Far Too Tempted (25 page)

Perfect.

Alex waited until the man was partially over the sill before he moved. In a sudden sprint from his position behind the hedge, he came around and pounced on his victim, grabbing him from behind by the back of his dark cloak and jerking him downward with all his might. He heard a grunt of surprise as the figure slipped off the sill and landed in a small, leafy bush under the window. Brandishing his knife, Alex leaned forward, intending to put it at the man’s throat. “Don’t move. Upon your life.”

Half-sprawled in the bush, the man didn’t heed the command, instead delivering a smashing kick to the knee that took Alex by surprise and sent him staggering backwards. Quick as a cat, the man was on his feet, coming to the attack with diabolical ferocity, swinging his blade first and then a fist after, putting Alex on the defensive. As he parried one particularly vicious swing, Alex managed to slash the man’s arm, hearing both his gasp of pain and the sound of rending cloth. His knife came away red in the moonlight.

The injury seemed to only infuriate, not subdue, his opponent. The next attack was violent and straightforward, sending them both crashing to the ground. Alex landed on the bottom, the breath going out of his chest in a rush as the full weight of his assailant came slamming down on top of him.

The man was masked, his eyes mere glitters through the slit in the cloth. Likewise, all of his clothing was dead black, right down to his cloak. For a split second their faces were inches apart and harsh breathing filled the air. Then, with a heave, Alex freed himself, his opponent sprawling on the moonlit path. However, before he could even gain his feet, the other man was up with that same supple animal grace, his knife flashing as it jabbed forward.

It caught Alex in the shoulder, slicing through his lawn shirt and sending a line of fiery pain across his barely healed wound. He staggered backwards and hit the hedge, a muffled curse escaping his lips. To his surprise, instead of following the attack with the same ruthless skill, the man simply stopped for a moment and stood there with his cloak moving in the breeze; then he lifted the wicked-looking knife to his forehead in a quick, small salute.

A moment later he was gone, like a wraith melting into the darkness.

There was blood on his shirt, his neck, and a swelling dark bruise just beneath his left cheekbone. Hair rumpled, dirt on his breeches, his normally handsome face set in a scowl, Alex looked every inch a man who had just engaged in a furious and brutal brawl. As Jessica watched, her husband dropped into a chair, waving away a hovering Ariel. “Let it be, it’s just a scratch.”

Her hands shook. In fact, her knees were also trembling, threatening her balance. Against the doorjamb of the duke’s study, Jessica felt a little like a tower of jelly about to dissolve into a sticky puddle.

She had watched the whole thing.

Every wicked blow, every cruel jab, every nasty, ugly collision of fist and flesh. Even in the shrouded dimness of the gardens below her window, Jessica could see well enough to know that no gentlemanly struggle was taking place, instead it was a flurry of hands and feet and cold metal that sought victory.

And when that knife had gleamed pale as it slashed toward Alex’s body and he’d stumbled backwards…

Her heart had ceased to beat.

“You’re a bloody fool.” Marcus Ramsey was as upset as she was. He paced unsteadily past his brother’s chair, the pallor of his face matching closely the ivory of his lawn shirt. Shoving shaking hands into his already untidy hair, he spun on his heel and walked back across the room. “To go out there into the darkness with nothing but that child’s toy of a knife to confront him! By God, Alex, it’s a wonder you’ve survived the war this long. Of all the brash, foolhardy—”

“Marc, enough.” Alex said the words pleasantly, but there was an underlying edge that stopped his brother in mid-sentence. He glanced very briefly at the doorway where Jessica stood, and his eyes were shuttered. “Perhaps we can discuss this when the ladies have retired.”

Marcus seemed to finally notice her in her frozen pose, stopping in his tracks and looking back and forth, first at the figure of his wife in her dressing gown, and then to Jessica’s own very still posture. He cleared his throat. “Yes, of course.”

