Tammy Falkner - [Faerie 02] (14 page)

Claire’s teeth chattered, she was so nervous, as she slunk through the shadows of Lord Gelson’s manor house. She put on her black half mask and let herself in the first unattended door she could find.

Voices reached her ears and she froze, plastering herself against the wall. But they continued down the corridor that crossed the one she traveled, and Claire followed them at a discreet distance.

Claire had never been inside this particular house, but she could easily assume that she wasn’t in the servants’ corridor. The rug was too well made. And the paneling on the walls was polished to a shine.

“You there,” a voice called out. Claire froze, but then she plastered a pleasant but not overly friendly smile on her face and turned to face the man.

“
Oui
?” she asked. “Pardon me, but I do not speak English,” she said in French, her accent heavy as snow on a rooftop. The man stopped and looked at her closely. Claire didn’t speak French, aside from this one statement. She hoped he wouldn’t try to ask her anything else.

He spoke to her like she was a half-wit. A deaf one at that. He pointed down the corridor and said. “You. Have. To. Go. Outside. With. The. Others. Do you understand?”

“
Oui
, I understand,” Claire said again in halted English. She pointed toward the way she’d come in.

He pointed in the opposite direction. “Go. That. Way.” The door to the room behind him opened and two men walked out. One shook his head. “Have the coroner come for the body,” he said to the man with whom Claire had been talking.

“Yes, sir,” the man said.

Body? Did he say body?

“That way,” he said again, pointing.

“
Oui
, I understand.” She gave him a smile so sultry that he blushed a bit. Then she turned and sauntered down the corridor in the direction he’d pointed. When she reached the end, she stopped and waited. The man kept going, perhaps to check the rear doors of the house. It didn’t matter. He was leaving. And she needed to get in that room, if only for a moment.

Claire waited until his footsteps receded. Then she ducked into the room and closed the door soundly behind her.

The room was awash in lamplight, which made the situation even starker than it would have been otherwise. Claire skidded quickly to a halt as she saw the large puddle of blood that covered the floor. Nausea rose within her.

Claire swallowed and tried to breathe through the feeling that she needed to cast up her accounts. She might not be used to scenes like this, but she could tolerate it for a moment. Claire stepped around the puddle and sank down on her haunches. She looked over the body, which seemed vaguely familiar. She tugged the mask from her face, and her heart jumped into her throat when she saw who it was. Colette lay there, her mouth slack and open, her skin pasty white. Her brown eyes were wide open, and she was, above all else, dead.

Footsteps sounded in the corridor, and Claire jumped to her feet. She rushed across the room, slid behind the heavy curtains at the window, and stood completely still.

“Claire,” a voice hissed. The door clicked open and then closed. “Claire,” the voice whispered heavily.

Claire peeped out from behind the curtain. “Finn?”

“What am I going to do with you?” he ground out. He waved at her there in the dark. “Come on. Let’s go before you get caught.”

“The body. It’s Colette.”

Finn froze. “Colette,” he repeated. He didn’t look terribly surprised.

“Colette. She’s dead.”

***

Colette might have been dead, but Mrs. Abercrombie was the one who’d attended the party, and she was the one who lay in a puddle of blood on the floor. “Let’s discuss this in the coach,” Finn said. His voice was quick and brusque, and he didn’t sound nearly as charming as he normally was. He pulled her out into the corridor and began to rush her down the hall. But voices reached their ears. Two men, if he heard the voices correctly. Finn opened a random door in the corridor and dragged Claire into it.

But he didn’t stop there. He pushed her farther into the room and lifted her to perch on top of the desk in the corner. Then he pulled her skirts up, parted her thighs, stepped between them, and looked into her eyes. “Trust me,” he said.

She nodded as he quickly tousled her hair and pulled her bodice lower, until a pretty pink nipple popped free.

Claire reached to pull it back up, but he cupped her breast with his hand and she froze. He looked down at her, almost forgetting his purpose as he took her nipple into his mouth. He slid her bottom closer to the edge of the desk. The footsteps in the corridor were getting closer. Finn sucked on the nipple and she cried out. “Perfect, Claire. Do that again when the door opens.”

“I don’t understand,” she murmured, leaning back on her hands at his insistence. It raised her breast higher in the air, and he wanted to lavish it with all the attention it deserved. But there wasn’t time. He had to make whomever was about to walk in the room believe there was sexual congress going on.

As the door opened, Finn began to grunt loudly and thrust between her legs. He kept himself between her and whoever was coming in the room, yet he still didn’t want them to see any part of Claire’s body. So, he tugged her bodice up a little.

