Cecilia's Claim (5 page)

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True to her promise to herself, Cecy woke early and once more looked
out at the pearly sky. The day beckoned and she gave in. With only a cursory
wash she dressed quickly, left a short note for the housekeeper. Snatching up
her pelisse and a warm shawl, Cecy walked down the stairs and left the house.

Which way should she walk? A seagull wheeled overhead squawking at
her in indignation when it realized she wasn't a source of food. It flew away
eastwards toward the estuary mouth, and made her mind up for her. She turned
right and began to walk along the track toward the river beach.

As the night sky cleared the mist rose over the river. Somewhere a
curlew whistled, to be answered by a second and a third. The calls sounded
eerie in the mist and Cecy couldn't decide where any of them came from. She
shivered, and not just from the pre-dawn chill. The atmosphere was menacing,
the air still and waiting for something to happen. She mocked herself as she
strode out.
 
This was not a Gothic novel,
this was reality.

Her footsteps rang out as she walked and for one strange moment
she could have sworn they were echoed. She stopped walking. The only noise was
that of distant waves slapping against a boat's hull, and she fancied the sound
of an oar in a rowlock. Or was it? Even as she cocked her head to listen better
the noise stopped and the misty, eerie stillness surrounded her again.

Shaking her head at such fanciful notions, Cecy continued her walk
along the track, which had deteriorated into a few feet's width of mud and
sand, and now skirted the shoreline.

The blanket of white mist was smothering. Almost she felt she
should turn around, go home and save her walk for later. Some imp of devilment
propelled her forward. She had to see if there was any way to access the sea.

Humming to herself, she swung her arms the better to get some warmth
in them.

Ahead the seagull
shrieked,
a strange
two–note noise like she had never heard before.

Nothing prepared her for what happened next.

Chapter Three

Damn woman. She'll find them.
Philippe
De Caen muttered under his breath as he followed her, his careful footsteps
muffled by the sand. The whistled birdcall told him to stall her. They needed
five more minutes to hide the goods. Not for the first time he cursed the fact
that Randall Gretton had been posted to the village. Him alone would have been
bad enough, but for Randall to be accompanied by his sister was Philippe's
worst nightmare.

Grimly he remembered Caleb's words as they rested, rolled in each
other's arms the previous week.

"He's bringing her. No doubt Lord Gretton is laying down the
family law once more. We must take care."

Now he wondered just whom they must take care of; themselves or
Cecy? His was not the only smuggling ring in the
area,
indeed he was not generally working for himself, but to facilitate ease of
passage for others.
In specific for someone who wanted
Britain to proper and become a safe country.
Within his role as
smuggler's friend he walked a dangerous path. His own leader was ruthless when
necessary, but basically kind. Others were not.

Another birdcall filled the air and he knew he had to act.
Philippe moved swiftly, caught up with Cecy and lifting the lacy shawl he
carried, he flung it over her head. He muffled her surprised shout with his
hand and pressed carefully on her neck.

As she went limp, Philippe lifted her effortlessly into his arms
and strode away from the foreshore, up the hill toward the manor. Stupid woman,
how was he going to explain her abduction to her, let alone to Caleb?
Philosophical as ever, he decided he'd worry about that when the time came. There
were more pressing things to mull over. Her breast rose and fell with
an evenness
that in other circumstances he would have
marveled at. It was a surety the lady did not often have such a level demeanor.
With a ruthlessness that surprised him, he compelled his cock to remain
quiescent, as it threatened to rise to the proximity of her body crushed
against his. Now was not the time, even though he itched to touch her breasts.
Then, he decided he would nip the nubs until they stood out proud and hard. Run
his hand over her quim, tease her entrance and listen to the soft mewls and
cries she would no doubt make. Sadly, there were other, more important things
at hand.

 
He trilled a set of notes,
and paused until he heard them returned. Satisfied he continued his uphill
journey away from the river, tunnel, and caves that hid a myriad of secrets.
Half way up the steep slope his companion stirred and began to struggle and
once more he stilled her. Philippe was under no illusion how she would hate him
even more when she woke. His face grim, he turned off the track and along an
overgrown path that ran alongside a high stone wall until he came to a studded
wooden door. It was slightly ajar and the nettles and ferns growing up against
it indicated it had been so for many a year. However, he knew it was left like
that on purpose. It was in his favor that the gap between it and the wall was
just large enough for him and his burden to pass through.

Cecilia was a complication they could well do without, he thought,
as he approached the house by a slim entrance set in a side wall. What Caleb
would say or do was an unknown.

Caleb had suffered much more than Philippe over what had occurred
before, and it had been many a long month before the light she had snuffed out
reappeared in Caleb's eyes again. For the troubles at the ball to once more
bring their relationships to the notice of the ton was worse. He had thought
their swift removal from the capital would have helped to defuse the matter. If
Cecy was here he rather thought his hopes were unfounded. Philippe prayed to
god that a rerun was not about to happen. It wouldn't, not if he had any say in
the matter.

He set her to stand up against him and jigged the door handle.
As he opened the door inwards, a stab of pain in his kidneys
radiated through him.
It took his breath away and it was only with a
great effort he managed to catch hold of Cecilia's hands as she leaned in for a
second assault. The shawl had slipped and tangled around her body, and this he
thought worked in his favor.

"You cur."
Her words might be slurred,
but there was no mistaking the vehemence in them.
"Bastard."
The latter was accompanied by a lifted knee, which if her wits were about her
and she was not so unsteady could well have ended his lineage there and then.

