Realm 03 - A Touch of Cashemere (26 page)

So, where did that leave her? Unwanted. Tolerated. She was the middle sister, the one unnoticed by anyone. Velvet, even before their parents’ deaths, had been coddled, held with the highest esteem. Cashé had always thought Satiné a bit self-centered and pampered, but it was she, the one discarded, who had possessed the greatest variety in her traits–in opposition to either of her siblings. Cashé had viewed herself as independent and generous. She had recognized how others thought her emotionally withdrawn and distant, but Cashé considered herself social and knew, despite a quick temper, she could be a strong negotiator. “Then why did no one want me?” she murmured, her chest constricting with the hurt.

Unfolding the letter, she took a deep breath and read what she had not seen several weeks prior. Although addressed to her, Aldridge’s letter was actually an attack on Uncle Charles. He told her he was leaving her in the care of a “pernicious braggart.” Lord Averette referred to Thornhill as “the spawn of a black-hearted degenerate.” He offered a prayer for her and Velvet’s future. Her uncle had disparaged Charles Morton, Brantley Fowler, and Lord and Lady Worthing. In fact, the letter said very little about or to her. Uncle Samuel did not even apologize for leaving her behind.

The latter part of the letter declared Uncle Charles’s accusations of Averette having a part in his brother’s accident as “ludicrous”–a denial that immediately piqued Cashé’s curiosity. The viscount asserted a love for his brother. Why would Uncle Charles allege such an affront without ground? She knew the baron had once served in a group similar to the one in which Lord Yardley and Viscount Lexford belonged. Uncle Charles would not lightly make a charge without evidence. “What kind of evidence” she asked the empty room.

Her Uncle Samuel’s adieu was an additional denial of something in which he had once taken pride. He disputed his lack of charity within the church. “Well, that is one area in which no one may question Uncle’s integrity.”

Cashé wished Lord Yardley had remained in Cheshire. She would like to discuss with him what the letter revealed about both her uncles. She had recognized the breach existing between the Aldridge and the Morton families long ago, but she had never realized Uncle Charles had thought Uncle Samuel could purposely hurt his own brother. Even as a small child, she was aware of how her grandmother would vehemently turn on her youngest son. How she would say, “You would make an acceptable clergyman, I suppose–never a soldier. You do not have the heart of a man who could murder another. You can never be to me what my Edward is.” Had Kentigerna Aldridge prodded Uncle Samuel into doing something he would never have done otherwise?

What bothered Cashé at the moment was that she did not immediately believe Uncle Samuel incapable of such an action. Cashé had known Lord Averette’s anger–his unreasonableness–his desire to shame a child before family and friends. Could not a man who taught hate in the name of love devise a plan to seize his brother’s title?

“Enough,” she chastised herself aloud. “I only have a few minutes. I can dwell on the information I find later.” Putting the letter aside, Cashé read through the beribboned bundle. Some were bills of sale; others were notes and letters. Some made sense–others did not.

“I wonder if I should replace these before the viscount and Satiné return?” she remarked after perusing each sheet of paper carefully. She restacked the pages in the same order and closed the heavy parchment over the sheets. Then she retied the ribbon before picking up two heavy tomes from her end table and inserting the bundle between them. She would pretend to visit the library and go through the patio door and in through the window in her uncle’s study. Lexford and Satiné had been gone for over two hours. They would return soon for nuncheon.

Slipping from her quarters, Cashé nonchalantly made her way through the near empty hallways, pausing for a maid to see her enter the library, before closing the door.

Behind the closed portal, she hustled through the open patio doors and around the house to the study’s window. Clinging to the shadows, Cashé stepped over and through the casement. The door remained closed from earlier in the day, and she rushed about the room to restore the items to where she had found them. Finally, having it all in place she exited the same way she had come in, through the tall, narrow window, shutting it more firmly this time.

She had just reached the patio when she heart Mr. Whitcomb calling her name. Swiftly the library door swung wide, and a distraught head servant rushed forward. “Miss Aldridge,” the man’s hands nervously played with a watch chain, “I am grateful I located you. We may have a problem, Miss. His Lordship’s horse returned to the stables without the gentleman.”

