Chapter 9

Nine

T he weather began to mirror her own unsettled feelings. A swirl of fog eddied around the cottage while a series of rain showers beat an intermittent tattoo against the weathered stone. With a slight shiver, Aurora added another log to the dying fire, trying to ward off a chill of foreboding.

Oh, stop waxing melodramatic! She took a deep breath as flames leapt up from the embers and cast a welcome glow of light over the hearth. The prose—and pictures—of the volume she had been reading were starting to affect her reason. It was time to put such storybook nonsense aside and return to behaving like her normal, sensible self rather than like an impressionable schoolroom miss. Still, the rest of the room seemed shrouded in an ominous gloom and she couldn’t help but slant a nervous glance behind her, half expecting to catch a glimpse of some mad monk skulking in the flickering shadows.

What she did spy, carefully closed with its cords drawn tight, was the bag of Alex’s belongings. Her eyes lingered on the weathered canvas. What secrets lay inside?

What sort of personal matters did he wish to keep hidden away? His reticence was hardly to be wondered at, she supposed, for a man in his profession must learn to be guarded, and that trusting in others could be dangerous.

Her lips quirked up. Rather like herself.

But there were other qualities about Alex that had surprised her. One might have expected a seasoned soldier to be hard and unbending, charging forward with weapons drawn and nary a waver to his step. Yet there was more to him than that. On further acquaintance he had proved to be a man of great complexity, a strange mix of steel tempered with compassion and kindness. Indeed, he seemed to have as many facets as the jewel whose color his eyes so resembled. And as with the precious stone from the East, the light winked and flashed off all his surfaces, but the real essence remained somehow elusive.

A mystery.

Heaving a snort of disgust, Aurora poked at the fires. Her overactive imagination was threatening to turn this whole evening into a chapter worthy of Mrs. Radcliffe’s pen. There was no need to act as flighty as one of those peagoose heroines. Nor was it sensible to make Alex Woodmore into some brooding, sensitive hero when he was merely a well-trained British officer intent on accomplishing a difficult mission.

Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to retreat to the other room to comb out her curls and don her nightrail.

It was eminently reasonable to be cool, calm and detached about the whole thing. She would simply crawl beneath the covers of her pallet and fall asleep. By morning, the matter would be settled and they could all get back to the normal course of their lives. Her head settled against the thin pillow, and at the thought of returning to her snug little cottage and Robbie’s comfortable companionship, a sigh stole forth from her lips. It was prompted by a sense of relief, she assured herself as her eyes squeezed shut, and not by any other sentiment.

No more than a quarter of an hour later, a sharp noise caused her head to shoot up. Was it the snap of a branch or the crack of a pistol? Muttering several choice words under her breath, she punched at the pillow and turned on her side. Wind rustled the leaves—or was it the sound of an approaching rider? This time, the unladylike oath was more than audible. Abandoning all pretense of sleep, she rose and wrapped one of the thin blankets around her shoulders, then returned to her pacing before the dying embers.

The faint stirrings of warmth did nothing to loosen the cold knot of worry that had formed in the pit of her stomach. What if he had taken another bullet and lay wounded in some ditch? Her fingers clenched at the rough wool. She must stop such worrying! Not only did it do no good, but she would likely be teased unmercifully if he returned to find her lapsing into a state of girlish vapors.

Or what if the blade of a knife had …

A rasping of metal causing her head to jerk around toward the door, but the cry of alarm gave way to one of welcome as the tall figure who slipped inside shook the drops of rain from his coat, the familiar set of shoulders unmarred by any trace of injury.

“Here now, since I’ve managed to avoid being shot or stabbed earlier tonight, I would prefer not be strangled at the last minute,” he said gently, though he made no move to unclasp her arms from around his neck.

Aurora buried her cheek against his damp shirt, but the tart rejoinder to his teasing dissolved into a burbled sob.

A light caress brushed over her loosened hair. “It’s all right, sweeting,” he whispered. “It’s over.”

Her eyes flew up. “You—Jack?—”

“Both of us are fine. And thanks to your help, the threat to our country is at an end as well.” He took both her hands in his and led her to the table. “I shall tell you all, but first, perhaps you might fetch that flask from your reticule. I think we could both use a medicinal draught.” A glint of amusement cut through the fatigue in eyes. “That is, unless it really did break along with the bottle of vinaigrette. But I sincerely hope not.”

