Lovers Forever (36 page)

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Authors: Shirlee Busbee

BOOK: Lovers Forever
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Nick laughed and swept her up in his arms, swinging her around. “I swear it, Madame Wife! Your wish shall be my command.” He set her on her feet. Then, looking at the two men, he said, “Well, shall we set events into motion?”
A few minutes later the room was empty except for the three ladies. Her face anxious, Tess said uneasily, “Oh, Aunt Meg, I hope I've done the right thing. I'll never forgive myself if something happens to him.”
“And what do you think you could do to prevent it, if you were with him?” she asked dryly. “Throw yourself in front of him and take the bullet, knife, or blow meant for him? That would certainly accomplish a lot, wouldn't it? Instead of just one of you being hurt, you both might come to grief.”
There was no arguing with Aunt Meg's logic, but Tess couldn't help saying stubbornly, “I wouldn't have been totally useless—I might have been able to warn him of danger, and if we were attacked, I could help him fight off the smugglers.”
Aunt Meg snorted. “Distract him from what needs to be done, more likely!”
“Oh, stop it, you two,” Hetty said sharply. “Don't we have enough on our minds without discussing all that can go wrong? Isn't it enough that Alexander . . . and the others, too, of course, are risking their lives chasing after those wretched smugglers?”
“Who
is chasing after wretched smugglers?” Pallas asked lightly as she entered the room. She glanced around in puzzlement. “My goodness, didn't Bellingham show you to the front salon? I can't imagine what he was thinking, bringing you in here to Nicolas's study.”
There was a tense moment as the three other ladies exchanged glances. How much to tell Lady Sherbourne?
“Er, Nicolas and my uncles were here earlier and, um, we had joined them,” Tess said hastily.
Pallas studied Tess's young face for a long moment. “And?”
Tess threw a troubled look to her aunts and then, taking a deep breath, said, “Won't you please sit down and have some tea? There was an, um, incident last night at the cottage where my uncles were staying, and the gentlemen have gone to investigate.”
Pallas's considering stare moved slowly from one face to the other. After seating herself on one of the black leather chairs near the desk and carefully arranging the folds of her pale blue gown to her satisfaction, she said in a tone that brooked no opposition, “Tell me.”
Tess swallowed and glanced to her aunts for guidance. They looked as uncertain and uncomfortable as she felt. Deciding that Nicolas's grandmother had as much a right to know what was going on as anybody else, she plunged into the story, beginning with the discovery of the cellars and Nick's brush with the smugglers. She told the tale hurriedly, but she left out none of the pertinent facts.
When Tess finished speaking, it was clear that Pallas was horrified and appalled by what she had heard . . . and very worried about Nick. Keeping a rigid command of her emotions, though, she said calmly enough, “And Nick has gone now to explore these cellars?”
Tess nodded, hoping she had done the right thing by telling her everything and wishing there was some way she could wipe off that taut, stricken expression from Pallas's face.
Pallas took a deep breath, fighting for composure. Finally gaining some mastery over the anxious emotions that churned in her breast, she muttered, “I knew I should have had those blasted passages destroyed years ago! And to think that a nest of vipers has been nurturing itself right here at my very door!”
“You know about the cellars?” Tess asked in astonishment.
Pallas smiled thinly. “Oh, yes, my dear, I know about those cellars....” The words hung in the air, and then she seemed to shake off some of her fears for Nick. Sitting up straighter on her chair, she said briskly, “Well, there doesn't seem to be anything that we can do about the situation at the moment—Nick knows how to take care of himself. And since the gentlemen seem to have abandoned us for the time being, I propose that you ladies allow me to give you a tour of the house—it will, I hope,” she added with a faint, unhappy smile at Tess, “help keep our minds off what the gentlemen are doing.”
Rising regally to her feet, Pallas said bluntly, “I must say that this is certainly an odd way to spend one's honeymoon! But since nothing else about your marriage has been exactly conventional, I'm not at all surprised that your husband has gone off to chase after smugglers instead of doting on his charming bride.” Her smile faded, and she sighed. “I had so hoped that Nick had outgrown these fits and starts, that once his army days were behind him, my worries about him would be over. But it seems I was mistaken. Well, there is no use pining over it—he has always gone his own way.” Tucking Tess's hand beneath her arm, she said kindly, “Come along, my dear—now that Sherbourne Court is going to be your home, I think you'll find the place very much to your liking. I know that I have.”
Pallas kept up a stream of pleasant conversation as they moved out of the room, and Tess knew that she was trying to keep her mind off Nick and the danger he might be facing. For that same reason, she tried hard to concentrate on what Pallas was saying. But as they walked down the wide hallways of the palatial house, Hetty and Meg following in their wake, her thoughts kept straying to her husband.... What was he doing? Had the smugglers returned? Was Nick safe?
As it happened, at that moment Nick had events well in hand. The servants at the cottage were busily packing and preparing to close up the house as he had ordered. Adding John Laidlaw to their party, armed with pistols and lanterns, the four men had cautiously descended into the cellars to begin their exploration.
The cellars proved far more extensive and convoluted than Nicolas had ever imagined. Deciding at the onset that the wisest course would be to keep together in case of an unexpected meeting with the smugglers, they spent several fruitless hours wandering down first one passage and then another. Some of the corridors ended abruptly in a blank wall; others were much smaller tunnels, more roughly hewn, which angled off in all different directions. Several times, after traversing endlessly this way and that, they found themselves led back to where they'd begun. The place, Nicolas thought disgustedly, was a damned maze!
They lost all track of time down there in the bowels of the earth, their only light the flickering blaze of the lanterns they carried, and it wasn't until Nick's stomach gave a loud, forceful growl that he realized the hour must have grown quite late. A check of the baron's pocket watch revealed that it was well after nine o'clock—they had been wandering in the cellars for over six hours.
Nick called a halt to their explorations, and somewhat dispiritedly they made the long, circuitous walk back to the main room. The hours had not been a complete loss, though—they now knew and had marked clearly which corridors terminated in dead ends. They had also found ample evidence that the passages were well used. The floors were worn smooth over the years by the passing of many feet, and the smugglers had left behind an occasional empty wine bottle and several half-burnt candles and ropes and canvasses.
Exploring the cellars was not going to be the simple task he had first envisioned, and as they rode slowly back through the star-studded darkness toward the court, Nick decided that on the morrow he would concentrate his efforts on discovering the passage his attacker must have taken the night he had been struck down. The place had been like a rat warren, and it was possible that the smugglers had provided themselves with many different escape routes in case they were ever tracked to their lair.
It was after ten o'clock that evening when, filthy, tired, and hungry, they finally reached the court. Telling Bellingham to let his grandmother and wife know immediately that they had all returned safely, Nicolas dismissed John Laidlaw for the night and saw to it that the Rockwells were amply provided with food and drink and were comfortably settled in their rooms before considering his own needs.
His duties as host taken care of, Nick retreated eagerly to his own bedchamber to bathe and change clothes. The hot, steaming bath kept in readiness in his dressing room by Lovejoy revived him somewhat—as did the huge tray of bite-size sandwiches filled with fresh country cheese and thinly sliced smoked ham. The glass or two of port that he drank as he ate, as well as the pleasing knowledge that he would see his bride in a few minutes, had helped enormously to restore his spirits, and by the time he had dismissed Lovejoy and left his rooms, he was feeling much refreshed.
Meeting Rockwell and Alexander on the stairs, the three men descended together and went in search of the ladies. Despite the lateness of the hour and the fact that his grandmother usually went to bed early, Nick wasn't surprised to find all four ladies waiting impatiently for them in the blue salon. Nor was he surprised that they were bombarded with questions the moment they stepped into the room.
Laughing slightly, Nicolas held up a hand. “Please! One question at a time.”
“That's all very well for you to say,” snapped his grandmother, her face showing the strain she had been under. “You haven't been the one sitting here patiently all day wondering if you were still alive!”
Tess was standing behind his grandmother, her hands resting on the top of the chair in which Pallas sat. “You have been gone a dreadfully long time,” she said softly, her eyes betraying her delight at seeing him. “Your grandmother was nearly sick with worry.”
Nick smiled slightly and crossed to stand in front of Tess. He took one of her hands in his and brushed a kiss across her wrist. “And you, sweetheart?” he murmured. “Did you worry?”
Tess blushed and would not look at him. “Of course not,” she muttered. “Everyone knows that the devil always looks after his own!”
