The Handmaiden's Necklace (24 page)

“Not yet. First, I would help you undress.”

He watched in fascination as she knelt in front of him to remove each of his shoes and stockings, then began to unfasten the buttons at the front of his breeches. Each brush of her fingers fired an agony of awareness, a blood lust that urged him to lift her up and strip away her gown, to spread her long, shapely legs and bury himself inside her.

And yet he did none of those things. Instead, he let her lead the way, refusing to rush her, absorbing each touch as if his body were dying of thirst and she were the first drops of rain.

Even when she had stripped away his clothes, leaving him naked, he did not move, just stood there in front of her, soaking up her presence, one of his hands skimming over the silk of her hair.

“I’ve missed you,” he said softly, the admission torn from him against his will. She looked up at him and he told himself the glint in her eyes could not be tears.

She placed her mouth against his chest in the spot above his heart, then knelt once more in front of him. Reaching up, she captured his hardness, then took him into her mouth.

For an instant, Rafe stood frozen, certain he must be dreaming, yet praying he would not awaken as Danielle kissed and caressed him, used her lips and her tongue to give him the sort of pleasure a wife did not give to her husband.

But Danielle was no ordinary wife, and this he had known from the start. When he couldn’t bear the pleasure any longer, when the exquisite torture began to overwhelm him, he fisted a hand in her heavy red hair and drew her back to her feet.

He caught her chin between his fingers and lifted her mouth to his, tasting his essence, drawing her very breath into his lungs.

His eyes found hers as he lifted her into his arms and carried her over to his big four-poster bed, set her down atop the clean white sheets and drew the satin nightgown over her head, baring her to his hungry gaze. She waited for him to join her in the deep feather mattress, and he lay down at her side. Her eyes widened as he lifted her and set her astride him.

Her body was slender and supple. Her hair fanned out around her shoulders, brushed the tips of her breasts. When she leaned forward, the heavy mass slid like silk over his bare chest, moved like satin fire over his skin.

“So beautiful….” he said. “Not like any other woman.”

Her hand touched his cheek. Danielle leaned closer and
he took the soft swell of her breast into his mouth. He suckled her there while his hand found the place between her legs. She was wet and slick, ready for him, and he entered her slowly, filling the beautiful, slender body that fit him so perfectly.

He told himself it was only that he was a man and she a woman and he had been without a woman too long.

But he knew it was a lie, and as he brought her to fulfillment and spent himself inside her, his heart cried out at another, even more hurtful lie.

One that Danielle had told without saying a single word.

D
ani awakened in her husband’s big bed. She felt pleasantly battered and completely sated. Last night, they had made the most splendid love.

A dreamy smile blossomed on her face as she recalled the pleasure they had shared, the joining of their bodies, which had happened more than once. Then she glanced at the empty place in bed where Rafe’s hard-muscled frame should have lain and her smile slipped away.

He was gone as if he had never been there, as if they had never made love. Danielle slumped back against the feather pillow, suddenly tired again.

It was nearly an hour later that she dragged herself from beneath the covers and returned to her own suite of rooms. Walking over to the bell pull, she rang for a bath, hoping it would wash away her dismal mood. By the time she had finished, Caro had arrived to help her dress for the day, braid and pin up her hair.

For a while, she wandered the empty rooms of the house, wondering where her husband might have gone, yearning
to see him. As the morning waned, she and Caro walked the gravel paths of the winter garden, pretty, though stark, with its animal topiary and the first green shoots of the earliest spring bulbs pushing up through the soil.

By late afternoon, she began to worry. Was he angry at her brazen behavior last night? He had seemed so pleased at the time, but perhaps on reflection he had found her actions too forward. She hadn’t planned for their lovemaking to unfold as it had. But Rafe was just so incredibly handsome, so entirely male, and she had wanted him so badly. Now she worried that perhaps she had displeased him.

Dani sighed. It was difficult to know where one stood with a man like Rafe, who kept so much to himself.

She was thinking about him as she returned to the duchess’s suite, wondering if they would make love again tonight or if he would withdraw once more into his shell, when she received a note from him, requesting that she join him that evening for supper in the State Dining Room.

Dani’s hand shook as she refolded the message and set the piece of paper down on top of her dresser. The occasion seemed entirely too formal to be anything but bad news. She paced the bedchamber, waiting with trepidation for the hours to pass, then sitting in silence until Caro arrived to help her change and re-dress her hair.

“Well, we had better get started,” her friend said, taking charge of the situation, bustling about the room as she always did. “What would you like to wear? And don’t you dare say black, though I can tell by the way your shoulders are slumped that you are in a dismal humor.”

Dani felt the pull of a smile. “All right, no black.” She
sighed. She had shown Caro the note when it had first arrived. “I cannot imagine what he might want. He has been so odd of late. I am so worried.”

“Perhaps you are worrying for no good cause. Perhaps he has some good fortune he wishes to impart.”

