How to Beguile a Beauty (23 page)

“I want to make love to every inch of you, kiss you everywhere, taste all of you,” he said quietly. “Touch you, see you, watch your beautiful face as I slowly sink into you. I want to feel each move you make beneath me. Your heat enveloping me, pulsing all around me,
taking me in. Giving you my seed, growing our life together. I had no life until you, Lydia. I was only alive. And I didn't know the difference…”

His words, his intense eyes, his intimate touch, all had their combined effect on her, and on her body. As he spoke, he had begun slipping his fingers inside her, and her passions had risen once more.

She strained against his hand, her eyes never leaving his face as he seemed to find her very center, rubbing his thumb over her, robbing her of breath, all of her feeling concentrated on the blossoming sensations that grew, and then grew again.

“Tanner…”

But she couldn't say more. The words that would tell him how she felt had not been invented. She could only whimper wordlessly, try to breathe without moving. It was impossible to keep her eyes open, and when she closed them, rainbows of light danced against her eyelids as she arched her neck backward, her entire body a bow, bending to his will.
Never stop, never stop, never stop…

She moaned as he seemed to move away from her, but then he was back, still with his fingers deep inside her. But now there was heat, hot and wet, closing all around her. The strokes against her aching flesh became faster. Nearly unbearable in their sweetness.

She felt herself being drawn into the warmth, felt the gentle tug and release, the sensation of soft breath against her heated skin.

And then she knew.
I want to make love to every inch of you, kiss you everywhere, taste all of you.

She hadn't known. Couldn't have imagined. She'd been too swamped with feeling, floating on a cloud of sensation. But it was right. It felt so right.

And she
needed,
so much.

The more Tanner suckled on her, the more she sensed that he was taking her somewhere she had never been, yet longed to travel to with him. She could no more be passive than she could stop breathing.

Pressing her heels against the earth, she lifted herself to him, began to move in concert with him, sealing herself against him as his tongue searched her, found the center of her yearning, a white hot center that begged for his touch and then rewarded them both by gathering up all of the sensation in the world and releasing it in rhythmic explosions.

Even before she could realize that she was flying, soaring, Tanner covered her, plunged inside her, so that her body convulsed around him, drawing the seed from him, taking it deep into her womb.

Planting the seed that would grow from their love…

T
ANNER SMILED AS HE SET
Lydia's silly, veiled hat on her head at a slightly more rakish angle than she had done, and then handed her the pins to secure it in place.

They'd had the devil of a time finding those pins—needles in the haystack of the long grasses they'd flattened beneath their bodies not that long ago.

“I'm sure that can't be right,” she said as she secured the last pin.

“I like it,” he told her, touching the tip of her nose with his fingertip. “I like that, and I like this…” he drew his finger across her bottom lip, swollen from his kisses. “And I like this,” he pursued, running his finger down her throat, to the small hollow at the base of it, where he could watch her heart beating.

“They'll be sending out a search party soon, Tanner,” she said reasonably, “sure one of us has fallen from our horse and the other is afraid to leave him.”

“Him? Then I've been cast in the role of the unhorsed?”

She reached to stroke his cheek. “Oh, yes. I'm much too careful to ever fall. I hold your love, and I promise always to be careful to protect it. I only ask that you do the same.”

He turned his face into her palm. “Always. I know what I want now. Your love, and Malvern, and our life together. A quiet life, filled with love.”

She smiled. “And if another great man came along with another bold and glorious cause born of ambition?”

“Another Alexander? Another Bonaparte? No, Lydia, I've fought enough battles. I'll protect my own, you know that. But I've no more need to search for glory. Not when it stands in front of me.”

“I love you, Tanner. No one has ever loved anyone more than I love you,” she whispered, and he realized she hadn't said that before now. He knew she loved him. Of course he knew that. But hearing her say the words shook him.

He nodded, emotion tightening his chest. “Charlotte wanted us to wed at Ashurst, but that might take some of the bloom from Nicole and Lucas.”

She nodded, her easy acceptance of what had been his rather abrupt proposal just like her. Lydia, the calm. Lydia, the practical. Lydia…the fire in his arms.

“That is true. Two weddings, and with a baby perhaps arriving in the middle of all that ceremony? It is quite a lot all at once. And you and Charlotte and Rafe have already planned all of this between you?”

Lydia was never flustered, so he couldn't tell if his words had pleased her or upset her. “I wouldn't say
planned.
Discussed? Still, if it's all right you, we'll marry here quietly, in the Malvern chapel, and then travel to Ashurst to watch your sister arrive at the church on horseback or whatever it is she's planning.”

“On horseback, yes. With a gaggle of little girls dressed in long white dresses and streamers in their hair tossing rose petals in front of her.”

