Damsel in Disguise (11 page)

“Apparently.”

All was silent once more. When he spoke again, her body jolted violently. For heaven’s sake, would this man make up his mind? Was he leaving, was he sleeping, or were they having a conversation? All his conflicting actions tonight wreaked havoc on her system.

“Just what does my cousin think you can convince me to do for him?”

“What? I told you, Fitzgelder believes I died. I’m not in league with him. Now, may I please have some blanket?”

“No. How did you happen to ‘accidentally’ overhear his plan, then?”

“It’s a long story.”

“It’s a long night.”

“I thought you were leaving for London?”

“I can wait until after you’ve explained.”

She sighed in frustration. Well, perhaps if she gave him a few of the details, it might be enough to keep him from heading out to his death. The longer he remained here, infuriating as he was, the longer he might remain alive.

“Fine. I was at his home with my father’s troupe. We were hired to put on a performance for a private party.”

She could hear the disbelief in Rastmoor’s voice. “Oh? That’s odd. Last I heard, my cousin promised to murder your father if he ever saw him again. Apparently Fitzgelder was a bit miffed that the man helped mislead him regarding the true value of your dowry.”

“Yes, which is very likely why he went to great trouble to keep his identity hidden from us. It was his steward who actually hired us. Papa had no idea whose home we were going to until we were there and it was too late. We were lucky to escape. If not for my disguise, I doubt I’d be here now.”

“Ah, so that’s where the mustache came from.”

“Yes. Can I please have the blanket now?”

“No,” he said, but he rolled onto his side and draped his arm around her.

By God, she wanted to hate him, but his touch was gentle and warm. He pulled her closer to his chest, and she snuggled there despite herself. What an idiot she was!

“Is this better?” he asked.

“No,” she replied, but it was.

“So you were at this clandestine performance when you overheard Fitzgelder’s plan to kill me? He was just chatting about it in front of all his friends?”

“Of course not. I was trying to help Sophie escape, and we were hiding in a hallway.”

“And just what was Sophie escaping from?”

His posture was possessive, and his thumb brushed rhythmically over her breast. The nipple grew taut, and her body reminded her that the aching need was anything but sated. She drew a deep breath and tried to ignore him and his warmth and the feel of his hands on her skin. It took every ounce of her acting skills to keep still and not arch against him, begging for more.

“She needed to escape your ruddy cousin,” she managed to say. “Sophie was a maid in his household, and he treated her shabbily—a behavior that must run in your family, as a matter of fact.”

“I don’t think you’re the one to be giving lectures on proper behavior, my naked little player. Why don’t you tell me the truth?”

“I am telling you the truth,” she began, but her breath was caught again when his hand slid from her breast down to the hot valley between her thighs.

“You heard Fitzgelder say he would kill me, so you brought Sophie along to save me, is that right?”

“Yes, yes, that’s right.”

Heavens, was it ever right! He may have neglected her pleasure a few minutes ago, but he was tending to it now. Lord, if he kept this up, he’d have her admitting to the whole truth of the last three years.

“But just what made you so sure he would really do what he said?”

“He . . . he sounded quite determined.”

“And what else is he determined to do? What will he do about Mother?”

“I don’t know.” She was fairly gasping for air by now. Oh, if only this interrogation could go on forever! “I suppose he’s prepared to share what he knows about your mother with the public.”

“But what good will that do if I’m dead? It’s not as if he could ever stand to inherit. No, Julia, there’s something you’re not telling me.”

Likely because there were many things she did not know. Why couldn’t he quit demanding answers and just let her concentrate on what he was doing? His hands were so warm, his touch was so gentle, she could almost believe this time he cared.

But the ecstasy was over too soon. His caresses ceased, and he turned her to face him. She kept her eyes on his shirt, although even that was painful for her, because she could recall all too vividly the perfectly formed muscular chest that lay beneath it.

“Why should Fitzgelder need me out of the way if he still intends to use his information against my mother? He would gain nothing—the fact of his illegitimacy would still be there.”