A pleasurable noise left Claire’s lips as she wrapped her legs around his waist and held him tightly. He continued to thrust between her legs. He was still firmly inside his trousers, though he wanted badly to be out of them. “Close the bloody door,” he grunted, just as Claire started to make little whimpery noises in her throat. God, she was good.

“You can’t be in here,” a voice called.

“Just a minute,” he grunted out. Damn but it was hard to feign the motions of sex with Claire wrapped around him, making those noises beneath him.

“Out!” the man bellowed.

Finn made a great show of pulling back from Claire, pulling her legs from about his waist, and righting her clothing. “Let’s go finish this elsewhere, love,” he said, his voice slow like that of a drunkard.

Claire made a twittering little laugh. “Yes, my lord,” she said.

Finn slid her bottom off the desk and helped her to stand. “Good job,” he whispered in her ear.

He could almost see her smile in the dark room.

“Out that way,” the man directed, and Finn stumbled trying to get out of the room.

“Thank you for your hospitality,” Finn said, slurring his words on purpose.

Claire propped him on her shoulder, pretending to hold him up.

“Don’t leave the premises,” the man warned to their backs as they walked toward the front door.

“Yes, sir,” Claire called back, all sweetness and light. “We’ll be waiting outside.”

But as soon as they were out of eyesight, Finn led her out one of the back corridors and into the dark night.

Claire didn’t begin to shake until they were a good way from Lord Gelson’s house. The hack had given up and left them, which wasn’t a bad thing since the officials would have detained a carriage if they saw it leaving the scene of the crime. But Finn was shrewd. He led her through the garden and around the house, then back out to the street so that no one noticed they were leaving.

Claire’s teeth chattered and she hugged her arms around herself. “Finn,” she began softly.

“What?” He glanced left and right, constantly checking to be sure no one was following them. He was distracted by his vigilance.

“That was meant for me, wasn’t it?” she asked. He looked down at her briefly, his eyes skittering across her face.

“Probably,” he replied. He took her upper arm in his grip and hurried her along. “Let’s get a hack,” Finn suggested.

It was late at night, but there at the street corner sat a shabby carriage pulled by an old bay mare. Finn handed Claire in and gave the driver an address.

As Claire got into the coach, she settled against the squabs and tightened her arms about herself even more. She’d never seen a dead body before. At least not one that was meant to be her. Her teeth chattered so loudly that her jaw hurt with the rhythm.

Finn shrugged out of his coat and dropped it around her shoulders, pulling it closed as he pulled her into his lap and held her tightly. “Shhh,” he crooned. Claire settled her face into the crook of his neck and breathed in his scent. “It’s going to be all right,” he soothed, his hand rubbing up and down her back.

She nodded into his neck, but her body wouldn’t comply with her wishes that it stop shivering. “I don’t usually get like this in stressful situations.”

“I know,” he agreed. “You’re as stalwart as the day is long. It’s all right. I promise.”

“She looked surprised,” Claire murmured past her chattering teeth.

“Yes, she did,” Finn agreed. “Though I suppose that could be any number of emotions, and we’ll assume the worst since we already know she was murdered.”

Claire took his face in her hands and made him look at her. “He killed her because he thought she was me.”

“Yes.” Finn took her hands in his and chafed them gently between his own. She wasn’t terribly cold. She just couldn’t stop the blasted shaking. “He killed her because he thought she was you. He wanted you. He wanted to hurt you, because you are mine.”

She was his, and she’d never really appreciated that fact, had she? But she had his complete attention in that moment.

He went on to say forcefully, “But you are safe. You’re in the carriage with me, and Mayden is nowhere nearby.”

“Where are we going?”

“My house.”

“Why?”

“Because I need to be sure you’re all right.”

“I’m fine,” she said, but she still trembled.

“You’re not fine.”

“You can take me back to Ramsdale House.”

“No.”

His tone brooked no argument. None whatsoever.

The hackney stopped and the driver hopped down to open the door. Finn stepped out and swept Claire up in his arms when she would have stepped out on shaky legs. She instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tightly.

His footman opened the door and stepped quickly to the side when Finn nearly barreled him over. “Good evening, my lord,” the man said.

“Bring a hot bath up to my chambers,” Finn barked.

“Yes, my lord,” the man said as he scuttled away.

“It’s late. You should let them go to bed.”

“It’s late. You should let me do what I want.” He looked down at her, his blue eyes flashing. “Will life with you always be a challenge?” he asked, although she doubted he wanted an answer to the question.

