Drake's Lair (34 page)

“I’ve wanted to die for years—went to war expecting to die. That’s why I didn’t take Griggs. I knew he would have died himself to protect me. I didn’t want to be protected. I wanted to die a noble death—a death that meant something, since my life hadn’t been worth a Tinker’s dam. Then, when I got there—away from all this here—I realized that she wasn’t worth dying over. There would be no noble death unless I earned it, and I turned my rage on the enemy, and tried for all I was worth to stay alive. I didn’t think I deserved to die, if that makes any sense. Well, I came close, but somehow I survived, until Jim gave me another crack at it. Then, that night, when I wasn’t even conscious, I heard your voice talking to me, telling me about your home, how much you loved the land. You gave me a glimpse inside yourself—took me to a place I knew I had to be. That night, I knew I had to have you at any cost… no matter how I had to change… what I had to do.”

“Drake, you are a gentleman, and I—”

“You are a lady, Melly.”

“I haven’t lived that life—not really. I wouldn’t fit in with your peers. I wouldn’t know how. I don’t even want to. I’ve become someone… else.”

“And I am in love with the woman you have become. I don’t need the
ton
, Melly—not if it means losing you. What have the aristocracy ever done for me? I just told you what it is that I need. But I won’t settle for less. I’ve had less.”

“Drake, you are a man of the world, and I am… just look at me! Look at you, and look at me. I would disgrace you.”

“Disgrace me?” He threw his head back and popped a deep, hearty laugh. “Silly goose, have you no idea how beautiful you are? I could hardly take my eyes off you all night. That color blue becomes you so. You have exquisite taste. You look… radiant.”

He found her lips again, opening her mouth to admit his tongue, and his husky moan filled her, vibrating to the very depths of her, stirring the butterflies that rushed through her body helter-skelter stirring the icy-hot sensation that tampered with her balance. He was aroused, and she rocked back on her heels as the turgid pressure of his hardness leaned against her.

“Drake…” she murmured, gasping for air as their lips parted, though he held her still.

“I’m asking you to be my wife, Melly,” he said thickly. “Tell me I didn’t dream your love that night. Tell me what I felt was real.”

The moon had risen, full and clear. Were those tears in his eyes, glistening in the moonlight? Her heart was pounding. No, it hadn’t been a dream.

She reached to stroke his face. That was all it took. He crushed her so close she could scarcely breathe. Lifting her off the floor, he spun her in circles, and when her feet touched the ground again, her head was spinning—reeling with the intoxicating scent of him, the taste of him, his unforgettable male essence heightened with arousal that had teased her memory since the first time he’d kissed her.

Reaching inside his waistcoat pocket, he produced a flat velvet case, opened it, and placed it in her hands. She gazed down at the diamond alive with flash and light in the moon glow. Lifting it out of the case, he fastened it around her neck.

“I’ve envisioned this in the hollow of that exquisite throat, since you set foot in this house,” he murmured, brushing the swell of her breast with the back of his fingers as he drew his hand away. The feather-light touch aroused her. Totally. “The Shelldrake diamond,” he explained. “It was created to live there.”

“I-it’s exquisite, but—”

“No ‘but’,” he interrupted, drawing her to him again. “Say you’ll marry me, Melly. Say it.
Yes, Drake, I will marry you
. Say it!”

She gazed up into the strange, blue-white eyes that seemed lit from behind by an inner light radiating from deep beneath the shadow of his brow. They hypnotized her. Could she live without this strange madman—this enigmatic phantom that had stolen her heart—mated with her soul?

No.

“Y-yes, Drake,” she murmured, dazed and breathless. “God help me, I will.”

He drew her to him softly then, and she trembled under the tender pressure of his hands drawing her closer still. Every sinew in him vibrated against her, and his heart was thumping wildly against her breast. Taking her face in both his hands, he kissed her so gently, she begged for more, but he held her away, his fingers buried deep in her ringlets.

“Once this business with Jim is over and done, I will apply for a special license,” he murmured. “Now I want you to go up to your suite while I can still put you from me, and this time, do as I asked you, Melly. Help me do this one thing right. You have bewitched me. Lock that deuced door.”

