He trembled. d.a.m.n Trevor.

She turned then to look up at him. The half-smile froze on her face but she didnat look away. She simply stared at him, unconsciously taking a step toward him. Marcus cursed.

Trevor, eyeing the two of them, quickly mounted Clancy and dug his heels in the stallionas sides. He called out over his shoulder, aTake care not to fall off a cliff.a Marcus cursed again and helped her to mount Birdie. aJust wait,a he said. aJust wait.a She said slowly, not looking away from his blue eyes that were glittering brighter than the summer sky overhead, aIave a mind to find that treasure, Marcus.a aWhich treasure?a he said, his eyes on her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

17.

MARCUS SAID ABSOLUTELY nothing throughout the two-hour ride back to Chase Park, staring straight ahead between Stanleyas ears. She didnat look at him either, but her thoughts were of him, all of him and what he was thinking, what he wanted, what he would do to her. She spurred Birdie to a faster pace.

When they reached the Chase stables, he nearly jerked her off Birdieas back, grabbed her hand, and said low, aCome on. Now.a He grabbed her hand and nearly ran to the stables, kicked open the door to one of the tack rooms, then slammed it shut again with the heel of his boot. There was a key in the door and he turned it, still not releasing her right hand.

She had never imagined that a man could be so very urgent in the middle of the day. And here they were, not five minutes from his bedchamber and his bed. Head waited two hours, but no longer? It was fascinating. Maybe this had something to do with that beyond business.

She devoutly hoped so. Suddenly, she was doing more than hoping.

aNow,a he said, turning to face her. He pulled on her hand, bringing her against him. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes narrowed, focused entirely on her. aHurry, d.u.c.h.ess.a She was pressed to his chest, feeling the deep pounding of his heart. She closed her eyes, those two simple words of his roiling through her. aWhat do you want me to do?a She was whispering, feeling suddenly so urgent she could barely talk. She flattened her hands against his chest, felt the pounding of his heart beneath her palm, and rose on her tiptoes. aMarcus, tell me what you want me to do.a He stared down at her, his look intent. aJust be you. I want to see if you will moan for me again, if you will scream and nearly buck me off you. I want to see if you will become frantic for me again.a She felt his large hands pulling open her riding jacket. He was holding his breath, she realized, when suddenly his hands cupped her b.r.e.a.s.t.s through the thin white lawn of her blouse. He closed his eyes, throwing his head back as he kneaded her through the soft material.

aMarcus,a she said again. He hugged her to him. He pulled off her jaunty riding hat, then tugged the pins from her hair. aAh,a he said, and kissed her ear, blowing tendrils of hair from his mouth, his breath warm against her flesh, his fingers tangling in her hair.

aDo you want me, d.u.c.h.ess?a She pulled him more tightly against her. She let her hands go down his back to his flanks. aI think thatas quite the stupidest thing youave ever said.a He had to grin at that, but it was difficult. He had her undressed and flat on her back in a matter of moments. He stood over her, pulling off his boots and his buckskin trousers, looking at her face all the while he jerked off his clothes, and she lay there on her back, her riding clothes spread out beneath her, watching him, excitement rippling through her as he removed each piece of clothing. When he tossed his trousers aside and stood over her, his legs slightly spread, his s.e.x free of his clothes, full and heavy, she said, aPlease hurry, Marcus.a She stretched out her arms to him, her eyes darkening. aOh goodness, youare more beautiful than your stallion.a He c.o.c.ked an eyebrow at that and came down on his knees beside her. aStanley would hurt a mare when he took her. I would never hurt you. And I wonat hurry, d.u.c.h.ess, at least Iall try my d.a.m.nedest not to.a He leaned down as he spoke and his last words were a whisper against her breast.

She cried out, arching up against his mouth.

aEasy,a he said, pushing her back, his hand flat on her belly. aEasy. It will be all right. Just be open for me, d.u.c.h.ess. Just open.a He wanted her mouth immediately and she gave him her warmth as she parted her lips and he touched her tongue. She arched again and she felt him trembling against her, his hand now moving from her b.r.e.a.s.t.s to her belly, kneading her, spanning her with splayed fingers, gently caressing her pelvic bones, then going lower, circling her, lightly touching the warm flesh of her thighs, then finally cupping her, his fingers caressing and so very gentle until he found her and began to move in a rhythm that made her forget everything but him and those fingers of his and his mouth on hers and the heat of him as he moved over her. This time, though, his mouth never left hers, and it was his fingers that brought her to a tension that threatened to shatter her, so intense it was. And just at that instant when she knew, just knew there could be no more for her, he came into her, hard and deep, and her body exploded into blazing light, sparking a pleasure so strong, so urgent, she screamed, her hands clutching at his arms, at his back. It was too much.

He was driving into her, drawing her upward to meet him again, when she managed to look up into his face, harsh in the dim light of the tack room, his eyes glazed, and suddenly, it seemed that he was in immense pain. His jaw was locked, his cheeks flushed, the flesh taut over his bones. He grew still. She could feel him deep inside her, heavy, jerking slightly. Then, in the next instant, he wrenched away from her, heaving, groaning as if he were in pain, cursing, his hands digging into her hips to support himself, and she didnat understand, couldnat begin to realize what he was doing until she felt the wet of his seed on her belly, felt him jerking over her until finally, he was on his knees between her legs, his head bowed, his eyes closed, his breathing ragged.

