Silk And Steel Part 18

"It isn't all that far," the marquess was saying, "but we shall have to leave early if we intend to get there before the children are put to bed."

"All right. I'll make certain Aunt Winnie knows what time you wish to depart."

He smiled again. "I'll see you a little before six, then."

Kathryn nodded. She watched his graceful strides as he walked down the hall and felt a soft, sweet stirring in the area around her heart. He seemed different today, less hostile, more the man he was before they married. The moment he disappeared into his study, Kathryn turned and dashed upstairs to find Winnie and decide what she should wear.

Both of them were excited. Kathryn had never been to the extravagant mansion that was the palatial home of the Duke and d.u.c.h.ess of Carlyle. And it was Christmas, after all. Her life was different now. She meant to enjoy herself.

Wearing a deep red velvet gown over wide panniers, the top cut stylishly low, the sleeves fitted to the elbow then flaring out with layers of velvet-trimmed lace down past her wrists, Kathryn checked the mirror one last time. She smoothed the chestnut curls f.a.n.n.y had fashioned at the side of her neck, adjusted the heart-shaped patch at the corner of her mouth, and headed down the stairs.

The marquess was waiting at the bottom. He glanced up when he saw her and something dark and hot flickered in his eyes. It was a look she had noticed of late, on more than one occasion, but she had told herself she was mistaken.

If he wanted her, he would have come back to her room. He would have made love to her again. And he wouldn't have agreed to the annulment. Still, as she descended the last few stairs and took the arm he offered, there was no mistaking the hunger in his eyes as he a.s.sessed her from top to bottom, or the warmth of his kiss as he lifted her white-gloved hand and pressed his mouth against the back.

"You look lovely, my lady."

She moistened her lips, unnerved by that silver spark in his eyes that seemed to burn right through her clothes. "Thank you, my lord." He continued to watch her, wearing a lazy half-smile, and Kathryn didn't realize she was holding her breath until he turned away, fixing his attention once more on the stairs.

In a gown of pale blue fur-trimmed silk, her blond hair piled in ringlets atop her head, Winifred Montaine DeWitt looked only a few years older than Kathryn. Lucien smiled at her with obvious pride and genuine affection. "I am the luckiest of men this night, escorting two of England's most beautiful women."

A slight flush rose into Winnie's cheeks. She glanced from her nephew to Kathryn and back, and seemed pleased with whatever it was she saw. "I think we are the lucky ones, my lord. Don't you agree, my dear?"

Kathryn smiled, suddenly lighthearted. She stared up at Lucien, felt the pull of those intense black eyes. "Indeed I do, Lady Beckford. To be in company with such a handsome man... fortune has smiled sweetly upon us this night."

Lucien seemed pleased. She wondered again at his change of mood, but decided to simply enjoy it. Accepting his arm while Winnie took the other, she let him guide her out the door and help them both climb into the carriage. They arrived by the light of an early rising moon, bowling down a long, tree-lined, oyster-sh.e.l.l drive up to the front of the house.

An elegant mansion surrounded by a seemingly endless landscape of open fields and forests, Carlyle Hall was even more magnificent than she had imagined. Palladian in design and built of Portland stone, its lovely bal.u.s.trades and stylish pedimented windows glittered with dozens of beeswax candles.

A pair of red-liveried footmen stood at the doors leading into the house, men equal in height and build and wearing identical silver bagwigs. Walking next to Lucien into the entry, she paused beneath the painted ceilings to greet their host and hostess.

"We're so glad you could come," Velvet said, leaning over to buss Kathryn's cheek. "You look beautiful."

Kathryn swept into a curtsy. "Thank you, Your Grace."

Velvet waved away the formal greeting with a smile. "None of that. Not tonight. Tonight we are family and we are here to celebrate the season."