Pallas choked back a laugh. “Good for you, child! And now enough of this—tell us what you have discovered.”
Nick looked rueful. “Precious little, I'm afraid. The only useful thing we found out is that it's going to take several days to explore all the various corridors that radiate out in all directions from the main room of the cellar. It's like a rabbit warren down there! The smugglers must have been using the place for decades.”
“Never seen anything like it,” added Rockwell. “Must be dozens of tunnels. Some connect, some don't. Some go on almost endlessly, others are less than a hundred feet long, then end abruptly. Some are taller than a man, others we had to crouch down in order to traverse.”
“I'm not surprised,” Pallas said, looking at Nicolas. “Some of the original tunnels were built, I believe, to provide escape routes for priests and Catholics during Cromwell's time. Benedict's father explained to me once that they were devised to confuse and throw off any pursuit. And if, as you say, the smugglers are now using them, they have no doubt added and expanded the area.”
Nick frowned. “You
know
about the tunnels?”
Pallas shrugged. “Of course. But I'm afraid I didn't know that they had been discovered by the smugglers and were being used by them! As a matter of fact, I'd deliberately forgotten all about those wretched tunnels, until I learned where you had gone today.”
“Deliberately?” Nick asked curiously.
Pallas suddenly looked all of her eighty-three years. Glancing around at the others, she gave a bitter little laugh. “I forget all of you, except for Margaret, and she was only a child, were not even born when the great scandal took place and my husband ran off with Theresa.”
There was a sudden, shocked silence, and all eyes riveted on Pallas's worn features. She smiled painfully. “Haven't you guessed yet?” she inquired wearily. When no one replied, she sighed deeply and asked Nick, “Did you know that the cottage where Tess had been staying is situated not far from the line between the Mandeville and Talmage properties?” Nick shook his head, staring at her intently. Her voice thick with remembered pain, she said, “I understand that a short distance in on Mandeville land, there once was a hidden entrance . . . there is supposed to be another one somewhere not very far from this house.” As comprehension leaped into Nick's face, Pallas nodded and said heavily, “Yes. It was some of those very same tunnels which you explored today that your grandfather and Theresa would use to avoid prying eyes when they wanted to meet each other at their favorite trysting place . . . the gatekeeper's cottage....”
Chapter twenty-one
T
here was a short, painful silence. Everyone in the room was aware of how much it had cost this proud, frail old lady to talk so openly of the terrible scandal that had torn her life apart so many years ago. Pallas gave a twisted smile. “And now you know why I
deliberately
forgot about those blasted tunnels.”
His heart feeling as if it were being ripped in two, Nick knelt impetuously beside her chair. “Grandmother!” he cried. “Forgive me. I never guessed that . . . if I'd had any inkling, I
never
would have—”
“I know, my dear,” Pallas said gently, her blue eyes full of love for him. “Perhaps it's for the best, though—with your marriage to Tess, there is a new beginning between the Mandevilles and the Talmages. Perhaps it's time for the old scandal to be laid out in the light of day.” She smiled whimsically. “Who knows, perhaps you will discover some clue within those cellars that will reveal to us where Benedict and Theresa were going when they disappeared.”
Tess swallowed a gasp, her eyes widening, as the talk of Benedict and Theresa suddenly reminded her of the hidden diary. How could she have forgotten about it? Her only excuse, she decided, was that in all the confusion and activity surrounding the return of her memory, the aunts' arrival at the cottage, and her hasty wedding to Nick, the momentous discovery had slipped her mind. It was on the tip of her tongue to blurt out about the diary, but something held her back. It occurred to her that the contents of Benedict's diary—especially when he wrote of his fierce love for Theresa and, no doubt, their plans to run away together—would more than likely cause Lady Sherbourne more pain—something Tess, with her innate soft heart, didn't want to do. She toyed briefly with the notion of keeping her discovery a secret, of letting that little black book remain undisturbed where it had lain for nearly seventy years, but she realized that the diary might also answer the very question Lady Sherbourne had just mentioned—the destination of Nicolas's grandfather and her own great-grandmother.
No one had noticed her startled reaction, and Tess was grateful. The conversation had become more general, her darling aunt Meg quickly smoothing over the painful moment with a gentle stream of idle chatter. The others, giving Pallas time to compose herself, had quickly joined in, and the tragic subject was left behind—for the present.
There was more talk and speculation about the cellars and the owlers and what Nick and the men intended to do the next day. But while it was all very exciting, it was also quite late, and very soon, after several discreet yawns, the group broke up. They all ascended the broad staircase together.
Being Nick's bride was a new sensation for Tess, and when he bade the others good night and opened the door to her rooms, coolly following behind her, she couldn't control the blush that stained her cheeks. With her heart beating faster, she watched as he shut the door and then turned, leaning his broad shoulders back against it and just looking at her.
“And now,” he said softly, a glitter in his eyes that made her heart nearly race out of control, “for the moment I have been waiting for since I left your bed this morning.” He pulled her effortlessly into his arms and kissed her as if he were starving for her. “God!” he said against her lips several moments later, “I've missed you, sweetheart—and I've begun to see the wisdom of a honeymoon.”
“Oh,” Tess murmured dreamily, her thoughts fuzzy, her lips stinging from his hungry kiss. “Why is that?”
“Because,” he said thickly, his hands settling on her hips, moving her erotically against the hard bulge in his breeches, “we could lie abed the entire time, and I could make love to you endlessly. No grandmother. No aunts. No uncles. Just you and me....” He sent her a bone-melting smile. “And a bed, a very
big
bed, with the softest feather mattress to be found in the kingdom.” He bent his head and kissed her again, his tongue surging warmly into her eager mouth. For a while the diary and the question of what to do about it disappeared utterly from her thoughts.
It was some time later, after Nick had stripped her naked and had shown her precisely how much he had missed her, that the diary came floating back into her brain. They were lying in the middle of her bed, and she had no clear memory of how they had gotten there. Her body was gradually returning to normal after Nick's passionate lovemaking when she suddenly remembered the diary. She shot upright in bed and stared at him, an appalled expression on her face as she blurted out, “Oh, my heavens! I forgot
again
.”
“Hmm, and what have you forgotten again?” he asked idly, too sated and content to take a great deal of interest in what she was saying.
“The
diary
!” she exclaimed. “I forgot to tell you about the diary I found hidden behind one of the stones in the fireplace in my bedroom at the gatekeeper's cottage. Your grandfather's diary!”
It took her a few minutes to tell the tale, as Nick's impatient interruptions slowed her recital. By the time she was finished, all signs of his earlier contentment had vanished. In fact, he was fairly scowling at her.
“Why the devil didn't you say something earlier?” he demanded with an edge to his voice. Sitting upright beside her, he ran an agitated hand through his hair. “I can understand you not saying anything downstairs tonight,” he added in a less accusatory tone. “In fact, that was very wise of you. But dash it! You should have said something
days
ago.” He threw her a dark look and growled, “Do you know how important that little book might be?
If
it is indeed my grandfather's diary. Dammit, Tess! You should have told me about it much sooner.”
“Well, I'm afraid I had other things on my mind,” she said tartly. “Nearly getting murdered, getting my memory back . . . getting married, making love to you, things like that.”
His mood changed in an instant, the irritation dying out of his face as he laughed. Catching hold of her he lay back, pulling her down into the pillows with him. Sprawled across his chest, her fiery hair tumbling in charming disarray around her lovely face, she regarded him uncertainly. He smiled lazily up at her. Brushing back a strand of her hair, his hand lingering against her cheek, he murmured, “Hmm, yes. I think I understand how those sort of things could, ah, distract a person.”
“Yes, I thought perhaps you would understand, when you'd thought about it for a minute,” Tess returned breathlessly, her skin beginning to tingle when his wandering hand traveled down her spine to fondle and explore her buttocks. To her unashamed delight, she could feel him stirring once more, his staff lengthening and hardening against her thighs even as they spoke.
“And since,” he muttered, his mouth just barely touching hers, “it is too late to do anything about the diary tonight . . . I guess we'll just have to find something to do to amuse ourselves until the morning....” His lips caught hers, and Tess didn't give the diary another thought that night. Nor, it might be added, did her extremely virile and nearly insatiable husband.
At first light, however, Nick gently woke Tess. She blinked at him sleepily, surprised to find that he was already dressed for the day.
“Tell me again about the diary, sweetheart,” he said softly. “Exactly where that stone is situated.”
