The Pleasure Trap (21 page)

Appalled at the lack of finesse on which he prided himself, he rolled from her and flung one arm across his eyes. He gave a shaken laugh. “It’s never been like this for me before,” he said.

She raised herself from the pillows and lowered her face to his. “That makes two of us,” she said. “It’s never been like this for me, either.” Then she kissed him.

It was the dream that made her bold. He wasn’t the only one who had suffered the torments of unsated desire. Night after night she’d wakened, not knowing what she wanted except that it had to be Ash. Tonight she would be his and he would be hers. She refused to think beyond that point. Ash was right. Her troubles would still be there tomorrow. She’d deal with them then.

Ash forced his hands to be gentle as he cupped her shoulders. She was making love to the man in her dreams. What she didn’t seem to realize was that he wasn’t as docile or chivalrous or harmless as that man. In her dreams, she had tamed him into something she could manage. If he gave in to his baser instincts and took her the way he wanted, she would never look at him with such trusting eyes again. Holding himself rigidly in check, he answered the demand in her kiss with a restraint that surprised even himself.

Eve pulled back and looked down at him. A frown puckered her brow. “What is it, Ash?” she asked anxiously. “Are you unwell? You do look a bit pale. Am I too wild for you, too wanton? Is that it?” She gave a wry little smile. “Is it me? Or is it you?”

Ash was speechless. She thought that he lacked passion? That he had ice in his veins? That he was no match for her in bed? The devil with that!

She gave a cry of fright when he suddenly pounced on her. Between long, wet kisses, he got out, “You want passion? I’ll show you passion, but don’t say you haven’t been warned. I’m not that paragon of chivalry you dreamed up. I’m a flesh-and-blood man, and I’m done with treating you like a priceless piece of china.”

“Idiot!” she managed when he allowed her to breathe. “Isn’t that what I’ve been telling you?”

They were smiling when their lips met, but as the kiss lingered, their smiles slipped away. His arms clamped around her, dragging her as close as they could get. She twined her arms around his neck and combed her fingers through his hair. It wasn’t enough for them.

In quick impatient movements, he stripped her of her night things, then, swiftly rising, he started on his shirt. She went on her knees and helped him disrobe. There was no false modesty on her part. He’d seen her naked in her dreams, or were they his dreams? It hadn’t worried her then and it didn’t worry her now. She was caught up in the thrill of the moment, driven by dizzying needs she only half understood.

When he was down to bare skin, she sat back on her heels. He’d been naked in her dreams, but it was different then, foggy, unfocused. Now she saw him clearly. He was, she allowed, a fine figure of a man, but it had never occurred to her that he would have the powerful physique of an athlete. Her gaze traveled from his broad shoulders to his groin, and she stopped breathing altogether.

“Eve?”

Her eyes jerked up to meet his. He saw the uncertainty there and felt a knot of tension gather across his shoulders. He’d never wanted to please a woman as much as he wanted to please Eve. He didn’t want to frighten her. The last thing he wanted was to frighten her. But he was a man, and she must see that his strength far outstripped hers. Could she trust him enough to put herself into his care?

“What are you thinking?” he asked softly.

“I think,” she said, “that my dreams have led me astray. They didn’t do justice to you, Ash.”

He let out a telling sigh. Smiling, he snagged her wrist and spread her fingers over his chest. “Everything I am, everything I hold, is yours to command.”

She raised her brows. “I’ll remind you of those touching words the next time you scold me for not obeying your orders.”

With a great whoop of laughter, he used his weight to carry her down on the mattress. Their playful bout of wrestling did not last long. He was hungry to know all of her, from the tips of her fingers down to her toes. She was carried away by the sheer magnitude of his desire, the wild and wanton demands of his lips and hands. Half-understood needs that had kept her awake long into the night were becoming unbearable. She was reaching for something but didn’t know what it was.

He’d always felt that her cool exterior concealed a deep reservoir of passion. Now, as she gave him back kiss for kiss, touch for touch, he was dazed by her response and wanted more. Locked together, they rolled on the bed. Heedless with wanting, she arched into him. He tried to tell her to wait, that he didn’t want to hurt her. She was too steeped in passion to care. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as her hips moved in unknowing appeal.

Breath heavy, he spread her legs and entered her. She went perfectly still. So did he.

“Ash?” she quavered.

He shut his eyes and gritted his teeth. One slow, careful thrust broke through the fragile barrier. She gave a shocked cry and sucked in a shuddering breath. He tried to soothe her fears with words, but he hardly knew what to say. He told her that he was as much a novice as she. He’d never been a woman’s first lover.

