A very wicked christmas, p.21
A Very Wicked Christmas, page 21
The realization struck her like a blow. She wasn’t just in love with him, subject to a silly infatuation. She loved him. More than that, she’d loved him, deep in her heart, for five long years.
“I misjudged you,” he said. “On second thought, don’t ask Lettice about incubi. She’ll just clam up. She’s far too fond of obeying the rules.”
“Which rules?” When he didn’t reply, she probed further. “About being an incubus? About sending dreams?”
“We’re not supposed to tell anyone about it,” he said.
We. “There are more incubi?”
“Yes, a few. We’re not exactly commonplace.”
She still wasn’t sure she believed him. “How does Lettice know, if you’re not supposed to tell?”
“You’ll have to ask her, but as I said before, she’s unlikely to answer.” His wolfish smile was rueful and unsure.
Which made him even more attractive. She shivered with longing. She wanted to fling herself into his arms. Instead, she held herself still.
“You’re an exception to the rules as far as I’m concerned, but—”
“But probably not to her.”
“As I said, she obeys the rules.”
“And you don’t.” This excited her even more than the discussion of erotic matters.
He snorted. “Rules imply exceptions, and I find that exceptions usually work better for me. I’m not above obeying the occasional rule if it makes sense.”
“But not because it’s a rule,” she said, liking this very much. “Some rules do make sense, but others are like to drive me mad.”
“So break them.”
“I tried that last night, and no one believed me!”
“Reputations do tend to persist,” he said a touch bitterly, and she recalled Miss Tripp’s words of the night before. A decent man…better than his reputation leads one to believe.
Fine, but some aspects of his behavior didn’t bear that out.
“Yours is so rock solid as to be unassailable,” he said. “They accepted that you would go to desperate measures to avoid marrying Gentry—the best catch on the market today—on the strength of the many highly eligible suitors you have already turned down.”
“Because I didn’t l-love them,” she said.
“Strangely enough, no one set forth that explanation. Speculation ran on whether you have a terror of intimacy with the opposite sex, or—I beg your pardon?”
“Nothing,” she said, smothering a groan. On the contrary, she yearned for it. With him.
His lips curled in comprehension, which made her yearn even more. Her blood heated. Desire captivated her. What would happen if she kissed him…?
“Do you intend to keep to your purpose for this visit?” His voice, hard and harsh now, shattered her thoughts.
Shame suffused her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
“Difficult, isn’t it?”
God, yes. Torment.
“To return to the previous topic: the other suggestions are that you remain unwed due to fear of childbirth—with which the ladies sympathize—or covert Sapphism, with which they don’t.”
She took a deep breath, tugging her thoughts back where they belonged. “Sapphism?”
“You have been kept ignorant, haven’t you? Physical attraction to other women.”
“Oh,” she said. “No.” Must everything boil down to sexual matters?
“Yes, almost everything,” he said with disconcerting perception. “Perhaps you should leave, before we do something you’ll regret.”
“Very well,” she muttered. Would she regret it? He’d just made it clear that he wouldn’t. With a sigh, she returned to the door, which he opened with the turn of a boss. She went through. It felt slightly safer out here. She was sorely tempted to leave with his cloak, and therefore his aroma, clutched about her.
No. That would be stupid. Yes. She couldn’t make up her mind.
Oh! “One more question,” she whispered. “What is a French letter?”
He shook his head, tut-tutting. “My dear girl, you do play with fire. It’s a sheath to cover a man’s cock.”
It wasn’t the least bit safer out here. Desire shimmered through her veins. She should probably ask why a man would cover his cock—what a marvelous word that was—but instead, she only wanted to see what his looked like. Felt like…
“Nobody likes wearing them much, and sometimes there’s a problem with lubrication—hence that recipe you saw.”
She scarcely heard his explanation, so fierce was the fire that glowed and grew within her. She almost wept with the fight for control.
He moved close, took her chin in one hand, and planted a firm kiss on her lips.
She moaned. “Oh, God. Oh, God.”
“Off you go, darling. I love you dearly, but I won’t take advantage.” He turned her forcibly toward the way out of the passage, patted her quickly on the derrière, and shut the door behind her.
~ * ~
That, of course, was a lie. Oh, not about loving her, but he fully intended to take advantage.
She’d taken his cloak! After an internal struggle, if he wasn’t mistaken. What an excellent sign.
He grabbed the thickest coverlet off the bed and followed her at a discreet distance. After assuring himself that she was safely in her chamber, he made his way to the scullery and up the narrow staircase to the space behind her room. He rolled himself in the coverlet and prepared for a cold, uncomfortable night.
He had several excuses for this. One, he needed to protect her, in case Lord Staves came up with some idiotic plan. Two, although he didn’t need to be this close whilst sending a dream, it might help ensure absolute clarity. Three, one didn’t neglect to press an advantage when time was short.
He wondered how much Jane remembered about those dreams—not the frankly erotic bits, but his professions of love that went with them.
He gave her plenty of time to fall asleep, and then, for the first time in his life, he sent a deliberately non-erotic dream.
