Intimate Betrayal Read online

  “Not on this particular matter, my dear,” he insisted firmly. “Although it would be a help if you answered a few questions concerning the renovations of the manor house.”

  “What do you wish to know?”

  Morgan sat up eagerly. Interviewing Alyssa might lead to a valuable clue. “Did you hire each man on the work crews or did Mr. Walsh do the employing?”

  Alyssa took a moment to remember. “I engaged the majority of the work crews. A few of the specialty craftsmen were brought in by Mr. Walsh, especially the plasterers and the artist who painted the wall mural in the dining room and on the second story.”

  “Where did you find the men you hired?”

  “All were from the village or the neighboring farms.”

  “Were there any strangers among them? Men that you did not personally know?”

  Alyssa considered his question thoughtfully for several minutes. “I don’t believe so. I will have to check the payroll, but I’m fairly certain all the workmen I hired were from this county.”

  “What about the craftsmen Mr. Walsh hired? Were these men known by him?”

  “I’m not sure. I do know he worked with the painter before. They mentioned a ceiling mural in Lord Thomasville’s chapel that was painted last winter. I’m also fairly certain two of the plasterers worked on other jobs with Mr. Walsh prior to coming to the manor. I don’t know about the others.” Alyssa sighed heavily. “If you explained precisely what you are attempting to discover, I might provide you with more pertinent information, Morgan.”

  The duke weighed his decision carefully before speaking. “I placed the envelope you saw me recover from the old desk the last time I was at Westgate Manor in early spring. Since that time, I have reason to believe someone discovered the envelope, read the contents, arid sold the rather sensitive information inside. Do you have any suspicions who that individual might be?”

  “No,” she admitted, feeling totally puzzled. What could possibly be inside the envelope that someone would want to buy? Alyssa tipped her head coyly to one side. “You realize, of course, I understand less now than before your explanation.”

  “I am sorry,” he answered solemnly. “I don’t mean to be so bloody mysterious. You must believe me when I say it is safer if you don’t know the whole truth.”

  Alyssa became alarmed at his serious tone. “You are not in danger, are you, Morgan?” she said in a voice laced with fear.

  “No,” he reassured her, touched by her concern. “It would help, however, if I could determine which individuals had access to the desk.”

  “Anyone on the estate could have easily come to the library and searched the room. Would someone have been sent here specifically looking for these papers?”

  “It is possible,” Morgan replied, impressed with her quick grasp of the situation. “My theory is that someone stumbled upon the papers by accident, but was knowledgeable enough about the information to realize its value.”

  “What exactly was inside the envelope, Morgan?” Alyssa joked. “A treasure map?” At his answering frown, Alyssa became more serious. “I can verify the workmen I hired were locals, known by me personally. The only strangers working at the manor were the men engaged by Mr. Walsh. Only he can vouch for their character. There wasn’t anyone else here, unless you suspect Tristan and Caroline.”

  “Anything is possible,” Morgan retorted grimly.

  “Not Tristan,” Alyssa whispered in horror.

  “No, of course not Tris,” Morgan hastened to assure her. “Caroline did, however, bring countless numbers of her friends and family to the manor. Can you recall if a Comte Henri Duponce or Madeline Duponce visited?”

  Alyssa stiffened visibly at the questions, instantly recognizing the Duponce name. “I never met either of them, but Caroline and Priscilla seldom bothered me during their visits unless they had a specific question. Generally I was too busy. Mr. Walsh always spent time entertaining them. The one person I distinctly remember Mr. Walsh mentioning was Caroline’s younger brother, Gilbert. Mr. Walsh thought he was an exceptionally enlightened individual.”

  Morgan merely nodded at her answer, trying to digest the information. “If you will excuse me, my dear, I must spend a few moments reviewing the folders you gave me earlier today.”

  “Now?” Alyssa’s green eyes darkened with astonishment. True, they were hardly a typical bride and groom, but it was their wedding night.

  “Yes, now,” he answered. “You go off to bed. I’ll join you in a little while.”

