Blood Lust Page 3

  Katherine bit her lip. Her fingers were numb, she couldn’t even feel if her thumbs were still attached to her hands. Unfastening the buttons at the back of her bodice would be impossible. “Perhaps the gown will dry,” she said, knowing there wasn’t a chance it would.

  “Don’t be a fool, take it off,” her captor scoffed. “You can go upstairs if you wish, though if I were you, being that the window is broken I’d stay down here where it is warm.”

  “Perhaps you are right, but the truth is, unless you wish to help me, I won’t be able to do it. My fingers are too cold to unfasten the buttons.” She couldn’t have reached them anyway, even if her fingers weren’t cold.

  “Turn around,” he muttered, scowling, his eyes darkening.

  With her knees still shaking, she did as he asked. Modesty had its place, but this wasn’t one of them. Holding back her embarrassment, she ignored the tickle of his big hands brushing her skin, and caught the gown against her bosom as the fabric fell away. When she turned, she found his broad back facing her, his eyes trained the opposite way. A gentleman. Who knew.

  Hurrying, hoping not to test his patience, she stripped to her chemise and wrapped the blanket snuggly around her.

  “What about you?” Walking toward the fire, she sighed as the satisfying warmth enveloped her.

  “I’m used to a little discomfort.” But he turned toward the fire and stripped away the soggy shirt over his head. For a moment, Katherine stood frozen. She had never seen a man’s bare chest and certainly never imagined one that looked like his. In the light of the fire, it rippled with muscles. A furring of dark brown hair covered the upper part and arrowed down, past the waistband of his breeches.

  “I’ll go fix the window,” he said, sitting down to tug off his boots. Katherine turned away, trying not to notice the rustle of fabric that meant he had stripped off his breeches. “Then perhaps we can both get some sleep.”

  Katherine said nothing to this. Her mind was still churning with the image of his hard male body, of what it must feel like to touch a body like that, whether the curly brown hair was as soft as it looked.

  She heard more rustling as he pulled dry clothes on, heard him as he climbed the stairs, then pounding some wood while he boarded up the window she had broken. So much for her daring escape. She hardly felt guilty for making the effort, yet she couldn’t shake the memory of the way he had protected her in the forest, the worry she had seen on his face.

  Who was he?

  Why did he have the stable boy address him as a peer?

  More importantly, now that her first attempt to escape had failed, how was she going to get away.

  William came downstairs when he was finished and once again led Katherine up the stairs. She was too exhausted to think about anything but sleep.

  For William, sleep would be fretful, as he remembered that fateful night that brought him to this point in his life.

  “Don’t even think about it! I forbid it! Do you understand?” The duke of Sussex bellowed, his face had turned a crimson shade of red. “You, my son are a Spencer,” the duke stated, his eyes glued to those of his rebellious son. “You are an earl, and heir to the duke of Sussex. I will not let your sordid affair with that, that woman to continue any further!”

  William’s spine had gone stiff. Standing in the walnut paneled library at Sussex Manor, the duke’s lavish country estate. William fought back the anger heaving through his body, his shoulders, muscles tight as a bow.

  “My God Father, the lady is the countess of Cromwell, not some back street harlot!” He was tall, well built, a fully grown man at twenty five, yet his father treated him as if he were a child.

  “She is also a widow and is five years older than you. It is also known that she will not settle for anything less than the Sussex title and vast fortune.”

  William’s hands balled into fists, as he tried to control his anger. “I refuse to let you speak of Jane that way. I will see whom I choose and you cannot forbid it.” Ignoring the sound of his father’s hand slamming into his massive walnut desk, William turned and walked out of his father’s office, his angry strides echoing on the wooden flooring. Rage pumped through him, and an icy resolve to put a stop to his father by whatever means he could.

  Outside, his sleek black gelding stood waiting, pawing at the earth in eager anticipation. William took the horse from the stable boy and swung into the saddle. In the window behind them, the candles flickered in his father’s library as his father strode out into the hall, then the sound of a door slamming that echoed through the mansion.

