Читать книгу Scandalous Deception - Rosemary Rogers - Страница 11

CHAPTER FOUR

EDMOND’S FEATURES TIGHTENED, his admiration for Brianna’s courage being replaced by a dark, seething anger.

Did the woman think he was sweet, tender-hearted Stefan who could be manipulated by every pathetic waif who crossed his path?

Or did she believe his unmistakable lust for her delectable body gave her power over him?

“I can only presume that is some sort of jest.” His voice was low and cutting as he stepped to loom over her in a threatening manner.

Her breath rasped loudly in the still air, but she refused to back away.

“Not in the least. All of London believes that the Duke of Huntley is currently residing in his town house. Why would he not invite his ward to come and stay with him?”

“Not even a ward can stay alone in the home of a bachelor. You would be ruined.”

“Not if you hire a companion,” she retorted stubbornly.

He gave a sharp bark of laughter. “So now I am not only to have my privacy invaded by a pesky, unwanted ward, but also a middle-aged dragon?” he taunted. “You truly have lost your wits if you think I would consider such a ridiculous notion for even a moment.”

She hissed in frustration. “You would rather allow me to be hauled off by my stepfather and raped?”

Edmond ignored the tide of black contempt. Thomas Wade would soon be no more than a forgotten corpse. For now, Edmond was much more concerned with this aggravating minx standing before him.

“I assure you that the matter will be dealt with.”

“Forgive me if I do not entirely trust such an ambiguous promise,” she retorted, her expression bitter.

“It will have to do.”

She remained silent for a brief moment, as if waging some inward struggle. Then, drawing in a deep breath, she met his glittering gaze squarely.

“No, it will not have to do.” Her voice wavered before she gathered her nerve and continued. “You seem to forget that I have a means of compelling you to take me into the town house.”

Edmond stilled, his predatory nature coiled and prepared to strike as he sensed danger. Reaching out, he grasped her shoulders, hauling her close enough that he was wrapped in warm lavender.

“Take care, Brianna, I do not respond well to blackmail.”

She swallowed heavily, but she was wise enough not to struggle against his biting grip.

“You have left me no choice,” she gritted. “Either you agree to take me in as your ward, or I will return to the ballroom and inform one and all that you are not Stefan.”

Edmond had been a powerful force in politics for the past eight years. He had intimidated, seduced, and at times deceived others into obeying his will.

Now this little wisp of a girl thought to bully him?

His fingers tightened. “You are a fool to threaten me, ma souris.”

“Not a fool, only desperate. I will not remain another night under the roof of my stepfather.”

With a jerk, he had her pressed against the door, his body leaning heavily into her slender form with an unmistakable warning.

“You believe you are any safer under my roof?” His voice deepened as that growingly familiar heat flowed through his blood. Brianna Quinn might be a stubborn, unruly wench, but she stirred his passions to a fever pitch. To have her sleeping just a few doors away would bring a certain end to her innocence. “I am not the oh-so-honorable Stefan. I do not rescue damsels in distress without expecting some sort of reward.”

She trembled, but not with fear. She might be a virgin, but she was vibrantly aware of the sizzling heat that pulsed between them.

“You do not have to remind me that you have always been a cad and a scoundrel.”

He arched a raven brow. “Well, then?”

“I do not gain control of my inheritance until my birthday in the spring, but I do have several jewels…”

His husky laugh filled the shadowed room. “I have no need for your money or jewels.”

She frowned in confusion, revealing just how innocent she truly was. “Then what sort of reward do you demand?”

Edmond deliberately allowed his heated gaze to run over her ivory features before lowering to rest on the slight swell of her breasts.

“Obviously, you have nothing to barter but your feminine charms.”

She attempted an expression of outrage, but Edmond did not miss the darkening of her magnificent eyes. She would never admit it, but she was not entirely averse to the thought of having those charms tasted. Perhaps even devoured.

“You are no better than Thomas,” she accused in a shaky voice.

Edmond smiled with cold intent, abruptly stepping back and tugging her from the door. He had wasted enough time. He was here to discover a murderer, not to seduce his brother’s ward. Stefan was far better suited to deal with such a mess.