A knot twisted her stomach. Could Jamot have come to Manchester? “Perhaps the viscount and my sister are on one horse. However, we should send someone to seek them out.”

“I took the liberty, Miss, of dispatching men to search for His Lordship and Miss Satiné.”

“Thank you, Mr. Whitcomb. I am certain it is nothing serious. Lord Lexford is quite capable of handling any problem. I have no fear for my sister’s safety.” She said the words because they were true, but a deep need to rush into the protective embrace of Marcus Wellston swelled her chest. “You will keep me abreast of the search.”

“Certainly, Miss.”

*

He was going to kiss her. She would receive her first kiss from Viscount Lexford, and Satiné wanted it more than anything else. The fact that he had called her by her twin’s name bruised the experience, but she was set on replacing the viscount’s interest in Cashé with real affection for her. She had thought it a good idea that he would kiss her. Whether Lord Lexford knew it or not, he would be making a comparison between the sisters, and Satiné was determined to win his heart.

Instinctively, she allowed her lips to part in invitation, and then his mouth took possession of hers in a powerful need. The viscount’s arms came about her, and Satiné slid her arms around his neck.

*

He had told her at Linton Park that he would wait for her to make the adjustments to her new life, but surely she had welcomed his desire. Her gaze had simmered with heat, and she had closed her eyes in anticipation. “Miss Aldridge,” he had breathed her name before lowering his mouth to hers. He had made himself go slower than his body demanded. She was truly an innocent, and although he had blazed to an arousal, Lexford gently caressed her neck’s curvature before pulling her closer and tightening his embrace. Even through their many layers of clothing, he could feel her heat rising.

Somehow, this kiss was different from the one in Linworth’s garden. The first one had been nothing but chaste. Cashé Aldridge had not responded then, but now she pulled herself closer, plastering her breasts to his chest. She clutched his lapels before sliding her arms around his neck.

Lexford slid his tongue along her lips’ line–her soft moan lending him encouragement. When she opened further, he slid his tongue into her mouth, tasting the soft recesses and sucking gently on her bottom lip. He splayed his fingers across the back of her neck, holding her in place as he reached to remove her hat. Then he caught her about the waist again before escalating the kiss.

“You are magnificent,” he gasped as he feathered kisses across her cheek, ear, and neck before returning to her mouth in a fiery, while tender, possession. His mouth plundered hers leisurely, and the lady rewarded him by venturing a lick of her tongue across his lips.

Pulling away, they both panted, fighting for breath–chest rising and falling rhythmically. “My goodness, Darling.” He kissed her temple. Unable to resist, he traced the outline of Satiné’s kiss swollen mouth with his fingertip. Her flushed face increased his need. “Might I kiss you again, Sweetheart?”

Satiné nodded briefly, and Lexford’s smile reached his eyes. He did not hesitate–his blatant desire heightened by her enchanting silence. His lips pulled at her ear lobe before he revisited her mouth. The smell of her–lemons, he thought–and that was odd because he would have sworn that Cashé always wore jasmine–intoxicated him. As the urge to hold her forever encroached on his sanity, Lexford pressed Satiné backward to lie upon the smooth rock face, his body draped across hers. He did not care any longer about the baron or Jamot or the Realm. Only the lady in his arms mattered; he was lost completely to her.

He had not heard the man’s approach. Then the blow rattled his brain–sending shades of black where light had just been, and although he fought it, the pain and the darkness won out, and he crashed in a wounded heap upon her.

She should have sensed the danger when the shadow spread over them, but the viscount’s kiss had taken away all her reason, and Satiné had thought only of how delicious it would be to tell Cashé that she too knew the difference between a tender kiss and a demanding one. Then a gush of air and Lexford’s mouth being ripped from hers brought a blood-curdling scream as His Lordship’s body collapsed heavily upon hers.

The scream continued as she clawed at the viscount’s body pressing solidly upon hers; she had shoved at his shoulders to leverage her hands between their bodies. Even when she realized the annoying scream had come from her, Satiné could not stop. Then large hands replaced hers on Viscount Lexford’s shoulders, and his body rolled easily away from hers. Yet, before she could react, a gruff-looking man, built like a wooden column, jerked her to her feet.

“You be comin’ with me!” The stranger manhandled her, shoving Satiné away from where the viscount laid upon the rock face.