Oddly touched, Kathryn felt the unexpected sting of tears. She hadn't had a family for so long. She hadn't realized how desperately lonely she had been until that very moment. A memory arose of the Christmas she had faced last year, locked away in the madhouse, eating a supper of boiled potatoes, a piece of coa.r.s.e rye bread, and a paper-thin slice of mutton-a special holiday treat instead of the gruel that was her usual fare. She thought of sitting in the dirty straw on the floor of her cell, missing her father and mother, weeping for the family she would never see again.

"Kathryn... ?" Lucien said softly. "Are you all right?"

She blinked, realized she had tears in her eyes, and saw that Velvet and Lucien were both looking at her with worried expressions. "I'm sorry. For a moment my mind wandered back to..." She tried to smile, faltered. "It wasn't a pleasant memory."

Lucien slid an arm around her waist, drawing her back against him. He kissed the top of her head. "You're free of those memories now. Tonight we'll make new memories. Happy memories."

"Lucien is right," Velvet firmly agreed. "Tonight will be the start of happy Christmas memories from how on." She looked lovely with her fiery hair just lightly powdered, her small, trim figure displayed perfectly in a gown of amber silk, the shiny gold trim matching the golden flecks in her deep brown eyes.

Kathryn discreetly brushed away a tear. "You're a wonderful friend, Velvet Sinclair."

Velvet squeezed her hand. "We are lucky to have each other. Go on now and join the rest of the guests. The children have been wanting to meet their uncle Lucien's new wife."

As she had been looking forward to meeting them.

With a last brief smile, Velvet returned to her duties as hostess, joining her husband to greet the new arrivals while Lucien led Kathryn into the Oak Room, a dark, richly paneled salon at the rear of the house. Beneath her feet, floors warmed by thick Persian carpets gleamed in the light of the candles. The ceiling was fashioned in a crisscross pattern of carved oak timbers, the walls covered with exquisite red-flocked paper.

Obviously chosen for its warm, cheery ambiance, the room had been decorated floor to ceiling with red-berried holly and mistletoe. Evergreen boughs draped over an oak-manteled hearth, where the huge Yule log waited to be lit.

The moment they entered the room, a small boy dressed in a miniature version of the fashionable habit a la francaise that included royal-blue velvet knee breeches and a matching blue velvet coat, raced up to greet them. Alexander Jason Sinclair, a diminutive version of his tall, handsome father with thick, dark coffee-brown hair and bright blue eyes, made a perfectly correct formal bow.

Then he grinned. "Uncle Lucien! I was hoping you would come." Lucien went down on one knee and the little boy raced into his arms.

"It's Christmastide, isn't it? Of course I would come."

Little Mary Jane, gowned in pale pink silk over tiny panniers, toddled up just then, her hair a vivid red, much brighter than her mother's auburn locks. She pulled her finger out of her mouth, looked at Lucien and giggled, curling her rosebud lips into an irresistible smile. Lucien kissed her cheek and began the introductions.

"Alex and Mary-this is your new aunt Kathryn."

Kathryn's head whipped toward him, her eyes wide in stunned disbelief. It was one thing for him, a longtime family friend, to use the affectionate pretend t.i.tle of a relative, and another thing altogether for her. In less than a year, she would be leaving Castle Running. It was hardly fair to the children to let them form attachments.

The marquess simply smiled. "Say something, love. You'll frighten them if you merely stand there gaping."

The endearment washed over her and she nearly faltered again. Instead, she bent down and took each of the children's small hands. "It's a pleasure to meet you both. Your uncle Lucien has told me all about you. I know we shall become great friends."

Alexander giggled and looked up at her with adorable blue eyes, and Kathryn fell instantly in love.

"Just like his father," Lucien teased, accurately a.s.sessing the besotted look on her face. "Only four years old and already he has every woman he meets falling hopelessly in love with him."

Just like you, Kathryn thought, noticing several of the female guests who eyed the marquess as if he were a tasty hunk of meat. From beneath her lashes, Kathryn studied his handsome dark profile, admiring the perfectly carved planes and valleys. Yes... something was definitely different tonight, had been different since the moment she had seen him standing at the bottom of the stairs.

