Everything I Ever Wanted (23 page)

South kissed her openmouthed, his tongue sliding over hers with the same deliberate plunge as his hips. He felt himself near climax and tore his mouth away, lifting his head to draw in a draught of air and hearing her do the same. Of its own accord the rhythm of their coupling changed as each thrust came more shaliowly and quickly. Her fingertips pressed whitely into his shoulders. He rocked her, urging up and forward with his hips. He felt her watching him as he threw back his head and surged one last time.

India embraced the shudder that was his release and drew it into her. She accepted his seed, the huskily whispered sound of her name on his lips, and the last tremors of his pleasure. When he made to remove himself from her, she bade him stay because the entwined intimacy was comforting. It was only after some minutes had passed that he made to leave her again. This time she let him.

He rolled on his side away from her. She lay on her back. At first it was only that they pretended to sleep. Neither of them could have said when pretense became the reality, just that it came to pass.

The gush of something wet spilling from between her legs woke India. Eyes opening wide, afraid to move at first, she simply squeezed her thighs together to hold back the pulsing flow of blood and semen. Her bedchamber was darker than before, and she realized though it might not be late, night had certainly come upon them while they slept. Beside her, South's breathing was even and easy. He didn't stir as she carefully lifted the blankets and slid out of bed. She tentatively touched herself between her legs. Her thighs were smeared with her own blood.

India stole a glance at South as she silently rounded the bed. There was no dressing screen in the room, no place for her to go to steal a moment of privacy. Feeling her way, she found her discarded clothes and finally her shift. She slipped it over her head and held it loosely just at the level of her hips until she could clean herself. The water in the pitcher was cold, but she poured it into the basin on the washstand anyway. She dampened a cloth, then pressed it between her thighs.

India sucked in her breath sharply at the chill of it and stole another glance at South. She wished he were not so quiet. The occasional soft snore would have done much to ease India's mind as she completed her ablutions. She worked quickly, letting her shift drop to her ankles only when she was finished. Afterward she poured fresh water on the cloth and scrubbed it hard against itself, removing the pink stain she was certain would be there. She wrung it out, placed it on the washstand, then gingerly parted the curtains and opened the window. She pitched the water outside, closed the window, and let the curtains fall back.

It was then that she turned back to the bed and found herself taking root where she stood. Southerton was sitting up now, hunched on the edge of the mattress, a sheet pulled across his hips and legs. She did not have to see his eyes to know they were watching her closely or that they had gone from gray to steel. India's nerveless fingers could no longer hold the basin. It fell directly at her feet but did not break. It was odd, that. It should have been the bowl, she thought, instead of her.

South said nothing. He stood, wrapped the sheet around him, and went directly to the hearth. He stoked the fire, added coals, then lighted the candles on the mantel. India knew what he was about and she didn't try to stop him. She watched him carry one of the candlesticks back to the bed and hold it out over the disturbed tangle of blankets. He remained there, unmoving for a moment, then pulled the edge of one quilt back. Even from her disadvantaged angle several feet away, India could clearly see the smear of blood on the sheet that had been under her.

He would have liked to believe she had simply started her courses, but what he would have liked was not what was true. South lowered the candle. He turned slowly on his heel to India.

"You might have told me," he said quietly.

She shrugged.

"Do not do that. Do not act as if it were unimportant."

India lifted her chin. It had only been because she had no words. She found them now. "It was a detail. Do not assign it more significance than it deserves."

"You were a virgin. I think that has significance of its own accord."

"I told you once I was no whore." "It is not the same thing as speaking plainly about the other."

"It cannot matter so much to you, m'lord. Someone must be first."

"So there can be a second?" he asked. "I think not, India."

India made no reply. She stooped and began to pick up the remainder of her discarded clothes.

"I mean it, India. You will take no other lovers."

She did not look up. She regarded the creased state of her gown and regretted she had not taken more care with it a few hours earlier. It was in want of ironing now. She laid it over her arm, smoothing the wrinkled folds as best she could.

Southerton was not accustomed to being so utterly disregarded. Quite without knowing how it happened, he heard his father's voice. The intonation, the lofty accents, even the deeply felt sense of injury were all there. What was a mystery was how it came to spill from his lips. "I will not be ignored."

India glanced up, both of her brows raised in response to his high-handedness. "Then you must not make such outrageous statements, my lord. When you have recovered yourself, you will know for a certainty that you are deserving of no reply." She bent her head again, concentrating on her task.

"Leave them."

"I would not abuse your generosity in providing a wardrobe for me."

"I don't care about that."

She laid the last articles carefully over her arm and straightened slowly. "I care, my lord. Save what I wore when Darrow brought me here, none of this clothing is my own. I imagined you took some pains to see to my comfort, and I would not slight your efforts."

He waved that aside. "It was nothing."