  A faint feeling of uneasiness ran through William’s body. His father surely would not follow him back to the inn. Even a stubborn, arrogant man like his father would never go that far.

  William watched a moment longer, but his father did not appear. Breathing a little easier, he directed his horse toward the road away from the manor. He was glad that the confrontation was over, at least for now. He urged the gelding into a canter, relaxing to the animal’s rhythmic pace. Bright rays of moonlight shone down through the tree branches.

  As the miles passed, his thoughts moved away from his father’s harsh words to those of a woman whose warm body awaited him. Jane Roberts, Lady Cromwell. Slender, beautiful, from the top of her elegantly coifed auburn hair, to her supple breasts and narrow waist, all the way down to the high, feminine arches of her feet.

  They had been seeing each other for the past six months, often meeting at an out of the way, well-appointed inn, the Lion’s Den. Tonight they had planned just such a rendezvous, and William grew hard inside his snug black breeches, just to think of the pleasure he would find when he joined Jane.

  It was a little more than an hour until the familiar wood arch marking the inn appeared in the courtyard, making his blood pump harder again. He rode into the walled courtyard of the inn, his horse’s hooves clattering on the cobbles. He dismounted, patted the huge gelding’s neck as he handed the reins to a stable boy.

  With long, eager strides, William began walking toward the rear of the building. Accessible from inside the inn, as well as having a second private entrance outside the room often served wealthy patrons. William walked even faster, as he took the stairs two at a time to the second floor. A brief knock on the door and Jane beckoned him inside.

  “My lord,” she said, her voice almost a whisper, smiling as she found herself in his arms. She was slim, but voluptuous, a portrait of beauty in the glow of the fire burning in the hearth. “William, my darling, I am so glad you came.”

  She pressed her lips against him and kissed him with fervent discard, making him instantly hard. He kissed her back with the same hot need he sensed in her.

  “Jane, my God, it seems like it’s been an eternity instead of just a week.” He kissed her on the spot below the rim of her ear, trailed kisses along her bare shoulders, and frantically began to work the buttons on her gown, a heavy green silk gown.

  For a moment Jane nearly faltered, “I was afraid, I know how your father feels. I thought you might not come.”

  “My father’s opinion does not matter. Not in this.” He kissed her again, as if to prove it, then began to kiss a path along the arch of her throat down to her breasts, but a pounding at the door stopped him.

  He wouldn’t, William thought, imagining the angry, reddened face of his father earlier. But as he had feared, when he opened the door, the duke stood in the opening.

  “I have come to have a word with both of you.” Eyes clashing, his father’s gaze darkened with a hint of steel. The duke’s fierce glare took in Jane’s dishevel, her rumpled gown and mussed up hair. “I won’t leave until I do.”

  William, fury, along with humiliation for Jane as well as himself, clamped his jaw tightly. “Just say what you came for, then leave.” He stepped back as his father walked into the room and closed the door. Sliding a protective arm around Jane’s waist, he silently cursed his father.

  The duke of Sussex met them with an icy stare and began
to speak. He frowned, his eyes moving toward a movement at the door on the other side of the room. For a moment he just stood there. Then the echo of a gunshot ended what he might have said, the deafening blast filling the room, the lead ball hitting him square in the chest.

  The duchess stifled a scream, and William gasped in horror at the scarlet blood flowing from his father’s waistcoat. The old man gasped, the spreading stain spilling out and pitched forward, both knees buckling beneath him.

  “Father!” The word exploded from William’s throat. He spun toward his father’s assailant and stared in horror into the familiar face of his brother, Benjamin, who had climbed the outside stairs and fired through an open window. William felt an agonizing pain burst in his head. The room began to spin and his legs went out from under him. His vision darkened.

  “Father. . .” he whispered, fighting the black swirling circles that rose in front of his eyes. With a groan, he slumped forward, landing unconscious a few feet away from the duke’s lifeless body.

