The Bride's Necklace Part 17

"It won't be the same..." she said, "...not unless you want it to be."

The words rolled through his head. What did he want? He wanted her as she had been that night on the ship, wanted her returning his kisses with the same wild abandon, responding eagerly each time he touched her.

He wanted her whispering his name, her body gloving him so sweetly he groaned.

Reaching out, he cupped her cheek. "I want you, Victoria. I want it to be as it was."

Tory gazed up at the man she had wed and her throat went tight. She heard Cord's words and the soft way he said them, and hope blossomed deep inside her. She remembered the way he had looked at her that night on the ship, the need she had read in his face. It was there now, reaching out to her as it had before.

Cord kissed her again, the way she had wanted him to kiss her before, with a tenderness that overrode his pa.s.sion. Tory kissed him back, tentatively at first, then a fire seemed to ignite between them. Their kisses turned wild, unbridled. She slid her arms around his neck and pressed her body into his, ran her fingers over the solid muscles in his chest.

Lifting her up, he carried her over to the bed and settled her on the mattress. He kissed her as he followed her down, bracing himself on his elbows. Cord pressed his mouth against the place beneath her ear, kissed the side of her neck, trailed a hot, damp path over her shoulders.

That's when he saw them. Tory had prayed that in the darkness they would not show.

Reaching out, he hesitantly touched one of the faint marks that had almost disappeared on her back. "Harwood," he said harshly. "Harwood did this?"

"What happened is in the past. He has no power over me now."

"I'm going to kill him." Though his voice turned soft, anger darkened his features. "I'm going to call him out." He started to get up from the bed, so furious his hands were shaking.

Tory caught his arm. "No, Cord, please! The baron's an expert marksman. He practices nearly every day. He prides himself on his skill with pistol and sword."

The edge of Cord's mouth barely curved. "You don't believe I can match his skill?"

"I don't want you hurt!"

He rose from the bed, but Tory wouldn't let go of his arm. "Think of the scandal. You've got your family to consider. And mine. Whatever he did, it happened in the past. I'm your wife now. I'm safe with you. Harwood can't hurt me again."

A muscle bunched in his jaw. "No," he said in that too soft way of his. "He won't ever hurt you again."

"I'm asking you, Cord-begging you-not to go after him. Please. It can only cause more grief."

Deep down, he knew she was right. She could see the resignation settle into his face. The scandal would be brutal. He was the head of the family. There were others to consider.

"Harwood has made an enemy. I won't forget what he's done." His finger gently outlined one of the fading marks. "If these are painful, there will be other nights..."

"They are well past hurting. And this isn't just any night, it is our wedding night."

The hunger returned to his eyes, making the gold in them glitter. He kissed her deeply and Tory kissed him back. She wanted this night, wanted to feel the pleasure he had given her before. Cord cupped her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, bent and took the fullness into his mouth, and she gave up a soft sigh of pleasure. He laved the tip, suckled and tasted, and heat like lightning speared out through her limbs. He continued his tender a.s.sault, ministering to each breast, making her body go liquid and warm.

She had forgot how good it felt when he touched her, forgot the overpowering hunger. He trailed kisses over her belly, moved lower, parted her legs and settled his mouth on her most sensitive spot.

Tory arched up off the bed, her fingers sliding into his hair. She bit down on her lip to keep from crying out as sweet sensation enveloped her. Cord slid his hand beneath her hips, lifting her to give him better access, and little by little her resistance faded. He didn't stop until she reached release, crying out his name as she flew apart.

Cord rose above her, kissing her gently then deepening the kiss. She felt his hardness pressing against her, then sliding slowly inside.

Fanning her desire back to life, he surged deeply, and her fingers dug into the muscles across his shoulders. Pleasure tore through her, so sweet and hot she trembled. Her body tensed, tightened around him, and she lost herself in the storm of climax.

Afterward they lay entwined, one of his long legs draped over hers. His eyes were closed, dark lashes fanning his cheeks. She wanted to reach out and touch him, wondered if in time there was a chance he might come to love her as she loved him.

His eyes came open, came to rest on the necklace that still encircled her throat. Tory reached up and touched it, ran her fingers over each satiny pearl.

"It's incredibly lovely," she said.

Cord turned onto his side and propped himself up on an elbow. "Yes...it is." But he was looking at her, not the necklace.

She smiled as he reached out to touch it, then trailed a finger down over her breast.

"Do you know the legend?" she asked.

