In which a scene of seduction is thwarted
We all lie to those closest to us, because it is their judgement that we fear the most.
- from Lady Avely’s Guide to Lies and Charms
Judith scrawled a hasty note, and sent Dacian downstairs to deliver it to Robert in the stables. This time, he locked the door behind him, not trusting to leave Judith unprotected in the room. When he returned, he was scowling under his long nose and bald head. He locked the door once more and flung himself around the room in a fury of impatience.
“I say we charge into the drawing room,” he said. “Throw some things around. Yank the chatelaine off the old hag.”
Judith tutted. “You know we cannot do that. We must fetch the accounts first, as our proof, and let Robert recover his wits and do his part. It is better we wait until dusk, regardless, so that Marigold is fully awake and able to move quickly.”
Dacian growled and threw himself onto an armchair. “I cannot bear to sit around all that time.” He thrust his jacket off, thereby casting aside the Illusion of the valet’s features. Black hair and smouldering eyes sprung back into view as he threw a hungry glance at the soup. “Can I have some of that?”
When Judith nodded, he took the bowl and rapidly consumed half of its contents. Then he insisted that Judith eat the rest. She found she was more able to stomach the thought of it, now that she knew Marigold was safe. To make eating easier, she removed her pocket watch charm. It was a relief to have her own face again, even if she still wore a coat, shirt, and breeches.
She dipped the bread into the broth. It was tasty beef stew, and she breathed in its warmth gratefully. Garvey House possessed a good cook, at least. No doubt that was part of Harriet’s hold over Lady Garvey: that she ran a good kitchen.
Dacian calmed down now that he had something in his stomach and had his hair back. He watched her from the armchair and Judith studiously avoided his gaze. Now that the rush of planning and action had faded, she found she could remember with prickling clarity how she had told him how handsome he was, and apologised for trying to seduce him last night.
Why the devil had she apologised for that? She was half inclined to try again, except that she was in breeches. She didn’t feel quite as confident without her feminine accoutrements. After all, she didn’t even have a mobcap for him to seductively remove.
Nonsense, she told herself. Don’t be a ninny. You can proceed without a mobcap. Now is the time for courage. You don’t know what will happen this evening…
The thought of Dacian’s slain body in the maze was all that was needed to give her spirit a kick of resolution.
“Come.” She put her empty bowl aside and patted the bed. “Sit with me.”
Dacian jumped up with alacrity and was at her side within a moment, taking her hand and smiling.
Judith, flustered, put her other hand over his. “Dacian.”
“Judith.”
“I am not Bemused.”
“Are you certain?” He cocked an eyebrow, even as his voice deepened, taking her meaning. “You were listening rather closely to Miss Belfleur.”
“She was telling the truth, and I think that perhaps lies are more exhausting to me.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes.” Judith took a deep breath. “Therefore I am quite in possession of all my wits… and I want you to kiss me.”
“Oh?” He leaned forward and undid the scarf from around her neck. The soft cloth trailed over her skin. The sensation was exquisite, and she tilted her head back slightly. Yet he paused, leaving her exposed. “Is this because I am a convenient rake?”
She brought her chin back down, and met his eyes. “It is because you are you.”
“Judith.” His voice was husky, but he simply trailed his finger under her chin, then down her neck, leaving a line of fire. “I have always wanted you, ever since I first saw you.”
He leaned forward and kissed her.
He took his time: deliberate and masterful, as if to relish the moment that she was finally becoming his. Soon her whole being was aching with impatient desire, heightened by all the danger they still faced together. She grasped at his arms, pulling him closer.
Following her directive, Dacian climbed onto the bed, and all pretence at restraint vanished. He thrust her against the bedhead, pushing her blankets aside and claiming every inch of her with the length of his hard body.
Judith pressed back, to be as close as possible, glad now that only thin breeches and not thick petticoats separated them. Dacian’s kiss became devouring, and she returned it with fervour. She ran her hands over his dear shoulders and through his thick, darling hair. His embrace reverberated through her entire being, tilting her life on its axis as it did so. She was more than content, now, to surrender her whole being to him.
A soft tap came at the door, and they froze.
“My lord?” The low tones were hard to identify. Mrs Froode? Harriet? “Are you awake?”
Dacian’s head withdrew, his eyes widening. There was a taut silence.
Then, with admirable presence of mind, he let out a huge snore.
Judith jumped. The sound reverberated right next to her ear, and it was quite shocking to her tightened nerves. After a moment, he did it again, sounding much like a horse with a bad case of influenza.
She pressed her lips together to hold back a laugh. Dacian grimaced and backed away another arm’s length, only to expel another grunting snore.
There was silence from the door, alert and listening.
Judith gestured in encouragement, and Dacian continued to snore, snorting at intervals. Judith bit the inside of her cheek. His warm hand still rested on her shoulder, fingers pressing through her coat, and his legs were tangled with hers.
She ached to run her hands all over him, but she dared not distract him from his current duty.
After an excessive number of snores, they heard the footsteps finally recede. To be safe, Dacian kept on with his performance for another minute, while Judith rubbed her own cheek with relief.
“That was close,” she whispered.
“Fortunately, we were simply kissing,” he murmured, and finally desisted. “Perhaps we should return to that activity?”
Her eyes traced his beautiful lips. “What if it were Harriet? And what if she should come back?”
“Damn it, she might.” Dacian grimaced.
“I do not trust us to hear her, not in the heat of passion.”
He scooped her close again, and claimed a searing kiss. “I like it when you talk of the heat of passion.” He kissed her again, warmly on the cheek, then throat, leading lower as his hand deftly undid her waistcoat buttons.
Judith placed a finger on his lower lip to stop him. “We must be cautious. It would be a shame to toss our cards on the floor now.”