She said nothing, merely stared at him, the pleasure from such a short time before now as cold as ashes on a summer grate. She felt nothing but a vast emptiness that would consume her, she knew it as certainly as she now understood him and what he had planned the previous night but had failed to carry out.

She saw his seed on her belly. She held perfectly still. If she remained perfectly still, said naught, not a single word, maybe the pain would diminish, maybe he would say something that wouldnat tear her apart.

He rose, standing naked over her. aIall get my handkerchief.a She closed her eyes and turned onto her side, drawing her legs up. She didnat care that she was naked, that he would look at her, it just didnat matter. She felt him coming back down on his knees, felt his hands on her shoulder and hip, turning her back to him. She felt the handkerchief wiping his seed from her.

aDonat you dare cry, d.u.c.h.ess,a he said low, his face bending close to her head. aDonat you dare weep your d.a.m.ned womanas tears and say that I abused you, that you didnat gain pleasure from me. You had great pleasure if your screams were any measure, and believe me, they were. I didnat cheat you out of anything save my seed, but you know I intended to do that. If you didnat understand what I meant, you do now. I told you that you wonat bear any child of mine to follow in that b.a.s.t.a.r.das footsteps. It is done. Get up now and get dressed.a He tossed the handkerchief beside her on her riding skirt. She watched him as he dressed, his movements as graceful as they always were, oblivious of her now, as if she had been naught but a receptacle for his manas l.u.s.t, and since he was through with her, why bother then regarding her anymore. Then she saw his hands, hard and large, yet when they touched her, they . . . she closed her eyes. He was in full control, both of himself and of her. She had no control at all, indeed, at that moment, she had nothing.

Slowly, she sat up, drawing her now wrinkled chemise over her head. She stared at a beautiful Spanish saddle as she said, aBadger is preparing dinner himself tonight.a Marcus eyed her with some surprise. He shouldnat be surprised, he thought, no tears for the d.u.c.h.ess, no sign of anything, except when she wanted him to pleasure her. No, no sign of anything because emotion was too messy, it would reduce her in her own eyes to show anyone anything save her immense calm, that d.a.m.nable aloofness of hers. He said, aWhat is he preparing?a aRoasted lamb with apricot sauce. He says it takes too long a time to hash a shoulder of mutton properly so instead he has marinated the mutton all day.a Marcus grunted as he pulled on his coat. He walked to a chair, sat down, and pulled on his boots.

aHe is also making a cherry and almond cake. It was always one of my motheras favorites. And ca.s.sia biscuits. They have castor sugar and currants in them.a He rose then and looked down at her sitting cross-legged on her riding skirt, his damp wadded-up handkerchief beside her, her chemise pulled over her head to fall only to her thighs, those white legs of hers so beautifully shaped. Her hair was tumbled about her head. She looked so lovely and yet so desperate in her calmness, he felt a stab of alarm. He shook his head. No, not the d.u.c.h.ess, she wouldnat feel anything that would interfere with the smoothness of her breath, save when he took her and stroked her. And that gave him power over her. That pleased him. He could shatter her calm in those precious minutes. He took a step toward her, then stopped suddenly, frowning. aDo you not think it a bit odd to speak about Badgeras recipes so soon after having s.e.x with me?a aWould you prefer that I said nothing?a aIt is what you usually say. Holding cold and detached is your specialty. It is what I expected.a aI spoke about food to break the silence, to give you background noise while you dressed again. Would you rather I had spoken of something else?a aYes. Of me and what I did to you, of what I gave to you. Of yourself, and what I will teach you to do to me. Right now you are taking, d.u.c.h.ess, naught but taking. Are you willing to give as well?a She looked beyond his right shoulder. aDo you know how pippins and plums are candied?a aNo, I donat know.a aYou mustnat forget that a good cook, which Badger is, also knows how to use foods to prepare remedies for illnesses.a He hunkered down beside her. He took her chin in his palm. aShut up.a She became still as a stone.

He kissed her, forcing her mouth open, but he didnat savage her, no, not at all. She felt his tongue gently come into her mouth, lightly touching hers, demanding nothing. She closed her eyes, forcing herself to ignore the burgeoning warmth deep in her belly. It was humiliating, that d.a.m.ned warmth that he drew so effortlessly from her.

Then he was gone, rising to stand over her. aDress yourself. I imagine that all our stable lads know exactly what weave been doing. Come, Iall help you. There is straw in your hair. I suppose I should take that handkerchief. It smells of me and of you and I wouldnat want to make you remember that you are as wild as a mare when a stallion comes over her.a Suddenly, something else shattered deep inside her, broke wide apart, and rage such as shead never felt in her nineteen years poured through her. She knew it was rage even though shead never recognized it within herself before. Ah, yes, she knew, and she let it feed on itself, let it grow stronger and stronger still. She could feel the rage pounding in every part of her body, unleashing itself in her, pushing her and pushing harder and harder.

The stillness, the hard-won calm and serenity shead shown to the world since that long-ago day when shead heard the upstairs maid tell the Tweenie that she was a b.a.s.t.a.r.d flared bright and hot in her mind. She could see the two of them, hear their voices talking about her. She saw herself, small and so very frightened, so utterly alone in this huge mansion, seeking out her fatheras wife, knowing she would tell her the truth, just not realizing the depths of the countessas hatred of her, of her very existence. It was more than just hatred, it was vile and cold and contemptuous, what the countess of Chase felt for her, a nine-year-old girl whoad just found out she was a b.a.s.t.a.r.d. It spewed over her, drowning her in it and she hadnat been able to bear it.