India placed the clothing over the back of a chair, then opened the doors of the large armoire. She removed a silken dressing gown and slipped it on. It added a much needed layer of warmth to the chill she was feeling so deeply. "I wish you would not dismiss it lightly," she said. "It was kind of you." She turned around, belting the robe. "You will perhaps understand that I did not have that opinion at the outset. I am quite aware of the other women who have preceded me here."

South stared at her. "How"

"Mr. Darrow has apprised me of the use of this cottage as a trysting place. I collect there has been a veritable parade of mistresses."

One of his dark brows kicked up. "A veritable parade?"

"I do not think I overstate," she said without rancor. "It was irksome to realize the clothing you provided for me belonged first to another."

"Irksome."

She nodded. "I thought at first it might be jealousy," she said. "But upon careful reflection it was merely irksome. It cannot be important that you set mistresses in this place before me, and it must not be important that another will come after. You see, my lord, I will care for what you have given me now, because it is not only a measure of your generosity, but also because I would not begrudge someone else the use of it later."

Southerton was glad for the bed immediately at his back. He sat down slowly. Candlelight flickered over his face, illuminating the lines of weariness at the corners of his eyes.

"You speak of yourself now," he said quietly. "And of me."

"If you say so."

"It is an imperfect metaphor."

"But you take my point."

He nodded. He set the candlestick on the bedside table. In a gesture that bespoke quietly of his frustration, South's fingers raked his dark hair. "Things have indeed become complicated," he said at last.

India remembered his words clearly. Will it ease either of us, do you think? Or complicate our lives beyond reason ? "I believe you had some foreknowledge of that coming to pass." The faint smile that had briefly touched her lips vanished. "Do you entertain regrets?"

Did he? South wondered. There was no single-word answer he could give, nothing so simple as yes or no. Because there was more truth in it, he said instead, "Perhaps I should.."

India's eyes closed briefly and she nodded, understanding. "Perhaps I should also." She quietly crossed the room to the vanity and sat on the padded stool. The mirror reflected South's still figure on the bed. He was not watching her. Though she doubted it was anything in the fireplace that held his attention, that was the direction of his gaze. She picked up a brush and ran it through her hair several times before she began to loosely plait it. "Shall I prepare you something to eat?" she asked. "It is not so late."

"Is there no housekeeper to do that?"

"There is Mrs. Simon."

"The widow," South said, vaguely recalling mat West had told him there was such a person to care for the cottage. "So that is her name."

India regarded him oddly. "Yes, well, it appears she has not returned from the village. Or if she did, then she has taken herself off again. Have you not noticed how quiet the house is? I suspect Mr. Darrow has also beaten a hasty retreat."

The vision of Darrow's swift exit had the power to raise South's smile. "He looked like a man in need of rescuing. How long had he been abed?"

"Almost from the moment we arrived. All of the trunks had not yet been removed from the carriage when he collapsed in the doorway." India saw South's brow crease as he tried to sort out what could have happened so quickly to bring the thing about. "Do not trouble yourself to feign concern on your valet's behalf, my lord. After all, it was at your command that he played the invalid, and I beg you not to say it was otherwise. You must allow it is not cotton wool packed between these ears. I have some notion of the lengths he was prepared to go in order to keep me here."

India tied the end of her long plait with a black grosgrain ribbon and let it fall over her shoulder. She turned on the stool and faced South directly. There was a measure of satisfaction in seeing that he had been rendered quite speechless. "In an odd way, it was a compliment to my character that you believed I would remain at Ambermede to care for Mr. Darrow. I tried to keep that at the forefront of my mind, else I should have put him down that very first day. He fainted at my feet, you know. That is, he pretended to. I brought him around directly and managed to get him to the bedchamber, where you found him. He had had some idea of sleeping on a pallet below stairs until you returned. That was, quite naturally, unacceptable."

"Quite naturally," South repeated faintly.

India went on as if he had not spoken. "It would have been uncomfortable for him in the extreme, especially since your return was not so swift as was your intention."

South did not want to be moved off course by explaining himself now. He said simply, "There were events."

"Of course," she said. "There always are." She rose and began collecting South's discarded clothing. "I contrived to care for your carriage and your grays and bring the remainder of the trunks inside. I found the cottage had adequate stores of food, and set about preparing something for Mr. Darrow and myself. It was a light repast only. I admit to some weariness by then, and I did not think Mr. Darrow should have more. He was complaining of an unsettled stomach and muzzy head."

Symptoms South shared at the moment. "Go on," he said, fascinated.

"As I said, I prepared a light supper only. Still, you can imagine that it gave me quite a start to come upon Mr. Darrow helping himself from the larder much later that night. When I confronted him, he dropped like a felled tree at my feet for the second time. Upon my reviving him, he swore he did not know what he had been about. He would have had me believe he had been walking in his sleep."