“Retired? You must be joking.” Ariel lifted her brows high in indignation. “My heart is still racing.” She pressed her hands to her breast. “Alex, why ever didn’t you rouse one of the footman or at least wait for Marcus to accompany you into the garden?”

Jessica moved then, very slowly, just two steps inside the study, keeping her gaze on her husband’s face. “Because there is much more to this than what appears on the surface, Ariel. There are tasks that keep you late for your wedding. There are notes delivered at dawn that send you haring back to London, even on your honeymoon. Then, there are men creeping through the gardens late at night. Men who need to be attacked with a most reckless determination.”

She saw Alex’s shoulders stiffen under his bloodstained shirt. His head came up as she added, “I am not blind, Alex, nor deaf. Something odd is going on.”

The look he and Marcus exchanged was not lost on her, or on her sister-in-law. Ariel said slowly, “Jessica is right, isn’t she?” She turned, a vision of righteous indignation in white robes and flaming hair. Her voice was choked. “Marcus, you are forever going places, places you don’t tell me about. It’s has been happening for a long time and I have tried to ignore it.” A swallow rippled the pale column of her throat. “Tried my very best. I was so sure you would never take a mistress—”

“A mistress!” Marcus looked nothing like the reputable duke he was supposed to be but instead like a chagrined little boy with his half-buttoned shirt and tousled hair. Under the accusation in his wife’s eyes, he stepped back. His voice was husky. “Darling, I never would. There is no mistress, my dear, but every man has his secrets.”

“Secrets that involve someone trying to murder your brother in our garden?”

Neither man seemed to have a response to that. Jessica took another step into the room and crossed her cold arms under her breasts. Shivering, both with reaction and the evening breeze on her bare flesh, she said flatly, “Alex, why did you tell me to warn Marcus to arm himself and stay inside?”

The big room was bathed in the faint glow on the horizon that signaled a new day.

Alex tossed his shirt on the floor and unbuttoned his breeches, stifling a wince. One side of his face was sore and his shoulder was back to a constant low ache. The only reward for his assorted pains was that he now knew a bit more about his opponent. Since common thieves very rarely wore masks and wielded knives with lethal grace and expertise, Alex had to assume the man he’d fought in the garden the night before had been the murderer he sought to bring to light. Though it chafed to think he’d come face to face with his quarry and the man had escaped, Alex now had a very good idea of his height and weight and general build.

Rather hard won, that knowledge, he thought wryly. When he and Marcus had refused to discuss the matter in any way, the look on Jessica’s face spoke of both hurt and suspicion. She had left the room and gone upstairs without speaking a word.

Stepping out of his breeches, he then lifted the coverlet and slipped into bed.

Next to him, she slept, her magnificent hair spread over the pillow. Her soft mouth was parted and Jessica’s breasts rose in even movement under the demure white lace of her nightdress, those long, dark lashes a contrast to perfect ivory skin. In the drift of dawn coming through the curtains, she looked angelically beautiful.

And about as touchable as the moon. Even in sleep her brow was slightly furrowed and her body was angled away instead of comfortably curled next to him.

Their second night together certainly lacked even the slightest element of romance. He and Marcus had only gotten Ariel to go up to bed with the utmost difficulty. Then, with the help of two footmen, they had spent the next hours patrolling the house, watching for any sign of the return of the intruder.

He was weary to the bone, and worse, he felt no closer to grasping the identity of the killer.

Damn General Wright and this unholy quest. Alex wasn’t even sure he could argue with his new wife’s anger and confusion, it was simply that he couldn’t explain his actions.

She was understandably both unhappy with him and distrustful.

Up on one elbow, he sifted his fingers through a fall of her silky hair, marveling over the texture and warmth of it. He could see the pulse point at the hollow of her throat and couldn’t help but lean over and lightly press his mouth to that delicate spot, inhaling the fragrance of her skin and rewarded by a small, sleepy sigh.

His mind recognized that an early-morning seduction would not solve the problem between them in the least. Besides, he needed sleep, not lovemaking.

His body, weary or not, didn’t seem to care.

