“It is quite exhilarating. And sparkly. Like champagne, although I admit I have not had an opportunity to drink a great deal of champagne. It’s quite expensive. Generally speaking, paid companions stick to sherry. Although I have met one or two who have gone on to gin. Most professional companions endure a great deal of boredom, you see.”
“But not you.”
“No, not me. I am rarely bored. I enjoy my work for the agency and when I am alone I have my writing. It is an endless source of fascination. But I will admit that there are times when I have felt very much alone.”
He was torn between frustration and amusement. “I think that at the moment you are feeling a little tipsy as well, are you not?”
She giggled. “Yes, as a matter of fact. But I assure you, my head is quite clear.”
“Is it?”
“Oh, yes, in fact I don’t believe that I have ever been able to perceive things so clearly in my life. I feel free, Lucas, and it is because of you.”
“I set you free?”
“You did, indeed.”
“How did I do that?”
She tipped her head to one side. “It’s complicated. I really do not want to go into it just now.”
“How long have you been dangling your feet in the waters of that pool?”
“I have no idea.” She kicked her feet again. “My turn to ask you a question. How many women have you brought here to this bathhouse, Mr. Sebastian?”
He smiled. She was flirting with him and he was enjoying it. A dangerous pastime, he thought. But what the hell, the die had been cast. Evangeline would soon be his. She knew that as surely as he did. That was why she was practicing her feminine wiles on him—why she said she felt free. The exhilarating aspect of the whole thing was that he, too, felt as if he had been released from his own self-imposed prison.
They were made for each other, he thought. Perhaps it was, indeed, fortune or fate or karma that had led them both to this moment. He did not believe in any of those supernatural forces, and what had transpired tonight out in the gardens was not the method he had intended to employ to win her. But what was done, was done. Their future was sealed by the events of the night.
“I have never invited any other lady into the Night Gardens, let alone this bathhouse,” he said. He hunkered down on his heels at the side of the pool. “I’ll tell you a secret.”
“Good.” She giggled. “I adore secrets.”
“The reason I never invited anyone to join me in this pool is because I have never encountered a woman I believed could enjoy the experience with me, a lady of talent.”
“What do you mean?”
“It is clear from the old records that the pool waters have the most pronounced effect upon people like us, Evangeline.”
“Those with paranormal abilities?”
“The stronger the talent, the more powerful the effect.”
“I suppose that makes sense.” She leaned over and trailed her fingers through the water. “If the properties of the spring are paranormal in nature, it stands to reason that those who possess strong psychical abilities will be more affected than those who do not simply because they will be able to sense the energy more acutely.”
He smiled, savoring the anticipation. “That was always my uncle’s theory.”
Evangeline gave him another tantalizing smile and looked at him from beneath her lashes. “If your uncle was correct, then a romantic liaison conducted in this chamber would most probably be experienced in a very intense manner by two people who possessed strong psychical abilities.”
This was, indeed, the best of all possible worlds, Lucas concluded. Then again, perhaps he had not recovered from the paranormal fever after all. Maybe he was hallucinating. Whatever the case, his future wife was attempting to seduce him. If this was a dream, he could only hope that he would never awaken.
“That would be the obvious assumption,” he said. “Shall I tell you another secret?”
“Yes, please.”
“My uncle tested that assumption with his housekeeper, Mrs. Buckley. You see, she had a measure of talent, too.”
“What?” Evangeline’s eyes widened. Then she gave a lilting laugh. “Never say that your uncle and Mrs. Buckley were lovers.”
“For years. It was, of course, a family secret. But I suspect they spent a number of nights in this place.”
“Well, well, well.” Evangeline leaned forward and swished her hand through the water again. “But what about you, sir? I cannot believe that you never found a lady you wanted to bring to this place.”
He reached out and brushed a wave of silken hair off her shoulder. “You are the first.”
“Excellent.” Evangeline smiled somewhat smugly and winked. “I am delighted to hear that.”
She splashed some water onto the side of the pool. The droplets sparkled like liquid diamonds. They dampened his boots and the cuffs of his trousers.
“You are bathing in dangerous waters, Miss Ames,” he warned softly. “Quite literally.”
“I thought that we were on a first-name basis, Lucas.”
He smiled. “Thank you for reminding me, Evangeline.”
“I believe that life was meant to be experienced with all the senses.”
“Do you?”
“Most definitely.”
She hoisted the skirts of the wrapper and nightgown and stood up on one of the submerged benches. The water came midway up to her elegantly curved calves. She put out a hand and regarded him with an expectant air.
He straightened slowly and took her hand. The instant her fingers touched his a euphoric flash of knowing swept through him. It was, he decided, as if all the forces of the universe had conspired to make this night, this moment, happen.
Evangeline stepped daintily out of the pool, released his hand and shook out her clothing. The folds of her nightclothes fell about her wet ankles. He wondered if she realized that the sash of her wrapper had come undone.
“I think I know the real reason why you have never brought a lover with you to this place,” she said.
“Is that so?” He traced the curve of her jaw with one finger. “What is the real reason?”