  Alyssa was hurt, but did not want to appear waspish, so she left Morgan to his privacy. She entered her bedchamber, feeling in a bit of a temper, and sat down at the dressing table. Quickly she undid her upswept hairstyle, vigorously shaking out her hair. She reached automatically for her brush, but could not find it on the table. As she examined the room closely, she saw none of her personal items were in the room.

  Alyssa left the bedchamber in search of Mavis.

  “Oh, there you are,” Mavis said, suddenly entering the hallway. “I thought you might have gone to your old room by mistake.”

  “I don’t understand, Mavis.”

  “Tonight you will be sleeping in the master suite, Your Grace.”

  “Oh,” Alyssa squeaked softly. A sharp quiver of delight speared her heart. Morgan always slept in the master suite.

  “Come along now, Your Grace, you don’t want to keep your husband waiting.”

  Alyssa rolled her eyes. “Merciful heavens, Mavis, stop calling me Your Grace. Just because I have married a duke does not mean I’m going to start putting on airs. I’m still the same woman I was yesterday.” She looked down at her rounded belly. “Perhaps a bit more respectable than yesterday, but the same woman nonetheless.”

  Mavis merely huffed. “The duke has asked me to assist you with your evening toilette, Your Grace,” Mavis insisted defiantly.

  Alyssa threw her arms up in frustration and followed Mavis down the hall, grumbling all the way about how bossy everybody seemed to be today. Her sour mood diminished, however, upon entering the bedchamber and spying the large bathtub set before a roaring fire. Alyssa squealed with delight and cast Mavis a grateful glance. Maybe life as a duchess wouldn’t be so bad after all.

  Alyssa remained quiet as Mavis helped her remove her gown, pretty new lace-trimmed chemise, and lightweight petticoats. Alyssa sat on a low chair while Mavis untied her slippers and helped unroll her silk stockings. With Mavis’s assistance, Alyssa carefully sank into the tub, relaxing her tired muscles in the soothing warm water. Mavis bustled about the room, putting away her clothes.

  “We need to get you a proper lady’s maid,” Mavis grunted. “I’m too old for this.”

  “Ha.” Alyssa snorted. “You are enjoying every minute and you know it. Besides, I’m sure the duke will assign someone to attend me when we arrive at Ramsgate Castle.” Alyssa sat up suddenly, sloshing water out of the tub onto the hardwood floor. “Mavis, you are going to accompany me to Ramsgate Castle, aren’t you?”

  “I’d like to see anyone try to stop me,” Mavis retorted. “You need someone to look after you and that baby.”

  “Thank goodness.” Alyssa sighed with relief. She didn’t think she was ready to face her new life as a duchess without the unfailing support of Mavis, not to mention coping with the unknown mysteries of childbirth.

  When Alyssa was finished with her bath, Mavis lent a strong arm to steady her as she climbed out of the tub. Mavis quickly wrapped Alyssa in a large bath towel, and when she was dry, slipped on her nightgown.

  “Are you sure about this nightdress, Mavis?” Alyssa questioned, buttoning the sleeves. “ ’Tis a bit revealing.” The new nightgown, chosen by Mavis, was an ethereal garment, made of soft, transparent silk. The heart-shaped neckline exposed most of Alyssa’s shoulders and quite a bit of her breasts. The sleeves were long and billowing and gathered tightly at her wrists with small buttons. Alyssa felt half naked in the garment.

  “Why, you look lovely,
my girl,” Mavis insisted.

  “I am hardly a blushing young virgin, Mavis,” Alyssa commented dryly, thrusting out her belly. “And it isn’t necessary for me to look seductive for my husband. After all, it probably wouldn’t be wise to . . . to . . . I mean it probably isn’t safe if we . . . um . . .” Alyssa stammered, focusing her eyes intently on the rug.

  “Consummate your marriage?” Mavis finished in a no-nonsense tone. “I spoke with the midwife when I was in the village this afternoon. She told me it would be fine. That is, as long as you are careful, and not too . . . um . . . rough.” Now it was Mavis’s turn to blush.

  That rather embarrassing but important bit of advice given, Mavis left the room. Alyssa did not want to climb into the large four-poster bed alone. Instead she settled down in a big overstuffed chair in front of the fire to wait for Morgan. Growing bored, she scanned the room for something to occupy her time and discovered a worn volume of Shakespeare sonnets on the nightstand. Returning to her outpost on the chair, she covered her legs with a warm quilt and began reading the book.

