A Most Delicate Pursuit (25 page)

Michael awoke before sunrise. Beatrice lay beside him, curled on her side and sleeping deeply. He watched her in the dim light, the steady rise and fall of her chest, the musical cadence of her breathing, and the lingering scent of lavender and red wine. It was a heady brew, and lying beside her after a full night of lovemaking left him breathless.

More than that, she deserved better than him.

Far better.

In the midst of his wandering thoughts, he heard the distant jangling of a rig outside the bedroom widow. Because their room was above the yard by the stables, with the windows open, he could hear the horse sounds over the usual morning cacophony.

Sliding out of bed, he crept quietly to the window and peered out.

Below the window, a carriage waited. Beside it stood a woman of slender build, wearing a black gown and holding a black lace umbrella. For the moment she was turned away from him, inspecting the carriage, slowly walking from its front to its back. Then, turning around to face him, she lifted her chin and stared directly at him.

His gut twisted. She was beckoning to him and, like a moth to a flame, he could no longer run away from his past. Not anymore.

Bea deserved better.

This was to be a duel of a different sort that awaited him, and he knew hers was one bullet he could not avoid.

Slipping from the room, he made his way down the stairs and out the back of the mansion. He'd heard the rumblings of Summerton's staff moving about, preparing for the day. He'd also heard muffled noises from the nursery as he passed the rooms. Most likely the children were up and about and their nanny and her staff were doing their best to contain them until Ash and Caro were awake.

“Michael?” He turned to find his sister-in-law in the hall, dressed already in her morning gown of pale yellow trimmed in daisy embroidery.

“Good morning, Caroline. How fare you this fine day?”

She gave him a long look. “I think the question is, how are you?”

He shrugged. “I'm well, thank you.”

“Are you leaving us so soon?” She pointed to his wrinkled shirt and pants, and the jacket he held over his left arm.

“Not at all. I have to go see off a friend,” he lied. “Beatrice is still sleeping. I didn't want to wake her.”

Caroline stared at him for a minute, clearly considering whether or not he was telling her the truth. “Very well. Shall we see you at brunch then?”

“I wouldn't miss it.” He smiled, doing his best to reassure her.

“Very well,” she said. Then she looked away, suddenly seeming unsure of what she should say next.

“Caroline, you're worried for your sister, and I understand that. I promise it's her well-being that concerns me above all else.”

His sister-in-law nodded. “I know. Whether or not the two of you dare to admit it, you are in love.”

He nodded, suddenly tired. “Rest assured, anything I do from now on will be because I love your sister.”

“Of course,” she said.

A loud infant wail sounded from down the hall. He smiled. “I'll leave you to it.”

Without warning, Caroline hugged him tight. “You know I've always wanted a brother. I'm very happy that it is you, Michael. But know this. I will box your ears if you don't behave,” she quipped.

Michael smiled. “If I don't, I shall bend down so you can reach them better.”

With that she was gone, and he couldn't miss her dabbing at her eyes as she went.

Michael shook his head. No sense in regretting it now, he thought. Once and for all, it was time to end the merry chase he'd led them all on.

It was time to look to the future. That's what he thought as he made his way through the waking mansion and out toward the stable.

It wasn't until he was almost upon the carriage that he looked up to face the visitor. His stomach tightened and his breath left his chest. He saw Constance as she truly was. She was no longer the lighthearted woman who'd spread laughter and mischief everywhere she went. Nor was she the playful and caring lover he'd once thought she was.

Any thoughts of her innocence were rent asunder when he looked into her face. She was evil and oily darkness, wearing her black mourning gown, as she should have been since her husband's death. Her hands were now claws that reached out to him. His blood ran as cold as a winter's eve when he took hold of them and bent down, kissing the air above her knuckles.

“Thank heavens you've come. I swear I'm about to catch a chill.”

He let out a breath. “Really? Because I find it rather warm this morning. Why are you here?” he asked, as if he didn't already know.

“I've come for you, my love.”

“I'm a married man, Connie.”

She laughed. “Oh, my goodness, you are the most entertaining thing, I swear.”

“You find that funny?”

“I do.” She waved her fan at him. “You're no good for the likes of her. Anyone who has half a brain would know that.”

“Really?”

She gave him a smug look.

“A man of your”—she looked him up and down—“virility simply cannot stay satisfied by a cup of bland pudding like your wife.”

“I told you before…”

“Yes, yes, I know. You're married. But I know the truth. She's too pristine and sweet, that one. She'd never do for the kind of mischief you'll be wanting to get into.”

Michael tried to push down the rising burn of anger stirring inside him. “I've little patience for your games, Connie. What do you want?”

“To take you all over the world, my love. To China, India, America even. I've been longing for some real cane sugar, you know. Dancing with the colonials, or perhaps partaking in the grand hunt for ivory.”

Michael grimaced. “After all that's happened, you think I'd take you back? After the way you so cruelly maligned me in court?”

She stepped forward and he could feel her heat washing over him. But it wasn't a lover's warmth. It was a funeral pyre.

“You know you need me, Michael. You always have.”

“Why would I ever need you?”

“Because I know your secrets. All of them. How you'd tried to coax the young heiress in Spain to marry you, or how you shamed your late wife into her grave. I know there were others in between…”

“I've already told Beatrice about all of my life before I met her.”

She laughed. “Have you now? What a good husband you are.” She placed her hand on his chest. “But aren't you afraid, Michael?”

Michael closed his eye. There was no escaping her or the long trail of tears he'd left behind. “Afraid of what?”

“That you'll drag her down with you. It's only a matter of time. Your own father told you so.”

Michael stepped back. “What in blazes are you talking about?”

