Swept Away (14 page)

“Shh,” he murmured. “I will not do anything you mislike.”

She knew, miserably, that her misliking it was not the problem. “But I—”

She stopped, the words dying in her throat, as he placed his lips upon her back. Gently, tenderly, he began to lay hot kisses over the smooth skin of her back. His hands came up in front to cup her breasts, and he kneaded and caressed them as his mouth explored the expanse of her back. Julia let out a noise, half sob, half moan.

“No,” she whispered. “I cannot bear it.”

“Nor I,” he replied, pulling her onto his lap so that she could feel the hard, insistent throbbing of his desire for her. “But I cannot stop, either.”

“You must.”

She could hear the rasp of his breath as he pulled down the front of her dress. It fell easily, and he pulled the sleeves off at her wrists, leaving her torso exposed to his gaze. He looked at her hungrily, his eyes glittering. His hand moved slowly over her breasts, caressing her naked skin. The night air touched her nipples, making them point saucily, and Deverel began to trace first one, then the other, with his forefinger, making them thrust out even more pointedly. Her breasts felt full and almost aching, and she knew that she wanted to feel his mouth on them again, as he had done the other night.

Finally he satisfied her desire, bending down and running his tongue around one nipple. She jerked involuntarily at the sizzle that ran through her. He teased each nipple until Julia was panting and moaning; then he pulled one of them into his mouth and began to work on it with his whole mouth, sucking and rubbing and lashing it. Julia let out a little sob and squirmed on his lap. She was pleased to note that her action brought a response from him equal to her own.

Roughly he shoved up her skirts, caressing the insides of her legs as he laved her breasts with his mouth. His hand came to rest at last on her femininity, separated from him by the cloth of her undergarment, hot and wet from the strength of her desire. He moaned against her skin, and his fingers began to move rhythmically, gently rubbing the damp cloth against Julia's tender skin.

Deverel raised his head and looked down at her. Her bare skin was palely washed with moonlight. Her luxuriant hair tumbled down, curls falling over her chest and separating across her breasts. Her nipples were swollen and ruby red from his ministrations, thrusting up invitingly at him. She moved her hips inexpertly against his hand, urging him on. He thought that he had never beheld a lovelier picture nor wanted a woman more than he did at that moment.

But he also knew that he must wait. He did not want to take her like this, hastily and clumsily in the seat of a coach. He drew a deep breath and pulled his hand away, leaning his head back against the squabs of the seat.

“Deverel?” Julia asked in a dazed voice, the tremor of desire evident in it.

He swallowed hard and ignored the unspoken plea. After a time he opened his eyes and looked at her. The sight of her was as lovely as ever. He picked up one of her curls and idly stroked it across her nipple, watching as it pebbled erotically. The sight sent a tendril of pure heat curling through his loins.

“We must stop,” he said regretfully.

That was the last thing Julia wanted at that moment. She felt as if she were made entirely of fire. Everywhere he touched her, the heat had flamed higher and higher, until she thought she might fly apart. Indeed, there was something churning in her loins already that felt perilously close to exploding.

However, she knew that he was right, and she closed her lips against the whimpers of protest that threatened to rise from her throat. He let out a groan and pulled her up against his chest, holding her so tightly she could scarcely breathe.

“Don't look at me that way, or you shall unman me,” he murmured against her hair, his voice trembling with desire. “You are the most enchanting woman I have ever seen. I have never wanted anyone as I want you.”

“Nor have I,” Julia admitted candidly, her voice coming out so hoarse and low that she scarcely knew it.

After a long moment he released her, and she turned away from him, pulling her bodice back on. He buttoned it up the back, his fingers shaking a little and getting the buttons wrong in places. Julia tumbled back onto the opposite seat and huddled into the corner, closing her eyes. She could not even look at him for fear of the desire in her leaping out again.

She had never felt so jumbled and confused in all her life. How could she have acted like such a wanton with this man? And how, having felt like this in his arms, could she now tie him up and coerce him into confessing? It was all the most horrid, muddled mess, and she did not understand how it had turned out so wrong. Her body throbbed with passion for Deverel Grey—the one man she hated above all others. Her mind seemed unable to function, for she
felt
more than thought her confusion and distress.

