Everything I Ever Wanted (36 page)

She closed her eyes and whispered his name. She called him Matthew as her body rose, fell, and finally shattered against his.

South washed himself at the basin, then sat on the edge of the bed and passed the damp flannel to India. The candle on the table was once again lighted, and the flame flickered as his hand passed near it. He did not suppose for a moment that she would allow him to perform the intimate task of washing her. It was odd, he thought, what she would permit and what she would not. While his back was turned at the basin, she had reached for her nightgown and dragged it under the covers with her. He had heard her shifting first one way then another, and he gave her time to put it on, not turning around again until she was quiet.

The cloth was cool, and India averted her head as she drew it between her thighs. She should not have given him permission to light the candle, but he had asked politely and it was no longer in her to deny him that. It had been a revelation making love to him this time, and she was certain now that that was what they had done.

Made love. It was more than coupling. More than mating. There was a wildness to it that made it primal, but it was never without tenderness, never without joy. Yes, they had made love.

India returned the cloth to the basin when he held it out to her. She watched him put it back on the commode, supremely unconcerned by his nakedness. He turned and caught her starting at him.

"Does it bother you?" he asked. "Should I put my nightshirt on?"

She shook her head. Why should he? she thought. He was beautiful. She did not say as much to him again, but it was there for him to see in her eyes. India was not shy about feasting on him as he skirted the foot of the bed and came to stand on the other side. She raised the blankets for him. "I have never seen a naked man before."

One of South's brows kicked up. "Never?"

"Never."

"Margrave?"

"No. There has never been" She hesitated. "You know I was a virgin."

South slipped into the bed and turned on his side. He propped himself on an elbow and regarded India frankly. "Yes, and I also know there are ways for a woman to pleasure a man that do not require her to relinquish her virginity. When you took me in your mouth, I thought perhaps you had some knowledge of that."

India's chin came up a notch. "I believe it is not uncommon to have knowledge of things for which one has no experience."

He smiled. The flush that colored her cheeks was at odds with her cool tone. "A fine riposte," he said. "And true enough. Are you angry that I spoke so baldly?"

"No."

South touched his forehead to hers and looked her straight in the eye, playfully trying to judge her truthfulness. "I liked that you wanted to pleasure me in such a fashion." He kissed her lightly on the mouth. "I shall look forward to pleasuring you in the same manner."

India blinked.

"Is it that you have no knowledge or no experience?" he asked, rocking back on his side again.

"No experience."

"I see."

India's smile was rueful. She turned slightly and laid her hand on his chest. "No, you don't, but it is kind of you to pretend." She was reluctantly glad of the candlelight because it left South's features open to her. The centers of his eyes were darkening, almost eclipsing the gray irises. She said softly, "This is an idyll, isn't it?"

"An idyll?"

"Yes."

"I had not thought of it in such terms." Because he did not want to. An idyll was brief, a romantic interlude that by definition must have an end. "Idylls should evoke peace and contentment. You will allow that has not always been the way of it between us."

"No," she agreed. "But there have been moments." Like now, she thought. She was filled with the sweetness of being next to him, lying in his bed, her hand covering his heartbeat, and fairly drowning in the whispered huskiness of his voice. India's sigh was wistful. "I have been wishing I had some talent for storytelling, but my profession requires only that I use the words of others. I should like to lay my account before you slowly, make it last weeks, even months, and little by little over that time I would make you fall in love with me. It is foolish, I know, but mayhap we would not have to leave here then."

India saw he meant to say something, and she shook her head quickly, staving him off. "I have come to realize I am not possessed entirely of a practical nature. There is a bit of a mad romantic in me, though I am not so adventurous as you. You will want to leave Ambermede soon and be about the business of finding Mr. Kendall's killer. There is also poor Mr. Rutherford to think of and the matter of Lady Macquey-Howell and Señor Cruz. I will return to the theatre with some suitable explanation for my absence, and Mr. Kent will find fault with everything I do for a fortnight. In the end, though, he will forgive me and allow me to return to the fold."

India's hand drifted from South's chest and lay in the space between their bodies. "You and I will not meet often, and then only by chance. I think the colonel will have no more use for me. It will be the same of you."

South said nothing for a moment. He pushed himself apright in bed and leaned back against the headboard. His fingers plowed furrows through his inky hair. "You have riven this a great deal of thought.""Yes."

"And you believe you're in the right of it."

"I would not have said it otherwise." India waited to see if he would present some argument to the contrary. He did not. Neither did he look at her. Instead, he stared straight ahead at the opposite wall, though there was nothing there to hold his interest. She could not fathom what he was thinking; his eyes remained remote, the line of his mouth implacable.

India reined in her disappointment. There would be tears when she was alone, but not for anything would she have him see them now. "I thought I would wait until morning to tell you the rest, but I find I cannot. It should be said and said quickly, so there will be no mistaking what has really been between us." At first she thought he had not been listening; then she saw the muscle working in his cheek and the slight affirmative nod. Brushing back a few strands of hair that had fallen over her cheek, India picked up the threads of the story she had abandoned hours earlier.

"I told you that when I left my position at the Olmsteads and made for London it was with Lady Margrave's blessing. That was true. It is also true that in return for her support she asked that I keep my distance from her son. What I did not explain was that he would not keep his distance from me. Even the countess eventually realized that I was not the corrupting influence she would have liked to believe. Her hold on him became increasingly tenuous, while I could find no respite from his presence. He followed me to London: just as he had to the Olmsteads' home."

