Seduction (44 page)

during the first months of his marriage when he still believed Elizabeth loved

him. After the second dawn meeting he must have realized he could neither

control my sweet Elizabeth's spirit nor terrorize every man in the country so he

abandoned all efforts to avenge his honor where a woman is involved."

"And that is why you do not fear him. You know he will not challenge you because

of me?"

Waycott took another swallow of tea, his eyes focused intently on the fire. "Why

would he challenge me over the issue of your honor when he did not bother to do

so over Elizabeth's?"

Sophy sensed a thread of uncertainty in Waycott's voice.

He was trying to convince himself as well as her that he had nothing to fear

from Julian. "An interesting question, my lord," she said softly. "Why would he

bother, indeed?"

"You are not half so beautiful as Elizabeth."

"We have already agreed upon that." Sophy watched, her stomach knotted with

tension as Waycott took another sip of tea. He drank mechanically, his mind on

the past.

"Nor do you have her style or charm."

"Quite true."

"He could not possibly want you as badly as he wanted Elizabeth. No, he will not

bother to call me out over you." Waycott smiled slowly above the rim of his cup.

"But he may very well murder you the way he murdered her. Yes, I think that is

exactly what he will do when he finds out what has occurred here today."

Sophy kept silent as Waycott took the last swallow of tea. Her own cup was still

full. She held it cradled in her palms and waited.

"The tea was excellent, my dear. Now I should like some of the bread and cheese.

You will serve it to me."

"Yes, my lord." Sophy got to her feet.

"But first," Waycott drawled slowly, "you will undress and put the Ravenwood

emeralds around your throat. That was the way Elizabeth always did it."

Sophy went very still, searching his eyes for some signs of the herb's effect.

"I do not intend to undress for you, Lord Waycott."

"But you will." From out of nowhere Waycott produced a palm-size pocket pistol.

"You will do exactly as I say." He smiled his too brilliant smile. "And you will

do it exactly as Elizabeth did it. I will guide you every step of the way. I

will show you precisely how to spread your thighs for me, madam."

"You are as mad as she was," Sophy whispered. She took a step back toward the

fire. When Waycott did nothing, she took another and another.

He allowed her to retreat nearly the length of the room and then with casual

brutality he yanked on the rope that bound her ankle.

Sophy gasped as she tumbled awkwardly to the hard stone floor. She lay there for

a moment, trying to steady herself and then she looked fearfully at Waycott. He

was still smiling but there was a dazed quality in his eyes now.

"You must do as I say Sophy, or I will be obliged to hurt you."

She sat up cautiously. "As you hurt Elizabeth that night by the pond? Ravenwood

did not kill her, did he? You killed her. Will you murder me as you did your

beautiful, faithless Elizabeth?"

"What are you talking about? I did nothing to her. Ravenwood killed her. I told

you that."

"No, my lord. You have tried to convince yourself all these years that Ravenwood

was responsible for her death because you do not wish to admit you were the one

who killed the woman you loved. But you did. You followed her the night she went

to visit Old Bess. You waited by the pond for her to return. When you realized

where she had gone and what she had done, you were angry with her. Angrier than

you had ever been."

Waycott staggered to his feet, his handsome face contorted with violence. "She

went to the old witch to ask for a potion to get rid of the babe, just as you

did today."

"And the babe was yours, was it not?"

"Yes, it was mine. And she taunted me, saying she no more wanted my child than

she had wanted Ravenwood's." Waycott took two unsteady steps toward Sophy. The

pocket pistol waved erratically in his hand. "But she had always claimed she

loved me. How could she wish to get rid of my babe if she loved me?"

"Elizabeth was incapable of loving anyone. She married Ravenwood to secure a

good position and all the money she needed." Sophy edged away from him on her

hands and knees. She dared not rise to her feet for fear Waycott would pull the

rope again. "She kept you dangling on her puppet strings because you amused her.

Nothing more."

"That's not true, damn you. I was the best lover she'd ever taken to her bed.

She told me so." Waycott lurched to one side and stopped. He dropped the rope

and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his free hand. "What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing's wrong, my lord."

"Something is wrong. I don't feel right." His hand dropped from his eyes and he

tried to focus on her. "What did you do to me, you bitch?"

"Nothing, my lord."

"You poisoned me. You put something in my tea, didn't you? I'll kill you for

this."

He lunged at Sophy who leapt to her feet and stumbled blindly out of his path.

Waycott fetched up against the stone wall near the hearth. The pistol fell,

unnoticed from his hand and landed with a small clinking sound in the basket

that had held the food.

Waycott turned his head to locate Sophy, his eyes wild with fury and the

inevitable effects of the drug.

"I'll kill you. Just as I killed Elizabeth. You deserve to die, just as she did.

Oh, God, Elizabeth." He leaned against the stone wall, shaking his head in a

vain effort to clear it. "Elizabeth, how could you do this to me? You loved me."

Waycott began to slide slowly down the wall, sobbing. "You always said you loved

me."

Sophy watched with horrified fascination as Waycott cried himself into a deep

slumber.

"Murderer," she breathed, her pulse leaping with rage. "You killed my sister. As

surely as if you had put a gun to her head, you killed her."

Her eyes flew to the basket on the hearth. She knew how to use a pistol and

Waycott deserved to die. With an anguished sob she ran to the basket and looked

down. The pistol lay atop the glittering emeralds. Sophy leaned over and scooped

up the small weapon.

Holding it in both hands she whirled about to point the pistol at the

unconscious Waycott.

"You deserve to die," she repeated aloud and released the pistol from its

half-cocked position. The trigger, which was designed to fit into a small recess

for safety's sake, dropped into firing position and Sophy's finger closed

hungrily around it.

