Andrea Kane (40 page)

“And he’ll match the writing on the sketch to that on one of the samples,” Slayde concluded. With a gleam of triumph, he turned his head to meet Oridge’s astonished gaze. “I believe you should offer Miss Johnston an apology. It appears she made extraordinary use of her time with the sketch.”

“I believe I should offer Miss Johnston a job,” Oridge returned dryly. “Her plan is ingenious.”

“Thank you, gentlemen.” Courtney grinned. “But the plan is useless without a plausible excuse to give the staff. Why on earth would we ask them to do this?”

“Because we suspect one of them has been aiding me in my escapes from Pembourne,” Aurora announced.

Three heads whipped about to face her.

“ ’Tis the perfect dilemma!” she continued. “Every servant at Pembourne knows how incensed Slayde becomes when I manage to escape, successfully eluding detection. Well, what if I’ve been managing more frequent and successful escapes of late? What if the guards were ordered to investigate—and they did, only to find an unassuming note propped alongside the back entrance, maybe concealed by a portion of the shrubs that frame the door. A note that read ‘Use this door for coming and going.’ Delivering the note to Slayde, they would all conclude that I’d been receiving help in my attempts to flee—help from someone inside Pembourne. Slayde, of course, would be irate, determined to find out who my coconspirator was. Thus, the need for writing samples—to compare with the original note, which no one will actually see. ’Tis ideal, because we needn’t fabricate an elaborate and unbelievable lie. Every staff member will know
what
we are doing—but not the truth behind
why
we’re doing it. Why, even Courtney would be required to participate. After all, she is the likeliest candidate for my accomplice. And if Slayde would go so far as to question the honor of his betrothed, not even the culprit will guess our true purpose. He’ll participate—
and
play right into our hands. Because if you look closely, you’ll see that every one of the words in my fictitious note is contained in the message on this sketch. So we’ll be providing Grimes with all he needs to do his job.”

“Aurora, how brilliant!” Courtney grabbed her friend’s hands and led her into a victorious jig. “Not only brilliant, but flawless. Isn’t it, Slayde?”

Slayde stared from Aurora to Courtney to the sketch. Then, he turned to his investigator, a grin of disbelief curving his lips. “Oridge—you’re fired.”

“I
’M GLAD YOU RECONSIDERED
and kept Oridge on,” Courtney teased as Slayde escorted her to her bedchamber.

“Only because I can’t be in two places at one time,” Slayde joked back. “Else he’d be gone.” Sobering, he added, “I intend to stand guard over you all night and have him do the same for Aurora. I’m not taking any chances with either of you.”

He opened the bedchamber door—and collided with Miss Payne.

“Oh, pardon me, my lord,” she said, turning three shades of red. “I didn’t hear you coming. But ’tis Matilda’s night off. So after I turned down Miss Johnston’s bed, I awaited to see if she needed anything.”

“Thank you, Miss Payne,” Courtney replied. “That’s very kind of you. But there’s nothing I require.” She hid her smile as Slayde strolled into the bedchamber, causing the housekeeper to blanche.

“I’ll see to Miss Johnston,” Slayde informed Miss Payne, unbothered by her reaction to his scandalous behavior. “Despite Matilda’s absence, she’ll want for nothing.”

The housekeeper looked as if she might faint, and Courtney felt a wave of sympathy. “I’m sorry if we’ve shocked you,” she leaned forward to murmur. “Despite appearances, ’tis only a minor indiscretion. Lord Pembourne and I are to be married within a fortnight.”

Miss Payne swallowed. “Married?”

“Yes, but don’t breathe a word. We’ve told only Lady Aurora, Lexley, and the Viscountess Stanwyk. We’ll be announcing it to the entire staff tomorrow. So, please, keep our secret. And, again, forgive Lord Pembourne’s less than proper behavior—and mine.”

“Yes. Of course. Congratulations. I understand. Good night.” Miss Payne backed off, then hastened down the hall.

“Slayde, you’re impossible,” Courtney said, shutting the door and biting back laughter. “The poor woman nearly collapsed, she was so mortified.”

“I really couldn’t care less. I’ve never lived my life for others. I don’t intend to start now.” He paused, glancing at Courtney. “Unless it upsets you.”

“I’ve never made a secret of how little protocol means to me,” Courtney answered. An impish grin curved her lips. “Although I had wondered if you, like Mr. Oridge, planned on spending the night in the hallway.”