God. Was he being selfish? Denying Lydia all the pomp and ceremony? “If you want—”

“No, thank you. I'm much more interested in being your wife than I am in being a bride.”

Tanner relaxed. “After gaining Rafe's blessing, I managed to secure a Special License before we left London. Being a duke does have its influence. We…we could be married as early as tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“I know, I'm rushing you. But I don't think I can wait a day longer.”

Her sweet smile banished his fears, while the hint of mischief in her lovely blue eyes reminded him that she was not without spirit. She put a hand to his jacket and then held up a bit of grass they'd missed while brushing off their clothes. “I don't think we've
waited
all that much.”

His smile grew into a wide grin. “True. And after tonight, we'll never be apart again. Why, you may even grow sick of me.”

“Yes, I probably will,” she agreed, the corners of her lovely mouth twitching as she suppressed another smile. “In fifty or sixty years.”

“I'll hold you to that.” He took her hand and led her over to Daisy, and then cupped his hands for her to use them as a sort of mounting block as he lightly tossed her up and into the saddle.

He mounted his own horse, debated for a moment asking Lydia to ride the rest of the way across country, up and over the hill they'd crested on foot, and then down toward Malvern, but in the end he thought it would be best if they kept the lane.

She hadn't complained, but he knew she must be at least slightly sore from his lovemaking. As soon as they arrived he would order a hip bath brought to her chamber.

He led the way, for the lane was really not much more than a track worn into the hillside. They descended slowly, the lane switching back on itself several times, sometimes taking them through a canopy of trees, sometimes giving them new, closer views of Malvern.

As they neared the newly scythed expanse of lawn, once again shaded beneath a canopy of trees, his mount began to sidestep nervously, snorting through its nose as if it had perhaps caught a scent. “Anxious, are you? Almost home, boy,” he said, patting the horse's neck. But the stallion continued to dance, jerking against the bit in its mouth.

Instantly worried for Lydia, Tanner looked about in the underbrush, half expecting to see the tusks of a wild boar, even though there hadn't been one seen in the area for years, thanks to the careful husbandry of his foresters.

But what he saw wasn't a boar ready to charge. What he saw didn't move at all. In the space of a heartbeat he considered pretending he hadn't seen what he'd seen, urging Lydia ahead of him as he kept his mount
between the trees and the path, and then discarded both ideas as she called to him.

“Is something wrong, Tanner? Your horse seems agitated.”

He turned his mount and blocked the path. “I think there's been an accident,” he told her, dismounting. “Someone's lying just off there, in the underbrush. Please, stay where you are.”

“Is it Justin?” Lydia asked, worry evident in her voice. “He came this way, didn't he?”

Tanner had already dismounted, and tied the reins to a branch to keep his mount from bolting. “No, it's not Justin. I would have recognized his clothing even at a distance.”

“Wait, let me come with you.”

He shook his head. “No. Whoever it is—he's not moving.”

“Oh, God.” Lydia closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them again, she nodded. “I'll do as you say. Please hurry.”

But there was no reason for hurry, Tanner realized after only taking a few steps into the undergrowth to see Thomas Harburton, his eyes wide open and staring at nothing. He was lying on his back amid weeds turned dark with his life's blood, his throat neatly sliced from ear to ear. No wonder his mount had gotten so agitated; it had been the smell of all this blood.

“Tanner? Who is it? Shall I ride for help?”

Tanner stood his ground, keeping himself in between the body and the path. “It's uh, it's one of my workers.
He's beyond our help, Lydia, but please ride and tell Justin to come up here.”

“Justin? Tanner, what's going on? Why would you ask Justin to come up here?”

“Lydia, please. Just do as I say. And don't speak of this with anyone but him.”

“But I—but—very well. I hate leaving you. Will you be all right?”

“I'll be fine. We'll be fine,” he said quietly, knowing he had just lied to her. “Just fine.”

Only as he heard the sound of Daisy moving past him on the lane did Tanner drop onto his haunches to take a closer look at the body of his cousin. He'd seen many bodies on the battlefield, too many. Bodies with no legs, no heads, pieces of bodies, and bodies that looked untouched save for a small black hole marring a jacket or a temple.

But, somehow, this was different. Thomas Harburton held no saber in one dead hand. No spent rifle laid beside him. He'd been defenseless when his attacker had robbed him of his life.

He'd died here, not elsewhere. The amount of blood told that story well enough. But what had he been doing here? The path may exist because it had been used for generations of walkers drawn by the hills, but Thomas was never a walker. He was too bulky, for one thing, and his old injury didn't allow for recreational jaunts around the countryside on foot.

At the same time, Thomas did not like to ride. He traveled the estate in a pony cart Tanner's father had
provided for him, and this path wasn't wide enough for a cart.

