Lavender Lies (Historical Romance) (32 page)

For a long moment they lay in each other's arms. Finally she rolled over and brushed her golden mane from her face, a smile touching her lips. "Is this to be your bedroom also?"

He stared in wonder at her naked beauty as his body came alive with burning desire. "No, but I hope you will not deny me access to it as often as I wish/'

She frowned, not liking the fact that she was to receive him whenever he chose. "Am I to be at your beck and call, then?"

His finely chiseled mouth tightened. "I would not put it that way, Lavender. Why is it that with you, I am always saying the wrong thing?"

"I don't know, but it does not bear thinking about. If this is not your bed, should you not leave?"

He did not move, but stared at her. "1 do not care to be with you when you are in this cold mood, Lavender."

She grew daring in her folly and put on the face of the seductress while melting against him. "I am warming up now, Your Grace. Do you like me better this way? Shall I play the Swallow with you, and lure you to me with soft smiles and honeyed words?"

"Don't go too far, Lavender," he warned. "If you do not stop I will not be responsible for what happens."

Her eyes blazed, and her golden hair rippled down her naked back, drifting across her breasts. Her hand slid across his shoulder to tangle in the mat of hair on his chest. "You said tonight that your heart never ruled your head. Shall 1 prove to you that you are wrong? Shall I show you how well the Swallow can entrap a man and make him forget about his head?" She moistened her lips and moved forward. "I am after your heart."

Julian's eyes were burning with desire. Even though he knew she was playing with him, he was helplessly drawn to her—he could not stop himself from wanting her. With a muttered oath, he grabbed a handful of hair and pulled her face up to his lips. Like a man dying of thirst, his lips sought her mouth in a kiss so passionate that he was lost to common sense.

Lavender knew she had ignited a fire that she could not put out, and it would soon consume her if she was not careful. "No, Julian," she pleaded, trying to pull away from him.

"It's too late, Lavender," he said in a thick voice. "I am about to give you what you asked for."

"No, I didn't ask for—"

He pulled her tightly to him, and against her will, her body melted against his. "Did you not, Lavender? Let me set you straight on one point. It is not my heart that is ruling me at this moment. Rather it is no more than animal lust! But make no mistake about it, lust can be stronger than love."

"No," she cried, trying to move away from him. This was not what she wanted to hear.

He dipped his head and softly kissed the tip of each breast, bringing a shiver of delight from Lavender. With a gleam in his eyes, his hand moved down her quivering stomach, bringing a gasp from her. His mouth was hot and seeking as he covered her lips in a drugging kiss that left her panting.

When Lavender's vision cleared, she stared up into his face and found him smiling at her. "You see, Lavender, I know how to play the game also. Right now you are not thinking with either your head or your heart. I have just been introducing you to animal lust."

He flung her away from him and rolled out of bed. He was incensed with her again, and this time she was glad, because she had never been angrier in her life. Picking up her pillow she flung it at him, but he ducked and moved to the door, his laughter following him out of the room.

21

The Christmas season was only two days away. The majestic house at Mannington was alive with holiday spirit. All the servants had happy smiles on their faces. Holly, with its dark green leaves and bright red berries, had been strung across the great halls. Evergreens, with brightly colored ribbons, covered the downstairs mantels. Delicious foods were being prepared in the great kitchen, lending their magic aroma to the holiday verve.

By now, Lavender was capable of finding her way through the main apartments, but she would never attempt to go beyond the parts of the castle that were familiar to her. She moved through the hallway, her footsteps halting before Julian's study. The two of them had declared an unspoken truce, at least until after the holidays. She rapped on the door to his study, and heard his deep voice inviting her to enter his sanctuary.

Upon entering the room, Lavender saw that Julian was  standing  before  the  floor-to-ceiling  window, watching the snowflakes drift lazily to the ground. "Did you want to see me about something, Lavender?" he asked, turning to follow her progress across the room.

She glanced into his face, trying to read his mood, but, as always, Julian could expertly hide what he was feeling behind a mask of indifference. "Yes," she answered, hoping he would be receptive to her today. "1 was wondering if I might be allowed to go into the village? I would like to purchase several Christmas gifts."

He was thoughtful for a moment. "How would you like it if I were to have the horses hitched to the sleigh and drive you into the village myself?"

Her face brightened with elation. "Oh, would you, Julian?"

Julian's mouth eased into a smile. "Only if you will promise to bundle up warmly. I would not want you to catch a chill and bring Grandmama's wrath down on me."

Lavender turned to leave, happiness beaming on her face, her heart taking wings at the thought of spending the afternoon with Julian. "I promise you that I will dress very warmly," she said, hurrying out of the study before he had a chance to reconsider his offer.

