A Second Chance for Murder (14 page)

“Goodnight, Lord Huntscliff,” she said, smiling up at him.

“Goodnight,” he returned, inwardly thinking it was to be a good night. His long strides quickly brought him to Thora’s bedroom door. He knocked. From inside he heard the soft patter of slippers and his heart began to race. There was no surprise in Thora’s eyes when she opened the door to find him filling the doorframe. She stepped aside to allow him entrance, giving him a sly smile as he brushed past her.

Her room was as he’d imagined. Not frilly with ruffles and yards of lace. Its femininity spoke through its soft hues on the walls and bedcovers, its delicate curved fruitwood furnishings, and its many flowers. The bedroom was sprinkled with fragrant buds and blossoms in vases both large and small. A full bundle of white roses sat in a glass urn on a table by the window, while a smaller vase of petal pink wild flowers dotted her nightstand. Sweet-scented violets adorned her dressing table and her writing desk. Even her nightgown had embroidered yellow daisies on its high-necked collar. The lightweight gown was simple yet provocative in its modesty, shielding her treasures.

Wide blue eyes peered up at him with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. They both had been children when they had first met, but now he was a man and she was a woman. A very alluring woman. And a virgin—an innocent in the body of a temptress. True to her nature, Thora’s face bore the flush of eagerness. Eagerness to cross the threshold from innocence to womanhood, and he would gladly serve as her guide.

He took her hand and raised it to his lips, planting a tender kiss in her palm. Then he placed it against his cheek. Her palm was soft and cool, yet it sent a wave of heat rushing through him. Delicately, her slender fingers followed the line of his jaw to his chin, then up to his lips. Her inquisitive exploration of his face was maddening, and he felt his heart pump faster.

He struggled to remain still until the need to kiss her overwhelmed him and he slid his mouth over hers in a long, leisurely kiss. Cupping the back of her head, he held her in place while he slipped his tongue into her mouth.

Their tongues danced together as if performing some type of pagan mating ritual. When he finally stepped away, her lips were puffy and she was breathless. Her hands grasped his upper arms, and he felt her fingernails through the cloth of his jacket, digging into the bulge of his biceps as if to steady the need growing within her. He brought his lips to hers again with hungry kisses, smothering her soft, quivering moans. Her hurried breaths fanned the flames growing inside him. His fingers deftly began to undo the row of tiny pearl buttons on the front of the neckline of her nightdress, revealing a teasing glimpse of breast. Taking two fistfuls of the cloth draping her thighs, he lifted the gown over her head and tossed it aside. Her breasts rose and fell as she panted from his passionate kisses. The sight held him spellbound.

Standing before Garren, Thora suddenly realized she was naked. Her legs instinctively clamped together and her face flamed.

To ease her discomfort, he whispered, “Thora, you are so beautiful. A stirring delight to a man’s eyes.”

Thora’s blush remained, but he saw some of the tension ease from her body. Her pink cheeks would have deepened to crimson were she aware that she was standing only a few feet from a mirrored wardrobe, giving him an excellent view of her bare backside.

He began to sweat, imagining how nicely his hands would fit over her firm, plump bottom. Such a fine little cushion when she lay beneath him. A tiny gasp left her lips when he scooped her into his arms and carried her over to the bed. He laid her down gently and then stood over her, staring down at her. It was with great restraint that he resisted tearing his clothes from his body. He was burning with the desire to take her long and hard. Her blue eyes watched anxiously as he removed his clothing. When he was finished, her gaze took him in from head to toe, her eyes stopping midway and widening at the sight of his erection.

“I’ve never seen a man in all his naked glory before, except in books and art paintings,” she said, continuing her perusal of his muscular torso, taking in his rippled stomach and powerful thighs. “In comparison, you appear a fine specimen.”

“Specimen?” he asked, a lazy smile stretching his lips. “Am I to be examined like some type of insect? To be poked and probed? If so, I must warn you that part of my anatomy will stand in protest.”

“It seems to have done that already,” Thora returned, casting her eyes downward.

“You have that effect on me,” he murmured. “Ever since I saw you standing at the library window. I wanted you then and I want you more now.” Lying down beside her, he drew her near and a low guttural groan escaped his lips as the sensation of her feminine flesh against his erection nearly had him spilling.

It had been a while since he had lain with a woman, since before his stay in the hospital, and now with this beauty in his arms, his urges were clamoring for release. But now was not the time to be selfish. He was on edge with desire but he need to regain control. Thora was not just another warm body to give him ease. She was more . . . much more. She was important to him. She needed to be prepared, to be made ready for him. He was skilled. He knew how to use his fingers, his lips, his tongue, and his cock to bring her to a woman’s fulfillment.

