Chapter Twenty One
Walking through the darkened streets of Arcvale close enough to Lucas to sense his warmth, Verity took stock of the day.
“This has been...well I don’t really know how to describe it,” she sighed. “So much happening, too few answers. It’s concerning.”
“I agree. The attack on Tabby...that we couldn’t possibly have anticipated.” He squeezed her hand hard. “It could have been you, Verity. I can’t get that out of my head...”
“I know,” she replied quietly. “Don’t imagine I haven’t thought of that. But I don’t think I’ve ever made deposits after dark. Neither has Tabby. This was a first. Also the last,” she added. “And yes, I’m furious with myself for letting her go off on her own.”
Lucas was silent for a little while as they neared his home. Then he took a breath. “She hasn’t made night deposits?”
“No. We mostly do the business end of the charity stuff in the mornings. It’s become a habit and both of us enjoy a cup of tea or coffee while we review the books, the upcoming projects, and so on.”
They reached the door of Ashcombe Cottage, and it opened promptly, revealing Edgar, feathers shining in the light from the foyer.
“Welcome home, sir, my Lady.” He bowed. “I trust all is well with you? There are rumours flying around,” he continued, stepping aside and ushering them in.
“Needless to say I am happy that neither of you seem to be harmed in any way.”
“We’re fine, Edgar. But yes, our friend Mrs Monroe was attacked while making a deposit at the bank deposit building.”
“Is she all right?”
“Yes,” Verity answered. “Thank you for asking, Edgar. That was kind of you.”
“It might not look like it, Lady Verity, but us tickerkins do worry about our people.”
She nodded her head. “Yes. My Sprocket does too, I believe.”
“Well, we’re home safe, Mrs Monroe is back in the arms of her family, and all’s well.” He sighed. “I think this calls for a brandy.”
“In the parlour, sir. Anticipating your return, I also lit the fire.”
“That is very thoughtful, Edgar,” smiled Verity. “I confess that a brandy would go down very well right now.”
“Well done, Edgar.” Lucas nodded at his tickerkin.
“Sir.” He rumbled away.
“Come on.” Lucas grabbed Verity’s hand and pulled her into the parlour. “He’s a tickerkin of his word.” Firelight sparkled off the glasses and decanter.
Shortly thereafter, tucked up in front of a warm fire, Verity sat on Lucas’s lap and sighed. “This is nice,” she murmured. “I like your taste in chairs. Large enough for two.”
“Whoever bought them obviously had this in mind.”
“Obviously.” She sipped her brandy. “Well, time to evaluate, I think. Tonight has been...quite unusual, to say the least.”
“Indeed.”
“I haven’t had chance to tell you what I found today. Why don’t we start there?”
He nodded. “Good idea. Then I’ll tell you what I found.”
Verity gathered her thoughts. Not an easy task, since she was cuddled snugly against a very handsome gentleman, drinking brandy and warming her toes at a lovely fire.
“It was another problem with the numbers of my overall report.” She stared into the flames. “So small, I probably would have put it down to clerical error or something. But the totals on the account were definitely incorrect. And given recent events...”
Lucas nodded. “Yes. That’s the kicker, isn’t it? We’d never have noticed any of this under ordinary circumstances. But because we both share an affinity for numbers...”
“We see it. Alastair sees it. Even Julian sees it, although I’m not sure he understands it.”
“We do. That’s all that matters.” His arms tightened around her. “You and I. We matter.”
She gazed at him, losing herself in those mysteriously dark eyes. “Yes, Lucas. We matter.”
The kiss was inevitable, and Verity slid into it eagerly, sighing as his lips touched hers, withdrew and touched again. Teasingly he aroused her, with lips and tongue, and then hands as he moved her onto his knee and began to unfasten her corset.
Her body tightened as the warm touch of his hands met bare skin, and she sucked in a breath as her corset fell away. “You are very talented,” she murmured, loving the way he pushed her chemise off her shoulders and stroked the skin beneath.
“Thank you,” he whispered back, baring her. “God, you’re beautiful.”
Verity arched her spine, pushing her breasts towards him. Her pulse pounded, and her body responded to the delicate brush of his fingers.