Perhaps it was simply the holiday season and had nothing at all to do with her. Still, his eyes returned to her again and again, and she couldn't stop the frantic little flutter that leapt in her stomach.

Kathryn felt a tug on her skirt and shifted her gaze back toward the floor. "I'm almost three," Mary said, holding up two of her pudgy little fingers.

Kathryn laughed and hugged her. "Yes, you are, sweetheart, but don't be too anxious to grow up. Time goes by all too quickly as it is."

Mary just grinned and dashed off to join her brother. Kathryn followed the child's movements as she darted in and out between the guests, the image turning backward, to another child, this one a little older, blond and blue-eyed, sharing a lonely Christmas with the inmates at St. Bart's.

She bit down on her bottom lip, wishing she could speak to Lucien about the child and ask for his help, fearful of what would happen should he refuse.

"You're doing it again, love. You look so much prettier when you're not frowning." He tipped her chin with his hand. "Let it go, Kathryn. Tonight belongs to the future, not the past."

She swallowed hard and nodded, knowing he was right. Tomorrow, she would deal with her problems, tonight was the eve before Christmas and she meant to enjoy herself.

Lucien watched his new wife as he introduced her to the small group of friends Jason had invited: Lord and Lady Balfour, the Earl and Countess of Briarwood, Winston Parminter, the famous London barrister, half a dozen others.

Kathryn had met his solicitor, Nathaniel Whitley, at Castle Running and seemed to like him very much. The Earl of Haversham, the d.u.c.h.ess's grandfather, had her laughing at tales of Velvet's misadventures and immediately put her at ease. After that, she seemed to relax and enjoy herself, slipping once more into the role of lady that she had been born to.

Standing next to Jason, Lucien watched her conversing with Aunt Winnie and the aging earl as she sampled an a.s.sortment of food from the vast array perched on a carved oak table that virtually groaned beneath the weight of its heavy burden: a perfectly browned roast goose, sweetbreads of veal, chicken frica.s.see, salmon with shrimp sauce, Florentine rabbits. There were kidney pies and meat pasties, b.u.t.tered carrots, turnips and parsnips, mince pies, gingerbread, candied fruits, and custards.

Kathryn had been eating as if she couldn't get enough ever since he had left her at the table. It bothered him to think of the days she had spent eating less than nothing in that h.e.l.lish hole of St. Bart's. Unconsciously a muscle tightened in his jaw.

"She's a beautiful woman," Jason said, following the path of his gaze.

"Yes, she is." Particularly tonight. With her hair swept up and soft dark curls at the side of her neck, she looked more beautiful than he had ever seen her. The deep red velvet gown brought out the highlights in her hair, and her small b.r.e.a.s.t.s formed delicate mounds that begged to be touched.

His body tightened painfully, reminding him how much he wanted her, and he forced his gaze away. "Since she has been living at the castle, she has regained a little of the weight she lost. And there is a glow in her cheeks that wasn't there before." He found himself smiling to think he'd had a hand in her transformation and turned to see his friend eyeing him strangely.

"All right, what's going on? I've been watching you all evening. Something's happened in that unfathomable brain of yours. Tell me what it is."

A corner of his mouth curved faintly. "I suppose you could say something has happened. I have finally come to grips with my situation. What happened at the lodge is over and done. The fact is, I am married. It is time to move on with my life, and that is exactly what I intend to do."

"Which means?"

"Put simply-I've decided to keep her. Kathryn thinks we are getting an annulment, but I have decided we are not."

Jason grinned. "So at last you have come to your senses."

