Amused and impressed by the unusual colloquy at the window, Julian hitched himself onto his elbows. He gazed at her naked back curved in the open window and lost interest in the conversation. She did have the most entrancing backside, he thought dreamily.
“There.” Tamsyn straightened. “That's all settled, then.”
“Good. Then perhaps you'd like to get back here:' he requested in a tone of ironic courtesy.
“Oh, have you recovered?” She turned with a grin. “I anticipate a full recovery in about two minutes.
Now, get the hell over here!”
Tamsyn hopped across the room and leaped onto the bed beside him. “Yes, milord colonel. Anything you say, milord colonel.”
Chapter Twenty-three
TAMSYN WAS STILL ASLEEP WHEN JULIAN AWOKE IN THE morning. It was raining outside, and the room was dark, the general gloom exacerbated by the massive oak furniture and the heavy velvet hangings. The house was badly in need of redecorating, but he'd always assumed that it could wait until he married. A wife would enjoy putting her own mark on the place, much easier to do than at Tregarthan, which bore the unmistakable imprint of four generations of St. Simons.
He'd spent so little time in London in the last few years that the general air of neglect in Audley Square hadn't troubled him unduly, but now it occurred to him that he probably ought to tackle the issue before the deterioration became too bad. The prospect of his marriage was way in the future, something he couldn't contemplate until Napoleon was finally defeated.
He turned his head on the pillow to look at the sleeping face beside him. At some point he was going to have to find himself a wife, but he could not get away from the rueful knowledge that drifting in this diminutive bandit's anarchic, sensual wonderland was in a fair way to spoiling him for the kind of woman who would make an exemplary Lady St. Simon of Tregarthan.
His memories of the night remained sharply vivid both in his body and in his mind. It was one of Tamsyn's talents that every lovemaking with her was somehow unique, had something special that lived on in delicious memory.
He sat up to look at the time. It was six, and he was to meet with Lord Liverpool at eight.
Tamsyn groaned and turned onto her stomach, burying her face in the pillows. “What are you doing?”
“Getting up.” Bending, he kissed the back of her neck, and she wriggled at the tickling warmth of his breath. “Are you coming back to Spain with me, Tamsyn?”
“Why else do you think I'm here?” she mumbled into the pillow.
“And you'll give up the idea of finding your mother's family?” He stroked a finger down her spine.
Tamsyn lifted her head out of the pillow. “Why did you say it wasn't right for me to stay in Cornwall? I thought I was doing very well. People at the party seemed to think I fitted in all right.”
“But you were playing a part. We both know that the person you really are doesn't have a place in that kind of life, Tamsyn. You would be bored to tears in a few weeks once the novelty had worn off.”
“But I played the part well,” she insisted.
“Yes, I grant you that.”
Tamsyn dropped her head back into the pillow. He was right that it wasn't the ideal life for her, and she'd certainly never intended that it would be permanent. But she could learn to adapt in the right circumstances. At least Julian had admitted that she could fit in if she put her mind to it. It was a step in the right direction.
“And you've abandoned the idea of finding your mother's family?” he repeated.
“Yes,” she said, reflecting that since she'd already found them, it was hardly a lie.
Relief was sweet. He ran his hand in a slow, stroking caress down her back beneath the covers. “Go back to sleep, buttercup.” She moaned into the pillow but made no attempt to stop him when he slipped from the bed. He pulled the bed curtains tightly around her before ringing for shaving water.
Julian dressed rapidly in the scarlet tunic and fur pelisse of the cavalry officer, buckling on his sword belt, his curved sword snug against his hip. He was on army business, and his reflection in the mirror brought him deep satisfaction. It was good to be dressed again in this familiar way on an enterprise that was vital to the business that informed his life. He'd rather be on the battlefield, but soon he would be. They would go back together, and there would be no resentment, no anger, no sense of being used, to spoil the pleasure they took in and of each other.
Before he left, he drew aside the bed curtains. Tamsyn was asleep again, turned away from him, her cheek pillowed on her hand, her complexion delicately flushed with sleep. He stood for a minute looking down at her, unaware that he was smiling but aware that he was stirred by her yet again. But it wasn't the usual hot, racing blood of arousal he felt, it was something much softer.
He let the curtain fall again and left the room, closing the door quietly. Before leaving the house, he told the old retainer who managed the skeleton staff in the house that there was a young lady in his apartments who should be provided with whatever she asked for.
“Yes, my lord.” The man bowed as he held open the front door. It wasn't the first time his lordship had entertained a bit of muslin in the London house, and doubtless it wouldn't be the last.
As soon as the door closed on Julian, Tamsyn sat up, not a sign of sleep in her eyes. She hadn't wanted to continue that conversation, and feigning sleep had seemed the easiest way to avoid it. If it could possibly be managed, her mother's family would never be mentioned between them again. If it was at all possible, the colonel should forget that her mother had had a family.
Tamsyn knew exactly what she had to do now. If Julian discovered the truth about the Penhallans and what had really brought her to England, then everything would be over. He would not be able to tolerate the thought of being a tool in such a deception, so.he mustn't find out. But since she'd begun the game with Cedric then she had to finish it in some way. She could no lodger afford to expose his treachery, since that would mean revealing her own identity in public-but Cedric didn't know that, and the threat of it gave her a powerful weapon. If she played her cards right, she could come away with the Penhallan diamonds.
It would be a fitting restitution, one that Cecile and the baron would find pleasing. And once that was settled, she could return to Spain with the colonel and work to weave her future into his.
She sprang energetically out of bed, splashed her face with the rapidly cooling water in the ewer, borrowed Julian's tooth powder, used his comb, and dressed. Then she ran downstairs. Before she went back to Cornwall to tidy up the loose ends, she had a little plan for the colonel's entertainment, one that would throb and glow in his memory until she returned.
An elderly man was crossing the hall. He looked up and blinked rheumy eyes in astonishment as Tamsyn jumped from the bottom stair.
“Good morning, you must be Belton,” she said with a cheerful smile. “Lady Fortescue told me how wonderfully well you manage this household.”
Lady Fortescue! The old man stared, and Tamsyn could almost see the cogs turning in his brain as he tried to fit this astonishing britches-clad figure who'd spent the night in his lordship's bed with Lord St. Simon's sister.
“If Lord St. Simon returns before I do, will you tell him that I'll be back this afternoon?” she said blithely, going to the door.
“Yes, miss,” he muttered, belatedly moving to open the door.
“That's all right, I can manage, thank you, Belton.”
Tamsyn pulled open the door. “Oh, it's raining again! What a poxy miserable climate this is.” She pulled up the hood of her cloak, raised a hand in farewell to the dumbstruck servant. “Until this afternoon!” And she was gone, jumping down the three steps to the pavement and racing up the street, head down against the persistent drizzle.