Nothing to Commend Her (20 page)

"So sweet,” he growled. “So perfect."

Her fingers slid into his hair and held him to the task as he continued his assault. On a moan, she breathed his name, and lost herself in the heady sensations.

Bit by bit, he made his way back to her mouth and pressed his lips to hers, stealing what little breath she still possessed.

"You should sleep,” he whispered against her lips.

"I'd rather you kiss me some more, and—other things,” she said, hating the pout in her voice, but she so wanted his touch, his everything, if only she could have him.

He chuckled low and rich. “Enjoyed that, did you?"

She giggled. “You know I did. But Magnus, is it hard for you? Do you mind—"

"I am more than happy to kiss you and
other
things,” he said, nipping at her lips, while his hands stole over her body.

Agatha sighed with a smile on her face, although she felt guilty for enjoying such pleasure.

The lawn party was a success, and Agatha couldn't help but feel a ridiculous sense of pride. Her lack of experience had not proven to be a hindrance at all.

The guests moved to the area of the garden where she'd had archery targets set up. She detested croquet, and was pleased the group thought her idea delightful. Of course, with Lady Crittenden's unflappable support and a carefully placed word here and there, she doubted any of them would say a word against her.

"I've little experience with archery, Lord Crittenden. Would you be so kind as to instruct me?” Miss Templeton asked.

"Of course."

Agatha hid her grin at George's quiet oath amid his forced smile, but it would pull his attention away from Miss Reynolds. His mother had not missed a single moment of his abject attentions toward her, but managed to hold her tongue on the subject. She was trying very hard. Or so it seemed.

"And what of you, darling? Shall I instruct you?” her husband asked.

"And what makes you think I need instruction?"

"I don't,” he said, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. “I only wish an excuse to put my arms around you in public.” He nodded toward George where he stood behind Miss Templeton.

The night had been glorious. He'd held her, caressed her, kissed her for long luxurious hours, but he'd not disrobed, nor had he removed her chemise. She wondered, as she had many times, if going any further in their intimacy would be painful or uncomfortable for him. Or was he merely continuing to hide his scars? Whatever his reasons, she would be patient, but she would learn the answer eventually.

"I think then, my lord, you should do your best to show me exactly how it's done,” she said.

With a smile, he guided her to a set of arrows and a bow.

"You take the bow like this,” he said, and adjusted her grip around the handle. “Then you hold the arrow like this, the nock against the string, using three fingers."

She felt like a puppet as he adjusted her grip. Although she was somewhat skilled in archery, she couldn't seem to make her body obey her. With his arms around her, his broad chest against her back, his hands atop hers, and his lips, ever so close to her ear, all she could do was let him guide her.

"You're trembling,” he whispered.

She swallowed hard. “I can't help it."

"If you'd rather I didn't—"

"No.” She twisted her head on a breath, their mouths scant inches apart.

His gaze warmed. “Have you any idea how lovely you are?"

"You—you don't have to say such things to me, Magnus."

He peered deep into her eyes, his voice low. “A man does not desire a woman he thinks unattractive."

"But—"

"I thought you lovely the first time I saw you,” he whispered.

She shook her head faintly, words having failed her.

"And every day you grow lovelier still.” His gaze dropped to her lips. “And if we didn't have a lawn filled with nosy, gossiping guests, I'd kiss you right now and prove just how beautiful you are."

She lowered her bow and arrow, almost having forgotten she even held them. “Will you prove it to me later?"

"You may count on it, madam.” He grinned as he set her away from him. “Now, let us see how well you shoot."

Smiling wide, she turned, took aim, and let the arrow fly. Not a clean shot, as her hands were still trembling and her heart still pounding, but she hit the target.

"You never cease to amaze me,” he said.

"I shall take that as a compliment,” she said, and placed the bow aside so that one of the other guests could have a go.

"It was meant as one."

Stepping back, she slipped her hand in the crook of his arm and watched the others. She giggled at the sight of poor George having to assist yet another lady.

He shot her a scowl, and she hastily wiped the grin from her face and glanced at the others.