“You, my love. Every woman who has ever cared for you has come to a bad end. Your mother ran away. The heiress? Her own father nearly beat her to death and sold her into a loveless marriage after you ruined her.”

“Isabella lied to me. She was already engaged when we met. I didn't know…”

“So you say, but her father says otherwise. I have a letter he wrote, saying how you seduced her and then tossed her aside after you'd had your way with her.”

Michael shook his head. “I have never done such a thing. She begged me…”

“So you say. But her father tells a different story. Never mind that. What about your late wife? She killed herself because of you. How long will it be before the sweet Beatrice will come to hate you the way those other women did?”

His temper set to the boil, he grabbed her and jerked her to him so close that there was barely the space of a breath between them. “Beatrice will never hate me.”

“Is that what you think? I know the truth of you, Michael. Admit it. You were unable to save those women from themselves, and now you're leading poor Beatrice down the same path.”

That was when the fight went out of him. He relaxed his grip and stepped back.

But, as tempting as placing his hands around her throat and squeezing her treacherous life right out of her was, he knew he could not. Another trial, one that he'd surely lose, was beyond even his foolish temper. And the humiliation to Bea, Ash, and Caroline was too much to risk.

“Really,” he asked her, “why did you come here?”

“Come with me, Michael. Come now and I swear all of your family and friends will be spared the pain of learning the truth about you.”

“And what truth do you think that is?”

The woman smiled. “That you think that you love that girl. You and I both know that one day you'll grow bored. You'll leave her behind and come to me as you always have. Face it, Michael. You want me.”

“You're wrong, Connie. I wanted a woman, someone to drink with me, to help me dull the pain. But no more. As far as I'm concerned, you are no better than a snake in the grass.”

“How dare you speak to me so,” she said.

“I do dare, and more. You're a hateful, vindictive woman, Connie. I would rather die than spend another moment in your company.”

With that, he turned away from her and strode back into the house. He heard her hiss and spit curses at him, but the words fell away into the morning light, disappearing like mists separating in the rising sun.

There was only one thing on his mind now—the woman who now lay sleeping in his bed—for she alone had healed his heart and she alone now held his soul. It had been a most delicate pursuit, indeed. And he'd been blessed that she'd never given up on the hunt.

When at last he'd returned to bed, Michael had a moment to consider the strange turns his life had taken the past few months. It had been like one unending dream. First, his losing Beatrice, then finding her, only for her to be torn away from him. Then there was the duel, the imprisonment, and the trial…

But now, here he was, finally with the woman he loved. Tonight would be special for them both. He would make her a promise that he would keep to his last breath.

“You're awfully quiet,” Beatrice said as he climbed into bed beside her. The scent of wildflowers and female musk aroused a deep need in him. Not just the wanting her in his bed, although he did very much desire her. It was something more solid than that, something that lived in his soul. An incredible ache for her of a sort he'd never known.

For the very first time in his life, he was wanted. He could see it in her eyes, feel it in her touch as she slid her hands under the covers to lay her head against his chest. Turning on his side, he pulled her into his arms and she melted in his embrace. For a moment all he wanted was to hold her, to feel the heat of her against him, to hear the cadence of her breathing and marvel at her incredible beauty.

“Are you all right, husband?” she asked in an anxious tone.

He let out a breath. “For the very first time, I believe I am.”

“How do you feel?”

He grinned. “I feel loved and worthy of love. And I have you to thank for it.”

She laughed, a light, joyful sound. “Silly man. You've always been worthy of love. It's just no one ever bothered to tell you so.”

“Perhaps. I feel new, somehow. As if I've been reborn as someone else and yet the same.”

“I'm glad for you, husband. And for me as well.” She sighed. “The only thing that would make this moment any better would be for my husband to make love to me.”

It was his turn to laugh. “As my lady wants.” Leaning down, he captured her mouth and kissed her. At first, he tasted the joyous sweet flavor of the wine they'd shared at dinner, the cakes they'd had for dessert. But as their kiss deepened, he enjoyed the essence of the woman he fell in love with. Headstrong. Brilliant. Amazing.

“Please,” Bea moaned when their kiss broke, both of them gasping. “I need you, now.”

Michael rolled over on top of her, spreading her legs with his own, balancing himself above her. “I love you, Beatrice.”

“And I love you,” she muttered, placing her hands on his hips while raising her knees. Then, tilting herself upward, she wrapped her legs around him and slid her hands to cup his bottom. It had a profound affect on him, already hard and ready, his groin twitching and the urge to push into her almost more than he could stand.

He kissed her again, suckling her chin, her neck, and bending so that when he pulled up, she moved with him. He captured her left breast in his mouth, where he proceeded to whirl his tongue around her hardened tip. She cried out when he nibbled at it, and then again when he gave his attentions to the other one.

At last, when he thought he'd driven them both to near madness, he gently settled her on the bed and, kissing her once again, positioned himself at her opening. He paused for a moment, and she cried out beneath him.

“Now, Michael,” she whispered, arms around his shoulders, their bodies pressed together. Doing as she urged, he pushed forward. Gentle and slow at first, building up momentum, harder and faster, until he felt her orgasm build; at the very peak, when he heard her scream, he drove home to find his own release.

It was in those few seconds, as they hung together, that Michael knew they'd become more than just husband and wife. They were two souls joined together for all eternity. At last, Michael had found his destiny and her name was Beatrice.

Hours later, Bea awoke to the sound of her husband's snore buzzing in her ears. She smiled, knowing full well that there would likely come a time when she'd not be so thrilled at hearing him make such a racket.

He'd been through so much. It broke her heart to think how he'd suffered. Unwanted and abandoned, how lonely he must have felt. How cruel everyone had been, from his family, his former mistress, and even she could have treated him better.

Well, she could do nothing to change the past, but she very well could make his future brighter.