"You need not resort to physical violence, I’d be delighted to partner you."
He swept her onto the floor and she laughed. His eyes twinkled. They were usually the color of obsidian. Tonight they were black velvet.
He held her tightly as they spun among the couples. They didn’t touch another body in their dance. Dancing with James meant there were no collisions, no mishaps running into another couple.
He trailed his left hand down her waist to her hip. Every place he touched was left tingling. She could feel the heat from his body everywhere, permeating through her from her legs to her hips. From her waist to her chest, in her cheeks and eyelids.
She looked into his eyes. He had laughed with her as if they were old friends this afternoon. Had worried over her when she had fallen. Had carefully carried her back to the house. Had stayed with her while she slept. The beast had turned into a knight somewhere along the way.
Throughout the dance they never broke eye contact. Never spoke. His eyes held forbidden promises. He smelled rich and warm.
The music ended, but still they maintained their position. His warm hands, her trembling limbs. People pressed around them, exiting the floor, and he finally turned and led her to the terrace, one hand still caressing her waist.
She didn’t look away. She didn’t hesitate.
People were milling outside. He kept moving, heading into the garden. The crescent moon shed little light, but she could see his every movement. The focused saunter of his legs, the coiled strength in his arms. And then he pulled her into his arms.
Her mind registered a fragrant smell. They were somewhere in the rose garden.
The night was chilly but he was so warm, and so was she. He kissed her throat, trailing kisses down the bare expanse of her chest. Her head tilted back.
His kisses worked up to her jawline, then to her ear. He tugged on one lobe with his lips and heat spiraled through her. He returned his attention to her mouth, gently at first, then deepening the kiss, awakening a deep, unfamiliar ache. Her hands wound around his neck, her fingers stroking the nape, wrapping in his thick hair.
She was fully pressed against him but strained to get closer.
He swept her up and laid her down on a bench. She barely registered the cold stone. One hand cupped the back of her head while he continued to kiss her. His other hand was on her ankle, working its way up. The back of her knee. Her garter. Her thigh. Slowly inching farther up.
She gasped. He caught the sound with his mouth and she found herself kissing him hungrily, demanding more. More of everything.
He lifted her so she was straddling him, much as they were the day in the coach. Her dress bunched around them. His trousers were undone and heat pressed to heat. Calliope’s entire body was on fire and her head felt heavy. He pulled her toward him and the moonlight glinted in his eyes.
This was what the actresses discussed in titters backstage. What she had never understood. Feelings and emotions she had never experienced.
Longing poured through her, making her voice husky. "James."
The bushes rustled. "Stop complaining. The plan went perfectly."
James rose and twirled them around the hedges so quickly she nearly gasped again. His quick movements flung her dress out and back down, covering her.
"What was that?" a voice said.
"Stop changing the subject. Complaining, am I? You’re wasting precious time and you didn’t finish your job."
"I did exactly as instructed."
"No, you didn’t. She’s inside, dancing."
The voices were muffled but it was a woman arguing with a man. Calliope tried to peer through the hedge but James pulled her back against his chest. It was still warm.
"I did as instructed. You take it up with him if you’re dissatisfied."
"What about the other task, did you finish that?"
"l don’t take orders from you. But if you aren’t careful, I’ll start giving them." Calliope shuddered at the meaning in the hushed male voice.
"Just you remember. She needs to be out of the way."
"I know my position. You’d do well to remember yours."
One set of light feet beat a hasty retreat, but the heavier set didn’t move.
Calliope could feel James’s muscles tense. He was ready if the intruder turned the corner. After a moment the man headed down the same path the woman had taken, a path that led to the lake.
James waited another minute before loosening his grip. Calliope shivered and he absently ran his hands along her bare arms. "I’m going to take you back to the house."
Calliope’s insides were shaking from both thwarted desire and fear. "Who were they?"
"I don’t know, the voices were too muffled." He frowned. "I’m going to have a look around."
"James, I’m worried. Please take Roth with you."
He hesitated but nodded. "I’ll have a word with him when we return to the ballroom." James stood and set her on her feet. All of his clothing was in place, somehow. Calliope hoped she looked half as composed.
They stepped back into the pathway and exited the garden. Calliope breathed a sigh of relief when they stepped onto the terrace. They started for the ballroom doors. The festivities were still in high swing.
There was little doubt: The man and woman had been talking about her. Now they had three suspects to search for. Maybe she could convince James to let her search through Lady-
A female shriek broke through the merriment. "Oh, my God!"
The chirping of crickets and bullfrogs ceased. The ballroom stilled and then emptied as people crammed through the doors vying to see who and what caused the commotion. James and Calliope were already running toward the sound.
"The lake."
James nodded and kept running, dragging Calliope behind him. She stumbled and he slowed the pace. She could hear some of the other men catching up to them. They broke into the clearing around the lake.
James and Calliope were two of the first to arrive. Tanner, the groom, dashed in from one side of the clearing, lantern held high, and Pettigrew appeared from the other side. Neither had come from the direction of the house or stables.
Lady Willoughby was standing by the lake.
Roth was standing next to her. A body was floating face down in the water.
Pettigrew looked slightly flustered. "Tanner, wade in and retrieve the person."
Roth had made no move to retrieve the body. Calliope had thought him a fairly take-charge individual. Odd.
People started pushing against her back as they tried to move closer.
"A body!"
"Who is it?"
"Is the person alive?"
"What happened?"
"Who screamed?"
"Who did it?"
"Did what, what happened?"
Questions and comments darted around the group, which was getting larger by the second.
Tanner slipped into the water. She saw him try to hide a shudder at the temperature. He waded over to the body, fortunately close to shore, and tugged on the shirt until he was back at the water’s edge.
A stable boy assisted him in lifting the inert form and dragging it ashore. Tanner quickly exited the crowd. Probably to find a hot bath and some dry clothes.
Calliope spared the groom little thought as the moon glinted off the water and onto the body.
Dread and fear coiled in her.
The body was dressed in rich clothes. Blond hair was matted to the man’s skull.
She started praying.
Chapter 12
Pettigrew reached down and turned the body over. A letter opener protruded from the chest. "It’s Ternberry."
"Ternberry!"
"Move, I can’t see."
"Ronald Ternberry! "
"I thought he left."