Fanning the Flame (29 page)

Adam tapped the paper. "We need to get a list of Nock's customers, see who purchased this sort of weapon. Perhaps we'll turn up someone connected in some way to the earl."

"We've already attained a portion of the list, my lord." Fraser pulled out another sheet of foolscap and handed it to Adam. Jillian leaned over to read it.

"Unfortunately, Nock isn't good with records," Fraser said. "He's been compiling a second list for the magistrates' office, which means it will also be available to us."

The list wasn't lengthy. Jillian recognized the names of several wealthy members of the nobility, but none of them was a suspect or seemed connected to Lord Fenwick except as an acquaintance.

"Damn. No names here that strike a chord. Perhaps the additional list will give us something." Adam set the list back on the desk. "Several of these people live in London. We need to locate as many as possible. We need to find out whether they still have the weapon Nock made for them, or if they have sold it. If they have, I want to know to whom."

"Yes, my lord."

They reviewed the rest of the information, but nothing else leapt out at them. It was late in the afternoon by the time Jillian and Adam left Fraser's office. Jillian was exhausted, and with only seven days left till the trial, more discouraged than she had been since the night of the murder.

"I know what you're thinking." Adam's deep voice reached out to her from the opposite side of the carriage. The curtains had been drawn for privacy and the interior lamps were lit. They flickered against the dark red velvet draperies at the windows. "Come here, love."

A lump rose in her throat. He always seemed to know what she needed, and right now she desperately needed him to hold her. Adam opened his arms and her throat closed up as she went into them. He lifted her onto his lap and held her close against his chest.

"You mustn't lose hope," he said softly. "We're going to beat this."

"I know." But she didn't really believe it and she didn't think he did, either. She was very close to giving up and apparently Adam knew it.

"There's still a week left." He pressed a kiss against her temple. "We'll make use of every moment. Meanwhile, I'm going to book passage for you on a ship—"

"I told you before—I won't run away." Tears welled and her throat went tight. "I didn't kill him and I'm not leaving."

"You won't have to. We're going to find out who killed him. This is just a precaution in case we need more time."

She eased away from him, brushed at the tears on her cheeks. "I won't go, Adam. I won't leave here with the entire country believing I murdered the earl."

She thought that he would be angry. He was a major, after all. He didn't like his orders disobeyed. Instead, he eased her back into his arms and tightened his hold around her. She could hear the rhythmic clopping of the horses' hooves, feel the vibration of cobblestones beneath the wheels. As the minutes crept past, she imagined they must be close to reaching his town house and fresh tears burned.

"I don't want to go home," she said on a shaky breath. "Not yet. I don't want to talk to anyone, not even the servants. I just need . . . I don't know, I just need some time or . . ."

Adam rapped on the roof of the carriage and slid open the panel between the interior and the driver's box on top. "Keep driving, Lance. I don't care where. I'll let you know when we're ready to return to the house."

"Yes, milord."

Adam slid the panel closed and settled himself back on the seat. "Is that what you wanted?"

She nodded faintly. "Thank you."

"There's something else I think you need."

She looked up. "What?"

In answer, he cupped her face between his hands and very gently kissed her. "I'm going to make love to you, sweeting. For a while, at least, I'm going to make you forget all of this."

"In here?" The words came out with dismay, yet a surge of heat speared through her.

"It's a little crowded, but I assure you we'll accomplish the task." The glance he gave her could have scorched the inside of the carriage. "Consider it another learning experience."

Seated on his lap, she could feel his heavy arousal beneath the layers of her plum silk skirt. Adam kissed the side of her neck, then turned her a little to unbutton the back of her gown. He slid her skirt up, bunching it around her waist, and positioned her astride his thighs, propping her knees on the velvet seat on either side of him.

His kiss was soft yet fierce. The top of her gown gaped open. He eased it off her shoulders and began to feast on her breasts.

They made love in the back of the carriage, their clothes half on, half off, a sensual, erotic coupling that had her moaning his name. With her legs spread across his thighs, she was open and exposed and Adam made the most of her vulnerable position, his long fingers moving beneath her skirts, stroking her with such skill she forgot where she was, forgot the fear that wrapped around her every time she thought of what lay ahead.

Lifting her a little, he positioned his hardness at the entrance to her passage, and eased himself inside until he impaled her fully.

"Adam . . ."

"Hold on to me, sweeting. Hold on tight." Pleasure rolled through her as he began to move, the impact of his deep, rhythmic thrusts enhanced by the sway of the carriage and the potholes in the road.

It was an exquisite, deeply sensual mating, yet each touch, each skillful caress, held a tenderness he had never shown her before. After they reached release, he simply held her, as if they had all the time in the world, instead of just seven more days.

I
love you,
she thought.
I
love you so much.

But he wouldn't want to hear the words, wouldn't know what to say in return if she said them.

"I promised I would take care of you," he said softly. "That's what I'm going to do. Put your trust in me, Jillian. I won't fail you."

He wouldn't fail her. He would stand beside her no matter the outcome. It was one of the reasons she loved him so much. And she trusted him—with everything but her heart.

If she survived the trial, he would become her protector, she his kept woman. She would give up her dignity, abandon her self-respect because she loved him more than her own life.

Even if she won, she would lose.

Chapter Twenty

May the third. With Colin Norton's release and the trial date officially set, Jillian had forgotten that today was little Christopher's birthday. Fortunately, Maude remembered. Maude, Reggie, and Fanny the cook had been planning something special.