And then Marcus had named her the d.u.c.h.ess and all that calm, that stillness, that haughty reserve that others applauded in her, indeed poured approval upon her because of it, seeped into her very soul. And she nurtured it as she would a precious rose in her motheras garden, until it was, quite simply, natural. It became her, and she a reflection of it; she was it. She became the d.u.c.h.ess.

Until now. The rage bubbled and flamed. She was stripped, everything in her naked and hard and cold and eager for violence. She stared at him, letting her rage at what head done to her continue to build.

She rose slowly to her feet, smoothing down her wrinkled, soiled chemise. She saw that her hands were shaking, but not with timidity, but with the cleansing sweet anger. And it was sweet, that rage that shead buried deep as her very soul so many years before. She watched him as he walked back to his chair and sat down. He crossed his legs and his arms over his chest.

aDress,a he said. aYou might try some feminine wiles on me, Iad like to see if you have talent for it. You donat understand, d.u.c.h.ess? Well, dress slowly, tease me with a toss of your head, raise your b.r.e.a.s.t.s, perhaps show me some cleavage, move your hips in a seductive way. Are you capable of such a thing? I wonder.a She just stared at him, this man to whom shead given herself, this man shead saved, truth be told, she had saved him, saved the future of the Wyndham line, and he was a tyrant, a fool, a savage who had humiliated her more than shead believed one human being could humiliate another. Head withdrawn from her because of his hatred of her father. Head treated her like nothing more than a vessel for his l.u.s.t and even that he hadnat allowed. He scorned her womb because it represented a tie to the uncle he hated so very much. He scorned her for it, even though shead been naught but a b.a.s.t.a.r.d, and perhaps that was why he did. He simply didnat care what he did to her. And he knew she would simply accept whatever he meted out to her.

She realized that his hatred of her father wasnat close to the rage that consumed her now, this fine rage that was making her mind cold and hard and so very clear. She stoked it with memories from her childhood and more recent memories of his humiliating treatment of her.

She even smiled as she looked around the tack room, smiled even as she felt the rage turning inside her to something more forthright, something pure and cold as ice, something really quite vicious. If shead had a gun, she would have shot him. She grabbed a riding crop from the desk, raised it high and ran at him, yelling in a wonderfully demented voice, aYou d.a.m.ned b.a.s.t.a.r.d! You think I will remain silent and allow you to humiliate me? You think you can treat me as you would a person of no account at all? I hate you, do you hear me, Marcus, you b.l.o.o.d.y d.a.m.ned b.a.s.t.a.r.d! Never will you abuse me again and take it as your right, your privilege, never again!a She struck his chest and shoulder with the riding crop. For an instant he didnat move, just stared at her, unwilling to believe what head just heard from her mouth or the pain from her slashing riding crop. He simply couldnat connect this virago, this frenzied creature, to the d.u.c.h.ess, to the female head known for ten years.

She was panting hard, as if shead been running until she was ready to vomit with the strain, panting and heaving. aYou want me to act the seductress? Prance in front you as if youare my master, my owner? Youare a filthy b.a.s.t.a.r.d!a She struck him again and he felt his riding jacket split open, felt the lash cut through his lawn shirt to his flesh beneath.

He roared and jumped up. aEnough, d.a.m.n you! What the h.e.l.l is wrong with you? Just a moment ago you were as placid as a stupid cow, sitting there silently as you always do, obeying me, quoting Badgeras menu to me, for G.o.das sake. Nothing on your mind save what you deemed appropriate and proper.a aDonat you dare call me a stupid cow, you fool!a She struck him again. He lunged for her, but she jumped back just beyond his reach, hitting out at him again, missing this time, but if she had connected, it would have slashed through his flesh.

He stopped cold in his tracks. He couldnat believe what was happening. The proof was in the pain of the two slashes she managed, but still . . . He said, his voice colder and harder than what head used to get his men into battle, aYou wonat strike me again, d.u.c.h.ess, not again. I will make you regret striking me at all.a aYou try it and Iall gullet you, you stupid, ungrateful sod. G.o.d, to think that I saved you, that I felt that I owed you your heritage. You donat deserve anything, Marcus, save a beating that will bring you to your knees, humiliation, in short, G.o.d, thatas what you deserve, thatas what you need!a She threw the crop at him, grabbed up a bridle and began swinging it at him with all her strength. She felt the instant the metal bit struck his flesh, felt the iron bit strike his skull, and it was clean that blow, clean and pure and he deserved it. She watched him weave where he stood, his hand on the side of his head, and he stood there just staring at her utterly disbelieving, then he dropped like a stone to his knees, then keeled over onto his side, quite unconscious.

She was panting hard, feeling stronger than the mightiest Amazon of legend. She gently laid down the bridle, went down on her knees and felt his heart. The beat was steady. He would be fine, the d.a.m.nable b.a.s.t.a.r.d. G.o.d, she hoped he would have a headache to rival the worst bellyache shead ever suffered.

She rose, smoothed down her chemise once more, then quite calmly, dressed herself. She gave him one last look, smiling at the two rents in his clothes from the riding crop and left the tack room, quietly closing the door behind her.