“Probably,” she said. She was what she was. She doubted that would change.

His house was a small set of rooms, but it was immaculately clean and the furniture was big and bulky. She didn’t see much of it, however, as he whisked her down the corridor and into his chambers.

He set her down on the edge of the bed and bent to tug her slippers from her feet. The he slid behind her on the bed and started to unfasten her dress.

His hands were tender but efficient as he stripped her down to nothing but her chemise. In the adjoining room, Claire could hear water splashing into a bath. “Is that for me?” she asked.

“Yes. It will help you relax, I hope. And might even stop the shivering.”

She nodded and let him push her chemise up over her knees, so he could roll her stockings down. Finn kissed the inside of her knee quickly and then tugged her hands until she stood. He moved to pull down her drawers, but she stopped his hands. “I can do it,” she protested.

“Feeling shy?” he asked, his lips touching her temple.

“A little.” Actually, she was terrified. If Finn saw her naked now, he would know about the baby she carried. There was no hiding the faint bump that was the new life within her. He would know that she’d deceived him. That she’d purposefully kept something from him. He’d be angry. She was certain of it. “Could I have some privacy?” she asked as the footman knocked on the door to tell Finn the bath was ready.

“I don’t want to leave you alone,” he said, and Claire’s heart tripped a beat within her chest.

“Can you talk to me through the door?”

He chuckled. “If you insist.”

Claire padded across the room and slipped into his dressing room. The big tub stood tall at the side of the room. Steam rose from it in gentle waves. Claire tugged her chemise over her head, and then pushed her drawers down to the floor and stepped out of them. She lowered herself into the tub, and the warm water enveloped her better than any blanket ever could.

Claire laid her head back against the edge of the tub. The water rose to the tops of her breasts, and nothing more than her head and her knees stood out of the water.

What on earth was she going to do? If he saw her now, he would know she’d been deceiving him all along. He might hate her for it.

“Feeling better?” Finn called through the door, which he’d opened to a crack.

“Much,” she assured him. Well, the shivering had stopped. “I don’t know why I did that. That has never happened before.”

“It’s a very normal reaction.”

“Has it ever happened to you?”

“In varying stages, yes. There are a lot of emotions that accompany death, particularly when one is relieved it’s not one’s own life that was lost.”

***

Finn leaned his head on the doorjamb. It could have been her. It could have been Claire. If he hadn’t been there to catch her getting into that carriage, she would have gone to that masked ball, and Mayden could have killed her. The fear of losing her settled in his gut and rolled around like a cat in a sack.

“Finn,” Claire called. “Do you have a housemaid who could help me wash this tint from my hair?”

Not at this time of the night. “I’ll come and do it,” he replied as he pushed the door open and walked into the room.

Good God, she was pretty sitting here, her hair curling with the steam of her bath. She’d pulled all the pins from it and draped it over the lip of the tub. She sat forward as he approached, and drew her knees closer to her chest. “Finn!” she cried. “You shouldn’t be in here.”

“Oh, I promise not to look.” He was lying. But he didn’t feel even the least bit of remorse about it. He planned to look his fill. He planned to take in every dip and curve of her body. He wasn’t sending her home this night. Not a chance in hell.

She’d nearly died, for God’s sake. He’d nearly lost her.

Finn divested himself of his coat and waistcoat, and he jerked free his cravat and tugged it off his neck. He rolled up his shirtsleeves and dropped to one knee beside her. Her skin was rosy and pink, her cheeks flushed with the heat of the bath. Tiny tendrils of hair had begun to spiral at her forehead and around her ears. He would be glad when that dreadful tint was gone and her strawberry blond hair would be back.

Finn picked up a pail and put it beneath the fall of her hair. Then he picked up a rinse bucket and leaned over her. “Ready?” he asked.

She nodded, not looking him in the eye as she leaned back. She kept her eyes closed, and as she lay back, her breasts rose above the water. But he wasn’t here to ogle her body. He was here to wash her hair.

Finn slowly and carefully wet her hair with the rinse water and then soaped her tresses gently. “I don’t think it’s all going to come out,” he warned. He massaged her scalp, letting his fingernails gently abrade her skin. She made a sound of contentment as he rinsed the soap from her hair. He hadn’t realized how very long it was when it was wet. When it was dry, it was springy and curly, and looked luxuriously perfect.

“Feeling better?” he asked as he sat down next to the bath and laid his arm along the side. She sat forward again, hiding the shadow of her breasts behind her knees.

“Better,” she said. “Thank you.”

