Silk And Steel Part 12

"I know you didn't want to come. I know it was a terrible imposition, but I-I-"

He tipped her chin up, looked into her teary eyes. "Tell me what is wrong," he said more gently than before.

Kathryn shook her head. "I'm just so frightened. I tell myself it will all work out, but as hard as I try, I can't make myself believe it. He's going to come, I know he is. He's going to find me and take me away. I feel like running but I have no place to go. I feel trapped and confused and you... you are the only one I can turn to." Her voice broke on this last, and something flickered in his eyes.

"Kathryn..." A single word and she was in his arms. He was holding her and she was clinging to his neck, pressing her body against his long, lean frame. None of the words she had said were what she had planned. She had simply blurted out the truth.

"I'm sorry, Lucien. I know I've been nothing but trouble." She felt the soft press of his lips on the top of her head. In her heart, she felt the agony of involving him in her plan.

"This isn't your fault. None of this should have happened to you."

She tilted her head back, looked into those piercing dark eyes, caught the glint of silver around the rim of his pupils. There was heat there, she saw, a hunger she had seen in his gaze before.

"Would you kiss me, Lucien?" she asked softly. "I know it's wrong, but I don't care. I need you, Lucien. I need you so-"

He made a low sound in his throat. His hold tightened almost painfully and he silenced her with his mouth, taking her lips in a fierce kiss that stole her breath along with her words. His hands dug into her hair and he held her immobile for the plunder of his tongue, tasting her deeply, making her knees go weak. His kiss was rough, hot, hungry. It was wild, savage, and in some strange way, unbearably tender. The room swirled around her. The walls seemed to fade. She swayed and would have fallen if he hadn't been holding her up.

The kiss went deeper, hotter. Lucien's hand found her breast and he tested the weight of it through the l.u.s.trous silk fabric, his thumb ma.s.saging her nipple. It tightened and swelled, and a soft ache arose there, pulsing with each beat of her heart. Her insides trembled and heat surged into her belly. It sank into her limbs, seeped into her core, left her damp and aching.

"Lucien..." she whispered, kissing him just as fiercely, amazed at the need that rose inside her, needing him as she had never imagined. Kathryn laced her fingers in his shiny black hair, freeing it from the ribbon at the nape of his neck, and he groaned. She sucked in a breath as his long dark fingers slid inside the bodice of her gown to curve over a breast and his mouth traveled down the side of her neck. Hot, moist kisses burned her skin. Graceful hands stroked and teased until she thought she would surely swoon.

He worked the b.u.t.tons at the back of her gown, popping them open one by one, then he slid it off her shoulders, exposing her corset and chemise. He kissed his way across her shoulders then moved lower, easing the chemise down over her arms, pulling the lacings on her corset. He loosened it enough to shove it down, then took the weight of her breast into his mouth.

Kathryn's legs started shaking. The earth seemed to open and swallow her up. A soft sob escaped, the pleasure more intense than anything she could have imagined. Little tongues of heat seemed to lick at her insides, following the path of his kisses. Kathryn's head fell back, giving him freer access to first one breast then the other as he laved them, tasted them, circled the stiff peaks, then returned to suckle the fullness.

Dear G.o.d, she was on fire for him. Her body throbbed all over and a soft ache shimmered in the place between her legs. She had meant to seduce him, but she never would have guessed that in doing so she would also be seducing herself. Vaguely, she wondered how much time had pa.s.sed, but Lucien kissed her again and the thought slid away, buried beneath the skillful fire of his mouth and hands.

She barely noticed when her gown fell into a useless heap on the floor. The petticoat was stripped away, the corset dispensed with. Her chemise bunched around her hips. She scarcely noticed when he lifted her into his arms and carried her over to the sofa, realized only dimly that he had stripped away his shirt.

Kissing her again, he came up over her, her bare b.r.e.a.s.t.s pressing into smooth, hard bands of muscle. Such a magnificent chest. Sinfully dark and hard as the stone floor beneath them. She traced the rigid sinews with her fingers and then with her tongue. She tested the springy black chest hair and touched a flat copper nipple, amazed to feel it contract, to hear a tight hiss of breath escape from his throat.

He kissed her again, and her whole body trembled. Her nipples ached, and she was damp and hot at her feminine core. In the far reaches of her mind, the thought occurred that it was past the time she should stop him. It wasn't part of her plan to let her seduction go so far. She had to end this dangerous game before it was too late, but she couldn't find the will.

He eased her legs apart and settled himself between them. He was unb.u.t.toning his breeches, raising the thin chemise that still covered her from waist to thigh, when the door to the hunting lodge burst open and her uncle walked in, followed by three of his men, and the tall, dignified, silver-haired Bishop Tallman.

