With heavy-lidded eyes, she stretched cat-like, loving the feel of him already hardening in her. “Better make it six observationsto be sure.”
* * *
She was like warm pliant clay, her body damp with perspiration, her arms limp on the pillow. Anthony rolled and cradled her in his arms. Rachel smoothed a finger over Anthony’s chest. “I can delay no longer. I need to go and dress before someone comes looking for us.”
Casey barked. The dog ran back and forth to the cot.
“What is wrong with the dog?”
Anthony nuzzled her. “Probably can’t get to my favorite flask.”
She pushed at his chest. “The ruff is up on her collar. What if it is a servant who has come to remind us to get ready for the evening’s event?”
Anthony cursed and heaved himself from the bed, jerked on his pants and shirt, pattered out into the laboratory. “No one is here.”
Rachel breathed a sigh of relief, dressed, then presented her back to Anthony, allowing him to fasten her buttons.
“I rather like this domestic responsibility.” He placed her coat about her shoulders, and then kissed her long and lingeringly. “You go on ahead and get ready for the evening’s event. I’ll clean up the lab.”
Chapter Seventeen
Anthony sprinted to the house. How much more entranced could he be? He had begun to imagine the magic that he could feel, and if he feared of anything, it was that he might never come to a place in his life again when he could know such sweet and soaring pleasure. Night cloaked the firmament and an amethyst strip lay across the sky, studded with stars. Despite her ridiculous protestations, Rachel would be his wife, sleeping next to him, and they would watch the sun come up over the horizon and spread across the estate. As duke, he could marry anyone he desired. To hell with tradition.
She was his, destined from the beginning of time, and there lay a certain male pride in that fact. He couldn’t wait for the vows, but deep down, she was already his in every word and deed. All their barriers had faded away, and for the first time in his life, he was filled with a tenderness so deep he ached inside.
He could love.
That Rachel could teach him to love was without a doubt the enchantment she spun and he was caught forever in her web. He even looked forward to the ball this evening, hosted by the Duke of Banfield. No doubt Rachel was ready and waiting for him. He ducked his head in the library. Not there. Caught Sebastian in the hall. “Is Rachel ready?”
“I did not see her come back from the laboratory.”
Perfect reasoning suggested she was dressing. Anthony sprinted up the stairs, cornered Mrs. Noot carrying mending from Rachel’s room. “Have you see Miss Thorne?
Mrs. Noot shrugged. “I haven’t seen her since morn. I’ve been waiting for her.”
The hackles raised on his neck. He raced down the stairs. Broke into a run. His father shouted. Outside, his foot slipped on an iced flagstone, and righted himself. The pause allowed him to hear a whimper in the rear of the bushes. Two guards lay bound. A lump the size of a hen’s egg bulged on the side of one of the guard’s head. An envelope was pinned to his coat.
“Where is she?”
“Got hit from behind.”
His heart dropped to the pit of his stomach. The great danger Rachel found herself in was a result of his negligence. No chance the scoundrel was still around. He would have left as soon as he had her. Was she still alive? Of course. His unseen enemy wanted the Rutland heir. Hands shaking, Anthony tore open the envelope. A muscle jumped in his jaw.
He tore inside the house. His father stepped from the bottom of the stairs. Ten staff members assembled. Sebastian raised a brow. More guards came in from behind him. Anthony waved the letter. “I must trade myself for Rachel.”
* * *
Anthony’s stallion whickered in the woods where he tied him several yards back from Captain Elijah Johnson’s house. Nose down, the dog prowled beside him, growling. Right place. Casey smelled Rachel. “Stay.” The dog froze on the spot, whining. Not at all happy of being left behind.
“I’ll get her back.”
Anthony had told his father and the guards to come ten minutes later. To hold back, so he could arbitrate and get Rachel out alive.
He pressed an ear to the crack of the door to the old sea captain’s house. No sound. Not good. They were waiting for him. How many? He eased open the door and slipped inside, moving across planked floors that moaned with age. A half-moon cast long eerie shadows across water stained walls, illuminating the interior as bright as day. Clutter and debris stacked everywhere, the peculiar trait of a hoarder. An ongoing battle between rat feces and mold rioted the air. Broken furniture had been used for firewood. Rinds of smoky bacon greased the floor. He nudged the ashes in the fireplace with the toe of his boot, the embers still warm…someone lived here of late.
He heard the click of a flint-lock pistol before a massive blow slammed against the side of his skull, making him see stars.
* * *
