The Lodestone (29 page)

Then Drake was at her side, holding her cape out for her. He quickly wrapped her in it and asked, “Are you ready to pay your debt, Cleome?”

“I am ready, sir.”

It was not far from the club to Drake’s townhouse but the gambler used the time wisely. He sent his groom ahead with Epitome, telling him to make the colt comfortable in his new quarters. After Drake gave his driver orders to follow closely behind, he lifted Cleome into the coach and took the place beside her, gathering her into his arms and crushing her to him, kissing her well and deeply. She responded with equal passion.

He loosened the ties of her cape and put his broad hands inside it, lightly stroking the mound of creamy flesh the décolletage of her pretty green dress exposed. Instead of protesting, she arched closer to him, rejoicing at the feel of his hard frame against her. With a sense of wonder, he ran his hands lightly down her back, encircling her small waist and pulling her even closer.

She delighted in his touch as it ignited within her a heated yearning that was like a physical hunger, demanding to be satisfied at once. It was with a mutual mixture of regret and relief that they reached his elegant brownstone. He pulled her wrap closely about her again, and when he lifted her down and motioned for the coachman to drive on, she was mystified that she could experience such wild anticipation along with a strange calm, as if this was what she had waited for as long as she could remember.

Without a word, he led her inside, through a well-appointed foyer, up the stairs, and finally into an opulent bedroom. Flames danced brightly in the fireplace but no servants were in evidence. Champagne awaited them, iced and chilling in a silver bucket; and fruit, cheese and tiny confections too beautiful to eat were spread on a linen-draped table. The music box that had played the night she danced with him at the tavern house, safe in his warm embrace, was the centerpiece; and she was touched that he had placed it there. To her, it was the symbol of the moment their love began and that he also considered it important aroused her almost as much as his caresses. He took her cloak from her and tossed it across a chair. She expected him to take her in his arms again but instead, he stared at her, exasperated.

“You know I will not force you to satisfy the wager,” he said at last. “People will gossip about our cribbage game for months to come, and Stoneham House will profit greatly by your ruined reputation, for which you seem to care little.”

She took a step closer to him, as if drawn by an unseen force, as if his flesh were a lodestone to hers and she had no will of her own. “So . . . your purpose was adequately served, then?”

“I would say, more than adequately.” He, too, took a step nearer.

“I was worried that the lovely lady at the roulette wheel would keep you occupied throughout the evening,” she probed, inching closer still.

“
She was there for one purpose only,” he said, and her show of jealousy seemed to amuse him. Then somehow, she was in his arms, reveling in the feel of his hands on her and the thrill provoked by hard, sinewy thighs pressing against her belly. Slowly, he placed feathery kisses just beneath each of her earlobes.

“And what purpose was that?” she asked.

His breath suddenly grew more ragged, but he managed to reply, “To keep every man there away from you—as if that were possible—so I would have you to myself.”

She laughed, delighted. “Yet, even so, you would not hold me to our wager?”

“I would like nothing better than for you to pay your debt, mademoiselle, but only if you do so willingly.”

“
It is a debt of honor, is it not?” she reminded him sweetly, circling his neck with her arms and standing on tiptoe to kiss his chin. “And do you not consider me an honorable person?”

“
Indeed.”

“Then, I believe, there is nothing further to discuss.”

He kissed her again, at first gently, and then demanding, as his hunger for her mounted. He took the jeweled combs from her hair, letting it flow free. Running his fingers through the dark auburn curls, he lightly traced the outline of her lips with his tongue. Her arms went around him and she responded with increasing heat. It was as if her entire body was on fire, and she burned to the secret core of her being for something only he could satisfy.

He turned her around and slowly unfastened her lovely green gown. As he pulled it gently down, he scattered light kisses on her shoulders and back. After helping her to step out of the dress and sending it to join the cloak, he unlaced her chemise and slipped it down to the top of her corset. For a moment, he stared at her full, round breasts, and then he slowly captured the rosy tip of one of them in his mouth. A wild rush of warmth spread to her loins and she pressed even closer, longing for the fulfillment his nearness promised. Gently, he pulled her chemise back up and moved a little away from her.

He disengaged himself and went to the table where their midnight feast was spread and filled each of the crystal flutes with sparkling, crisp champagne. He gave one glass to her and held the other up in tribute.

“First I would drink a toast to the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known, whose face haunts me day and night.” He took a sip and waited for her to do the same. “Bring your wine and sit with me before the fire. We must talk seriously before we take this any further.”

“Then you must let me speak first,” she said, determined to make clear her position. She had to tell him how she felt about him, how much she wanted him to make love to her, and how she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him; but also that she would not marry him, or anyone. Taking his champagne glass, she placed it with her own upon a nearby table, and then she went into his arms and kissed him with all the longing she had held back for months.

“That is indeed eloquent,” he said at last, breathless under her attack. “If that’s the language you wish to converse in, by all means, you may speak first.” He led her to a settee before the fire but she was on her feet again almost instantly and she was surprised to find herself trembling.

“I’m not sure how to begin,” she said, pacing a little away from him. “Of course, you are a man of experience, so my feelings for you are no secret.”

“I’ve suspected for a while that you desire me as much as I do you.” He rose and went to gather her in his embrace once more. “How long you have known about these feelings, Cleome?” he asked thickly, intoxicated by her nearness.

Looking innocently into his eyes, she replied, “I’m not sure. It was before you took me to Lady Easton’s ball, the first time you danced with me. Do you remember?”

He swirled her about the room, then spun her away from him and back again into his arms, sending her into delicate gales of laughter. “I’ll never forget. Cinderella at the ball one night, and then the very next day in possession of a fortune. Except for that event, you would have been mine already. I was courting you as seriously as Garnett Easton, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“You were courting me?” she was surprised. “Why did you stop?”