Aurora could not deny that the fiery brandy did indeed send a jolt of warmth through her insides, but it was not nearly as potent as the heat caused by the closeness of his person. She passed the flask back to him and watched as he raised it to his lips and took a long swallow before speaking again.

“It went very much as we had planned,” he began in a low voice. “Jack trailed the two of them from the small inn to the only cove where a small boat might put in with any safety. I was already well hidden among the rocks, and we took them by surprise, just as they were beginning the steep descent down to the water’s edge. Our friend from the inn tried to draw his weapon, but Jack dropped him with a single shot.” He paused and took another draught. “The lady, on seeing she was trapped, attempted no such resistance. She merely gave me a strange sort of smile—almost a salute—and simply stepped over the edge.”

His fingers sought out a sheaf of papers from inside his shirt. They were torn in several places and bore faint but unmistakable streaks of blood across the crumpled foolscap. “A pity such courage and cunning could not have been put to better use,” he said with a trace of weary sadness in his voice. “Her accomplice was only winged. Jack is seeing to the man’s wounds, and to having the local magistrate take care of the other body without raising any awkward questions. He will spend the night in the village to make sure the incident is hushed up, then in the morning he’ll head off to London with his prisoner. Perhaps with thorough questioning we’ll find some sort of answer for all the blood that has been shed. But I doubt it.” For a moment his eyes pressed closed and Aurora was shocked by the spasm of pain that tugged at his features.

“You have not become used to the sight of death?” she whispered.

“No. And I should hope that I never shall.” His gaze strayed to the few flames that still licked up from the glowing coals. “Death is a terrible waste. It serves to remind me that life is infinitely precious, though I have been wont to fritter it away as casually as a drunken gambler tosses his blunt down on the table of chance.”

The note of regret in his voice caused Aurora to reach out and catch up his hand. “You, of all people, have too much integrity to have ever allowed your dreams to be bought or sold in such a frivolous manner. Of that I am sure.”

“Are you?” A muscle twitched at his jaw. “Soldiers are a mercenary lot,” he replied with some bitterness, seeking to free his fingers from her grasp. “Aurora Sprague, you don’t know the first thing about me.”

The blanket had slipped from her shoulders as he sought to pull away. Ignoring the fact that nothing but a thin layer of white lawn cotton covered the swell of her breasts, Aurora refused to be brushed aside so easily. “I may have no knowledge of whatever past mistakes or triumphs or disasters have shaped your character, but I have seen enough of you to know what good qualities lurk within your heart, no matter how much you seek to keep them a secret.” Her mouth had ended up only inches from his. “I-I hadn’t thought it likely that there existed a male whose overweening conceit and bullying nature did not overshadow any?—”

Alex did not allow her to finish. His lips came down upon hers, cutting off all words save for an inarticulate cry from deep in her throat. With an answering groan of passion, he was all of a sudden on his feet, the table knocked over on its side as he gathered her in his arms.

“I fear I don’t deserve your high opinion, but I am weak enough to accept it, because I want it very badly.” His hand was cupping one of her breasts, his fingers coaxing the rosy tip to a throbbing hardness. “I want it very badly, indeed,” he murmured, lowering his head to take the nub and a swirl of sheer fabric between his teeth.

Aurora feared that for the first time in her life she might swoon. Only the thought that she would then be unconscious to the glorious things he was doing to her body kept her senses from going completely blank. She arched under his touch, her knees clenched around his thigh to keep her legs from careening off in opposite directions. The soft cries that filled the darkened room echoed with an urgent need she would never have recognized as her own, having never experienced it before.

Her hands clung to the damp linen of his shirt, then loosened the fastenings and slid inside, her palms running over the coarse curls and bare skin. His own low moans mingled with the sounds of her passion, and suddenly her nightrail was lifted up and over her head, leaving her completely naked to the rovings of his touch.

“Sweet Jesus,” he whispered hoarsely, yanking off his own shirt so that she might explore the breadth of him. They had somehow moved to the far side of the hearth and Alex slowly lowered their entwined bodies down onto the pallet that had served as his bed. “Has it been a long time since you have been with a man, sweeting?” he asked, as his mouth grazed over one nipple, then the other.

