Silk And Steel Part 29

"But you believe that I will let you give up this child you so obviously love. That I will let you walk out of this house without your son."

Fat droplets rolled down her cheeks. "Don't... please. There is nothing in this world that I want less than to leave him, but he is your son, too. And I owe you. For everything that's happened, I owe you your son."

His chest hurt. He couldn't seem to drag in quite enough air. "I beg you, Kathryn, with each of your words I am burning in the h.e.l.l I have made."

She seemed not to have heard his words. "Are we still... is Luke of legitimate birth?"

His throat hurt. "There has been no annulment. I'll have no wife but you."

She stared at him a moment more, as if she memorized his features, then she glanced away. "I have to go," she said. "I have to leave."

Lucien stepped into her path, carefully cradling the child against his shoulder. "You can't leave, Kathryn. I won't let you." Something blurred his vision. His heart seemed a broken, useless thing as he struggled to find the right words.

"The day of the accident... everything went wrong. The constables came, then there was the terror of losing Michael. Everything was so confused, but that was the day I knew. For the very first time I knew. I saw you working over that child and I knew without doubt that I loved you. I saw how much of yourself you risked to save him, and in that moment I understood all that you are, all that you have taught yourself to be-and I loved you even more. I left because I didn't know how to tell you. How to say that I was wrong." He looked down, saw that his hands were shaking. "I nearly lost my mind without you, Kathryn. You thought that I didn't need you, but you were wrong. I love you, Kathryn, and I need you so d.a.m.ned much."

Her eyes looked huge and her face was bathed in tears. "Lucien..." She stepped toward him and he reached out to her, pulled her into his arms, holding her and his child hard against him and fighting the tears that burned to escape.

"I've missed you every day, every hour," he whispered against her hair. "I love you, Kathryn. I love you more than life itself and I don't want you to leave."

Kathryn wept then, deep, wracking sobs that tore into his heart and threatened to undo him completely. He stroked her hair and whispered how much he loved her over and over again. For long minutes they just stood there, two people who had suffered too long and too much, holding the beautiful child who had brought them back together.

"I'll never let you go again," he said.

"I don't want to go," she whispered. "I never did. I love you, Lucien. I love you so much." She cupped his cheek in her hand and looked up at him with a soft, sad smile. "This is where I always wake up. Night after night I dreamed of you saying those words and then I wake up and discover it is only an illusion."

He bent his head and very softly kissed her. "I promise you I am very real. From now on, I shall make certain that all your dreams come true." His eyes ran over her face, drinking in the elegant lines, the curve of her soft full lips. "As soon as you are ready, my love, I intend to show you how very real I am."

Kathryn's cheeks flushed a bit, but just then the baby stirred and awakened, interrupting the sensual moment. Kathryn stepped back to accept the squirming bundle and Lucien handed the child into its mother's care.

"Are you certain?" she asked, gazing up at him with only a flicker of doubt. "If you meant those things you said, this is the last chance you'll ever have to get rid of me."

His heart felt suddenly weightless, seemed to take flight inside his chest. "Then I suppose we shall be stuck with each other forever."

Kathryn broke into the most beautiful smile he had ever seen and he thought that no memory he held of her had ever done her justice. And no person or thing would ever come between them again.

There would be problems, he knew. Once the constable's office discovered Kathryn was in residence once more at the castle, they would arrive with questions about her untimely departure. The attempt on Dunstan's life had never been resolved and, though no other attempts had been made, the case remained open and Kathryn was still a suspect.

But none of that mattered. Not anymore. Kathryn was home and safe, and he meant to see that she stayed that way. No matter what it took, Lucien vowed he would protect her.

He never wanted to lose her again.

The storm heightened. Bright slashing shards of lightning ripped across the landscape and thunder shook the windows in the towering stone walls of the castle. A fierce March wind howled into the quaking branches of the trees.

In the drawing room of the master's suite, gowned in deep green silk, Kathryn sat across from Lucien at a small round table draped in white linen, her hair unbound as he had requested, sipping the last remaining drops of wine from a crystal goblet that shook faintly in her hand.

She had yet to see little Michael, who was visiting the Sinclair children at Carlyle Hall, but the baby had been put to sleep hours ago, and the intimate supper she had shared with Lucien in the marquess's suite was now ended. Over an elegant meal of roast partridge and creamed whiting that Cook had prepared in honor of her return, Kathryn had told her husband of the year she had spent in St. Ives, while he had recounted the months of his futile search for her.