“The timing was wrong. You and your advisors would have accused me of being a fortune hunter. And there were other important factors.”

“
Are
you a fortune hunter?” she asked mischievously.

“I am not,” he assured her. “I’ve amassed considerably more money and property than we’ll need in one lifetime. Now, may I have my say?”

“Soon,” she promised. “I must tell you what’s in my heart. But first, will you dance with me? The way we did that night, after Lady Easton’s ball?” Before he could stop her, before he even knew what she was about, she went to the table where the feast lay waiting and picked up the music box. “We’ll have the same music,” she said, and smiling as if love itself were her conspirator, she turned the box over and wound it.

A sudden cold dread seized him. “Cleome, wait. Allow me—”

“I can manage,” she assured him. She turned the music box back and lifted the cover so the notes could escape, only to find a conundrum within. There, peeking out from the edges of a folded sheet of bloodstained parchment was a lock of hair—her own hair. Or at least it was the exact shade as her own.

Touched at this unexpected sentimentality in his nature, and wondering how he had obtained a lock of her hair, Cleome was flattered beyond measure. When she tried with one hand to ease the auburn curl out of its paper coffer, she dropped the music box onto the carpet and was astonished when it hit the floor, for a false bottom opened and a miniature portrait of Ramona as she must have looked twenty years ago fell out, along with a small money pouch. Puzzled, Cleome kneeled to pick up each item and examine it. Slowly she unfolded the parchment and in shocked disbelief, she read the words written there.

The warmth of the previous hour was forgotten. A chill descended on her, invading her body and surrounding her heart, it seemed, with an inch of ice. She could hardly breathe and she couldn’t believe what she held in her hands. It was a marriage certificate. Her mother’s marriage certificate. The document that made her mother respectable at last—and Cleome acceptable in the human race. It had been in Drake’s music box all this time, in a hidden compartment, along with a miniature of Ramona. And he’d never said a word about it.

Leaving the music box and money pouch on the floor along with the piece of parchment and the lock of hair, she stood up and looked at him as she would a stranger. The fire was burning down to smoldering embers and the room had gone darker; but she could see that Drake’s smile had faded.

“
I had good reason. Let me explain and I’m sure you will agree.”

“
Sir, I do not know what fool’s game you’ve been playing with me, but it is over,” she declared, gathering up her clothes and donning them quickly. He moved to put his arms around her. “No!” she protested bitterly. “Leave me be!”

“Cleome, you cannot deny what you felt—what we shared—only moments ago.”

“What did you think to do?” she raged. “Take my virginity and then reveal to me my sudden respectability? To what purpose have you deceived me? Was it not enough that you took everything else that was dear to me?”

“I insist you hear me out.”

Fully dressed now, she picked up her mother’s marriage certificate and the lock of hair and headed for the door. Resolute, he picked up the music box and money pouch and blocked her way.

“You will listen,” he said gripping her arms firmly, holding her in place. “Allow me to explain. Then I will make sure you get home safely.”

“If it will make you release me, then explain. But only how you came by the contents of the box. I care not why you withheld them. There can be no good reason for that act of betrayal.”

He took her elbow and she went rigid, steeling herself not to succumb to the overwhelming desire she still felt for him. Gently, he led her to a chair by the fire and made her sit down; then he moved the other chair close beside her so that he could sit near. He took her hand and although she tried to wrest it from him, he held it fast.

“I was entrusted by your father, as he lay dying on the battlefield, to deliver these things into your mother’s hands should I survive and return to England after the war. You are aware that I served with him in France. We were both with Wellington. I know you have heard me speak of it to your mother.”

“Yes,” Cleome retorted bitterly. “What I thought were pretty fairy tales, told to improve the state of her health. How could you keep it from her? And from me? I’ve lived all my life in the shadow of rumors and no one has ever come forward to claim me as his child or bear witness to my mother’s claim of marriage. But you actually knew the man who sired me!”

“
You are right, of course, and this is long overdue,” he replied. “I have the honor of informing you that your father, Corporal James Parker, died a hero’s death in battle in the service of his king and country. He entrusted to me the document you are holding. I have so far abstained from giving it to his widow due to the precarious state of her health. I continued to withhold it because—”

“Her health has always been delicate,” she broke in harshly. “No reason you could give would be good enough to deny my mother her due.”

“I wished only to protect her!” he exploded. “And I would not see you wasted on some young fool like Garnett Easton!”

“I see. You were worried that some member of the nobility would charm me off my feet. Is that it?”

“Well, it does appear the joke is on me, does it not?” he asked, his voice touched with a piercing irony. “For now you are a member of that same aristocracy and you give every sign of being able to take care of yourself.”

“
Of that, sir, I am perfectly capable.”

“
I can only exhort you to consider carefully before you place that document in your mother’s hands, for once you do, the circumstances in which I came by it will have to be told. Is she ready to hear that her Jimmy is buried in some foreign land?”

Cleome studied the paper in her lap. Before her eyes were blinded with her sorrow, she read it again, very slowly. It was indeed a certificate of the union, in holy matrimony, of Ramona Desmond and James Parker. It was inscribed roughly, as if written in great haste, with many words flowing into others. A huge dark blot covered Ramona’s maiden name.

“A hero’s death,” she whispered, touching the bloodstain with trembling fingers. She dared not look at Drake, for a cold anger festered within her. He’d had this precious paper in his possession and he had used it to try and make the ultimate fool of her. Sadness descended upon her, bittersweet for it was mingled with the joy of discovering at last her true beginnings. A tear slid down one cheek and dropped onto the parchment. Cleome quickly wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, lest her tears smudge the faint imprint of her father’s name.