Slayde’s gaze intensified, his eyes darkening to a deep, smoky gray. “I’d planned on spending the night in your arms,” he said in a husky voice that sent shivers down her spine. “Unless you turn me away.”

In answer, Courtney turned the key in the lock, crossing over to stand before him. “Never,” she breathed. Reaching up, she untied his cravat. “I’ll never turn you away.” She unbuttoned his waistcoat and shirt, parting the material and pressing her lips to his exposed, hair-roughened skin. “I love you too much.”

Slayde growled deep in his throat, swinging Courtney into his arms and carrying her to the bed. He dispensed with her gown and chemise in several sharp, urgent motions, lowering her to the waiting sheets and stepping away only long enough to tear off his own clothes, his restless gaze raking every bare inch of her as he did.

Unashamedly, Courtney drank in his magnificent nudity, reaching her arms out to him and whispering, “Slayde—hurry.”

It was all he needed.

With a wracking shudder, he covered her nakedness with his, tangling his fingers in her hair and angling her mouth to receive his kiss.

“Yes,” she said against his lips, her fingers caressing the powerful muscles of his shoulders and back, stroking down to his buttocks, which went taut at her touch.

“God, you drive me crazy,” he muttered, devouring her mouth with hot, hungry kisses, melding her tongue with his.

“I can tell.” Experimentally, she arched, feeling the answering pulse of his body, his rigid length throbbing against her belly in its desperate need to be one with her.

“Do that again and I’ll be inside you in a heartbeat,” he rasped, lowering his head to her breast. Slowly, deliberately, he drew her nipple into his mouth, licking maddening circles about the aching tip until Courtney thought she’d die. Abruptly, he gave her what she craved, his lips enveloping the peak, tugging powerfully—once, twice, then in a hard, steady rhythm, punctuating each motion with a lash of his tongue.

“Oh…God.” Courtney bit her lip against the scream threatening to erupt. Lightening shot from her breasts to her loins, her womb clenching as liquid heat pooled between her thighs.

Wildly aroused by her response, Slayde shifted to her other breast, inflicting the same torture, gently holding her hips to prevent their undulating motion. “Not yet,” he answered her unspoken plea. “Not yet.” He reached down, slipped his fingers between her thighs—and was nearly undone by the satiny wetness that greeted his touch. “Perfect,” he said thickly, his fingers gliding inside, his thumb finding and stroking the tiny bud that begged for his touch. “So…utterly…perfect.”

Courtney sobbed his name, arching against his hand, begging him to stop, each roll of her hips wilder, more abandoned.

“You’re so beautiful.” Feeling her inner muscles quiver against his fingertips, Slayde quickened his motions, shuddering as he battled back his own release, which clawed at his loins despite the fact that he had yet to enter her. “So close,” he rasped. “You’re so close. Let me feel you.”

“No…Slayde, no.” Courtney shook her head, her hair a glorious tangle on the pillows. “I…no.” Blindly, she reached between them, her fingers finding and surrounding his turgid shaft, caressing skin too achingly sensitized by nerves too raw to breaking.

“God…Courtney.” Slayde went utterly still, gritting his teeth against the feral shout exploding in his chest, flames igniting in his loins. Of its own accord, his body moved against her palm, seeking a more erotic contact, desperate to know the effects of her touch.

Taking full advantage of the moment, Courtney squirmed away, wriggling down the bed until she could worship him with her mouth, love him in the same magnificent way he had her.

She’d scarcely begun when Slayde dragged her back up.

“Stop!” he commanded, lifting her hips and plunging deep, deep inside her. “Courtney…”

He poured into her even as he roared her name, throwing back his head and succumbing to the shout he’d fought to suppress. Unendurable pleasure screamed along his nerve endings as Courtney convulsed around him, cried out his name, hard spasms of completion overtaking her, clasping at his length and intensifying his climax beyond bearing. He gripped her thighs, opening them wider, lifting her into him to give her every iota of sensation, every drop of his essence.

Courtney cried out again, clutching Slayde with arms and legs and inner muscles that contracted around him in what had to be the most exquisite of tortures.

They collapsed in a joined heap, dragging air into their lungs, shuddering with the lingering tremors of their release.

Minutes drifted by, melded into a blissful stretch of timelessness, a bone-deep contentment—of their bodies, yes, but more profoundly, of their souls.

An eternity later, Slayde raised his head, kissed Courtney’s closed eyelids, her flushed cheeks. “I love you.” Tenderly, he framed her face between his palms, brushing her lips with all the soft kisses he’d intended, but which their urgency had earlier precluded.