Though Lucien had glossed over his own personal pain, the depth of his suffering was obvious from the lengths he had gone to in order to find her. Kathryn had cried to think she had caused him so much anguish. It had simply never occurred to her that he might care enough to be so badly hurt.

As supper progressed, topics turned to her uncle and the crime that had been committed. Lucien gently explained that the authorities would most likely approach her again with questions, but no matter what happened, he promised to keep her safe. This time, Kathryn believed him.

They spoke of Aunt Winnie, who had provided the single note of happiness Lucien had known during the terrible year of their separation.

"My aunt is happily married to Nat Whitley and living at his town house in London. I think she understood better than anyone why you had to leave, but she never gave up hope that you would return."

Kathryn caught a tiny tear with the end of her finger. "I hurt so many people. I never meant to, Lucien. I thought by leaving I was doing the best thing for everyone."

He reached for her hand, brought it to his lips. "All of those sorrows are past. We have two glorious children and a bright future ahead of us. That is all that matters."

Kathryn smiled at him through a mist of tears. Lucien was right. The present was all that mattered, and a future that would begin tonight, she fervently hoped-in her husband's ma.s.sive bed.

His white linen napkin looked stark against his dark hand as he tossed it on the table beside his plate, moved behind her chair, and helped her to her feet.

"I imagine you are tired," he said, but his eyes said something different, as they had all through the meal or at least so Kathryn had believed. He was dressed impeccably, in a silver-trimmed black velvet coat, matching waistcoat, and breeches. Silver threads edged the fine lace at his cuff and draped over the backs of his hands.

Kathryn studied him from beneath her lashes. "Perhaps I should be tired, my lord, after such an eventful day, but in truth... I am not tired in the least."

Something moved over his features, tightening the finely carved lines, the beautifully sculpted planes and valleys. "I realize a great deal has happened in the year we've been apart. You've birthed a child. I know very little about that sort of thing, but-"

"Do you want me, Lucien?" Her gaze met his, seeking the truth. Perhaps she had been wrong. She was a mother now, with changes to her body. Perhaps he felt differently about her.

Lightning cracked outside the window, outlining the subtle curve of his lips. "Do I want you? I've wanted you every day since you left the castle. Today has been the happiest day of my life-and a total living h.e.l.l. From the instant you walked through that door, I've wanted to kiss you senseless. It's all I can do not to tear away your clothes, drag you down on the floor, and make wild, insatiable love to you. I want to be inside you so badly I ache with it."

Kathryn's stomach contracted at the hot sensations flooding in. Reaching out a shaky hand, she rested it against his cheek. "Would you kiss me, Lucien?"

His eyes, black as pitch, seemed to burn with a silver light. He tipped her head back with his fingers, the delicate lace on his cuff brushing softly against her cheek. Just a feather-light brush of lips, the most innocent of touches, but the moment his mouth came down on hers, desire flared between them like a jagged bolt of lightning and both of them were lost. Lucien kissed her chin, her eyes, her nose, then took her lips in a hot, devouring kiss that had Kathryn clinging to his shoulders. He kissed his way down her throat, trailed hot, damp kisses across the bare skin above her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

Need overwhelmed her. She wanted to touch him, hold him, wanted to see him naked as he had so often been in her dreams. Sliding her trembling hands beneath his black velvet coat, she urged it off his shoulders, worked the silver b.u.t.tons on his waistcoat, and helped him slide it off, as well. She drew off his snowy stock and tossed it away, then trembled at the powerful muscles expanding beneath his shirt.

All the while he kissed her, deeply, thoroughly, almost savagely, while his long dark fingers fumbled with the b.u.t.tons at the back of her gown. With a m.u.f.fled curse, he tore the last two recalcitrant offenders away. Sliding the gown and her chemise off her shoulders, he bared her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, then paused and lifted his head to look at her, his eyes glinting in the ragged patch of moonlight spilling in through the mullioned windows.

Kathryn couldn't breathe.

"You are even more beautiful than I remembered," he said softly, reverently, reaching out to gently cup a breast.