  The duchess stepped over the shards of glass from the broken pitcher that lay scattered on the floor, opened the door, and the fashionably dressed man walked in.

  “Very good darling,” Benjamin Spencer said. “You’ve always had a quick wit about you.” Ignoring the pounding that began on the door leading into the inn, he knelt and pressed the still smoking pistol into William’s limp hand.

  The duchess smiled, “One should always be prepared when opportunity presents itself.”

  Benjamin nodded, “I hoped you’d be smart enough to realize the old man would never allow you to marry his son.”

  “I knew it, even if William did not.”

  “Well, now your problem is solved.” He surveyed the bodies on the floor. “I had no idea the old man would make it so easy.”

  “Open the door!” The innkeeper’s husky voice rang from the hallway. His heavy fists banged on the thick oak planks of the door.

  “Let me handle this,” he said.

  Jane arched a sleek brow, “Oh, I shall.”

  “And remember, a bit of scandal is a small price to pay for your share of a considerable fortune.”

  Her mouth curved up into a smile, “Never fear, I will remember, your grace.”

  William tossed and turned, sweat pouring off his brow. Finally he awoke, bolting upright in a sitting position. He would have his revenge on his brother in more ways than one he vowed.

  Chapter Three

  William dumped the last heavy pail of hot water into the wooden tub he had set before the fire. Already that morning he had cleansed himself in the icy water outside, trying to shake off the horrible dream that had plagued him. But it was no dream. He figured that after her muddy attempt to escape last night, the girl might appreciate a chance for some cleanliness too.

  Secretly, he wanted to see what she looked like. She’d been lovely when he had first seen her. How would she look with her pretty face scrubbed, instead of smudged with dirt?

  It was dangerous, he knew. He only had so much will and the lady tested it sorely. Last night, even muddy and bedraggled, he had wanted her. In the light of the fire, he had ached to caress her smooth skin, to bare her lush breasts and fill his palms with their pale, heavy weight.

  It sickened him to think that his brother might have touched her, kissed her, perhaps even made love to her. His jaw clamped shut at the image even as he heard the sound of the door being opened at the top of the stairs.

  Her head popped out. She surveyed the situation and him before speaking. “Good morning, my lord.”

  “Good morning. I trust you slept well finally.”

  “As good as could be expected, considering the circumstances.”

  William ignored the twang of guilt he felt. “I brought you some clean clothes. I thought you might like to take a bath before you put them on.” The young stable boy had provided them, since the lady’s trunk had been too large to carry on the back of his horse, an oversight both he and Damien had made when planning the abduction. Fortunately, the lad’s sister was close to the lady’s small size. William had paid the pair handsomely for a simple woolen skirt, white blouse and chemise, as well as a clean white night gown.

  “A bath, did you say?” She glanced down at the tub and her face lit up with a smile that would transform her face. “I would love a bath.”

  William smiled too. He had thought she might believe as so many English did that bathing led to illness. Apparently not, or she was willing to take a chance.

  “Are you hungry?” He tried not to stare at the bare skin showing itself above the blanket.

  “I am starving. Apparently being abducted hasn’t affected my appetite.”

  “There’s some cheese on the table, along with some bread and tea. I’ll wait outside until you finish bathing.”

  Katherine said nothing, she just stood on the stairs until he was gone and the door closed behind him. An exhausted sigh escaped her. Her body ached from last night’s misadventure and she had barely slept. She had awakened just after dawn to the rays of sun coming through the boarded up window. The storm had left as quickly as it had appeared.

  For a moment she’d forgotten where she was. She’d glanced at her surroundings, the bedchamber with the wooden dresser against the wall, the blue willow porcelain bowl and pitcher sitting upon it. A colorful quilt atop the bed, something she hadn’t noticed last night.

  As a prison, the room wasn’t such a bad place.

  Still, she was hardly safe here. Her abductor was just that and until she was free, she remained in danger. Her comfortable prison might wind up being her tomb.