“In a word, control.” Smiling, she stepped away from him and pirouetted in a small circle. She stopped and faced him once more. “You do not like the notion of losing your own self-control, and you are far too noble to take advantage of a lady who might be made somewhat inebriated from the atmosphere of this place.”
He moved closer until the bottom of her damp wrapper and gown brushed the tops of his boots. He caught her chin on the edge of his hand.
“You are right in part,” he said. “Self-control is important to me because my ability to control and focus my talent depends on it. But you give me far too much credit when it comes to my chivalrous nature.”
“Ha. I stand by my verdict, sir. You would never take advantage of a lady.”
He smiled slowly. “Watch me.”
He took her mouth in a slow, deliberately provocative manner. He told himself that he intended to teach her a small lesson, one she would remember in the morning when the effects of the pool had worn off. He was in control, he thought. He could keep matters in hand.
But he had not made allowances for the electrifying effects her response might have on him.
“Lucas,” she whispered against his mouth. “Dear heaven, Lucas.”
She wound her arms tightly around his neck and leaned into him, kissing him back with a feminine passion and energy that set fire to his senses. He had been partially aroused ever since this reckless scene had begun, but he had been fully in command of himself. It was clear now that he had miscalculated badly. He was straining against his trousers and starting to sweat again. But this fever was of an altogether different kind, he thought.
He crushed her close, deepening the kiss. Evangeline’s fingers moved up through his hair. A euphoric energy swept through him. He was not just more physically aroused than he had ever been, he felt stro
nger, more powerful, more aware on every level. It was as if Evangeline’s feminine fire were somehow resonating with the currents of his own life force, enhancing his senses.
She shivered in his arms and tightened her hold on him. Her mouth opened beneath his and for the first time in his life, he comprehended the astonishing metaphysical power of passion. Until he had met Evangeline he had been convinced that he knew all there was to know of desire. He controlled his lusts, they did not control him.
But Evangeline changed everything. With her he could be free.
He raised his head, opened his eyes and saw that hers were closed. Her head was tipped back, exposing the curve of her throat. He abandoned the seductive nectar that he had been drinking from her lips, wrapped his hands around the nape of her neck and kissed the delicate spot just behind one ear. Her nails dug into his shoulders. She made a soft, hungry little sound.
“I would walk through any circle of hell to have you tonight,” he said against her throat.
“Yes, I know, but there is no need.” She opened her eyes. “I am here and this is not hell. It is heaven. I vow, I cannot think about anything else except this sensation. It is so thrilling. I have always wondered how one could lose oneself utterly to passion. Now I know.”
The provocative challenge in her eyes made his blood sing. He laughed. The sound was hoarse and husky, more an aching groan of need.
“As it happens, I have just had a similar revelation,” he said.
Her scent was intoxicating, exhilarating, compelling. He moved his palms slowly downward until the soft weight of her breasts rested on the edge of his hands. He used the pads of his thumbs to stroke her tight little nipples through the thin fabric of the wrapper and nightgown.
Evangeline flattened her palms against his chest and kissed his shoulder. He lowered his hands to her waist and slid them beneath the edges of the chintz wrapper. With a tiny sigh, she tangled her fingers in the curling hair that covered his chest.
It was too much. He could bear no more of the sweet torment.
He scooped her up in his arms, moved to the nearest stone bench and sat down with her draped across his thighs. Her wrapper fell away. He bent his head to kiss her and moved one hand beneath the hem of the nightgown. He slid his palm up the inside of her leg, pausing to savor the incredible softness of her skin.
Evangeline clung to his mouth for a moment and then, with a tiny, breathless moan, she tore free and buried her face against his shoulder. He could feel the sensual tension, both physical and metaphysical, that held her in thrall. His senses were ablaze with the need to give her pleasure. He wanted to watch her face when she found her release.
He moved his hand higher. When he reached the secret little hot spring at the juncture of her thighs he found her wet and ready. The exotic perfume of her aroused body alone was enough to make him climax. It was all he could do to maintain the last vestige of his control.
He stroked the small bud at the top of her sex. Evangeline closed her eyes very tightly. Her fingers crushed the fabric of his shirt.
“Lucas,” she gasped. “I can’t stand it anymore. Something is happening to me.”
“Let it happen, my sweet. Let go. Fly for me.”
He eased a finger into her passage. She was tight and slick. He could feel the small muscles at the entrance, gripping him snugly even as they resisted the intrusion. He hooked his finger gently upward on the inside of her channel and at the same time continued to excite her delicate clitoris.
He knew when her climax was upon her even before she did. One moment she was tight and rigid, clenching again and again around his finger, and in the next her release shivered through her in small, convulsive waves.
Her muffled cry, laced with shock, astonishment and wonder, echoed in the stone chamber.
“Lucas.”
The knowledge that it was his name on her lips when she came was almost as satisfying as taking her completely. Almost.
He opened the front of his trousers.
She was just starting to relax into the aftermath of her climax when he eased himself cautiously into her tight core. She gasped and stiffened in surprise.
“Lucas.” She blinked a few times, confused and alarmed. “Something is wrong.”