His gaze returned to her face and one dark eyebrow went up. "There is a legend about it?"

Tory fingered the pearls, admiring the perfect weight of them, the texture. "It started nearly eight hundred years ago when the necklace was made for Lord Fallon. It was a gift for his bride, Ariana of Merrick."

"The Bride's Necklace," he said, remembering the name she had told him.

"That's right. It was said the couple was deeply in love. Lord Fallon sent the necklace to Ariana with a note professing his devotion and she was thrilled with the gift. The wedding approached, but on the way to the castle, Lord Fallon was set upon by thieves. The earl and all of his men were killed in the fighting."

Cord studied the strand of pearls. "Not good news for the bride."

"Ariana was devastated, so distraught she climbed the castle parapet and jumped to her death on the rocks below. Apparently, she was already several months gone with child. When they found her body, she was wearing the necklace. They would have buried her with it, but it was too valuable, and so it was sold."

Cord made a low sound in his throat. "I'm glad I didn't know all this before I bought the d.a.m.ned thing."

Tory smiled. "The necklace is believed to carry a curse. It is said that whoever shall own the necklace will be blessed with great fortune or suffer terrible tragedy-depending upon the pureness of his heart."

Cord reached out and lifted the heavy strand, watched the way the diamonds glittered in the candlelight, ran his thumb back and forth over the creamy roundness of the pearls. "I thought it the most exquisite piece of jewelry I'd ever seen."

"Are you certain you didn't buy it to punish me for the trouble I've caused?"

Cord leaned toward her, looked down into her face. "Perhaps I did...at the time. Now I just like the way it looks round your very lovely throat."

To prove it, he bent his head and kissed the side of her neck, kissed his way up to her ear, then captured her lips. He was hard, she realized as her body came to life, began to throb with the same need he was feeling. They tried to go slowly, but pa.s.sion flamed to life and their control slipped away. They reached release together, then drifted off to sleep.

They made love again just before dawn. When Tory awakened, Cord was gone. As she slipped from the bed, her thoughts were troubled. What sort of marriage could she have with a man who didn't love her? What sort of future was in store for her?

And, dear G.o.d, what was happening to Claire?

Chapter Fourteen.

Claire shifted on the carriage seat and slowly came awake. She straightened as she realized she was snuggled against Lord Percy's shoulder, one of his arms keeping her in place as she slept. They were on their way to Gretna Green, just over the Scottish border. Never in a thousand years would she have believed she would soon be married to a man she barely knew.

Embarra.s.sed, she scrambled to sit up, and he hurriedly released her.

"Forgive me," he said. "I was just...I wanted you to get some sleep."

Claire looked into his pale blue eyes and read the concern there, along with the fatigue. "What about you? You've been riding as long as I have."

Percy shook his head. His hair was a darker blond than her own, the color of gold, like pirate treasure. "I am fine. I dozed a bit while you were asleep."

He had told her to call him Percy. She thought that she should, since she was going to be his wife.

Wife. A little tremor ran through her. She barely understood what that meant. As a girl, she had imagined becoming a bride one day-sometime in the far distant future. But the day had somehow arrived and she felt like a leaf in the wind, with nothing of substance to cling to.

She tried hard not to be afraid.

She wished Tory were there. Tory would explain the things a wife must do, tell her what Percival Chezwick would expect of her.

At least her sister was safe. And Claire thought that Tory really did care for the earl. Claire had seen the way her sister looked at him. There was something special in that look, something Claire had never seen in her sister's eyes before. And the earl would take care of her, keep her safe from Lord Harwood.

"Claire?"

She blinked up at the man beside her and reined in her wandering thoughts. Her future husband was certainly handsome enough, tall and spare, with gentle blue eyes, his golden hair parted neatly in the middle.

"My lord?"

"It's just Percy, remember?"

She flushed. "Oh course...Percy."

"I asked if you are hungry. We have traveled all night. There is a village just ahead. I should think you would be ready to rest and perhaps break your fast."

The color deepened in her cheeks. She fidgeted on the seat. It had been hours since their last stop. She needed badly to attend herself.

"Thank you, yes. I am quite hungry. I appreciate your thoughtfulness...Percy."

He nodded, rapped on the roof of the carriage. It was a plush conveyance, made for long journeys, pulled by four st.u.r.dy bay horses. Percy had told her his eldest brother, the earl of Louden, had lent him the rig when he had learned his youngest sibling intended to elope- with their father's blessing, of course.