South looked at her sharply. "You did not tell me he had followed you to the Olmsteads'."

"No, I didn't." India made no apology for it. Still lying on her side, she plumped the pillow under head and settled more deeply under the thick blankets. He had ice water in his veins, she thought, to be so unaffected by the bedchamber's persistent chill."Margrave visited the Olmsteads for several weeks while I was there. He managed the trip on the pretext of learning more about Mr. Olmstead's successful wool enterprise. It was Margrave playing at being a most progressive landlord and earl, yet his visit had but one true purpose: to see for himself how I was faring."

"What he saw," South said, his voice carefully neutral, "was Mr. Olmstead sniffing after your skirts."

India ignored that, though it was an accurate enough picture. "I acquitted myself rather well, considering my employer's single-minded pursuit. I thought I had made a successful show of proving that I could defend my honor. Still, Mr. Olmstead was not easily turned aside, and I had already determined that I must leave, when he was met with an accident."

South's dark brows knit. "What sort of accident?"

"A fall from his horse."

"Was Margrave still in residence?"

"Oh, yes. He was witness to Mr. Olmstead's fall." India did not have to say more. She saw the shadow of a frown cross South's face, and the almost imperceptible tightening of his lips. He was quickly putting his own construction on what had come to pass between Margrave and her former employer. "You are thinking I should have told you this before," she said.

"It is but one of my thoughts." There was a certain tightness in his voice that spoke of his frustration with her.

"Is this what you meant by stringing out the tale? All along youve dropped crumbs for me to follow, when you knew what was at stake. Kendall. Rutherford. Prinny. To what purpose, India? To extend the idyll? You cannot make me fall in love with you."

For a moment she could not breathe. She wondered if he heard the slight gasp that preceded it. She spoke carefully, each word measured. "I did not tell you, because I was not prepared to believe it myself. You were asking me to accept that the attempt on the Prince Regent's life had nothing to do with his politics or his suitability as our future king, and everything to do with his attentions to me. Perhaps you do not find it a fantastic idea, but I do. You made the same connection to Kendall, even though his work for the colonel places him at risk from other fronts. And you would have me agree it is the same with Mr. Rutherford, though he had amassed tremendous gambling debts that were as likely to lead him to a bad end. You even questioned my information about Lady Macquey-Howell and the Spanish consul."

"I asked if her life was in danger. You said that it was not." South glanced down at India and saw that her features sere not troubled, merely expressionless. "You have changed your mind."

She drew in her lower lip and nodded. "It is because of Mr. Olmstead," she said finally. "And what I have reluctantly come to believe is true about his fall from his horse."

"That it was no accident, you mean."

"Yes," she said. "Exactly that. I had never considered it before. Never once. Margrave could be cruel. I have always known that. I could accept that he might hurt someone if the mood were upon him, but murder? I could not imagine that. I think it was too painful to get my mind around. Perhaps it is because I must bear some of the responsibility. Part of the fault lies with me, you see."

"No, I don't. I have never thought that." .

India ignored him. "Mr. Olmstead was a bruising rider. I did not make that judgment myself. Margrave confided as much to me, and he would know. The day that Mr. Olmstead took his fall, Margrave had challenged him to a run across the fields. It was in aid of proving which of them had the better mount, but that is just a man's stratagem for proving who has the better seat. They marked a route that met their requirements for a spirited challenge and made their wagers. It was a stone fence that eliminated my employer from the race. Margrave cleared the jump and Mr. Olmstead did not."

India raised her eyes to South and found he was still watching her closely. "He might have broken his neck in the fall," she said. "The physician who set his broken legs said he was fortunate not to have done so."

"You know this all because you were a witness?"

She shook her head."I had it from Mrs. Olmstead," India said. "And she had it from her husband. It was odd, she told me, that he should lose his seat there. He had made the same jump hundreds of times with no mishap. She thought he and his mount could clear the fence in their sleep."

South understood why India had not given that day's mishap more than a cursory thought in all the years since. "Then Mr. Olmstead himself made no claim that it was anything but a bad bit of luck."

"That's right. I have no proof to say that it wasn't, but Margrave did not know I had already decided to leave Chipping Campden. If your suspicions are correct, then he may have been acting to make certain Mr. Olmstead could no longerhow did you so eloquently put it?oh, yes, sniff after my skirts."

The line of South's lips tightened a fraction at her needling. Knowing that he deserved the barb was not the same as liking it. "It seems you have gotten your mind around the problem now."

India's accents were clipped. "Yes. I have."

"What else do I need to know?" he asked, rising from the bed. He padded to the armoire, removed his dressing gown, and shrugged into it. "You mentioned Lady Macquey-Howell earlier."

Nodding, India turned on her side to face him. "I cannot say with certainty, but if I follow your logic, then it is possible her life may be forfeit."

"At Margrave's hand?"

"Yes."

South belted his robe, frowning. "Why would his mark not be Señor Cruz?"

"The Spanish consul has never been my admirer," she said frankly. "Lady Macquey-Howell has."

"I see," he said. And this time he did. "Margrave knows?"

"I think so. There is not much that escapes his notice. She often sent me letters. They were most effusive. I only replied once, in response to her first overture. I was firm, but not unkind."

South turned to the fireplace. He picked up the poker and prodded the logs. When the flames began to crackle and lick at the wood, he added more. "You met with her?"

"Before the letters began she came to my dressing room on several occasions. She was escorted each time by her husband, but it was clear to me at the outset who harbored the real interest."