire faded from her face, replaced by a look of fear. Striding to the window, Lucien glanced outside, saw that it was only Bennie Taylor, and silently thanked the G.o.ds of fate for their timely intervention.

He lifted the latch and opened the door. "What is it, Bennie? What's happened?"

The lad nervously twisted the brown felt hat he had wadded up in one hand. "Your aunt sent me to fetch ye." The boy glanced past him to where Kathryn stood at rigid attention. "Some of the constable's men come lookin' for ye. She told 'em you was away on business, but she was afraid they might come back and she thought ye might want to be there if they did."

Lucien nodded. "That I do." He turned back to Kathryn, his body still pulsing with unspent heat, grateful for the chance to escape. "Since your maid has apparently abandoned you, I'll have Bennie spend the night in the stables. I don't want you here alone."

Kathryn stiffly nodded. Though she held her head high, hot color burned in her cheeks. She knew, just as he did, what had happened between them should not have occurred. Lucien inwardly cursed. He realized he should apologize, but he had done that before and it hadn't stopped him from repeating the offense.

d.a.m.nation. Where this woman was concerned, perhaps he was the one who was mad.

"There is no need for worry," he said. "I'll send word if there is a problem." He forced himself to smile. "I'm sorry I missed out on the stew."

Kathryn said nothing. Just stood there looking fragile and uncertain, and he cursed himself all over again. He would stay away from lodge, he told himself.

He would have to for both of their sakes.

In the meantime, he would deal with the constable's men.

Kathryn spent a torturous night filled with exhausting dreams of the past and terror of what might lie in the future. She awakened at every sound, certain the constable's men had found her, wishing she had some way to protect herself if they did. When she wasn't afraid, she was thinking of Lucien, torn between bitter self-rebuke for what she had done and regret that their encounter had ended so soon. Memories of the marquess's hot, soul-burning kisses clashed with her fears and left her feeling tense and drained, more exhausted than when she had gone to sleep.

It wasn't until late the following afternoon that a note arrived from Lucien. The constable had merely wanted to ask a few more questions, he said. They had no idea where she was, though they continued to search.

"You are safe, Kathryn," the note had ended. "There is no need to fear."

But there was every reason to be afraid and Kathryn knew it. She was more desperate than ever to find a way to protect herself, and after the marquess's last, pa.s.sionate visit, Kathryn had come up with a plan.

At first she had thought that she would just tell him, beg him to help, and he would agree. But the more she thought about it, the more she knew he would never consent to such a scheme. It was too risky. Too reckless. Too completely insane.

It was also totally and unequivocally selfish. She couldn't possibly expect the Marquess of Litchfield to cancel his wedding and marry someone else-even if the union would only last a year. And this would be no simple marriage, for unless her uncle was coerced by a higher authority, he would never simply give his permission.

Kathryn paced the floor of the lodge, trying to convince herself to forget it. Lucien would never agree and doing it without his consent would be unthinkable. That she would even consider betraying the one man she could trust, a man who had risked himself for her and continued to do so every day in an effort to protect her, made the notion even more despicable.

Her conscience warned her to discard the notion, to simply stay in hiding and pray Lucien would find a way to help her, or that she would not be found.

She had almost convinced herself when Bennie Taylor raced up and madly slammed his fists on the door.

"I seen 'em, milady! I seen 'em down in the village!"

Kathryn hurriedly pulled it open. "For heaven's sake, Bennie, what are you talking about?"

"The constable's men, milady. I'm seen 'em down in Gorsham askin' questions about ye."

"Oh, dear G.o.d."

"They was pressin' real hard for information. No one there knows where ye are, of course, but I thought ye'd want to know."

Kathryn swallowed hard. Of course she wanted to know. Her legs started shaking beneath her skirt.

Bennie tugged on the brim of his brown felt hat. "I'll keep a sharp eye, milady, don't ye worry. If I see any sign of 'em headin' this way, I'll come get ye. You can hide somewheres in the forest till I can fetch his lordship."

Kathryn wet her lips, which felt as dry as bone. "Thank you, Bennie. You did just right." The lad nodded and raced off into the woods as Kathryn closed the door. She closed her eyes and leaned against it, her whole body shaking. She was already frightened. Now she was terrified. If she closed her eyes, she could almost hear the guards' debauched laughter as they stripped away her clothes. Any minute the authorities could arrive at the lodge. They would drag her back to that horrible place and there was nothing at all she could do.

