The Confessions of a Duchess (26 page)

“I have a gift for you,” he continued. “Close your eyes and put out your hand.” Lydia did as she was bid. She heard the softest chink of metal and then he placed something in her palm.

“Open your eyes.”

The clear, hard moonlight shone on the necklace in her hand, turning the links of the fine golden chain to silver. He must have been wearing it about his neck for it was still warm from his body. Lydia touched it gently, reverently. There was a ring on the chain—a thick gold band—and in the moonlight she could see it had some letters inscribed on it but the light was not bright enough for her to read them.

“They are your initials,” he said. “An
L
and a
C.
” He sounded very pleased with himself.

Lydia gave a little gasp. “But this is too costly a gift! I cannot accept it. And how could you afford—”

“Hush.” He put a gentle finger to her lips. “I want you to wear it about your neck. Do not let anyone see it, for it must be our secret for the time being.”

“Of course,” Lydia said, overwhelmed. “Of course, but—” He turned her face to his and stopped her protests with a kiss. Lydia gave a little sigh.

He must love her very dearly indeed to give her so precious a gift as this ring. She felt secure and cherished and extremely happy, and relaxed against him with a little sigh. The kiss deepened almost imperceptibly and Lydia surrendered to the sweetest, slowest and most gentle of seductions illuminated by the light of the moon.

LAURA EASED OPEN THE
wicket gate that led into the paddock and, holding her lantern high, picked her way across the field toward The Old Palace. Alice had been extremely concerned at the thought of her walking home alone in the dark and had wanted to send the carriage out again until Laura had pointed out that the journey took ten minutes by road and only two minutes across the fields on foot and she would not dream of causing Alice further inconvenience. Poor Alice had already been most concerned about her mother, for Mrs.

Lister had been
in extremis
with the effects of the prawn patties and had descended from the carriage with more speed than grace in her dash for privacy. Laura had wondered whether Sir Montague’s cook had been reduced to serving up the fish that had been intended for the stable cats in an effort to feed all the guests at the masquerade that night.

The moonlight was so bright that the lantern was almost superfluous and Laura could see her way with perfect clarity. She had walked these footpaths since she was a child and it was only the memory of the night in the priory ruins that made her grasp the lantern a little more tightly in one hand and her tiny pearl pistol in the other. At the back of her mind were Dexter’s words to take no risks and not to put herself in danger, but nothing moved in the still moonlit landscape. No men in black dominoes stalked the priory ruins, except in her imagination.

She crept up the steps to the front door of The Old Palace, found it unlocked and slipped inside. There was no sign of Carrington. The house seemed asleep.

The hall was silent and shadowed. Laura slipped the cloak from her shoulders, took off her evening slippers and started to tiptoe up the stone stair. She felt relieved to be home.

She felt safe.

She had gone no more than three steps when the door to the library opened and Dexter came out. He had her mask in his hands. Laura stopped dead. Dexter’s gaze swept over her from her stockinged feet to the pearl pistol in her hand.

He smiled faintly although the smile did not reach his eyes, which remained cold.

“History repeats itself,” he commented. “Would you mind putting that pistol down? You are making me nervous.”

“I was taking your advice not to go out unprotected,” Laura said breathlessly, stowing the pistol in her reticule. Anxiety crawled through her to find him here. She had hoped against hope that he would not follow her whilst knowing with an absolute conviction that he was not the sort of man who would let the lies between them go unchallenged. She had thought about it all the way back in the carriage and had known that the reckoning would come. She had just not expected it to come so soon.

“That was not quite what I meant,” Dexter said dryly. He took a step toward her.

“Tell me, are you always this willfully foolish in your disregard for your personal safety?”

“We have had this conversation before,” Laura said. “I was perfectly safe and you know I can shoot straight.” She raised her brows. “In fact you are fortunate I did not shoot
you
as an intruder.”

“I am sure you were tempted,” Dexter said, “but I did not break in. Your butler opened the door to me, as is customary for visitors.” He motioned toward the library. “Shall we? I want to talk to you and this is not the sort of conversation to have in the hall.” Laura hesitated and Dexter moved slightly, and she saw the look in his eyes and realized he was still angry. Her carelessness over her own safety had made him angrier still.

