A Wager for Love (27 page)

Lavinia was shivering uncontrollably. How long had she been here in this filthy hut? An hour, several hours? She did not know. In the corner she could hear faint scuttlings, making her shrink back in terror. Were they mice? Rats? She pulled her dress round her. It was so cold. If only she had a light. When she had first stumbled on this building with her legs aching, her face scratched and her gown torn to ribbons. she had opened the door and sunk down with relief, thinking it a veritable haven. Even if she could find a farm or some other dwelling, how could she present herself in her present disarray? Who would believe her story? Her only comfort was the pistol she had stolen from the chaise, but that did nothing to alleviate the cold in her limbs or the fear in her heart. How long before Andover recovered and came looking for her? She would not go away with him. her mind was made up on that score. No matter that Saltaire must by now have discovered her absence and put his own interpretation on it. She lifted her chin determinedly. She still had a family and friends, and her money. She would make her life afresh. In the country somewhere perhaps. Quite unaccountably this delightful plan failed to bring her the slightest comfort, or stop the tears filling her eyes. She wanted one thing and one thing only-the warmth and comfort of her husband’s arms, the security of his love. She sighed, smiling sadly at such thoughts. She might as well wish for the moon. But surely soon it would be daylight, and then perhaps she could leave this dreadful place. A fresh burst of scuttling in the corner had her shrinking against the wall, her heart racing in fear. She stiffened, her ears catching what in her first fear, they had neglected to hear. There was someone outside. She could hear the soft snuffling of a horse and the creaking of a saddle.

Instinctively she pressed herself against the cold wall of the building, her nerves stretched to breaking point. She could hear footsteps. They drew nearer, a slow purposeful tread. The door opened and a man stood in the doorway, the light behind him. Resolutely she held the pistol in front of her.

“Don’t come any nearer or I shall shoot you,” her voice wobbled a little on the last word, but otherwise it was a very creditable performance.

The man obviously was not impressed for he advanced into the room. “Would you, my dear?” he drawled. “That would be most unwise-to kill your own husband.”

“Saltaire.” There was a wealth of longing, mingled with disbelief in the word.

“The same,” he agreed.

Lavinia got to her feet, tears pouring down her race, “Oh Saltaire, you came. Thank goodness.” She dropped the pistol and ran towards him on unsteady feet, and to her amazement, found herself gathered up and crushed against his chest.

His voice was curiously muffled, “Oh Lavinia, my love, how can you ever forgive me? Did you really doubt that I would scour the world for you? Foolish girl.”

She was too bemused to take in anything other than the reality or his presence. As his words penetrated, she glanced up quickly and was rewarded with a look so charged with love and passion that it seemed to melt the last vestige of cold from her bones. She tried to bury her head against his chest, her cheeks hot at the audacity of her own behaviour, but he would not let her.

Firm fingers gripped her chin, turning her race up to his oddly hungry gaze. As he stared down into her eyes, his own were for once mirroring his true feelings. Suddenly shy, and her heart thumping, dizzy with the knowledge of the love she saw there, she dropped her eyes, to hear him whisper huskily against her hair. “I don’t deserve you, Lavinia. God knows I’ve been every sort of a fool. A man in love with his own wife and too blind to see it.” For a second the old derision was plainly audible in his voice, before it dropped, husky with emotion. “Make sure this is what you want, Lavinia, for I warn you, once you come to me willingly, I shall never let you go. If you wish I shall take you to your cousin and …”

Impetuously she stifled his words with her hand, unable to bear the torment in his face, which was for once stripped of its habitual mask, the angles thrown sharply into relief. Shyly she placed her arms round his neck, his harsh indrawn breath striking an echoing chord deep within her, so that she trembled against him. There was no need for words; it was all therein her eyes for him to read. For a second he stood absolutely still, looking at her as though he could never bear to take his eyes from her. A muscle quivered in his jaw, his arms tightened around her, his voice a muffled sigh against her mouth, before she was swept away on an ever increasing tide of passion, abandoning herself completely to the wonder of his kiss. There was a wild tumultuous singing in her blood, as the last doubts dropped from her; a fierce surging need, transcending every other thought but the desire for him. The small mean dwelling faded from her sight, there was only the wonder of his lips on hers. Her passionate response swept away the last of his restraint, and it seemed to Lavinia that her very bones seemed to melt within her, as desire, molten and fluid pulsed through her veins. Time ceased to exist.

It was he who came to his senses first, dragging his mouth reluctantly from hers, his hands trembling as he put her from him, shaking his head ruefully. “With you in my arms, I am lost to all sensible thought.” She dimpled up at him, savouring the intoxicating delight of his words, tilting her head back to look into his eyes, glorying in the knowledge of his love for her. All the misery and unhappiness she had experienced dropped away as though it had never existed. With trembling fingers she touched his face, driven by some compulsion she could not explain, catching her breath as he captured her fingers.

