“How long will you be gone?”
Rafael answered Elaine easily, “I believe we’ll travel there in slow stages. After all, I haven’t seen Cornwall in quite a while. We’ll spend tomorrow night in Truro, spend the following night in St. Agnes, then return the next evening. That should be a sufficient amount of time.”
Victoria looked at him, wondering why he didn’t wish to spend more time there. It certainly didn’t seem all that sufficient to her. After all, his entire purpose for bringing her back here to Drago Hall was ostensibly to use it as a base. Now it seemed that he couldn’t bear to be gone for any length of time from Drago Hall. But then, it really didn’t seem all that odd to her. He was here to ferret out this Hellfire Club business, she was certain of it. She felt a frisson of alarm, and clamped her mouth tightly closed.
“I’m glad you’re returning in good time,” said Elaine, looking at Victoria. “Your ball will require a great deal of work.”
“We’ll be your slaves.” Rafael turned to his brother. “Is Gwithian Inn still doing business in Truro?”
“Indeed it is. Old man Fooge still serves the finest smuggled French brandy and his wife still makes the most delicious stargazy pie.” Damien grinned maliciously. “Ah, I forget, you detest stargazy pie.”
“So do I,” said Victoria with great conviction. “All those poor pilchards with their heads sticking up.”
Rafael said to his wife, “Actually, my dislike comes from a specific incident in my misspent youth. When I was ten or so, my dear twin offered to share some of his pie with me. Unfortunately, just as I speared a bite, the pilchard wiggled off my fork. I tried to murder Damien, was foiled by our tutor, Mr. MacPherson, and never looked another stargazy pie in the pilchard’s eye again.”
There was general laughter, then Damien asked, “This property you speak of—are there tin mines?”
“Yes, all could be in excellent working order. Money will have to be spent to bring the equipment back up to par. The water pumps for the most part need to be replaced, and as for the engine houses, many of them are falling apart. I understand the miners are in a bad way. They don’t wish to continue mining when the shafts could flood at any time.”
It would cost quite a bit of money, Victoria thought, if the situation were as grim as Rafael had painted it. A lot of her money. But he sounded genuinely interested in the tin mines. Perhaps he would be content on land and not want to return to his ship and the sea.
Later that evening, in the Pewter Room, Victoria asked Rafael once again to tell her the truth, but he merely smiled at her and shook his head. “I’ve said too much already.” Then he began undressing, remaining infuriatingly obtuse, and silent as a clam. “You know,” he said thoughtfully as she was frowning at him in impotent silence, “if you weren’t being so damned womanly at the moment, I could have stopped this argument before it progressed to the first raised-voice octave.”
“I simply want to know the extent of your involvement,” she repeated.
“No danger. Come and let me unfasten that gown.” She turned her back to him, and in a moment felt his lips lightly caress the nape of her neck. She bowed her head, wanting him to continue.
She felt his hands come around her waist and pull her back against him. “Much too long a time for us,” he said, his breath warm on her neck. “Of course, the truth be told, a day is too long. Don’t you agree?”
She would have agreed with just about anything at that moment. His hands had roved upward and were cupping her breasts. He was filling his open palms with her, squeezing, caressing. She arched her back, leaning her head against his shoulder. She made a small mewling sound and Rafael closed his eyes with the pleasure of it.
“Would you like me to give you release, Victoria?” Even as he spoke those beguiling words, she felt his hand glide down her belly, lower, until he was gently pressing and probing against her. He could feel the heat of her through her layers of underthings and her gown. And, unbeknownst to her, she was pressing her hips forward, against his fingers. He was delighted.
She felt immense desire mixed with embarrassment. To stand here against him while his fingers . . . She simply couldn’t allow that.
It hurt, truly, but she slowly pulled away from him. “No,” she said, her voice just above a croak.
“Why not? You want me to.”
“No. I can’t.”
She didn’t see his grin, merely felt his arms come around her very gently. “Give me but another month as your husband, and you will forget all your foolish precepts of what a lady should or shouldn’t want or like or allow. And then, Victoria, I’ll give you pleasure whenever and wherever the spirit moves either of us. All right?”
“I don’t know. It’s embarrassing.”
“It’s the truth, that’s all. Now, sweetheart, let’s climb into our nest, ring down the curtains, and enjoy our frustrated dreams.”
Amid the cluster of grapes exquisitely carved in the upper-right-hand corner of the fireplace frieze, a very small wooden panel slipped back into place noiselessly and smoothly. To see her naked and writhing in Rafael’s arms, that was what he wanted to see, but this brief prologue had been exciting, immensely exciting. He could still picture her arched back against Rafael, while h
is hand was stroking her. He sucked in his breath, feeling the swelled flesh between his thighs. He was painfully aroused. He eased back along the narrow, cobwebbed passage, finally pressed a button, and slipped into the small estate room at the back of Drago Hall. He stood silently for a moment, shivering just a bit, for the passage was damp and clammy. Soon, he thought.
“Oh. The Almighty save me. My lord. I didn’t know anyone was in here.”
Damien looked up at Ligger, seeing that his butler’s face was utterly without color, one hand over his chest. He could well imagine the old man’s shock.
“I am ready to seek out my bed now, Ligger. Go to bed yourself. I will ensure that all the lights are doused downstairs and the doors bolted.”
“Yes, my lord. Thank you, my lord,” said Ligger, who tottered out of the room he would have sworn was empty but five minutes before.