The Cavendon Women (20 page)

Miles cut himself off, leaned back against the sofa, his throat tight with overwhelming emotion. He was unable to say another word as that awful night came rushing back to him in every painful detail.

Cecily, sitting in the chair opposite him, remained quiet, understanding his suffering. Her heart went out to him. Every vestige of her hurt and anger with him had dissipated in the last few weeks. She had only love for him now. Once she realized he had regained his equilibrium, she asked, “And what did you do then?”

Slowly, in a gruff voice, he explained, “At first, I did nothing. I just stood there. Frozen. I truly understood I was stuck in a place from which I could not retreat. There was no way out. And unexpectedly I thought of Caesar when he had stood at the Rubicon, wondering if he should cross the river and march on Rome. He was a Roman, about to make war on the senate and his own city. He fully understood that he would be committing treason. And for a moment he
hesitated
…”

Miles paused, took several deep swallows of the cognac, and was silent for a moment. Nursing the cognac, focusing on Cecily, he went on, “Caesar looked behind him and saw his great army. Thousands and thousands of men in armor geared up to do battle for him. He knew he had no choice. ‘The die is cast,' he said to the general by his side. And so he marched on Rome. And there was I, six years ago now, also caught in a trap. And I thought to myself,
the die is cast.
In other words, the decision has been made and is irrevocable.”

He shook his head and then put the cognac down on the table. “I knew I had to follow the road I'd been put on. Look where it got me! Unlike Caesar, who won, I did not. I lost you, and in doing so I lost everything of value in my life.” Miles put his head in his hands and began to weep, overcome by his feelings.

Cecily had tears in her eyes and she jumped up, went to sit next to him on the sofa. Reaching out, she gently pulled his hands away from his face, wiped away the tears on his cheeks with her fingertips.

She said quietly, her voice full of love, “It's all right, Miles, I am here now. I'm going to be with you for the rest of my life. And yours. No matter what happens, I will never leave you.
Never.
I promise.”

For a split second, Miles thought he had not heard her correctly. Blinking, straightening, he stared at her, puzzlement lurking in his eyes. And at that moment he saw the yearning on her face, and the love and desire for him.

Instantly Miles grabbed hold of her, pulled her into his arms, and held her close. Against her hair, he said, “Oh God, I love you so much, Ceci. I can't live without you. Life means nothing if you're not by my side.”

“And I feel the same … we must be together now, whatever happens, Miles. We can't worry about the rest of the world. It's just the two of us now.”

They drew apart, stood up. Still clutching each other, they went out of the sitting room and down the corridor to Cecily's bedroom. In the dim light they frantically struggled out of their clothes, then they stood apart, gazing at each other in disbelief.

At exactly the same moment, they moved toward each other, their arms outstretched, desire flooding their faces. They clung together in the middle of the bedroom.

The years fell away, and they were at ease with each other as they had always been. They knew what was going to happen.

They could hardly wait as thoughts of the pleasure and joy they would share took hold of them. Already their bodies were aflame, just as their thoughts were racing in great anticipation.

Cecily felt she was burning up. The heat started between her legs and was running all the way to her face.

Miles was pressing her closer to him, his hands tight on her buttocks, and she felt his hardness against her stomach. He had an enormous erection; a thrill shot through her. She could hardly wait to hold him in her arms, to love him, make him hers.

Taking a step backward, she took hold of his hand and led him to the bed.

They lay down together, stretched out side by side. Miles murmured, “I can't believe we're here together like this, Ceci. Like we used to be. It's a miracle.”

“A miracle wrought by Charlotte Swann. And I, for one, am thankful. I can't wait, Miles. I want us to make love. Now. Please touch me.
Please.
I want you so much.”

Pushing himself up on one elbow, Miles looked down at her, his love spilling out of him. “I want you too. I'm aching with desire for you, Ceci. I feel as if I'm about to explode. But I'm also afraid to touch you, to begin … because I'll devour you too fast. I want to love you, give you pleasure, and savor you. It's been so long, I want our loving to last for a while, not be over in a few minutes.”

