Silk And Steel Part 15

"Yes, milord." The lanky boy headed off to do his master's bidding. Lucien watched Kathryn disappear into the woods, her dark red velvet riding habit flashing here and there between the trees. She was an excellent rider, he had discovered, and obviously enjoyed the out-of-doors. Why he decided to follow her he couldn't really say, only that he was curious where she might be going.

Since his return from London, he had been scrupulously avoiding her, which, he'd discovered, was no easy task. Kathryn had more energy than any two normal women. Wherever he went he stumbled upon her: in the breakfast parlor, though he arrived at an hour that was unfashionably early; in the library, where she holed up to read her d.a.m.nable medical texts; in the conservatory, where she had planted a small patch of herbs; and now here in the stable.

Each time he saw her, he would notice something new about her, the way the dark centers of her eyes would expand the moment he appeared, the way the wind tossed wisps of her hair so appealingly around her face, the way her small b.r.e.a.s.t.s moved beneath the bodice of her gown. Each time he saw her, his desire for her grew, yet he was determined to ignore it.

Still, he was curious. She was his wife, at least for the present. What she did reflected on him and was, therefore, his business until they parted. There were a number of handsome young rogues in the village, and he had experienced firsthand her pa.s.sionate nature. He'd be d.a.m.ned if he would allow her to trifle with one of them.

He followed the tracks into the woods and out into the open field beyond. Instead of heading into the village as he had been certain they would, the tracks angled off to the west toward a small parcel of land that was occupied by one of his tenants. When he topped the rise, he saw her horse out in front of the whitewashed, thatched-roof cottage, her groom holding the reins while she went inside.

Lucien watched from a cl.u.s.ter of trees on the knoll, saw her come out of the house wearing a smile and clutching a cloth sack in her hand. She tied it behind her saddle and the groom helped her remount the little sorrel mare. She said something to the gangly young man who accompanied her, wheeled the horse, dug in her small booted heels, and made a mad dash up the hill, the groom trying frantically to catch up with her.

They were racing, he saw as she flashed by him with a burst of speed, and he felt the pull of a smile. He could hear her laughter echoing through the woods and it was obvious how much she was enjoying herself. For an instant, he wished he could take up the challenge she had posed to the groom and race after her. Instead he reined the stallion back onto the trail and down to the house to discover what Kathryn was about.

Sarah Whitelawn came to the door at his knock, a little blond girl peeking around her skirts. Lucien made the appropriate greeting, then asked after Kathryn.

"Her ladyship were bringin' me babe a potion," Sarah Whitelawn replied. "Little Andy'd been sick with the colic for nearly a week when I chanced upon your lady on the path to the village. She were kind enough to offer her help."

Lucien frowned. "If the child needed a remedy, there is an apothecary in the village. Why did you not merely go to him?"

"Oh, I did, milord. Didn't seem ta help and cost three shillings, ta boot." She smiled, showing a hole where one of her eye teeth was missing. "Her ladyship's potion done the trick. Said it were made of angelica seeds, honey, and water. She brought me a bit more today, just in case it were ta come back again."

Lucien said nothing to that. Thank G.o.d the d.a.m.nable stuff had done a better job with the babe than the one she had concocted for Muriel Roth.

Lucien stepped back from the porch. "Thank you, Mrs. Whitelawn. Be sure to tell Terence if he needs any help repairing that broken plough shed, I'll be happy to send over my cooper."

The woman smiled. "I'll tell 'im, milord."

Lucien nodded in farewell and swung up into the saddle, heading back up the hill toward the castle. The sun was warm on his back across the fields, but it was shady and colder in the shadows of the trees in the forest. The stallion followed the winding path, heading deeper into the woods, then a flash of dark red on the ground up ahead caught his eye.

Worry splintered through him. He urged the horse into a gallop, racing over the uneven trail, saw Kathryn lying on the ground in a heap of red velvet, her jaunty little hat a few feet away. Her eyes were closed and there was no sign of the groom or Kathryn's little mare.

The beating of his heart jolted up another notch. He swung down from the stallion before the horse had come to a stop and raced to where she lay beside a fallen tree. Her cloak had been spread over her, but the ground was so cold she shivered. Her eyes came open at the sound of his rapid footfalls crunching on the thin layer of snow.

"Kathryn! ForG.o.dsake, what happened?"

She gave him a valiant smile. "My fault. We were racing. There was a branch I didn't see. Knocked the wind out of me and scared poor Joey half to death. I sent him back to the castle for help."

He pulled off his kidskin gloves as he knelt beside her. "Dammit, you are smart enough to know better than to be racing in a place like this. It's too b.l.o.o.d.y dangerous."

Some of the pallor left her cheeks, which flushed a soft shade of rose. "I know. We were just having so much fun."