  Descending the stairs, Katherine crossed the room to the window and looked outside. Spotting her captor splitting logs, she closed the curtains, then walked over to the small bathing tub. Nervously, she chewed her bottom lip. She was taking a chance, but the dirt and mud had to go, and the outlaw was so strong he could have ravished her by now if that was his plan.

  She tested the water and found the temperature to her liking as she tossed aside the blanket and stepped in.

  A sigh of sheer pleasure whispered through her lips. Exactly warm enough. She settled in as deeply as she could, enjoying the silky feel of the water against her skin. She then leaned forward to wash her hair. A cake of lavender soap had been left out just for that purpose, and overcome with contentment, she lathered the heavy strands to wash the mud away.

  She soaked for a while, washing her face and body until the water chilled. She stepped out and dried off with a small linen towel. A clean chemise, a white muslin blouse and a brown woolen skirt lay out on the sofa. She dressed quickly, ate the bread and cheese, then sat on a stool in front of the fire to dry her hair and drink a cup of tea.

  Having just about finished with her hair, the highway man pounded on the door.

  “You had better be in there, and you had better be dressed because I am coming in.” The door flew open and he appeared in the opening.

  Katherine tossed her hair back over one shoulder, sat down her mug of tea and stood to face him.

  “You didn’t tell me to hurry.”

  The outlaw said nothing.

  “I’m sorry if I took too much time. I was simply enjoying myself and not paying attention.”

  Her captor just stared.

  “My lord?” she said.

  He stepped into the room and closed the door. When he spoke, his voice sounded deep. “My apologies. I had begun to believe you had somehow gotten away. I can see I was mistaken.”

  She wet her lips. “Yes, you were. Thank you sir for the bath. It was much appreciated.”

  “There’s a brush and comb upstairs, if you need them.”

  “Yes, thank you.” The words sounded breathless, which was exactly the way she suddenly felt. He was looking at her strangely, making odd little flutters rise in her chest. “I was just on my way up to get them.”

  He remained where he was. Taking a moment to steady herself, Katherine walked toward him, passing him on
her way to the stairs, catching the smell of leather and sweat. Her hands were trembling. Why was her heart beating so hard?

  By the time she returned downstairs, her hair pulled back, he was kneeling near the flames, cutting up freshly washed vegetables and dropping them into a heavy iron pot, adding bits of mutton to what appeared to be a stew.

  She watched his dark head bent to the task, his hair tied back as it usually was, and remembered how wild and untamed he looked the night of the storm. He seemed slightly civilized now, yet the undercurrent was there, the danger.

  It forced her to remember her peril, the jeopardy she was in every moment she stayed there, the ruin she and her brother faced should she fail to marry the duke.

  The weather was clear, blue skies, a cool gentle breeze. In the long hours just before dawn, she had come up with another plan of escape. All she needed was a means to see it through.

  “I don’t suppose you’ve heard from the duke?”

  Turning to face her, he whispered, “The duke? Don’t you mean your future husband?”

  “I mean his grace, the duke of Sussex.”

  “No.” He went back to seasoning the stew, but beneath his white shirt, his muscles in his back appeared to be drawn more tightly than they were before.

  “I suppose there hasn’t been enough time. You did send the ransom note, didn’t you?”

  He looked at her and his bottom lip curved slightly. “Why would I not? That is the reason I brought you here, is it not?”

  “I suppose so. That is what you have said.” But he only glanced away. Why was it every time she mentioned the ransom, she got the feeling it had nothing to do with the reason she was there.

  Morning passed into afternoon. The outlaw spent much of the day outside, while she remained cooped up indoors. At least he had provided her with a large selection of books. Though he played the role of a gentleman, might even be a peer, she was still surprised that he could read.

  The next several hours she spent leafing through the volumes, but the pages failed to hold her interest. She had more important things to do. When he finally came back inside the house, she was pacing, determined to get on with her plan.