“Except with you,” he ended lamely.

A smile bloomed on her face, and she lifted her head to plant a kiss on his lips. “Don’t look so stricken. I know there’s a price for pleasure, and this time I’m willing to pay it.”

He wanted to tell her that what they’d shared went beyond pleasure. He wanted to be intimate with her in the fullest sense of that word. How could he expect her to believe him? He had a reputation to live down.

Her nose wrinkled. “Is that all there is?”

He kissed the pout from her mouth. “No,” he said. “Now we start over.”

She was too impatient to start over. Her hands kneaded his shoulders, his back, his flanks. The little cries she made at the back of her throat made the blood pound inside his head. When she began to move her hips frantically, he could no longer resist what she wanted, what they both wanted. In the flickering candlelight, he watched as her eyes glazed over. His powerful arms locked around her, forcing her to match his rhythm, and together they went hurtling into the void.

He must have dozed, for when he wakened he saw the glimmer of a new dawn through the window. The candles were sputtering in their holders. If he didn’t get back to his own bed, the servants would catch them in flagrante delicto. That wouldn’t be a first for him, but he was determined that not a breath of scandal would touch Eve.

She mumbled incoherently when he slipped out of bed, but other than that, she did not waken. It took him only a moment to get dressed, then he stood, irresolute, staring down at the sleeping girl. She’d fallen asleep right after the loving, when he was in the middle of telling her that he would do right by her.

He drew the eiderdown up to cover her bare shoulders, brushed a kiss to her lips, then straightened. He didn’t like the doubts in his mind or the feeling that had settled in the pit of his stomach. What did a man like him—a drone, a pleasure-seeker, a celebrated skirt-chaser—have to offer this vibrant, intelligent, lovely young woman?

He was cranky when he entered his own chamber, and even more cranky when he discovered Dexter sprawled on the middle of his bed. He tried ordering him off, but Dexter’s response was to open one eye and show him his fangs. Undaunted, Ash shoved him to the edge of the mattress and climbed in beside him.

Still fully dressed, arms folded, with his back propped up by pillows, Ash contemplated the events of that night. He hadn’t entered her room with the intention of seducing her. All he’d wanted was to see if she had the birthmark or if he’d only dreamed it. So, she had the birthmark. What did that prove?

“There must be a rational explanation,” he told Dexter.

Dexter snorted and nestled closer.

But there was no rational explanation. A door was opening in his mind, a door that he was reluctant to go through. Eve Dearing was a Claverley. What else could she do besides play with his dreams?

He was still mulling over that thought when he drifted into sleep.

Chapter Seventeen

It was long after breakfast before Eve came downstairs. She felt a little awkward when she pushed into the breakfast room, but there was no Ash. There was only one person at the table and that was Miss Claverley, and a footman to wait on them.

“Ah, Eve.” Miss Claverley dabbed at her lips with her napkin. “There’s fresh tea in the teapot and I’ve saved you a slice or two of toast. You haven’t forgotten, I hope, that we’re going shopping with Liza this morning? Everyone has gone upstairs to get ready, except Lydia and Anna. She’s feeling a little under the weather—Lydia, I mean—and Anna is staying behind to keep her company.”

Eve sank down on the chair next to her aunt’s and thanked the footman for pouring her tea. Her smile was a little thin. “It never ceases to amaze me,” she said, “how you can answer all my questions before I say a word.”

Miss Claverley beamed at Eve. “It’s because I’m a Claverley, of course.”

Miss Claverley set down her cup. “That reminds me,” she said. “Lord Denison asked me to give you a message before he rode into town. What was it? Now, let me see. He has business with his steward in Richmond but he should be back in time for dinner.” Miss Claverley frowned. “He said that you are not to go off on your own, no matter what the provocation. And he is right, you know. We were all warned not to go off alone after Lydia was attacked.”

Eve knew that her aunt’s words were meant for the footman. They dared not speak openly of Nell.

“Thank you, Roger,” said Miss Claverley, nodding at the footman. “You may go.”

As soon as the footman closed the door, Miss Claverley turned to Eve. Keeping her voice low, she said, “Anna found Nell this morning, and it all ended well.”

“Where was she?”

“With the donkeys, in their little shelter.”

Eve smiled so hard, she thought her face would crack. “I’m so glad. Is she all right? What about her ankle? What did she say about last night?”

“You’ll have to ask Anna. All I had to do was give you the message. I feel privileged. I don’t think Anna said anything to any of the others. The fewer people who know about Nell, the better, I suppose.”