He still intended to kill Thomas Wade. That was a given. But tonight, his priority was Howard Summerville.

“Then I suggest that you remain with your stepfather, where you belong, or find some other accommodations,” he informed her, releasing his hold so he could pull open the door.

“Damn you,” she hissed.

Edmond paused to cast a mocking glance over his shoulder. “You are too late, ma souris. I was damned years ago.”

IT WAS JUST PAST THREE in the morning when Brianna and her maid slipped through the back gate of the Huntley town house and made their way to the kitchen door.

Although only a few blocks away from her stepfather’s home, the two establishments could not be compared.

The entire area had once belonged to Westminster Abbey and had been taken into possession by Henry VIII. Later it was developed by the Curzon family, who named the neighborhood Mayfair after the annual fair that had once been held in the open fields.

Unlike many of the grand homes, Huntley House had been built by James Stuart, who preferred a plain exterior of pale stone and wrought-iron fencing to the more elaborate style of Robert Adam. The elegant interior, however, was a lavish display of wealth.

As a child, Brianna could recall entering the home and marveling at the split staircase that led to a formal landing that boasted heavy marble pillars and Grecian statues. A perfect setting for the Duke and Duchess to greet their guests in a truly regal fashion.

The jewel of the house, of course, was the neo-classical drawing room with its series of tall windows that extended the length of the house and overlooked Hyde Park. It was a room that had been near overwhelming for young Brianna, who had been terrified of destroying some priceless work of art.

And now here she was, about to enter the house as a thief.

More unnerved by the realization than she cared to admit, Brianna set down the heavy bags she had carried from her home, and watched as her maid bent over the door knob to study the lock in the faint moonlight.

The two women were currently hidden in the shadowed alcove of the servants’ entrance, having slipped through the mews to the back of the grand town house. Behind them, the silence of the sunken rose garden offered the sense of being isolated from the hustle and bustle of London, but Brianna was no fool. Huntley House employed over a dozen servants, any one of which could make an untimely arrival.

“Can you do it, Janet?” she whispered.

Janet straightened, her round face somber. “Aye, it be a simple enough lock.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

“Are ye certain this is a wise notion, Miss Quinn?” the maid demanded, her words abrupt. “The way ye speak of the gent makes me fear that ye are leaping from the frying pan right into the fire.”

Brianna suppressed her instinctive shudder.

When Edmond had abandoned her in that bedchamber at the masked ball, she had been momentarily paralyzed with fear, knowing she had no one left to turn to.

It had seemed very much like she was doomed.

And then, gathering her shattered courage, Brianna had squared her shoulders and made perhaps the most dangerous decision of her life.

Edmond might not desire to help her, but it was no less than his duty. He was pretending to be Stefan, so he could bloody well take on Stefan’s responsibilities, including his obligation to save her from Thomas Wade.

Her mind settled, Brianna had silently slipped back into her house and awakened Janet, who was sleeping in a chair beside Brianna’s empty bed. The maid had not been pleased with the daring notion, but grumbling beneath her breath, she had at last assisted Brianna in shoving what clothing she could fit in her valises.

In less than an hour, Brianna and Janet had been sneaking through the dark streets, avoiding the traffic as the nobles returned home after their night of revelry. There had been a brief stop in the stables to ensure that Edmond had not yet returned before they slipped through the back gate and followed the flagstone path past elegant statues and lavish fountains to the mansion.

If Edmond would not help her willingly, then he would do so unwillingly.

“Edmond is no prize, but he is certainly preferable to Thomas Wade,” she muttered.

“But if this man has promised to contact the Duke, then…”

“I cannot take the risk of waiting,” Brianna interrupted. “If Thomas should even suspect that I am attempting to flee, he will have me hauled off to Norfolk before I could do a thing to stop him.”

Janet heaved a heavy sigh. “I suppose that is true enough.”

“I will sell my soul to the devil before I allow that to happen.”

“Mayhap that is what yer about to do,” Janet muttered, removing a thin strip of metal from her pocket before efficiently setting about tripping the lock.

The maid rarely spoke about her childhood, but Brianna knew Janet had been the child of one of London’s most notorious thieves. And that, until she had fled the underworld, she had learned many tricks of the trade. Such talents had come in handy more than once.