She spoiled the action by falling into him and then sliding
gracefully down his body. Every touch sent a shaft of heat through him. Daggers
of sensations pricked and stabbed him as her breasts moved over his torso, and
then seemed to encircle his cock. She ended up with her cheek resting on his
prick. One small movement and it could just about nestle in her mouth, breeches
notwithstanding.

 
"Ah, so nice… is it
all for me?" Her tone was one of satisfied female, as she turned her head
and her lips feathered over his luckily still covered cock, and…

Sweet lord, was that a nip?
 
A
second tug on his prick confirmed it. What
?
Surely I only rendered her unconscious, not hallucinating or stupid? Or, heaven
help me, horny?

"Maybe later," he said cautiously as Cecilia continued
to play.
 
Her hands were busy at his
waistband, and under no circumstances could he let her continue. "No, not
now, let's get you inside and warm."

"Am warm."
However she stopped her
fumbling, and looked up at him. She reminded him of a baby owl, all eyes and
feathers; although in her case it was long auburn hair that surrounded the
orbs. He saw the minute her eyes cleared and awareness returned.

"You arrogant cad, you, you…" Cecilia's voice trailed
away, and she tried to scramble to her feet. Philippe caught her by the arms as
she swayed and all but fell again. There was no way he could enjoy the
closeness of her again without acting on her unspoken invitation. With an
outward show of firmness he was far from feeling he hauled her upright.

"Yes, all of those no doubt, but now is not the time to
expand on them. Come with me, and if you struggle or protest, I will cause you
to be unaware once more. Are you prepared for that? To discover what in your
insentient state you decree acceptable?"
 
He made his voice harsh, and winced at himself.

Lord, I sound like a pompous
idiot.

She was silent for a heart stopping moment. The way her chest rose
and fell so rapidly was a statement of her agitation. Eventually, just as he
felt he had no option but to coerce her, she nodded.

"It seems I have no option Monsieur Le Compte. However, I can
state now, quite categorically, you will be wise to expect a visit from my
brother, and to have chosen your seconds. He will not take such behavior
lightly." Her eyes flashed fire, and her fingers clenched in on her palms.
He was in no doubt she itched to use them on his body, preferably where they
could inflict the most damage. Equally he had no intention of letting such an
injury happen.

"So be it, and I would expect nothing less.
Although which brother I wonder?
I rather think the stuffy
idiot who is the heir would be more likely to say 'tis your bed, you lie on
it." He winced; perhaps they were not the best choice of words.
"However
'tis for both his benefit and my lord Randall's
as well as ours that you obey. Now, we go through here, take care there may
well be spiders." He opened the door wide, to let her precede him,
ignoring her shudder and muttered oath.

Cecy tapped him on his shoulder.

"Are you deaf as well as stupid? I said, Monsieur Le Compte
that this is no time to stand on ceremony. I would prefer you to precede me so
any such arachnids find your face first. Otherwise you may well have a
hysterical female on your hands. Snakes, beetles, flies, even mice and rats, I
am au fait with.
Spiders?
No, no, no, and no."

"If I go first, I will have to tie you to me," he
warned, and then wondered what her answer would be. As usual it was not as one
would expect from a lady of the ton.

"Well 'tis better than being senseless, so…" She raised
one eyebrow and then to his amazement she held her hands out to him. "Arm
to arm?
Or other areas?
I am in your hands."

It seemed Cecilia had hidden depths neither he nor Caleb knew
about. Their previous meetings may have been satisfactory, but mild in the
extreme. Not for the first time he wondered how things could have all gone so
wrong. If she could exchange innuendo at a time like this, how was it that she
wasn't prepared to experiment at all?

"Your hand will do." Swiftly he took one slender wrist
and used the thong he took from the pocket of his rough tweed jacket to bind it
to his own wrist. "Is that comfortable?"

Cecy giggled, a somewhat unexpected sound considering the
circumstance. "Well, I could say I have had better uses for my hands, but
yes it is as comfortable as I imagine it can be. What now?"

Swiftly he bound both her wrists and tugged on the knots. The gasp
she gave was not one of pain or indignation. Satisfied that there was no chance
that they might slacken, he turned his back on her and grinned, happy with that
soft noise of arousal. In the gloom there was no fear she would see his
pleasure at her reaction.

"Now we move. Give me one moment to light a candle. Hold on
for I don't wish to spill wax on you, at least not in that manner." He
ignored her outraged gasp. He was under no illusion just how unlikely that
scenario was. The river would more than likely freeze over first, and it was
tidal. It took less than a minute to scrape the tinderbox and put a taper to
the candle. The flickering light cast deep shadows along the corridor, and he
saw Cecy shudder.

"I fancy I see spiders in every nook and cranny, and all
places in between," she remarked as he towed her along the passage,
holding the candle in his free hand. "And I am quivering in
anticipation."

He could think of better things to quiver over, but judged it was
not the time to voice them. Without speaking he walked the fifty or so yards
until they reached a recessed archway with an exit within.
 
Philippe lifted the latch on the door and
stood back, ever the gentleman. Did she brush close to him on purpose? Surely
the entrance was not that narrow?

 
He ignored her exaggerated
shiver, and followed her into the antechamber.

"If you stand still I can unfasten you."

"That may well not be advisable. She has a decidedly
dangerous attitude."

The new voice had her head whipping round. Her hair fell from its
neat bun and flew in all directions, some strands, plus a couple of hairpins
teasing his cheeks. She pushed at the tresses in an impatient manner, as if she
had better things to do than worry over something so insignificant.