“Perhaps that isn’t his motivation this time.”

“Well, what else is there? If I were dead, Julia, the only ones who could possibly be hurt by Fitzgelder’s revelations would be my mother and my sister.”

Indeed, she vaguely recalled Rastmoor had a younger sister. He’d spoken of her with brotherly affection a time or two. She couldn’t imagine how the sister might fit into all this, but the sudden change in Rastmoor’s expression and the ripple of tension that surged through his body said he was beginning to form an idea.

“You are sincere when you say Fitzgelder believes you dead?” he asked.

“Yes, but how does that . . . ?”

His smoldering eyes lit with a dark fire. “So he would be free to marry again.”

“Yes, of course, but who on earth would ever . . .”

She paused. Indeed, Fitzgelder wanted revenge. Plus, he needed funds. How better to kill two birds with one stone than to marry judiciously—some vulnerable female who might fulfill both roles. Julia began to think she understood some of the concern washing over Rastmoor’s face.

“Someone who was forced into it would marry him,” he said.

My, but this really did sound like a devious plot, after all. If Fitzgelder truly did hold some damaging information over Rastmoor’s family, surely a loving daughter—a very wealthy, loving daughter whose inheritance would go up exponentially were her only sibling to suddenly be found dead—might do anything she could to prevent a scandal or further injury to her mother. She might even stoop to marry the most despicable man on the planet.

“Your sister has a healthy dowry?”

“By God, she’s swimming in it,” Rastmoor said.

“And if you were out of the way . . .”

“Fitzgelder would be free to drag out all our secrets, ruining my mother and destroying Penelope’s hopes for a decent future. Penny might think she’d have no choice but to give in to any demands he might have.”

“But could he really destroy them? Is the information so very damning?”

“You don’t think it’s damning enough?”

She forced herself to meet his gaze. “I, er, I never actually heard what it was.”

Now he actually smiled, and she thought maybe, just maybe, she detected some warmth to it. “No? By God, Julia, you are a damned good actress. Yes, the information is damning, provided, of course, he really does have it.”

“Have what?”

“The proof.”

“There’s proof?”

“Damn it, Julia. Just how much of this did you make up?”

“I told you I wasn’t privy to the details. What proof does he have?”

“I don’t know. If he’s got it, why hasn’t he used it already? I didn’t even know the item existed until I found it amongst my father’s things after his death. How could Fitzgelder suddenly get hold of it now?”

“What is it?”

He laughed again. “You really don’t know anything, do you?”

“I know Fitzgelder wants you dead, and now I think we know why. So what on earth does he have that’s worth killing you for?”

“A locket,” he replied after a slight pause.

He didn’t have to repeat it. Fitzgelder’s devastating proof was a
locket
?
The
locket? By God, it couldn’t be this simple, could it?

“Did you say a locket?”

“Small, heart-shaped—yes, a simple little locket. But I’m not convinced Fitzgelder actually has it.”

“No,” she replied and watched his face. “He doesn’t. But he did.”

“What?”

“I’ve seen it—it must be the same one.”

“You’ve seen it? Damn it, Julia! You know what’s inside?”

“No, I didn’t see inside it. But I saw it.”

“Where is it, then?”

“Someone took it from him.”

He frowned. “You?”

“No, someone else.”

“For God’s sake then, who took the locket?”

“Sophie.”

 

 

HE HELD HER THERE, HER FACE CUPPED IN HIS HAND so she had no choice but to look at him. She was telling the truth, wasn’t she? About three years too late, but finally Julia was telling the truth about something. Fitzgelder truly had found the locket, and Julia had seen it. Now, for some reason, it had run off with Sophie.

“We’ve got to find her,” he said.

Julia smiled at him. “That’s what I’ve been saying all along.”