If she did not walk into the library herself he would in all likelihood carry her in bodily.

Her heart skipped a beat. She was very aware of his gaze on her as she passed him in the doorway. She glanced up at him and saw that there was a hard, closed expression on his face.

Dexter shut the door behind them, turned the key in the lock and leaned back against the panels.

“I don’t think that we finished our discussion earlier,” he said pleasantly. “You know what it is that I want from you, Laura. Now tell me the truth.” He shifted a little. “You sent me away from Cole Court pretending that you cared nothing for me. You said that the whole matter had been no more than a game to you. You implied you took lovers to your bed all the time. You lied to me through and through.”

Laura felt a spurt of temper. “What if I did? You were penniless. You were at the start of your career and you were eight years my junior. I was married—a duchess. I could not elope with you without ruining both our lives. I had to make you leave.” She sighed, the anger going out of her as abruptly as it had jetted up. “It was easier that way, Dexter.” Dexter came away from the door in one fluid movement, trapping her into a corner with her back against the bookcases. Laura pressed herself back against the hard edges of the shelves but she could not escape his physical presence. It almost overwhelmed her.

“It was easier to make me hate you,” he said harshly.

“If you wish to view it like that, then yes, it was!” Laura glared at him defiantly. “I knew that if you hated me you would leave and never wish to see me again.”

“I see.” Dexter spoke very softly. “I see it all now.”

“I cannot see why it matters, anyway,” Laura said. “What happened between us is all in the past. So far in the past that it is quite irrelevant and I do not intend to resurrect it.” Dexter was shaking his head. “I need to know how you felt, Laura,” he said. “You owe it to me to tell the truth.”

“Why?” Laura burst out. “It would change nothing—”

“It would give me some peace of mind,” Dexter said grimly. “Do you know how it is for me, Laura? I have been courting Lydia Cole this month past but I have found I could neither make her an offer, nor could I transfer my attentions to any other female. The reason? It is because all I see is you. All I think about is you. All I want is you.” Laura put up a hand as though to ward off his words. “Don’t,” she said helplessly.

“Don’t say that.”

“Why not?” Dexter said. “It is true. I have no difficulty in admitting the truth to you.

I wanted to marry Lydia for her money—I told you tonight that I am nothing better than a fortune hunter. Yet I find I cannot offer for any woman because I am still haunted by what happened with you. I think about it all the time and until I can lay the past to rest, I know it will always be the same. I know it will always come between me and the future.”

“Forget what happened between us,” Laura said. Her pulse was slamming in her throat now. “Forget how I felt! It does not matter. All that matters is that both you and I were saved from making a mistake that would have ruined our lives. Find another heiress, Mr. Anstruther, if you cannot court my cousin. Heaven knows there are plenty of them about! Leave the past behind where it belongs.”

“I wish that I could,” Dexter said. His face was set and dark. “I have tried. Believe me, I have tried for all the reasons I told you about tonight.” He shifted the point of his attack. “You said earlier tonight that you had been in love twice,” he said softly. “You said it was a mistake because you were not free. I was the man you loved, was I not, Laura?” The anxiety caught at Laura’s breath, smothering her. Everything was unraveling now. The danger to Hattie was acute. She had known she had told Dexter too much when they had talked earlier. And he was not the sort of man who would forget a single word she had said.

Dexter took her chin in his hand and turned her face up to his. His gaze was intent on her, steady and compelling. Laura trembled beneath his touch.

“Laura, look at me,” he said. “Were you in love with me?” The moment spun out and seemed to stretch forever. Could she look Dexter in the eye and lie to him? Her defenses were at breaking point. But if it were to protect Hattie…

“No,” she said. “You were not the man I loved.”

She saw some expression flicker in his eyes and then he had released her and turned away. She was so relieved that she took a deep, gasping breath and felt her legs tremble so much that she was afraid she would fall. She wanted to embellish the lie, to lead him away from danger, but the words would not come. Lying just once to Dexter had been almost impossible, one of the most difficult things she had ever done, a horrible echo of the words she had spoken to him four years before when she had sent him away.