“His Lordship?” Satiné gasped when she saw the blood pooling on the outcropping’s smooth surface.

Her captor frowned. “Ye be not worryin’ on the viscounty’s behalf,” he ordered as he dragged Satiné toward the waiting horses.

She pulled hard as where his large hands wrapped themselves about hers. “We cannot leave him. He could die!”

The stranger refused to loosen his grip. Instead, he had grabbed her about the waist, lifting her from the ground and carrying her from the scene. Other than a grunt when she had kicked his upper thigh, he had said nothing else. The distance between her and Lexford increased, and Satiné began to fear she would never see him again.

“Release me!” she yelled close to the man’s ear. “Release me at once. My uncle is a baron. He will pay you to leave me alone.” Her fists beat a tattoo upon his chest, but nothing Satiné did made a difference. The man had her tightly clamped to him. “Please set me free,” she wailed.

“We be goin’ home,” her captor growled through gritted teeth.

When they reached the clearing beyond the woods, Satiné saw the small coach waiting along the access road, and her heart froze with fear. “Do not...” she began, but the man caught her in a very uncomfortable grasp and threw Satiné over his massive shoulders. She pounded her fists against his back in a weakened effort.

Reaching the small coach, her abductor jerked the door open and unceremoniously tossed her upon the carriage’s floor. “Do not do this,” Satiné pleaded, trying to scoot away from him. “I will pay you to set me free.”

He ignored all her efforts to negotiate her release. Grabbing a rag he had left on the seat, the stranger leaned forward, his face inches from hers. “I be takin’ ye home,” he sneered. “Ye belong to me, gel. I told Averette that I would have ye one way or the other. I will see ye as me wife, Cashémere.”

Satiné understood now. The man thought she was her twin. “I am not...” she uttered, but the stranger had caught her about the neck, his enormous hand covering her mouth with the rag. Satiné struggled to breathe, thinking he meant to kill her, but the darkness crept across her mind, leaving her helpless in his grasp. The last thing she saw was the carriage’s roof as it descended toward her.

*

He groaned and forced his body to roll to the side, reaching for where the pain radiated through his head. Finding the sticky blood on his fingers did not surprise him, but Lexford frowned just the same, creating a new wave of sharp pains crossing his brow.

Through a deep breath, the viscount opened his eyes and shoved upward to brace himself on his shoulder and forearm. He had realized something was not right, but it had taken him a few moments to remember that he had been kissing Cashé Aldridge before someone had struck him. “Cashé,” he grunted, looking around for her. Was she hurt? The pain throbbed into his extremities, but Lexford gritted his teeth and rose to a seated position. Turning his head slowly, he searched for any sign of his companion. One glove remained at his feet, and her bonnet sat several feet away, but Miss Aldridge was not in the immediate vicinity. The horses still stood where he had left them. So, she had not gone for help. Therefore, whoever struck him must have taken her. Lexford did not know how long he had been unconscious, but he recognized the urgency of his situation.

Shakily, he rose to his feet and staggered toward the tethered horses. Reaching for his mount, he took the reins and a determined hold on the horn and lifted himself to the saddle. Another deep breath came before he kicked the animal’s flanks with his heels. He had gone less than one hundred feet before he found himself reeling in the seat, trying to hold onto the reins to keep his balance, but the blackness was back; and he could do nothing to resist it. Titan shifted to the side, or he did, but the ground rose up, and Lexford smacked hard against it as he slid from his perch upon Titan’s back. The air rushed from his lungs, and the viscount welcomed the emptiness.

*

“Mr. Whitcomb, is there any word?” Cashé had begun to pace the front foyer. Satiné and Lexford had been gone for five hours, and no one had seen them.

“None, Miss Aldridge.” The man looked as distraught as she.

“How many men do we have searching for them?” she demanded.

“Twenty, Miss. Mr. Stewart and I decided to send them in pairs. The men have been given specific areas to search and orders to report back here when they are finished. That way we know where everyone is at all times.

“That seems most prudent.” Cashé walked to the nearest window to stare out. She wondered where the viscount might have taken Satiné. Cashé did not believe that Lexford would hurt her sister; yet, she could not shake the feeling that Satiné was in trouble.”