It was raining, the afternoon prematurely dark, the wind blowing hard, the branches of the maple and lime trees tearing at themselves. aIt is like Beltane night the monk wrote about,a she said aloud, then laughed, throwing her head back and letting the rain wash over her face and hair. She felt wonderful. She felt strong. She felt whole.

18.

THE GREEN CUBE Room was cozy with its fire blazing and the heavy draperies drawn across the windows. It was late afternoon and she was alone. This time, it felt quite good to be alone. She spared only a pa.s.sing thought for Marcus. If he was conscious, then what was he doing? What was he thinking? Perhaps he was staggering back to the house even now. Perhaps she should go and meet him. No, if she did, shead laugh in his face. Instead, she smiled into the flames, feeling herself grow as warm on the inside as on the outside.

ah.e.l.lo, d.u.c.h.ess. Youare alone. May I speak to you?a She turned slowly and looked at Trevor. How very handsome he was, she thought, and not at all a fool or an idiot like her husband. aDo come in,a she said.

He stopped beside her chair, then moved to stand beside the fireplace, leaning his shoulder against the mantel. aYou know, d.u.c.h.ess, you can speak to me. I also know that Iam more a stranger to you than not, but then again, strangers arenat bad sorts sometimes. They can be trusted. They can be discreet. Something bothers you.a aThere is nothing wrong with me,a she said. aAt least not anymore there isnat. Why would you possibly think that?a aYour stillness,a he said slowly. aWhen you become silent as a stone and as unmoving as that beautiful painting over the mantel, I know that you are distressed.a To his surprise, she laughed. aActually youare very observant, Trevor, but my stillness now, well, itas not the kind of stillness it was yesterday or even this morning or even two hours ago. Now it is just simple stillness because, frankly, Iam tired. So, believe me, sir, there is nothing at all wrong with me now, nothing at all.a aYouare right,a he said slowly. aSomething has changed, youare different somehow. I was thinking when I saw you sitting there, so still, so quiet, that Marcus has known you since you were a child, yet he never realized your quiet pose was just that, a pose, a shield youad fashioned over the years to protect yourself from hurt. He sees it as arrogance, as your way of playing the queen and keeping the peasants at their distance. It enrages him, you know.a aYou are more than observant, youare frightening. As you said, something has happened, and that girl you just described has thankfully fallen behind the wainscoting. She no longer exists. If I am silent now, or overly quiet, it is because it is what I feel like being. G.o.d, life can be quite satisfying, can it not? I will see you at dinner, Trevor.a The d.u.c.h.ess rose from her winged chair and walked from the room, whistling one of the military ditties shead heard Spears singing. He could but stare. What had happened? He wondered where the h.e.l.l Marcus was.

aWhat were you speaking to that little trollop about, Trevor?a He raised his eyes to his motheras face as she walked briskly into the room. aShe isnat a trollop. Sheas the countess of Chase. She is a lady and she has a kindness Iave never before seen in another person.a He paused a moment at his motheras loud hrmmph, then added, aIndeed, if you donat find some conciliatory remark to flit out of your mouth, itas possible that she will simply order us out of here.a aShe wouldnat dare. Sheas a b.a.s.t.a.r.d and the earl doesnat even like her. She has no power here. She is nothing. Besides the earl finds me quite to his liking.a Trevor could only stare at his fond parent. She was actually patting the tight sausage curls over her left ear. He sighed, saying, aI a.s.sure you that Marcus is quite fond of the d.u.c.h.ess.a He wished he could add that Marcusas fondness had quite likely extended itself to very physical demonstrations a short time ago, but he held his tongue. If Marcus had done the job even adequately, why was there such a transformation in her now? There was an unleashed power in her that she couldnat hide. It was controlled, but now it would be loosed when she chose. He found it fascinating. But what had happened to bring about this change in her? Surely Marcus couldnat have bungled his lovemaking all that badly. Maybe, he thought, just maybe it was that Marcus hadnat bungled anything. Maybe she was a pleasured woman and that had made all the difference in her, for her.

Trevor eyed his mother. He realized that he didnat know his mother all that well. Since his eighteenth year, head not lived at his parentsa home in Baltimore. Head made his home in Washington. Indeed, head fought like the devil himself when the British had landed and stormed the capital. Head turned twenty-two during those blood-soaked weary days, then when it was all over, head gone back to Baltimore and married the richest most beautiful girl Baltimorean society had to offer a hungry young man. Her name was Helen and she was more lovely than her legendary namesake. He saw her in his mindas eyea"dead, lying there on her back, her eyes open, her flesh like gray wax.

aIam going to be twenty-five next Tuesday,a he said to no one in particular.

aI thought you were only twenty-three, Trevor. Mayhap twenty-two.a aNo, Mother.a aI have told my friends that you are younger.a He grinned, realizing that his age made her too ancient and she suffered for it. aI wonat tell anyone back home,a he said. aNow, have you seen James?a aHeas off somewhere, doubtless by himself. The boy is driving me quite distracted. He is silent. He is withdrawn. I wish he would do something.a Actually, Trevor knew the source of his younger brotheras discontent. Head finally spilled the beans to his older brother. It seems head fallen in love only three days before theyad sailed to England. He missed Miss Mullens and blamed his family for forcing him to leave her.