Tears burned her eyes, but Kathryn forced them away. She wouldn't sit idly by and let them destroy her. This time she would protect herself. The plan she had only half concocted rose into her mind with blazing force, and in that moment, she knew what she had to do.

She was in more danger than she had ever been and time was running out. Before she could change her mind, she crossed to the sideboard and pulled open the bottom drawer. Taking out pen and ink and several sheets of foolscap, she sat down at the heavy plank table off to one side of the great room and began penning the letter she had mentally composed that morning. Her hand shook, scattering drops of ink across the page.

She took several calming breaths and started over, taking care to make the strokes of her quill bold and broad, different from her usual more delicate script. She was writing to a man who had once been a friend of her father's, Bishop Edwin Tallman.

Though the bishop had believed her uncle's story when she was sent away and sadly refused to intercede on her behalf, he was a man of principle, a highly respected figure in the church. He held one of the twenty-four senior bishop seats in the House of Lords and was influential with all the members of the peerage.

Aside from being notoriously uncompromising in his beliefs, the bishop was one of the few men with enough power to impose his will on the Earl of Dunstan. Kathryn finished the missive, slipped the quill pen back in the inkwell, and read over the letter.

I write to you, Bishop Tallman, as I have learned you were a longtime friend of the late Earl of Milford. If you wish to help Lady Kathryn Grayson, bring her uncle, Lord Dunstan, to the hamlet of Gorsham on the night of November 20. There, in the Wealdon Forest, a secluded hunting lodge lies south, half a mile off the road leading into the village. You will find her there at exactly ten o'clock with the man responsible for her abduction. In memory of the friendship you once shared with her father, do not let Dunstan go after her alone.

Kathryn swallowed down the fear that overrode her guilt. If her plan succeeded, Bishop Tallman would travel to Gorsham with the earl and his men. They would arrive at the lodge around ten to find Lord Litchfield in a compromising circ.u.mstance with Lady Kathryn Grayson.

With the marquess's recent efforts to free her from St. Bart's, his insistence that she was not in the least insane, and the fact that she was an innocent, the bishop would insist-she hoped-that Lucien marry her.

And should her uncle refuse to allow the match, he would be as ruined in the eyes of society as the Marquess of Litchfield.

Kathryn folded the note and sealed it with a drop of melted wax. She would ask Bennie Taylor to pay one of the boys in the village to see it delivered.

She looked down at the letter and a shiver of dread pa.s.sed through her. She was risking all, taking the gravest of chances. If she failed, she would be returned to St Bart's-or someplace worse, if there were such a thing.

But if she succeeded, she would be free.

She thought again of the terms of her guardianship that had set her on this course, a clause that freed her from her uncle's control in the event that she should marry. To escape the earl, she would have done so years ago, but her inheritance would then have gone to her husband, and her uncle would never have given his permission.

If her plan succeeded, he would have no choice.

It was a brilliant scheme-a.s.suming it actually worked.

Lucien was the fly in the pastry. She didn't want to hurt him. He was a good man-the most loyal friend she had ever had. She didn't want to involve him in her life any more deeply than he was already, but the constable's men were practically knocking at her door, and every day brought her uncle closer to finding her. Once he did and she was returned to the madhouse, her life would be over.

Her conscience warred with her feelings for Lucien, feelings, she confessed, that went far deeper than friendship, but she rationalized her role in the destruction of his carefully orchestrated life. He wasn't in love with Allison Hartman-at least she didn't think so. His fiery kiss of the night before was hardly that of a man in love with another women.

And even if he were, in less than a year, Kathryn would be one and twenty, the legal age to marry without her uncle's consent. Lucien could obtain an annulment, leaving both of them free to marry whomever they wished. With the lure of her inheritance, Kathryn could surely find a man more suitable for her to wed.

Still, it was a complex plan and a dozen things could go wrong. She prayed that they would not.

An image of Lucien in one of his tirades arose in the back of her mind and a trickle of fear slipped down her spine. He would be angry, furious in fact. But once the deed was done, surely she could find a way to convince him to forgive her. Certainly he would do so when he realized that in time he could return to the life he had planned.

