Jacquie D'Alessandro - [Regency Historical 04] (27 page)

His fingers set to work undoing the buttons on her gown. “I’m not certain…do it again and I’ll let you know.”

She stroked him again, then teased the head of his arousal with her fingertips. “No,” he said in husky rasp. “They don’t do that, either.”

“Not even if they are the very best of friends?”

“Not even then.” Finished with the buttons, he pushed her gown and chemise down her arms in one motion.

“What else don’t friends do?”

He drew a lazy fingertip around her pebbled nipple. “Are you certain you want to know?”

“Yes.” The word ended in a hiss of pleasure as he bent his head and drew her nipple into his mouth. She breathed his name, and all the pent-up frustration of wanting her, loving a woman he feared he could never have, burst, flooding him with a desperation unlike anything he’d ever known. He yanked her gown, chemise, and drawers roughly down over her hips, then simply lifted her and kicked the material aside, leaving her clad in only her stockings and ankle-high riding boots. With his breaths pumping from his lungs like a bellows, he snagged one hand under her thigh and lifted her leg against his hip while his other hand skimmed down her bare back, over her round buttocks, then lower, to stroke the plump folds of her sex. That she was already wet for him snapped the last vestiges of his control.

Kissing her deeply, he slipped two fingers into her moist heat, his tongue stroking her in the same smooth rhythm as his fingers stroked inside her body. Her arms tightened around his neck and she strained against him. He broke off their kiss, relentlessly stroking her body, and watched her pleasure overtake her while she pulsed around his fingers.

The instant the tremors subsided, he scooped her up in his arms and sat her on top of her discarded gown. Dropping to his knees between her splayed thighs, he yanked open his breeches with impatient, unsteady hands, and freed his erection. Now, damn it. He needed her
now
. Sitting back on his heels, he grasped her hips and settled her over him, astride his thighs. She clasped his shoulders and slid down as he thrust upward. He tried to go slow, to savor the exquisite glide into her velvety heat, the erotic pull
of her tight passage gripping him, but slow was beyond him. Clenching her hips in a viselike hold, he gritted his teeth and thrust, hard, fast, beads of sweat forming on his brow. And just like his thrusts, his release came upon him hard and fast. With a guttural groan that sounded more like pain than pleasure, he withdrew and crushed her against him, his face buried in the warm fragrant valley between her breasts. The instant the passion-induced fog cleared from his brain, guilt smacked him. Damn it, what the hell had come over him? He never lost control like that. He’d taken her without a thought to her pleasure. He lifted his head, fully prepared to apologize and beg her pardon, but found her looking at him with a flushed, sated, slumberous expression.

“Oh…my,” she whispered, resting her forehead against his. “Just when I think I’ve finally discovered what you do best, you prove me wrong.”

Relieved that she’d found as much pleasure as he, he dropped a kiss on her nose. “You still haven’t discovered it.”

“Oh…my,” she whispered again. She glanced down at her naked breasts pressed to his chest. “I’m guessing that friends don’t do this, either?”

“Are we friends, Victoria?” He tossed out the question lightly, but found himself tensing, awaiting her reply.

“I like to think so.”

“Well, in that case, I guess friends do
do
this.”

“Hmmm. How long do you suppose it would take friends to do this again?”

He smiled. “Let’s find out.”

L
ate that night, Nathan paced the confines of his bedchamber. When he approached the fireplace, he glared at the mantel clock. Less than a minute had past since he’d last glowered at the enamel timepiece, which meant that not only did his most potent frown not make time pass any quicker, but that he still had to suffer through another quarter hour for midnight to arrive. Until he left his bedchamber and joined Victoria in hers.

Swiping his hands through his hair, he strode back toward the window, the silk of his robe flapping against his bare legs. What the hell had he been thinking, agreeing to wait until midnight to go to her? He’d retired twenty min
utes ago, leaving Victoria, Lady Delia, and his father in the drawing room. It had taken him all of ten minutes to undress, wash, and don his robe. And so he’d commenced pacing, frustrated at his lack of sangfroid, as he’d always considered himself a very patient man. But there was nothing patient about the need, the want, to be near her, touching her, that clawed at him.

He paused at the window and looked down at the gardens bathed in a silvery glow of moonlight. He was about to turn away when a movement below caught his eye. As he watched, a dark clad figure carrying a sack emerged from the shadows and moved stealthily across the lawn toward the dense forest. For an instant the moon shone directly on the figure and Nathan froze in recognition. Seconds later the darkness swallowed the furtive form, and Nathan, mind spinning with questions, stared at the spot where he’d disappeared.

What the hell was Colin up to?

There was no point giving chase—he’d never find his brother in the forest in the dark. But that didn’t mean he didn’t intend to look for answers. Grabbing the oil lamp from his end table, he exited his bedchamber and headed down the corridor. When he reached Colin’s bedchamber, he entered, closing the door behind him.

Raising the lamp, he walked slowly around the darkened room, surveying the area through narrowed eyes. Little had changed since he’d last seen the room three years ago. The same cherrywood furniture, the same dark green patterned Axminster carpet and heavy velvet drapes. At first glance everything seemed in perfect order, but upon close inspection, he noticed the fringe on one end of the hearth rug was mussed, something the maid would not have left uncorrected.