Dacian groaned, but he settled back on the pillow, renouncing her waistcoat. One arm still possessively embraced her, however, keeping her close. “You will drive me mad, Judith.”
She blushed, yet drew away a little. “The feeling is mutual.” She hesitated, wondering if she should confess that it was not just desire that muddled her senses, but love: deep, ridiculous, heart-wrenching love. Then she closed her lips, remembering that Dacian had done this sort of thing a thousand times before. Lustful dalliances were nothing new to him, only to her.
He frowned, examining her face. Then his head shot up, listening. After a moment, he launched into another ear-splitting snore. Judith bit her lip to hold back her amusement, and extricated herself from his arms. She didn’t trust herself within his embrace, and they could ill afford to drop their guard now. It seemed that Harriet was growing suspicious.
Dacian continued snoring for another few minutes, his expression pained. When he was sure that no one still lingered outside the door, he leaned across to nuzzle her neck.
“Scenes of love-making are futile in these circumstances,” he murmured, pulling her close again. “How am I to convince you of my passion?”
Her hand crept down his front, to grasp the long length that, despite everything, still strained against his breeches. It was, she felt, very hard, large, and incontrovertible. “I find that I am convinced, your grace.”
“Lady Avely!” His voice was mock outraged, and he moved her hand away to rest on his heart. “This is the organ you should seek to interrogate, my dear.”
She snatched her hand away, distracted by the sound of floorboards creaking outside. “Hush!”
He gave a wry grimace and folded his hands over his chest.
Judith was too busy listening to notice. When she was certain that no one lurked outside, she let out a sigh of relief. “Do not attempt to convince me of anything, I beg you,” she whispered. “We will become carried away.”
“God, Judith. I am already carried away. Let me be carried.”
“I thought you said that you learned restraint in Spain?”
“Mmrgh,” said Dacian, and sat up a little.
They spent the next few hours in a tense, listening silence, three feet away from each other on the bed. Twice, Dacian had to resume his room-shattering snoring, which Judith found to be a rather good antidote to lust.
Nonetheless, it was torture to be within reaching distance of him and yet be unable to crawl into his arms. She swallowed at the sight of his broad shoulders against the pillows, his black hair in disarray, his dark lashes against his cheek. For he had closed his eyes, and after a while, Judith did so too, simply out of a sense of self-preservation, while they listened for the sound of floorboards creaking in the corridor.
A brief distraction came after one of Dacian’s excessive snoring demonstrations, when Wooten popped his head out of the cupboard.
“What the devil is that noise?” he hissed. Then his eyes widened as they fell upon Judith. “Good God, what sort of waistcoat is that? You look like a rustic.”
“Watch it, Wooten,” snapped Dacian, lifting his head from the pillow. “A little respect, please.”
Judith ran a hand down the herringbone tweed in apology, swallowing a smile. “It’s the best we could do in the circumstances.”
“It’s tight in all the wrong places,” said Wooten, wincing. “Didn’t you say Kenneth was a man about town?”
“Well, only you would notice,” said Dacian. “I’ll have you know that we have managed to fool everyone, except that damn Miss Belfleur. The snoring is to keep up the ruse.”
“Yvette knows we are here?”
“She is on our side now,” explained Dacian reluctantly. “She locked Marigold in a clock.”
Wooten looked faintly impressed. “A female of taste and discernment, after all.” He looked round the master bedroom. “Well done, I suppose, on making it thus far. Keep the noise down, would you? I’m trying to sleep.” And he disappeared back into the cupboard to return to his slumbers.
At long last, dusk fell, darkening the window. Judith peeked through her lids and drew a relieved breath, pushing herself up from the bed.
“I must change,” she announced in a low voice. “I do not wish to face Lady Garvey in breeches and coat, especially if Wooten is so scathing about it.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood.
“I disagree,” said Dacian, running an appreciative eye down Judith’s lower half. “You look very fetching in those breeches.”
“I will feel more myself in a gown. And they are expecting me , after all.”
“Then I will help you dress.”
Judith eyed him skeptically. He held up his hands.
“I swear, I will be as if I were your lady’s maid,” he said. “Or your valet. Purely in the role of assistance, not a rake.”
She didn’t believe it for a moment. “I’d rather not risk it.”
He quirked his eyebrow and folded his arms, waiting.
Flustered, she realised she would have to undress before him, and that he was not going to be a gentleman and look away. Hastily, she turned her back on him and shed her coat, then undid her waistcoat and shirt.
In the mirror, she could see Dacian’s eyes darken. He held himself very still. Typical man, to have to keep such a tight rein on his lust. Rather enjoying herself now, Judith slipped her shirt off, then unwound her bindings so her breasts sprung free. She drew a long breath with the relief of it, and saw Dacian swallow hard, his arms tensing across his chest.
She smiled and undid her breeches. Stepping out of them, she said sweetly. “My gown, please.”
Dacian leapt forward to shake out her blue gown, and then hold it out for her, an appreciative gleam in his eyes. With dignity, she let him place it over her head, the silk sweeping over her skin. She waited as he did up the ties, biting her lips, clamping down on the desire that swirled through her. His fingers brushed her back, and caressed her neck.
It was only the thought that he might have to start snoring again that stopped her from pushing him onto the bed immediately.
The thought of Marigold also sobered her. Her little companion was still locked in the longcase clock, and they were relying on Yvette’s cunning to keep her undiscovered. Harriet might at this moment have realised she had lost her pawn, and be searching the house high and low for Marigold.
So Judith stayed rigidly still as Dacian did up the final buttons along her neck. He, intuiting her mood, also became serious, and did up the last bow at her waist with deft fingers.
She turned to see in the mirror that her cheeks were flushed, her pupils enlarged.
“There,” he said, with regret. “I hate to say it, Judith, but now all you need is a mobcap.”