She stepped closer to Waycott, her mind summoning up the image of Amelia lying

on her bed, an empty bottle of laudanum on the table beside her.

"I will kill you, Waycott. This is simple justice."

For an endless moment Sophy hovered on the brink, willing herself to pull the

trigger. But it was no good. She could not find the courage to do it. With a

wrenching cry of despair she lowered the pistol, returning it to the half-cocked

position. "Dear God, why am I so weak?"

She put the pistol back into the basket and knelt to fumble with the rope around

her ankle. Her fingers shook but she managed to free herself. She could not take

the emeralds or the pistol back to Ravenwood. There would be no way to explain

them.

Without a backward glance she opened the door and ran out into the night.

Waycott's horse nickered softly as she approached.

"Easy, my friend. I have no time to put a saddle on you," Sophy whispered as she

fitted the bridle onto the gelding. "We must hurry. Everyone will be frantic at

the Abbey."

She led the gelding over to a pile of rubble that had once been a fortified

wall. Standing on the heap of stones, she adjusted her skirts above her knees

and scrambled up onto the horse's back. The animal snorted and danced and then

accepted her unfamiliar presence.

"Do not worry, friend, I know the route to the Abbey." Sophy urged the horse

into a walk and then into a gentle canter.

As she rode, she tried to think. She had to have an explanation ready for the

worried staff who would be waiting for her. She remembered the sound of her

mare's hoof beats disappearing into the distance when Waycott had kidnapped her.

Her horse had apparently run off and would undoubtedly have gone straight home.

A riderless horse returning to Ravenwood Abbey would mean only one thing to the

stable lads. They would assume Sophy had been thrown and, perhaps, injured.

Search parties would have been combing the woods around the Abbey all afternoon

and evening.

It was as good a story as any, Sophy decided as she guided Waycott's horse

around the pond. She certainly could not tell anyone she had been kidnapped and

held captive by the Viscount Waycott.

She dared not even tell Julian the full story for she knew that Waycott had been

wrong when he claimed the Earl would not engage in another duel over a woman.

Julian would call Waycott out if he discovered what the Viscount had done.

Damn. I should have killed Waycott myself when I had the chance. Now there is no

telling what lies ahead. And I shall be forced to lie to Julian.

She was so dreadfully inept at lying, Sophy thought fearfully. But at least she

would have time to prepare her tale and learn it by heart. Julian was still

safely away in London.

It was not until she saw the lights of the Abbey through the trees that Sophy

realized she would have to abandon Waycott's gelding. If she was going to claim

she had struggled home on foot after a riding accident she could not show up on

a strange horse.

Dear heaven, there was a lot to be considered once one started conjuring tales.

One thing led to another.

Reluctantly, because she still had a long walk ahead of her, Sophy slid to the

ground and turned the gelding loose. A slap on the rump sent it cantering off

down the path.

Sophy picked up the hem of her riding habit and started walking quickly toward

Ravenwood Abbey. Every step of the way she cudgeled her brain, trying to put a

believable story together for the waiting servants. She must have every bit of

the tale in place or she would surely trip herself up.

But as she stepped out of the woods that surrounded the great house, Sophy

realized she had a much bigger task ahead of her than she had anticipated.

Light spilled from the open doors of the front hall. Footmen and stable lads

scurried about readying torches and in the moonlight Sophy saw that several

saddled horses were being led from the stables.

A familiar dark-haired figure in riding boots and stained breeches stood halfway

up the left staircase. Julian was issuing orders in a cold, clear voice to those

around him.

It was obvious he had just arrived which meant he had left London before dawn.

Sophy knew real panic in that moment. She had been finding it difficult enough

to organize a story for the servants who would be bound to believe anything she

told them. But she was very much afraid she was in no condition to lie

convincingly to her husband.

And Julian had always claimed he would be able to tell if she tried to deceive

him.

She had no choice but to make the attempt, Sophy told herself bracingly as she

started forward again. She could not allow Julian to risk his life in a duel

over her honor.

"There she be, my lord."

"Aye, thank the good God, 'tis safe she is."

"My lord, my lord, look, over there at the edge of the woods. It be my lady and

she's safe."

The loud cries of heartfelt relief brought everyone around to the front of the

house as Sophy walked out of the woods. She wondered with a sort of wretched

amusement how much of the relief her staff felt was occasioned by the fact that

they had been forced to explain her absence to Julian.

The Earl of Ravenwood swung his gaze instantly toward the trees and saw Sophy in

the moonlight. Without a word he loped down the stone staircase and crossed the

cobbled yard to catch her roughly in his arms.

"Sophy. By God, you have nearly killed me with worry. Where the devil have you

been? Are you all right? Are you hurt? I could thrash you for terrifying me so.

What happened to you?"

Even as she reminded herself of the ordeal that lay ahead of her, a tumultuous

sense of relief poured through Sophy. Julian was here and she was safe. Nothing

else mattered just then. Instinctively she huddled into his strong embrace,

leaning her head against his shoulder. Her arms tightened convulsively around

his waist. He smelled of sweat and she knew he had driven himself as hard as he

must have driven Angel.

"I was so afraid, Julian."

"Not nearly so afraid as I was when I arrived a few minutes ago to be told your

horse had returned late this afternoon without you. The servants have been

searching for you all evening. I was preparing to send them out again. Where

have you been?"

"It… it was all my own fault, Julian. I was on my way home from Old Bess's

cottage. My poor mare was startled by something in the trees and I was not

paying attention. She must have tossed me off. I hit my head and quite lost my