Dani brightened. “Do you think so?”

“It is possible, is it not?”

“I suppose.” But he had left this morning without a word and been gone from the house all day. Clamping down on a fresh jolt of fear, she joined Caro in front of the ivory-and-gilt armoire and pulled open the door, turning her attention to the task at hand.

“It is a formal invitation, so let us choose something formal.” Rifling through several different garments, a burgundy silk, a dark green velvet, a gown of cream and lace, she settled on an elegant dress of heavy amethyst silk, its bodice of the same rich color shot with gold. “This should do well enough.”

“The gown is lovely. The duke won’t be able to keep his eyes off you.”

Caro spread the garment out on the bed and Dani sat down on the stool in front of the dresser. While Danielle fidgeted nervously, Caro went to work on her hair, brushing the heavy mass and pinning it up, then lacing gold ribbon into the upswept curls. When the task was complete, Dani slid her feet into soft gold slippers.

“Just this one last thing.” Caro walked over to the bureau and took the red satin pouch out of Dani’s ornately carved jewelry box. She returned and draped the Bride’s Necklace around her neck and fastened the clasp. “It looks beautiful,” Caro said. “Perfect with the gown.”

Dani reached up and touched the elegant strand of pearls, her fingers moving over the sparkling diamonds between each perfect pearl. “I don’t know why, but somehow wearing it always makes me feel better.”

Caro stepped back to survey her handiwork, tipping her head from side to side to study each angle. “Well, you look as if you are ready to face the dragon in his lair.”

Dani sighed as she rose from the stool. “I suppose I am.” But inside, she was shaking. It was clear Rafael had something of importance to say, and from the way he had been behaving, she didn’t think it was going to be good.

If only the day would come when there are no more secrets between us.
When she would be able to look at him without guilt, without any sort of fear.

It wouldn’t be this night, she was sure. “Wish me luck,” she said. Lifting the hem of her gown, she crossed the carpet for the door, unconsciously raising her chin as she stepped out into the hallway.

When she reached the top of the marble staircase, she paused to look below. In his navy-blue tailcoat and dark gray breeches, his white stock perfectly tied, Rafael looked so handsome her heart squeezed hard inside her.

Head held high, she descended the stairs one by one, feeling his gaze upon her every step of the way. His eyes seemed even bluer than they usually did, or perhaps it was merely his somber expression that made them appear that way.

Whatever the reason, she caught herself studying him from beneath her lashes as he led her into the State Dining Room and seated her next to him at the end of the table.

“I’ve asked Cook to prepare a special meal in honor of the occasion,” he said.

One of her eyebrows went up. “And what occasion might that be?”

“A thank-you for the pleasure you gave me last night.”

Dani flicked him a glance. She wasn’t sure she liked the idea of him paying her for making love to him, even in this small way. It made her feel a little like a scarlet woman.

Rafe, however, seemed unconcerned. Instead he conversed casually throughout the meal, his eyes drifting often to her breasts, displayed quite nicely in the amethyst gown, and she saw the heat there that had been missing for so long.

Perhaps last night hadn’t been a fool’s errand after all. Perhaps she had reached him in some way, as she had so desperately wanted to do.

The meal was served, half a dozen courses. Oysters in anchovy sauce, turtle soup, pickled salmon, roast suckling pig. Dani was so nervous she ate almost nothing and noticed Rafe ate less than usual, as well. When they had finished their dessert, a molded custard covered with slivered almonds, one of the footmen poured them a last glass of wine and Rafe dismissed the servants from the dining room.

The moment the door closed behind them, he lifted his crystal goblet in toast. “To the future,” he said, his eyes on her face.

“The future,” she echoed hollowly, a fresh shot of worry slipping through her.

Rafe took a drink of his wine and so did Dani, perhaps a bit more than she should have.

He set his glass back down on the table, his eyes so very intense and locked on her face, his long fingers encircling the stem of the glass as he swirled the ruby liquid in the cut-crystal bowl.

“Do you remember the promise you made to me not long ago?”

She swallowed. “The promise?”

“It was the night I asked you about the necklace, the night you confessed that you had given it to Robert McKay.”

She moistened her lips, which had suddenly gone bone dry. “I…I remember.”

“You promised me that night that you would never lie to me again.”

“Yes…”

“But you have lied, haven’t you, Dani?”

She trembled, wished she had drunk more wine. “What…what do you mean?”

“When did you plan to tell me you couldn’t have my child?”

Danielle’s heart simply stopped beating. It lay there in her chest, aching as if she were dying, as if no blood pumped through her veins.

“When, Danielle?”

She reached for her wineglass, but Rafe caught her hand.

“When were you going to tell me, Danielle!”

She looked up at him and tears filled her eyes. “Never…” she whispered, and then she started to weep.