“I'll go with you,” she declared eagerly, pushing her hair from her eyes and preparing to get out of bed. “It'll only take me a moment to find something to wear.”
“No. I don't want you stepping foot in that place until I know it's safe. Now tell me what I want to know. I can be there and back before anyone knows I've gone.”
Her lips set in a mutinous line. Ignoring him, Tess shrugged into a silk wrapper that was lying across the foot of the mattress and crossed to her dressing room. Heedless of him following in her wake with a frown beginning to form on his handsome face, she poured some water from the china pitcher and washed her face. Cleaning her teeth came next and, after that, brushing her hair, while Nick stood and watched with growing impatience.
“You're not going to go with me!” he said grimly when she began to pull on her clothing, a full-skirted jonquil-striped muslin gown.
“Yes, I am,” his wife returned confidently. “Because I'm
not
telling which stone! However,” she added kindly as she tied her hair back with a ribbon, “if you want to spend several fruitless hours attempting to dismantle the fireplace, that's fine with me.”
“Did no one ever beat you when you were a child?” he asked dangerously.
Tess smiled sunnily at him and rose on her toes to press a brief kiss on his chin. “Of course not. They all thought that it might damage my tender spirits.” Ignoring his scowl, she flung a fine wool cloak around her shoulders and said, “Now let's go!”
With her husband following closely behind her, muttering about the dire consequences of
not
applying the rod to a certain backside, Tess hurried down the stairs. She stopped suddenly when she reached the grand black-and-white-tiled marble entry hall. Flashing Nick a demure glance, she offered sweetly, “Perhaps you would care to lead the way to the stables? I'm afraid that I don't know where they are.”
Nick choked back a laugh, unable to remain at odds with her for very long. With a twinkle in his black eyes, he murmured, “Well, I'm pleased that you'll allow that I have some uses.”
Tess blushed, memory of some of his decidedly erotic uses suddenly flitting across her mind. He watched the blush climbing higher in her cheeks with interest. Correctly guessing the cause, he said softly, “Other uses besides those.”
Tess looked away, unable to bear the teasing scrutiny of those wickedly knowing eyes a moment longer. Clearing her throat, she muttered, “Shouldn't we be going?”
Nick laughed under his breath and resisted the urge to tease her further. Taking her arm, he said, “Of course. Whatever madame wishes.”
The stables consisted of a long, steep-roofed building some distance from the main house. From its size it appeared obvious that the earl kept a large stable, and this fact was confirmed when they entered the building and Tess glimpsed the lengthy row of spacious box stalls. A confirmed horse lover, she found the odor of sweet hay and horses and leather intoxicating. They were greeted by a chorus of soft nickers, and silken heads in a variety of colors—chestnuts, bays, and blacks—appeared over the top half of several of the stall doors. Tess was enchanted.
“Oh, they're lovely, aren't they?” she crooned, walking over to stroke the lowered head of a fine bay mare.
“I like to think so,” Nicolas replied, looking around to see if any of the stable servants were about. It was barely daylight, but he wasn't surprised to see a lone, sleepy-eyed stable boy walking quickly toward them.
“My lord!” cried the startled young man. “We weren't expecting you. Shall I call the stable master?”
Nick shook his head and explained their needs. Curiosity evident in his face, the boy hurried to saddle a pair of horses.
Left to her own devices, Tess wandered happily down the long aisle, stopping to pet and murmur first to this horse and then to that. She was about halfway down the row when she stopped abruptly, staring in shocked disbelief at the small horse in one particular stall. The animal looked very familiar, too familiar. She stepped closer to the stall and took a longer, more thorough look. The horse was obviously of good breeding, but it was the small white star in the middle of its forehead and the white hind foot that made her heart catch in her throat. The fact that the small chestnut gelding seemed inordinately glad to see her, nuzzling her hand and whickering in that low tone reserved only for her, confirmed her suspicions. It was Fireball—the horse she had been riding the night she had met the smugglers!
Her thoughts racing, she stared at the gelding. How had he gotten here? The last she'd seen of Fireball, he'd been in the hands of the smugglers....
Nick's sudden appearance at her shoulder made her jump, and she let out a small squeak of surprise. “Sorry,” he said, smiling down at her when she spun around to face him. “I didn't mean to frighten you, but our horses are ready.”

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