Lucien felt a twinge of irritation. Fun riding with her groom instead of with him. He was her husband, yet he enjoyed none of the pleasures that went along with the dubious t.i.tle. He tamped the feeling down. "Let's see if there is anything broken."

"I don't think there is, but I jarred my ribs a good bit. And I must have sprained my ankle."

Lucien gently made his way up each of her arms, looking for lacerations, checking for fractures, then he carefully probed her rib cage, eliciting a sharply sucked-in breath. "You may have cracked a rib. We had better wait for the wagon before we try to move you."

"Perhaps they are only bruised. They don't really hurt enough to be broken."

He nodded, hoping she was right, thinking there weren't many women who would know that much about ribs. Thinking how slender her body felt beneath his hands, and how hard it was to stop touching her before he reached those small, enticing, cone-shaped b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "Let's take a look at that ankle."

Reaching for the hem of her heavy velvet riding skirt, he raised it, her cloak, and several layers of petticoats up to her knees, trying to ignore the feminine display of lacy garters and white silk stockings.

"It's the left one," she said with none of the maidenly embarra.s.sment he would have encountered with another woman. Unlacing her leather riding boot, he gently pulled it off and couldn't help noticing her pretty stockinged feet.

"It's badly swollen." He moved the ankle gently, testing it but trying not to hurt her. "I don't think it's broken."

The wagon rumbled around a corner in the distance, Aunt Winnie on the seat next to Bennie Taylor while young Joey Hampton, Kathryn's groom, rode in the back.

"Lucien!" Winnie leapt to her feet so quickly she almost fell out of the wagon. "Thank heavens you are here. How is she? Is she all right?" The wagon creaked to a halt and he went to help her down.

"She's injured her ribs and sprained an ankle. We'll have Dr. Fredericks take a look at her as soon as we get home."

Kathryn tried to sit up, hissed as pain shot into her ribs, and lay back down. "I don't need a doctor. If you'll wrap my ankle in some snow and I stay off it, I'll be fine in a couple of days. We can bandage my ribs when I get home."

Lucien frowned. " 'Physician, heal thyself'? If that is what you are thinking, my lady, you may simply think again."

" 'G.o.d heals and the doctor takes the fee,' " she tossed back to him. "I tell you I shall be fine."

His lips twitched. He couldn't help it. She was a saucy little baggage. "You're my wife. As long as that fact remains, you are my responsibility-hence you will do as I say."

Kathryn didn't argue, just set her mouth at a mulish angle and let him lift her up. Her arms slid around his neck and the moment they did, her eyes locked with his. Something pa.s.sed between them, something hot and intense that had nothing at all to do with Kathryn's injury and everything to do with the last time he had carried her that way, over to the sofa in the lodge where he meant to, very slowly and quite thoroughly, ravish her beautiful body.

Kathryn quickly glanced away. Inside his breeches, he went hard. Lucien silently cursed. Setting his jaw against the throbbing in his groin, he carted her over to the wagon, gently laid her down on the pallet of blankets in the rear, and they set off for the house.

Lucien couldn't wait to get her there. With every pa.s.sing day, his vow to ignore Kathryn Grayson was getting harder and harder to keep. With a last glance at the wagon, he grimly gripped the reins and swung up on the back of his horse.

THIRTEEN.

Jason Sinclair reined up in front of the huge stone castle just three miles west of Carlyle Hall. Swinging down from the saddle, he handed the reins of his big black gelding to the tall, thin footman who rushed down from the porch.

"Evenin', Your Grace," the young man said, careful to stay back from Blackie's dancing hooves.

"Don't worry, lad, he'll settle down in a minute. Had a good run across the fields, but it never seems to be enough. Take good care of him, will you?"

"Aye, sir." As the footman led the horse off toward the stables at the rear of the house, Jason climbed the wide stone stairs leading into the entry, eager for his evening of gaming with Lucien.

As often as they could manage, the two men met to play chess, sometimes at Carlyle Hall, tonight at Castle Running. Busy with some important papers he'd had to finish, Jason had sent word that he wouldn't be able to join the marquess for supper as he usually did, but was still planning to arrive for chess. Though the air was chill, the sky remained clear, lit by a big silver moon and a bright scattering of stars, making the shortcut he took through the fields easy to traverse.

He'd thought about postponing the game, since he would have to be late, but Velvet had been worried about Lucien and concerned for his bride, and she was determined Jason should discover how things were progressing between the pair.

With a brief nod at the butler, Jason continued past him down the hall to Lucien's study. The door was open, the marquess seated behind his desk, sipping a gla.s.s of brandy.

It was obviously not his first.

"For a man who is usually a moderate drinker, you are certainly becoming a sot." Jason grinned. "Then again, perhaps I should pour you another-you'll have a deuce of a time beating me at chess."