For an instant, Lucien went dead still.

"ForG.o.dsake, what the devil-" Dunstan didn't need to finish. It was more than obvious exactly what was going on.

Lucien swore an oath even as he jerked Kathryn's chemise back up over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, grabbed his coat and tossed it over her nearly naked body. Clenching his jaw, he turned away to refasten the b.u.t.tons at the front of his breeches and grab up his shirt.

"Wait outside," her uncle ordered his men, who stood gawking for an instant, then silently slipped away, closing the door behind them. "So it was you after all," her uncle said to Lucien with a curl of his lips. "I didn't think you had that kind of nerve."

"What is the meaning of this?" the bishop demanded. "You're Litchfield, are you not? I believe we've met once before."

Lucien nodded stiffly. "I'm Litchfield." He dragged his full-sleeved shirt on over his head, but didn't bother to tie the string that closed the opening at his throat. "Bishop Tallman, if I'm not mistaken. How is it you are both here, trespa.s.sing on my property?"

The bishop made no reply, simply pulled the note Kathryn had written from a pocket inside his robe. Lucien scanned it and handed it back to him, his expression even more grim.

"I received this three days ago," Edwin Tallman told him. "As you can see it wasn't signed, but it was, apparently, quite accurate." He cast a glance at Kathryn, who huddled beneath the woolen coat, her face a flaming shade of red. She had known this would be hard, but it was worse than she could ever have imagined.

His gaze returned to Litchfield and did not waiver. "You realize this is Lady Kathryn Grayson, daughter of the late Earl of Milford."

Lucien ground down on his jaw. "I do."

"Well, then, you must also realize exactly what this means. You have seduced an innocent young woman, the daughter of an old and n.o.ble family. There is no course open to you but marriage."

Dunstan's head jerked up at the words, his eyes going wide in astonishment. "Marriage? Now wait just a minute-"

"As I said, the girl is an innocent," Bishop Tallman said to Lucien as if the earl hadn't spoken. "You, however, are reputed to be quite a libertine. You have ruined the girl. Now you are honor bound to marry her."

Lucien's hard black gaze swung to Kathryn, and in a single moment of clarity, he knew exactly what she had done. He realized that she had been the author of the note, that she had arranged for all of this to happen. He knew that he was well and truly trapped and that she was the cause, and though he understood why she had done it, he was furious to have been so viciously maneuvered.

A muscle tightened in his jaw. Anger made his face take on a dark reddish cast. He might have made some reply but her uncle broke in just then.

"You can't possibly ask the man to marry the girl. The poor child is quite mad."

The bishop pinned the marquess with an unrelenting glare. "Is that what you believe, my lord? That Lady Kathryn is insane? There were rumors that you were trying to arrange for her ladyship's release from St. Bartholomew's Hospital, that you were convinced she was not at all mad but completely and totally sane. Is that not so, my lord?"

Kathryn held her breath. If he said the right words, he might yet escape his fate. Was he so angry he would abandon her to whatever fate her uncle had in store for her? She bit down on her trembling lip, praying that he would not.

Lucien's eyes remained locked oh her face. "Lady Kathryn is not insane." Far from it, those dark eyes said. A conniving, deceitful little harlot, willing to use her body to gain whatever it is she wants, but she is certainly not insane. Kathryn felt that icy glare like a knife sliding into her heart.

The bishop moved farther into the room, his robes floating out around him. "If you truly believe she is sound of mind, it is your duty to marry her."

"The girl is dangerous," Dunstan argued. "She tried to poison my daughter. She tried to-"

"I did not!" Kathryn came up on her knees on the sofa, clutching Lucien's coat around her. "I was trying to help her and you know it!"

"Are you afraid of the girl, my lord?" the bishop asked calmly.

A muscle tightened in Lucien's jaw. "No. I don't believe she would purposely do harm to anyone." But his fierce expression said she had certainly dealt a deadly blow to him.

"Then I will send word to the archbishop on the morrow. It is not all that far to Canterbury. The two of you should be able to marry in a couple of days."

"This is absurd!" Dunstan strode forward, his tricorne hat gripped tightly under one arm. "The chit is not in her right mind. I tell you she's-"

The bishop's warning glance cut him off. "You are her guardian. Her father gave her into your care because he trusted you. It is your duty to do what is in Lady Kathryn's best interest. Do you truly believe that marriage to the Marquess of Litchfield would be worse for her than sending her back to St. Bart's?"

Her uncle cleared his throat. His face was red and his eyes darted around like those of a cornered animal. "Well, no, of course not, but-"

"Then the matter is settled. The marriage will take place as soon as a special license can be obtained." Dunstan said nothing more, but the look of fury on his face said that murder would have been far more to his liking.