Julian watched Lavender's departure, thinking how little it took to make her smile. She was not spoiled or demanding, like most women of his acquaintance. To his knowledge she had never asked for anything for herself. His lips thinned, and he yanked on the bell pull three times to summon the butler. He was not the least bit happy that Lavender seemed to be more and more on his mind lately. If he were not with her, he was thinking about her.

Instead of the butler answering the duke's summons, Hendrick walked into the room. "Where is Mackman?" Julian wanted to know.

"I told him I would see what you needed, since I wanted to talk to you anyway, Your Grace."

"All right, but first send word to the stables to hitch the horses to the sleigh and have Cullan bring them around to the front."

"Will you be needing anyone to accompany you, Your Grace?"

"No. I will be driving my wife into the village. Have foot warmers and woolen coverlets placed in the front seat."

"I will attend to it at once." Hendrick moved toward the door and then paused as if not sure how to broach the next topic. He cleared his throat and decided the direct approach was the best way. "Begging your pardon, Your Grace, but there is a gunsmith waiting in the entry room."

Julian looked perplexed. "I did not send for a gunsmith. Find out what the man wants and then tell him to come back another day."

"The gunsmith told Mackman that Her Grace sent for him."

Julian looked even more puzzled. "My grandmother? What would she want with a gunsmith? She has always detested guns."

"It was not your grandmother, Your Grace. It was your wife who sent for him. The gunsmith said he had found a buyer for her gun and is delivering the money to her."

Julian frowned. "Do you know what this is about, Hendrick?"

"I believe so."

"Well," Julian said impatiently. "Are you going to tell me or not?"

Hendrick cleared his throat. "I was told by Mack-man that Her Grace asked him if he would see that a certain gun be taken to the gun shop, where she hoped the gunsmith would purchase it at a fair price."

"How did my wife come by a gun?"

"The gun was hers. She told me it had been sent up to her bedroom by Colonel Grimsley after the wedding ceremony. I believe he returned all her belongings to her at that time."

Julian's eyes narrowed. "If she needed money, why did she not come to me?"

"Knowing Her Grace's pride, I feel sure she would never ask for anything."

"Let me see if I have this right. She wants to buy Christmas gifts, so she sold her gun to pay for them."

"As I understand it, that is correct, Your Grace."

Julian stared at his valet. "How much money did the man send her?"

"Three pounds, Your Grace."

"Go to my bedchamber and take a hundred pounds and add it to that amount from the gunsmith. Then deliver it into her hands."

"What will I say to Her Grace? She will never believe that the gunsmith was willing to pay such an outrageous price for a firearm."

"I will leave you to convince her that the money belongs to her. 1 have a strong feeling Lavender would believe anything you tell her."

Hendrick smiled. "May I say, Your Grace, that I find your wife a most delightful lady. She brings new life to Mannington and chases away some of the old shadows."

Julian frowned. "So she has you on her side, too, does she, Hendrick?”

"That is so, Your Grace. I am very much on Her Grace's side."

The sleigh, decorated with red ribbons and green holly, glided smoothly across the snow-packed road. The bells tinkled, and the horses' breath came out as frosted air. Lavender was snug and warm beneath the woolen coverlets. Pushing her cold hands into a fur muff, she gazed up at her husband, noticing that he did not appear to be so lordly this morning, and not nearly as stiff and withdrawn as he usually was.

Her eyes moved to Julian's hands that held the reins, thinking how ably he handled the four horses that pulled the sleigh. Happily she stared at the overhead blue skies. This was the first time she and Julian had gone anywhere alone together since their arrival in England.

Looking down at Lavender, Julian caught the sparkle in her eyes, that with the help of her rosy cheeks, greatly enhanced her beauty. "What do you want to purchase today, Lavender?" he asked. "You may not be aware that Mannington is but a small village and the shops do not have a large variety of merchandise to choose from."

Removing her hands from her muff, Lavender spread her list out on her lap. "I will be hoping to find a blue scarf for your grandmother." She glanced up at Julian. "She is partial to blue, did you know that?"

He smiled. "No, I can't say that I did."

"Well, she is, and I would love to give her a new silk shawl."

He glanced over to her lap. "What else have you on your list?"

"I will be looking for different colored sewing silk for Mrs. Forsythe. She loves to sew in her off-duty time."

"Is there more?"

She ducked her head. "Yes, I want to get Hendrick a new cane with a silver tip. He told me that the ivory tip came off his old cane before we left London."

A smile curved his lips. "It would seem you have put a great deal of thought into your gifts. Is there anyone else on your list?"

"Yes, but I cannot tell you, because it is for you."