He let himself stare at her just a few moments longer. God, he still wanted her. Even after forcing himself on her and caring nothing for whether she wanted it or not, he was as hot as he had been. He wanted her, and he wanted to hear her panting and calling his name the way she used to. He wanted to drive her insane with pleasure, to know that for a short while, at least, Fitzgelder was far from her thoughts, and she belonged only to
him
.

He wrapped her in his arms and kissed her flushed lips. He convinced himself it was honest passion she felt as her body arched into his. He ran his hand back down to that place that was keeping her so distracted a minute ago. She reacted positively to that, too.

It couldn’t be mere theatrics, could it? She wanted him; he was positive she did. He may have taken her too quickly earlier, but now he would take his time. Somehow, between now and when the sun rose, he’d find a way to curb this irresistible hunger for Julia. He’d have his fill of her if it took all night.

And by God, it just might. Loving Julia was every bit as easy as it used to be. Her body seemed to mold itself to his. He watched her in awe as the passion played itself out on her face. She was tranquil; she was thrilling; she was like no one he’d ever found before.

Carefully maintaining control, he teased her with his touch. It was as if his fingertips remembered every gentle curve, every graceful part that was Julia St. Clement. Perhaps they did. Lord knew she’d been etched forever in his brain.

He bent low to kiss the slope between her breasts. She sucked in a breath and released it, sounding very much like a contented kitten. He kissed her again just to hear the sound. She didn’t disappoint.

She’d always been this way for him, responsive and oh, so engaging, yet without that jaded quality he’d found time and again in women of much casual experience. Oh, he didn’t doubt there’d been many others besides himself with Julia, but somehow she always made him feel like the only one. Tonight, though, he’d put all that from his mind and just enjoy the fantasy.

And what a fantasy she was; her golden skin glowed radiant in the moonlight through the window, her short dark hair spilled around her like a chestnut halo. Long, lush lashes brushed those porcelain cheeks as her eyes shut tight. Passion had taken over, and her body rocked against his hands as they smoothed the taut flesh over her belly and thighs. She would come easily for him.

He didn’t rush her, though, much as he might want to. She was obvious in her reactions, so he was able to judge the best ways to prolong her ecstasy. His touch brought her right to the edge of the mountain, then he let her settle back down again. His kisses fanned the inferno to raging again, only to back off just in time. She was left writhing and panting beneath him, her fingers clawing at his back in hopes of bringing him into her and finally quenching the flames. God, she made it hard to wait.

He was determined to draw this game out, though. He’d take great pride in having the upper hand as long as he possibly could. He was the one in control, not Julia.

Until she ripped his trousers down and sank her fingernails into his buttocks.

“If you don’t get on with this, I’ll murder you right now,” she said.

Well, those weren’t exactly the words of passion he’d expect at a moment like this, but he couldn’t deny the effect they had on him. The desperation in her voice nearly undid him, and before he could stop to think, his animal urges took over. He plunged himself into her.

She cried out and he made rather a growling sort of sound. Together they grasped and clawed and wrapped themselves around each other. He was quite sure it had never been like this between them, never so wild and so carnal—but now was certainly not the time to reminisce. Now was the time to grind himself into her until the rest of the planet faded away into nonexistence.

And it did. His senses were full of nothing but Julia: her scent, her feel, the heat from her surrounding him—devouring him—and the sound of her ragged breaths.
“Anthony.”
He heard his name in those ragged breaths, and it undid him.

The climax crashed over, washing away any coherent thoughts and reducing him to a plundering barbarian. But Julia was right there with him, which made it just that much more impossible to regain his control. She was gasping and moaning and calling out his name.
Again
. God, if he died right now it would be enough.

But he didn’t die. He rode their passion until the wave finally passed. Slowly his world stopped spinning, and he could shove himself off of her, where he collapsed in a panting heap. So much for his earlier precaution. He’d poured himself into her with full abandon this time.

He watched her next to him. Her arms were limp at her sides, and her chest rose and fell in great heaving movements. Her eyes were still pinched shut, but her face showed plainly the glow of the passion he’d dragged out of her. She was sated and content. And beautiful. He stroked her cheek.