Heart of Fire

Gray didn’t really understand it. He was a man of lusty appetites. Why this one had snagged his interest so strongly he could not say. There was something about her he couldn’t quite figure out, and perhaps the mystery drew him. Whatever it was, he wanted her and he was fairly certain she wanted him.

They were both mature adults. At thirty, he wasn’t too old for Letty—or whoever she turned out to be. It really no longer mattered. She posed no threat that he could discover. Whoever she was, if he had run across her in London, he would have made her his mistress. She needed money. He would set her up in a cottage somewhere near. He would treat her well, see her financially cared for and, in return, she would service his needs.

Gray almost smiled.

On the morrow, he would send a note of apology to Bethany for failing to arrive for their intended assignation. In the meantime he would begin his campaign to bring Mrs. Moss to his bed.

With that thought in mind, Gray headed toward the stairs leading up to his suite in the west wing of the castle. It was dark in the house. Only the gas wall sconces Rebecca had installed were burning, leaving just enough light to find his way. He climbed the stairs, strode down the corridor and pulled open the heavy door.

The curtains were drawn and an oil lamp burned on the bedside table, the wick turned down low. For an instant, he figured Samir must have anticipated his return in that uncanny way he seemed to have and lit the lamp for him. Gray frowned. Even Samir couldn’t have read his thoughts tonight. They were too uncertain.

Stepping quietly into the sitting room, he surveyed the interior. The hair prickled at the back of his neck. The sixth sense he’d developed in the army was kicking in, telling him someone else was in the room.

At first, the space appeared to be empty. Then his gaze lit on the heavy gold velvet draperies and an unnatural bulge there. A pair of feet peeped out from underneath—small, feminine feet, he saw, encased in soft kid slippers.

The shoes were too fine to belong to a servant, yet a bit scuffed with wear. With a flash of certainty, Gray knew those small feet belonged to Letty Moss.

What was she doing here? Trying to steal his money or something else of value? Her worn garments betrayed her desperate need. He stared at the curtain, a wicked thought coming into his mind.

Dressed in his riding clothes, Gray sat down on the stool in front of the dresser and began to tug off his boots. One after the other, they hit the floor with a heavy thud. His coat came off, then his shirt, leaving him bare-chested. Rising from the stool, he started toward the window, unbuttoning the fly of his riding breeches along the way.

A faint gasp sounded through the curtain as the flap came undone and his breeches slid a little lower on his hips.

“You may come out, Mrs. Moss—unless you wish to remain there while I finish disrobing.”

Slight movement rippled the curtain. With a sigh of resignation, Letty stepped out from behind the gold velvet, her chin lifting as she turned to face him. Though she stood ramrod straight, her eyes widened at the sight of his bare torso, the curly black hair on his chest. She spotted the unbuttoned fly of his breeches and her cheeks turned scarlet.

“Might I ask what you are doing in my room?” he asked calmly, though having her there was making him feel anything but calm. Letty moistened her lips, and heat pooled low in his groin.

“I, um, got lost. I was out in the garden, you see. I came up the back stairs and I—I must have turned the wrong way when I reached the second floor landing.”

“Ah…that must be it. Your room is in about the same location at the opposite end of the house.”

“Yes, it is.” Her relief turned to suspicion. “How do you know the location of my room?”

He gave her a wolfish smile. “I like to personally assure myself my guests are comfortable. You are comfortable, are you not, Mrs. Moss?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Not at the moment.”

He closed the distance between them, stopped directly in front of her. Gray caught her shoulders and felt her tremble, but she didn’t back away. “I want to know what you’re doing in my room, and this time I want the truth.” He gently shook her. “Were you looking for money? I know you have very little. I suppose I could understand that.”

Her chin firmed. “I am not a thief.”

“What then?”

“I just…” She released a shaky breath. “I wanted to know something about you. You’ve allowed me into your home. I thought I might learn something of what you are like if I took a look round your suite.”

His fingers dug into her shoulders. “Why would you care?”

Letty stared up at him with the greenest eyes he’d ever seen. “There are…a number of reasons. Some of them even I don’t understand.” The words rang with a sincerity that seemed to surprise them both.

Gray looked into her beautiful face, the softly winged russet eyebrows, the small indentation in her chin. He watched the rise and fall of her breasts, and a wave of lust hit him like a blow.

He wanted Letty Moss. With her lovely copper hair and small but voluptuous body, she drew him like a moth to the flame. Gray slid an arm around her waist and hauled her against him. Her eyes widened in shock the instant before his mouth crushed down over hers. For a moment, Letty stiffened, her small hands pressing against his chest as she tried to push him away, but Gray refused to let her go.