“Do you still want me, love?”
“Yes, certainly, but I’m not sure—”
“Raise your senses again,” he instructed.
Energy flared in the atmosphere. Her eyes heated once more. His own aura flashed higher in response.
He wrapped one hand around the back of her head, brought her mouth down to his and thrust quickly past the delicate barrier.
She wrenched free of the kiss and uttered a small shriek. Her fingers raked his shoulders. He knew there would be marks come dawn. The knowledge thrilled him. But there was suddenly a lot more crashing energy in the chamber and it was coming from Evangeline. Her eyes were no longer glowing gently with feminine desire. They burned.
He sensed that the currents of their auras were suddenly on fire and resonating together. The exquisite, almost unbearably intimate sensation took his breath away.
He forced himself to hold off a moment longer, intensely aware of Evangeline’s rapid breathing and the quick, excited beat of her pulse. He kissed her jaw, her cheek, her mouth.
When she had adjusted to the sensation of him buried so deep inside her, he began to move. He had intended to thrust slowly and carefully but the snug, wet, hot feel of her was too much. The last thread of his control snapped. He sank himself to the hilt, his climax crashing through him.
He was lost in the storm but it did not matter. Evangeline was here with him.
Eighteen
Sharpy Hobson had failed. That much was now maddeningly evident.
Two days had passed since the blade man had taken the train to Little Dixby. Hobson had not come around for the remaining portion of his money and there had been no reports in the press of violent murder done in the countryside. Nor was there any news of a London criminal having been arrested in a small town.
There was only one explanation. Hobson had not been able to carry out the contract. He had likely returned to London and was even now swilling gin in his favorite tavern, reluctant to face his old partner with the bad news.
Garrett Willoughby paced the small dressing room. He was still wearing his stage makeup and costume. The house had been less than half full tonight. Hardly surprising, Garrett thought. The ridiculous melodrama with its cheaply staged excitements—the fake fire and the train wreck—had run its course after less than a month. The theater manager would soon be closing down the play.
Garrett came to a halt in front of the mirror and contemplated his reflection. He had been an actor long enough to know when it was time to seek another role. But it was not supposed to have come to this. The scheme had been damn near perfect. If it had been carried out the way they had planned it, Douglas would have been engaged to the Rutherford heiress by now. In a few months he would have married the young lady.
The heiress had been fated to die in a tragic accident soon after her wedding day, leaving her grieving husband a wealthy man. Garrett and Douglas had shared everything all their lives. They had intended to split the girl’s money as well. It had all seemed so simple and straightforward. But the plan had gone wrong. It was Douglas who was dead and Evangeline Ames was to blame. Garrett did not know how a mere woman had overcome his street-hardened brother, but somehow she had done so. Perhaps she had managed to trip Douglas at the top of the stairs. Whatever the case, it was her fault that Douglas had been exposed, her fault he was dead, her fault the scheme had come to naught.
Her fault, Garrett thought, that he would soon be forced to find another ill-paying role in another cheap melodrama instead of living the life of a gentleman.
The rage churned inside him like a terrible poison. The only cure was vengeance.
He had hired Hobson because the three of them, Douglas, Sharpy and himself, had known one another most o
f their lives. They had grown up on the streets together. But while he and Douglas had been able to take advantage of their looks and brains to climb out of the criminal underworld, Sharpy had been too slow-witted to follow them. Not that Sharpy had cared. He had been content to rule his own little corner of hell, taking satisfaction in his reputation as a throat-slitter for hire. He never failed.
How had Ames survived? Garrett wondered. True, Sharpy was not the smartest criminal in London, but he was skilled at what he did and he was ruthless. He savored the work, especially when the victim was a woman. It was hard to believe that he had been unable to deal with Evangeline Ames.
But this was the same bitch who had somehow managed to send Douglas hurtling down a flight of stairs to his death, Garrett reminded himself. The wave of fury rolled through him.
He seized the small pot of stage makeup and hurled it into the mirror. The glass cracked, shattered and rained shards on the dressing table.
When he could breathe again, he opened the small drawer in the dressing table and took out the pistol.
Nineteen
It took her a few minutes to catch her breath and collect herself. When Evangeline opened her eyes she saw that Lucas was watching her with an unsettling expression. It was shatteringly intimate and tender but there was masculine possessiveness in the look, as well. It was as if he had learned her deepest, most closely held secret and that he wanted her to know that he knew it.
She raised her head from his shoulder, still slightly dazed. What on earth did a woman say at a time like this?
“Lucas,” she whispered. She traced the strong angle of his jaw with her fingertips, lost in the wonder of what had just happened.
He caught her fingers in one hand and kissed them. His eyes met hers. “Are you all right?”
She smiled. “I think so. That was … extraordinary.”
“Yes,” Lucas said. “It was extraordinary.” He smiled. “But you are an extraordinary woman, Evangeline Ames.”
She realized with a start that she was still draped across his thighs in the most wanton manner imaginable. The wrapper had fallen open and the hem of her nightgown was crumpled above her thighs.