Chapter Fifteen

C HAPTER F IFTEEN

Christina was inconsolable. “A beautiful man like Sabinus will be a jewel of the fairy court. They will never let him go.”

“Still we must try,” Lady Long-Nose said briskly. “Perhaps we can ransom him with gold or jewels.”

At that, Christina wailed all the louder. “Where can I get a ransom? We don’t even know how to find the fairy court.”…

—From Lady Long-Nose

Elspeth sat before the fire late that afternoon, still searching through dusty tomes, her fingertips growing grayer and grayer. Plum lay beside her, a warm weight.

Julian was on the ladder, and she paused to look up at him. They hadn’t spoken in the last hour. There was no need to; the remaining books in the library were growing fewer and fewer.

Above Julian’s head, the last shelf in the library was half-empty. He gathered the remaining books in his arms and clattered down from the ladder.

He had dust in his coal-black hair, as if playing an old man in a traveling theater company.

She looked wearily at the books he laid on the small table beside her. “Do you think we’ll find the diary—diaries—in there?”

He glanced from the small stack of books to her, his expression softening. “Perhaps we will.”

His words were supposed to be reassuring, but they both knew the search was a lost cause. The books on this side of the library were mainly folios, too large to be diaries of any sort.

But Julian sat in an armchair near her and paged patiently through one of the folios. Elspeth took another and began blindly searching. There was no reason for her to stay once the library had been searched. She’d already looked through all the remaining rooms. Maighread’s diary, if it ever existed, patently wasn’t at Adders.

But Julian’s mother’s book was.

Elspeth winced, glancing up through her eyelashes at him. He looked so tired—almost defeated. But he would have the book he looked for. It was right now up in her bedroom. She could get it now for him if—

Elspeth stared down at the book in her hand, carefully tilting it so Julian couldn’t see the page. A hollow had been cut into the book. And within lay a plain brown book without any markings save those made by damp.

Julian stood suddenly, tossing down the last book. “It’s not here.” He strode to the fireplace, his back to her. “God what a waste.”

Elspeth’s fingers shook as she pried the little book from its hidey-hole, taking a quick look inside. On the inner cover was a faint hand, MAIGHREAD’S BOOK . She caught her breath, holding it so she wouldn’t make any sound.

“I’d look for secret compartments in the house or priest holes,” Julian said, his back still to her, “save for the fact that my mother’s family has never been Catholic.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said, guilt spreading like a poison along her veins as she hid the small diary in her pocket. She shoved the book it had come from into the stack of volumes on the floor.

He turned to look at her, his face agonized. “I’ve been such a fool.”

She blinked, feeling an arrow through her heart, and looked down guiltily at her grimy hands. Was hiding his mother’s book worth this pain? But if she gave it to him now he would know she lied and be angry with her. He’d send her away. Was wanting a few hours more with him so awful? “I don’t believe you a fool to want to save your family.”

He scoffed.

She licked her lips. “Do you think me a fool?”

“No.” He frowned at her. “What do you mean?”

Elspeth shrugged, standing. “Well, if I’m not a fool, then my opinion must count, and I think you are a very brave man.” She looked at him. “Not a fool.”

He was silent.

Elspeth felt despair. “How many years have you fought the duke while guarding your family at the same time? With no respite, ally, or place to feel safe? Julian, I don’t see how you can remain sane.”

“Perhaps I’m not,” he said quietly. “This fight, as you call it, has infected every thought in my mind until there is no other thing there. But you are wrong when you say I’ve had no respite.” He looked up at her, his eyes piercing. “You. You’ve smoothed balm over my wounded head. You’ve brought me peace, if only for a little while.”

“Then I’m glad of it,” she replied softly, knowing she didn’t deserve his trust. An awful heavy feeling lay deep in her gut. Because Julian was no longer a stranger to her. She could see now the man beneath his icy shield, alone and shivering but still intent on his mission, pushing forward even as his soul froze.

She wanted to be his warmth. His fire.

“I don’t think,” Elspeth whispered, “that I’ve ever been so intimate with another human being as you.”

He winced, glancing away.

“No,” she said, gently. “I don’t mean physically. I mean in the spirit. This has been…” She searched for the right words. “A time apart from the world. It seems almost a fantasy of my mind, you and me together as merely man and woman. I think I may always treasure this time with you.”

He swayed as he stood before her, and she made up her mind.

“I need to wash my hands.” She went to the door with Plum trotting at her heels, pausing before she touched the doorknob. “Wait for me here.”

She didn’t look to see if he complied. She walked down the hall, breathing calmly, and entered the kitchen.

Cook and Vanderberg sat at the table gossiping, but the valet immediately rose. “Can I help you, my lady?”

“I just need a basin of water and some soap,” she told him.

He nodded and went to the cistern as she let Plum out the back. Something moved in the gloom outside, back against the trees. Elspeth caught her breath, her senses suddenly alert.

The figure turned and disappeared.

“Is she out there?” Mrs. McBride asked casually.

Elspeth looked at the cook as Plum came back in. “Who?”

Mrs. McBride shrugged. “A woman. Saw her this morning and again in the afternoon. Don’t know what she’s doing, lurking about.”

“How… how do you know it’s the same woman?”

“She’s got a twist to her mouth,” the cook said. “Ugly thing.”

Elspeth shuddered. It must be the assassin sent by the Wise Women. Who else could it be? How long had the woman been there, watching Elspeth?

“Here you are,” Vanderberg said, setting a basin of water on the table in front of her. “Are you all right, my lady?”

“Yes.” She tried a smile but it failed. “That is, I’m quite tired, I’m afraid.”

She took the soap and plunged her hands into the water. Her fingers felt filthy with more than just dust no matter how she washed, but she dried them at last.

She knew both the cook and the valet were watching her as she left silently. Plum had decided to stay in the kitchen, of course. That was, after all, where the food was.

Julian looked up when she came to the door of the library, and she studied his face, trying to memorize it.

Tomorrow she must leave. Walk away as if nothing had happened to her body and heart. She wasn’t altogether sure she could do it—return to London and normal life. Life without this intimacy and trust with him.

But that was on the morrow, hours away. Tonight, they were still together, and she couldn’t fathom wasting their time.

“Will you come with me?” she asked. “Now. To my bedroom?”

His eyes widened, and she could see his brain turning over, beginning to think of all his objections.

“No,” she said sternly. “Don’t think. Don’t pause. Come with me now.”

And he did. Obediently standing and following her from the library.

Elspeth half thought they might meet Vanderberg on the way, but the house seemed empty, as if they were still the only inhabitants.

When they arrived at her room, Julian hesitated again, looking at her door almost as if it were a trap. At the same time, Elspeth could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his eyes kept darting to her mouth.

“Come inside,” she whispered. “Come be with me, Julian.”

She pushed the door open and went in, never looking back, as if expecting him to follow her without protest. Her heart was pounding, though, with expectation, but also prepared for disappointment should he balk and leave her there alone.

But her lover trailed her as if in thrall.

Elspeth felt a shiver of pure want in her belly. Somehow the thought of having power over this proud man made her desire him more. She wanted to strip him and lay him bare in body and soul, his attention only on her, his needs subject to her whim.

She bit her lip at the mere thought.

“Take off your clothes,” she said, taking a seat on a chair to watch him.

He lowered his eyes, his hands moving to shrug off his coat, but she stopped him.

“No,” she said, soft but firm, “look at me, please. I want to see the expression on your face.”

He inhaled sharply, and she couldn’t help but notice that his cock was straining against his breeches.

She suppressed a smirk.

He began again, carefully pulling off his coat and folding it to place it on the table. His eyes had darkened as she watched, his cheeks flushed, but his mouth nearly defiant. Did he want to test her will? His fingers moved to the fall of his breeches.

She shook her head. “The waistcoat and shirt first, please.”

His lips twitched as if in irritation, but his hands moved to his waistcoat buttons.

She watched as he slowly peeled off waistcoat and shirt, but she couldn’t help a small yawn.

His eyes narrowed at her. “Do you find me boring?”

“You? No,” she said with a twitch of her lips. “But I did not say you might talk.”

His mouth twitched as if he wanted to reply but he remained silent.

Her smile grew. “Your stockings and shoes next.”

He threw her an irritated glance but moved to obey her.

Elspeth could see that his cock looked to be at full length now, straining against the placket of his breeches.

He straightened when he was barefoot, watching her for instruction.

“Good,” she said in approval. “Tell me, are you uncomfortable?”

His jaw jumped. “Yes.”

“ Very uncomfortable?” she asked, examining what she could see of his groin. He looked enormous.

He didn’t reply, and she glanced up to see him glaring at her.

She pursed her lips. “Answer me, please.”

“Yes,” he ground out.

She smiled sweetly and stood. “That’s better. Now come undress me.”

He stalked to her, standing a full head or more taller than she. He was powerful, looming, looking barely restrained. But he was keeping himself in check. As if he were a high-tempered stallion, able to crush her, but bowing before her hands on his reins.

The thought made her feel liquid.

She tilted her head to watch his face as he unpinned the bodice of her dress, spreading and opening the two sides to reveal her stays. His dark brows were drawn down, as if he were mastering a difficult but important task, and a flood of affection suddenly washed through her breast. His body, his demeanor was so different from the one he showed the rest of the world every day. Had anyone else ever seen him so open, so vulnerable?

Well, yes , a nasty little voice in her head replied. Julian had dallied with paid mistresses for years. Presumably he did with them exactly what he was doing with Elspeth now.

The thought was a sour one. Perhaps that was why her voice was sharp when she ordered, “My skirts next.”

He shot a glance at her from under his brows but obeyed easily enough, untying skirt and underskirts.

She praised him, then, when he dropped to his knees to take off her shoes. “You’ve been so good for me,” she whispered, stroking his head. “So obedient.”

He didn’t reply, but she could see the tension leave his shoulders.

When he stood again, his eyelids were drooping as if she’d given him a glass of wine laced with some sleeping potion.

“My stays,” she whispered. “Will you unlace my stays for me?”

He moved as if under a compulsion, his hands coming to rest against her breasts as he loosened the strings. She could feel each movement of his fingers, sure and precise, and shivered from the warmth of his hands brushing against her. Soon she wore only her chemise.

She stilled his right hand and brought it to her lips, kissing his fingers. “What do you want now?”

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple sliding along his strong throat. He stared at her breasts. “I want to take this off you.” He met her gaze, and she could see that he wasn’t as tamed as she’d thought him. Somewhere deep inside those icy eyes, a flame burned. “I want to see you naked.”

Her lips curled. “As you wish.”

He pulled her chemise off in a trice.

“On your knees,” she whispered. “And mind you don’t touch yourself. Have I told you how I like to see you there before me? Your back bowed, your head lowered, to me, a lass you might break in two if you wished.”

He frowned at that, even as he dropped to the floor before her. “I’d never hurt you.”

“Perhaps not,” she said softly, her hands on his head. “But if you wished to do so, you could. The thought of all that strength compliant to my whims makes me wet.”

He inhaled as if drinking in the scent of her cunny, right in front of his face.

“Oh, Julian,” she said almost reverently, “make me fly.”

He set his big hands on her hips and lifted her right leg to drape over his shoulder, a position she’d not thought of before this night. Then he pulled apart her folds with his thumbs and drove his tongue straight inside her.

She moaned, the sound loud in the room, and was going to say something, but he did it again, and thought seemed to flee her mind. She was bucking against him, grinding herself into his face, and he was mouthing and tonguing her through it all. He lapped hard and fiercely against her pearl, driving her nearly out of her mind.

For a second, she glanced down, wanting to see him at this work. His eyes were closed, his brows drawn, and his cheeks sheened with some substance. She realized with a thrill of pure lust that it was her essence he had smeared on his face. Her liquid, her scent. She’d marked him as if he were a stallion, saddled and reined and bridled and hers.

She threw back her head at the impossible thought, breaths coming fast in her throat as he kissed and sucked and fucked her with his tongue, driving her, driving her, until she made that leap, as profound as a dive off a cliff into the sea, her entire body seizing with the spasms of her orgasm. She coiled over him, his hands bracing her, the only thing keeping her from falling as she panted hard, stars flickering before her eyes. For one long moment, she didn’t even exist, she merely floated on warmth, drifting through the aftermath of her pleasure.

Then she lifted her head and looked down at him as he lazily mouthed her cunny. “It’s your turn, I think.”

Julian was aching, he was so hard, yet he didn’t want to move until Elspeth gave him the order. He knelt at her feet, worshipping her sweet pussy, heady with the scent of her, a goddess meant to be paid obeisance. He felt serene here, without thought, pain, or anxiety. Without care.

Simply existing in her presence.

“Come,” she said, swinging her leg off his shoulder. “Come to the bed.”

He stood and followed her, aware that the restriction on his stiff prick made moving awkward. She climbed in the bed and motioned for him to do so as well.

Then she lay on her side and examined him as he knelt before her. “I feel cheated somehow,” she said. “I’ve never touched your cock.”

The words brought blood both to his cheeks and to his straining prick. He wanted—suddenly needed—her to touch him.

“Come closer,” she commanded.

He could do naught but obey, presenting the obscenely bulging placket of his breeches.

She trailed her hand down along the outline of his prick, so lightly he should never have felt it, yet he did. Her fingers left a trail of lightning behind, charging him with lust so that he couldn’t help but groan.

Her lips twitched slyly, her gaze never leaving his breeches. She reversed the course of her fingers, playing idly along his length until she came to the button of his falls. Her eyes flicked up to his, sky blue, and if he weren’t intimately aware of what she was doing, she would look a girlish innocent.

She flicked open his buttons, letting the flap fall but doing nothing else to remove his breeches. His cock promptly thrust through, hampered only by the fabric of his smalls.

“Poor, poor thing,” she crooned as if reassuring his prick. “You must be so unhappy caught up in all this.”

She slipped her fingers into his placket and found the second slit of his smallclothes. He felt her hand wrap around him, cool in contrast to his enflamed prick, and she drew him forth.

He swallowed, watching her, wanting to thrust into her hand, to demand attention or at least to take control of what she did, but he remembered her earlier admonitions and let go of the urge. She was in charge. He’d given over the reins, letting her decide what he was permitted to do.

The relinquishing of control should have made him angry or tense or uneasy. He thought other men might feel something like that. But to him, it was a peaceful thing not to have to think. To know that he was helpless to her and in turn that she guided him. He’d always felt that when he’d paid for his expert companions, but with Elspeth there was something else. A final level that gave until he slowly spun in a state free from worry. Merely waiting, obedient and aching.

She was examining him now, curious and unknowingly provocative. First stroking over his length too lightly and then sliding his foreskin down, touching one finger to the drop of liquid at his tip. He felt as if he might go insane from the gentle touches on his heated length. She stared for a moment and then brought the glistening bead to her mouth, tasting and then screwing her face up and drawing back her head like a kitten tapped on the nose.

The sight made him desperate. “Elspeth,” he whispered. “Please.”

“Hmm?” she murmured absently, and then glanced up at him. She must’ve seen something in his expression, for she seemed amused. “Oh, very well.”

He thought he might have surcease. Might finally be able to reach his peak. But then she drew away from him, lounging against the pillows.

Did she mean to torture him further? She looked like a reclining Venus, all plump curves and pinkened skin, her nipples rose against the white of her breasts, the fine red hair over her mound damp and gleaming in the candlelight. Her juices were evidence of the pleasure he’d given her. She was a wanton, waiting for a personal servant to bring her grapes and wine so that she might watch him at leisure as he fought to keep from spilling.

“Now,” she said, tilting her head as if for a better viewing angle, “you may touch yourself.”

The order made his heart stutter. One thing to finish himself in the heated aftermath of loving her as he’d done that first night. Another to kneel before her and frig himself as she watched calmly. It was humiliating. Subservient.

He felt desire pull his balls up tight, and his prick jumped before he even took himself in hand.

She laughed lightly, breathlessly. “I think he’s eager, don’t you?” She looked him in the eye, smiling, a siren beyond even the gods’ imagination. “Go on.”

He held her gaze as he grasped himself, immediately pulling fast and roughly, the beat of his lust pulsing in his belly and his balls. He wouldn’t last long. Not if—

“No,” she said sternly. “Not so quickly. Gently, please.”

He nearly growled. “But I—”

“Want to spend?” She lifted a mocking eyebrow. He nodded mulishly. “No doubt, but I want to savor this. I want to watch every little change in your eyes and in your cock. And I’m the one in charge, am I not?”

“Yes,” he hissed, doing as she said, slowing his movements, touching himself lightly.

God, she was forcing him to tease himself.

“That’s right,” she purred, making herself more comfortable. “If only you could see yourself. I should have brought you to a room with a mirror and made you stand before it. Watch yourself as you work. Or perhaps I should invite other ladies to see you. We might have tea, all in our silks and lace, tittering behind our fans as you stand there, your chest flushed, sweat upon your brow and your cock. Your beautiful, magnificent, hard cock. I should charge them for a touch. Or better yet a taste. I’d let them each have one lick as you stood before them. A tiny sip to let them know exactly what I have in my possession.”

Bloody hell. He could imagine the scene, him naked in a mill of overly dressed women, sweating and straining as she made him perform for them. The thought alone was—

“Slowly,” she admonished. “Slowly, I said.”

He glared at her. Did she think him an automaton? Without feeling or sense? He couldn’t hold himself back. It was impossible.

As if she knew what he thought, she quirked her lips and said, “You can do it. I know you have a will of iron. Surely you have possession over your body?”

He gritted his teeth, trying to blank his mind, touching his prick with only fingertips, each stroke an exquisite agony.

She spread her legs wide, letting him see the dark coral of her pussy, plump and wet with her desire, the lips open so that he could see everything.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away, watching as she reached down and fingered herself.

He gasped, squeezing the base of his erection to stop from spilling at once.

“You seem very close,” she mused. “So hard and heavy and such a deep red, nearly purple, isn’t it?” She flicked her eyes to his. “I think you should take your hand away, just let me look for a moment.”

He didn’t know how he did it, but he obeyed. Kneeling, trembling, on the very precipice, his prick an obscene stand.

She did look, her gaze examining his straining erection, a smile curled at her lips. “Are your nipples sensitive? I’ve always wondered why men have them. If I sucked at one as you did mine, would you feel it?”

She waited expectantly for an answer, and he forced himself to nod jerkily. He must not think of the image his brain conjured from her words, but it slipped into his mind without his permission: Elspeth, spread over him, her head at his chest, delicately sucking at his nipple.

His cock pulsed with his desire, his entire being pounding with the same beat of want . Sweat was trickling down his back as he waited for her permission.

Her command to come.

“Please.” His voice was nothing but a slurred plea. “Let me come to climax. Please. ”

“Mmm.” Her head was tipped back, her eyes closed, her mouth opened helplessly.

He watched as she stiffened, her feet pointed, her hand clutching at the sheets, and shivered for a long, long moment. He groaned under his breath, wanting to touch her, touch himself, to simply let go and follow her in release.

Her body went limp, and she smiled, her eyes finally opening. “You’ve been so good. You didn’t touch yourself, did you?”

He shook his head, past the ability to speak.

“And I think that must be becoming painful,” she murmured thoughtfully. “I think… yes, I think you should touch just the tip. Very delicately, if you please.”

He swallowed, skimming his fingertips on oversensitive skin. Just that little touch was sending shudders racking through him as he tried to hold off. Hold on…

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispered, “trembling on the edge. I wonder how long I could make you stay balanced there? How long you’d let me.”

He watched her through half-closed eyes. “As long as you wish.”

She nodded. “The perfect answer. You deserve a reward. Stroke yourself.”

All it took was one downward fist, and he was coming, splashing against the sheets without care, so hard his body shuddered as if he were in the throes of death. Gasping, jerking as his penis continued to spurt the aftershocks of his spend. He’d never felt such an intense release in his life.

He came to himself, still trying to catch his breath, feeling as if he’d been through some sort of metamorphosis.

As if he wasn’t the same man as before.

The next morning the bed was empty.

Julian knew he shouldn’t feel disappointed. No doubt Elspeth had left before the maid could discover them. But he’d hoped to see her again this morning. Perhaps to kiss her. Perhaps more.

But that time was past now.

Julian dressed swiftly and exited Elspeth’s bedroom. At least they’d have breakfast together before she left. He’d have a few more hours with her.

But when Julian made the library, it was empty. He frowned. Was she still in the kitchen?

In the kitchen, Vanderberg sat at the table with a pot of tea, chatting with Mrs. McBride.

The valet rose swiftly on Julian’s entry. “I’m sorry, sir, to not wake you, but Lady Elspeth said you wished to sleep further.”

Julian waved aside his explanation. “Where is she?”

Vanderberg looked uncertainly at Mrs. McBride.

The cook straightened where she was kneading dough. “If you mean my lady, she left before dawn.”

“Left.” Julian blinked stupidly at the staring servants.

Then he turned and rushed back up the stairs.

Elspeth’s room was exactly as he’d left it, the bed unmade, the rumpled sheets tossed back. He’d been too eager to find her, he hadn’t really looked around the room. Now he saw that her bag was missing, along with the few possessions she’d brought with her—the comb she’d kept on her nightstand, the scatter of hairpins next to it, and, of course, Plum.

He should’ve realized at once when the dog wasn’t there to meet him at the bottom of the stairs this morning.

She’d truly gone.

He went to his own bedroom out of some sense that said to check all the possibilities. It was empty. No dog. No sweet woman looking at him with sunshine in her eyes.

He was turning to the door when something out of place caught his attention. A book lay on his washbasin, sitting primly next to his razor.

Julian reached it in two steps and saw a folded piece of paper atop the book. He smiled as he opened it. She’d left him a farewell note. Then he began to read, and his brows drew together.

Dearest Julian,

I thought it best to catch the early coach in town so as to not cause a commotion. I enjoyed greatly my time with you at Adders. I think you’ll be interested in this book. I found it the first night. I hope you can forgive me for keeping it from you until now.

—Elspeth

Julian slowly lifted the book, turning the pages until he found the first line in his mother’s handwriting. She’d had it all this time, lying to him. Gaily letting him fruitlessly search for it.

Elspeth had betrayed him.