For Love Alone (24 page)

Annoyed at the leap of her heart at the mere sight of him, she said coolly, “Good morning. I was just about to ring for one of the servants.”

“That won't be necessary,” Ives said, a smile on his handsome mouth. “I was on the point of coming upstairs to see if you were awake and ready for your tour of the house and introduction to the rest of the staff.”

“May I be allowed to eat first?” she asked tartly.

Ives grinned at her, a devilish gleam in his eyes. “Developed an appetite, have you?” he murmured, his gaze wandering with frank sensuality over her face and form. “I shall have to see that I keep you quite satisfied.”

“You can keep me satisfied,” she retorted swiftly, a flush staining her cheeks, “by taking me to the breakfast room
now.”

He laughed and, putting her hand on his arm, promptly led her down the hall to a large, airy room overlooking a meticulously kept rose garden.

The mouth-watering scent of bacon, ham, and kippers assaulted her nostrils. Heedless of the view, Sophy headed right to the long buffet against the far wall, where several silver warming trays were arranged. It was only after she had enjoyed her meal and several cups of coffee that she was finally ready for the tour of her new home and introductions to the remainder of the staff.

Ives set out to charm his bride, and by the time they had toured most of the important rooms of the house, met the staff, and strolled in the spring sunlight through the extensive gardens that surrounded the house, Sophy was quite relaxed and comfortable with him. It was obvious that Harrington Chase was a well-maintained and excellently staffed country home. And not, she thought with a shudder, anything like the shoddy, poorly run house that Marlowe had brought her to as a bride. But then, she admitted, perplexed, her second husband was not
exactly
like her first—though he had displayed recently distressing tendencies in that direction.

It was clear that the servants respected and liked their employer and that Ives treated them fairly. Again very different from the relationship between Marlowe and his staff. With an effort Sophy jerked her thoughts away from those unpleasant days. It would never do to be constantly comparing the two men, and yet it was very hard not to contrast this morning with her first miserable days at Marlowe House.

Catching sight of the slight droop to her mouth, Ives guided her to a small shady bench and, seating her, sat down himself. Keeping her hand in his, he asked, “What is it, sweetheart? Is something not to your liking?”

Sophy swallowed and flashed him a small smile. “Oh, no. There is nothing
not
to like. The house and grounds are very beautiful and the staff is most kind. I am sure that I shall be quite ... contented here.”

Deciding not to press, Ives nodded, and murmured, “I always thought that it was a magical place whenever I came to visit as a boy. I certainly never thought to own it.”

“It must have been very hard to lose so many of your family in such a tragic fashion. A boating accident, wasn't it?”

A muscle bunched in Ives's jaw. “Yes. The result of a wager.”

Sophy's heart sank. If she needed confirmation that reckless gambling ran in Ives's blood and that his recent actions were not just a passing whim, his words had given it to her. A wager. Every male of his family, except for Ives himself, lost because of a silly wager. How often had she heard Simon and Edward boasting of the ridiculous wagers they had made? The huge sums of money lost on the turn of a card, the speed of a horse, or the flight of a fly had caused her many a sleepless night. Was she doomed to repeat that experience?

Just when the silence would have become uncomfortable, Ives said, “You have had your share of tragedies, too, haven't you?”

She glanced at him, questions in her eyes.

“Your father's death. Your husband's sudden death. Edward's murder.” Very deliberately he added, “The men in your life all seem to suffer untimely ends.”

“What do you mean by that?” she demanded, snatching her hand from his.

“Why, nothing. I was only commenting on a curious fact.”

Eyes blazing, she stood up. “I had nothing to do with Simon's death and I did
not
murder my uncle!”

Ives smiled crookedly. “I believe you, sweetheart. I would not have married you otherwise.”

“Thank you very much for that!” she spat, not a bit appeased. Her eyes narrowed. “Why
did
you marry me? Besides your need for an heir, that is. Why did you so gallantly provide me with an alibi? Could it be that
you
had something to hide? How do I know that it wasn't you who hit me on the head and murdered my uncle?”

Ives scowled. “Don't be a fool!” he snapped. “I had no reason to murder your uncle.”

“And how do I know that?” she asked angelically. “Am I to take only your word for it?”

“Dash it all, Sophy! I am no murderer. You cannot believe such a thing of me,” Ives protested angrily.

“Being thought capable of murder is not very pleasant, is it?” she said quietly.

“No, it is not,” Ives growled. “I should not have spoken as I did. It was a stupid comment to have made. Forgive me?”

Sophy sighed. “There is nothing to forgive. Simon's death was an accident, but there have always been those that believed I pushed him down the stairs. And why not? I had fired a pistol at him only moments before. For those that believe I have murdered once and gotten away with it, Edward's death is just another example of what a clever murderess I am.” She smiled sadly. “I am quite certain that there are already wagers being laid in the clubs on the length of your life now that you have married me.”

Standing up, Ives pulled her into his arms. His cheek resting on her hair, he said softly, “Then I shall just have to live a very long time. And we shall just have to discover who murdered Edward ourselves, won't we? And prove them all wrong.”

Hope suddenly flickering across her features, she glanced up at him. “Can we actually do that? Find the murderer?”

He smiled down at her. “Together,” he said softly as his mouth caught hers, “we can do anything.”

It was several minutes later before Sophy emerged flushed and breathless from his embrace. With trembling fingers she patted the spangled ribbon in her hair and said with little indication of the rioting emotions within her, “I hope that you are right. Finding the person who murdered Edward will not be easy.”

“Hmm. I dare say. But do not forget, we have a clue that no one else does,” Ives replied easily, his mind more on the sweetness of Sophy's kiss than on what he was saying.