aI will speak to him, Mother.a aGood. Now, tell me again everything Mr. Burgess told you. Then I will formulate a plan. I will get the treasure away from here, youall see, and none of them will be the wiser. Oh why, Trevor, did you tell the two of them about the treasure? Youare an unnatural son. But I will win, you will see, my son who is too old, surely, I will win.a The d.u.c.h.ess sat by her window, staring down on the drive. There was nothing to see, for the storm had blackened the summer sky and bloated black clouds hung low overhead. It still drizzled. She thought it a beautiful sight. She shivered with the beauty of it. She looked up when the adjoining door opened and Marcus strode into her room, all healthy and big and looking like a lord, which, of course, he was. Shead wondered where head been, if he had a splitting headache, if head been on his face, moaning with the pain shead brought down on his head. Goodness, that made her smile, and she did now, watching him come forward, wondering what he would do. Would he scream at her? No, Marcus didnat scream, he bellowed, he roared.

She couldnat wait. Never again would she let him reduce her to a silent ma.s.s of nothing at all. Perhaps head brought a pistol with him and he would shoot her. She waited now to see what he would do, excited, her eyes narrowed, her pulse quickening. She would fetch a gun. She still wanted to shoot him, in his right arm.

It was as if he knew what she was thinking. aNo,a he said easily, amy head only hurts in a dull sort of way, lucky for you, madam. I woke up and lay there on the tack-room floor for a few moments, just thinking about what youad done. Now, it is time for dinner. You look quite adequate. The gown is still too revealing, but it is better than the other one.a aThank you,a she said, and looked away from him, back out onto the drive. aI donat suppose you puked up your guts. I hoped youad have a headache and a goodly dose of nausea from that blow I struck you. Did I manage to slash through your clothing to your flesh, Marcus? Did I mark you? A nice angry welt perhaps? I wanted to mark you, very badly.a He thought of the two welts shead struck him with that riding crop and said, aYouare wearing no jewelry. There is the Wyndham collection, you know. I have no idea of the individual pieces in it, but itas bound to be something spectacular. I will have them fetched from the safe in the estate room. You may select what you wish.a aThank you, Marcus. Not even a single red slash mark on your strong manas flesh? Iam disappointed. I must become stronger. I do want to mark you. I want to mark you forever and whenever you see that mark, youall know I was the one who did it and perhaps youall even remember the pain of it.a She rose and shook out her skirts.

aI donat want your b.l.o.o.d.y jewelry.a Evidently he wasnat going to speak of what had happened in the tack room. He walked to her now, stopping within inches from her face. He cupped her chin in his palm and forced her to look up at him. aThe Wyndham jewelry is also yours. If you donat want your jewelry, I really donat care.a He looked down at her silently now, brooding, then said, aI will never think of the tack room in quite the same way again. I will picture you lying on your back, your hands caressing me, drawing me closer, your legs parted for me. I will see your head thrown back, arched up, moaning and crying out.a She merely smiled, c.o.c.king her head to one side, a coquettish c.o.c.king, she hoped as she said, aIt is probably in my blood, my harlotas blood. Perhaps it would be the same with any man. Perhaps I did you a great disservice by forcing you to marry me. Who knows? Perhaps if another man touches me, I will immediately toss up my skirts and moan for him as well. I am sorry that is all you remember from that encounter. I would prefer that you remember pain, Marcus, a lot of pain. A bit of humiliation as well. Bested by a woman. I do hope it grates and rubs.a aDonat try to bait me, d.u.c.h.ess. Now, I havenat forgotten what happened after you turned into a wild woman for me. You took offense at nothing at all, struck me with that riding crop, then knocked me out with that d.a.m.ned bridle. Yes, I felt pain from your unprovoked attack. I simply havenat yet decided what you deserve in return.a aDoubtless I will be the first to know, once youave made up your mind.a She smiled at him again, a full, wide, white-toothed smile. aI will do it again when you behave like a d.a.m.nable b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Donat think I wonat. No more will I be a placid cow. You try to hurt me in return and I swear to you, Marcus, that I will make you very, very sorry. Believe me.a He whistled. aSo, the serene, silent princess is no more. What has been sp.a.w.ned in her place?a aMost certainly you will see, being who and what you are.a He stared at her, and she would have sworn that there was a flame of interest, no, more than interest, it was puzzlement and it was fascination. The d.a.m.ned man, what did he want from her? He said now, obviously dismissing her and what she might be, aWhat did you do with the sketches of the drawings in the monkas book?a So be it. Shead meant it. No more would she simply take the verbal pain he piled on her head. No more. She actually felt quite good at this moment. She fetched them from the marquetry table drawer and gave them to him, smiling all the while. He smoothed them out and stared silently down at them. aThis scene in the village square. If Iam not mistaken, itas Kirby Malham. See the stone cottages in the background and that little hump-backed bridge across the water? That could be the River Aire.a aWhat is its importance? Why is the priest blessing the people?a aI donat know. I am certain that this sketch is of Saint Swaleas Abbey, no doubt about that. And Mr. Burgessa"our interesting relativea"also thinks so. I believe Iall explore the ruins tomorrow. I havenat been near them in years. Like you and the Twins, Charlie, Mark, and I would sport in those small monksa cells, contriving all sorts of vile tortures.a aI believe Trevor plans to visit them tomorrow, when it stops raining. Both he and James.a ad.a.m.ned bounder. He knew, d.a.m.n him, he knew that I wanted you right at that moment, and if it hadnat been raining buckets, he would have gone about his treasure hunting without me.a aHe knows that if there is a treasure, it will belong to you, Marcus.a aHe is, I am forced to admit, a gentleman, mayhap even honorable, in the way of the stiff-necked Colonists. But his name still irritates.a Marcus laid down the sketches, turned, and took her in his arms. He leaned down and kissed her, his fingers tightening on her chin to hold her still. She didnat move, not because she was silent and serene and calm, but because she wanted to see what he would do. He misunderstood her, not a surprise for he was a man and used to seeing her only one way for a good ten years. He raised his head and laughed. aAll calm again, silent as that candle, though youare showing no flame and I did just kiss you. Tell me, d.u.c.h.ess, was your viragoas temper an act? Iam tempted to insult you into another rage just to see what you will do. Right now you play the frigid virgin, or is it the disdainful queen? But if I had but a few more minutes with youa"a He sighed and stepped back. aThereas no time for me to do a proper job with you now. Ah, thereas that smile of yours, that d.a.m.nable mocking smile. But know it, d.u.c.h.ess, if I had the time and if, naturally, I was in the proper mood, I would have you yelling and bucking within minutes. However, itas time to face our Colonial relatives again. You said that Badger was preparing mutton?a aYes, with apricots. And you hold a quite high opinion of your seductive skills, Marcus. Donat forgeta"a She actually laughed, a low very seductive laugh. aI am my motheras daughter. Youare just one man, perhaps not all that skilled with women, I am too inexperienced to judge properly. Itas true that my body seems to respond perhaps too much to you, but there it is. Thereas a world full of men, charming men, handsome men, skilled men, who just might find me utterly delightful. Perhaps one of them will give me a child. Who knows? Oh, yes, Badger didnat have time to hash the mutton. No, he didnat.a He laughed, dismissing all her fine talka"the b.l.o.o.d.y foola"took her hand, and laid it in the crook of his arm. He patted her hand. Let him think she would fold, like a sheet in the hands of the upstairs maid.