Kathryn moaned as he bent his dark head to lave first one and then the other. Heat boiled through her and Kathryn arched toward him, her head falling back as he took the plumpness into his mouth. Faint little panting sounds slipped from her throat and her fingers curled into the front of his full-sleeved white shirt. He suckled her nipple and fire seemed to lick downward, into the very core of her.

"Lucien. Dear G.o.d..." When he kissed her again, her fingers slid into his hair, dislodging the ribbon that held it in place and letting the heavy black strands fall free.

Lucien unfastened the tabs on her panniers, shoved her gown and chemise past her hips to her feet, deftly knelt and removed her slippers, then swung her up in his arms. Kathryn leaned her head against his shoulder as he strode out of his private drawing room through the door leading into his ma.s.sive bedchamber.

Wearing only her pink satin garters and white silk stockings, she found herself perched on the edge of the bed, her legs slightly parted and Lucien kneeling between them.

"Open yourself to me, Kathryn," he softly commanded, finding her feminine core and beginning to stroke her. "Let me love you as I have imagined a thousand times since you have been gone."

"Lucien... please... surely you don't mean to..." She gasped as he urged her back on the bed and lifted her stocking-clad legs onto his shoulders. Kathryn quivered at the feel of his mouth and tongue on her most sensitive parts, at the heat and overwhelming sensations. Her hands fisted in his hair and she cried out his name, writhing upward, wavering on the edge of control, but Lucien was relentless. With skillful care, he brought her to climax, forcing the cry of his name from her lips.

He silenced her with a ravaging kiss, coming up over her as he buried himself deeply inside. He filled her completely, and the snug, heavy feeling of rightness was so profound, so exquisite, Kathryn felt tears burn the backs of her eyes. Out and then in, deep, forceful strokes that reached her very core and set off hot waves of pleasure that rippled and grew. Kathryn bit down on her bottom lip and clung to his neck as she surged nearer and nearer to climax.

Dear G.o.d, Lucien! She had missed him so much, loved him so long, and she had been so desperately lonely.

Release broke over her like a warm summer storm, drenching her in sweet silvery rain. Kathryn's fingers dug into the muscles across his shoulders as he reached his own release, his body going rigid, straining forward, then relaxing, his forehead coming to rest against her own.

She could feel his smile like a gentle ray of sun. "I love you, Kathryn. Don't ever leave me again."

Kathryn slowly shook her head. "No, my love. I promise I never will."

The Earl of Dunstan sat in the drafty rear salon of Dunstan Manor reading an article in the London Chronicle. It was a small item he almost skimmed over, one that mentioned the return of a certain lord's wife who had gone missing for nearly a year. A lengthy stay "on the Continent," the Marquess of Litchfield had claimed, was all that had kept his wife away. It had nothing in the least to do with the fact the woman had left under a cloud of suspicion that she might be guilty of the attempted murder of her uncle.

Douglas ground his jaw, anger boiling through him in great torrential waves. Might be guilty? Of course the chit was guilty! She loathed the very sight of him. She had discovered his plans for her overprotective husband and she meant to insure they failed.

Douglas scoffed. Well, the chit hadn't managed to kill him, but she had succeeded in wrecking his life. Thanks to Kathryn's defiance and cunning, he now lived in near solitude on his crumbling Bedfordshire estate. His plans for a brilliant political career lay in ashes at his feet and the scheme to marry his daughter to a man of power had disintegrated even before it had had time to mature.

Douglas crumpled the newsprint in his hand and hurled it into the fire. d.a.m.n her! d.a.m.n her to b.l.o.o.d.y perdition!

Shoving to his feet, he strode out of the room and down the hall, feeling the chill of the grim old house the moment he left the fire. With coal at a premium, they couldn't afford to heat the whole b.l.o.o.d.y place, and even if they tried, the house was in such ill repair the warmth would simply escape through the cracks in the walls.

"Ludlow! Ludlow, where are you?"

The butler scurried from around the corner, wearing mittens and bundled in a blanket that wrapped around his coat and breeches.

"Yes, milord?" The end of his nose was red and a slight shiver ran through his bony frame.

"Where is my daughter? I haven't seen her all morning."

"I believe she is still abed, milord. Shall I fetch her downstairs, sir?"