"In the meantime-with Lord Litchfield's permission-Lady Kathryn and I will accompany his lordship home, where we will remain until the ceremony has been performed. I intend do the honors myself. I owe it to Lady Kathryn's father."

Her uncle's jaw clamped so hard his teeth made a grinding noise. With a stiff nod of his head, he turned and stalked out of the room. She could hear him shouting to his men, then there was the creak of saddle leather and the jangle of bridles and bits. The rumble of horses' hooves followed, fading into the distance as he and his men rode away.

"My carriage is parked down the lane. If you will join me, Lord Litchfield, we will give her ladyship a moment to make ready."

Lucien merely nodded. It was difficult to know exactly what he was thinking for his mask of control had been skillfully set back into place. But Kathryn could easily guess. If anger could be bottled and hidden away, the marquess would no doubt have stored a cellar full. Thinking of his friendship, of the fiery, pa.s.sionate kisses they had shared before her uncle's arrival, a painful ache rose inside her.

He would marry her, but she was no longer sure he would ever forgive her. She had betrayed him in the crudest, most vicious manner, and it was obvious how bitter he was.

You only did what you had to, said the voice inside her head. But her heart clutched at the guilt she felt, and the thought occurred, as it should have before, that the Marquess of Litchfield wasn't a man who would easily forgive.

Jason Sinclair sat on the sofa in the Red Salon of Castle Running, his wife perched nervously beside him. They had arrived just minutes before and been immediately ushered into the elegant salon by a grim-faced Reeves, Lucien's long-nosed, exceedingly proper butler.

Velvet reached over and captured his hand. "I'm worried, Jason. Something must be terribly wrong."

Jason made no reply, distracted by the sound of the ornate walnut doors sliding open. He came to his feet as his best friend walked in and the butler closed the doors behind him. From the set of Lucien's jaw and the hard look on his face, it was obvious his wife was not wrong.

"We came as soon as we received your message." Jason strode toward him. "You said it was urgent. Obviously something has happened. I hope this has nothing to do with Lady Kathryn."

A corner of Lucien's mouth tipped up in a tight smile that was merely a curl of his lips. "You're right, my friend. Something has happened. And it has everything to do with Lady Kathryn Grayson."

Velvet surged to her feet. "Good heavens-they didn't discover she was hiding at the lodge?"

His features seemed to harden. "Not exactly." He moved to the sideboard and began to pour himself a drink, every movement stiff and punctuated with what Jason suddenly realized was anger. He was dressed more formally than usual, especially for so early in the afternoon. His navy blue velvet coat, white cravat, and tight navy satin breeches fit perfectly. The froth of lace hanging below his cuffs looked stark against the darkness of his long-fingered hands. His queued-back hair was powdered, as Lucien rarely wore it.

"Would either of you care for a drink? Some brandy or sherry, perhaps?"

Jason shook his head and so did Velvet. "Just tell us what this is about."

That sardonic semblance of a smile reappeared. "I'm sorry for imposing upon you on such short notice, but I've invited you here for a special occasion. You're both to be guests at a wedding."

"A wedding?" Velvet repeated. "Whose wedding?"

Lucien's mouth went thin. He tossed back the brandy as if it were water. "Mine."

Jason arched a brow in surprise. "From the tone of your voice, I take it you aren't exactly pleased. I thought you wanted to get married."

"I did. Unfortunately, the bride-to-be is not of my choosing. I'm to marry Kathryn Grayson at exactly two o'clock. That is in precisely"-he glanced at the clock-"forty-five minutes."

Velvet's voice carried a higher pitch than normal. "Oh, my." Her hand moved down to the waist of her burgundy velvet traveling gown as if something fluttered in her stomach. "I believe I shall take that gla.s.s of sherry."

"I'll get it," Jason said. "I think I need one, too." He moved to the sideboard, lifted the stopper off a crystal decanter, and poured them both a gla.s.s.

Lucien began to pace. "I still can't quite believe it. That conniving, deceiving little baggage trapped me as neatly as you please. She played the sharper as if she were born to it, seduced me into marriage as if I were a callow boy, and there isn't a d.a.m.nable thing I can do about it."

He went on to tell them what had happened at the lodge, omitting a goodly bit of detail, Jason imagined, but saying simply that he and Lady Kathryn were discovered in a compromising situation. The lady's reputation was ruined, and the bishop had insisted they wed.

"She planned the entire b.l.o.o.d.y affair. After everything I've done to help her, it's d.a.m.nably hard to believe."