Twenty-Four

With a spring in his step that had been absent for years, Drake approached the drawing room, where Bradshaw and Redmond had repaired for brandy and cigars. He had something to celebrate now, and he strode briskly through the doorway, only to crash head-on into Redmond sprinting toward the Great Hall.

“What’s happened?” he queried, steadying him, the Runner’s stern-faced frown and Bradshaw’s faded complexion demanding an explanation.

“I must go into the village, my lord,” Redmond said, surging past him.

“Wait!” Drake called after him, trying to catch up. In spite of the bold façade he’d adopted to reassure Melly, he was still prone to bouts of vertigo and double vision. Only then did he notice two missives in the Runner’s hand. “What are those?” he insisted, putting himself in the man’s path.

“I really haven’t time to explain,” Redmond hedged. “Besides, I need to look into the matter before I comment, my lord. Suffice it to say that they need my immediate attention. I must ask you to please stand aside.”

“Those missives evidently arrived after I left you in the dining hall,” Drake said steadily, “and I will be privy to whatever comes through those doors.” He gestured roughly toward the entrance at the end of the corridor. “Now then, I shall ask you again, sir, what the missives contain? This is still my house, regardless of who occupies it, and why.”

“Very well, my lord,” the Runner responded curtly, holding up the parchments. “These came together. Since you insist upon wasting precious time, this, here is a message from Bow Street, delivered just after you left us. It came by special messenger. Ellery never appeared at the townhouse, but he evidently was in the area, and Runners will be watching the residence until he’s caught. He sold your Andalusian in Salisbury.”

“
Salisbury
? What the devil was he doing in Salisbury?”

“Judging from the time frame, he was probably on his way back here, since his plans in London were thwarted.”

“And the other?” Drake pressed, gesturing toward the smaller parchment.

“This was addressed to Lady Ahern. I took the liberty of opening it, considering the situation. It’s from a Bessie Terrill, asking that she come at once. It seems there’s a fire in the Tinker’s camp, and her ointments are needed. The same messenger brought both. I’m on my way to investigate. It seems to me that there are just too many fires hereabouts to be coincidental.”

Drake snatched the missive, and glanced over Bessie’s crooked scrawl. He was just about to comment, when a pounding at the doors sent them all running to answer. Drake reached them before the footman, and flung them open to a soot-streaked groom from the coaching station in the village.

“What the deuce?” he muttered low-voice.

“What is it, boy?” the Runner demanded, pushing past Drake in the doorway.

“Ya’ said to come here after ya’ if any trouble come,” the boy panted. “Station master said ta tell ya’, there’s a fire in the Gypsy camp.”

“When did it start?” The Runner queried.

“Just now, it started, sir, I come straightaway.”

“Very well, I shall follow directly,” Redmond said, dismissing the boy.

“How can that be?” Drake questioned, holding the Runner back. “If the fire just now started, how is it that Bessie’s missive came over an hour ago? And how is it that it came from Bessie, and not Dr. Hale? There’s something foul afoot here. Bessie Terrill would never deliberately put Melly in danger—send for her at this hour with Hale right there in the village.”

“Can you vouch for the woman’s handwriting, my lord?” said the Runner.

“Hardly. I wasn’t even aware that she could write.”

“I’ll soon get to the bottom of this,” Redmond said, set in motion.

“I’m going with you,” Drake insisted, sprinting after him.

“You aren’t anywhere near fit to ride, my lord, you’re scarcely out of bed.” The Runner protested.

“I am going with you,” Drake pronounced unequivocally. And they both ran off toward the stables leaving Bradshaw staring slack-jawed on the doorstep.

*

Ellery watched hidden in the thicket at the edge of the wood beside the stables, as Drake and the Runner rode off toward the village at a gallop. He was marginally relieved. At least he wasn’t wanted for murder. This isn’t quite how he’d planned it, but he had to admit that providence had once more served him remarkably well.

The events at Drake’s Lair were always the topic of gossip throughout the parish. He learned Demelza’s whereabouts at a public house in the hills, eavesdropping on loose-mouthed patrons dining there. He meant to lure her away from the estate with the missive, counting upon her fondness for the Tinkers to bring her without hesitation. But this was even better. She was alone at the house now, without Drake to protect her. Who would prevent him from spiriting her away, certainly not Griggs, or Prowse, Mrs. Laity, or any of the buffleheaded footmen? If he were very careful, none of them would even know. He would have her out of there and away before she was even missed. They wouldn’t be looking for her until morning. By then, he would have relieved her of her blunt. Then, he could leave the country, with or without the chit.

