The Scandals Of An Innocent

leather, and Lydia shivered at the memory of his skin against hers.

“I like the danger,” Tom said, his words muffled against her lips. “I cannot help myself. It excites me.”

“Then it is a good job that I have more sense than you,” Lydia said, pushing him away, albeit reluctantly. “Now listen, Tom-” She paused, losing the thread of her thoughts as he started to nibble at the soft skin of her neck, using his teeth and lips and tongue to raise the goose bumps on her skin. “Stop!” she said. “I need to think and you are distracting me!”

“Good,” Tom said, pulling the ribbon that held her cloak in place and unraveling it slowly.

“Be serious,” Lydia said weakly. “Do you think that these murders or attempted murders are all the work of one man?”

“They must be,” Tom said, raising his head for a second. “I refuse to believe that there is more than one dangerous criminal on the loose in Fortune’s Folly.” He pushed her cloak aside and started to nuzzle at the neckline of her gown, his tongue dipping wickedly into the cleft between her breasts.

“Who,” Lydia said, determinedly ignoring him even as her heart pounded like a drum, “is the least likely person to be that criminal?”

“Hmm…my brother, Monty? Your parents?” Tom really did not sound as though he cared. He popped Lydia’s breast out of the rounded neckline of the gown with shocking suddenness and bent to suckle it.

“Tom!” Lydia remembered at the last moment that she was supposed to keep quiet, and her keening cry came out as a ragged whisper instead. His mouth at her breast evoked all the welter of emotion and need she had ever felt for him, dangerous feelings she had thought were buried forever.

“I am five months pregnant,” she protested, even as she arched to his touch.

Tom’s free hand curved over the swelling of her belly. “That just excites me the more,” he said.

“That cannot possibly be true,” Lydia said. She had hated the sight of her thickening body because it had seemed to mock her stupidity in giving herself to Tom in the first place.

“It is true.” Tom released her breast and kissed her with all the simmering passion she remembered. “It makes you very, very desirable, Lyddy.”

When they broke apart Lydia was breathing fast, and she felt as though her entire body was lit as bright as the candle flame. She looked at Tom and his eyes were dark with all the secrets and wickedness and excitement that she remembered.

“Could we…” she began hesitantly, and saw him smile.

“If you want to.”

“Oh, I do.” Suddenly she was feverish with need. “Only, it will not hurt the baby?”

“No,” Tom said. “We will be very gentle and very careful…”

“Oh, yes,” Lydia said, settling down into his arms with a sigh.

ALICE SAT IN FRONT of the mirror in her bedroom, brushing her hair very slowly. The fire was banked down in the grate ready for the night, and the candle stood on her nightstand ready to light her bedtime reading. The house was creaking and settling softly down to sleep.

Alice was thinking about Lydia. She had caught her friend creeping into the house very late, shaking the snow from her cloak and easing herself out of her sodden boots. Lydia had looked radiant, glowing and vibrant, as pretty as Alice had ever seen her. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks rosy. Alice had known at once that Lydia must have been with Tom Fortune.

Alice sighed now as she viewed her reflection in the glass. Lydia’s situation worried her very much indeed, for her friend had looked so happy and Alice simply could not bear to think that she might get hurt again. They had had no chance to speak, for Miles had come down the stairs just after Lydia had come in, and the smile had immediately drained from Lydia’s face leaving her looking pale and terrified. She had thrown Alice a pleading look, had muttered a good-night to Miles and had run away up to her room. Alice had picked up Lydia’s cloak and taken it off to the kitchens to dry out, and now she felt guilty and with her loyalties painfully torn.

The hand holding the brush stilled and came to rest on the dressing tabletop. Alice sat still. What was she to do? She cared deeply what happened to Lydia but she was so afraid that Tom would betray her friend yet again. And she wanted to confide in Miles-she wanted to trust him with a strength of feeling that surprised her-and yet, she could not do so if that would cause more misery and pain for Lydia.

She got to her feet. Laura Anstruther was coming to visit in the morning. She was Lydia’s cousin by marriage as well as Miles’s cousin. Perhaps she might be the very person to bridge the gap between them all and persuade Lydia to talk. And in the meantime, Alice thought, the best thing that she could do would be to get a good night’s sleep. Her injured arm still ached abominably and she felt tired to her bones. In the end she had given in to Miles’s demands that he be permitted to stay at Spring House. Her mother had wanted it and Alice had felt too tired to continue objecting. So now Miles was sharing her roof, occupying a room across the landing from her, and she felt oddly on edge at the thought even though the house was full of other people, as well.

Perhaps it had been Miles’s parting words to her in the parlor earlier that had been the problem. You know what happens when you deny yourself something that you want very badly…You just want it all the more…

She knew that he had been speaking for himself. Unfortunately his words applied to her, too. She did want him, too much to be comfortable in such proximity to him. But she could not surrender to him whilst he still refused her a free choice in her future. No matter how difficult the denial, she was determined not to give in.

There was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” Alice called, thinking that Marigold had come to bring her a cup of hot milk.

The door opened and Miles walked in. He stopped when he saw her and his gaze went from the corn-colored hair loose about her shoulders to her bare feet, where they peeped from beneath the hem of her nightgown. Alice was suddenly acutely aware that she was naked beneath her night rail and robe and that Miles was still fully dressed. For some reason it felt doubly disturbing that he had all his clothes on whilst she lacked most of hers.

She could feel the pink color stinging her face. Sometimes it was a terrible curse to be so fair and blush so easily. “Lord Vickery!” Her voice was not quite steady. “I thought you were my maid. What on earth are you doing here?”

Miles’s gaze came up to meet hers. “I have come to search your room and make sure that you are safe for the night,” he said.

“To search my room?” Alice felt appalled. “Surely you do not suspect anyone of breaking in and concealing themselves in here?”

“I don’t know until I check,” Miles said. He moved across to the window, looking behind the long curtains. His gaze seemed to rest on the bed for a long time, contemplating its rumpled sheets and invitingly tumbled pillows. Alice’s breath hitched as he looked back at her.

“A somewhat inflammatory choice of reading for bedtime, Miss Lister,” Miles said, gesturing to the copy of Tom Jones that was on the nightstand.

Alice raised her chin. “It is a classic novel,” she said.

“I do not dispute it,” Miles agreed, “but I suspect it will cause you a restless night.”

Alice doubted that a mere book could disturb her as much as Miles was doing now. He had moved across to the big rosewood wardrobe and opened the door. Alice’s breath caught again. She had not imagined that he would be searching through her clothes. This felt far too intimate, though why it should disquiet her she was not sure, since he had eased her out of that very underwear only a fortnight back, so there really was no cause for false modesty. His hands moved amongst the linen and lawn of her underclothes, tanned against the pristine whiteness. It made Alice shiver as though he was touching her skin.

“There, uh, there does not appear to be anyone in here,” Miles said. His tone was a little rough. His gaze, dark and intense, tangled with hers. He shut the wardrobe door carefully.

“Well, um, thank you,” Alice said, feeling absurdly self-conscious. She wondered a little despairingly whether Miles’s presence in the house would always make her this uncomfortable. She would have to hope that they would find the criminal soon or she might just combust.

Miles paused with his hand on the doorknob. “Do you think that Miss Cole was with Tom Fortune tonight?” he asked suddenly, over his shoulder.

Alice jumped, taken by surprise. She realized that he had sprung the question on her deliberately, knowing she