At Reggie's invitation, Jillian arrived in the kitchen, a warm, cheery room that smelled of yeast and vanilla. The long oak table where the servants took their meals had been set with a white linen cloth and decorated with red and yellow paper flowers. A sign painted in big red letters hung on the wall, spelling out
happy birthday chris.
At the end of the table, three gaily wrapped packages bore little white cards inscribed with Chris' name.

As she walked toward the table, Jillian's fingers tightened around the present she had purchased just yesterday with money she borrowed from Maggie, a small, exquisitely carved and painted wooden horse that she had discovered in a little shop in Bond Street.

Jillian smiled at the servants standing behind the table. "Chris is going to be pleased. This is very nice of all of you."

"The lad deserves a bit o' somethin' on his special day." In the steamy kitchen, wisps of black hair escaped from Maude's mobcap and curled around her rosy cheeks. "I'm thinkin' the major won't be doin' nothing for 'im, though Lord knows he should, seein' as how the lad is his son."

Jillian stiffened, coming to the earl's defense though part of her thought it might be true. "It's a good thing the major—I mean Lord Blackwood— didn't hear you say that. He would scarcely approve your discussing his family affairs. I'm certain the matter provides some juicy gossip belowstairs, but there is no way to know for certain that Chris is Lord Blackwood's son."

"I got eyes in me head," Maude grumbled. "Saints alive, the lad looks just like 'im."

"That's enough, Maude," Reggie said, though Jillian knew he felt the same.

The patter of small feet coming down the hall ended the discussion. "Here comes Chris now. We had better get ready."

Fanny hurried over with her special dessert, a layered, custard-filled spice cake with Chris's name spelled out in little hard candies on the top. Then the swinging door shoved open and Chris walked in.

"Surprise!" they all shouted in unison.

Chris just stood there, staring. When no one said anything else and he still didn't move, Jillian rounded the table and walked over to where he stood.

"This is all for you, Chris." She gestured toward the cake and the presents and the three people grinning down at him. "Happy birthday."

The boy walked farther into the kitchen, staring at the packages as if he couldn't believe his eyes.

"Come on, lad." Reggie motioned him over to the chair at the head of the linen-draped table. "We 'aven't got all day."

The child didn't need more encouragement. "Mum always gave me a present on me birthday. I got a new pair of shoes once. Well, not exactly new but almost." He opened a package wrapped in blue-and-silver paper, carefully setting the ribbon aside to be used again.

"That's from me," Reggie said proudly as Chris drew out the little toy soldier he found in the box, examining the piece as if it were made of glass instead of wood.

"It's a cavalry officer from the major's old regiment," Reggie said, "Eleventh Light Dragoons."

"The major?" Chris looked up, his small fingers smoothing over every line of the soldier's blue uniform.

"Reggie means Lord Blackwood," Jillian explained from over Chris's shoulder.

"He was in the army?"

"One of the best officers in the regiment," Reggie said proudly.

"'Tis wondrous," the little boy said. He was examining the wooden soldier, stroking it with reverent care, when the door swung open and the earl walked in.

Adam took in the scene in an instant and his slashing black eyebrows drew together. "The footman thought you had gone into the kitchen," he said to Jillian, but his eyes were fixed on the boy.

Myriad emotions crossed his face. Jillian would have given her last shilling—if she'd had one of her own—to know what he was thinking.

Chris must have been wondering the same thing, because a faint tremor ran through him.

"Happy birthday, Christopher," Adam said softly.

Chris's mouth curved up, his smile so sweet Jillian’s heart turned over. "Reggie gave me a soldier." He proudly held it up for Adam's inspection. "He said you were in the army."

Adam flicked a glance at Reggie, strode over to examine the wooden soldier in the uniform of his old regiment. "Yes, I was."

"I should like to be a soldier, I think. Would you tell me about it sometime?"

Adam's posture subtly straightened. "War is not for children." But he handed back the toy. "Enjoy your party, Chris." He returned his attention to Jillian. "May I see you a moment, Miss Whitney?"

"Of course." She excused herself, squeezing Chris's shoulder as she left the steamy kitchen. Out in the hall, she followed the earl down the corridor and into his study, where he firmly closed the door.

His jaw looked hard when he turned to face her. "The boy may or may not be my son, but one thing is certain. He is here under my protection. That means that he is not to be treated as a servant. If you wish to hold a party in his honor, from now on you will do so in the dining room."

He was angry, she saw, and she wondered if perhaps he felt guilty for the way he had been dealing with the boy.

Jillian lifted her chin. "It's difficult to know exactly how you wish the child to be treated. He remains up on the third floor all by himself. You ignore him most of the time, then you worry that he is being relegated to the status of a servant."

A muscle ticked in his cheek. "Very well. Ask Maude to remove his clothes to a room on the second floor."

Relief filtered through her but she kept her chin held high. "As you wish, my lord." She wasn't a servant either, and she didn't appreciate the earl's highhandedness, even if she was in love with him.

For an instant Adam stood rigid, then he sighed. "I'm sorry." He raked a hand through his hair. "This isn't your fault. I'm just not used to having a child in the house. I've never been very good with them."

She realized he felt bad that he had forgotten the little boy's birthday. In a way it surprised her that he cared. In another way, it surprised her that he had been able to ignore the boy even this long.

"I should have reminded you that today was Chris's birthday. I just . . . I wasn't sure it mattered."

Adam glanced away. "To tell you the truth, I'm a little surprised it does. My mother always made my birthday special. It's something every child deserves."

Jillian's heart swelled with love for him. "You're a good man, Adam."