Her teeth were no longer chattering, and most of that god-awful red was out of her hair.

And she was naked.

Gloriously naked.

Sinfully naked.

And Finn was aroused beyond bearing. “Would you like some help with your bath?” he asked and waggled his eyebrows at her.

She laughed lightly. “I think I can finish the rest on my own. Can you give me a little privacy?”

“Must I?” Finn didn’t mean to beg. But he wasn’t above it either.

“I just need a moment,” she said.

Finn left a stack of towels within her reach and hung his dressing gown over the back of the door.

“Thank you,” she called to his retreating back.

***

Claire had no idea what the right thing to do was. She needed to tell him about the baby. She would have to if he wanted to be intimate with her that night. And if the bulge behind the fall of his trousers was any indication, that was what he had in mind.

What should she do? Should she ask him to take her home? Should she ask him to sit and then tell him? He might be so surprised he’d fall over and crack his head on the floor. He might have an apoplexy. He might hate her forever.

Claire washed quickly and climbed from the tub. She wrung the water from her hair, and then flipped her hair over, wrapped it in a towel, and righted herself. She blotted herself dry with a second towel and slipped into his dressing gown.

When Claire walked back into his bedchamber, she found him reclining on a chaise longue before the fire. He called her over with a quick motion of his hand. He looked up at her from beneath heavy-lidded lashes. “I must confess that my plans were innocent when I brought you here.”

“And now?” she asked as she sat down on the edge of the chaise. He shifted to the side to give her room.

“My plans are no longer innocent.” His voice sounded like it had been dragged down a gravel drive. “Come here,” he said as he spread his thighs and pulled her between them, and then pulled the towel from her hair, combing it gently with his fingertips before he drew her forward to lie on his chest.

“I’m going to get you all wet,” she warned.

Finn sat forward and jerked his shirt over his head, and then pulled her forward. “I want to hold you,” he said, his voice raw and full of emotion. He kissed her forehead gently. “I could have lost you tonight.”

Claire’s soul hummed as he held her against him.

“Don’t ever put yourself in danger like that again, do you hear me?”

She heard him, but she couldn’t possibly comply with his wishes. Not in this matter.

Claire was naked beneath his dressing gown, and she’d never been more aware of her skin than she was at that moment. Goose flesh rose on her arms and chest, and her nipples were hard points against the soft fabric of his dressing gown. Finn tipped her face up and touched his lips softly to hers.

“I wish I could marry you tonight,” he murmured as his tongue teased her lips open, just before he dipped inside. Claire met the greedy thrusts of his tongue, and he moaned low in his throat. He leaned back and looked down at her, emotion brimming in his eyes. “If anything ever happened to you, I don’t know what I’d do.”

Claire scooted up onto her knees and laid her upper body against his naked chest. With her hands on his shoulders, she lifted herself until she was nose to nose with him. “Ouch,” Finn said, as her knee brushed the rigid curve of his manhood behind his trousers.

“Sorry,” she said, pulling back a little.

Finn adjusted her body, pulling his legs together as he spread her thighs over his lap, setting one knee on each side of him. His robe was still closed about her waist, but Claire looked down to find that it gaped open at the top, and spread widely at the bottom, pulling tight across her hips. Finn sat forward and growled, just before he reached into the vee at the neck of the robe and pushed it wide around her breasts. He stared down at them for a moment, his mouth open wide, then he nudged her higher and brought her left breast to his lips.

Claire’s breath caught when he gently tongued the rigid peak, and she squirmed to get closer to him. The ridge of his manhood pressed against her aching cleft. Claire spread her legs wider and snuggled down closer to him.

“Just a minute,” he warned as he reached between them and unbuttoned the fall of his trousers. He pulled the turgid length of himself free and then tugged her knees forward, pulling her tighter against him. “God, Claire, you’re going to unman me.”

Finn’s hands gripped her naked bottom tightly, kneading the tender flesh, as he brought her forward to slide back and forth along his length. Claire could see the tip of his erection as it shimmered in the firelight, moving back and forth, but not sliding inside. “Please, Finn,” she murmured against his lips.

Claire reached between them and took his erection in her fist. She pointed him toward the core of her, the part that wept with want for him. “Claire,” he moaned.

Claire wasn’t certain what to do.

Finn sucked her earlobe between his lips and suckled it gently. His fingertips slid up to the pointy tip of her ear and back down. “Put me inside you,” he said, his voice low by her ear. Where his voice was broken before, it was volcanic now. It was full of heat and want. “Put me inside you, Claire.”