Lucien grumbled something beneath his breath, set the half-full snifter back down on his desk. "This is only my second gla.s.s. I am hardly foxed, and tonight I intend to trounce you quite soundly."

Jason glanced toward the chessboard, the beautiful carved ivory and ebony pieces waiting on a mother-of-pearl inlaid black chessboard on a table before the fire.

"All right, then, let's get to it... though first I believe I shall join you in that drink." He moved to the sideboard while Lucien settled himself in a comfortable leather chair on one side of the board.

"How is Velvet?" Litchfield asked.

"Busy with holiday preparations. The children love Christmastide, and it is certainly my wife's favorite time of year. Her grandfather has been regaling us with tales of family holidays past. It's amazing the way the earl can remember what happened twenty years ago, but not what happened at supper the night before."

Lucien nodded. He had always liked the aging Earl of Haversham, Velvet's grandfather, even if he was growing more and more forgetful. "My aunt has been muttering about my lack of holiday spirit. Now that my wedding to Allison is a thing of the past, Aunt Winnie grows eager to entertain. I suppose I shall have to give in to her nagging and allow her to plan a few festivities."

"Sounds like a good idea."

Lucien took a sip of his drink. "Lately, she's been a bit out of sorts. I imagine it is simply the holidays and perhaps missing her late husband. It is her first Christmas here at the castle. Perhaps it would help if we did some decorating, gave the place a bit of cheer."

Jason smiled. "I'm sure it would, and your wife might enjoy it as well."

Lucien's long-fingered hand paused in the act of lifting the ebony p.a.w.n he was about to move, the white lace on his cuff draping gracefully over the piece he held several inches above the board. "Kathryn is my wife in name only. What she would or wouldn't enjoy is of no concern to me."

Jason wisely ignored that. "How is she?"

He shrugged as if he didn't really care, but a slight tension crept into his shoulders. "She took a bad spill riding last week. Sprained her ankle and bruised her ribs. Thankfully, she is very nearly recovered." The edge of a smile touched his lips. "She is a feisty little baggage. Quite an accomplished rider. Took the spill racing her groom through the woods. Witless thing to do, and you may be certain I told her so. Still, she was quite a sight with her red skirts flying and that young groom racing along in her dust."

Jason smiled and took a sip of his drink. "From what I've seen, the lady has any number of interesting qualities."

"I suppose that's true."

"But still, you are determined to end the marriage."

Lucien moved another of his p.a.w.ns out two s.p.a.ces. "We are not at all well suited."

Jason countered the move with an up-and-over jump of his ivory horse. "You want her," he said casually. "I can see it in your eyes whenever you look at her."

Lucien's gaze found Jason's across the chessboard. It suddenly looked hard as steel. "The woman duped me. She made a fool out of me in front of half of England. Do you actually believe I can simply forget that?"

"She was desperate. Perhaps in her situation, you would have done the same."

Lucien made no comment, but his fingers tightened around the bishop he slid out through the opening he had created on the board.

"You told me when I married Velvet and refused to consummate the marriage that I was a fool. You said if she belonged to you, she would be spending her nights in your bed. Well, now I am saying those words to you."

Lucien's mouth went thin. "The woman betrayed me, dammit. For all I know she is insane. ForG.o.dsake, man, the woman escaped from a madhouse!"

A small gasp sounded at the door and both men turned in unison to see Kathryn standing in the opening clad in a blue quilted wrapper, her hair unbound and hanging down past her shoulders. Her hands were shaking, her face as pale as the white beeswax candle she carried.

"Kathryn!" Lucien stood up so quickly, the chessboard toppled over, scattering pieces across the parquet floor. He cursed roundly, but didn't stop walking, striding rapidly toward the door. By the time he reached it, Kathryn had fled, her footsteps ringing down the hall, her injured ankle giving the sound a slightly out-of-rhythm cadence.

"Kathryn!" Lucien quickened his pace, determined to catch her, his heavier footfalls pounding along behind her.

As the sounds began to fade, Jason sighed and came up from his chair. It was obvious the chess game was over. He frowned to recall the look of horror on Kathryn's pretty face and wondered at the upcoming encounter between the two. Walking out of the study, he made his way back to the entry where the tall, stoic Reeves handed him his hat and cloak.

Sounds drifted down from the upstairs hallway, but Reeves dutifully ignored them. The last thing Jason heard as he strode out to collect his horse was the sound of his friend's broad shoulder slamming against Kathryn's locked door.

Jason grinned and continued on toward the stable.

"Dammit, Kathryn, let me in!" Lucien swore a savage oath, but it didn't do the slightest bit of good. The door remained solidly closed and that made him even more determined. He slammed his shoulder against the heavy wood one last time, and the iron latch gave way, tore out of the frame on the opposite side, and he exploded into the room.