The coach rolled inexorably on toward home, and she wondered how in the world she was going to carry off her scheme. She was afraid that she could not. But she did not know what she would do instead. How could she tell Nunnelly to forget their plan? How could she face Phoebe and say that she had let their enemy escape solely because her own body betrayed her? And what would she say to Deverel—that it had been a mistake? That she had dragged him out here to knock him over the head, not to bed him? She wanted to burst into tears—and at the same time she wanted to throw herself across the coach into his arms and tell him to forget his sensibilities about taking her here and now.

She felt the carriage slow and turn down a lane, and before long their way became rougher and slower. They were nearing the hut. Julia sat up, swallowing hard. She glanced at Deverel, her stomach knotting. His eyes were open, and he was watching her, but she could not read his face. She wondered what he would say if he had any idea what was in her head.

She would have to abandon her plan. She called herself a coward and a fool, but she knew that she could not go through with it. As soon as the carriage stopped, she would tell Nunnelly to forget her instructions. Then she would somehow convince Deverel to get back in the carriage and return to London. She would stay here at home, for she could not face Phoebe or anyone else.

The carriage rocked and bounced to a halt. Deverel immediately reached out and whipped open the door. He jumped down from the coach and turned to help Julia. She followed more slowly, trying to think what to say to both him and Nunnelly. She leaned out of the doorway, reaching down to take his hand. Suddenly a dark figure loomed up behind Deverel. Julia gasped, crying out, “No!”

But at that moment Nunnelly swung down hard with a cudgel, cracking it into the back of Stonehaven's head. Deverel crumpled to the ground.

J
ulia let out a shriek and jumped down out of the carriage. “Nunnelly! You weren't supposed to! Not yet!” She knelt worriedly beside Deverel's prone body. “Oh, dear—he's so still. Is he breathing?”

“Faith, now, of course he is. 'Twas only a tap I gave him. I'm thinking 'tis easier to hit him here and drag him to the door, don't ye see, than to be followin' you two up to the door to crack him.”

“Oh…” Julia let out a moan. She turned Deverel's head and delicately probed with her fingers. “I think he's bleeding.”

She pulled her handkerchief out of her pocket and pressed it to the raw lump on Deverel's head.

“Don't get in a taking, Miss Julie. Ye can't be losin' yer nerve now. 'Tis too late. The deed's been done. I'll be taking him up to the hut. Ye stay with the horses.”

He bent and grasped Stonehaven under the arms and lifted his torso, then began to walk backward, dragging the lower half of Stonehaven's body. He made his slow way along the little path leading to the old shepherd's hut, which Julia and Thomas had fixed up and reinforced for the purpose of imprisoning Lord Stonehaven. Julia turned and went over to the horses. She took the lead's bridle and stroked his nose, talking soothingly to him, more for herself, she thought, than for him.

Nunnelly was right, she told herself. She was being a coward. Where was her vaunted courage? Where was her loyalty to her beloved brother? Was she going to give up on clearing his name simply because his enemy had seduced her in her carriage? She felt horribly low and guilty, but she was not sure which she was feeling worse about: capturing Stonehaven or wanting to abandon her plan.

She let out a low moan and rested her head against the horse's neck. Things had seemed so much easier and clearer when they had planned this.

“All right, miss.” Nunnelly's voice came behind her. “The devil's tied up, all right and tight. He'll be comin' around any minute now.” He looked at her, concerned. “Is it squeamish ye're feelin', miss?”

Julia nodded a little shamefacedly. “I suppose I am. Oh, Nunnelly, all of a sudden, there at the end, I didn't feel as if I could do it! Am I wrong? What should I do?”

“It's not for me to say, miss. What changed your mind?”

“I don't know.” She could hardly tell him that she had been demoralized by the man's lovemaking. And now that she thought about it, she saw that that was all it was. She still believed that Lord Stonehaven had embezzled the money and purposely implicated her brother. She still believed that he was responsible for the destruction of their lives. The only thing that had changed was that she had weakened. She had let her own vagrant desire make her irresolute.

Julia stiffened her back. “I'm sorry. For a moment I lost my courage.” She raised her chin. “I will be all right now.”

Nunnelly looked relieved. Julia felt sure that he must have been disconcerted to see her act so oddly. “I'll go in with you, miss, to see if he's awake.”

“You needn't. I shan't turn back again. You should probably stay with the horses.”

He cast an eye at the docile animals. “They'll be all right. I'm thinking yer fellow won't be in a mood to talk. Ye'd best ride back to Greenwood with me and let him stew for a night.”