Courtney’s arms came up to encircle his neck. “Am I still alive?” she murmured.

A chuckle. “If not, then neither am I. In which case, I don’t give a damn. So long as I’m with you, I don’t care where I am.”

“Either way, it’s heaven.” Courtney’s lashes lifted and she smiled. “Utter, eternal heaven.” She kissed the damp column of Slayde’s throat. “I love you, Lord Pembourne.”

Fierce emotion darkened his gaze. “And I adore you, soon-to-be Lady Pembourne.”

That caused a pucker to form between Courtney’s brows. “Lady Pembourne—I hadn’t considered that. In marrying an earl, I become a countess.”

Slayde rolled them to one side, wrapping his arms securely about his future bride. “Is that approval or disapproval I detect?”

“Would it matter?”

“No. You’re marrying me anyway.”

She laughed. “Tell me, then: are countesses permitted such abandoned behavior in the bedroom?”

“Absolutely. ’Tis a requirement of the peerage.”

“I see.” Courtney’s shoulders were shaking. “And are countesses permitted to ravish their poor, unsuspecting earl husbands repeatedly?”

“Without so much as a moment’s recovery time.”

“Ah. And are countesses—”

“Yes.” Slayde covered her mouth with his, kissing her until her breath was coming in quick, heated pants. “Most definitely—yes.”

“Very well, then,” Courtney managed to say, quivering as Slayde hardened inside her. “I suppose I’ll adapt.”

“Slayde?” Courtney whispered, securely nestled in the warm circle of his arms.

“Hmm?”

“Earlier, when you spoke about your confrontation with Morland, the sudden change in your perspective—what caused it?”

Slayde gathered her closer, gazing across the dimly-lit room. “Several things: you, the new depth of understanding your love has brought me…” A smile. “And a very unusual cup of tea.”

Courtney twisted about, raising up so she could make out Slayde’s expression. “You went to see Mr. Scollard.”

“I did indeed.”

“Oh, Slayde.” She flung her arms about his neck. “I’m so glad.”

“So am I, actually. He’s astounding, your Mr. Scollard. ’Tis as if he can see inside you. Oh, speaking of seeing,” Slayde teased, caressing Courtney’s cheek, “I evidently both see and hear quite well now. Whatever deficiency I had is gone. According to Mr. Scollard, I’ve found my way.” All teasing vanished, supplanted by an emotion too vast to contain. “Thank God that way led to you.”

Courtney’s eyes misted. “ ’Tis the same for us as it was for Mama and Papa—you, the ship, and I, the lighthouse. Neither is complete without the other.” She brushed her lips to Slayde’s, her prayer as reverent as his. “Thank God we
both
found our course.”

Her choice of analogies reminded Slayde of the fierce commitment he’d sworn to fulfill. “I’m going to make everything right, Courtney,” he vowed fervently. “You’ll see.”

Puzzled, she searched his face, somehow sensing he referred to more than just the mystery they had yet to resolve. “I know you will.” A speculative pause. “Tell me about your visit with Mr. Scollard.”

Damn, but her insight was staggering.

Warning bells sounded, and Slayde cautioned himself to tread carefully, to refrain from any mention of Arthur Johnston and the possibility that he was alive. “I stopped by on my way to confront Morland. Mr. Scollard was expecting me.”

“Naturally,” Courtney murmured.

“He congratulated me on our forthcoming marriage
and
on my amazing transformation. Then he made me tea.”

Courtney grinned. “Given your preference for rational explanation, you must have been utterly astounded.”

“At first, yes. But once I stopped grappling with what I couldn’t understand and just accepted it, I began enjoying our chat. He commended me on leaving Oridge to oversee you and Aurora, and urged me to go on to Morland, to face my ghosts.” Slayde’s expression darkened. “He did caution me that after today, I was not to leave you alone, that you would be in danger. When he said those words, I nearly gave up the idea of riding to Newton Abbot and dashed back to Pembourne. But Scollard insisted that, for this one day, you’d be fine without my protection. Now that I consider it, he already knew Morland was innocent. He also knew that I had to recognize it for myself. His exact words when he sent me off were ‘So long as you’re confronting the duke, the peril will be held at bay.’ Naturally, I assumed he meant the peril and Morland were one and the same; that if Morland was at home, engaged in a confrontation with me, he couldn’t be at Pembourne hurting you. But when I verbalized that thought, Scollard replied, ‘Those are your words, not mine.’ If that wasn’t an allusion to the fact that my suspicions were misdirected, I don’t know what was.”