Nicola Cornick - The Notorious Lord

‘I said nothing. You were the one who made the assumption that I was in the stables to try and steal a march on you in the hunt for the treasure.’

Rachel felt as though she was about to burst with indignation. ‘But you let me carry on believing it!’

‘Of course. I did not wish you to become suspicious and possibly put yourself in danger.’

Rachel frowned. ‘You did not correct my false assumption. There is some deceit in that.’

‘Rachel,’ Cory said, ‘we have just been discussing you telling me a direct lie about your presence on the terrace at the ball. I do not think that you are in a position to haul me over the coals for deceit.’

Rachel had the grace to feel slightly ashamed. ‘I suppose not. This whole matter smacks of deception, if the truth be told.’

‘Spying usually does,’ Cory pointed out. ‘It is an ugly business.’

Rachel was still sorting the information in her head, assessing and re-assessing all the things that had happened, thinking of Cory’s behaviour. ‘When you and Richard Kestrel came to Saltires that afternoon,’ she said, ‘what was your purpose there? For surely you had one…’

‘You require us to have more of a purpose than simply to flirt with the ladies of the reading group?’ Cory asked mockingly.

Rachel studied his face. ‘Yes, I do.’ She waved a hand about in agitation. ‘You are doing it again-trying to encourage me to make assumptions so that you do not have to answer my questions!’

Cory possessed himself of her hand again and gave her a smile that made her feel quite weak. ‘I assure you that I had no intention of deliberately misleading you again,’ he said. ‘The truth is that someone took a shot at me on my way home from Midwinter Royal that night, Rachel. When we came to the reading group the following day, it was with the intention of discovering who it had been.’

Rachel stared at Cory in utter disbelief. There was a singing in her ears and she could almost feel the colour draining from her face. Cory was watching her with a mixture of concern and speculation as he took in her distress. He looked exactly the same to her and yet somehow her perspective had shifted one final time, the pieces clicking into place with the neat precision of a wooden puzzle. Rachel knew then that if she ever lost him she would feel wrenched in two, as though a most fundamental part of her was missing. She felt shocked and dazed and terrified. Then she felt angry.

‘Someone shot at you?’ she whispered. She freed her hand from Cory’s grasp and thumped him ineffectually on the chest. ‘Someone shot at you, Cory Newlyn, and you sit there telling me about it weeks later, as though you are relating an incident at a garden party? Good God, I knew that you had a reputation for coolness, but this is beyond anything!’

She was startled to see that she was shaking. She put her hands up to her face briefly, then sat back, blinking. Someone had shot at Cory. Someone had tried to kill him. Nothing that he had told her up to this point had made anything like the impact on her that that simple sentence had done. She felt shaken to the core.

She saw something change in Cory’s face then and he pulled her into his arms and held her close. With a muttered imprecation he loosened the ribbons of her bonnet, pushing it back so that he could rest his cheek against hers. One hand stroked her hair. He was murmuring soothing words and the combination of his voice and the gentling of his hands steadied her. It felt very right to be in his arms and safety and comfort flooded through her. The tears that threatened her receded a little.

‘I cannot believe it,’ she said unsteadily.

Cory’s arms tightened about her. ‘There is nothing to be afraid of, Rachel. I am quite safe.’

‘That is not the point.’ Rachel’s gloved fingers tangled with his lapels and she gave him a little shake. ‘You could have been killed.’

Cory pressed his lips to her hair. ‘But I was not. Rachel, I swear that I did not mean to frighten you. The only reason that I did not tell you this before was because the whole of this business has been secret and I had no wish to put you in danger.’

Rachel relaxed slightly. Gradually the fear melted away and another awareness crept in. She could feel Cory’s heart beating steadily under her ear. With her nose buried in his shirt, she could inhale the dry, pleasant smell of the material and beneath it the muskier, sensual smell of his skin. Her nerves prickled. It felt warm and familiar to be in his arms, but there was another feeling there, an excitement underneath that was very different.

With deliberation, Rachel drew away a little and looked at him. ‘So you came to the reading group the following day to see if you could work out who it was who attacked you?’

‘I had injured them,’ Cory said gently.

Rachel shook her head slightly. ‘I cannot believe it could be one of us. It simply is not possible…’

Cory did not say anything and after a moment she sighed.

‘What are you thinking?’ Cory asked.

‘I am wondering what would happen if they tried again,’ Rachel said honestly. ‘Until the culprit is caught it cannot be safe for you, Cory.’

