Elizabeth Thornton - [Special Branch 02] (16 page)

She shook her head. “I don’t know about Haddo, Jason. It’s so far away. I mean, I can’t afford to lose all my pupils.”

He smothered a curse and tightened his grasp on her hands with enough pressure to make her wince. “Haven’t you heard a word I’ve said? Your house wasn’t broken into. The thug who attacked you came looking for
you
, Gwyn, nobody else.”

The color drained from her face. “No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “He came to the wrong house. He must know it by now. It wasn’t me he wanted. It was a portrait, a miniature portrait, and I don’t own such a thing.”

“A portrait? What kind of portrait? I mean, was it a portrait of a man or a woman or a child?”

“He didn’t say.” She gave a strained laugh. “And he didn’t give me a chance to ask him.”

Jason thought about this for a moment. “You must know something. Think, Gwyn. Did someone show you a portrait or tell you about a portrait, or did you—”

“No!” she cried out. “That’s why I think he must have come to the wrong house.”

“Listen to me, Gwyn.” He spoke slowly and seriously, trying to impress upon her the gravity of the situation. “There have been too many strange things happening recently, and you are connected to all of them. That first day, you said you felt that someone was watching you. That same night, you almost walked in on a murder in Sackville’s house. And now the attack in your own home. It was premeditated. Mark said that Harry had been to the house that morning and had asked a great many questions. Maddie said much the same thing. He was in every room of your house. Obviously, he was looking for the portrait, and when he didn’t find it, he came back, expecting to find you and Mark alone. Can’t you see that it’s too dangerous for you to live alone until we find this man? You’ll be safe at Haddo, at least until you’re fully recovered. Then we’ll see.”

She put a hand to her temple as though that could erase the memory of the attack. It didn’t, and she began to shake. She felt weak and helpless and horribly afraid.

When her enormous eyes began to well with fresh
tears, Jason sighed and put his arms around her. “Maybe I’ve exaggerated the danger,” he said.

She shivered. “Harry … he threatened to harm Mark.” She gulped as the memory came back to her. “I think he would have killed me and maybe Mark, too, whether I’d given him the portrait or not. It was that thought that gave me the strength to fight him off so that I could scream for you.”

As though it were happening again, Jason could feel the painful pounding of his heart as Harry leveled the pistol at Gwyn. He felt the same paralyzing terror when the gun went off, and the same murderous rage in its aftermath.

He said savagely, “None of this would have happened if you hadn’t been living alone. You should have returned to your family where you could be properly cared for. One of these days, Gwyn, your damn pride will get you killed. A woman on her own—” He broke off when she shrank away from him.

“That is so unjust,” she whispered, her throat working. “I did nothing wrong.”

“Gwyn,” he said, his anger receding, but the fear and emotion still pulsing in his blood, “don’t turn this into a contest of wills. Until this is settled, you can’t live alone. Why can’t you accept that?”

He drew her into his arms and held her fiercely. His restraint was at a dangerously low ebb, and he struggled to find it again. He didn’t want to hurt her, or frighten her, or fight with her. He just wanted to feel her warm body pressed against his and know that she was safe.

Gwyn felt those strong arms around her and she burrowed closer. When she was a child and someone hurt her, Jason was always there to comfort her. But this time, the balance had shifted. It was she who was comforting him.

She stroked his back. “It’s all right,” she whispered. “It’s all right.” She kissed his cheek, his chin. “It’s all right.” Then she kissed him on the mouth.

And that changed everything.

For a moment, his mouth was soft and smooth, then it slanted across hers, parting her lips until they opened for him and his tongue slipped inside. Her breath caught softly as he made love to her mouth, nipping at it, sipping, sucking. It wasn’t only desire that moved her, but the quickening of a lifetime’s memories. This was Jason. There was no one like him. She’d missed him. How she had missed him.

He eased her down on the pillows and braced his hands on either side of her head. He couldn’t believe this was happening. She was soft, warm, yielding. He wasn’t seducing her.
She
had kissed
him
. A fierce exultation surged through his blood. She might not know it yet, but she had just changed the rules of the game. A finer man would give her time to decide if she really wanted this. That finer man could go to the devil. He’d wanted her since he was a boy. He wasn’t about to let her change her mind now.