There was a faint click and then the tumble of the locks before the door swung open. Brianna heaved out a deep breath of relief. She knew that Edmond would be returning at any moment, and she had to be firmly settled into the house before he arrived.

Lifting her heavy baggage, Brianna brushed past her maid and entered the kitchen. If anyone was to be shot as a housebreaker, it was only fair that she take the bullet.

Thankfully, there was no sound of gunfire as she stepped over the threshold and glanced about the long room.

There was nothing more threatening than the bundles of herbs hanging from the open-beamed ceiling, a stack of gleaming copper pots and the flicker of dying embers from the massive stone fireplace.

With a gesture toward Janet, Brianna silently crossed the stone floor, keeping her gaze trained on the distant door that led to the private servants’ quarters. She skirted the long wooden tables, her stomach rumbling at the scent of freshly baked bread and raspberry pastries that had been left to cool. It was tempting to linger a moment and indulge her sweet tooth with one of the delicate tarts, but with a stern effort, she continued onward, ducking through the arched doorway that led to the back staircase.

If she did not find herself in the gutter in the morning, she could enjoy all the tarts she desired. For the moment, only sheer luck would allow them to reach the guest chambers before being caught.

Darkness shrouded the narrow flight of steps, and Brianna cursed softly as she was forced to slow to a snail’s pace. Whatever her panicked sense of urgency, she would not risk breaking her neck by charging up the uneven wooden stairs.

Placing her hand on the stone wall, she struggled upward, concentrating on each step. By the time she reached the third floor, her breath was rasping loudly in the silence and her back was aching from the unaccustomed strain of carrying her heavy bags. She paused long enough to fumble with the door, her heart lodging in her throat as the hinges squeaked in protest.

To her fevered imagination, the sound seemed to carry throughout London.

Had she alerted the entire house to her presence?

With Janet pressed nervously against her back, Brianna forced herself to count to ten. When there was no rush of servants, no cries of alarm, she allowed herself to suck in a deep breath of relief and step from the stairwell.

The wide corridor was bathed in the soft glow of candlelight from the nearby candelabra, revealing the vaulted ceiling and fine plasterwork that had been painted a pale ivory. The Persian carpet shimmered with vivid reds and blues and gold, reflected in the framed pier mirrors that lined the walls.

She was attempting to recall which of the numerous doors led to the guest chambers when a hulking shadow detached itself from the wall to reveal a large man with a hawkish face and fierce pair of blue eyes. Brianna froze in shock. Although the man was attired in the Huntley livery, she did not believe for a moment that he was any simple servant. He looked like a soldier.

Or an assassin.

“What is this?” he growled, his thick accent unmistakably Russian. “What do you think to do?”

This had to be the oaf that Janet had confronted earlier, and with that accent most certainly one of Edmond’s men.

Damnation. There was nothing to do but brave it out.

“Allow me to introduce myself.” Once again dropping the bags, Brianna performed an elegant curtsey. “I am Miss Quinn, the Duke of Huntley’s ward. I will be staying here for a few days, as will my maid.”

Brows that matched the man’s thick golden hair drew together in wary disbelief. “I have been told nothing of a ward. You will leave now.”

Brianna tilted her chin to a haughty angle. She may not have royal blood running through her veins, but her father was first cousin to an Earl and she could feign a conceited self-worth when necessary. And sometimes even when it was not necessary.

“I most certainly will not be leaving. This is my home now.”

“You will leave, or I will toss you out.”

“You would dare to lay a hand on the Duke’s legal ward?” she said, her voice pure ice.

“I was told to keep everyone out.” The man began to walk toward her. “That is what I will do.”

Brianna was quite convinced that the man intended to toss her out. Even if it meant hauling her to the curb screaming and kicking. It was clearly time to reveal her one and only weapon.

“Before you take another step, I must warn you that I have given a note to a friend with instructions that, unless she hears from me first thing in the morning, it is to be posted to the London Times,” she said, her voice echoing through the wide corridor with as much courage as she could muster.

At least the menacing servant came to a halt, his pale eyes glittering with the wariness of a seasoned warrior. He clearly sensed that she was not bluffing.

