Silk and Shadows (24 page)

"Don't go yet, Lady Sara." He raised one hand commandingly. "I have just begun."

Reluctantly Sara sat down again, her hands clenched around her folded fan. There couldn't possibly be any truth in Peregrine's charges, but having agreed to listen, she supposed she should hear him out. If she could show him how wrong he was about Charles, it could prevent trouble for her betrothed.

"A housemaid heard Weldon and his wife shouting on the landing moments before the accident. Then there was a scream, and the sound of a falling body," Peregrine said. "The maid was the first one on the scene, but Weldon was gone, and his wife was already dead of a broken neck. Weldon came home an hour later, claiming he had been at his office."

Sara felt a faint, chilling finger at her nape. Could Charles possibly have been so angry that he had given in to a brief, violent impulse? Feeling disloyal for even thinking it, she asked, "If a crime was committed, why didn't the girl report it to a magistrate?"

"Because Weldon had her kidnapped and sent to a brothel," Peregrine said harshly. "After several months she died there, but not before she told another girl what had happened. I have an affidavit sworn by the second girl, but it is hearsay evidence and inadmissible in court."

"And since the original housemaid is dead, the story is impossible for Charles to refute." Sara shook her head, utterly unable to reconcile the prince's accusations with the dignified, familiar man she had promised to wed. "That is why hearsay is not evidence—there is no way of determining the truth."

"If that was the only charge against Weldon, perhaps one could give him the benefit of the doubt, but there are dozens of such incidents." He gave a deeply cynical smile. "Isn't there an English expression, no smoke without fire? Weldon is surrounded by the smoke and fire of hell itself, and I'm going to see that he burns."

Sara's eyes narrowed as his words triggered a flash of insight. "This has nothing to do with me, does it? It is about Charles. I thought you were his friend, but I was wrong. You hate him," she said softly. "Everytime you and I have been alone, you have made some oblique remark against Charles. Because I would not listen, you have invented this parcel of lies. It will not work, and I will not stay here to listen to you slander an honest man." She stood and walked toward the door, but she had to pass Peregrine to do so.

He blocked her path and caught her by the upper arms, his clasp light but implacable. "Yes, I hate him, but that does not mean that I am lying." His eyes blazed like green fire. "Weldon is corrupt to the depths of his black soul. He is the prince of hypocrites, infinitely dangerous because he pretends virtue while performing the most despicable deeds."

Sara's belief in her betrothed faltered briefly under the force of the Kafir's conviction. Then she shook her head. "Charles has been a friend of my father's for a dozen years. Why should I believe your unsupported word against him?"

"When I am a foreigner, and he is an English gentleman? Indeed, why should you believe me?" His voice dropped, became rich with intimacy. "Don't you know the answer to that, Sara?"

His grip loosened as his hands skimmed down her arms in a sensual caress, then went around her waist. When he bent to Sara's upturned face, she tried to pull away, but he would not release her. "Believe me, Sara," he said huskily. "I am many things, most of them bad, but in this I tell the truth. Charles Weldon is evil."

She shivered as his lips touched a sensitive spot below her ear, then made a leisurely journey down her throat. "Weldon delights in destroying innocence," he murmured, the subtle touch of his breath another caress. "I won't let you become another of his victims."

As he kissed the juncture of throat and shoulder, his forefinger traced the curve of her ear. Sara gasped as melting sensations flowed and shifted deep inside her. How was he able to evoke such a reaction when she had not known herself capable of feeling it? From the beginning she had been aware of his mesmerizing allure, but never had it been this shatteringly strong. She felt immersed in a river of fire that dissolved her will, leaving her helpless.

"Stop doing that," she said weakly, wanting to push him away but unable to summon any resistance.

His embrace tightened, pulling her against the hard length of his body. As he stroked and shaped her back and hips, igniting wants and wishes, he said, "You wish me to stop? All you have to say is that you don't desire me.''

"I—I can't say that I don't want you, but don't think that you will change my mind with kisses when words didn't work." Without conscious volition, she reached up and slid her hands around his neck. Her fingers brushed under his silky black hair before linking over the taut, masculine muscles. "And you can confuse me, but I will never be so confused that I will forget that I promised fidelity to another man."

"I know that, sweet Sara, and I value your maddening, incorruptible sense of honor," he said, his voice as soothing as his hands were not. "But though I cannot seduce you, for a few moments I want to hold you close, no matter what you believe, no matter what the future brings."