  Morgan discovered her there several hours later, fast asleep. The fire was nearly out, but the soft glow of the embers illuminated her pale skin and coppery hair. He crossed to the other side of the room and began undressing. Naked, he shrugged into the burgundy velvet robe left by the bed. He stood quietly for several minutes watching Alyssa as she slept, admiring her delicate beauty.

  His wife. Difficult to believe. He had promised to never again domesticate himself, and yet it had happened. This marriage, Morgan vowed, would not be like his first. Remembering with painful clarity his wedding night with Valerie, Morgan shuddered. It had taken almost an hour to persuade her to make love. He had exercised great restraint, but Valerie was horrified by the entire act, weeping copious tears and refusing to speak to him.

  Morgan tried for months afterward to woo Valerie into his bed, to establish a relationship with his wife, but she remained rigid and unyielding. She suffered his advances, physical and emotional, with a martyr-like attitude, blaming him for her fear and lack of response. He never understood her. She was like two different women, pleasant and charming in front of others, cold and distant when they were alone together. Defeated, Morgan eventually ceased trying to be a husband.

  Alyssa stirred in her sleep, focusing Morgan’s attention back to the present. True, Alyssa was a very different person from Valerie, and he smiled when he thought of their lovemaking. No problem in that quarter. But there was much more to marriage than sex, and this marriage was certainly off to a rocky start. He wondered if they would be able to overcome their differences and rectify their misunderstandings. He certainly intended to try.

  Alyssa came awake suddenly, startled to find Morgan staring at her.

  “Are you finished?” she asked in a sleepy voice. Alyssa yawned lazily and rolled the stiffness from her neck. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

  “In a way,” he answered. “Come to bed now, Alyssa. It is very late.”

  Morgan reached out his arm to help her rise, giving a sharp intake of breath when he saw her stand. Her nightgown had slipped off one shoulder completely, making her look slightly rumpled and very desirable. He jerked his gaze away, appalled at the sharp twist of desire burning in his loins. Here was a woman nearly six months gone with his child and he was already hard and throbbing at the thought of bedding her.

  But Morgan hesitated. Having no experience with expectant females left him clueless in gauging Alyssa’s feelings. Would she welcome his advances? Was it safe? Could he harm her or the child? Morgan highly doubted Alyssa would know the answer and he didn’t want to create a sexual situation that might be unfulfilling for either of them.

  Disciplining himself to ignore his base desires, Morgan gingerly assisted Alyssa into the bed. Shrugging off his robe, he quickly slipped between the sheets.

  He realized his mistake the instant his bare leg touched her naked thigh. Alyssa’s nightgown was bunched up about her waist, and Morgan groaned aloud when he realized she was naked underneath. Rapidly he removed his leg. It didn’t help. He could still feel the heat from her warm body. She smelled like fresh roses, and he longed to reach over and pull her into his arms.

  Morgan rolled onto his back, shifting his position and moving as close to the edge of the bed as possible. He silently thanked Tristan for purchasing such an enormous bed. If he put enough distance between himself and Alyssa, Morgan reasoned, he would be able to control himself. He might even be able to sleep for a few hours.

  They lay in tense silence for several long moments. Alyssa waited expectantly for Morgan to turn and gather her in his arms. When she realized he wasn’t going to, she turned toward him and came up on her side, balancing herself on her elbow.

  It was nearly impossible to see his face in the dim light, but Alyssa could hear his ragged breathing, and felt the waves of tension emanating from his stiff body.

  “Morgan?” she asked softly.

  She heard his quick intake of breath. “Yes,” he answered sharply.

  Now that she had his attention, Alyssa was in a quandary, unsure how to proceed. “I . . . I’ve decided to accompany you to Ramsgate Castle tomorrow morning,” she said lamely.

  Morgan smiled into the darkness. “I’m glad,” he remarked, knowing a scene could be avoided in the morning because he had never had any intention of leaving the manor without his bride. Alyssa sighed softly and squirmed closer.