"Sleepwalking," South murmured.

India finished collecting his clothes and placed them on the bed beside him. "Cannot I prepare something for you?" she asked again. The lines of weariness had eased about his mouth, but she knew it was only because she had successfully distracted him with her discourse.

He caught her wrist as she would have moved away. "In a moment," he said. "First I would hear the rest of this story."

She looked down at his hand. His long fingers were like a loosely coiled bracelet around her wrist. She was tugged gently and moved to stand in front of him. The sheet that covered his lap was pulled taut as he hitched his heels on the bed frame and opened his thighs so that she could be inched to come between them. He took her other wrist and held it just as loosely as the first. He turned her arms lightly and brushed the faint blue web of veins with his thumbs.

India took a shallow breath. She felt her breasts swell, grow heavy, and begin to ache. She glanced away from his hand but did not meet his eyes. "I that is, Mr. Darrow" It was no good. She could not pick up the threads of what she had been saying.

"Sleepwalking," South prompted her.

"Oh yes." To her own ears her voice sounded vague and distracted. She pressed on. "That is what what he told me. I knew then what he was about and that it was all in aid of keeping me here. I determined I would also play his game. I helped him back to his bed, and each time he made noises about feeling more the thing, I made noises about returning to London."

"I see," he said, though he was still trying to work the puzzle out. His caress of India's wrists was more absent now than deliberate. "So you passed nine days in this fashion. Extraordinary."

"Mrs. Simon was inordinately helpful," India said. "She knows a great many remedies for what ailed poor Mr. Darrow."

"You said nothing was wrong with him."

"Precisely. But he was not without complaints."

South regarded her serene smile with new appreciation. "Therefore, you were not without cures."

"Just so."

He laughed outright then, not so much at what she said but in her ability to persuade him at once of both her wicked intent and innocence of the same. "I perceive Mr. Darrow was no match for you."

"I did have help," she reminded him.

South nodded. "Yes, you did."

She thought he would release her then, but he did not. He continued to hold her wrists, rubbing his thumbs idly across the sensitive undersides. She looked at him more directly when he remained quiet. A faint line had appeared between his brows, and she recognized the expression as one of careful deliberation.

"There is one part I am not certain I comprehend," he said slowly. "You had only arrived when you decided you wanted to go again. You gave no indication when I left you with Darrow that your intention was to immediately leave. Indeed, had you wanted to do that you could have made a better attempt at escape while you were still on the road."

India's weight shifted from one leg to the other. "I changed my mind."

Had he not been holding her wrists, he might have missed the subtle shift in her stance. Nothing changed in her expression. The clues were rarely there, he realized, unless she wanted them to be or simply could not help herself. "Yes," he said. "But why? Had you done so after two or three days when I did not return, your decision would have been understandable, but this choice you made to leave so quickly seems impulsive."

"Does it?"

"India." There was a mild reproof in his tone. "I shall tear it from Darrow if not from you. I would rather hear it from you."

She sighed. "Oh, very well. It is as I mentioned before. It was irksome learning about the other women."

"Aaah, yes," South said, taking that in. "The veritable parade."

"I had not yet made peace with it."

South's glance was wry. "Then it certainly was provoking."

"Yes." India gave her wrists a tug. She should have been able to easily break free from South's light clasp, but his fingers tightened and he held her fast. It seemed to her the bracelets had become shackles.

"I am teasing you, India." He gave her arms a small shake to impress the point.

"I know." It did not change what she felt. "Let me go, please."

He did. South watched her take a few steps backward. Her features remained shuttered, but she was rubbing her wrists, erasing what lingered of the pressure of his fingers on her skin. He frowned. "Let me see, India. Did I hurt you?"

"What?" Her eyes followed his and she saw what she was doing. She let her hands fall to her side. "No. It is nothing. You didn't hurt me."

He studied her a moment longer, then drew in a breath and released it slowly. "May I still accept your offer to prepare a supper?"

India did not hesitate. The distraction would be welcome. "Yes, of course." She took a pair of soft kid slippers from the base of the armoire and put them on. "It will not take long. I made soup earlier today." She went to the door, pausing to look at him over her shoulder just as she made to step into the hallway."After you eat, you will tell me why I am here, my lord." She closed the door on Southerton's implacably grim smile.

The soup was heartier fare than what India had served Darrow. There were large pieces of chicken floating in the broth. It was thick with carrots, potatoes, and celery. She had also warmed a loaf of bread Mrs. Simon had made only that morning. She set it out along with sweet cream butter and honey just as South came in from tending to Griffin and his grays. He was carrying an armload of parcels.

"Was Mr. Darrow out there?" she asked.

Southerton nodded. "At sixes and sevens. Not knowing whether to come or go."

She looked behind South to see if his valet was following. When she didn't see him she said, "You might have invited him in for a proper meal."