"We'll have a proper wedding when we get home," Percy had promised, but Claire didn't want a big wedding. In truth, she didn't want a wedding at all. But Lord Brant had explained she must marry Lord Percy so that she and Tory would be safe from the baron, and she trusted the earl to tell her the truth.

And she liked Lord Percy, truly she did. He reminded her of the prince who had scaled the tower to save the maiden in the story her mother used to tell when she and Tory were little girls.

The carriage stopped at an inn called The Fat Ox, where Lord Percy let a room so that she might refresh herself before they went in to breakfast. He was ever solicitous of her wishes and he had a kind way about him. She often found herself smiling at something he said or when he looked at her in that soft way of his.

They resumed their journey sitting across from each other in the carriage, and though it was the proper thing to do, she missed his rea.s.suring presence beside her.

Lord Percy shifted on the seat and she realized he was watching her. Catching her gaze, he cleared his throat and spots of color appeared in his cheeks.

"I am happy we are to wed, Claire," he said softly.

Her face felt warm. "I will try to be a good wife, Percy."

She wanted that, wanted to make her husband happy, as wives were supposed to do.

As soon as they returned, she would ask Tory to explain her wifely duties. Her sister had attended Mrs. Thornhill's Private Academy, after all. They studied such things there. Besides, by now, her sister was a wife herself.

Yes, Claire thought, Tory would know what to do.

"Do you think she's all right?" It was the third time she had asked the question. From his seat behind the desk, Cord was beginning to frown.

"Claire is fine. Lord Percy gave his word and he is a gentleman. He will not take advantage of Claire. He will not make husbandly advances until she is ready to accept them."

"But Claire isn't like me. She isn't-"

He looked up from his work and one dark eyebrow went up.

Tory flushed. "She is more reserved than I am."

Cord got up from his desk and walked toward her. "She is not the pa.s.sionate creature you are, is that what you mean?" He lightly caught her shoulders. "You are an utter delight in that regard and there is scarcely a moment I don't think of hauling you off to bed. Which means, if you don't leave me to my work, I shall drag you upstairs this very moment and make you behave like the pa.s.sionate little baggage you are."

Tory flushed and backed away, uncertain whether to be flattered or insulted. "Then I suppose I shall have to leave. I wouldn't want to interfere with your duties."

Cord's mouth edged up, but she could see that his mind had already returned to the stack of paperwork on his desk. With a sigh, he returned to his chair and submerged himself once more in his task.

Tory watched him for a while, but he had already forgotten she was there. Since their wedding night, Cord had spent most of his time in his study, foraging through the mountain of papers on his desk. Now that he was resigned to being married to a penniless wife instead of an heiress, he seemed determined to make up for the loss by working even harder than he had before.

Tory sighed as she left the study and made her way down the hall. Physically, they seemed well suited. One of Cord's hot looks left her breathless. One kiss and she wanted more. Her husband seemed to feel the same, making love to her several times a night.

But he never came to her room before midnight and he always left before dawn. He had duties, he explained, responsibilities he couldn't ignore.

And there was his ongoing search for his cousin.

Captain Sharpe's present location had yet to be determined. Though the captain was thought to be alive, they were unsure in which prison he was now being held.

And uncertain how long he could endure under harsh French prison conditions.

The clock was ticking, the need to find the captain resting heavily on Cord's broad shoulders. He had important things to do, and spending time with his wife, it seemed, wasn't one of them.

Her stomach churned at the thought. If she couldn't be with him, how could she make him fall in love with her? If he didn't love her, how long would it be before he tired of her and turned to another woman?

"Beg pardon, my lady."

Standing in the hall outside the study, Tory turned at the sound of the butler's voice.

"Your carriage is arrived out front, as you requested."

"Thank you, Timmons." She was on her way over to see her sister. Claire had safely returned home to London, she and her husband living in the small but elegant town house Lord Percy had provided near Portman Square. Tory knew Claire was lonely, and uncertain about her new life. In time, Tory hoped things would improve.

She followed Timmons into the entry, picked her reticule up off the side table, then waited while he held open the door. Since her return as Cord's wife, the staff had been surprisingly cordial. Once they learned she wasn't actually a servant but the daughter of a baron, they seemed to admire the fact that during her term as housekeeper she had worked just as hard as they had, even though her blood was blue.

All but Mrs. Rathbone, who remained surly and only grudgingly respectful. Still, she had been in Cord's employ for a number of years and Tory refused to dismiss her.