“The note?”

Ives nodded. “That tells us that Edward was clearly attempting to blackmail someone.” He grinned at her. “We just have to discover who.”

A little frown creased Sophy's forehead. “The night Edward was murdered, Agnes Weatherby mentioned to me that he had some scheme he had concocted to shore up his finances. She told me quite openly that he no longer intended to pursue Anne's fortune, that he had come up with something else.”

It was Ives's turn to frown. “That's a bit of information you never mentioned before, and I find it rather illuminating. I think,” he said quietly, “that upon our return to town, a private conversation with Miss Agnes Weatherby might be our first order of business.”

Sophy nodded. “I agree. Edward's murder aside, something of a more permanent nature must be done about Anne.” She glanced at him from beneath her lashes. “You
are
going to let me continue to act as her guardian, are you not?”

He grinned. “I would not dare attempt to stand in your way. In fact, I already had every intention of speaking to my own solicitor about the pair of us becoming her legal guardians. You might,” he drawled, “even find that being married to me has some advantages when we confront Miss Weatherby about Anne's future.”

Sophy made a face at him, and he laughed out loud as they continued their stroll. The stables came into view, and the subject was dropped.

Stopping to admire a pasture full of sleek, long-limbed horses near one of the main buildings, Sophy asked, “Do you raise your own stock?”

“I plan to,” Ives replied. “My cousin, Adrian, was an expert horseman. As I understand it, in the months just prior to his death, he had convinced my uncle that starting their own stud farm would be both practical and profitable.” His gaze suddenly bleak and his voice heavy, he added, “Along with everything else, I found that I had inherited a sizable band of broodmares and several exceptional stallions. None of the mares were bred last year because of the deaths and the uncertainty about what I planned to do.”

His eyes on the grazing horses, he said softly, “I have always enjoyed horses myself and while I am not the horseman my cousin was, I feel that he left me an excellent start. I owe it to him to at least see if his dream is attainable.” He smiled down at Sophy. “And so, madam wife, unless we come a cropper, we are going to be in the business of raising horses. You see before you the start of the Harrington Stud, and Adrian's dream.”

“That's very kind of you,” Sophy said, her eyes soft as she gazed at his hard profile.

Ives shrugged. “Not exactly. My man of business tells me that it will be extremely profitable. Adrian had assembled only the best, and there have already been inquiries from several mare owners who wish to breed to our stallions. The foals that were born last year did extremely well at the sales, and the market for the foal crop next year, so my man tells me, should be even better.”

The remainder of the day passed pleasantly, and it was only when she began to dress for dinner that the knot in Sophy's stomach reappeared. Last night had been a revelation to her. With Simon the act of lovemaking had always been a degrading experience, but in Ives's arms she had discovered that it did not have to be so. To her amazement, she had learned that much pleasure could be had from simply touching, that the brush of another's lips could fill one with wild, exciting emotions, and the joining of male and female could arouse powerful sensations, thrilling sensations that had
nothing
to do with degradation and everything to do with pleasure.

Still, Sophy did not trust those stunning and unpredictable emotions. She did not like being out of control. Though the pleasure had been intense, it had frightened her to be at the mercy of such powerful sensations, sensations that overrode coherent thought, that banished reality and left her awash in a sea of primitive demands—demands that only Ives seemed capable of fulfilling.

To her dismay, a little stab of anticipation went through her at the knowledge that Ives would come to her bed again tonight. Would his lovemaking sweep her away as it had last night? Thinking of last night and of the pleasure that had been hers, an aching warmth suddenly flooded her lower body, and she was astonished. Not once in all the years of her marriage to Simon had she looked forward to his possession with anything but revulsion. Yet in one night Ives seemed to have banished many of those old ugly emotions.

But not all of them, she reminded herself, unable to deny that while one part of her responded uncontrollably to him, there was another part of her that was wary and suspicious, not only of him, but of her own reactions to him. Until she trusted him, she would be on her guard.

Last night, she thought uneasily, could have been a mere aberration. Tonight, she realized, as she prepared to join Ives for dinner, could be vastly different. Tonight he could come to her with the same brutal, careless cruelty that Simon had practiced.

 

Ives was aware of the change in Sophy's manner the moment she entered the room. The wariness that had been absent for most of the day had returned, and he sighed. He had not expected that one night in his arms would allay all her fears, but he had hoped that he had made some progress. From the way her gaze slid nervously from his and the way she politely avoided his touch, it appeared he was wrong.

She did not deny him, though. Later that night, after they had dined and spent an increasingly tense evening playing a few hands of cards, when Ives came to her, she did not repulse his advances. But he was aware every moment of the need to proceed cautiously. She was like a wary animal ready to burst into flight at the first hint of danger. He wooed her and gentled her as he had the previous evening and their eventual mating was every bit as sweet, as explosively powerful as it had been the first time.

Though it went against his own desires, after several minutes of lazy kissing and lingering caresses, he left her and headed for his own cold, lonely bed. He would have been cheered to know that Sophy watched his departure with mixed emotions, relief and an odd regret that he would not remain with her throughout the night.

On Wednesday, Ives took Sophy to meet several of the tenants and their families. Seeing the neat farms and well-kept cottages, the smiling faces of the residents, the way entire families would rush to envelop their gig when they arrived, laughing and eager to speak and meet with the lord's new lady, she could not help but remember the disgraceful state of Simon's farms and the sour, bitter faces of his tenants. Ives was obviously a good steward of both the land and the people who farmed it. And that night when he came to her, as she lost herself in the dizzying passion he seemed to rouse so easily, she admitted that he seemed to be a good steward to his wife, plowing strongly into her and sowing his seed deeply....