“You may be right. I'll see if he's awakened yet.”

She marched resolutely up the path to the door, not arguing when Nunnelly followed. Drawing a sustaining breath, she pushed open the door and stepped inside.

Deverel was seated in a sturdy wooden chair, his legs tied to the front two legs of the chair. A rope was wrapped around his chest and the back of the chair, lashing him to it. His head was up, and his eyes open, and he was looking dazedly around the room. Julia could see the muscles bunch in his legs and arms as he moved against his bonds, testing their strength. He turned his head at their entrance. His expression was frowning and confused.

When he saw Julia, his face fell into grim lines, and his eyes narrowed. “Why, you cunning little jade!”

Julia flinched inwardly. She had expected him to be furious, had known that he would revile her, but she had been unprepared for it to feel as if his words had stabbed her in the heart.

“Here, now, there's no need to be talking that way.” Nunnelly stepped forward, his meaty fists clenching. “'Twas me that put that knot on yer head, not Miss Julie.”

“Ah, so it's Julie now, is it?” Deverel said scornfully, his eyes boring into Julia. “What happened to the other lass, the
compliant
one? The one so timid and sensitive that she ran away rather than—”

“Are ye deaf? Shut up, I said!” Nunnelly roared. “Ye're not in charge now, me fine lad, and ye better keep a civil tongue in yer head when ye're speakin' to the mistress.”

“She's not
my
mistress.”

His tone gave the words an ironic stress.

“You'd better go, Nunnelly,” Julia said hastily. If her loyal servant stayed here, she had little doubt that Stonehaven would goad Nunnelly into punching him, even tied to the chair as he was.

“Nunnelly?” Deverel asked, brows rising. “Your father? Or your husband?”

Nunnelly's eyes narrowed, and Julia hastily waved him away. “I can handle this myself. As you can see, you tied him up perfectly well, and he shan't be able to harm me. I am sure he will be calmer and less obstructive with only me here.” What she thought, but did not add, was that the men's male posturing would only serve to make matters worse.

Nunnelly cast a last reluctant look toward Stonehaven. “As ye wish, miss. I'll be right outside,” he added significantly.

“Why, you're the footpad!” Lord Stonehaven exclaimed suddenly, peering at Nunnelly. “Of course. I was stupid not to realize that it was all connected. Three attempts on me, and when they failed, the temptress was sent in.”

Nunnelly's eyes flared with fire again, but Julia hastily put her hand on his arm and urged him out of the room. She closed the door behind the coachman and turned to face Deverel, her insides knotting. He kept a hard, steady glare on Julia as she moved across the dirt floor of the one-room shack until she stood a few feet away from him.

“What a fool I was!” His face was cold and white with fury, his dark eyes glittering wildly. “Like a stallion after a mare in heat—too blind to see that your gorgeous flesh was a trap!”

“I am sure that you will feel more like talking later,” Julia told him coldly, struggling to maintain her poise. She refused to let him see that his insults had hit any mark with her.

“Talking!” he exclaimed. “Is that what you want of me? I'm willing to talk right now—though I daresay you'll care little for what I have to say.”

“Perhaps after spending a night here you will be more amenable!” Julia flared.

He let out a laugh of scorn. “If you think that, then you don't know me. You stupid little strumpet! Did you honestly think that you could bend me to your will this way? Do you think that I will pay you to release me? What are you planning to do? Shoot me if I don't give you money? Starve me to death? You'll hardly get any payment if you do. Or are you fool enough to think that I will cave in at the thought of being hungry or of being stuck in this uncomfortable place? Let me save you the time and trouble. I will not give in to you. You can hold me here forever, and you will never get one shilling from me.”

He shook his head, looking disgusted. “You made the wrong choice, my girl. I would have offered you a carte blanche. You could have been sitting pretty in your own house, lots of jewelry and fashionable clothes, a nice allowance—if only you had stuck to what you are good at—seduction. As it is, you will be sitting in Newgate. You and your ape of a friend out there and whoever else is in on this with you.”

“There is no one else in on this. I am the only one responsible.”

He rolled his eyes expressively. “Of course. I should have realized that. One so commonly finds a whore masterminding an extortion plot.”

“I am not a whore!” Julia's hand itched to slap him.

“That rankles, does it?” He smiled smugly. “What is it they say about the truth hurting? But then, perhaps
whore
is the wrong term. You didn't exactly sell your body, did you? Just used it to betray me. I suppose that makes you more a Judas than a whore, doesn't it?”