Burning desire flamed through him at the thought of Thora calling out his name in the heat of her passion. His breathing was disturbed as she ran her fingers down to the groove at the base of his back. His hand slid over her breast, cupping the rounded globe. Her nipple peaked, rosy and hard in his palm. He traced the under curve of her breast with the pad of his thumb, causing a faint moan to float from Thora’s lips. Lowering himself, he took the tightly budded nipple into his mouth. He felt her quiver as he tugged the sensitive peak with his teeth. He started to move his lips to the valley between her breasts when, suddenly, through his haze of passion, the hairs on the back of his neck twitched and he felt Thora being pulled from beneath him.

Lifting his head, he saw a dark figure cloaked in black, long spidery fingers grasping Thora. Garren tried to move but couldn’t, as if he were paralyzed.

Thora had been torn from his embrace. He strained to speak, to shout out a warning, but his lips moved and nothing came out. The figure in black threw its cloaked head back and laughed s. With every ounce of strength in his body, Garren strove to rise, but his legs were caught in the tangle sheets, and as he leaped out of bed, he fell to the floor.

When he raised his head, the ghastly figure was gone. Garren shook his head. Looking about, he discovered that he was back in his room. Then he realized it had been just a dream, a frightful dream.
But was it a premonition?

Chapter 8

The next morning, as the guests breakfasted inside the manor, a steady stream of servants carried tables and chairs down to the lake and placed them in the shade of the trees that grew along the water’s edge. A crew of workmen opened the wide, barn-like doors of the boathouse and removed three boats. It was a perfect day to be out on the lake.

Perched above the lake in a cloudless sky, the sun steadily admired its image in the calm waters until a group of paddling ducks swam by, shattering its reflection and sending a burst of shimmering lights dancing over the ripples they made. After taking out the boats, the workmen placed each one in the water, securely tying them to a jetty that extended from the shore to deeper water. Rowing oars, a jug of water, and a small container of live bait were put into each craft. When the servants had arranged the table and chairs, they returned inside and on a long table in one of the drawing rooms, they lined up a number of fishing poles.

“Thora, I still don’t understand how you could go fishing when you have to touch those disgusting, wiggling worms,” Lauryn said, making a face of disgust as the group of guests gathered in the drawing room for the day’s outing.

Picking out a fishing rod from the table with a smile, Thora responded, “When you’ve found frogs in your tea cup, lizards racing down the hall, or some other equally repulsive, crawly creature placed in your bedcovers by your older brother, putting a worm on a hook is child’s play.”

Lady Lauryn glanced over at Nyle who was standing nearby. “Lord Somerville, did you really do all those things?”

“Indeed I did,” Nyle confessed truthfully. “It’s a brother’s duty.” He chuckled.

Lauryn could not disguise her shock, causing Nyle’s chuckle to deepen.

“Well, then, I consider myself most fortunate to have been blessed with an older sister,” she remarked, and went to stand with her mother who was holding a box of watercolors. The Mayfields had decided to paint while waiting for the men to finish their sport.

Lord Huntscliff moved along the table slowly, picking up a rod every now and again to test its flexible and how snugly it fit into his palm before setting it back down. Before he considered his next choice, he suddenly became aware that he was being followed. Turning, he found it was the three young Langless girls, whom he had met for the first time last evening. “Good morning, ladies,” he greeted.

“Good morning, Lord Huntscliff!” they sang in unison like students greeting their favorite teacher. The youngest, Emily, approached him holding an object in her hand.

“I have a good luck charm for you, my lord,” the bubbly nine-year-old excitedly squealed. Uncurling the fingers of her small hand, she revealed a tiny porcelain pony attached to a long length of pink ribbon.

Garren sat on his haunches, bringing himself to her level. Bending his head, he let the girl place it over his neck as if she were awarding him a medal. “Wearing this charm, I have every confidence that Lord Somerville and I will win this contest, Miss Emily,” he said solemnly. He then let the girls assist him in his selection of a rod.

Observing the scene, Thora was touched.
He likes children and would no doubt make a wonderful father
, she concluded dreamily. Like Garren, Thora took great care in the selection of her fishing pole. She was the last to make a choice, and then, pole in hand, she followed the group of guests as they left the manor and went down to the lake. Walking a few feet ahead of her was Lord Huntscliff, circled by the three Langless girls, all busy chatting at the same time. Throwing her a backward glance, he gave her a look of helplessness. She giggled, thinking how she must have been just like those little girls tagging along after him and her older brother in her younger days. Lost in pleasant reverie, she was unaware that there was someone walking beside her until she heard a voice.