His words unleashed a rush of longing, doubt, and confusion, somewhere between dream and nightmare. The sin was in wanting one man when she was pledged to another, but she could not deny her desire. So if the sin was already committed, why not continue doing what she so much wanted for just a little while longer? Knowing that the house was full of people would keep her from losing what remnants of sanity and morality she still had. "I know this is wrong," she whispered, her eyes clouding with desire and despair, "but for just a moment more, because there can never be another time…"

Decision made, Sara stood on tiptoe so her mouth would reach his, and kissed him with the fierceness that he had taught her. Her eyes closed, and her hands tightened convulsively on his shoulders at the first touch of tongues.

Peregrine had guessed at her potential for passion, but even so he was startled by her intensity. As his own desire flared out of control, he forgot why he had brought her here and what would happen soon, forgot everything but her yielding body and painful honesty. He had not been so aroused since he was a lustful boy. Ah, God, she was sweet, with all the dangerous fire of innocence. And dangerous Sara certainly was, for she dimmed his sense of mission.

The thought helped restore his control. Breaking the kiss, he guided Sara's pliant body back to the sofa and lowered her onto the leather as waves of amber silk spilled around her. Then he lay on his side next to her, their bodies meeting in a full-length embrace, one of his knees between hers.

She squirmed against him, burying her fingers in his hair and pulling his head closer as he spread one hand across the smooth, bare flesh above her decolletage. She was as sleek as her own silk but far warmer, and she shimmered with response, her breathing quick and rough. He slid her dress off her shoulder and kissed the tender curve revealed. Dancing had left her skin flavored with delicate saltiness, and a sweet floral fragrance from her loosened hair mingled with the musky scent of leather.

His hand glided under the neckline of her gown, beneath the constraints of corset and chemise, and molded the soft warmth of her breast. Her nipple instantly tightened when his fingers found and teased it, and he felt the rapid beat of her heart under his palm.

In a distant corner of his mind, he admitted that he was glad that words had not changed her mind. He had wanted an excuse to do this, and not just because passion was a surer way of separating Sara from his enemy.

He tugged her gown still lower, baring the gentle swell of her breast. Then he took the dusky nipple in his mouth, delighting as it grew harder yet under the pressure of his tongue. As Sara moaned softly, once more he came perilously close to losing himself in desire, even though he knew it was a self-indulgent mistake.

The clock in the back of his mind was warning that the half hour was almost over, and he knew that he must conceal this lovely curving breast again. In just one more moment he would…

The squeal of the opening door hit with the impact of icy water. They both looked up to see the horrified faces of Ross, the Duke of Haddonneld, and Sir Charles Weldon.

It was a moment from hell, time suspended and saturated with emotion. Sara gave a choked cry of dismay, her slim figure going rigid as stone. Peregrine swore softly. While he had intended to compromise her, he hadn't meant her to suffer the additional shame of being discovered half-undressed. Under his breath he said, "I'm sorry, Sara."

Instantly changing from lover to warrior, he yanked her gown back into place. Then he sat up and pulled Sara to a sitting position next to him, his left arm protectively around her.

The three intruders seemed frozen by the unexpected scene. The duke was appalled and unbelieving at the sight of his virtuous daughter in the throes of passion, while Ross glowered with a fury that must be rooted in the suspicion that his friend had deliberately deceived him.

But Peregrine noted Ross and the duke only in passing, for most of his attention was on Charles Weldon. His enemy's expression of shock, disbelief, and annihilating rage was everything Peregrine had ever hoped for, and he exulted in the sight. The first blow had been struck—but not the last.

Then the moment shattered. As Ross closed the door to give them privacy, Weldon fixed his furious gaze on Sara and snarled, "You filthy,
disgusting
little slut!"

Though Peregrine could feel Sara trembling under his arm, she did not try to avoid the accusing eyes of her betrothed. "I'm sorry, Charles," she said, her voice unsteady. "I did not mean to hurt you."

Her apology inflamed him rather than mollified him. "Instead you meant to betray me behind my back." Weldon exploded across the room, his expression murderous. "My God, to think that I believed you were pure, a genuine lady. But you're just another little whore. I'm going to…"

Peregrine stood and stepped in front of Sara, but it was Ross who stopped Weldon, grabbing the older man's arm. "Control yourself! I don't care how outraged you are, you can't take it out on a woman half your size."

Weldon spun against the restraining grip, and for a moment seemed on the verge of attacking Ross. Then common sense put a fragile check on his madness. He glared at Peregrine, who stood only a yard away. "I told Sara to stay away from you, that you couldn't be trusted, and the little slut pretended to be shocked at the very idea of you touching her," he said viciously. "How long has she been spreading her legs for you?"