She nodded, finding it impossible to speak any coherent word.

“Then I shall try to go slowly.” He sat up and tugged off his boots with barely concealed impatience. “Though in truth I feel no more in control than a randy schoolboy about to have his first experience at lovemaking.” His breeches followed and he turned to straddle her, as unclothed as she was.

In answer, she reached up and pulled his head down, opening her mouth in intimate invitation for him to enter her. Their tongues touched in a heated embrace, and Aurora felt something ignite in the core of her being. His hand left a trail of sparks along the soft planes of her belly, and when it came to rest at the downy triangle between her legs, she was positively on fire.

Aurora cried out—for what she wasn’t sure. But Alex seemed to have no trouble interpreting her need. His fingers began a slow, circular caress and for a moment she thought she might go up in smoke.

“Alex. Oh, Alex,” she moaned, nipping at the tanned flesh of his neck.

“Has your husband never pleasured you in such a way?” he demanded, increasing both the rhythm and intensity of his touch.

“N-n-no.”

“Then he should be cursed as a lout as well as a fool,” he growled.

“Please—I-I do not wish to speak of my husband,” she whispered.

”Nor do I, sweeting. I don’t intend for you to think of any man save me at this moment.”

Aurora gasped as he slipped a finger inside her passage.

“Lord, you are ready for me, and I—I can wait no longer.” With a slow thrust of his hips, he buried himself deep within her.

She flinched, a small squeak escaping her lips. Alex made a startled sound of his own and withdrew with a hurried jerk. Stunned, he stared at the trace of blood. “Why, you are an innocent.” he exclaimed, his voice rough with shock.

“I-I suppose that means you don’t want me either,” she replied, turning her head so he could not see the tears welling up in her eyes.

“Don’t want you?” he repeated in some confusion.

“Yes! There is always something about me that puts men off. I am too opinionated, too independent, too headstrong. And now, it seems, too inexperienced.”

She tried to squirm out from beneath him, but he kept her firmly down against the rumpled sheet. “You think I don’t want you? That I am in some way upset that you have known no other man’s touch?” When she didn’t answer, he took her face in both hands and tilted it so that she could not avoid meeting his eyes. The color of blue in them was smoky, as if he, too, was alight with some inner fire. His lips possessed a searing heat as well, as they slowly traced a path across each cheekbone. “I have never wanted a woman as much as I want you right now.” He fanned her hair out over the pillow and twined his fingers in the silky curls before taking her mouth in another long, lingering kiss.

“R-really?” Aurora touched his chin and gave a tentative smile. “You aren’t going to stop, then?”

“I could not stop myself now, no more than I could stop the sun from tingeing the horizon with the glorious light of a new day, my sweet Aurora.” He entered her again, with great care, and began a slow, gentle rocking. “You must tell me if I am hurting you.”

Her hands clung to his muscled shoulders. “Oh no! Alex, it feels …” Her words drifted off as she started to match his rhythm.

A husky chuckle tickled her ear. “What, no adjectives come to mind? Let me see if I might bring one or two to mind.” Urging her legs to wrap around his hips, he sparked a hotter pace to their union. Soon she was in flames again.

A jolt of heat surged through her, then suddenly exploded with a shuddering flash of light. “Divine,” she mouthed against his stubbled cheek, feeling indeed as if she had just ascended to heaven. She heard him cry out too, a hoarse, elemental sound as he buried himself to the hilt and achieved a long and liquid release.

Then they lay still, joined as one, and she could feel the warmth of his passion deep with in her, hear the pounding of his heart over the racing of her own pulse and taste the salty tang of exertion upon his skin.

Rather than engendering any sense of loss, the surrender of her maidenhood made her feel strangely whole.

Alex twined a length of her hair around his fingers and held it up to the faint glow of the flickering coals, reveling in the subtle nuances of color. It reminded him of Aurora herself. Each shift of light seemed to reveal a new and intriguing shade. With such infinite possibilities, he couldn’t imagine that it would ever become boring to behold. His gaze shifted to her face. The same was true for her person. Eyes closed, she lay with her head to one side, the shadowed profile of her strong features in silhouette against the lighter covering of the pillow.