“I think you may have an unfair advantage over of the rest of us, Lady Thora.” It was Marquis Brightington who had spoken and his piercing green eyes gazed down at her.

“How so, my lord?” Thora asked.

“If I were a fish, it wouldn’t take much coaxing to lure me to your line,” Marquis Brightington explained with a seductive smile.

Thora didn’t know why, but she found Marquis Brightington’s flattery unsettling. “My charm has never helped me before,” she said, forcing a laugh and quickening her step, which prompted him to do likewise, and positioning them both within the sphere of the other guests.

The men, who were to fish from the boats, strode down the jetty and paired themselves with their team member. Marquis Brightington and Lord Flemington took the first craft and received their well wishes from the Mayfields in the form of a demure wave. Sandler Leedworthy and Viscount Simon-North took the next boat, softly cheered on by Lady Floris. It was Nyle and Garren who got the most rousing send off from the three young Langless girls, who jumped up and down on the jetty shouting their encouraging support. Lady Langless kissed her husband’s cheek, handed him a flask of water, and wished him and Thora good luck.

Thora frowned. “Now that your daughters have scared off all the fish, Lord Langless, I think it best if we find a better spot to cast our lines. And I know just the place!”

“You know this lake better than I, child. Lead on,” Lord Langless bellowed.

Thora’s competitive spirit had her rolling her eyes, realizing she was going to have to curtail conversation with her boisterous partner if she wanted to win this contest. With Lord Langless following a short distance behind her, Thora led the way to one of her favorite fishing spots. Just a few yards from the jetty was a stone bridge that could take one quickly over to the other side of the lake where the water was deeper and well stocked with fish. Crossing the bridge, Thora briskly followed the winding shoreline until she came to a high bank that jutted out into the water and allowed her to view the other teams as they rowed past. Determined to win, she didn’t wait for her partner, Lord Langless, before settling down on the grass. With speed her competitors would have admired, Thora baited her hook and threw her line into the water, getting a head start on the others.

It was with remarkable ease that the burly Lord Flemington pulled on the oars of his boat carrying himself and Marquis Brightington. Their boat glided across the water as smoothly as skates on ice. Slowing his momentum briefly, Flemington flashed a bright smile in her direction and Marquis Brightington gave her a disquieting glance.

A few seconds later, the next team to parade by was Viscount Simon-North and Sandler Leedworthy. Simon-North had undoubtedly refused to do anything as menial as rowing a boat and had left the chore to his teammate. While Leedworthy, his face marked with exertion, strained at the oars, the viscount smiled and waved as they passed.

Catching up swiftly to the others was the boat bearing her brother and Lord Huntscliff. Thora noticed that Garren was rowing. Like the other men, he was without a jacket and Thora looked on with womanly appreciation as the muscles beneath his linen shirt flexed when he pulled on the oars. He smiled and dipped his head slightly, acknowledging her as he effortlessly rowed with smooth, steady strokes. She couldn’t help but chuckle at seeing the intricate pony dangling from the pink ribbon tied around his neck, his good luck charm from Emily Langless. Nyle confidently signaled that he would fill the boat with the largest catch, prompting her to give him a sour face, which sparked his amusement, and he threw back his head and laughed.

When he finally joined her, Lord Langless gave an exhausted puff. He was tempted to sit and rest, but seeing the competitive resolve in his partner’s eyes and that she had already had a fish on her line, he quickly cast his own line into the water. Much to Thora’s surprise and delight, he soon managed to catch two fish.

“Indeed, this is a choice spot. At this rate, we’ll need a bushel to hold our catch,” he said.

“Let’s not underestimate our opponents, my lord,” Thora cautioned, pulling in another fish. “The lake is well stocked and my brother knows a few choice spots that he has yet to share.”

“My dear girl, I bet they haven’t even cast their lines,” Lord Langless said with a yawn.

Saying that he was just going to take a short rest, he sat down on the grass and leaned up against a tree. In less than a blink of an eye, he was fast asleep. Thora groaned upon hearing his snoring, almost as loud as his speech.
How does Lady Langless stand it?
she mused.

Thinking it best to move further from her noisy dozing partner, Thora took her fishing pole and bucket of bait in hand and continued further along the bank of the lake to a more peaceful spot. Before long, she’d caught three fish. She was just about to cast her line into the water when she sensed a movement behind her. Thinking it was the awakened Lord Langless come to join her, she turned, saying, “The fish are biting here, your lordship, throw in your line!”

But there was no answer.

She spun around and saw no one, only trees and shrubs.

Thora suddenly realized she was alone. Lord Langless was asleep and she was out of ear range of all the others. Goosebumps rose up on her arms and her heart began to pound. She had the eerie feeling that she was being watched. Was someone lurking in the thick woodland behind her? Ready to pounce on her?