~ * ~
She lay in Colwyn’s arms, drowsy and warm. His voice, low and soft, drifted in and out of the clouds of sleep.
“Five long years I have waited for you, my one true love.”
“I love you with all my heart; I am not worthy to kiss your feet.”
“Do you know when I fell in love with you, five long years ago? Do you remember?”
“Marry me, sweetheart.”
“I love you, love you, love…”
~ * ~
The idea came to him in the darkness before dawn. Why not make use of whatever lingering hope Lord Staves cherished of trapping Jane and Gentry into marriage? It would have to be convincing; the old man had probably had enough of looking like a fool.
But if she as well as Lord Gentry seemed disheveled, rumpled, thoroughly kissed…
The perfection of the idea lay not only in accomplishing Amabel Tripp’s mission, but in giving Colwyn a valid reason to spend more time with Jane.
Not just with her, plotting with her. There was nothing like the intimacy of a plot to inspire liking, confidence, trust…and perhaps passion as well.
~ * ~
When Jane woke, it was still dark. She lay warm under the covers, still wrapped in his cloak, remembering those beautiful dreams, wondering whether Colwyn had sent them. They weren’t like the other dreams; these were softer, gentler, comforting. Well, except for the bit about kissing her feet. That made her toes curl.
He’d said he had loved her for five long years. Asked her if she remembered when he’d fallen in love with her.
Of course she did; or rather, she remembered the day she’d fallen in love with him.
Was last night’s dream one of his, or actually hers?
He’d said he wanted to marry her. True, or her wishful thinking? Most likely those dreams were phantoms of her own deluded mind.
One thing she knew for sure: Last night, before sending her back to her bedchamber, he’d told her he loved her. Out loud, in real life, not in a dream.
Did he say that to every woman he seduced?
Rap RAP. Rap RAP.
Jane hopped out of bed, clutching the cloak. She moved the dressing table away from the door and opened it.
Colwyn leaned against the wall, wrapped in a blanket. His hair was mussed, his eyes heavy-lidded, as if he had just wakened. He smiled at her and put up a hand. “Don’t worry, I haven’t come to seduce you.”
Why not? she thought grumpily. “You want your cloak back.” With more than a twinge of regret, she proffered it to him.
He took the cloak and grinned, again as if he read her thoughts. “Wise of you; if you keep it here, the maids will talk.”
She hadn’t even thought of that, only that she wished to keep something of him close beside her.
“I can’t stay long,” he said. “The servants will be up and about any minute. May I come in? We must speak in complete privacy, and although I don’t think anyone is eavesdropping, one can never be sure at Staves.”
“Very well.” Her heartbeat quickened in spite of herself.
He came in and shut the secret door. What did he really want?
“I have a plan for which I need your help.” He tossed the cloak and blanket over a chair. “I should probably consult Amabel Tripp first, but there’s no time.”
No, definitely not seduction, thought Jane sadly—which was probably all for the best, seeing as she wasn’t ruined anymore. She blinked the remnants of sleep from her mind. “She told me she knows you well.”
“We were both spies during the war,” he said.
“Spies?”
Jane must have shown her shock, for his face fell. “Yes, along with Lord Valiant and some others, we were members of a most ignoble profession.”
“That explains why you were obliged to lie so very often.” What a relief. “Were you in France?”
“No, Miss Tripp and I worked here at home, rooting out traitors and French spies, but please don’t tell anyone. Miss Tripp’s involvement must remain a secret.”
“I won’t tell. How very brave of you both. It sounds horribly dangerous and not ignoble at all.” Something frightful occurred to her; had she compromised a mission of espionage? “Oh, I’m very sorry I unmasked you! If I’d known it was you, I wouldn’t have.”
“You wouldn’t?”
“Definitely not! I would have assumed you had a good reason for it.”
“Why? I’d just done my best to seduce you in a particularly underhanded way, and an imposter is an imposter, whether you know him or not.”
“I would still have been angry, but I would have asked for an explanation.” She frowned. “Would you have told me the truth?”
“I will now,” he said. “It was to get closer to you, sweetheart. I couldn’t gain access to Staves Court except in disguise. To send an erotic dream, I conjure up a scene of carnal activity in my mind and imagine sending it to my, er…”
“Victim?” she shot out.
He grimaced. “To a prospective lover. It’s a useful talent when one is a spy.”
She made a face. “I can see why.”
“It works best if the dream doesn’t have to travel far. Hovering outside your London house in the winter fog was all very well for a start, but how much better to be in the same building as you.”
Where he could seduce me. Those dreams had been his all along… But she still didn’t know about last night’s.
His smile was rueful. “It was the wrong approach; I know that now. Fortunately, the unmasking harmed no one but me.” He straightened, his posture urgent. “Sweet love, before I tell you about my plan, I must warn you: if it fails, you may find yourself ruined again.”
“Very well.”
His brows knit. “You do understand, don’t you? Once may be forgiven, but twice, not likely. You won’t get off so lightly this time.”
“In other words, they’ll draw the right conclusion about me,” she said. “I rather enjoyed being ruined. I felt so free…”
~ * ~
He couldn’t conceal his astonishment. He said nothing, unable to do anything but stare.