In the meanwhile, all she had to do was think of a way to lure the marquess to the lodge on the night of November 20. Once he was there, she could find a way to seduce him-or at least lead him far enough along that path to appear convincing.

An odd little shiver ran over her skin, making it feel tingly and tight. Kathryn told herself it was fear of what lay ahead and not antic.i.p.ation.

Standing behind the desk in his study, Douglas Roth, Earl of Dunstan, reread the note the bishop had handed him one last time.

I write to you, Bishop Tallman, as I have learned you were a longtime friend of the late Earl of Milford. If you wish to help Lady Kathryn Grayson, bring her uncle, Lord Dunstan, to the hamlet of Gorsham on the night of November 20. There, in the Wealdon Forest, a secluded hunting lodge lies south, half a mile off the road leading into the village. You will find her there at exactly ten o'clock with the man responsible for her abduction. In the memory of the friendship you once shared with her father, do not let Dunstan go after her alone.

He studied the bold, slightly uneven script, wondering who could have composed it, though he really didn't care. At long last, his relentless search had paid off. In a matter of days, his long-lost, infuriating niece would be returned. Once he had her, he would deal with her in a manner that would end his problems once and for all, and his interests would again be secure.

"What do you think, my lord?" Bishop Tallman, silver-haired and stately, arose from his chair on the opposite side of the desk and braced his palms on the top, the bones in his elegant hands protruding beneath his thin, heavily veined skin.

Douglas smiled. "I believe you have done a very great service in bringing this letter to me. As you can imagine, I've been extremely concerned for Kathryn's safety."

"Then you wish to accompany me as the note suggests."

"Accompany you? There is certainly no need for you to trouble yourself any further. I shall leave within the hour, take a handful of men, and-"

"I shall go, and we shall comply with the message exactly. It is our best hope of finding Lady Kathryn. Lord Milton was a very dear friend. I have suffered any number of sleepless nights worrying about your decision to place his daughter in a place like St. Bart's. I realize you had your reasons, and considering the circ.u.mstances, I did not dispute them. But I owe it to my old friend to do my best for his daughter. I will do as the note requests."

Dunstan clamped hard on his jaw. He didn't need the old man's interference, but perhaps he was right in following the note's instructions. Arriving too soon might frighten his quarry away.

Inwardly he sighed. It would be so much easier if he could simply kill her.

Unfortunately, if he did, her inheritance would pa.s.s to a string of cousins, daughters of the late earl's younger brother. No, he had to find the girl and lock her away. As long as she was simply mad and not dead, her money was his to control.

Douglas shoved back his chair and rose to his feet, rounded the desk to join the bishop. Perhaps this time, instead of shipping her off to St. Bart's, he should simply lock her up in one of the towers at Milford Park. Earlier he hadn't wanted the inconvenience, but considering the problems she had caused, perhaps it was the better solution. With Kathryn close at hand, he could make certain she didn't escape-and see that she stayed healthy.

At least for a while... long enough to siphon off the balance of her inheritance without getting caught.

He smiled at the tall, silver-haired man standing in front of him. "All right, Bishop, we shall do as you wish. You may spend the night here and we shall leave on the morrow. We should reach the village early the following evening and be ready to approach the lodge exactly at ten o'clock. Hopefully, whoever sent the note has given us the correct information."

Bishop Tallman nodded, apparently satisfied with his decision. "Very good, my lord. Now if you will excuse me, I believe I should like to retire."

"Of course," Douglas said. "I'll have my housekeeper prepare a room, and my daughter will see you upstairs as soon as it is ready."

He watched the old man walk away, his back ramrod straight. The bishop was a man of dignity and honor. He had believed Dunstan's story and been horrified to think the daughter of his dearest friend was involved in something he saw as very close to witchcraft.

Douglas inwardly laughed to think what the old man's conscience would say if he knew the girl had suffered because of his prejudice, his inability to see things beyond the scope of his beloved church. He'd been blinded by Kathryn's unseemly, highly improper interest in the study of medicine.

And fool enough to let that blindness convince him of a well-concocted lie.

TEN.

