AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘Very well. If you are still awake at two, then get dressed and we will search.’ Once upon a time, before he met his cousin Elinor, he had thought himself in control of his life. At least if she was with him he would know what she was up to. ‘We will start in Leon’s study.’
‘I agree,’ she said, nodding approval of the plan as though they were equal partners in this. ‘The old count may have left some clue to its traditional hiding place. Until two, then.’
She went out as quietly as she had come in. Theo listened, but the board did not creak, which meant that she had deliberately avoided it. No fool, his cousin. No fool, but one hell of a complication.
Elinor sat down at the table in her room and stared unseeing at the plan. She had got her own way, she should be happy, not feeling hurt and confused and thoroughly hot and bothered.
It was not until she was inside Theo’s bedchamber that it had occurred to her there might be any awkwardness in marching into a man’s room two minutes after his mistress had left it. He could have been unclothed. He would certainly not be in any mood for a chat about hidden treasure.
But it did not seem as though Ana was his mistress any more—unless lovemaking was a much faster, tidier and less strenuous activity than she had been led to believe.
But it was different, being alone, both of them in their nightclothes, in a darkened bedchamber late at night. Different from that sunlit quarry where he had kissed her, different from his room at St Père where she had dressed his injuries and held him out of sheer thankfulness he was still alive. The shadows had hidden his face from her, veiling both the bruises and the familiar features.
Without his face to focus on, she had been burningly aware of his body under that exotic robe, of his hands, of his bare feet. And she had wanted to touch him. Was this desire? It seemed that being a confirmed spinster did not protect you from such feelings, nor could the application of common sense and intelligence stop you fantasising about a man. A man who might be quite willing to kiss her—men appeared to be thoroughly undiscriminating in that respect—but who certainly would not see her as a lover. Or anything other than a friend.
And then he had snapped at her, warned her quite clearly that he did not want to be found in a compromising situation with her. It hurt and she could not work out why. He was perfectly correct, it would be terrible to have to marry someone because you had compromised them. It was certainly no basis for a marriage. And she knew she was never going to marry, knew that those kisses had been all she was ever going to experience. She was a rational, educated, intelligent female—so why did Theo’s words wound her so much?
You should be glad he is not a silver-tongued hypocrite, the voice of common sense chided. And you should be very glad indeed he has no idea that you are lusting after him. Because that was what she was doing, there was no hiding it from herself.
Elinor looked at the clock. Half past midnight. An hour and a half. Time to search this room thoroughly. The count was hardly likely to hide his indecent treasure in a guest room, but she might as well be thorough. Elinor removed her remaining old gown from the press and got dressed again. It was a deep bottle green, ideal for skulking about in the shadows, and was not such a bad fit as the others, so she might escape a lecture from Theo on how dreadful it was.
Theo’s scratch on the door panels was so faint she would not have heard it if she had not been listening for him. He stepped back abruptly, straight on to one of the creaking floorboards, when she opened the door, knife in hand.
‘Shh!’
‘What are you doing?’ he hissed.
‘Searching my room. My painting knife is excellent for getting between floorboards, but none of them are loose.’
It was hard to see in the dim light of the dark lantern he carried, but she thought he cast up his eyes. ‘Come on.’
The chateau was an eerie place at night. Sections of it were decorated and furnished to match their period, so one moment there was the comforting bulk of long-case clocks and armoires with vases on top, the next a suit of armour would loom out of the shadows or the mounted head of a wild boar would appear silhouetted against a window. Elinor resisted the urge to clutch Theo’s coattails and padded along behind him in her light slippers, the knife still in her hand.
He found his way easily through the passageways to the study door. Elinor had thought she had committed the plan to memory, but she had become lost after the first staircase. He crouched down, removed something metallic from his pocket and began to pick the lock. It was a skill that Elinor did not think the average antiquities dealer would have. Could she persuade him to teach her?
They were inside faster than she would have believed possible. ‘Check the curtains,’ Theo whispered, unshuttering the dark lantern only when he was happy no chink of light would show.
They worked their way systematically around the room, testing panels and searching cupboards, Theo opening locked drawers and relocking them. ‘How big is it?’ Elinor asked, sitting back on her heels and pushing her hair off her face.
‘This big, top to bottom.’ Theo held his hands about eighteen inches apart. ‘It is heavy too.’
‘That just leaves the floor.?
?? Elinor began to wriggle her knife blade between boards, but nothing shifted. It took twenty minutes to work across it, prizing at each long board with no result. ‘Ouch!’
‘Splinters?’
‘In the heel of my hand.’ She flapped it back and forth, muttering.
‘Let me see. Theo opened the dark lantern and took her hand. ‘One nasty big one. If I can just get it—hold on—there. Better suck it in case there are any little ones left.’ He lifted her hand to his mouth and sucked on the swelling at the base of her thumb.
His mouth was hot and wet and the suction was strong and should have hurt—only instead it seemed to go straight to the pit of her belly, straight down to where that hot disturbing ache had started when he had kissed her. She looked at his bent head in the yellow light and felt a wave of fierce tenderness wash through her, so intense that she trembled.
Elinor was not aware of placing her other hand on his cheek, of cupping it gently against her palm, only of seeing it there and of Theo turning his head into the caress. Did she kiss him or did he kiss her? How did they get here, on the wide dark boards, limbs tangled, mouths hungrily together?
This time she knew the taste of him on her tongue, his scent familiar and arousing in her nostrils and she was aware for the first time of his body against hers, of the size and solidity against her softness, of the hard thrust against her belly that should have terrified her, but only added to the ache and the needing.
They rolled, bumping into furniture, too intent on each other, on exploring, to care. Her breast fitted into the palm of his hand as though it had been made for it and his mouth left hers to nuzzle down over the shrouding cloth. Her nipples were hard against the friction of her chemise and she wriggled, frustrated, wanting her flesh against his, needing his mouth where his fingers were rubbing in maddeningly slow circles until she thought she would scream.