Eve let out a heartfelt sigh. “If there had been any trouble, I know Anna would have wakened me.”

She reached for a slice of toast and a heaping spoon of marmalade. She felt as though a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders and she laughed. Nell had three champions now to look out for her—four, counting Ash. And where was that knave, anyway?

She’d come downstairs feeling hopeful, fearful, and a little bit awkward, wondering what she would say when they came face to face. Something wondrous had happened last night. Did he feel it, too?

Her aunt was looking at her with a speculative gleam in her eye.

“What is it?” asked Eve.

“You laughed,” replied Miss Claverley, “and I haven’t heard that lighthearted sound from you in a long time. Oh, in company you can put on a good show, but I know my Eve. What is it, dear? What’s been troubling you these last weeks? Is it something to do with Antonia? I know you were hoping to find the quarry where she died. Can’t you tell me, Eve?”

Eve had a perfect evasion ready. She could have mentioned Nell’s name, but her aunt’s words gave her pause, and her thoughts took a new direction.

She took a sip of tea, set down her cup, and came to a sudden decision. “Aunt Millicent,” she said, “I’ve been having the same dream over and over and I don’t know what to make of it.”

“A nightmare?”

“No.” Eve shook her head as she groped for words to explain her dream. “It frightens me, but it’s not a nightmare.”

Miss Claverley put down her cup and gave Eve her undivided attention. Those never-far-from-laughter eyes had become intensely Claverley eyes, arresting, measuring, knowing.

“Describe your dream, Eve,” she said quietly.

Eve began with the setting—the ballroom, the dancers, the glass doors to the terrace, the gardens—and ended with her feeling of dread. There were no interruptions from her aunt, though sometimes Eve paused to search for words. When she had nothing more to say, she looked at her aunt with a question in her eyes.

Miss Claverley took a moment before she spoke. “What do you think the dream means?”

Eve sighed. “I think it was my mother’s last message to me before she died.” She shook her head. “No, I
know
that it was her last message to me. I think she was looking into the future and she wanted to warn me of danger. It’s more than that.” She thought for a moment before going on. “I can’t avoid what’s going to happen no matter how hard I try.” She gave a feeble smile. “You can imagine that the first thing I do when I enter a house is sneak a look at the ballroom. I haven’t yet found the ballroom of my dreams.”

“What about the picture gallery here at the Manor?” Miss Claverley asked with a smile.

“It’s up three flights of stairs and there are no glass doors giving onto the terrace.”

Miss Claverley chuckled. There was another silence as she took a moment to reflect before she spoke. Finally she said, “I can’t tell you what your dream means, Eve, except that you’re right to take the danger seriously. But let me tell you what all those elements in your dream say to me. Nothing will be exactly the same when your dream catches up with you and you come to live through it. Everything is a landmark, a signpost, if you like, to get your attention and show you the way.”

Eve screwed up her face. “That’s it? That’s all you can tell me?”

Miss Claverley edged forward in her chair. “It’s a great deal, if you think about it. You’ll know the moment your dream has become real if you stay alert to all the signs. Antonia would want to protect her daughter. She has given you a map. Follow it.”

Eve debated about telling her aunt about Angelo, but the footman came in with a fresh pot of tea, and after he withdrew, Eve saw the change in her aunt. Her eyes had lost their Claverley intensity and mirrored nothing but anxiety.

She clasped Eve’s hand. “You will be careful, Eve?”

Eve couldn’t bring herself to add to her aunt’s worries. “I’ll be careful,” she promised.

Before getting dressed for the shopping expedition, Eve detoured to Lydia’s room. Lydia was dressed for the outing but had obviously changed her mind at the last minute. She was languishing in a chair like a Gothic heroine and the fire was lit.

Anna was keeping her company and came forward to usher Eve into the room. “We’ll talk later,” she murmured for Eve’s ears only. “Wait for me when you leave.”

“What did you say?” Lydia called out.

Anna replied, “I said that you had a restless night and weren’t feeling you could cope with shopping and afternoon calls and so on.”

Lydia gave an apologetic smile. “I don’t know what has come over me. I think I must be coming down with something. I can’t seem to stop shivering.”

“What you need,” said Anna, “is a change of scenery.” To Eve, she went on, “I’m taking Lydia home with me. There’s nothing like good Cornish air and sea breezes to put roses in one’s cheeks.”

Eve did not comment on Anna’s pristine complexion that appeared untouched by the good Cornish air and sea breezes. She was more concerned about Lydia. Though her wound was healing, she seemed more fragile as the days passed. Eve glanced at Anna. She didn’t fit the picture of a motherly type, but her care of Lydia was unstinting, to say the least, and her concern for Nell was sterling.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Eve said. “When will you go?”