“What do I care of this note?”

She felt Janet move to stand at her side, as if the maid was preparing to protect her from the man—a brave, if rather foolish, display of loyalty.

“The note will inform all of London that it is not the Duke of Huntley who is staying in this town house, but rather his younger twin, Lord Edmond,” she said, a smile curving her lips as the man gave a revealing jerk of surprise. “I doubt your master would appreciate such information becoming the source of tomorrow morning’s fodder.”

“How did you…”

Not about to lose the brief advantage she held, Brianna grabbed her valises and headed for the nearest bedchamber.

“Come along, Janet. We will have to wait until morning to speak with Edmond.”

Stepping into the shadowed room, Brianna firmly shut the door in the face of the servant, dropped her bags and fumbled to turn the heavy key in the lock.

“Ye are going to get us strangled in our sleep,” Janet muttered in the dark.

“Nonsense.” Holding out a hand to keep from banging into the furniture, Brianna searched for the mantle where there would surely be a flint to light the candles. “Edmond might be a coldhearted cad, but Stefan would never forgive him if he murdered me.”

Janet heaved a deep sigh. “I would sleep a mite easier if you dinna sound as if ye were trying to convince yerself and not me.”

EDMOND LEANED AGAINST the doorjamb and silently studied the female curled in the middle of the vast, canopied bed.

His breath caught at the sight of the morning sunlight shimmering in the lush hair spread across the pillows and warming the delicate ivory features. He’d expected the vision he had carried in his head from the previous night to be tarnished in the harsh light of day. No woman could possibly be as exquisite as he had imagined.

But he was mistaken.

Christ, she was even lovelier.

He battled against the primal urge to pluck her tiny body from beneath the covers and carry her to his bed where she belonged. What the devil was the matter with him? Brianna Quinn might be a beauty, but he was not about to forgive her blatant intrusion into his home.

When he had returned home last eve after futile hours of trying to locate Howard Summerville, he had been stunned to discover from Boris that two females had locked themselves in one of the guest chambers and that one of them had threatened to send a note to the London Times naming him as Edmond.

His first thought had been to break down the door and toss Brianna into the nearest gutter. The devilish chit was a distraction he did not need. Unfortunately, while he did not believe her bluff for a moment, he could not be entirely certain that she would not scream bloody murder and waken all of London if he dared to haul her from the house.

Brianna Quinn had been clever enough to outwit him for the moment, but that did not mean she held all the cards.

He had every intention of ensuring she paid, and paid dearly, for daring to cross him.

Straightening from the jamb, Edmond stepped into the room decorated in a delicate French style with amber wall panels and Savonneirie tapestries framed above the carved chimneypiece. The furniture was made of lemonwood and covered with pretty English chintz that his grandmother had considered de rigueur for a London town house.

Closing the door and turning the key he had retrieved from his housekeeper, Edmond approached the bed. Barefoot and wearing nothing more than a dressing robe, he made no sound as he crossed the Persian carpet.

He paused just a moment to savor the delicate lines of her face. The straight line of her nose, the lush curve of her lips, the thick fan of lashes that lay against the pale ivory skin.

A sleeping Aphrodite.

His hand reached out of his own accord to stroke the sleep-flushed cheek, only to pull back as if he were burned. He was here to rid himself of the pestilent woman, not entangle himself even deeper into her fascinating web.

With a sharp motion, he reached to grasp the quilt and jerked it aside to reveal her tiny form covered only by a thin chemise.

Brianna’s eyes flew open as she squeaked in alarm, an alarm that only deepened as her wide gaze caught sight of Edmond hovering over her.

“Edmond.”

He curved his lips in a cold smile. “Well, well, I see that Boris was not mistaken. My home was infested by little mice during the night.”

She reached down to tug at the cover, muttering in frustration when he refused to release his hold.

“For God’s sake, are you trying to give me heart failure?”

“Heart failure is the least of your worries,” he drawled, not bothering to resist temptation as he slid into the silken sheets behind her reclined form and gathered her trembling body to spoon intimately against his. “I did warn you what would happen if you stayed beneath my roof.”

