Chapter Eighteen

Alex liked these quiet after-dinner hours when everyone amused themselves.

They all sat in the drawing room, except Ellis who was buried in paperwork as usual. A careless servant had drawn the drapes, leaving a gap in the middle so that an occasional flash of lightning lit the room. Out at sea, the storm raged on, but despite the driving rain and a whistling wind that rattled the sashes, Stoney Hey had been spared thus far.

Alex removed his spectacles and folded The Whitby Gazette before setting it on the end table. Despite the gas lamps, it was almost too dark to read. Besides, Evie and Helen's activities proved an irresistible distraction. The two women sat at a small round table, a pewter bowl filled with water on the surface between them.

Carter must have noticed too because he lowered his copy of The Lancet . "What are you ladies up to?" Up to was a particularly apt phrase.

Alex frowned. "They're scrying, I think."

"Like fortune telling?"

"Nothing so inelegant. Miss Jones will stare into the dark waters until she sees prophetic visions. That's a more rarefied activity than gazing into a cheap glass ball like a carnival worker." Alex shrugged. "But yes, it's the same thing."

Thunder rumbled, followed a moment later by a bright white flash. The water sparkled and reflected light danced across Evie's face as she gazed at its shifting surface.

"How dramatic," Alex drawled.

"But of course," Evie said, as if she'd ordered the weather made to measure.

"Witch."

He received a grin for his pains. Their eyes met briefly but a great deal of communication passed between them. The shared humor of the moment. The affection they felt for each other. The promise of intimacies they would exchange once they were alone together. He would make his witch beg for his cock. Or perhaps he'd do the begging.

Helen rolled her eyes at both of them. "Do be quiet, Alex. Evie's going to show me how to see the future."

"Christ." This from Carter. "As if we don't have enough theatrics in our house."

Helen winked. "You love every moment."

Carter smiled in such a way that it was clear she was right.

Alex had always felt a certain kinship with the other man despite their vastly different circumstances, but that feeling was never stronger than at this moment. Their fates were sealed. Both utterly besotted. Drunk on love. Mated for life with their women like a couple of bloody swans.

But what happened when a swan got separated from his mate?

Evie stared into the water, her expression softening. She looked into the depths as tenderly as she sometimes looked at Alex in the moments after lovemaking. In that state between sleeping and waking. A trance state. "I see…" Her voice was a soft, dreamy whisper. "I see shadows. There is a shadow on your heart. You are afraid…"

Helen gasped and Carter half rose from his chair.

"You're afraid, but you won't allow these fears to hold you long. You will overcome them."

"I…" Helen's face was white. "How did you know?"

Evie looked up from the water, eyes clear, no trace of the apparent trance of moments ago. "Everyone's afraid of something," she said in her normal voice. "It was a sure target. As for the rest, I told you you'd overcome whatever's worrying you, which is exactly what you wanted to hear. See? It's easy."

Helen's sudden smile was radiant. "So simple that it's almost brilliant."

"Even if the sitter remains unconvinced, it's impossible to prove a fraud. There's virtually no risk."

Helen seemed happy, but Alex couldn't help but wonder what she was afraid of. He was incapable of ignoring the situation until she came to him, but taking her aside now would be far too obvious. He forced himself to wait until the end of the evening when everyone was saying good night.

"Helen, a moment." He drew her back into the drawing room.

She stood by the fire, arms crossed over her middle, brows raised. "You're about to ask me what I'm afraid of, aren't you?"

He winced. So much for subtlety. But then subtlety was never a family strength. "And you're probably going to say it's none of my business, but I've always supposed you were fearless, so you'll have to forgive my curiosity."

"As Evie said, no one is fearless." He waited. "Oh, very well. It's not even my fear, really. It's… Have you never wondered why Will and I don't have children?"

Of course he had, but after six years of childless marriage, he'd naturally assumed they couldn't and that he'd be trespassing on painful territory if he brought the subject up.

"It isn't because we can't. I assume we can. But there are ways to prevent conception, and as a doctor, Will knows more about that than most. You see, his first wife died in childbed and he didn't want to risk my health. I was happy enough with that at first. After ten years at Blackwell, I had no desire to rush to motherhood, but now…I'm thirty-two.

Now is the time."