Velvet crossed to his side, rested a small gloved hand on his forearm. "She was frightened, Lucien. She was desperately afraid she would have to go back to that terrible place. She did the only thing she could think of to protect herself."

"I would have protected her. I would have seen to her safety, if she had simply trusted me. Instead the little fool has ruined both of our lives."

"Maybe it won't be so bad," Jason put in. "I didn't want to marry Velvet-at least I didn't think so at the time. Now I'm d.a.m.ned glad I did. It was the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"This isn't the same and you know it. Kathryn and I are not suited to each other in the least. And even if I wanted to marry the chit-which I don't-I want nothing to do with the sort of female who would use her body as a weapon to get what she wants." He walked to the sideboard to refill his snifter of brandy, and Jason thought he had rarely seen his friend so near the edge of his control.

"You aren't a man who is easily duped. Surely there is some way out, if that is truly your wish."

Lucien ground down on his jaw. "She's a clever little wench. She had it planned right down to the instant. She is lucky her b.l.o.o.d.y uncle arrived on time, or I would have quite properly dispensed with her maidenhead. I don't believe she would be feeling so smug if I had taken her as well and thoroughly as I intended."

Jason watched him closely, a.s.sessing the bitterness that blazed in those fierce, dark eyes. "You could always send her back," he said softly. "If you told them she was truly insane, there is no way they could force you to wed her."

"Jason!" Velvet gasped. "What are you saying?"

"I'm telling him the truth. He could send her away and be done with it. One word is all it would take." Jason studied his friend's features, certain of his response.

Lucien drained the contents of his snifter, his fingers tight around the bowl of the gla.s.s, anger making the movement jerky. A tic appeared in his cheek. Still, he shook his head. "I can't do that. No one deserves that sort of punishment. I'm d.a.m.ned if I'll make this a legitimate marriage, but I refuse to let Dunstan hurt her any more than he has already."

Velvet sagged in relief. "Have you spoken to her? What does Kathryn have to say?"

"We've spoken only briefly, as the bishop allowed us to do. In a year, Kathryn will be one and twenty, able to marry without her uncle's consent. According to her, an annulment at that time would give us both the chance to marry as we wish. Unfortunately, Lady Allison is hardly likely to wait, considering the embarra.s.sment she and her family will suffer-thanks to Kathryn's deceitful machinations."

Velvet tilted her head back to look up at him, Lucien so much taller she looked like a pixie standing at his feet. "If Allison loves you, she'll wait. She'll forgive your momentary indiscretion and she'll wait for you to marry her."

Lucien eyed her darkly. "If Jason had been found in a pa.s.sionate embrace with a half-naked woman, would you have forgiven him?"

Velvet glanced away. "It would have been hard. My pride would not have wanted me to do so, but I might have, if I had believed it was me he truly loved and not her."

Lucien scoffed. "Well, I am not in love with Allison Hartman and she is not in love with me. I was, however, looking forward to a long and comfortable life with her as my wife-a life that has now been ruthlessly stolen from me. Kathryn Grayson is responsible for that misdeed and I shall never forgive her for it."

The hard look on his face confirmed his words. The path Kathryn Grayson had chosen would not be an easy one. Jason thought that perhaps the girl had made a mistake in choosing to match wits with the Marquess of Litchfield. Lucien was the best friend a man could have-and the very worst enemy.

"It's nearly two," Jason said, finishing the last of his drink. "Knowing you as I do, I'm sure you don't want to be late for your own wedding."

Lucien's mouth curled ruthlessly. "On the contrary," he said. "I see no reason to rush, and I am in need of another brandy. If that means I shall be late, then the lady will simply have to wait."

Jason inwardly groaned, feeling even more anxious for Kathryn Grayson. If he knew his friend, the next year would be h.e.l.l on earth for the woman who had betrayed him.

ELEVEN.

Candles burned in the small ivy-covered stone chapel behind the castle, lighting the centuries-old stained-gla.s.s window above the altar at the far end of the room. Kathryn listened to the wind howling outside the walls and an icy shiver ran through her. A loose shutter banged incessantly against the window and a leafless branch scratched at the mullioned panes, grating on her nerves.

Dressed in an elegant cream silk gown trimmed at the neck and sleeves with heavy gold lace, Kathryn stood next to Aunt Winnie, awaiting the arrival of her groom, her stomach in such turmoil she feared she would be sick.

She nervously adjusted her wide panniers, which felt as if they were fashioned of stone instead of whalebone and had a stranglehold on her waist. Sweet G.o.d, where was he? The marquess should have been there ten minutes ago, but there was still no sign of him. She tried not to glance at the heavy oak door, but her eyes strayed in that direction time and again.

Aunt Winnie patted her hand. "He'll be here, my dear. You mustn't worry."