Douglas's irritation swelled. "Do so at once. And tell her she had better not keep me waiting." Another useless chit just like the rest, whining and complaining every minute since they'd left Milford Park. This one gave him nearly the grief Kathryn had done. If she didn't mend her ways and soon, he would marry her off just to get her out of his hair. He might not be able to snare a powerful young aristocrat, as he had once planned, but in her own odd way, Muriel was a tasty enough little morsel. He could surely barter her off for a goodly bit of coin to some wealthy old lecher who itched to get between a young girl's legs.

The object of his irritation descended the stairs in a pink quilted wrapper that appeared even more ghastly against the frizzled red of her unkempt hair.

"You are beginning to look like a slattern," Douglas told her. "Why are you still abed?"

"It's too cold to get up. This house is as drafty as a dungeon. The only time I'm warm is when I'm beneath the covers."

"If you are so fond of lying abed, perhaps I should find you a husband. I am certain Lord Tilbert would keep you warm enough beneath the blankets."

Muriel's face went pale, washing out some of her freckles. "Lord Tilbert? Lord Tilbert is a doddering old man. Surely you wouldn't consider marrying me off to a man like that?"

"I'll do whatever I have to, my girl, and you had better not forget it. In the meanwhile, I wanted to tell you I shall be leaving for a couple of days."

"Leaving? Where are you going?"

"That is none of your concern. Suffice it to say, I am seeking a bit of justice." He turned and called to his butler, who also served as his valet. "Ludlow!" The bone-thin man creaked toward him from around the corner. "Pack my traveling valise. I shall need clothes for at least a week."

"Yes, milord." The scrawny man scurried away.

"As for you, Muriel. I would suggest that you find a better means of keeping warm than lying in your bed complaining. If you don't, I warn you-Lord Tilbert will be the better choice of the suitors I shall find for you to marry."

With that he strode off, leaving the girl to stare after him, pale and shaken. Good, he thought. At least one of the women in his care had learned her place.

The other was about to learn what happened to those who opposed him.

TWENTY-SIX.

At last Kathryn was home! Every dream of Lucien she had ever dreamed had come true twice over. He loved her, he needed her, and he accepted her the way she was. At last she had found a place of true refuge and it felt so right, so incredibly good.

She stood next to him in the master's suite, where she slept now each night.

"I want you to move in here," he had said the evening of her return. "You may still keep the room next door as your own but at night I would have you sleep in here." He looked at her with a bit of uncertainty. "Would you mind terribly?"

Kathryn had smiled, her heart overflowing. "I should love that above all things, my lord."

She remembered those words now as he smiled, still the handsomest man she had ever seen. She had an embarra.s.sing urge to slide her arms around his neck and press her mouth against those sensuous lips. Though they had made love just hours ago, when she looked up at him, his eyes were dark and smoky. Lucien framed her face with his hands and bent his head to kiss her, but the shout of a little boy running pall mall up the stairs had both of them pulling guiltily away and turning toward the door.

Michael was due back from his visit to Carlyle Hall today, where he had been staying, giving them a chance to be alone for a while, after such a lengthy separation.

"Papa! Papa!"

At the word, Kathryn's eyes swung to Lucien's in surprise, and a faint flush rose beneath the skin across his cheeks.

"The process has been started for the boy's legal adoption," he said gruffly. "In a few weeks' time, he'll be Michael Bartholomew Montaine. Since that will be the case, it seemed only fitting that he should address me as his father."

"Of course." Kathryn fought a smile and felt a fierce swell of love for him. For the first time it occurred to her that she might have been wrong in leaving. If ever there was a man to trust with her life, her heart, it was the man she had married.

Michael rushed in just then, sliding to a halt right in front of them, the thick Oriental carpet bunching at his feet and nearly knocking him over. " 'Tis truth! G.o.d's eyes, Kathryn, you've finally come 'ome!"

There were tears in his big blue eyes and neither Lucien nor Kathryn bothered to correct the poor grammar he had used in his excitement at seeing her. Kathryn knelt and opened her arms, and the small blond child rushed into them. Kathryn hugged him hard, swallowing past a tight ache in her throat.

"I missed you, Michael. I missed you so much."

"I missed you, too... me lady." He hugged her neck, his small head tucked into her shoulder. "We all missed you, 'specially me lord."

Kathryn smoothed back his shiny blond hair, hugged him again, then drew back to look at him. "From now on... if it's all right with you... I should like it very much if you would call me Mama."

Michael looked up at her with teary blue eyes, then his thin face split into a grin. "Are you gonna be my mother?"

"If you want me to."