So far, as nearly as she could guess, Kathryn's plan was proceeding on schedule. Requesting an urgent meeting with Lucien on the night of the twentieth, she had received a note that relayed his agreement to come. He would arrive for supper at eight, as she requested. They could discuss, his reply had said, whatever it was she believed was so important.

That he didn't wish to come was apparent in the tone of the letter. Only grudgingly had he agreed. He was worried about a recurrence of what had happened before, she knew, as well he should be. Kathryn intended to make certain that very thing transpired.

But how exactly to go about it?

And just how far in her seduction was she actually willing to go?

As far as you have to, said the voice inside her head.

It was an unnerving thought, yet she would do what she must. Hopefully, her uncle would arrive long before such a thing could actually occur.

The night of the twentieth arrived like a dark wind from the north, chilling her with an icy sense of dread. Kathryn paced the floor of the lodge, her gown of pale mauve silk swirling about her ankles. Her little maid, f.a.n.n.y, had altered the gown at Kathryn's request, lowering the square-cut neckline to expose more of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. She wore no panniers, only her heavy quilted petticoat and the stiff whalebone corset that thrust her bosom into what she hoped were tempting swells above the low-cut bodice. She'd left her hair loose down her back, and clipped it back on the sides with pretty little tortoisesh.e.l.l combs.

Kathryn checked the clock ticking on the wall, its long bra.s.s pendulum wagging endlessly back and forth. Eight-fifteen. Lucien should have been there by now. He was rarely late. The marquess was a man of exacting discipline who prided himself on a life of order and precision. She studied the clock, watched the minutes tick past, felt the perspiration begin to trickle between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Something must have happened. Dear G.o.d, what on earth could be keeping him?

Kathryn tugged at the cuticle on her thumbnail, so nervous she felt sick. Surely he would come. He had said so and he never broke his word. She tried to calm herself, told herself how crucial it was that nothing seem out of order when he arrived, but her hands had begun to tremble. Her stomach was a bundle of nerves and she was torn between fleeing the lodge while she could still get away, or praying Lucien would come before it was too late.

Ten minutes later, he arrived and Kathryn nearly sobbed with relief when she saw him ride into the glen, leading Blade across the yard toward the stable. By the time he had reached the lodge, she was almost under control. Pasting on a smile and taking a deep, steadying breath, she pulled open the door at his knock.

"My horse picked up a stone," he said simply. "He was limping badly. I had to walk the last mile."

"I was afraid something had happened. Please come in. You must be extremely tired."

He stepped inside, but she saw that he was frowning and a faint tension showed in the straightness of his spine.

"I know you're busy," she said. "I'm grateful you could come."

"You said it was important. From the tone of your message, I couldn't very well refuse." He glanced around, searching for her maid, and a slight flush rose in Kathryn's cheeks. "Where is f.a.n.n.y?"

She moistened her lips, which felt stiff and brittle. "I gave her the evening off. I-I needed to speak to you in private. I thought it best if we were alone."

His dark brows pulled even farther together and his jaw looked tight.

She tried to smile, but it came out wobbly. "I realize you would probably rather not have come, but I truly needed to see you." She moved toward the table, where a pitcher of ale sat beside a heavy pewter tankard. "You must be thirsty after such a difficult journey. There is brandy or sherry. Bennie's mother sent over a pitcher of ale."

He let out a long breath of air, relaxing a little or perhaps simply accepting that he was there and could not politely leave. "A tankard of ale would do wonders."

Kathryn filled the pewter mug and poured herself a gla.s.s of sherry. She took a hefty sip, hoping it would help her to relax. "Supper is ready. We can talk after we eat." She turned toward the fire, to the venison pasties warming on the hearth, but Lucien caught her wrist, bringing her to a halt and forcing her to face him.

"I want to know what's going on. Why did you send for me? What was so important you practically insisted that I come? What is it you want to discuss?"

Her insides clenched. Oh, dear G.o.d! What could she possibly say that he would believe? How could she have ever thought to fool him? Her stomach was quivering. She was making a muck of things and time was running out. She was going to fail, and if she did, her uncle would arrive and her life would be over.

Unexpected tears welled in her eyes. She tried to blink them back, but they spilled over onto her cheeks. She tried to calm herself, but her body started to tremble and she couldn't make it stop.