With exquisite care, he kissed the wound on her side through the material of nightgown and dressing. “I nearly lost you,” he whispered hoarsely. He kissed the bruises on her throat, the graze on her cheek, then brought his mouth to hers again. He knew he couldn’t go too far. It would be a long time before she was well enough to accept the hard intrusion of his body. But in these few moments, he wanted to make her aware that there could be no going back now.

When he brought the kiss to an end, he raised his head and gazed down at her. Her eyes were heavy-lidded; her lips were moist and swollen; her breasts rose and fell with each labored breath.

His fingers went to the tiny pearl buttons on the bodice of her nightdress. Her eyes went wide and she sucked in a breath. “Shh. Easy,” he murmured. “Let me touch you.” His hand spread under her breast, over her heart. “See what I do to you? Your heart is racing, just like mine.” He took her hand and spread her fingers on his chest. “See what you do to me? I ache for you. Don’t you ache for me, too?”

She moistened her lips.

“Tell me!”

Her reply was almost inaudible. “You know I do.”

His fingers trembled as he undid the buttons. When he pulled back the edges of her nightgown and spread his hand over one milky-white breast, Gwyn jerked and moaned.

“Shh,” he said. “Lie still. I don’t want you to move. I don’t want you to do anything.”

His hand brushed over her breast and a fierce little cry tore from her throat. His head dipped and with tongue and lips, he lavished attention on one hardened nipple, then the other. She tasted so good, so warm and womanly. He filled his hands with her, and at the soft sounds she made, his loins tightened in anticipation of taking her. Next time, he promised himself, there would be no chance of anyone interrupting them. Next time, next time … but his time was running out.

He allowed himself one quick kiss on a creamy breast, then he found her mouth again. He kissed her quickly and whispered, “Don’t be alarmed, love, but I think we’ve got company.”

His face came hazily into focus. His green eyes were heavy with desire, but there was a spark of humor in them as well. She put her arms out to draw him back. He captured her wrists to prevent it, and chuckled.

“Company,” he said, “as in Mark, Brandon, and Judith. They’re coming up the stairs. Can’t you hear them?”

It took a moment for her to come to herself. She looked at Jason, then at the door, and gasped. When she tried to free her hand so that she could cover her bare breasts, he prevented it by tightening his grasp.

His voice, though amused, was not quite steady. “Not so fast. We didn’t finish our discussion.”

“Jason!” The voices on the other side of the door were coming closer. “What discussion?” Her voice was high and breathless.

“That you’ll go down to Haddo and stay there until you’re completely recovered. Promise me, Gwyn.”

Someone laughed on the other side of the door.

“Well?” asked Jason. His face was unsmiling, his voice was hard. “I’m not letting you go until you promise.”

She tugged on her hands to no avail. “I promise,” she cried out. “I promise.”

Jason grinned, pulled the bedclothes up to her chin, and went to stand by the long window. Judith entered first, followed by Mark and Brandon.

Gwyn did not know where to look.

Brandon said, “Good, you’re awake. How are you feeling, Gwyn?”

Her voice was breathless. “Well. Quite … well, thank you.”

Mark skipped to the bed. “Mama,” he said, and stopped. “Why is your face red?”

“Because … because it’s hot in here.”

Brandon threw Jason a hostile glance, Judith’s brows rose speculatively, and Jason smiled.

“Mmm,” said Judith, “it looks to me as though you’re running a fever, Gwyn.”

Gwyn chanced a quick look at Judith and saw the laughter lurking in her eyes. She wasn’t brave
enough to look at Brandon, but she could sense his hostility, not at her, but at Jason. Her gaze, against her express wishes, moved to Jason. As was to be expected, he was completely relaxed, unaffected, not only by their ardent lovemaking—while her own body was still humming—but unaffected also by the embarrassment of their situation.

Gathering what was left of her dignity, she said with a calm that surprised her, “Gentlemen, would you mind leaving Judith and me alone for a few minutes? I’d like to make myself presentable before receiving visitors. I know I must look a fright.”

“You look fine to me, Mama.”

“And to me,” said Jason.

Judith was more astute. She realized that there were some things a lady did not mention in front of gentlemen. “Of course you want to make yourself presentable,” she said, “before the doctor arrives to change your dressing.” As she marched to the door and held it open, Gwyn took the opportunity to do up her buttons under the concealment of the bedcovers. Judith went on, “I’ll let you know when Gwyn is ready for visitors. Meanwhile, Jason, perhaps you’d arrange for hot water to be brought up, and fresh towels?”