Looking up into those bright blue eyes she had known and loved for as long as she could remember, she said, “Whatever you wish, Miles. I do know I
need
you to touch me everywhere, have your hands all over me. It must be the way it was before. We must do the same things we did to each other back then…” Her voice trailed off.

He remembered those years, before his marriage, and vividly so; her words only served to inflame him. He grew even harder, bent over her, kissed her passionately. His tongue went into her mouth, curled around hers. She responded ardently and he went on kissing her, their tongues entwined. Her arms were around his back, her hands tight on his shoulder blades. She was trembling, her passion for him soaring.

Responding to her fervency, Miles kissed her breasts and nipples. They hardened, exciting her more, and thrilling him. A moan escaped her lips and he knew instantly she was ready for him, wanted to possess him, have his body joined to hers.

He held himself still for a moment, endeavoring to control his own surging desire. And then he gave in to it; he just couldn't help himself. They were both at fever pitch.

Slowly he began to stroke her breasts, running his hand down over her stomach and onto her thighs. He let it linger there for a moment, and then he found her womanhood, touched her the way she liked. As his strokes became more insistent, he felt the beginning of her spasms. She stiffened, crying out.

Miles stopped abruptly. He moved her legs, rolled on top of her, and slid into her expertly. Wanting to share her oncoming pleasure, he went deeper, filling her with himself. His hands slipped under her buttocks and he lifted her closer to him. Then he stopped moving, realizing he was on the very edge.

“Mine,” he mumbled, his voice thick with desire. “Mine.”

“Forever,” Cecily whispered, and thrust her body against his. Her long legs went high around his back, and she gave herself up to him completely. Her arms were hard against his shoulders, her hands in his hair.

“Is this what you want?” she asked, her voice as hoarse as his.

“Yes, oh yes,” he moaned. His passion flared, grew more intense. He was wallowing in the warm damp heat of her, the velvet softness. She was his woman. There could be no other. And he was her man, the only one who could turn her into this voluptuous lover, the only man who could give her pleasure.

Cecily was whispering his name over and over again. They were both filled with the same urgent passion they had shared time and again, aware it was a melding of their bodies and souls. They belonged to each other. Waves of intense pleasure carried them into a state of ecstasy, and when they reached the pinnacle they were one being, one soul, and were complete.

*   *   *

Miles lay on top of Cecily, for a moment unable to move. He was weak from pleasure, love, and total happiness.

Realizing he was probably too heavy, he slid out of her, curled his body around hers, and kissed the back of her neck. “I'd like to stay the night, Ceci. Can I?”

“I wouldn't have it any other way,” she answered, smiling.

“Is Mrs. Granger off until Monday?” he asked.

“She is, yes.”

“Shall we stay in bed for the entire weekend then?” Miles said, grinning.

“I thought you'd never suggest it. Of course. And there's plenty of food; we can have picnics in bed.”

“And make love,” Miles added, and pulled her into his arms. “Starting right now.”

 

Twenty-seven

After she hung up on Miles, Daphne's hand remained resting on the receiver, her expression reflective, her mind on Cecily and Miles. He had spent the night with her. They were back together. They were in for trouble, she was certain of that.

She worried about Miles. What if Cecily decided she did not want to marry him? After all, she had a huge business. Cecily might break his heart in the long run, by rejecting him if he became free.

Daphne sat back in the chair, glancing around the library. She couldn't help thinking, yet again, what an enormous room it was.

In fact, the whole house was enormous. They didn't need a house as big as this in London; the family hardly spent any time here. We could sell it, she thought, her mind always on money these days. If her father agreed. Before going off on his honeymoon, he had confided that he planned to spend more time in London, now that he was married to Charlotte.

Sighing under her breath, Daphne rang the bell for Eric Swann, the butler, whom they called Eric because there were so many Swanns around.