She knew shead hurt him, at least a bit. Wasnat he planning retaliation? Surely he wouldnat ignore what shead done. Head try something, indeed a man like Marcus wouldnat allow another person, particularly a feeble woman, a token wife whoad saved his d.a.m.ned hide and had thus, obviously earned his contempt and his indifference, to get away with what shead done to him. Shead struck him repeatedly with the riding crop then hit the side of his head with a bridle. What was wrong with him? Ah, she knew Marcus better than he knew her, at least as of today, she knew him better. She was ready, just let him try his worst.

aI think Mr. Badger is wonderful.a aHeas a servant, Ursula. Pray mind your tongue and remember who you are.a aIam an American, Mama.a aYou are the granddaughter of an earl. Mind your tongue.a Trevor said easily, aI would say that Ursula has got it right, Mother. All of us are Americans. I fought the British, despite my antecedents. Besides, that isnat the point here. Badger is a man with more talents than most Iave ever known.a Marcus said to Ursula, aWhat do you think of Spears?a aMr. Spears is ever so kind and patient. He has a beautiful singing voice. Today I heard him singing a song about Lord Castlereagh and the upcoming Congress in Vienna. It was very funny even though I didnat understand all of it.a aI believe I heard the d.u.c.h.ess humming it as well,a Trevor said. aDo you remember the words, d.u.c.h.ess?a She gently lay her teacup back on the exquisite Meissen saucer and recited: aViennaas the place to make your mark.

Bring enough groats so theyall roll over and bark.

Tallyrand will cede France for a bagatelle;

Castlereagh has most of Portugal to sell.

Donat forget to lie through your teeth.

Dance on your tongue, not on your feet.

Itas time to steal; itas time to play;

By all thatas holy, itas the diplomatas day.a

aHow the devil do you know that ditty?a She slowly turned her head toward her husband. aWhy shouldnat I know it, Marcus? I am a sentient human being, truly, despite what you or others may think. Donat you think it clever? I myself believe the writer of these ditties to be beyond clever. Thereas real talent in them.a aThere have been many of them and it seems that Spears knows all of them. But you are a woman, d.u.c.h.ess. How do you know it, and by heart?a aUrsula just told us that Spears was singing it. I do listen occasionally. I have an excellent memory. Most ladies do, Marcus.a She was lying and he simply didnat know why. She was mocking him, another unexpected result of the attack in the tack room. Shead changed, but perhaps not. d.a.m.nation, but she fascinated him. He frowned at her even as he accepted a cup of tea from his worshipful cousin, f.a.n.n.y, who fluttered her long eyelashes at him, eyelashes that would slay many a young gentleman when she had her Season in London in three years. Was it three years? He must remember to ask the d.u.c.h.ess. His wife.

aItas clever but you donat sing it well,a Aunt Wilhelmina said. aUrsula here has a lovely voice. I trained her myself.a aOh, Mother! The d.u.c.h.ess is perfect. Did you hear her recite the ditty? Sheas wonderful.a aNot all the time,a Marcus said. aNo, there are many sides to her, and after this afternoon, I have discovered that not all of them are what a man would expect.a She had no intention of staying in her bedchamber that night to see if he would come to her. He was a man who was used to being in control. Truth be told, she was afraid that if he touched her she would melt all over him. She couldnat allow that. She moved to the small bedchamber at the end of the east corridor known as the Gold Leaf Room and burrowed beneath covers that were old and musty and smelled of years of disuse. She couldnat sleep, but not because of the strangeness of the bed. When her thoughts werenat of Marcus and what the devil she was going to do, they were of the Wyndham treasurea"what it was and where it was. A treasure from the time of Henry VIII. That there had been such a treasure she now accepted completely.