Her chest constricted with the hot flood of her tears, not the soft weeping of a woman who had been caught in a falsehood, but the deep sobs of a barren woman who wept for the child she could never give the man she loved. She wept as if her heart were breaking, wept and wept and could not stop, and didn’t even notice when Rafe drew her up from her chair and eased her into his arms.

“It’s all right…. Everything is going to be all right.”

“It will never be all right,” she said, leaning into his embrace. “Not ever.” She cried against his shoulder, felt the brush of his lips against her hair.

“Easy.”

“I should…should have told you before we were wed. Dear God, I know I should have, but I…”

“You what…?” he asked gently.

She drew in a ragged breath. “In the beginning I wanted to punish you. You were forcing me to marry you. I thought you were getting what you deserved.”

“And later?”

“When we got…got back to London, your mother explained how urgent it was that you have an heir to carry on the Sheffield name. And then I met Arthur Bartholomew and saw how truly important it was.” She looked up at him, tears rolling down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Rafael. So unbearably sorry.” She started weeping again and Rafael tightened his hold.

“Don’t cry, love.”

But she couldn’t seem to stop. “How did you…how did you find out?”

“Neil McCauley told me. He said you were injured before. What happened to you?”

She dragged in a ragged breath, tried to swallow past the ache in her throat. “I was…riding at Wycombe Park. After you…ended our betrothal and I moved away from London, I took to riding quite often. It gave me a kind of ease I couldn’t seem to find anywhere else.”

“Go on.”

“It had rained the night before and the fields…the fields were wet and muddy. Aunt Flora tried to convince me not
to go. She thought it was too dangerous, but I…I wouldn’t listen. My horse—her name was Blossom—she slipped as we approached a stone hedge and I went off over her head. I must have landed on something when I fell, or…I don’t know, something just went wrong. When I didn’t come home and Blossom came limping back into the stable, Aunt Flora sent the grooms in search of me.”

She forced herself to look up at him. “It took a while, but eventually I recovered. Unfortunately, the doctor said I would never be able to have a child.”

Dani brushed away the tears on her cheeks. Her heart squeezed painfully. “If I had told you, you never would have married me. You could have wed a woman who could give you a son.”

Rafe gently caught her chin, forcing her to look him in the face. “Listen to me, Dani. I’ve had a great deal of time to think this through, and I’ve come to understand something. I came to realize it doesn’t matter. You’re my wife, as you should have been five years ago. In truth, if I had believed you then as I should have done, you would have been living with me instead of your aunt. You wouldn’t have been riding that day and you never would have been injured. In the end, the fault is mine and not yours.”

Dani gazed into his beloved face. It was hard to speak past the thick lump in her throat. “Rafael…”

Her mouth trembled under his as he bent his dark head and kissed her.
I love you,
she wanted to say.
I love you so very much.

But in the end she kept silent. She didn’t know the feelings he carried for her, still wasn’t certain of the future.

“Can you ever forgive me?” she asked.

“We shall have to forgive each other.” He brushed her mouth with his. “No more secrets,” he said.

“No. I swear it on my life.”

Rafael kissed her so tenderly she thought she might weep once more.

“There is one thing more.”

Worry slipped through her. “Yes?”

“From this night forward, you will be sleeping in my bed, not yours.”

Dani’s throat closed up. She managed a nod, but inside her chest, her heart sang.

Caro stood outside the door of the duke’s library-study. She had been passing by the open study door when she heard the sound of voices and caught a glimpse of the coachman, Michael Mullens, standing, hat in hand, in front of the duke’s big rosewood desk.

She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but then she realized that Mullens was talking about the carriage accident and he seemed abnormally upset.

“I tell ye, sir, it were no accident a’tall.”

Caro flattened herself against the wall outside the door and strained to hear what the coachman said.

“While I was workin’ on the axle, I happened ta notice the place where the wood broke apart had an odd look about it. I studied it closer and I seen it were sawed near in two.”

The duke came out of his chair. “What are you saying? Are you telling me someone meant for that carriage to turn over?”

“Worse than that, sir. They meant for it ta happen just where it did. While I was studying the pieces of the axle, I noticed something buried in the wood.”

Caro peered into the room long enough to see the coachman reach into the pocket of his coarse brown jacket, pull something out and hand it to the duke.

“Someone must have been waiting fer us that day at the bridge, sir. Right before the accident, I heard a noise that sounded like a gunshot, but I never figured, till I dug out that lead ball, that someone might have been shootin’ at us.”

Caro ignored a chill as the duke held the round circle of lead up to examine it. “They were shooting at the axle. All it took was a little more pressure in just the right spot to make it snap.”

“Yes, sir, that’s the way I see it.”

The duke’s hand closed around the piece of lead. “If you don’t mind, Mr. Mullens, I’ll hang on to this. And thank you for coming to me with this information.”

The coachman bowed and took his leave. Before he could reach the door, Caro lifted her skirt and dashed off down the hall. She had to find Danielle.