"Perhaps I have. While I was recovering from that little scuffle I had at the tavern, I had time to do some thinking. It's a fact I'm in need of a wife, and no secret I'm attracted to Kathryn. I've come to the conclusion that the woman I'm married to will do as well as any, perhaps better than most. As you said, she is intelligent and strong. She comes from a n.o.ble family. In short, she is good breeding stock, and I believe she will make a fine mother for my children. Watching her tonight with Alex and Mary has made me even more certain."

"What about the fact she has interests in subjects of which you don't approve?"

Lucien shrugged. "She will have to give them up, of course. At any rate, once she is with child, she'll forget all that nonsense, settle down and behave as a proper wife should. It's time I had an heir and I mean to see it done as quickly as I can."

Jason looked as if he had his doubts, but didn't say so. "If Kathryn still wants an annulment, how do you plan to convince her?"

Lucien's gaze returned to his wife, who was laughing at something Lord Haversham said. "I don't. I intend to seduce her."

Jason laughed aloud, nearly spilling the mug of hot mulled wine he held in one big hand. "My friend, you never fail to amaze me. Wouldn't it be easier just to tell her you don't want to end the marriage?"

"It might be... if I were completely certain she would agree. However, since I am not, I shall have to go about it another way."

Jason's gaze swung to Kathryn, now joined by his wife and children. "Perhaps you are right. No use taking any chances."

No, indeed, Lucien thought. Kathryn was going to be his and soon. He wanted her in his bed, wanted to begin where he had left off the first time they had made love. Every time he looked at her, he remembered the way she had felt moving beneath him, the way her tight little pa.s.sage had gloved him so sweetly.

And now that his decision was made, he wanted her heavy with his child. It was amazing how much he looked forward to the day that happened.

Winnie Montaine DeWitt sipped syllabub from the crystal cup she held and tried to look nonchalant, but beneath her long pale lashes, her eyes were fixed on the mirror above the hearth. Within the ornate gilt frame, a handsome man with thick, silver-tipped brown hair and clear blue eyes she recognized as Nathaniel Whitley was staring at her from across the room, studying her with an intensity that was nearly frightening.

It was an odd sensation, watching Nat watch her. Standing at the angle she was, he didn't realize she could see him, that the way he looked at her made hot, intimate images appear in her mind. Memories she thought she had forgotten, the first time she had kissed him, or the day down by the stream when they had met in secret and he had asked her to marry him. Memories of how one look from the shy, gangly boy he was then could make her heart trip with longing.

Other impressions rose up, not of Nat as a boy, but Nat as a man, visions of how that kiss might have changed, how those beautiful sculpted lips would move over hers, kissing her in a way he hadn't before, how it might feel to have him touch her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, to taste them with his tongue, how it might feel to lie naked beside him.

Jerking her eyes from the mirror, she felt the heat in her cheeks and forced the images away, but she couldn't deny they had been there, and Winnie was ashamed.

"Well... Lady Beckford. I wondered if you might not be here this evening." Her mind had strayed. She hadn't seen him approach. He looked different now, harder, more unreachable than he had in the looking gla.s.s.

She raised her chin, tried to look at him down her nose, which wasn't easy since he was so much taller. "Mr. Whitley." It was all the greeting she could force past her lips. Every time she looked at him, she felt guilty for her wicked thoughts.

His gaze drifted down past her shoulders to the swell of bosom that rose above the bodice of her gown. It lingered there a moment, then returned to her face. "I trust you are enjoying yourself."

Winnie's hand fluttered nervously up to her throat. She hadn't missed the mockery in his voice, nor the hard look that turned his eyes the color of cold blue steel. "Yes... yes; of course I am. Why shouldn't I be?" But she wasn't, not really. Hadn't been since the moment she had spotted Nat Whitley in the small salon next door to the Oak Room in conversation with her nephew.

"I a.s.sure you, I wouldn't know," he said dryly. "When you were speaking to Lord Cullinworth a little while ago, it certainly appeared as if you were well entertained. He's in the marriage mart, I hear. An earl, no less, and wealthy in the extreme-qualities a woman of your discerning standards is bound to find attractive." His mouth curved up, but it wasn't really a smile. "The earl is a client of mine. Perhaps I can put in a good word for you if that is your wish."