"Is Carter being difficult?"

She glared at him. "Don't be ridiculous. Will's practically a saint. He wants me to do what makes me happy. But sometimes, when he doesn't think I'm paying attention, I catch him looking at me and the expression on his face is so…wistful. He's terrified, and even though I'll probably be fine, what if I'm not? I couldn't bear to put him through that loss again."

Alex was completely out of his depth and he must have looked it because Helen burst out laughing. "Don't worry. Will and I are old hands at this marriage business and we're going to be fine. We're going to try for a baby. I only wish life offered guarantees." Her smile faded. "It's you I'm concerned about."

"Me?" It had never occurred to him that Helen would worry about him. "Why on earth are you concerned about me?"

"Ever since I met you, I've known you aren't happy."

"I do all right." But he couldn't quite meet her gaze.

"You seem different when you're with Evie. There's light in your eyes because of her. I see you struggling to rectify our father's mistakes, trying to save the lands and houses. He's the one who really lost everything, Alex. You're about to throw away your chance of happiness because of him, and that… That infuriates me. He's done enough to both of us, don't you think? We mustn't allow him to go on ruining our lives from beyond the grave."

"You're right. He's the one who ran the estates into the ground. Whether through neglect or malice, this is his fault. But it doesn't matter. I'm Harcastle now. His mistakes are mine. As are his duties. People, innocent people, would suffer if I neglected my responsibilities."

"Perhaps," she said. "But I don't think you've tried hard enough to think your way out. Why is that, do you think?"

"I don't know what you mean." In any case, he had no business "thinking his way out." He was the duke. No one else could take up that burden for him.

"You think you don't deserve to be happy, that's what I mean."

"Bollocks."

"Now you sound like Will." She straightened his tie, a curiously maternal gesture. "I'm tired and I want my husband, but do something for me? At least consider the possibility that you might deserve to spend your life with Evie. Consider also what Evie deserves. The Harcastle chain is heavy and I for one think it's time you cast it off."

Alex lingered in the drawing room after his talk with Helen. The storm waned, though the wind still whistled down the chimney, making the flames dance in the grate. Unlike most gentlemen, he couldn't sit back in an easy chair with a brandy, so he had to content himself with his thoughts and those proved most unsatisfactory company.

His dutiful attempt at fulfilling his role as titular head of the family had resulted, as was so often the case, in a lecture from his younger sister. Helen was adept at seeing to the root of a problem, but she was wrong this time. She said he was throwing happiness away, but she might as well say he was throwing Evie away. And that was balderdash. Evie was the one insisting she had to leave. What could he do that he hadn't done or offered to do?

An answer was not forthcoming, no matter how intently he stared into the flames.

∞∞∞

It was past eleven by the time Alex finally headed upstairs.

He found Evie sitting on a rug in front of the fire in her nightgown, her slim legs tucked to one side. Her hair was loose for once and hung about her shoulders in a dark cloud. A series of cards lay spread out on the floor and she was studying them with a frown.

He closed the door behind him. "What do they say?"

She looked up and stared at him for several seconds. "What do you mean?"

"The cards. What does the future hold?"

She smiled. "I wouldn't know. I'm only playing Patience."

He went a bit nearer and saw that indeed the cards were ordinary playing cards set out in the appropriate formation. "Oh."

With a careless sweep of her hand, she scattered them and rose to her feet. There was something in her expression. An…intent. Her hair was wavy from being pinned so severely, unruly once it escaped its confinement. Much like her. A lock curled over one shoulder and he reached out without thinking. It was soft and silky against his fingers. Cool to the touch.

He remembered when he first saw her, how obsessed he'd been. Such a prim and proper exterior yet he'd known in his bones how wild she'd be when he bedded her. He wanted her again, wanted her every moment he was with her, and he saw that same yearning in her. The air crackled with tension.

He had to force himself to let go of that single lock of hair. Even that small connection was too much if he wanted to say the things he'd left unsaid this morning. Her refusal had sounded final. He ought to respect it, had intended to, but he couldn't. Not yet.

"We need to talk about—"

She kissed him. Kissed him as she had never kissed him, pulling him down by the lapels of his suit, sliding her arms around him, pressing her body against his. Even as he recognized a deliberate attempt to silence him, her mouth on his, firm and unyielding, hot and demanding, acted like a drug. Silvery mist obscured his thoughts as her tongue stroked his. When she finally broke the kiss, he stood there stunned and blinking.