  Taking a deep breath, Morgan tried to concentrate on the green velvet bed hangings faintly visible in the semidarkness. Methodically he counted the swags of trim in an effort to focus his mind on something, anything, besides his lovely, half-naked wife.

  “Morgan?”

  “What?” he snapped.

  “I’m cold,” Alyssa lied, hoping he would take the hint. She desperately wanted to be held in his arms.

  “I’ll get another blanket,” he volunteered quickly. Morgan rose from the bed and walked to the chair by the fireplace. He retrieved the quilt Alyssa had left there, but on his way back to the bed he stumbled in the darkness, banging his shin on the edge of the large satinwood bed frame.

  Alyssa sat up abruptly, listening to Morgan’s loud, colorful swearing. “Morgan? What happened? Are you hurt?”

  “I am fine,” he replied, gritting his teeth. The pain in his leg successfully cleared his mind of visions of seduction. “Is there anything else you require while I am up, madam? A piece of fruit, a sip of wine, a drink of water, perhaps?”

  “No, nothing else,” she replied softly.

  He practically threw the blanket at her before yanking the covers back and falling into the bed. He again took a strategic position on the far side of the bed, his leg throbbing with pain.

  “Good night, madam,” he said.

  “Good night,” she echoed hastily. She waited for several minutes, gathering her courage before she spoke again. “Morgan?”

  “Go to sleep,” he growled, dipping his shoulder and presenting his back to Alyssa. He made a great show of noisily puffing his pillows before burrowing down and pulling the coverlet up to his chin.

  His dismissive gesture effectively silenced her. Grimly she arranged the extra quilt over herself. Imitating his actions, she rolled to her side, reluctantly shifting her body so her back was toward him. She felt the tears rise up in her throat, but swallowed them. She refused to cry, refused to admit how hurt she was by his coldness. He is just tired, Alyssa reasoned. He needs time to adjust to our married state. Eventually Alyssa managed to convince herself their marriage was not a colossal mistake. Exhaustion overcame anxiety and she fell asleep.

  Morgan lay awake long into the night, listening to her deep, steady breathing. He wished he hadn’t been so curt, but it was unavoidable. It was impossible for Morgan to hold and caress Alyssa without making love to her, and Morgan felt frustrated by his ignorance. He didn’t know if it was safe in her pregnant condition and he would take no risks with her or the child. He decide
d Alyssa would be examined by the family physician as soon as he could be summoned to Ramsgate Castle. The first question the duke would ask the good doctor was the state of his wife’s health. And the next would be about marital relations.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Morgan came awake slowly, the dream still fresh in his subconscious. His hand gently caressed smooth, soft skin. His body felt hot, his manhood swollen. He pushed his hips against the smooth softness, thrusting rhythmically. He heard a moan of pleasure and thought, for an instant, the noise came from his own throat, but he heard the sound again, louder this time, and it brought him completely awake.

  Alyssa was sprawled over him, her arms entwined around his neck. The erect nipples on her full, creamy breasts touched his chest sensuously through the silky fabric of her nightdress. The nightgown was bunched about her waist, and she was gloriously naked beneath it. Her legs were slightly parted, and his hand was between her thighs. Morgan thought he would explode with wanting as her hips moved instinctively against his exploring fingers. Passion engulfed him and his fingers slipped deeper inside her warmth.

  She moaned again, arching herself against him. Morgan reached over to cup her full breasts with his other hand, moving her onto her back. He ran his hand caressingly down her soft body, but stopped abruptly when he encountered the swelled mound of her belly. He sat up suddenly, removing his hands from her flesh, guiltily rearranging her nightclothes.

  Morgan concentrated on slowing his ragged breathing while Alyssa mumbled in her sleep and snuggled closer to him.

  “No more of that, my girl,” he said hoarsely, deliberately distancing himself. He straightened the bedcovers, tucking the blankets firmly around his sleeping wife. “I must wait until I know it is safe for you and our babe.”

  After Morgan was certain Alyssa was sleeping soundly, he left the bed, relieved to see dawn fast approaching. He donned his robe and crossed the room to the cold hearth. He lit a satisfactory blaze before seating himself in the same overstuffed chair Alyssa had occupied the previous evening. Distracted, he picked up the book of Shakespeare sonnets.