Thora put her hand into the pocket of her skirt and was about to pull out her police rattle when something jumped out from under one of the bushes. Thora gave a short, startled screech, but seeing it was just a harmless rabbit, she released a long sigh of relief and went back to her fishing. By the time Lord Langless woke and found her, she had seven fish to her credit. Feeling refreshed, the older gentleman cast out his line and was able to add two more fish to his tally.

As the hour at which the four teams had agreed to stop drew near a troop of servants came down to the lake carrying baskets filled with food, drink, plates, napkins, glasses, and silverware. One servant held a large horn and walked down to the edge of the jetty. Taking a deep breath, he blew into the mouthpiece to sound off the signal that the contest was over. On shore, the Mayfield ladies set down their brushes and packed up their watercolors, Lady Langless put aside her needlepoint, and Floris closed the book she had been pretending to read. The three younger Langless sisters, much to their mother’s horror, had taken off their shoes and stockings, lifted their skirts above their ankles, and were frolicking in the water. After receiving a lukewarm scolding from their mother, who could still remember her own frisky romping at that age, the girls put on their stockings and shoes and skipped down to the jetty. Emily and her two sisters anxiously watched the lake for signs of the returning boats. Sighting the first boat, the girls gleefully alerted the other ladies.

Viscount Simon-North and a very tired-looking Sandler Leedworthy presented a total of eight fish, having tied with four each. The next team to come back and display their catch was Lord Flemington and Marquis Brightington. Together, they had caught an impressive total of ten fish—Lord Flemington four and Brightington six. Marquis Brightington’s look of confidence in winning had the young Langless sisters worried. Their fears proved unfounded when their team arrived and turned in a catch of twelve, Nyle catching five and Garren seven.

But there was still one more team to give their count. Wearing a smug look on her face when she and Lord Langless returned to the group, Thora proved her boast of being an able fisherman was not an idle one. As a team, she and Lord Langless had a total of eleven. She had caught seven fish and Lord Langless had a tally of four. He and Thora had tied.

Lord Somerville and Huntscliff had won as a team, but the prize of the Nottingham Reel was undetermined as Garren and Thora were matched in number.

“Well now,” Lord Langless said as he considered the score numbers, “this does present a problem! Who gets the prize of that new reel?” he asked.

Before Nyle could respond, Garren spoke up. “For now I suggest leaving the Nottingham Reel in Lady Thora’s safe custody until a compromise can be reached,” he said, flashing his bright white smile at Thora.

Garren went over to Miss Emily Langless. Taking the good luck charm from around his neck, he handed it back to the nine-year-old, saying, “and thank you for letting me borrow him today. I don’t know how I would have fared without his help.”

The girl gazed up at him worshipfully and gave him a wide grin, telling him he was welcome to borrow it at any time. Turning to her sisters, she squished her face at them. “I told you my pony had magic!” she proclaimed with childish pride.

A day out in the open air boosted everyone’s appetite and their overflowing plates bore witness. Even the ladies who had not participated in the sport ate heartily on cold mutton and sliced beef with mushrooms, green beans, potatoes, and a variety of fruit filled tarts and sugar-sprinkled lemon cakes for dessert.

During lunch Marquis Calder Brightington was heard to complain that somehow the heel of his boot loosened and that he would need to take a trip into the village the next morning to either have it repaired or to buy a new pair. Nyle suggested one of the local merchants who ordered most of his stock from London. Viscount Radley Simon-North asked if he might come along as there was something he needed to post, a package to a cousin for an upcoming birthday.

“How very thoughtful you are, my lord,” Lauryn said, smiling coyly at the handsome man sitting beside her.

Unlikely, Garren mused, having overheard. More likely sending a sugarcoated letter to appease one of his married ex-lovers from exposing their affair. God, he hated the man! Marquis Brightington shrugged, saying he didn’t mind having company.

Thora sat with her fishing partner, Lord Langless, and his daughter, Floris. They were soon joined by Sandler Leedworthy. The poor man seemed drained. He was definitely not the outdoorsman. Thora couldn’t help but notice that each time the man lifted his glass to drink, he winced, and she was certain he would probably be asking one of the servants for some liniment to rub on his sore muscles tonight.

It was quite a different picture at the next table where Lord Avery Flemington was sitting with Lady Langless and her three young daughters. Lord Flemington showed no signs of fatigue as he animatedly stretched out his arms, demonstrating how he had caught the last and largest fish of his catch. He was a good storyteller, describing his struggle with the spirited trout, and the ladies held on to his every word and appeared to be genuinely entertained.