Lady Crittenden looked on approvingly as George did his duty, and the other ladies were all green, save Katherine, as he worked with Miss Barrington. Her shot went a bit wild, but was followed by another from Katherine, who was quite skilled.

"Nicely done!” George applauded, a bit too loud, but she had hit the mark squarely.

Magnus chuckled. “He's not helping matters, is he?"

"I'm afraid not, but you have to admit that Lady Crittenden is doing rather well."

Magnus nodded as they watched Miss Templeton move to stand between George and Katherine, a look on her face of pure determination. Apparently the other ladies who'd accompanied Lady Crittenden had decided to step aside, as it appeared that Miss Barrington and Miss Templeton were friends as well as serious rivals, while poor George was the prize.

The two ladies flanked Lord Crittenden and began making subtle yet snide comments to one another while ignoring Miss Reynolds all together.

Her friend cast Agatha a humorous glance.

"I see she is more like you than I'd thought,” Magnus said lowly.

"What do you mean?"

He leaned close, as they watched the scene play out before them. “She is sensible and beautiful."

His lips brushed her skin at the temple, and she let out a soft sigh, thrilled that he wished to fill her head with sweet compliments. But her grin fell soon after.

Did he say such things because he thought she needed to hear them or because he actually believed them?

She was plain, nothing special, but he seemed to think otherwise—or did he?

"Beg pardon, my lord,” Barstoke said, standing off to the side.

"Excuse me,” he said, and stepped away.

Agatha watched as Barstoke and Magnus moved to the far side of the lawn and spoke in fervent whispers. It made her skin crawl. Had something happened? Had they found a stranger lurking on the grounds? Had one of the servants been attacked?

She stepped toward them, determined to be included, it was her life, after all, but halfway across the grass she paused when George shouted something. As she turned to see what he was going on about, assuming it had to do with Misses Templeton and Barrington, she felt something sting her arm.

"No!” Magnus yelled.

She reached up to touch the spot on her arm and noticed her dress was torn and blood oozed from an ugly gash. Staring at the blood on her hand, her head swam.

"I will not faint,” she whispered. It was so undignified, and really what was the purpose? But she'd never faired well at the sight of blood. Still, she held to her resolve, praying the wooziness would subside.

"Agatha!” Magnus swept her up into his arms and rushed across the lawn into the house.

"I'm all right. I think."

"Hush, darling, don't talk.” He laid her on a settee then shouted for bandages and a doctor.

She heard their guests talking around her, one or more of the younger ladies crying, and someone saying something about their fault.

"Ladies and gentlemen, if you'd kindly leave the room,” Katherine said. “I'm sure Lady Leighton will be fine. It doesn't appear to be too serious."

Agatha blinked a time or two, noting the burn in her arm. It helped cleared her head. Magnus hovered over her, his face pale as he tied a cloth about her arm. She covered his trembling hand with hers, and he closed his eyes a moment and took several deep breaths.

"Is there anything I can get you, Agatha?” Katherine asked.

"No, I'll be quite all right, thank you."

"This is my fault,” George snapped. “Or rather, those conniving females. Bloody raving lunatics, the lot of them."

"It was an accident.” Or so Agatha hoped. She couldn't see either Miss Templeton or Miss Barrington as a murderess.

"You could have been killed,” he ground out.

"Yes, well, that does seem to be the theme of this house party,” she said.

Magnus lifted his head and speared her with a look. “This is not a joking matter."

She sighed. “You're right, but I am growing rather weary of it all."

"Agatha, that is far too cryptic to let alone,” Katherine said.

"It is nothing that concerns you,” George said, taking her by the arm and escorting her to the door.

"Too late, my lord. I am concerned and I am involved. Now, either you remove your hand, or you shall discover what a girl can learn from five brothers."

The look on George's face brought a smile to Agatha's lips as well as a laugh. “I would listen to her, my lord. We don't need another wound to tend to."

Magnus stood with a sigh, Agatha's hand firmly encased in his. “Let her remain. She may be able to help."

