Through The Leaded Glass (15 page)

“
Not that, Shelton. This.” Farley
pulled a jeweled necklace from his sack.

Alex had never seen it before. “How can I have
stolen that if you hold it in your hands? Leave on your own accord,
Farley, before you no longer can.”

Proving he had less smarts than one of the
hounds, Farley took a step closer. “It was stolen from Calista by a
man wearing your colors. He threatened her life for it.”

“
But, again, you have it.” Even
more tiresome than Farley’s claims of thievery was the man’s
mistress. Calista sought him out at any opportunity, the same as
she’d done with Frederick, who, for once, had shown some
restraint.

“
That’s because I found it,
Shelton. Staked to a tree. With this.” Farley flourished a piece of
parchment from his coat.

Alex ripped it from his grasp.
This
was
no ploy by a bored and avaricious woman. This was
serious.

This parchment had been with the Shelton
ring—
and
had been in its hiding place yesterday morning. Of
that, Alex was certain, for he’d checked each item. “Where did you
get this? Don’t tell me it was with the necklace. This is a
deed.”

Farley smiled. “I know. To the land one of
your forefathers took from my family. This is my proof.”

Alex tapped the deed against his lips. “Or
mine.”

“
What?”

“
How is it, Simon, that you came by
this deed? It was hidden with other Shelton papers. One might call
you
the thief.”

“
You accuse me? How
dare—”

“
I dare because I am in the right.
And if you wish to keep your head, I suggest you tell me exactly
how you found and removed that deed from my private
papers.”

“
Removed—?You’re mad!” Farley
lunged for the deed.

Alex held it out of his reach. “No. I’m angry.
How did you breach my security? How did you know where it’d
be?”

Farley’s face reddened as he drew his knife.
Kate, smart lady, slid her chair to the side.

“
I didn’t steal it, Shelton. I’d
never debase myself to go skulking around your castle like a dog
after its master’s leavings. You planted it with the necklace you
stole to mock me. To prove you could. I demand
satisfaction.”

“
Why would I do that? I already had
the deed and have no need of jewels. You’re mad to think I’d
bother.” Alex moved the blade aside with one finger. “Put your
weapon away. There are more daggers aimed at you at this moment
than you can count. Unless you wish to leave spouting your life’s
blood, I suggest you sheath your weapon.” Though Alex wouldn’t mind
if he didn’t—it’d be the perfect excuse to end this rivalry for
good.

“
The king shall learn of this.”
Farley, finally exhibited some intelligence, lowered his
blade.

“
Do your best. Henry won’t believe
it even if I were to give you back the deed. Which I won’t. It was
forfeit to my father in a joust victory.” He rolled the deed and
put it in the purse at his waist. “Now, I’ll allow you two minutes
to leave my hall. After that, you and your men shall be fair game.
My men are aching for a fight.”

Farley sheathed the knife. “The king will see
you for who you are, Shelton. A thief and a liar. Your days as his
loyal minion are numbered.” He flipped his cloak over his shoulder
and strode from the room as if the hounds of Hell were after
him.

If Farley had anything to do with the thefts
at Shelton, Alex would ensure they would be.

He sent four men after Farley, then waved the
musicians to begin.

“
There’s your thief, Alex.” Kate
leaned over the table. “All you need to do is turn him in to the
king.”

“
Unfortunately, Kate, I need more
proof these papers to accuse him. If Farley keeps to his story of
finding them nailed to a tree, Henry won’t condemn a loyal man on
hearsay. However, if more papers were to be found in his
possession—” He stood. If other papers were stolen and then found
with Farley, the pendulum of guilt would swing that way. Alex
stalked around the table.

“
Where are you going?” Kate
asked.

“
To see what else is missing.
Nothing but the ring had been removed yesterday.”

Kate pushed back from the table. “Well, let’s
go see.”

“
No, Kate. You remain here.” He did
not need the image of Kate in his chambers to torment him as the
memory of their last kiss did.

Besides, no one, not even his future countess,
could know where the earldom’s documents were kept.

Even though it appeared someone already
did.

Chapter Eight

“
You may leave now.”

Nick ignored Isobel’s command and took her
cloak from her. God’s blood, the woman’s will was stronger than an
oak, her mouth sharper than his sword.

And he loved all of it. All of her.

But her ridiculous idea of marrying
Alex—especially now—annoyed him, though she wouldn’t be Isobel if
she didn’t annoy him. It was so enjoyable to return the favor. And
the fight that invariably followed…

Ah, how he loved Isobel after a
fight.

Her feet tapped sharply on the floor as she
stalked away from him. He watched her go for a bit, enjoying the
enticing sway of her dress.

She knew he watched. She always threw back her
shoulders in that manner when he watched.

“
Issy.”

She paused, then quickly resumed her
pace.

“
Issy.” A bit louder.

“
Don’t call me that!” she hissed,
spinning around, her hair fanning behind her. Just as it did on his
pillow.

“
Then don’t walk away from me when
I want to speak to you.”

“
You presume too much, Lord
Caversham.” She tilted her chin, eyeing him down her long,
delectable nose as he walked over to her.

He hid his smile. She tried so hard to keep
their titles between them, to deny what was between them. Except in
bed.

Then
bed
was where he would convince
her.

“
What I presume,
Lady
Marston
—”he circled around her, his shoulders brushing hers—”is
that, as the only man in your bed during this past year, I will
continue to be.”

“
Alex will.”

“
End this, Issy. Unless Alex can
find the gypsies or what Kate is searching for, he is no longer an
option. As the king and the people now know.” Her rose-scented skin
teased him. He closed his eyes and inhaled, wanting to burrow into
the hollow of her neck all night long.

