The Black Diamond

  Aurora was more than happy to delay her explorations indefinitely.

  Kicking off her slippers, she crawled onto the bed, eagerly awaiting their next foray into the exhilarating world of passion. As if on cue, her body registered a protest, the discomfort between her legs intensifying, the muscles in her limbs throbbing a dissent. Hell and damnation, she admonished herself, watching Julian cross over to the fireplace, stoke the flames a bit higher. A long, enticing night awaited—a night she refused to forego because of her own understandable but intolerable physical limitations.

  Julian turned, his gaze sweeping over her, probing, astute. "Rest for a minute," he commanded gently. "I'll be right back."

  Relieved for this opportunity to recoup her strength, Aurora complied, curling onto her side and wriggling about until she found a comfortable position.

  She half-dozed. From a distance, she heard sounds, but their meaning didn't register until she felt Julian undress her, swing her into his arms. Then she blinked, glancing about, and realized with surprise that while she'd rested, he'd produced a large copper tub and filled it with pots of steaming water.

  "In you go," Julian murmured, lowering her into the bath.

  Aurora sighed with pleasure as the hot water washed over her, relaxing her cramped muscles and magically easing the soreness between her thighs.

  "Better?" he asked.

  "Heaven. How did you know?"

  One dark brow rose. "How did I know? I'm the cause of those aches, remember? The man who just spent long hours ravaging his virgin bride in a cramped carriage."

  A smug smile curved her lips. "I remember. I also remember doing my share of the ravaging."

  "So you did." With a wicked grin, Julian began stripping off his clothes. "Nonetheless, the time has come to restore your poor battered body." So saying, he seized a bar of soap and stepped into the tub. "Of course you'll require a lady's maid to help you wash."

  A giggle escaped Aurora's lips. "You're a very formidable lady's maid."

  "Ah, but a very good one," he attested. "I'll make certain you're well scrubbed and thoroughly relaxed."

  "Well scrubbed, perhaps. But thoroughly relaxed? That I doubt."

  "Such a skeptic." Julian eased behind his wife, settling her between his legs, his back against the side of the tub, hers resting against his chest. "How's that?"

  She sank against him. "Perfect. I apologize for doubting your abilities to soothe."

  "Apology accepted. Now lie still." He massaged her shoulders, kneading the tension away in blissful, gradual increments.

  Aurora made a soft appreciative sound, her eyes sliding shut as Julian worked his magic. Her body felt light, buoyant, all the stiffness and discomfort dwindling slowly away.

  Long, languorous minutes passed, interrupted only by the sounds of rippling water.

  Gradually Julian altered his approach, addressing the duties he'd vowed to perform. He lathered his hands, smoothing them up and down Aurora's arms. "Time to act the part of lady's maid. I'll begin with your arms."

  A frisson of pleasure accompanied his every caress. "Mmm," Aurora murmured.

  "I agree. Your skin is flawless." Julian's fingers interlaced with hers, his palms warm and soapy, unbearably erotic as they rubbed lazy circles against hers. "Tell me, where shall I wash next?"

  That incredibly seductive voice made her heart pound, caused her slumberous state to lift like the morning fog.

  Abruptly she was wide awake.

  "Where would you like to wash next?" she inquired, her loins dissolving with that now familiar yearning.

  Julian sensed her reaction instantly. She could tell from the way his fingers tightened over hers—ever so slightly—the way his lips nudged aside her heavy mane of hair, kissed the back of her neck. "Don't ask that question unless you're prepared for the answer. And let me warn you: I respond in actions, not words."

  "Another warning, Your Grace?" Aurora could scarcely speak past the drumming of her heart. "Didn't you realize from our earlier encounter how undaunted I am by your warnings?"

  "Ah. I'd forgotten." His hands freed themselves, only to slide under her legs, lifting them as he eased them apart. "Very well then. I'll rely upon my instincts to select the proper areas to wash." So saying, he draped each of her thighs over the powerful columns of his.

  Aurora moaned as warm water cascaded between her legs, swirled about her tender flesh, no longer soothing but arousing. Behind her, the hard ridge of Julian's shaft pulsed to life, throbbing against her back. "Julian…"

  "Yes, soleil." Keeping his own desire carefully leashed, Julian ran his soapy fingers up her calves, her knees, the trembling muscles of her inner thighs—washing her limbs and easing closer and closer to her aching core. "I'll continue with your legs. After all, they've been cramped for hours. Surely they require some tender ministrations." Shifting higher, he massaged her soft skin, his thumbs circling just shy of where she wanted them.

  "Julian…" She half-sobbed the protest, struggling to shove her body downward, to seek out his touch.

  "Is that not to your liking? Is this then?" One hand left her thigh and swept over the smooth skin of her abdomen, coasting upward until it brushed the underside of her breasts.

  Her nipples hardened painfully, her breasts swelling in urgent arousal. "I can't bear it."

  "You needn't bear it, soleil," he murmured, burning a trail of hot kisses from her shoulder to her neck. "Just tell me what you want and it's yours."