“I know that isn’t true.” Dexter’s voice was flat. He did not sound surprised. He did not even sound angry with her. He turned back to her and his speculative expression did more to scare Laura than his anger could ever have done.

“You’re lying to me,” he said. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “I don’t know why it is so important to you to deny the truth, but there has to be a reason. What are you afraid of, Laura?”

She
was
afraid and she
was
lying and there
was
a reason and if he took one more step closer to the truth Laura knew that everything she had worked to protect would be finished.

He moved back toward her, his gaze intent on her face. It felt as though he could see right through her denials and evasions, and it was terrifying. Laura took a step back and felt the backs of her thighs come up against the edge of one of the bookcases. She grabbed the edge of it for support, her fingers gripping the wood until they ached. He was very close to her now. His physical presence filled her senses. She forced herself to look up at him.

“You are imagining things, Mr. Anstruther,” she said, as lightly as she could.

“Perhaps your vanity cannot accept that I did not love you?” She gave a little shrug. “I am sorry. But you said that all you wished was to be free of the past. Now you are.” There was a pause. She was held captive by the look in his eyes. She licked her dry lips and saw his gaze drop to them, then his gaze came up to hers and it was hot and glittering with something that made her stomach clench.

“You said that was all that mattered to you,” she whispered.

“I lied, too,” Dexter said.

He raised one hand from the edge of the bookshelf, slid it around the back of her neck and suddenly his mouth was hungry and hard against hers. The last of Laura’s composure splintered under the impact of the kiss. Her gasp of shock was lost beneath the pressure of his lips. He forced his hand into her hair and held her head still, his lips mercilessly plundering hers, the kiss utterly devastating in its emotional force. Laura’s head spun and the hot tide washed through her body, leaving her shaking. She placed both her hands against his chest and held him a little way away from her.

“That was what I wanted,” he said, his breathing as ragged as hers. “It is what I have always wanted.”

“We cannot rekindle the past,” Laura said. The raw, ruthless passion was racing through her blood threatening to drive all else away. She struggled for control. “Dexter, we cannot do this. Everything is different now—”

“Maybe it is not.”

He kissed her again, more gently this time, his tongue dipping and tangling with hers, teasing out a response from her rather than demanding one. The heat of his body seemed to burn her. The scent of his skin was drugging her senses. It was blissful torment. Laura could feel the whole, hard length of him against her, feel the urgency in his touch, and then he had scooped her up in his arms and carried her over to the green velvet chaise, sitting down with her across his thighs. He brushed her hair back with fingers that shook a little and scanned her face.

“Laura…So beautiful…How can I ever cure this wanting?” Dexter’s voice was a broken plea, and the heat and excitement surged within her. To be desired was the most intoxicating feeling of all. It filled her with a heady feminine power. Charles had never wanted her; he had called her cold and had shunned her bed. But Dexter’s hands on her body and his lips on hers had worshipped every hollow and every curve. Her scruples were lost in the hot and turbulent emotions he was stirring within her. She needed this comfort just as she had done four years before.

Laura put a hand to his cheek and felt the stubble rough against her palm. Dexter made a sound deep in his throat and then he had rolled her over so that her back was against the soft velvet of the chaise longue and her hair had tumbled from its pins to spread over the green cushions. He was leaning over her now and the smoldering fire in his blue eyes took her breath away.

“You may not want to tell me how you felt,” he said, “but I will tell you what it was like for me that night at Cole Court.” He raised a hand to her shoulder and slid the material of her gown down, following its path with his lips against her skin. “I wanted to make love to you,” he said. His voice dropped to a whisper. She could feel his breath against the vulnerable curve of her collarbone. “It was a dream come true for me. From the moment that I first saw you I wanted you in my bed, Laura. I was young and idealistic and you were a goddess to me. I dreamed about you, with the most vivid and passionate and downright erotic dreams of my entire life.”