She walked over to the fireplace and stood with her back to it, liking the warmth of the flames. It was a cool day for September, and there had been a chill in the air for several days.

A moment later there was a knock on the door, and Eric entered. “Yes, m'lady, do you need me for something?”

“I do, Eric. Please close the door and come in. There are a couple of things I need to speak to you about.”

The butler nodded. Eric Swann had a good look of Walter Swann, Cecily's father. They were first cousins but could easily be mistaken for brothers, so alike were they in appearance. Both of them were striking, tall, and carried themselves well. The London butler was as devoted to the Inghams as Hanson was in Yorkshire, and in particular to Lady Daphne.

Once Eric was standing next to her near the fireplace, Daphne said, sotto voce, “I have to confide something, Eric. I know it will go no further.”

“I took the oath, Lady Daphne,” Eric reminded her, putting out his clenched hand. “Loyalty binds me.”

She placed her clenched fist on the top of his, and repeated, “Loyalty binds me.” A moment later, she drew closer, and murmured in the same low voice, “Can you provide me with someone who can pick a lock?”

If the butler was startled he did not show it. “It all depends, my lady. If it's an innocent picking of a lock, I can do that myself, with a small tool I have. Do you have a problem with a lock in the house, Lady Daphne?”

She shook her head. “No, I don't, and it's not so innocent either, Eric, I'm afraid. That's why I asked for your confidence. Let me explain.”

Eric listened attentively as she told him about the missing jewels and the discovery made in July, on the day of the earl's marriage; the absence of Felicity on holiday in France; her return to London only recently; and now the necessity of reclaiming the pieces.

“It's been very frustrating for me,” Daphne explained. “Not being able to do anything for so long. However, now that my mother is back I must go to her house and get the jewels. They're in a locked cupboard. Wilson is my ally, and she will do anything to help. I just need a plan.”

“Doesn't Wilson have the key to the cupboard, m'lady?”

“No, she doesn't. My mother keeps that key herself. And Wilson has no idea where she hides it.”

Eric gave Daphne a long, thoughtful look before saying, “If you have to get the jewels yourself, actually steal them, then you obviously believe Mrs. Pierce won't give them to you willingly. Is that the case, Lady Daphne?”

“It is. You see, she'll be mortified. So embarrassed that she's been caught out, she'll lie. She'll say she doesn't have them. And there's another reason … she wants to keep them.”

“I understand,” Eric replied, and he did. He had never liked the countess when she was married to the earl, had considered her a tricky woman with some sort of an agenda of her own. He had been suspicious of her for years. After a moment, Eric said, “With all due respect, m'lady, if there's any lock picking to do, it's going to be me doing it, not you. However, that may not be necessary. Is there any chance that Wilson could get hold of the key for just a few minutes?”

“I honestly don't know. Why?”

“I could get her some soft wax, which she would have to keep on her at all times, and she could press the key into it and get an imprint. I have a good locksmith who could then copy the key.”

“I think that might be a bit complicated for Olive; she's rather nervous as it is.”

“Is there a reason his lordship can't go and see her? And simply demand the jewels? Wouldn't that be the best thing?”

“I know my father would be willing to do that, Eric, but I know she'll deny it. Anyway, I don't want him troubled. You know he hasn't been well. It would be awful if he had another heart attack. She'll be beastly to him. I heard on the grapevine that she's been rather mean about him … since his marriage.”

“Yes, m'lady,” Eric responded, knowing full well what she was talking about. He said, “I have several chaps I know, who know other chaps, who could pick a lock in two seconds. But they would obviously have to do the job when Mr. and Mrs. Pierce were out for the evening. Or away for the weekend.”

“I understand. I'll have to send Lady DeLacy to see her, because at the moment I'm not very popular. We have to mend our fences, winkle our way in again; that'll give us a chance to know her plans and find the opportunity to do the job.”

“What job?” Dulcie asked as she came into the room. “Are you talking about the jewels again?”

Daphne nodded.