She was without question the most compelling female he had ever met, this young lady whose life had become so inextricably intertwined with his own. Already he had discovered so much beneath the surface of her scowls and sharp words. There was courage, intelligence, sensitivity and, finally, a depth of passion that had left his senses rather singed. Surely it would take a lifetime, at the very least, to begin to fathom the depths of her character.

His jaw tightened. He had no right to think in such terms. Neither of them were free to contemplate any future beyond the next dawn.

She stirred, and with an odd sense of loss, he shifted the length of his spent body to one side, then cuddled her close to his bare chest. Good Lord, he liked the feeling of her warmth against him, and the fresh scent of lavender and sunshine that wafted up from her skin.

A sigh caught in his throat. He supposed he should feel some measure of guilt or shame at deflowering another man’s wife. But he didn’t. The only emotion coursing through him was a fierce happiness, coupled with a desire to keep her safe, encircled in the protection of his arms. Whatever the law said, she was his in some irrevocable way. Nothing could change that.

Her eyes opened and a shy smile came to her lips. “Alex Woodmore,” she murmured, venturing to run her fingers through the dark curls on his breast. “I had always thought men selfish, caring only for themselves, but you are so different. With your strength and compassion, you have shown me that the notion of honor is indeed more than a hollow word.”

It was as if a knife had been plunged in his gut.

“I had always thought men supremely arrogant as well,” she continued. “But you are not afraid to ask for help or to receive it. Nor are you pompous—you have a wonderful sense of humor and most importantly, you can laugh at yourself.” She settled her cheek at the base of his throat. For a moment there was silence, save for the whisper of her breathing, then she went on in a halting voice, “For the first time, I find myself wishing to know if my so-called husband is still alive. So that I might know whether—I am free.”

He had only to remain silent, he told himself. Surely it was not so very wrong to let her believe that if not for her own situation he might. No! She had suffered enough betrayals at the hands of men. He could not offer false promises, not even if they were unspoken rather than any overt lies.

His hand came up to brush a loose tendril from her forehead. “Sweeting,” The words nearly stuck in his throat. “There is something you should know. I am married as well.”

Aurora became utterly still. Then, after the initial shock had passed, she mustered all of her considerable resolve and managed to make an even reply. “I see.”

His body was all of sudden like a block of ice, its touch chilling her to the very marrow. Suppressing a shiver, she jerked away. Her head turned to stare into the black shadows so he could not see the look of utter desolation that quivered on her features, or the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks.

A lex had a wife!

No doubt it was her love letters tucked away in his bag that he had been guarding so zealously. And the book! No wonder he had been angry. The book was no military code—it was really meant for her, too. Or rather, the two of them. He used it to remind himself of all the delectable things he meant to do with her when he finally returned home from the sordid business of war.

Aurora bit at her lip so hard she nearly drew blood. Of course he had a home. And his wife was there, ready to welcome him from the battlefields, ready to cook his meals, wash his shirts and warm his bed. Lord, he probably children as well, eager to pull at his long legs and tickle his chin.

Somehow the thought of a dark haired little boy or girl with sapphire blue eyes and a crooked smile was almost too much to bear.

He had a real home and a real family. She had neither.

How could she have been such a bloody, bloody fool! How could she have been gulled into thinking Alex was different from other males. And how could he have led her to believe she was more than just an amusing diversion during a rather grim mission? Now that duty was done, it was clear he was quite ready to put all thought of it—and her—out of his mind. The heartless wretch!

It seemed she needn’t have searched so hard for adjectives to describe him, for the usual ones would suit quite nicely.

Selfish. Manipulative. Philandering.

Well, it would not be the first time a man had taken advantage of her. As on the previous occasions, anger gave her the strength to shore up her crumbling heart.

“Aurora—” he began hesitantly.

“If you think you must offer some flowery apology, don’t bother,” she said in brittle voice. ”After all, what does it matter?”

“I never lied to you.”

“Oh, quite right, sir.” Her voice was sharp with sarcasm. “You took great care that such an accusation could not be laid at your door.”