"Tomorrow," she said. "We'll talk about all that tomorrow, but…"

Her hand was on his chest, over his heart, but now it drifted upward until her fingers touched his lips, still damp from their kiss. She traced the contours of his mouth until he couldn't help but smile. Their eyes met and held and he saw so much emotion in hers. "Tonight I need you." After that, he was her willing slave.

∞∞∞

If Alex thought Evie's wishes strange, he never said so.

She stood at the foot of the bed, holding on to one of the posts for support while he devastated her by doing exactly what she wanted. He undressed when she told him to, removing each garment and laying it on a chair. He didn't hurry but was efficient because somehow he knew what she needed. Or perhaps they were so well matched their tastes happened to align. She didn't want to be teased; she only wanted him naked and to witness him getting that way without artifice.

He moved with a fluid grace, his skin bronze in the firelight. He was strong, no doubt from all the usual gentlemanly pursuits. Thighs taut from riding. Shoulders broadened by fencing. The tense and release of his muscles hypnotized her. When he turned to set aside his shirt, she noticed as she never had before the sculpted perfection of his back.

It was not that she hadn't known he was beautiful. Of course she had. But first and foremost he was always Alex. She truly believed he could have the face and physique of a hobgoblin and she would still adore him. But now, as she strove to memorize his every feature, she was undone by him.

He still faced away from her as he removed his trousers and undergarments. She contemplated every inch of his long, lean legs and his glorious backside. Dukes, as far as she knew, were more often than not gout-ridden and decrepit. Alex had no business with an arse that enticing.

When he finally turned toward her, he was almost fully erect. His phallus, amid its patch of dark hair, stood proud against his stomach. Her eyes on him had done that. He was hard simply because she watched him.

He didn't speak, didn't even smile. He simply waited.

"Lie down," she told him.

And he did, flat on his back on the bed. She released her hold on the post and went to his side where she immediately drew the nightgown off over her head. One sweep up and over was all it took, and she caught the abrupt hitch in his breath. Her nipples hardened. Her tiny breasts felt full and heavy. They ached.

She stayed where she was, letting him get his fill. As his dark-eyed gaze traveled over the scant dips and curves of her body, the inside of her thighs grew damp. How could she be so ready when all they'd done was look at each other?

She knelt a moment on the bed, then straddled him. His hands came to rest on her hips, giving them a gentle squeeze. Her hair curtained them as she leaned in for another kiss. She marveled at the heat of his mouth, then shivered as her breasts grazed his chest. His cock twitched between them, so she reached down to guide him in.

His head rolled back against the pillows as he arched his back, greedy for more of her. His fingers bit into the flesh of her hips as he filled her. It was good but she needed more. She moved one of his hands up to her breast and, as she began to move, rocking her hips in long, slow undulations, he squeezed.

"Harder," she begged, and his hand tightened until it hurt.

He was magnificent. Head back, eyes closed, he gave himself up to her, and she drank in every detail. The turn of his throat. The way sweat dampened his temples. Even the sweep of eyelashes on his cheeks. The bronze cast of his skin against the pale globe of her breast. The strength in him as he twisted beneath her. The angry crease of his brow.

She learned him. She memorized him.

Because this was the last time.

As if he'd read her mind, he canted violently to one side, overturning her, reversing their positions so that he loomed over her. His eyes were wide open as he pinned her to the bed and drove into her again and again. Holding his gaze, she met each thrust of his hips, as desperate, as angry, as he.

It was all they needed. This fire, this mutual conflagration. Her entire body— No, her entire self lit up, tiny sparks shivering along every nerve and sinew, as they cried out together.

But it wasn't enough. It would never be enough. And, before the tremors even ended, she knew they would have to begin anew. She would sleep on the train. For now, she needed him again.

∞∞∞

Once Alex was asleep, Evie slipped out of bed and went into the magic lantern room where she had hidden her clothes and carpetbag behind a chair. Sneaking around was beneath her. Such a low, mean way to treat Alex. But she couldn't go on like this.