“I did not betray you. It was your own lust that did that,” Julia retorted. “If your brain commanded your body rather than the other way around, you wouldn't be here, would you?” She raised her hand. “No. No need to speak. The answer is obvious.”

“As obvious as the way
your
body responded in the carriage?”

Julia raised an eyebrow. “Indeed? You were the man who just pointed out how I
deceived
you.”

She could tell from the glint of renewed fury in his eyes that she had scored a hit. His lip curled, and he said, “Get out of my sight. You'll never get anything from me.”

“Fine.” Julia started toward the door. She paused, her hand on the doorknob, and turned back to him. “We shall see if you are singing the same tune tomorrow morning.”

He smiled evilly. “Yes, we shall. Go try to sleep now. Think about how much you've lost. Consider your dilemma—threats are worthless unless you can carry them out.”

Julia cast him a look of intense dislike and swung out of the door. She slammed it shut behind her and locked it, sticking the key back in her pocket. Then she stalked out to the carriage, scowling.

She was glad for her anger. It kept at bay the dismay she had felt when she first walked in and saw Deverel trussed up like that. It held back the shame she had felt each time he had looked at her with disgust and contempt, the hurt when he had labeled her a whore.

She huddled in the corner of the carriage all the way from the shepherd's hut to the graceful manor house that was her home, clutching her anger around her like a cloak. She raged at the names he had called her.
How had he dared, when it was he who was the scoundrel?
She fumed at his defiant attitude and smiled with bitter satisfaction at the change of face that would doubtless occur in Lord Stonehaven when he had been alone in the hut for a few hours.

But she could not sustain her fury for long, and by the time they reached the house, the hot pitch of rage was gone, leaving her feeling sick and lost. The house was dark, and her bed had not been made up for her, for, of course, the servants had not expected her home. Julia slipped in the back door, unlocked as was often the case in the country, and made her way with only a candle up to her room. It was a cheerless scene—dark, the bed covered with a coverlet and no sheets beneath, no welcoming fire burning in the grate to take off the evening chill.

Looking around at the room brought her spirits even lower. Julia sank down in the overstuffed chair by the fireplace and rested her head on her hands, elbows propped on her knees.

She had blundered. Julia saw it now and wondered why the thought had never occurred to her before, when she was rushing down this path with headlong determination. Deverel Grey was not going to give in to intimidation and threats. He was far too strong, too powerful. She had told herself that he was a coward because of the nature of his crimes. It had made sense, and perhaps it was true in some ways, but after she had gotten to know him better, it had been stupid of her to believe that he would cave in to her threats. She had been foolish and pigheaded not to realize that this was no man who would confess because one pressed him to.

She had the awful, sickening feeling that everything he had said about himself just now was true. He would not give in. He would not tell her the truth, would not confess to his crimes just because she imprisoned him. He was a strong man, and stubborn, and his rage at her only strengthened his determination. She had seen it in his eyes tonight—he would rather die than give in to her. When he did not talk, what was she to do? Starve him? Beat him? Leave him to waste away in that hut? It was absurd, of course; she could not do any of those things. The man was right: threats accomplished nothing if one was unprepared to back them up.

She thought back on her vague plans. She and Thomas and Phoebe had never discussed what they would do if Lord Stonehaven did not confess. It had not occurred to any of them that he would not. She saw now that they had believed what they wanted to believe. They had talked and talked about what they would do, but in each of their scenarios, Stonehaven had acted just as they wanted him to. They had made no allowance for his refusing to confess.

Julia sank her head into her hands with a groan. She did not even want to think about the other things he had said, the names he had called her, the vicious shredding of her honor. But she could not keep from it. It did not matter what
he
thought of her, of course. It
did
matter, however, that she was beginning to feel a sick shame herself. She had thought that any means would justify her ends. In her desperate desire to salvage Selby's reputation, she had let herself sink to her enemy's level. She had told herself that it was all right to pretend to be a shady woman, since she was not going to actually sleep with him. But she wondered now if it wasn't just a matter of degrees. By pretending to be a whore, by dressing and acting like one, hadn't she been selling herself? Hadn't she, by letting him kiss and caress her, been giving him her body in return for the hope of getting information? She had always been willful; she was quite ready to admit it. But she had never before let her headstrong nature lead her into doing something wicked. Now she was afraid that she had.