She stiffened in shock as his hands touched her, exploring the slender curves with the confident assurance of a well-seasoned seducer.

“What are you doing?” she gasped.

His head lowered to stroke his lips over the bare skin of her shoulder, brushing aside the narrow ribbon holding up her chemise to taste of her lavender-scented skin.

“Claiming my reward,” he murmured, nipping the curve of her neck before soothing it with his lips.

“Stop this. Edmond…” She caught her breath as his hands found the proud curve of her breasts, strumming his thumbs over the sensitive tips. “Dear lord.”

“Do you like that, ma souris?” he whispered next to her ear, allowing his tongue to trace the delicate shell.

“No, you cannot,” she groaned, her hands lifting to cover his own, although they made no effort to halt the soft caresses.

“Perhaps you prefer this.” He teased the tender nipples until they hardened to tight little buds, his cock growing thick with need as she moaned in pleasure. “Yes, sing that sweet song for me.”

Kissing a path down the curve of her neck, Edmond breathed deeply of her intoxicating scent, one hand slipping down to press flat against her stomach, urging her backside more firmly against his aching erection.

He had started this to frighten the minx into fleeing his home, to prove to her that he would not be cajoled or threatened or manipulated into taking her in. His purpose in joining her on the bed, however, was swiftly being forgotten beneath the searing flood of hunger that pulsed through his body.

He would be driven mad if he did not have her soon.

Still caressing her breast with one hand, Edmond allowed the other to slip over her stomach and down to the delectable heat between her legs. He hissed in pleasure as he felt the dampness through the thin material of her chemise.

She wanted him. Her body could not lie.

Debating whether to simply lift her leg over his hip and enter her from behind or to lay her on her back so he could watch her face as she received him into her body, Edmond was caught off guard as she suddenly began to struggle against his hold.

“No.” Squirming with determination, she managed to turn to face him, although he refused to allow her to break free. The green eyes smoldered with a combination of anger and terrified desire. “Damn you, Edmond. All I ask for is your protection until Stefan can become my legal guardian. Is that too great a burden to you?”

He growled in frustration. “You have no notion whatsoever.”

“I promise not to be any bother. You will not even know I am here…”

“Mon dieu,” he rasped. “You cannot be that innocent.”

Her brows drew together in annoyance. “What do you mean?”

“This.”

Without a shred of modesty, Edmond grasped her hand and tugged it beneath his dressing robe. Brianna made a sound of shock as he wrapped her fingers around the hard thrust of his erection.

“Dear God,” she breathed, her gaze trapped by the searing heat in his eyes.

“This is what you do to me simply by being near,” he growled. “If you remain here, I will have you.”

“You do not even like me,” she protested, her voice oddly breathless.

His hand remained wrapped around hers, but it was Brianna who began to stroke slowly downward, as if curious in spite of herself at the feel of his throbbing erection. She reached his heavy sack before she moved back to the tip, her thumb brushing the bead of moisture that had gathered. Edmond moaned at the exquisite sensations that exploded through his body. He had nothing more than her fingers on him, but she offered more pleasure than any number of women who had devoted hours to bringing him to climax.

“You are a desirable woman and I am a man who possesses a fine appreciation for such beauty,” he managed to mutter, his voice raw as the pressure began to build with a stunning swiftness. “Christ…yes. That feels so good.” He shifted, then scattered kisses over her startled face. “Squeeze harder.”

She shivered beneath his soft kisses, her breath rasping loudly in the air.

“Edmond, I do not think…”

“Precisely.”

“What?”

“Do not think.”

Smothering her lips in a demanding kiss, Edmond closed his eyes and allowed himself to savor the bliss of her slender fingers tightening around his cock as his hips pumped forward. He had known the moment he had gazed into those magnificent green eyes that it would be like this. A searing, mind-shattering desire that stripped a man of his thin veneer of civilization.

The next time he experienced this, he intended to be buried deep inside her as she screamed her own release.

Edmond plunged his tongue into the wet heat of her mouth as his hands toyed with her straining breasts, tasting her heady sweetness as his muscles clenched with a sharp, sudden pinnacle of delight.

“Brianna.”

With a wrenching groan, he turned onto his stomach to release his seed into the sheets.