She sighed, threw back her covers. In a few minutes, she was walking quietly into the vast Wyndham library, her single candle casting little useful light throughout that room with its high bookcases that stretched from floor to ceiling. Where to begin?

She lit a branch of candles then began at the left-hand side of the door with the books at the very bottom.

A clock in the corridor outside the library chimed four strokes when she at last looked up. She had no idea it was so late. She held the huge volume in her arms, still not believing her luck. She felt elation at her discovery. When shead come to the library, shead really not believed shead find anything. Ah, but she had. Carefully, she eased it down on the ma.s.sive mahogany desk and gently separated the pages.

It was the same tome that Mr. Burgess had, all in Latin script and with those strange drawings.

Shead found it quite by accident just moments before when shead dropped an incredibly old book whose pages werenat cut, but had still been dusted once a month by the industrious house staff, but never read. And behind that old book had been this tome, layers of dust on it, obviously not seen or read for as many years as it was old.

Who had hidden the book and why? She felt her heart begin to pound as she turned those final pages. The drawings were just a bit different, but to be expected since each tome had been done one at a time. St. Swaleas Abbey still appeared unutterably depressing, drawn in such stark black, and the scene in that village square was as strange as the other. Slowly, she turned the page. There were final pages here, not ripped out as theyad been in Mr. Burgessas copy.

It was in Latin, naturally, and there were two more pages.

She leaned down, bringing the branch of candles close to study the words. She could make out some of them. There was the name Cromwell, ah yes, the vice-regent for Henry VIII, and something about men head sent, arrogant young men who owed their souls to their master, Cromwell. She skimmed her finger down the page, stopping when she recognized the word for tree and cistern. Defeated with the remaining text, she turned the final page and to her surprise, there was one more drawing. It showed an incredibly old oak tree, gnarled and bent, towering over an ancient stone well. There was an old leather-bound bucket attached to a chain from the crossbar above. There were piles of rocks in the background, not set at random, but rather planned. But what did they represent? The oak tree dominated and it was on a small rise. The sky was blackly ominous, seeming to bear down on the scene, the stroke of the quill strong, the stark black lines still as black as sin.

Then, quite suddenly, she heard something, naught but a small sound, perhaps just the wind whispering, but not here, not in this immense, closed library, but there it was again, that small sound, as if someone were breathing softly, but it was still in the back of her mind, not alerting her really until it was too late. She was turning when she glimpsed a shadow and felt a rush of panic just at the moment the pain against her temple sent her into blackness.

19.

SHE OPENED HER eyes to see Marcusas face very close to hers. He looked worried, definitely worried. About her? No, Marcus didnat care enough about her to worry. She blinked and yet again she saw the lines of his face deepened, his blue eyes darkened even more. Why would Marcus be upset? It made no sense. Besides, he was blurry, so she had to be wrong. Without warning, a shaft of pain nearly sent her back into the darkness. She moaned with the shock of it.

aMarcus,a she said. She raised her hand, but felt him gently draw it back down. aShush,a he said. aJust hold still. I know it hurts. Youave a huge lump behind your left ear. Hold still, all right?a She wanted to speak, but knew if she did, the pain would redouble in its force. She nodded and closed her eyes against it.

She felt his fingers on her face gently pushing the hair from her forehead, smoothing it behind her ears. Then she felt a cool, wet cloth cover her forehead. aSpears said that soft muslin soaked in rosewater would help reduce the pain. Badger says that you canat have laudanum yet, not until weare certain you didnat scramble your brains with that blow you took.a He cupped her cheek in his palm then, and without thought, she turned her face ever so slightly to press against his warm flesh. aThatas right, try to relax. When youare better you can tell us what happened. James found you unconscious on the library floor, the candles guttering on the desk above you. It was the candlelight that brought him into the library. He thought you were dead.

aI must say, d.u.c.h.ess, you gave me the fright of my life, not to speak of what poor James felt. He was stammering with fright, white-faced as any famous castle specter. Donat do that again. You must have fallen and hit your head on the edge of the desk. It was after four in the morning when James found you. What were you doing there? No, keep quiet, I forgot. Just be still. Weall sort all this out later. Keep your eyes open for me. Thatas right. And relax. Badger says weare to keep you awake. Thatas why Iam carrying on like a crazed magpie.

aNow, tell me how many fingers Iam holding up.a She saw the fingers, blurred, but she saw them. She wet her lips and whispered, aThree.a She gasped with the pain that simple word brought her.

The cloth was lifted from her forehead and another laid gently in its place. It felt wonderful. She wished she could tell him that it felt so very good, but the pain was leaching at her senses and she knew just keeping awake would require everything in her.

She felt his large hand against her breast, heard him say quietly, aHer heartbeat is slow and steady, Badger. Stop hovering, man, sheas fine.a aI know, I know,a she heard Badger say. aI knew her heartbeat would be strong. No surprise there. Sheas a strong girl, she always was. Keep the covers to her chin, my lord. Weall keep the la.s.s warm and quiet. But awake. She must stay awake.a She realized then she was safe. No one could strike her again, not with Marcus and Badger here with her. She heard Spears say as he walked toward the bed, aI have prepared the mixture you detailed, Mr. Badger. If you can gently move her head, my lord, I will apply the mixture to the lump.a aIt will reduce the swelling and make the pain lessen,a Badger said.

aI donat want to hurt her,a Marcus said, but then he moved her head on the pillow.

She didnat realize she was crying until she felt someone wipe the tears off her cheeks and gently daub at her closed eyes. Marcus said very softly, aGently now, d.u.c.h.ess. Spears has the lightest fingers of all of us. It will hurt though, but then it will be better. Thatas what Badger promises. If heas wrong Iall let you smack him on the side of the head. That will make three of us with headaches.a Spears applied the salve. Suddenly she felt nausea twist and roil in her stomach, adding to the dreadful pounding in her head. She swallowed convulsively.

Badger said, aBreathe deeply, d.u.c.h.ess. Thatas right. It will make the sickness go away. No, donat fight it. Do as I tell you. Deeply. Good.a When at last they gave her laudanum, she actually felt better, but Marcus wouldnat allow her yet to speak. aNo, d.u.c.h.ess, I want you to sleep.a She managed to whisper to him, aDonat leave me.a He was silent for a moment, a surprised silence that went on so long she was afraid that he didnat know how to tell her that he didnat want to remain. Then, however, he said easily, aI wonat leave you, I promise.a She took stock of her injuries. There was a dull thudding over her left eye. The nausea was gone, as was the debilitating pain from the blow to her head. Slowly, she opened her eyes. Marcus wasnat there and she cried out, panicked and afraid.

aIam here,a he said, and she watched him stride quickly back to her bed. aShush, Iam here.a aYou promised you wouldnat leave me.a aI just wandered to the fireplace, no destination further away than that. Ah, and once I did have to relieve myself, d.u.c.h.ess. But I sent Badger in to oversee your sleep whilst I was gone. How do you feel?a aI did feel like a keg of ale that rolled off the wagon and splatted on the cobblestones. Now, the keg only has a small leak.a aI felt something like that,a he said, then grinned at her, leaned down, and lightly touched his mouth to hers. His mouth was warm and rea.s.suring. aNow, hereas tea for you. Badger said you would be thirsty and this fancy herbal tea he mixed for you would be just the thing.a He helped her drink, then said, aAre you hungry?a aNo, nothing. The tea is very good.a aYou promise me you feel all right now?a aYes, the leak is merely a small crack now.a aGood.a His voice lost its sweetness and became a low furious roar. aWhat the h.e.l.l were you doing in the library with guttered candles at four oaclock in the morning?a She wanted to laugh but a small smile was all she could manage. aThe Wyndham legacy. I went searching for clues and I found another old book just like Mr. Burgessas.a He frowned as he said, aYou should have awakened me if you wanted to go treasure hunting. You wonat go do anything alone again. Now, about that booka"there wasnat one there when I got down to the library.a aSomeone hit me and took it. Actually I guess someone saw me reading it and struck me down in order to take it.a aNo,a he said. aThatas simply not sensible. You must misremember, d.u.c.h.ess. You must have slipped and fallen. You must have struck your head on the edge of the desk.a aIam sorry, but someone did strike me, Marcus.a She saw that he believed her, but he didnat want to. To accept it meant that someone in the house had deliberately hurt her, that someone was up to no good. She didnat want to believe it either.

aThat cursed treasure,a he said, and continued to swear as he plowed his fingers through his hair. aWhere did you find the book?a aBehind another one on a lower shelf that hadnat ever been read or moved, just dusted periodically.a Surprisingly, he said, aAll right. You went to the library to look for a clue and you found the book. Were you in the library long? I went to your bedchamber and you werenat there. I was perturbeda"about many thingsa"but I didnat go looking for you.a aI went to the Gold Leaf Room but I couldnat sleep. As I said, I went to the library to search for a cluea"I never even thought to believe Iad find the book, find anything that was importanta"but I did find it. Only someone else must have seen the candlelight. I didnat hear anything, not really, just this slight movement, this sort of whispering sound, but I was concentrating so hard on the text and the sketcha"a He gently touched his fingertips to her lips. aDonat get upset, youall just make yourself sick. Close your eyes a moment and breathe deeply. Thatas right. Just relax, d.u.c.h.ess.a He studied her face as she stilled. She was very pale, terrifyingly so, but Badger had sworn to him that she would be fine. Just a bit more time, head said.

Her breathing evened into sleep. Slowly, he rose from the bed and stretched. He wanted a bath and clothes. He rang for Maggie and she came, her glorious hair becomingly tousled, for it was still early, barely eight oaclock in the morning. At least she was dressed now. Before shead dashed in wearing a peignoir that a London mistress would be proud to own, a feathered silk affair of pale peach. Just who, he wondered, had bought that for her? Her taste was flamboyant, but really quite good. The peignoir was something a man would buy, expensive, but gaudy and screaming s.e.x.

He sent her to search out Badger, who just happened to be with Spears in his own bedchamber, just beyond the adjoining door.

d.a.m.ned meddlers, he thought.