He approached the round mahogany table near the wardrobe, where a decanter of brandy and a crystal snifter rested on a silver tray. Lifting the snifter to his nose, Nathan inhaled. The scent of potent liquor lingered in the glass. Holding the glass up to the light, he noted the drops of pale gold still in the bottom.
A quick bracer for the dash across the lawn, Colin?

Crossing to the French windows, Nathan noted with a grim smile that they were locked from the inside. “But you’re an expert at locking doors from the other side,” he murmured. “And unlocking them, for that matter, as I suspect you didn’t waltz in the front door and come up the stairs.”

He opened the doors and stepped onto the balcony. Walking to the stone balustrade, he raised the lantern and minutely examined the stone. Directly in the center of the railing he found what he was looking for—bits of rope fiber. “Now I know how you got in—but what were you looking for?”

Lowering the lamp, his gaze swept the stone balcony and halted on the pale object near his feet. He crouched down and picked up the folded ivory vellum. A sense of dread rushed through him as he slowly unfolded the paper, hoping he wouldn’t see what he suspected he would. Seconds later his worst suspicions were confirmed.

It was the fake letter and map he’d drawn. The same fake letter and map that had been stolen from him.

Bloody hell. Filled with foreboding, he hurried back to his own bedchamber. After entering the room, he went immediately to the wardrobe and pulled out the pair of riding boots in the far corner. Grabbing the heel of the left boot, he gave a deft twist then felt in the hidden compartment. As he’d suspected, it was empty.

“The letter and map have been stolen,” Nathan said the instant he closed the door to Victoria’s bedchamber behind him. “Our grid map as well.”

Victoria stared at his sternly set features, her heart sinking in dismay at the news. “When?”

“Must have been during dinner this evening.” He raked his hands through his hair. “I should have suspected, should have considered he’d do this, but I didn’t want to believe he’d be so foolish.”

“Who?”

Victoria went still at the tortured look in his eyes. “Colin,” he said, his voice laced with anguish. “He was here. Tonight. I saw him on the lawn, heading toward the forest. When I searched his bedchamber, I found this.”

She took the vellum he held out to her and frowned at the unfamiliar words and drawing. “What is this?”

“It’s the fake note and map that was stolen from us.”

She felt her eyes go wide as the implications showered down on her. “That means Colin—”

“Is involved. There are only two ways he could have that note. One—if he hired that bastard to steal it; or two—if Colin stole it from that bastard.”

She searched his gaze. “And which do you believe?”

“That Colin stole it from our thief,” he said without hesitation. “My brother, in addition to his many other talents, is a formidable pickpocket. Very useful during his spy days. Apparently still useful.”

Pieces clicked in Victoria’s mind as she stared at the vellum. “So you believe,” she said slowly, “that Colin somehow crossed paths with our thief, stole the letter and map from him, and has been trying to find the jewels himself—only using the wrong information….” She
looked up and met Nathan’s gaze. “Except now, he not only has the real letter and map and therefore the correct information, but our grid map showing the areas we’ve already searched.”

His taut features relaxed a bit and unmistakable admiration shone in his eyes. Reaching out, he clasped her hand and brought it to his mouth, pressing a warm kiss to her fingers. “My darling Victoria, have I told you that I love your ability to cleave through even the thickest fog and get right to the heart of the matter?”

Her breath caught at the intensity burning in his gaze and she shook her head. “I don’t believe you’ve ever mentioned it.”

“Consider it mentioned.” After pressing another brief kiss to her fingers, he released her hand and paced in front of her.

She watched him in silence for a full minute, his expression so troubled, her heart hurt for him. The next time he passed in front of her, she reached out and laid her hand on his arm, stopping him. “You’re thinking that Colin had something to do with the failure of the mission three years ago,” she said softly. She gently squeezed his arm in a sympathetic gesture. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, looking mildly surprised. “Actually, no, I’m not thinking that at all. Whatever faults Colin might have, he is a man of honor and integrity. Unfortunately, he also tends to be daring. I’m thinking that he somehow stumbled onto the truth of what happened three years ago and instead of telling me, he’s decided to take matters into his own hands.”

“But why wouldn’t he tell you? Enlist your aid?”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I can only guess, but I’d surmise that it’s because three years ago he doubted me. I
think that over the past three years, as much as he wanted to believe I was innocent of any wrongdoing, that kernel of doubt remained. When he discovered what really happened, and realized I hadn’t betrayed the mission…” He blew out a long breath. “I’m sure he was seized with guilt. Knowing him as I do, I think he’s acting on his own as some sort of self-imposed penance. A way to make up for his lack of faith in me. He wants to find the jewels, expose the traitor, and clear my name.”

She searched his gaze. “You feel this way because that’s exactly what you would do for him.”

“Yes, I would.”

“I’m barely acquainted with your brother, so as an objective observer I feel the need to point out that while you could be right—and for your sake I pray you are—it is equally as possible that you’re wrong. That Colin is responsible for everything that has happened.”