  "Touch me," Aurora managed. "Please, touch me."

  Swiftly one palm covered her breast and grazed her nipple, while the other palm completed its journey, cupping her intimately. Before she could catch her breath, Julian's fingers slid inside her, glided into her hot slippery passage.

  "Julian!" She arched, sensation slamming through her with renewed fervor. Blindly she groped behind her, determined not to touch heaven alone. She found and grasped her husband's engorged manhood, stroking him from base to tip and back again.

  Julian reacted like a wild man. Growling deep in his chest, he abandoned his caresses, gripping Aurora's waist and whipping her about to face him. Wedging her thighs apart, he brought her down to straddle him, not stopping until his straining flesh found its goal, pressed into the wet velvety folds. "Can you take me again?" he rasped, the question moot, given that he was already pushing deeper, groaning as she melted around him.

  Aurora answered it anyway. "Yes—oh, yes." She pressed downward, the pleasure far too acute to allow pain to intrude. "Tell me what to do."

  "Move. Like this." He cupped her hips, raising and lowering her until Aurora's eyes widened, her hands clutching his shoulders as she took over the motion.

  Julian urged her on. His grip became bruising as his thrusts quickened, turned savage. His powerful hands worked her, dragged her down, impaling her on his full length. His eyes blazed topaz fire, his teeth clenched as he battled against the climax escalating inside him.

  Abruptly he lost the battle.

  With a feral shout, Julian went rigid, disbelief flashing in his eyes as he swelled—and exploded. Crushing his wife's loins to his, he plummeted over the edge, the corded muscles in his neck standing out as he lurched upward again and again, pounding into Aurora with the full force of his climax. "Aurora…" he gasped. "Come with me. Come … with … me…" His eyes slid shut as wild hot bursts of completion jetted from his body into hers.

  Julian's plea, the feeling of his seed spurting into her, propelled Aurora into her own release. Grasping his forearms, she followed him into the sun, crying out his name, shuddering as gripping spasms claimed her, clenched about her husband's pulsing flesh.

  She went limp, sagging against him like a rag doll, grateful for the solid strength of his arms as they held her. She pressed her head to his chest, hearing his heart thunder against her ear, the harsh, uneven sound of his breathing.

  "God," he managed. "That was … unbelievable."

  With the greatest of efforts, Aurora nodded, not eve
n bothering to raise her head. "It grows more shattering each time," she whispered raggedly, her limbs still quivering with reaction.

  Something about her response caused Julian to tense anew—this time not in passion. "Aurora." He tugged back her head, silently commanding her to look at him. "You can barely speak. And you're trembling like a leaf. Did I hurt you?"

  Aurora's lashes lifted. "Oh, no," she refuted at once. "On the contrary, I never imagined so splendid a bath. Nor so splendid a lady's maid."

  Julian looked visibly relieved, if not amused. "Nevertheless, this bath was meant to ease your discomfort, not worsen it." He shook his head, uttering a stunned admission evidently meant more for himself than for her. "The problem is, I can't keep my hands off you."

  "What an exhilarating confession," Aurora replied, giving her husband an impish look. "Too exhilarating to question. And so opportune. After all, I have yet to be washed—a serious dilemma, given that the water has grown cold. So please put your preoccupation to good use; scrub me as quickly as those incomparably skilled hands can manage, then transport me to your bed." She shifted her hips a tantalizing fraction. "After which, I invite you to indulge your craving—and your hands—yet again."

  Julian's body leapt to life, his fleeting moments of temperance forgotten. "Again and again, soleil," he muttered thickly, reaching for the soap. "So many times, in fact, that it might be days before we return to Pembourne."

  * * *

  Aurora tended to agree.

  The night was everything she'd dreamed of and more, endless hours drenched in a sensuality more exquisite than she'd ever imagined possible. Julian was tireless, his stamina far surpassing hers, his inhibitions nil, his desire for her unquenchable.

  Finally, just before dawn, they rested, Aurora's head nestled in the curve of her husband's shoulder.

  "Have I overtaxed you?" Julian murmured, sifting strands of Aurora's red-gold hair through his fingers.

  Aurora smiled. "I was about to ask the same question of you."

  A chuckle. "Fear not. I'm exceptionally resilient when it comes to you. Whatever limits are to be set must be yours to determine."

  "Mine? Oh, dear. I guess we really won't be returning to Pembourne anytime soon."

  "Does that disturb you?"

  "Given the cause of our detainment—no. The Fox and the Falcon have waited this long. They'll wait a bit longer."

  "Indeed they will." Julian traced the delicate curve of his wife's spine. "I haven't forgotten my promise, you know."

  "Which promise is that?"

  "To show you the world. The moment the black diamond is restored to its rightful home, you and I will go on an extended wedding trip."

  Aurora's face lit up. "That sounds perfect." An inquisitive pucker formed between her brows. "Don't you ordinarily travel alone?"

  "Always."