No, if Thomas had come to this spot, he'd come for a reason. To meet someone. Someone he trusted, or else there would be a weapon somewhere.

He'd come here, and he'd waited for the person he was to meet.

Tanner got to his feet and walked the perimeter of the small clearing amid the trees, looking at Thomas, judging distances, and then walking toward one particular tree. Yes, the weeds behind the tree were bent down, as if someone had stood there.

He saw all the signs of an ambush.

Hiding from sight, waiting, only to jump out when Thomas arrived, taking the man by surprise. Grabbing the man from behind, imprisoning him against his chest with one arm as he pulled him backwards, away from the path and into the trees. As he lifted his knife and drew it deeply across the man's exposed throat, then allowed the body to drop where it was, pumping blood onto the ground with each beat of Thomas's dying heart.

“Cowardly bastard,” Tanner swore softly. He'd no great love for his cousin, but nobody deserved to die this way.

The sound of hoofbeats on the path brought Tanner back to attention and he stepped onto the path just as Justin was gracefully swinging his leg up and over his mount's rump as he dismounted.

“Lydia says someone is dead,” he said as he looped his mount's reins around a branch of the same tree
where Tanner had secured his own horse. “And not of old age, not from the look on your face. Who is it?”

“My cousin Thomas,” Tanner said with a wave of his arm toward the body lying about ten feet off the path. “Someone sliced his throat from behind.”

Justin shot the cuffs on his jacket as he moved to inspect the body, stopping a good five feet from the soles of Thomas' boots. “Messy,” he said without inflection. “But, then, murder is rarely neat. I rode almost entirely across country, or I could have spared Lydia this. I'm sorry. How long do you suppose he's been here?”

“I don't know,” Tanner said, joining him. “I would imagine he arrived at Malvern last night. He said it was so we could be sure of our welcome.”

“Ah, yes, I can see that. Welcome home, Tanner,” Justin said. “Well, shall we?”

Justin didn't have to explain. Nor did Tanner. Together, they approached the body, Tanner on the left, Justin on the right.

“I don't suppose you want to take a peek in his eyes,” Justin said, going down on his haunches, careful to keep his coattails from touching the ground. “Did you know that some say if you look into a dead man's eyes, you'll see the last thing he saw? I don't put much faith in that, myself.”

Tanner lifted Thomas' right arm. “He's cold, and his limb moves fairly easily. He may have been out here since last night, or very early this morning.”

“Well, that's good. I do hate it when they don't bend, don't you?”

“Justin, for the love of God…”

“I'm being gruesome? My apologies. Let me have a go at his pockets.” He carefully unbuttoned Thomas's jacket and reached inside, somehow managing not to come in contact with any of the stiffened, blood-soaked cloth.

Tanner could see the pocket watch Thomas always wore. Moments later, Justin held the man's small purse in his palm, hefting it. They both heard the jingle of coins inside it.

“Not robbery,” Justin said unnecessarily, continuing his search of the body. He performed the moves as a man who'd had practice in such things, something that would have surprised most anyone who knew him by reputation only. “I remember this fellow I came across in Toulouse a week or so before Wellington's victory,” he said conversationally as he worked. “Bloody battle, and a bloody waste, since Boney had abdicated four days earlier, but you know that. At any rate, the fellow was known to have been carrying a message to the Emperor, but nobody else seemed able to locate it on the body, so he was turned over to me. Clever thing, the slim metal cylinder he'd secreted up his—ah, and what have we here?”

Tanner watched as Justin raised a velvet pouch by the strings that secured the opening.

They both got to their feet and walked some steps away from the body before Justin handed over the pouch. Tanner pulled open the strings and dumped the contents onto his palm.

“Smallish stones, but quite lovely. I've always had a fondness for diamonds set around sapphires,” Justin said as the necklace glittered in the sunlight. “Apparently, so did your cousin. Although I doubt they would have flattered him.”

“What was he doing with them, Justin? Stealing them? Returning them? Was he here to meet with some coconspirator? And if he did come here to meet someone, why didn't that someone at least take away the necklace? Are the jewels real, or are they paste?”

“So many questions spring to mind, I agree. I'm afraid I can only help you with that last part, and not until we get back to the house. Lydia is waiting for you.”

The mention of her name turned Tanner's attention away from the jewels in his hand, the body lying on the ground behind him and the trouble that had come to Malvern thanks to both of those things. “I promised her…”

“Promised her what, my friend?” Justin asked as they mounted their horses and headed toward Malvern.

“Never mind,” Tanner said, knowing he could never explain, as the quiet, uneventful life he and Lydia envisioned spending together would bore his friend to flinders within a week. “Jasmine isn't going to take this well. Thomas was her only living relative, save me, and some distant maternal aunt somewhere in the wilds of Wales. She runs a charity school for wayward females, or some such thing.”