Nuzzling the curve of her shoulder, he smoothed his hand over the length of her body, pushing away the coverlet as he moved from breast to hip to thigh. Tuned to the subtle shifts of her breathing, he knew the instant she came awake and shifted to swallow any protest by taking her lips in a long, languorous kiss. The sudden tension in her muscles began to fade almost as quickly as it came, and she moaned against his mouth when his hand cupped her breast and his thumb brushed the nipple in tiny strokes.

Having had a delicious taste of it twice before, he counted on her passion to override her anger. At least for a little while.

In less than a minute he’d eased her nightdress down her shoulders, baring her breasts, and the smoothness of her stomach, hips and long legs. He followed that glide of cloth, touching and arousing every inch of skin, every hollow and soft curve. She cried out when his fingers skimmed the dampness between her legs, and her restless arch was all he needed in invitation. He muttered, “My God, I need you, Jess.”

Her lashes lifted and for a moment they simply gazed at each other. Then she said in an achingly poignant voice, “Alex.”

The sound of his name coming from her lips was enough. He spread her thighs wide and sank between them, finding heat and pleasure. Every gasp, every lift of her hips in response to his thrusts, all of it was so incredibly arousing that he trembled and felt the ascent of his climax grow with wild speed.

The first spasm of her body around him made his world explode in a reddish haze of ecstasy in wave after wave. Collapsing and rolling to pull Jessica on top of him, he found he was out of breath.

And out of his mind.

God help him, at that very second when he’d been poised on the edge of profound pleasure, he had been tempted to whisper,
I love you.

Where had that come from?

When he lifted his lashes, he found himself gazing into the silver depths of her eyes. Sprawled on his chest, Jessica looked both adorably tousled and content. Her parted lips were still moist from his kisses, her delicate features framed by the lustrous fall of her gleaming hair, her lashes lowered slightly over her eyes as she stared at him. She didn’t look the least like the unhappy woman who had confronted him after the unfortunate incident in the garden.

She said in a husky voice, “If that is how you apologize for being both furtive and neglectful, then it is very effective, Colonel.”

For the life of him, he couldn’t think of how to respond. He was still dazed from the blaze of emotion that had gripped him when he felt his wife’s sweet response to his lovemaking. Witty repartee was out of the question.

Jessica narrowed her eyes slightly. “Alex?”

The uncertainty in her voice made him finally come to his senses. He essayed a smile and lifted his hand to touch her cheek. “My apologies aside, Mrs. Ramsey, apparently it is how I behave when I come to bed and find my beautiful wife sleeping so sweetly.”

The resulting pink climbed her cheeks in a charming fashion, only to fade just as quickly. Suddenly seeming to realize she was lying naked on top of him, Jessica eased away into the cover of the blankets. Grasping a sheet to her breast, she sat up and averted her face. “There were two of them, you know.”

Naked and content amidst the tangled bed linens, Alex blinked. “Two? Of what?”

“I was so angry with you last night, I said nothing. I suppose it was childish.”

He felt a spiral of warning deep in the pit of his stomach. “Last night? Jess, just a moment. What the devil are you talking about?”

“Two men in the garden.”

That simple revelation made him elevate to his elbows, ignoring the protest from his sore shoulder. “What?”

She sighed. “After I ran and pounded on Marcus and Ariel’s door to deliver your message, I came back here to see what was happening. As you can imagine, I was alarmed. From the window I could see quite well. There was a fair moon, you know.”

“Seemed dark as Hades to me, but go on.”

Smoothing her tangled tresses away from her face, Jessica frowned. “The second man was farther away, but he seemed smaller. Shorter, that is. He was dressed the same, all dark clothes and a mask, crouched by a bush and watching the two of you. I couldn’t tell if he was armed or not.” Her smile was tremulous. “I thought about calling out to warn you but I was afraid you would get distracted and lose all advantage. I could barely watch the fight, yet was too frightened to look away. That second man seemed the least of my worries.”