He bestowed a warm kiss in the palm of her hand, a thread of amusement in his voice. “Lavinia, my love, I have little desire to spend what is left of the night here, but if you insist upon looking at me like that I very much fear I will have no alternative.”

She flushed in happy confusion. unable to still the hurried thudding of her heart, as he drew her back within the circle of his arms, his mouth lingering gently on her hair.

“So tell me, Madam Wife, do you love me?”

There was a resurgence of the old Saltaire in the words, but now Lavinia was not afraid.

“Can you doubt it, Sir?”

The expression in his eyes made her pulse race madly. “Oh, Lavinia. ” In an instant she was caught up against him, her heartbeat echoing the fast tempo of his own, as his lips drifted gently, and then not so gently, across her face, before returning to claim her lips with an urgency that left her breathless. Willingly she submitted to their fierce demanding pressure, conscious only of an overpowering need to be held ever closer to him.

When at last he released her, they were both shaking Lavinia’s eyes shining, her lips soft and tender. His smile was rueful as he raised his hand to caress the tumbled chestnut curls, and for the first time she saw the bandage round his wrist.

“Saltaire, what have you done?” she whispered, fear for him piercing her with agonising sharpness.

He shrugged. “Nothing, a slight wound that is all.”

“Andover?” she asked uncertainly.

If she had doubted his love for her, the raw emotion in his voice when he asked, “Does he matter so much to you then?” would have been sufficient to reassure her. She shook her head, her senses thrilling to this fresh evidence of his love.

“He means nothing to me, Saltaire,” she said in a simple voice, “It is just that I do not like to think of his death at your hands.”

He smiled. “Then do not, for he is very much alive.” His smile deepened a fraction, “By the way,” he teased, “Don’t you think it’s time you called me by my name, I do have one you know.

She laughed breathlessly, suddenly shy, before whispering, “Very well, Gilles.” She half-murmured a small protest as with ruthless disregard for her blushes, he swept her back into his arms, his mouth against her ear.

“Well, do you come with me then?”

Despite the lightness of the words, she could feel his tension, as the dizzying knowledge of the extent of his love coursed through her. Her heart in her eyes, she replied softly, “Yes, Gilles, to the ends of the earth if necessary.”

For a second he looked deep into her eyes, and as if satisfied with what he found there, he laughed gently, “Not that far, my love, just to Grosvenor Square.”

Without more ado he led her to the waiting horse, his face darkening as she shivered slightly in the cold, and a fierce tremor of delight going through her as she saw his anger. “Come, you are frozen, brute that I am, I should have noticed it before. I fear I have only the one horse.”

For a second a cold chill struck her heart. “Didn’t you expect to find me?”

She waited breathlessly for his reply, and in a second was swept back into his arms. “I could not afford the time it would have taken to harness up the chaise. N She hid her face against his chest, conscious in the sudden trembling of his body, of the anguish he had been through. He released her, endeavouring to reach a lighter note. “Besides what could be more romantic.”

Lavinia laughed, albeit a little shakily, her common sense coming to his aid. ‘”Like the time you abducted me, only I seem to recall on that occasion you had little time for romance.”

There was a sudden gleam in his eyes that brought the colour flooding back into her face, before he pulled his cloak firmly round her and held her tenderly to him.

When they reached Grosvenor Square, Lavinia stirred in the Earl’s arms, savouring the warmth of his body, as she nestled closer to him. lt seemed to her dazzled eyes that every room in the house was ablaze with candles.

Kitty came rushing out of the door, exclaiming in distress at the state of her gown and embracing her warmly, traces of tears plainly evident on her pretty face. “Oh Lavinia, thank goodness. Richard,” she called, “She is safe.”

Richard took his sister from the Earl, helping her inside. “l have dismissed the servants for the night. I thought it best because of the gossip.”

The Earl nodded his approval. “Thank you, Richard. You have done well.”

He turned to his wife. a look upon his face that made the impressionable Kitty catch her breath on a sigh. She motioned to Richard, and he, correctly interpreting her glance, stepped forward. “lf you will forgive us, Saltaire. Kitty and I will seek our beds, it has been a long night.”

They were alone in the same room in which she had seen him that first time. Her heart jumped nervously, as suddenly self-conscious she faced him.

“Well, my love, no regrets? You are content to place yourself unconditionally in my hands.”

Tears stung her eyes, and without being aware of moving, she was across the intervening space and in his arms. “No regrets, Gilles,” she whispered.

“That is just as well, for I warn you, I have no intention of letting you go.”

Wordlessly she clung to him, and the arms that held her were all that she had hoped they would be, a haven in which she was protected from all harm by the strength of his love. She shivered and instantly his arms tightened.

As if reading her thoughts, he murmured, “When I think of how near I came to losing you …”

The eyes she raised to his face were soft with love. Then his mouth was on hers, warm and tender, yet potent and thrilling, stirring her to the very depths of her being, and making her aware of him with every fibre of her body. His touch ignited fires within her she had not known she possessed, until there was nothing but him and their love.