The heat of her surrounded him, the taste of her inflamed him. He drew her closer, enfolded her in his arms and kissed her until her mouth began to soften under his. Letty began to kiss him back, and a groan escaped from deep in his throat. Slanting his mouth over hers, he continued the gentle assault, inhaling her soft rose scent and hardening to the point of pain.

Coaxing her lips apart, he slid his tongue inside to taste her more fully, and Letty melted against him, her full breasts pillowing into his chest. Gray’s whole body tightened and he fought the urge to open the front of her simple gown and take the creamy weight into his mouth.

Her hands ran over his bare chest, slid around his neck, and she went up on her toes to increase the contact. She was all warm, willing woman, exactly what he needed.

Gray lifted her into his arms and strode toward the door to his bedroom—and Letty began to scream.

“Quiet! What the hell are you doing? Do you want to bring the entire household down on us?”

“You put me down this instant!”

For a long moment, he just held her, his body aching with need, his shaft hard as stone. Just seconds ago, Letty had been warm and pliant. Now he could feel her stiff restraint and knew that whatever fires had burned between them had begun to flame out.

Reluctantly, he set her on her feet. “You seemed willing enough a minute ago.”

She glanced away. In the dim light of the lamp, he could see the hot wash of color in her cheeks. “I—I don’t know what happened. I just… I didn’t realize it would feel so…” Letty shook her head and Gray frowned.

For all her passionate responses, he had always sensed her innocence. Was his bloody cousin Cyrus such a miserable lover he had never bothered with foreplay, never managed to arouse his wife in any way?

“I must go,” she said. “I apologize for coming here. It was stupid and meddlesome. I hope you will forgive me.”

“Listen to me, Letty. If you’re frightened, you don’t have to be. I won’t do anything to hurt you.”

“I have to go,” she repeated, backing toward the door. “My maid will be waiting to help me undress.” Her cheeks colored again at the mention of disrobing, and Gray felt a renewed flare of lust.

Letty spun toward the door and he didn’t try to stop her. It was clear his seduction was going to take more time than he had planned.

Still, he had no doubt of the outcome.

Letty Moss was going to be his. If money was what she had come for, he would see that she had it. Whatever she needed, he would give it to her.

That and something far more enjoyable.

Gray felt the rare pull of a smile. Soon Letty Moss would be spending her nights in his bed.

Oh, dear God! Trembling at the memory of what had just occurred, Corrie stood outside the door to her bedroom, trying to catch her breath. Her heart was hammering, her composure shattered. Allison would be waiting inside. She would want to know what had happened. Dear Lord, what would Ally say if she knew?

Corrie leaned her head against the wall and forced herself to take long, calming breaths. She had done as she planned and gone into the earl’s private chambers, but she had found nothing of interest. At least nothing that connected Tremaine with Laurel. Careful not to disturb anything or leave something out of place, she had searched every dresser drawer, gone through two tall rosewood armoires, the earl’s portable writing desk, even his clothes. She had found nothing.

Nothing except the earl himself.

Sweet saints in heaven!

How could she have allowed him to kiss her? How could she have kissed him back the way she did?

A fresh wave of heat curled through her at the remembered feel of his mouth moving hotly over hers, the hard muscles of his naked chest pressing against her breasts. She remembered the way her nipples had tightened and begun to throb, aching with a need she had never felt before. She’d wanted to touch him all over, to feel those hard muscles against her bare skin, to taste him, to—

She broke off at the horrifying thought. Sweet God, the rogue deserved every bit of his scandalous reputation. He was a devil with the skill of a sorcerer.

Unconsciously, she reached up to touch her kiss-swollen lips, which tingled and felt oddly tender. She could still taste him there. If she closed her eyes, she could recall his male scent, tinged with the fragrance of sandalwood.

He was a skillful seducer, and yet, after a sample of his scorching passion, Corrie had never held a stronger conviction that Gray Forsythe was not Laurel’s lover, not the man her sister had fallen so deeply in love with, a man she had protected until the end of her life.

Corrie knew Laurel too well, and was beginning to know the powerful earl. The two were completely ill suited. There was no way her sister could have withstood the intensity of a man like Gray.

Still, Corrie couldn’t completely exonerate him until she found the man who was Laurel’s beloved.

The man who might have murdered her.

Taking a slow, deep breath, smoothing wisps of hair back into the chignon at the nape of her neck, Corrie opened the door and stepped into her bedroom.

Nine

After a long, mostly sleepless night, Corrie awakened to a rainy May morning. Anxious to escape the house and avoid the Earl of Tremaine, she skipped breakfast, dressed simply and set off for the village, despite the darkened sky.

The town, some of the stone buildings of which were as old as the castle, was quiet this early. Corrie strolled through the shops that were just opening their doors, bought a crumpet and tea in a tiny salon and a length of pretty blue silk ribbon to tie back her hair. She spoke to a number of the local women, hoping to pick up a bit of gossip, then headed for the church.

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