“Free of rules.” She put her chin up. “Free of propriety and boredom and precedence and all that utter nonsense. Surely you understand.”
“All too well.” The fools, with their talk of propriety. I knew I was right!
She blushed adorably, then dropped her gaze. Maybe the hunger in his eyes was too much for her. He took her hands and kissed them, then released her.
And stepped away.
Business before pleasure. “Here’s the problem: Lord Gentry wishes to wed Miss Tripp.”
“Truly? What a good choice. I like her very much.” She wrinkled her nose. “What are her connections?”
“She’s related to three dukes and an archbishop, so it’s an acceptable match, if not a brilliant one.”
“Lord Staves will not agree.”
“He will if we play our cards right,” Colwyn said. “All we have to do is contrive an engagement, and the wedding will follow in due course. Here’s what I want you to do.”
~ * ~
The moment of truth had come and gone with that exchange of glances. It was one thing to acknowledge to herself that she loved him; another entirely to know that he knew.
And that he also knew she would give in to him. That they would spend the night together.
And he didn’t have to marry her to do it.
In other words, she was a fool for love.
But she wasn’t an idiot. “Plotting together is fun and exciting—at least for me, and you know it,” she said, when he’d explained his plan. “You’re asking me to help because—because if you can’t thrill me one way, you’ll thrill me another.”
“I’ll thrill you any way I can, clever girl.” His smile, warm and appreciative, made her shiver. “But that’s not the only reason I want your help. You’re the obvious choice.”
“If I weren’t here, you would make a different plan.”
“But you are here,” he said, “and it’s going to be fun.”
After he’d gone, taking the cloak with him, Jane rang for a maid, washed and dressed, and steeled herself for a day of pretending to reconsider marriage to Gentry. Which was awkward enough in itself, but Gentry was extremely tense about the plan, meaning she had to be the calm one.
Not easy, when she was planning to ruin herself in the most wanton way—and have fun while she was about it.
She sat next to Lord Gentry at breakfast, with Miss Tripp on his other side. His strained expression gave her courage. Miss Tripp had explained that he kowtowed to his father in order to protect his mother; Jane’s small role was easy compared to his. She already knew he supervised the gardens at Staves, so at least there was a topic at hand.
They discussed roses, climbing vines, and espaliered fruit trees. After breakfast, he took her on a tour of the forcing garden in the greenhouse, but spent most of the time looking over his shoulder. “What if my father tries again while we’re in here? As you have probably gathered, I don’t mind looking like a fool, but I refuse to besmirch my honor.”
“If he does, I’ll have another tantrum, but I don’t think he will. Miss Tripp is just outside, walking with her father, so they are witnesses to our good behavior.” She stopped to appreciate an orange tree. “Try to seem more cheerful, Lord Gentry. We’re supposed to appear at least a little lover-like.”
Gentry’s lips twitched into a semblance of a smile, and Jane sighed. Be seen sharing a private jest, Colwyn had advised. Gaze up at him in a confiding way.
That she couldn’t manage, so sympathy would have to do. “You’re not enjoying this much, are you?”
“Good Lord, no.” Gentry plucked a dead leaf off the orange tree. “Surely you don’t mean to imply that you are?”
She thought about it. “I’m afraid so,” she said apologetically. “It’s a bit nerve-wracking, but it’s the most fun I’ve had in ages.”
Gentry shook his head in disbelief. “My dear girl, surely you don’t mean that. This plan of Sir Colwyn’s risks your reputation.”
“Truly, I’m not worried at all,” she said. “It’s an excellent plan, and Miss Tripp intends to make it work.”
Now he did smile. “I have infinite confidence in Miss Tripp,” he admitted, “and my father is certainly playing into our hands. He has ordered me to try again. It’s most strange—after catering to his every whim for years, it was all I could do to pretend to agree. I told him I didn’t know how to change your mind.”
Jane couldn’t help but smile back. “Perfect. That means he will take the initiative. The bait.”
“I hope so.” He plucked a weed from a row of young shoots. “But I fear for my mother.”
“I don’t think you need worry. With ruthless supporters like Miss Tripp and Sir Colwyn, not to mention whoever employs them, your mother will be safe.”
“You take this association with spies very calmly,” he said. “It’s not natural to trust a man like Sir Colwyn North.”
Oh, but it is. The most natural thing in the world.
Chapter Nine
“You’ve been pestering Jane again,” Lettice accused. “How could you?”
Colwyn spread his hands in a placating gesture. “It wasn’t pestering. I asked her to marry me.”
“And she refused, so now you’ve dragged her into one of your schemes. What if she ends up ruined again?”
“She is aware of the risk,” he said. She likes the risk.
“No, she isn’t. Not really. All this means is that you haven’t given up.”
“Why would I give up? I want her. Meanwhile, you are obliged to help me with my mission.” At her huff, he said, “I know, I know, but I thought my mission was to marry Lady Jane. It seems that is merely a personal goal, and helping Gentry and Miss Tripp is the true mission. You are duty-bound to assist me.”