He planned to.

“
Then I will be betrothed to
Wexham.”

The despair in her voice washed away his
swagger. For all her bravado, Issy was deathly afraid of Wexham. He
couldn’t blame her. The man had buried three wives and more
daughters within the last dozen years. All “mishaps” as Issy had
said, with nothing proven against him. Marriageable women were
afraid of Wexham, but after Alex, he was the man with the largest
holding and highest rents. Rents that would well serve this new
king.

“
Or you could come to me.” He
whispered his lips along her jaw. “Come
for
me.”

Issy groaned when he reached her ear. She
always did.

“
Nicholas,” she breathed, just as
he’d expected.

He tilted her chin up, seeing the tears in her
eyes. They moved him. As always. He was a pawn to her
tears.

He kissed her lips, fanning his fingers along
her cheekbones, pushing the headdress off so he could trail through
her silken fall of hair. He felt the shudders go through her and
she clenched his arms with small, graceful fingers that could bring
such pleasure to his naked body.

“
Nicholas, make me forget,” she
whispered against his lips, then offered him the long expanse of
her smooth throat.

“
No, Issy, I’ll help you remember,”
he growled against the pulse in her neck. “I’ll make you remember
how you burn for me, how I yearn for you. How good it can be
between us.” His fingers remembered her as he skimmed them over her
bodice, resting lightly against those sweet peaks that hardened
beneath the fabric.

Her breath hitched and he smiled. It was
always like this, would always be like this. He swept her into his
arms like a bride, and strode up the stairs to her
chamber.

“
Nicholas… Dalfour… the
servants…”

“
Hush, Issy. There’s no one else.
No one but you and me. You should realize that by now.”

Her chamber door yielded to his boot as easily
as she yielded to his kisses. He kicked it behind him as Issy slid
down his body in a way designed to torture him. She was tiny, but
held the power to move him more assuredly than any cannon in the
king’s artillery. Her kisses, quick and demanding against his
throat, the tiny gasps beneath them, only fueled his desire
more.

He held her face, staring into those blue
eyes. Eyes he wanted to see every day for the rest of his life.
“There’s no hurry, Issy. We’ve all night. Let’s savor
it.”

“
Savor later, Nicholas. For now,
banish these thoughts, these fears. Make me forget. Make me not
even think about them. About
him
.”

The one thing able to incite him to more than
passion was jealousy. He hauled her against him, her mouth even
with his, noses touching, gaze burning into hers. “Trust me, Issy,
there will be no thoughts of any other man between us.”

He kissed her, his tongue plundering the
sweet, hot recesses within, sparing no mercy. The thought of any
other man touching her drove him to burn his touch, his body, into
her very soul. She was his.

She speared her hands through his hair, giving
every bit as fiercely as he did. He ran a hand over her gown,
pulling at the ties that would reveal her to his gaze, fumbling
with them in his haste. The damn things might as well be in knots
and he didn’t have patience to wait.

He set her before him, their chests rising as
they stared at each other. He kissed her again, then gripped her
bodice. “I’ll buy you another.” The rending fabric tore through the
chamber like the crash of thunder in their heated
silence.

It also tore through the mood.

At least, it did for Issy. Nick knew it
instantly. She stood there in her slippers, the dress gliding down
her slender body as it shimmered in the moonlight and he felt her
stiffen. Saw reality come back to her.

“
Issy—” He held out his
hand.

“
No.” She grabbed the puddle of
fabric at her feet, her fingers fumbling with it as she tried to
cover herself. “No, Nicholas. You can’t.
I
can’t.” Issy
pulled the crumpled blue dress to her chin, and combed her hair
forward to cover herself as her tears tore out his
heart.

“
Why, Issy? Why is it different?”
He struggled through the haze of passion to understand, to know why
she denied them. Why she fought against their marriage. She granted
him her bed, but denied him this.

“
I can’t, Nicholas. What you want,
what I—” She turned her head away.

“
What you what?” He grabbed the
dress.

Issy tugged on the gown, refusing to yield.
“Go, Nicholas. Before we do something we’ll regret.” She turned her
back to him.

That magnificent back, with its hollows and
softness, the tiny shoulders, those soft dimples in her lower back,
the rounded cushion of her derrière… He had kissed every inch of
her back, every inch of her. She couldn’t turn away from him and
expect him to leave. Not now.

“
I’d never regret it,
Issy.”

“
But I would.”

Her words, spoken so softly he wouldn’t have
heard them if he hadn’t been listening for his very life, cut him
in two. In hundreds. Thousands of shards of pain.

“
Why?”

“
Your words… the dress… They
reminded me...” She looked over her shoulder at him, her profile
perfect in shadow.

“
Reminded you?”

“
Don’t you see, Nicholas? Don’t you
see what I am? What I’ve become?” She flourished her dress. “You’d
buy me another. Once we made love, you’d buy me another gown. How
is that different from Wexham? He would buy me jewels, clothing,
provide dowries for my daughters, all after I lay with him. Alex,
too. Provide him an heir and the glories of the Shelton vault are
mine.”

The tears streamed down her face, creating a
tiny pool in the hollows of her collarbone. Nick struggled to
understand.

“
What does this make me, Nicholas?
What?” She’d be screaming, if her anguish hadn’t turned her voice
to choking sobs, her shoulders shaking as if she were cold but for
the blaze in her cheeks. “A whore. A prize to the highest bidder.
All for a moment of passion. Don’t you understand?”

“
You aren’t a whore, Issy.” He
yanked her to face him, her slight shoulders safely guarded in his
scarred hands. “That’s the last thing you are! You’re—”