The gentlemen finally got the message. Brandon was the first to leave.

“Come along, Mark,” said Jason.

“But I want to tell Mama about my pony.”

Jason bent down, whispered something in Mark’s ear, and without more ado, they left the room hand-in-hand. Judith shut the door after them.

“What pony?” asked Gwyn. She threw back the covers and inched to the edge of the bed.

“Oh, it’s not my place to tell you,” said Judith. “It’s Mark’s surprise.” She stood at the foot of the bed and, with head cocked to one side, surveyed her
friend. “This is more serious than I thought,” she said.

Gwyn touched a hand to the dressing on her side. “Has it started bleeding again?”

Judith came to stand in front of Gwyn. “Not that. This.”

Judith pointed. Gwyn stared, and a tide of color rose from her throat to hairline. The buttons and buttonholes on her nightgown were hopelessly mismatched.

Judith rested her hands lightly on Gwyn’s shoulders. “Don’t look so guilty. I’m unshockable. But let me give you my mother’s words of wisdom. Keep your buttons buttoned and your strings tied till you get his ring on your finger. Pity she didn’t listen to her own advice, but maybe that’s what made her so wise.”

Gwyn looked up quickly, saw the wicked glint in Judith’s eyes, and smiled in spite of herself. “You are outrageous,” she said. “You know that, don’t you?”

“I’m not the one who was carried off in the dead of night to a snug little love nest.” The mischief in Judith’s grin robbed her words of any censure.

Gwyn shook her head. “I think Jason must have bats in his head.”

“No,” said Judith. “I think he acted with remarkable intelligence. For a man, I mean. No one would dream of looking for you here.”

“You really believe I may be in danger?”

“I don’t know, but why take chances? Anyway, Jason has a friend he is going to approach, someone who can help us get to the bottom of this. I believe he works at the Foreign Office or maybe it’s the Home Office.”

“The Foreign Office! Shouldn’t we be calling in the magistrates?”

Judith shrugged. “Perhaps we shall. But not till Jason has a word with his friend.”

“My neighbor will be worried about me.”

“No. Jason told her that you’d suddenly taken ill and were staying with relatives.”

Gwyn’s tone was dry. “Jason seems to have thought of everything.”

Judith laughed. “If I had a man like that fussing over me, I’d kiss the ground he walked on. You don’t know how lucky you are.”

“Oh yes I do,” said Gwyn, thinking of Harry.

With the aid of Judith’s arm, Gwyn eased herself to her feet. “What does Brandon think? I ask because he seemed so angry.”

“Hah!” Judith snorted. “He’s so straitlaced it’s laughable. Yes, Brandon, the prize rake of five counties around! He’s angry at Jason for bringing you here, and angry because the only lady he knows who would not balk at taking up residence in this den of iniquity—to act as your chaperon, you understand—is me. So, you see, he’s angry with me, too.”

“Is he angry with me?”

“Of course not. You didn’t have a choice in the matter. Besides, Brandon has put you on a pedestal. In Brandon’s view, there are only two kinds of females, those who belong on a pedestal and the other sort. He doesn’t know what to make of my kind of woman. I think he means to reform me.”

“Reform you? There’s nothing to reform. You’re all talk and no action.”

“That,” replied Judith indignantly, “is because I haven’t met the right man yet.”

“What about your mother’s words of wisdom?”

“Mmm. You have a point. I suppose I haven’t been put to the test.”

“I thought you liked Brandon.”

“Brandon?” Judith looked amazed. “I despise him. He’s a hypocrite. He’s always finding fault with me. Well, two can play at that game.”

Gwyn’s response died on her lips when Judith pushed open the concealed door that Maddie had pointed out to her. The dressing room, Maddie called it. She hadn’t exaggerated. The porcelain bath with its hand-painted garlands of roses could have held a whole family at one sitting. Mirrors from floor to ceiling decorated each wall. She and Judith were reflected from mirror to mirror, giving the impression that a dozen of their replicas were watching their every move.

“Decadent, isn’t it?” said Judith. “But don’t blame Jason. Brandon says it was the lady’s taste that opened Jason’s eyes to her true nature. I mean, what kind of woman could bear to see her naked form reflected from every angle?”