Kathryn gave a little gasp of surprise and took a step backward, her green eyes huge in the pale oval of her face. Ignoring the broken latch, which hung in useless pieces, he paused long enough to close the door, then continued toward his quarry, who stood facing him a few feet away, her chin up and her shoulders squared. In the flickering light of the candle, he could see there were tears on her cheeks.

His breath hissed out as something painful squeezed inside him. He thought of all Kathryn had suffered and hated himself in that moment for hurting her again.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, gently, moving toward her as if she were some small injured animal who might decide to bolt, which was exactly how she looked. "I didn't mean that, Kathryn. You know I didn't. I was angry. I have been since that night at the lodge. You tricked me and I resented you for it. But I didn't mean what I said. You are not the least insane."

Kathryn shook her head, brushed at the wetness on her cheeks. "But you aren't certain, are you? You don't really know for sure." She looked fragile and vulnerable, and a band of regret squeezed around his chest.

"Of course I know, dammit. If I really believed you were crazy there is no one on this earth who could have forced me to marry you." But she didn't look convinced and again he regretted his thoughtless words.

Big green eyes fixed on his face. "If I could only do it over..." She wiped at the wetness. "I'd never trap you the way I did. I was just so desperate... and I really believed it would all work out."

He moved slowly toward her and she didn't run, just let him pull her against him and enclose her in his arms. She turned her face into his shoulder, curled her slim fingers into the lapels of his coat, her slight body trembling with sobs.

"Hush," he whispered, stroking her hair. "What's done is over and past. Crying will do neither of us any good."

"I never meant to hurt you. You were the best friend I ever had."

But he wasn't simply a friend, he thought. He was her husband. And the feel of her slender woman's body, the scent of her soft perfume, reminded him how much he wanted her. Her hair felt like silk in his hands, and beneath her quilted wrapper her small b.r.e.a.s.t.s rubbed against the front of his white lawn shirt.

Lucien tilted her face up, used the pad of his thumb to brush away the last of her tears. "Come, love, please don't cry."

Her bottom lip trembled. Her lashes were spiky with moisture, her eyes softly luminous. Inside his breeches, he was hard and throbbing. Need pulsed in his blood, began to grow like a beast inside him. His thumb caressed her jaw, sliding back and forth, testing the smoothness of her skin. Her lips were full and slightly parted. He remembered how sweet they tasted that night at the lodge, how perfectly they molded with his own. He remembered the way she had melted against him, fitting her body to his like the missing piece of a puzzle.

He leaned toward her, bent his head and kissed her as he had wanted to do for so long. It was a gentle kiss, undemanding, and Kathryn's surprise lasted only an instant, then her eyes slowly closed, her arms crept around his neck, and her slender body pressed the length of his.

Lucien groaned. Heat unfurled in his belly. Desire sank into his bones. He told himself to end the kiss, that nothing but disaster could come of it, but his body wouldn't listen. Blood pounded in his ears and surged into his groin. Need rushed over him, hot and unbearably intense. Her small pointed b.r.e.a.s.t.s pillowed against his chest. He thought how sweetly erotic they felt, and his hold on rational thought eroded even further.

Lucien deepened the kiss and a soft sob of surrender escaped from Kathryn's throat. He ravaged her mouth, took her deeply with his tongue, and felt the silky glide of hers in response. Beneath her quilted wrapper, her nipples formed hard little buds and he wanted desperately to touch them. He pulled the sash on her robe, worked the b.u.t.tons down the front one by one, and eased the robe off her shoulders, letting it fall to a heap on the floor. She wore a night rail beneath, a thin white barrier that reminded him of her innocence and inflamed his pa.s.sions even more.

He wondered vaguely if she had been misused at St. Bart's, but her sweet return of his pa.s.sion said that she wasn't afraid, and the thought slid away on a wave of heat.

He kissed the side of her neck, then returned to her mouth, tilting his head first one way and then the other, wanting more, unable to get enough. He felt as if he were drowning, barely able to breathe, yet he refused to surface for air. His thigh pressed between her legs. Kathryn made a soft little gasp at the feel of his hardness against her and her fingers dug into his shoulders.

Heat rolled through him. He kissed her again, almost savagely, and Kathryn returned the kiss. His hand cupped a breast through the cotton of her gown, but it wasn't enough. He pulled the string on her night rail and slid it off her shoulders, ripping it a little in his haste to be rid of it. He kissed his way down her neck to the tight, trembling bud of her nipple, laved the end, then sucked the fullness into his mouth.

His loins were on fire. He shoved the nightgown off her hips to the floor, lifted her naked body into his arms, and strode over to the bed.