  "I thought so, given your line of work."

  "A wedding trip with you can hardly be described as work, soleil," he said huskily.

  "I realize that. Still…" A thoughtful pause. "Julian, you invited no one to our wedding. Surely there must be someone you're bound to—a friend, a colleague?"

  "Not particularly."

  She sighed. "You're as autonomous as Slayde used to be."

  "You sound amazed."

  "Puzzled is a better choice of words. Having been alone a great deal of my life, I can't imagine anyone choosing a life of loneliness."

  "Choosing to be alone doesn't necessarily imply that one is lonely. It simply implies that one elects when he'll have company and who that company will be."

  "Women, you mean?"

  "Why do you assume that?"

  "Because I saw the expression on that barmaid's face when we were at Dawlish's. She looked like a mare snuggling up to a stallion."

  "A stallion?" Julian's grin was seductive. "I rather like that analogy."

  "I don't."

  "Meaning?"

  "Meaning I don't think I can abide infidelity." Aurora felt a wave of surprise at the fervor of her own declaration. "Odd, I never considered that fact before—probably because I never truly expected to marry. But now that I have, albeit under a highly unconventional set of circumstances, I find the whole idea of faithlessness unacceptable." She inclined her head, gave her husband another quizzical look. "Is that going to present a problem?"

  Julian's forefinger traced her kiss-swollen mouth. "Soleil, the only problem I foresee is my insatiable craving for you. With you in my bed, I have little interest—or remaining stamina—for other women."

  Aurora's turquoise eyes twinkled. "And when you're away from me?"

  "I'll work on regaining my strength. You'd best do the same." His knuckles brushed her cheek. "Because when I return, you won't be leaving this bed for a week."

  "Now that particular warning I like." Aurora bent, kissed the hard planes of Julian's chest. "So long as you don't travel without me too often."

  "You have my word, soleil." He rolled her onto her back, his eyes burning with that now-familiar fire. "I can hardly wait to introduce you to the world."

  "Among other things," Aurora replied with a tantalizing smile.

  "Oh, yes. Most definitely among other things."

  * * *

  The sun continued to make its ascent, drizzling daylight over Cornwall and all of England. Throughout the shires people began opening their morning newspapers, astonished to read that the Huntleys and the Bencrofts had forged their families, that the Earl of Pembourne had bestowed his sister's hand in marriage upon none other than the newly ascended Duke of Morland.

  In his quiet Devonshire manor, Viscount Guillford sighed, rereading the announcement for the second time then folding the paper and laying it on his end table. So Morland had married Aurora. 'Twas a noble gesture—the only gesture—he supposed. Still, he was surprised Pembourne had permitted the union, given his feelings for the Bencrofts. Ah well. Once again, life had taken an unexpected turn, one to which he'd have to resign himself. After all, he couldn't very well marry a woman who'd been discovered in another man's bed, no matter how appealing she might be.

  Wearily Guillford rubbed his eyes. 'Twas time to reassess his options and redirect his future.

  * * *

  Miles away in a seedy Cornish pub, a stout and bristled man was reading the same wedding announcement—but experiencing a far more violent reaction.

  Downing his ale, he stared at the newspaper, his black eyes boring into the words.

  Once again, that bastard plans to seize what he wants, he seethed, rage pounding through his skull. Well, he'd best think again. This fortuitous union of his won't go unchallenged. He'll pay. On my brother's grave, he'll pay.

  * * *

  Chapter 7

  « ^ »

  Merlin was back.

  That was Aurora's first thought—her only thought—as she sat beside her husband in Pembourne's sitting room, listening to him provide Slayde and Courtney with a direct, precise explanation of the truth behind the Fox and the Falcon. Undaunted by either Slayde's terse interruptions or Courtney's white-faced stare, Julian pressed on, offering the facts and evidence with a master's skill and an investigator's objectivity. Gone was the provocative, unhurried lover of the past few nights, in his place an intense, commanding man as single-purposed as he was imposing.

  Realization dawned, blatant and sobering.

  Aurora might know her husband in the biblical sense, but in every other way Julian Bencroft remained an enigma.

  "This is incomprehensible," Slayde muttered when at last Julian fell silent. Reaching out, he took the fox-handled dagger from the strongbox Julian gave him, examining it briefly before turning his attention to Geoffrey's journal, skimming the pages one by one. "All these years. All that hatred."

  "Senseless hatred," Julian amended. "Hatred steeped in nothing but lies. Lies that drove our families apart, and precluded us from finding the very thing we all sought—the black diamond. Well, that will all change. As of now."

  S
layde's head snapped up, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Is that why you married my sister? To expedite your search for the stone?"

  Julian never so much as blinked. "To some extent, yes."

  "Dammit." Slayde's fist slammed to the table. "I should have followed my instincts, kept you as far away from Aurora as possible. You might not be a vicious blackguard like your father, but your motives are equally selfish."

  "Slayde, stop," Aurora demanded, gripping the arms of her chair.