When he found her nipples, hard and aroused, he moaned as he slicked his tongue over them. “Delicious,” he muttered.
“Lucas...” She pulled his head away and leaned over, kissing him with enthusiasm.
“Damn it.” He stood, holding Verity in his arms.
“Lucas, you’ll hurt yourself.” She wriggled a little but found herself hampered by the fact that half her elegant ensemble was hanging off, and the other half of her was naked.
“Sssh,” he whispered, “just hold on.”
So she did, only letting go when he’d reached his room and tumbled the two of them onto his bed.
She laughed, watching him take his clothes off, his eyes glued to her face.
“I want you, Verity. I want all of you. Every single particle. And I want your brilliant ideas, your clever thoughts...” He paused, reaching for her skirts. “But I don’t want this. It’s in my way.”
He stripped her before she could catch her breath and paused for a moment. “If I could paint, I would paint you now, my darling. But even the most skilled artist would have a hard time capturing your skin, your hair, your body...”
“Lucas...”
“Yes?”
“Stop talking.”
*~~*~~*
This wasn’t her bed.
Verity slowly slithered into consciousness, fighting the urge to lie back down and snuggle against the warm body next to her.
Body. Next to her. In bed.
“Oh...”
Memories of their night together flooded back into her mind, and she sighed at the remembered pleasure. If she wasn’t careful, she could get used to this. Very used to this.
But this was Lucas Ashcombe—and he didn’t live in Arcvale. Sooner or later, he’d leave.
As that thought raced through her mind, she took a shuddering breath. Great coggles, how could she possibly let him go? He was everything she’d never realised she wanted. And needed.
As if he heard her thinking, Lucas opened his eyes, smiled sleepily and reached for her, pulling her against his warmth.
“Good morning, Lady Verity.”
She grinned. “Good morning, Sir Lucas.”
“We’re a bit formal for two people who are lying naked next to each other in bed.”
“I like it,” she decided. “I like waking up next to you.”
“You do?” One eyebrow quirked upwards.
“I do,” she answered. “You’re nice and warm.”
“So that’s the only appeal?”
“Hmm.” Her hands roamed as she explored his body. “There are other enticements too.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Lucas groaned a little as her hands touched sensitive places. “But, my sweet, we have things we must do today.”
“That’s a shame,” she sighed, laying her head on his stomach.
Rolling his eyes, and pulling on every bit of strength he had, Lucas slid from beneath her. “Remember where we were. We’ll pick it up again tonight.”
Verity sighed. “Promise?”
“By Saint Calibria.” He raised his hand and crossed his chest.
Flopping down on the pillow for a few moments, Verity groaned. Then her mind awoke and everything inside her tightened. “Lucas,” she said quietly. “I’m not sure about this. But is there any way you can trace the exact times some of these errors happened?”
He frowned, thinking. “Not all of them. But some...yes, some of them I could put a time to.”
“Can we do that, please?” She pulled a blanket around herself. “I had an unpleasant thought recently. And last night added to my concern. So, much as I’d like to spend all day here with you, I think we should focus on our problem first...”
“You’re right,” he sighed. “You take the bathroom, and I’ll go and roust Edgar into making some breakfast for us.”
She nodded. Then leaned over him, kissing him lightly. “Sorry. Helpless to resist.”
He laughed aloud as she whisked herself away.
The bathroom was incredible. Verity’s eyes widened as she took in the tub, large enough for a small family, and a smaller nook where he’d had a sort of shower arrangement installed.
Everything was spotless, there were soaps and towels, and she gave a little sigh of delight as she sniffed a bar of soap shaped like a shell, clearly never used.
She sniffed. And sniffed again. The fragrance was familiar...roses. Roses, she’d said, and gardenias, elegant, refined...Verity turned over the soap to find the manufacturer.
A pattern was falling into place in her head. She grabbed a towel and wrapped it around herself as she walked back into the bedroom where Lucas was shrugging into a thick robe.
“I think I have it...” She frowned, her mind playing with numbers, and adding other ingredients to the mix.
He stared at her. “You have it? You have what?”
“I think I know who is behind all this.” She focussed on him. “Can we see Alastair this morning?”
“Of course,” Lucas nodded. “But unfortunately, you’ll have to wear something other than that towel.”