“Oh, nothing has been decided yet. I must do what’s best for my donkeys, you see. They can’t walk all the way to Cornwall, so transportation has to be arranged for them, too.”

Lucky donkeys,
Eve thought.
Nothing but the best for them.
She imagined them in a gilded carriage, looking out the windows, waving like royalty. She hoped she and Anna had settled what to do about Nell before Anna went home.

Lydia interrupted her train of thought. “What do you think, Eve? Anna has found a boy to look after her donkeys.”

“Really? When was this?”

“This morning,” Anna said. “He was in the pasture with them, and they seemed to like him and he them. I hope he’ll look after my donkeys, but nothing is settled.”

There followed a long, considering silence.

“A boy?” ventured Eve at length.

“His name is Neil,” answered Anna emphatically. She gave Eve a straight look. “I hope it works out. He’s a wanderer, you know, a vagrant, and they don’t like to be tied down. He may come to Cornwall with us, if I can get him to leave here.”

Lydia said softly, “Cornwall is so far away.”

When tears welled in Lydia’s eyes, Anna shook her head. “Don’t start worrying about Bertha,” she said. “She’ll manage quite well on her own. And it’s only for a holiday or until you regain your strength. If you go home to Warwick, you’ll only be a burden to her.”

To Eve, she added, “My donkeys are just what Lydia needs to take her mind off things. You can’t think of your own troubles when you’re taking care of these poor abused creatures. And once they learn to trust you, they are very affectionate. You’ll love it there, Lydia.”

Lydia gave a tearful sniff and nodded.

This new Lydia did not fit with the dasher Eve remembered from the symposium right up to the attack. The thought that she would do anything to have the old Lydia back was startling.

Lydia became quite tearful as Eve made to leave, saying how kind everyone had been to her and how little she’d done to deserve such friends. By the time Eve got out of the room, she was feeling horribly chastened.

She did not have to wait long for Anna. “Well?” was all she said.

Anna did not smile. “I found our runaway and did what I could for her. I’d brought apples for the donkeys, so I gave her those, then showed her a place in the loft where she could hide.”

“What did she tell you?”

“Nothing. She was too frightened to say anything. I told her I would go back to the Manor and get food and blankets. When I returned, she was gone.”

“Gone?” Eve shook her head. “But my aunt said it ended well.”

“And so it did. She’ll be back. Meantime, I’ve left the food and blankets in the loft for her. Trust me, Eve. I know what I’m doing. We have to be patient.”

“I know, I know.” Eve’s anxious eyes searched Anna’s face. “I can’t help thinking of what happened to Lydia.”

Anna reached for Eve’s hand and squeezed it. “We can’t force Nell to do what we think is best for her. She’s like a wild thing. We have to trust her instincts.”

Eve was still thinking of Nell as she descended the stairs to join the others on the shopping expedition. Liza caught up to her, looking as pretty as a picture in a blue velvet pelisse with a matching bonnet. Eve would have been satisfied if she could get Nell to comb and brush her hair.

Liza said, “I hear Lydia is not coming with us.”

“No, she has decided that the outing would be too long and too wearing. She thinks she may be coming down with something.”

Liza gave a short laugh. “And I suppose Dr. Braine will be dancing attendance on her? When Lydia crooks her little finger, he drops everything to rush to her side.”

“What?”

Eve was so taken aback by this outburst that she halted on the stairs. Liza went on, stopped, then turned back to look at Eve. Hot color ran under the younger girl’s skin.

“I beg your pardon,” said Liza. “That was a childish thing to say. I know Lydia is not herself. Anyone can see what she has suffered. But I do think that Archie—that is, Dr. Braine—could remember his manners. I was not in Lydia’s room to flirt with him. I thought I could help. Now I’m banished whenever he comes calling, just as though I were a child.”

This little speech had Eve firmly suppressing a smile. She descended the stairs to Liza’s level and linked their arms. As they went on down, she said, “What do you care what Dr. Braine thinks? I know that Lydia enjoys your company. If you want to avoid the doctor, change the time of your visits.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

Nothing more was said until they reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Do you know what vexes me?” said Liza. She didn’t wait for an answer. “I admire him tremendously, as a doctor, I mean, and he seems to think I’m a flibbertigibbet. Do you think it’s because I’ve spent the last few years in Paris? Is it wrong to enjoy parties and balls and dressing up? The trouble with Dr. Braine is that he’s a sobersides.”