Her head tilted at an inquisitive angle, she strolled back to the center of the room. “And I shall, once I learn the details."

"This is bloody madness,” George sputtered and moved to the liquor cabinet in the corner where he poured, then downed a good deal of brandy.

Katherine rolled her eyes and took a seat across from where Agatha lay. “Begin at the beginning."

Agatha moved to rise, but Magnus was there in a blink.

"Stay still,” he ordered.

"I'd like to sit up, if you please."

"I do not please, and you will lie still until the doctor has had a look at you."

"I don't need a doctor. Katherine will you have a look at it and tell him I'm fine?"

Her friend rose, brushed past her husband, and lifted the edge of the rapping.

"I realize you're a scientist, Miss Reynolds, but your word won't sway me in this matter,” Magnus said.

"I also happen to have had some training in the medical field. I'd wanted to be a doctor, until I realized my true calling was in chemistry,” she said, looking beneath the rapping.

"Good Lord,” George sputtered.

"But I assure you, if she requires medical attention, I will not lie,” Katherine said.

With a muttered oath, Agatha waited for the verdict.

Katherine smiled and gave her a slight wink as she settled beside her on the edge of the settee. “You could do with a stitch or two, but if you don't use your arm for a time, a tight wrapping should suffice."

Magnus let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. The doctor would arrive shortly, Barstoke would've seen to it, and he would look at his wife's wound regardless, but he felt a sense of relief with Miss Reynolds’ opinion.

"I still say she should see a physician,” George grumbled.

"Thank you for that vote of confidence,” Miss Reynolds replied snidely.

"You just admitted to having only
some
training."

"And you admitted that the entire incident was
your
fault. If you'd paid better attention to those two silly girls—"

"I was paying attention to you!"

Miss Reynolds fell silent, her mouth a wordless ‘oh'.

"Please, it was no one's fault,” Agatha said. “It was an accident."

"Perhaps, Miss Reynolds, if you would take a seat, I shall do my best to explain the situation,” Magnus said.

Agatha smiled up at him, and he took her hand in his, then began to tell what had occurred over the last few days. It astonished even him, as he spoke.

"My goodness,” Miss Reynolds said when he'd finished, but he could see her mind working on the puzzle. “That leaves quite a list of suspects."

"I would rule out both Miss Templeton and Miss Barrington,” Crittenden said.

"Agreed,” Agatha replied. “They didn't have their come-out until two years ago."

"So they could not have any connection to me,” Magnus said.

"I think it truly was an accident,” Miss Reynolds said, then looked at Crittenden. “Unless it wasn't one of their arrows that did the deed."

"I—” Crittenden looked to the floor then out the window, a pensive frown on his face. “I don't know.” He looked at Magnus. “I honestly cannot say if it was or not."

"But one of them or both them were crying, were they not?” Agatha asked.

Magnus squeezed her hand. “I'm afraid several ladies were, darling."

There was a knock at the door, then Barstoke entered. “The doctor, my lord."

"Oh, bother,” Agatha grumbled.

With a weary chuckle, Magnus told him to let the man in.

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Magnus climbed the stairs relieved the evening was over. He'd endured all he cared to of his guests, even his old school chum's presence was wearing thin. He wanted to be with his wife, safe and alone, but knew it would be a time, perhaps a long time before that was possible.

Agatha had spent the remainder of the day tucked away in her rooms with Miss Reynolds by her side, while he was forced to return to his unwanted guests. He'd wanted nothing more than to say with her, but knew his presence was required elsewhere.

All afternoon and into the evening hours he'd looked at each face, wondering who among them wanted him to suffer, who wanted his wife dead?

Lady Crittenden had fussed over him, visited Agatha in her rooms several times, and apologized for barging into his home. She announced that they would all be leaving come morning.

Too little too late
, he thought.

As to the Misses Templeton and Barrington, one more apology accompanied with tears, and he'd go mad. There was little doubt as to the incident now. The ladies admitted, repeatedly, that it was their fault, which left him wondering if the murderess was among the guests after all.