"So, I am to be given a gift, am I?"

She looked at him with earnest eyes. "Well, of course. You are my husband. Don't you like surprises?"

His laughter rang out. "Only pleasant ones. In the past, you have supplied me with a few unpleasant surprises."

She gave him a guarded look. "I do not care to dwell on anything unpleasant today. I am too happy."

His eyes moved across each feature on her face. "If I am not careful, you will infect me with your happiness and have me looking forward to Christmas with all the enthusiasm of a child."

Her eyes clouded. "I am trying to make myself remember that Christmas is a time of loving and giving." She. looked up at him with a troubled expression. "It is sometimes difficult to forget certain incidents out of the past."

"My grandmother told me how your father had been wounded on Christmas Eve, and later died. I am truly sorry about that, Lavender."

She tried to smile. "It was a very sad time for me, but, like all pain, it has lessened with time."

"It would seem that we both lost our mother and father, Lavender." His eyes flashed cold for a moment. "But at least you still have your brother. Perhaps you should remember that, and be cheered."

She blinked her eyes because of the cutting edge to his voice. "I do not know what I would do if anything happened to Chandler."

He glanced at her upturned face. "You would do as I have, Lavender. You would learn to live with it every day of your life."

She felt her mood swing downward. "As I have told you before, Julian, I am truly sorry about your brother."

He guided the horses around a curve in the road. "Was your father a soldier, Lavender?"

She met his eyes squarely. "No, he was a spy. When he died, Brainard Thruston convinced me that I would be doing my country a great service if I took my father's place."

He glanced sideways at her as he aptly guided the horses up a steep hill. "It would not surprise me to hear you admit that even your aunt was spy."

Lavender laughed. "No, neither she nor Chandler have ever been spies. But it may surprise you to learn that my aunt knew all along that I was the Swallow."

"And she did not try to stop you?"

"No, because she approved of what I was doing. I believe, if she had been younger, she would have liked to have changed places with me."

As the sleigh came over the last rise, Lavender saw the village spread out before them. The charming cottages with thatched roofs were nestled among high snowdrifts. Young children were laughing and playing games, throwing snowballs, and sledding down the slopes, leaving Lavender to conclude that children were much the same all over the world.

Julian halted the horses before a small shop that was brightly decorated for the holidays. "I hope you will be able to find everything you require here, Lavender."

"Will you not be coming in with me?"

He smiled. "No, I have other business to attend to. But suppose 1 come for you in one hour? We will have lunch together at the Green Hall Inn."

"I will be finished in an hour," she said eagerly, thinking how much fun it would be to dine with Julian alone.

He lifted her from the sleigh and set her firmly on her feet. "Do you have enough money?"

"Oh, yes. I have more than enough."

She looked so adorable with her eyes shining brightly that he wanted to hug her to him. "I believe 1 should point out to you that Mrs. Livingstone, the shop owner, will be only too happy to send me the bill for any purchases you make."

"Oh, no, I would never do that. I must do this on my own. I shall try to hurry," she said, moving toward the shop door. "I know how you hate to be kept waiting."

Julian watched Lavender disappear into the shop, wishing he would understand why simple things seemed to make her happy. He wondered why he could not find that same happiness within himself. Julian glanced up and saw several village women pressing their noses to the shop windows, and he laughed aloud. Lavender would find herself the center of attention, because everyone was curious to see what their new duchess looked like.

Lavender and Julian sat at a window-front table. Lavender had enjoyed the delicious lamb pie, while the proud innkeeper hovered nearby, ready to see to her slightest need. She held her cup of hot chocolate between her fingers to warm them, while she watched the feather-light snowflakes float earthward. For today, she had been able to delude herself into thinking that she and Julian were just an ordinary husband and wife, spending a joyous day together. Now, she looked at Julian, with the proud tilt to his head, the arrogant gleam in his eyes, and realized no one would ever mistake him for an ordinary man. He had the look of a high-ranking British nobleman.

"Did you finish all your shopping?" Julian asked, breaking into her thoughts.

"Yes, and I had a most wonderful time. Even though the shop was filled with dozens of women, the shop owner was most helpful. As a matter of fact, everyone was so congenial and helpful, and I met so many new people that I cannot remember their names. I love it here in the village, because everyone is so friendly." She laughed. "They did not seem to hold the fact that I am an American against me."

Julian smiled, because Lavender did not realize that the reason the women had crowded into the shop was

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to make her acquaintance. "You will have to realize that the women think of you first as their duchess, and they are very far removed from the war in America."

"Can that be true?"

"I assure you it is. This is farming land where the craft is handed down from father to son. Very few of the village men are in the Army, and fewer still have any connections in America."