She knew him. If she told him she was leaving, if she waited to say goodbye like a proper adult, he would try once more to persuade her to stay. If he did that, she didn't trust herself. She was one conversation away from allowing him to seduce her into accepting a life she knew would make her unhappy. Weak as she was, she couldn't face him. If that made her a coward, so be it. At least she was a coward who knew her limits.

Alex was a heavy sleeper and she'd made sure his breaths were slow and deep before she left the bed. Even so, she couldn't take any chances. No last longing look into the bedroom. She hardened her heart, forced herself to think of him as she had that first night when he'd looked at her with cold, dead eyes. He wasn't the man who'd been so tender. He was the aristocrat. The skeptic. The man who'd wanted to destroy her livelihood on a whim. He was the man who would forget her, no matter what he might say in the throes of passion.

She dressed swiftly and crept into the corridor, the carpetbag clutched to her chest, his money sewn into the lining of her bodice. The way was almost entirely free of clutter. The only end table stood at the top of the stairs where she had left an unlit lantern. Despite the powerful urge to rush, she made herself stop and light it. The longer she lingered, the more likely she'd be caught, but if she tripped in the dark, she risked waking everyone or, worse, she might break her neck on the stairs.

The house seemed even larger at night. It wasn't only the darkness. No servants bustled about their work. No butler skulked in the shadows. All was silence. Only the ticking of a clock somewhere and the whine of the wind in the trees disturbed the perfect stillness.

What a pity she couldn't say goodbye to Helen and Dr. Carter. She liked them very much. At least they'd be here to comfort Alex when he realized she was gone.

With the aid of the lantern, she reached the front door without incident. The heavy bolts slid back with more noise than she liked, but she was far enough from the bedrooms and servants quarters that she got away with it. A rush of cold air hit her as she stepped outside. Despite her coat, she shivered.

Thanks to her reconnaissance when Alex had been busy in Stoneman's Bay, she knew the lay of the grounds well enough to find her way unerringly to the cliff path. By the time she stood on it, the horizon was beginning to gray. She still needed her lantern, but dawn approached. Once she reached the village, she wouldn't have too long to wait for the first train. With luck, she would be well on her way when Alex woke, but first she had to get there.

The wind whipped at her skirts until she thought she might take flight. She had to shelter the lantern with her body or risk losing her light. Managing both the lamp and the carpetbag on the long, winding path proved a struggle.

Why are you doing this? a rebellious voice asked. This is stupid .

As if to confirm her thoughts, she fell forward. She heard the glass shatter a second before the flame went out.

Oh God, oh God. A terrible dizziness pinned her to the ground. The tide was in and waves crashed far beneath her. Above, the inky black abyss of the sky went on forever. Her hands tore at the grass as if the fragile blades could somehow anchor her and stop her from being sucked into the ether. Why she should fear that and not the fall, she couldn't imagine. Logic was beyond her by then.

She stayed where she was, crouched on the path. A series of deep breaths and she was calm enough to count slowly. When she could bear it, she stared out at the graying horizon. It wasn't even full dark anymore. She could manage without the lantern. She would be fine.

The path stretched ahead. She focused on what she could see of it and forced herself to stand. At least she only had to manage the bag now.

Panic receded and she began to inch forward again. As her confidence increased, she was able to quicken her steps to a more natural walking speed. Farther down, the track curved away from the precipice and the way was easier. She would make the first train. Once it was moving, then she would allow herself to remember the warmth in Alex's eyes when he looked at her. She would recall every moment from last night, each image she'd branded into her memory. A self-inflicted wound, a deliberate scar that would never fade. But for now, she suppressed those thoughts.

Soon she would be beyond Captain's reach. He wouldn't be able to use her to hurt Alex. With her gone, Alex could brush him off. Captain would be reduced to an irritant, a pest, a fly. Or perhaps he would try to hurt Helen. If he did, Alex would crush him.

And then what?

Alex would go on as he had before. Eventually he would marry. Perhaps he'd even be happy with his rich bride.

Ahead, she could make out the main road. Once she'd reached it, she'd find the signpost to the train station. Her steps faltered, and she looked back over her shoulder toward Stoney Hey. Even in daylight, she couldn't have seen it from this angle, but she looked back anyway. One last time.

"Goodbye," she whispered.

Straightening her shoulders, she walked away.