Alex reached out but she stiffened at the first graze of his fingers and shifted to avoid his touch. In some confusion, he let his hand fall away. “I’m sorry,” he faltered. “You must believe I never meant to hurt?—”

But he had!

She wanted to bury her head against his shoulder and drown her pain in a flood of tears. She wanted to wrap her arms around his waist and have him fill the aching emptiness inside her. She wanted to take his face between her hands and have him tell her he …

Instead, she forced a harsh laugh to interrupt his words. ”I can hardly castigate you, sir, for your infidelity. After all, I am also just a common adulteress, so we both should be ashamed of our actions tonight. But perhaps such an inconvenient emotion goes away with practice. You would know better than I.”

She paused to draw in a ragged breath. “Tell me, does your wife know of your affairs? Or, like most females, does she simply accept it as the way men are? Perhaps she is content, as long as your occasional attentions leave her dewy-eyed and round with your child.” Hating the bitterness that had seeped into her voice, she bit off any further words.

Aurora heard him give a harried sigh. “It’s not like that at all. I?—”

She waited, but he didn’t continue. “You what?”

He still didn’t answer.

Feeling raw and awkward in her nakedness, she clutched one of the rumpled blankets to her breast and then stood up. “Good night, sir. I am tired and wish to seek some sleep. After all, both of us have had a trying day.”

He let her go, unable to wrap his tongue around any explanation that might give her cause to stay. Would she have thought any better of him had he admitted to the truth of his marriage? That he had used such solemn vows to gain his own ends, without a passing thought for the female who had been left trapped in the legshackle?

Not bloody likely!

And he could hardly blame her, for he wasn’t feeling much in charity with himself either, regardless of the fact that the circumstances of his nuptials had been none of his own choosing. In many ways, he knew he was no better than her own lout of a husband for shirking his responsibilities, even though it hadn’t been until she had made him see things from a different perspective that he had realized how damnable his own actions had been.

Turning onto his back, Alex stared up at the sooty, rough-hewn beams, a wry grimace causing his lips to purse. Hell’s Teeth! Now that he thought about it, there was something else he and her husband had in common. Neither of them had bothered to consummate his marriage before abandoning it for self-proclaimed freedom. It was an odd coincidence, but …

The thought was dismissed with a shrug. Of the two of them, he, at least, had made up his mind to seek some measure of redress for the injured party. His supposed wife deserved another chance at finding happiness, even if he did not. As soon as he got to London, he vowed his first order of business as the Earl of Woodbridge would be to see about arranging an annulment. With his new wealth and title, it should not prove too difficult. He doubted the Countess would have much of an objection, not when she was presented with the generous settlement he meant to provide for her.

Once he was free, truly free, perhaps he might hope ….

Might hope what ? That Mr. Sprague no longer existed? Or that if he did, he could be convinced to grant Aurora an annulment? His lips compressed in grim line. Is that what he wanted? His breath came out in a ragged sigh. Lord, he hadn’t even begun to sort out his feelings regarding her, much less make any sense out of them. And in any case, he was rushing his fences.

Maybe the first thing he had better hope for was that Aurora did not hate him.

But perhaps if she knew the full story, and what amends he meant to make for his sordid past, she would find it in her heart to forgive him. At least he must venture a try, for what he had left unsaid had caused a wound too grievous to heal by itself. His own tongue-tied embarrassment had caused her to think yet another male had simply used her for his own amusement, then cast her aside, as a child would a toy whose performance had paled or part had cracked.

Nor must she, on any account, be left to believe he had a real marriage, with a willing wife and doting children. He had caught a glimpse of her face, despite the shadows. The thought of such a betrayal had been like a knife in the back. The hurt of it, if left to fester, might slowly cause the life in her to take sick and die, leaving nothing but a brittle, withered shell.

First thing in the morning, he would make her listen to the truth. In doing so he would be abandoning all his soldierly instincts and making himself vulnerable to another person. Yet somehow, the idea of exposing his weaknesses to her was not as frightening as he had imagined. He had long ago ceased to think of Aurora as he did other females. Rather than seeing her as the enemy, he considered her more as a friend, a trusted comrade in arms..

Lud, what a muddle. But he was too exhausted to think on it any further. Trusting that dawn would help shed a fresh light on things, he drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep.