The Princess & the Pea (20 page)

Cece tossed and turned and turned and tossed until the fine linen sheets knotted about her legs and her pillow bunched beneath her head. No matter what contortions she performed in an effort to find an acceptable spot, sleep evaded her like an incessant insect buzzing just out of reach.

It wasn't as if she had fallen into bed reluctantly. On the contrary, between the trip from London, Jareds so-called driving lesson and the scandalous goings-on at dinner, the day had been extraordinarily busy. And tomorrow promised to be just as full. A hunt was planned for the morning and, while she had no interest in that activity, Jared, as host, insisted on attending. He only reluctantly agreed to meet her beforehand at the stable, where she expected he would do his level best to avoid instructing her in the operation of his precious automobile.

It wasn't the fault of her surroundings. The room allotted her in the castle's west wing was exceedingly comfortable and even quite charming in an old-fashioned sort of way, with massive antique furniture and wall hangings, and ceilings that seemed to soar perilously close to heaven itself. Even the mattress on the huge four-poster bed was as soft and uniting as a whispered caress. No bulges, bumps or lumps here.

She gave the pillow an unwarrantedly vicious punch, flipped over on her back and stared at the ceiling high above her. In the moonlight that filtered from the window she couldn't make out the intricate coffered design, only shapes and shadows that seemed to undulate in and out of her vision. At this moment, did sleep elude Jared as well? Did he too lay awake, staring at a ceiling very much like this one?

For not the first time she considered this very odd emotion called love. It was not the blissful, unquestioned happiness described by poets. Instead, it was much more like a constant state of anticipation punctuated by periodic bouts of frustration, annoyance and longing. It was that unquenched yearning for something still unknown that caused her restlessness tonight.

Every moment spent in his presence seemed to weaken her resolve to make him work for her hand. With every word, every glance and. Lord help her, every kiss, she seemed to fall more and more under his spell. And the chaste kisses they'd shared since Paris were simply not enough.

Cece prided herself on being a modern woman and as such was well aware of the physical intimacies that lovers shared. But it had always sounded somewhat odd, definitely awkward and just a touch distasteful. Now, her opinions faltered.

More and more in moments like this she wondered what it would be like to share newfound passions with a man. With Jared. His kiss alone had given her a glimpse of sensations she never dreamed existed. What more could she expect when his lips refused to linger on hers and instead drifted down her neck to taste the sensitive flesh that even now trembled at the thought of his desire? When his strong, tanned hands refused to rest discreedy and instead explored the hills and valleys of her increasingly receptive body? When his hard chest crushed her breasts with an insistent demand she had never—

Cece gasped and sat upright, heat flashing up her face. She threw off the sheets and swung her feet over the side of the bed. This was quite enough. She stood decisively and grabbed her wrapper. Swiftly, she donned the silken robe and stalked to the door. She refused to spend the rest of the night mooning over Jared and succumbing to indecent thoughts, intriguing though they might be. A good book would occupy her traitorous mind. She grit her teeth and pulled her door open. At this point even a boring book would help. Anything to put herself, as well as images of Jared, to rest.

The gaslights in the broad hallway were turned down low and no one stirred in the corridor. Cece had only seen the castle's library while on a brief tour, but she'd always been quite proud of her unerring sense of direction. Courses and routes, whether in buildings, city streets or on open roads, seemed to stick forever in her mind. Once shown a direction she never lost it. It was admittedly an unusual gift, but Cece considered it a practical talent nonetheless.

Silently she slipped though the halls, down the stairs and into the library. She lit a lamp and gazed around the book-edged room. Vohimes lined shelf after shelf: rows of tomes reached to a ceiling that disappeared in the shadows above. She perused the shelves nearest her and wrinkled her nose in disgust.

Chaucer. Balzac. Milton. Nothing of any interest whatsoever. No treatise on the rights of women. No publications detailing the latest inventions of Mr. Edison. No Twain, no Melville, no Alcott. How frightfully boring. She sighed. At least the writings she'd discovered thus far would not keep her awake. She couldn't imagine the words of Samuel Pepys capturing her attention to the point where she would not want to put it down.

Surely there was something of note here. Cece moved to the next wall and her gaze caught a promising shelf Shakespeare. Not her first choice, but not altogether unacceptable.

Her fingers trailed along the gilded leather spines and paused for a moment on
Romeo and Juliet.
She shook her head firmly. She was in no mood for star-crossed lovers tonight. Cece bypassed the rest of the tragedies and the histories until her touch rested lightly on the Bard's more humorous offerings.
A Midsummer Night's Dream ?
No: too fanciful.
Much Ado About Nothing?
No: the treatment of Hero by Claudio always infuriated her.
The Taming of the Shrew?
She grinned and plucked the book from its resting place. Now here was a story she could well appreciate.

She chuckled to herself and made her way back to her chamber. She would have to ask Jared what he thought of this particular play. Given their ongoing battle over her driving instruction, his views on this particular Shakespearian effort might well be amusing and insightful.

Cece turned the corner into the hall and pulled up short. Someone stood at the door to her room. She took another few cautious steps forward and peered into the dimly lit corridor. It was Sir Humphrey! What on earth was he doing with his hand on her doorknob? She started toward him indignantly, then stopped. No: far better to see exactly what the old lecher was up to than to confront him now. She flattened herself against the nearest recessed door and watched.

Sir Humphrey darted a quick glance up and down the hall. Even from here she could see his lascivious grin. Apparently even a fork imbedded in his hammy hand was not enough to dissuade this rotund suitor that his attentions were not merely unwanted but repugnant as well. Again she stifled the urge to confront him face to face. She was, after all, alone in the hall and, despite his rather ineffectual appearance, she had no idea how dangerous the nasty creature could really be.

Sir Humphrey turned the knob and tiptoed into her room and closed the door quietly behind him. Cece suppressed the desire to giggle at the thought of how any rational toes could truly support a bulk of Sir Humphrey's magnitude. She waited, her gaze fastened on the door. Moments ticked by. She shifted impatiently. Surely he had realized by now that she was not in her bed? Damnation! What if he decided to wait for her? What if at this very moment the lustful old coot was reclining in her own bed dreaming of her arrival? And what if, unaware, she had innocently walked in on him? Shivers of revulsion coursed down her spine.

She squared her shoulders. She would give Sir Humphrey a few moments more and then join Emily in her room. In the morning, she would decide what to do about his outrageous behavior.

The door to her room opened abruptly and she pressed her back into the shadows of her doorway hiding place. Sir Humphrey stepped into the hall, casting a cursory glance at the empty walkway. He appeared quite disgruntled and muttered under his breath. She strained to catch the words on his retreat down the corridor but failed to pick up more than "tart," "hussy" and "American."

The nerve of the man! How dare he be indignant because she was not available for his amorous advances? Impulsively, Cece marched after him, determined to give him a verbal thrashing he would never forget, when yet another door in the hall opened. Once again, Cece shrank into the shadows.

Lady DeToulane progressed down the corridor in a casual manner offset by the assessing glances she tossed this way and that. Linnea stopped directly before Nigel Radcliffe's room and Cece gasped. No doubt this was another attempt at assignation among the houseguests.

Lady DeToulane's head jerked upright, her hand dropping from the knob, and Cece's heart fluttered in her throat.

"Is anyone there?" Linnea whispered sharply.

"It's only me," Cece said, stepping from her hiding place.

"Oh." Linnea appeared at a loss but only for a moment. Her eyes narrowed. "Whatever are you doing, roaming the halls at this hour of the night?"

"I couldn't sleep." Cece shrugged and held up the book. "I thought reading might help." She affixed an expression of innocence on her face. "And what of you? Are you having difficulties sleeping as well?"

"Difficulties sleeping?" Linnea looked as if the very idea was foreign to her: then she brightened. "Yes, of course. That's it exactly."

Dramatically she brought the back of her hand to her forehead and heaved a heartfelt sigh. "I do have such troubles retiring at night. Rest constancy seems to evade me." Linnea peeked out from beneath her raised hand. "It is a difficult cross to bear."

Cece struggled to appear appropriately sympathetic. "I can well imagine."

"No, no, it's quite beyond imagining." Linnea swept her arms outward in a wide gesture to encompass an entire world of woes. "The inability to sleep dominates one's life. It preys on the mind, sapping one's will and energy."

She placed an arm around Cece's shoulder and gentry steered her away from Nigel's room.

"It sounds quite horrible." Cece said, suspecting Linnea's growing tirade more a fiction to hide her true purpose in the hallway than a product of any real affliction.

"Indeed." Linnea nodded seriously. "Horrible is something of an understatement. You are so very lucky to still be young enough to avoid such ailments." She stopped before Cece's door. "This is your room, isn't it?" Cece nodded. "How old are you, my dear?"

"Nearly twenty-one."

"As old as that." Linnea murmured. "Well, you still have some good years left."

"Thank you." Cece said dryly.

"Not at all." Linnea waved a dismissive hand, men reached for Cece's doorknob. "I, on the other hand, am old enough to be ... well, shall we say an older sister. An older and much wiser sister. Husbands, no matter how wealthy or amicable or mature, do tend to age a woman. Still..."

Linnea leaned toward Cece in a confidential manner. "I am scarce past my thirty-second year and I feel I too have some good years left."

Cece bit her lip to hide her grin. "Undoubtedly."

Linnea nodded and opened Cece's door. "I have never been one for reading, yet this idea of yours of using a book to get to sleep has definite possibilities."

Cece raised a curious brow. "I'm surprised you haven't thought of it before."

"Yes, well..." Linnea cast a surreptitious glance at Nigel's door, and Cece wondered what he would think of Linnea's newfound literary interest. "There is no time like the present to try something one has never experienced before. You run along to bed now."

Firmly, Linnea nudged Cece into her room. "Do try to get some rest, my dear. I simply could not bear it if I thought yet another person in this house was suffering the way I am."

"Do you need directions to the library?"

"The library?" Confusion colored Linnea's face.

"The room with the books?" Cece prompted.

"No, no." Linnea shook her head briskly. "No need for that. I'm sure I shall find it with no difficulties whatsoever." She pulled the door toward her. "If this works, you will have my undying gratitude. Good night." The door snapped closed behind her.

Cece's long-suppressed grin broke free. Wicked thoughts flew through her mind.
If I have her undying gratitude, just what does Lord Radcliffe receive?

Cece counted slowly to ten, then quietly opened her door the barest crack. Linnea stood by the door to Nigel's room. She glanced around swiftly, turned the knob and stepped inside.

Cece's amusement at the nighttime antics was tempered by astonishment. Certainly she had heard of illicit arrangements like this between unmarried—and often married—ladies and gentlemen. She was a modern woman, after all. Still, coming face to face with Sir Humphrey's advances and now Linnea's indiscretions was contrary to her upbringing, to the beliefs and values she'd been raised to accept. She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully and considered what she'd observed thus far. Perhaps being a modern woman required some reassessment.

The sound of another door opening in the corridor brought her to her senses, and she stared to see who the latest player was in this late-night game of hide-and-seek. Emily came into sight. Cece gasped. No. not her sister! Emily was far too young and innocent to enter into such nocturnal activities. Sibling protectiveness surged through her. Cece threw open her door and pulled her sister into her room.

"What on earth are you doing?" Emily said indignantly.

"What am I doing?" Cece drew herself up in her best older-sister manner. "The question is, what are you doing?"

Emily threw her an annoyed glare. "I thought I'd try to find the kitchen and get something to drink. I couldn't sleep."

"That seems to be an epidemic tonight." Cece said under her breath.

"What?" Emily's eyes narrowed. "What did you think I was doing?"

Guilt at her initial suspicion flooded her. She really should have known better than to even question Em's activities. Why, of the two sisters, Cece was the one more likely to go forging ahead without a thought to propriety or good sense. Cece was the one most apt to throw caution aside and act on emotion. Cece was the one with the impulsive nature that had more than once gotten her in a great deal of trouble. Still, in this improper atmosphere it did no harm to look out for her younger sibling.

"Nothing of any consequence," Cece said airily. "But there is a great deal of activity going on in this hallway tonight and it would be prudent to be alert."