Winnie bristled even more. "What are you talking about? I have no interest in Cullinworth or anyone else. And I resent the implication that I would pursue his lordship for his t.i.tle and fortune."

A fine dark brow arched up, but his eyes remained hard. "My apologies, then. But somehow I didn't get the impression you would be nearly so offended should his lordship wish to pursue a relationship with you as you were when I posed that suggestion."

Of all the gall! "It isn't at all the same and you know it!"

His attractive mouth went thin. "No; of course it isn't. My apologies, Lady Beckford." With a stiff bow, he turned away, walking across the room without a single look back.

Obviously he was still angry from their last encounter and now Winnie was angry, too. The nerve of the man! Had he actually expected her to engage in some sort of illicit affair? The more she thought about it, the madder it made her.

As usual, he hadn't brought his wife, not even at Christmastide. She wondered how the poor woman put up with such ill treatment.

She watched Nat join a small group of people cl.u.s.tered at a table near the rear of the salon, talking and laughing with Lord Briarwood's pretty auburn-haired daughter. It was impossible to imagine the cold, dispa.s.sionate man she had just spoken to as the same young man she had once thought she loved.

Still, there was something about him that stirred her. Something that made her heart beat crazily whenever he came near. She hated herself for it, but it seemed there was nothing she could do.

For the balance of the evening, she tried to ignore him, but time and again, her eyes would stray in his direction, or she would hear his rich baritone as he laughed with one of the women. Each time it happened, an unreasonable tug of jealousy reared up. When the Yule log was finally lit and the Sinclair children put to bed, she watched him take his leave, saying a brief good-night to the duke and d.u.c.h.ess before making his way out the door.

Restless, Winnie crossed the room that seemed empty without him and wandered out onto the terrace, desperate to feel the sobering bite of the cold December air. She rubbed her arms against the chill and yet she was grateful for it. Her body still felt hot and edgy from their earlier encounter. He was nothing but a rogue, an unscrupulous, unprincipled rake who cared about nothing but his own selfish interests.

But dear Lord she wanted him. She had never thought of herself as a woman of strong desires. Richard had been a kind, considerate sort of husband who came to her in the dark, left as soon as his needs were met, and ceased coming to her bed altogether once it was learned that she could not bear him a child.

She had never thought of Richard in the way she had once thought of Nat-the way she thought of him now-with a hot sweet yearning that burned through her blood. She was just as wicked, just as sinful as he was.

Winnie shivered. She might be angry at Nathaniel Whitley, but in truth, she was far more angry at herself.

SIXTEEN.

The days of Christmas slipped past. Happy days, warm, bright, cheerful days like those Kathryn had known as a child. Kathryn gifted Aunt Winnie with a lovely cashmere shawl and Lucien a finely engraved, beautiful silver snuffbox with his initials in gold lettering on the top. Lucien surprised her with an exquisite emerald and diamond necklace so lovely it took her breath away.

"Oh, my lord, I couldn't possibly accept this-it is far too valuable. In less than a year I'll be leaving and-"

"That is then. This is now. I'm giving you the necklace as a friend, and I want you to keep it." But he wasn't looking at her as a friend. His eyes were dark and hot and they made her stomach quiver.

She found herself wetting her lips, her fingers curling into her palms to keep them from reaching out to touch him. When he smiled, his mouth looked full and sensuous, and if she closed her eyes, she could feel those lips moving over hers, nibbling at the corners, kissing the side of her neck as he had done the night that they had made love. Heat rolled through her, pulled low in her belly.

The following day he took her for a sleigh ride over the freshly fallen snow. Beneath the thick fur lap robe she was warm and content, and Lucien was smiling. And everywhere they went, he watched her with those burning silver-black eyes.