“The chances may be equal, but I’m not wrong. Which means Colin could be in grave danger.” Clasping her hand, he drew her toward the mahogany slant-top desk near the window. “I’m going to recreate the decoded letter and grid, and I want you to redraw the map. Then we’re going to study them until we figure out what we’ve missed. Figure out the best place to search next. My every instinct warns me that time is short. I don’t think we have the time to search all five of the grids left on the map.”

For the next thirty minutes the only sound in the room besides the crackle of snapping wood burning in the fireplace was the scratching of their quills on vellum. Victoria then spent the next two hours minutely studying the series of squiggles she’d drawn. They looked like gibberish. She slowly turned the vellum, looking at the lines from all angles until her eyes felt gritty.

“I’ve tried a dozen different codes, but can’t decipher anything further,” Nathan said, his voice filled with frustration. “Anything from the map?”

“No…although an idea just occurred to me.” Sitting up straighter, Victoria stared at the lines. “All along we’ve assumed that based on the words ‘rock formation’ in the letter, this drawing depicted the particular formation where the jewels were hidden. But what if it depicts something else?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps a patch of tall sea grass?”

Nathan scooted his chair closer to hers and peered at the drawing. “If it’s sea grass, we’ve either missed the jewels or Baylor’s information was wrong.” He slid over the grid map he’d recreated and pointed to the still unexplored areas. “All of the five remaining squares are inland, too far away for the sea grass to grow. But I think you may be right about this not being a drawing of the actual rock formation.”

They both studied the lines, and she mused, “What if it’s a series of trails, or paths?”

He nodded, then pointed to a spot where the lines intersected. “It could be three trails that converge here.”

Victoria looked at him with a growing sense of excitement. “Do you know of such a place on the property? Where three trails converge near a rock formation?”

He rose and paced across the room, his brows bunched in a frown. Forcing herself to remain silent so as not to interrupt his thoughts, she could almost see the wheels turning in his mind as he mentally scanned the estate’s abundant acreage.

“Near the north corner,” he muttered, then shook his head. “No, no rocks there.” He paused at the desk and again studied the grid map. “There are so many trails,” he
said, shaking his head in frustration. “But nothing is coming to mind. I’ll need to think on this—” He stopped abruptly and stared at the squiggles she’d drawn. “Water,” he said. “Not dirt trails, but water. Streams.” He repeated the word “streams” a half-dozen times, each time sounding more excited. Then he pointed to one of the squares they hadn’t yet searched on the grid map, the square covering the farthest northwest end of the property.

“Here. There are three streams that converge here. It marks the boundary between my family’s property and the Alwyck estate.”

“Is there a rock formation there?”

His gaze met hers. “There are the ruins of a small stone cottage. Just three crumbling walls, no roof…by God, I think that must be it!” There was no mistaking the excitement in his voice, in his eyes. Taking her face between his hands, he pressed a hard, fast kiss to her lips then let out a short, triumphant laugh. “You’re a genius.”

“Me? You’re the one who figured it out.”

“But you provided the idea. The inspiration.” He brushed his thumbs over her cheeks. “I’d say we make an unsurpassedly marvelous team.”

Something in his tone, in the sudden seriousness of his gaze, curled heat through her, robbing her thoughts. Next week she would think of an outstanding reply, but for now she simply nodded.
Next week you’ll most likely be on your way back to London
, her inner voice whispered. At the unwanted reminder, her entire body tensed.

Clearing her throat, she asked, “Shall we leave immediately for this abandoned cottage, or do you wish to wait for daybreak?”

His brows snapped down in a frown. “Victoria, I want you to stay here.”

She stepped back and his hands slipped from her cheeks. Planting her hands on her hips, she glared at him. “Stay here? While you recover the jewels by yourself? I’m afraid not.”

He reached for her, but she stepped back again, eluding his grasp. “Victoria, I need to know you’re safe—”

“And I need to know
you’re
safe.”

“Now that the real letter and map are no longer in my possession, anything could happen. I can’t risk having you in the middle of a possibly dangerous situation.” This time when he reached out, he caught her shoulders. “After what happened with that knife-wielding bastard…” He briefly squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed. “Your father swore me to protect you, and I won’t fail again.”

Lifting her hands, she clasped his strong forearms. “You didn’t fail the first time, Nathan. As far as I’m concerned, the safest place for me is with you. I’ve come this far on the search, I refuse to be denied seeing it through to the end. We’ve been partners all along and shall remain as such. Besides, with both of us looking, the search will go twice as quickly.” When he seemed about to argue further, she added, “You might as well agree, because if you don’t, I’ll simply follow you. So the only question that remains is whether you think it better to depart now and conduct our search under cover of darkness or wait until dawn.”

“I’m surprised you’ve deemed to leave that decision up to me,” he muttered in a disgruntled tone.

She cast her gaze demurely downward. “You’re much more experienced in these matter than I.”

“Yes, I am. Which is why—”

“You’ll choose when it’s best for
us
to depart.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Have you always been this headstrong?”

“I think I must have been, but until recently I’ve kept the trait hidden.”