Cory gave her his brilliant smile. ‘Do not be concerned, Rachel. My attacker took a chance because I was alone that night. These days I make sure that I am in company all the time.’

Rachel rubbed her fingers absentmindedly over the material of his sleeve. ‘Do not jest, Cory. Whoever it is knows that you suspect them and as a result you are in danger.’

‘I can look after myself,’ Cory said, with what Rachel felt was a deplorably casual air. ‘Besides, we will catch them, Rae. It is only a matter of time.’

Rachel held his gaze. ‘There is something that I must know, Cory.’ She sighed again. ‘I suppose that when Justin Kestrel and his brothers were doing the pretty by all of us it was merely in the interests of finding out the identity of the spy? Not that I thought them sincere, of course, but I had no idea they were quite so shallow.’

She felt hurt. She had known the Kestrels were not interested in matrimony, but it felt like a betrayal to think that their charming manners were completely false.

Cory laughed. ‘Oh, you do not need to fear that it was all pretence,’ he said drily. ‘Richard Kestrel likes you immensely. Why do you think I was so damnably jealous just now?’

Rachel’s gaze flew to his face. ‘Jealous? But-’ She struggled, grasped at a straw, anything to keep the conversation away from the two of them. ‘But Lord Richard is in love with Mrs Stratton…’

‘I know,’ Cory said. ‘In fact, Richard is so in love he can barely keep his mind on what he is trying to achieve. The more time he spends in her company, the less sense one gets from him.’

Rachel gave a little gesture. ‘Then I do not see-’ She stopped. She knew that she was wandering into dangerous ground, but it was too late now. All half-truths and half-measures between them had to be at an end.

‘You do not see why I was jealous?’ Cory asked ruefully. ‘I dare say I have no cause, but that has nothing to do with emotion, Rae. I do not wish to share your attention with anyone.’

Rachel felt a rush of powerful feeling. ‘You speak most convincingly,’ she said sharply, ‘but how am I to know that your protestations are true when this whole business has been a charade from start to finish-?’

She broke off at the expression in Cory’s eyes. ‘Rae,’ he said, ‘there was no pretence. Never between me and you. Shall I prove it to you?’

Cory took her hand in his again and it was all that Rachel could do not to wrench it away from him, so sharp was her awareness of him. She wanted to tell him that he was being foolish, to beg him to say no more, to retreat to the comfortable grounds of friendship. But it was far too late for that. She had already betrayed herself with her accusations of disloyalty. She knew she had given away the fact that she cared for him. And she knew what Cory’s next question would be. She waited, her breath coming quickly, lightly.

‘Why were you so upset when I told you about what had happened to me?’ Cory asked softly.

Rachel did not meet his eyes. Her answer stumbled a little. ‘Cory, you are my dearest and my oldest friend,’ she said. ‘How could I possibly greet with equanimity the thought that someone had taken a shot at you? You may have that hardihood, but I do not.’

Cory smiled. He was stroking her hand softly, sending little quivers of feeling along her nerves. ‘Are you certain that that was all it was?’ he pursued.

Rachel’s gaze clung to his. Her senses felt cloudy, confused. ‘That is all it can be,’ she whispered.

There was a moment of stillness, then Cory pulled her to him, his arms hard about her again. This time there was no attempt at comfort. This time his mouth took hers hungrily, almost angrily, as though he were trying to prove a point. The kiss was rough and demanding, overpowering with pent-up need. Rachel’s mind spun. The minute he had touched her she had been lost, aware of nothing but the hard muscles of his arms beneath her fingers, the heated, insistent claim of his mouth, the scent of him, the pressure of his body against hers.

She forgot that they were in the phaeton, forgot that it was standing in full view of the track, forgot her scruples and doubts. Her heart was hammering and she could think of nothing but the absolute bliss and perfection of being in Cory’s arms, the overwhelming sensation of yielding to him, of coming home.

Cory tossed her hat on to the seat beside them and with one swift movement pulled half the pins from her hair so that it slithered down her back in heavy chestnut waves. Rachel gave a little cry. It felt extraordinary, intimate, as though he had stripped her naked. She opened her mouth to protest at the disorder to her appearance, but before she could say a word Cory had tangled one gloved hand in the shining tresses and covered her mouth with his again, kissing her deeply. Rachel forgot all about neatness and gave him back kiss for kiss, adrift with an uncontrollable need for him, clutching at his shoulders to draw him closer, to taste and to tease and to demand from him a reaction as powerful as the one he aroused in her.