The last place anyone expected him to be was Drake’s Lair. That was obvious, or Drake would never have left her. Nevertheless, he would move cautiously. There was no need for haste after all. The fire would occupy them for some time. He waited for a cloudbank he’d been watching drift lazily across the night sky to hide the moon, before he streaked across the lawn to the study, but he pulled up short when he reached it. What was this? Drake
was
mad if he was building… what was it, a greenhouse, a conservatory… no, a
herbarium
, for Demelza, of course. He’d arrived just in time, before the glass was in place, while he could just walk right in.

*

The fire was raging by the time Drake and the Runner reached the village. Redmond went straight to the Tinkers’ camp, but Drake rode to the Terrill Croft, slid off his horse, and pounded frantically on the door calling Bessie at the top of his voice.

“M-my lord!” she breathed, throwing the door open to him.

“I’m sorry, Bessie,” he panted, out of breath, “I need to know… did you send this?” He handed her the wrinkled missive and waited while she studied it.

“Why, no, my lord,” she said, clearly puzzled.

“You’re sure you didn’t write that? It was delivered by messenger to the house over an hour ago.”

“‘Twasn’t me, my lord. I can’t read, nor write. ‘Twas only a few minutes ago that Will woke me to let me know he was going to help put out a fire what just started out at the Tinker’s camp. Is something wrong, my lord? We heard you was bad. You don’t look too steady. Do you want to come in and sit down for a bit? I can fix you a nice cup o’ tea.”

“I can’t, Bessie. I have to get back. I want you to lock this door, and don’t open it to anyone but Will or Mr. Redmond, the Bow Street Runner. You know him, don’t you, Bessie? He’s been questioning everyone hereabouts for days.”

“Y-yes, my lord,” she stammered. “W-what is it? You’re scarin’ me now!”

She was backing away from him. There was terror in her eyes. Had she heard the rumors of his madness? She must have, and he hadn’t helped matters barging in on her in the middle of the night. It couldn’t be helped.

“I believe Mr. Ellery sent this to Drake’s Lair to lure Melly away from the manor,” he said. “I haven’t time to explain. Mr. Redmond is at the Tinkers camp. He will come here straightaway looking for me after the investigation, because of this.” He held up the missive clenched in his fist. “Was anyone hurt out at the camp?”

“I dunno’, my lord,” she whined. “Like I said, Will just woke me.”

“All right, when Mr. Redmond comes, tell him I’ve gone back to Drake’s Lair, and that he is to follow at once. If Will should come first, send him for Redmond with that message straightaway. Am I plain? It’s important, Bessie. Miss Melly’s life could well depend upon it.”

He didn’t wait for a verbal answer, her nervous nod sufficed. Bolting back down the walk, he mounted his snorting Andalusian, and rode off into the smoke-filled darkness.

*

Melly was too exhilarated to sleep. Drake had asked her to
marry
him. And she had accepted.

She was still wearing her blue voile frock, and the Shelldrake diamond. Tomorrow she would insist that Drake put it back in the chest. But tonight, oh,
tonight
, she would wear it—touch it—sleep in it. Not because of what it was, because of why it was around her neck, resting where he’d placed it, in the hollow of her throat.

She hugged herself and spun around and around, closed her eyes and spun again, this time she nearly upset the gateleg table—candle branch and all—bumping into it in her giddy, whirling blindness. She stopped and steadied it. Mustn’t wake Zoe.

She hadn’t locked the door half-hoping he would prowl the third floor corridor again, lift the gilded door handle, and enter in. It was a pleasant fantasy. The ghost of his scent still teased her nostrils. The taste of him haunted her. The rhythm of his heartbeat still echoed through her body, waking the butterflies—swarms of them—droves of them—
herds
of them, if such a thing could be.

When the door handle turned, she didn’t wait for Drake to enter, she ran to it, and flung the door wide. But it wasn’t Drake on the threshold, it was Ellery, and before she could scream, he’d clamped his hand over her mouth, dragged her back inside then shut the door, and locked it behind him.