Desire

Chapter Nineteen

Lucian stared down at his wineglass as he waited for his beautiful wife to return, wondering if his worst fear would be realized. Was Brynn in league with her brother? Was she a thief and a traitor? He had little doubt she’d permitted his seal ring to be used by Sir Grayson, thus abetting Caliban and his cohorts in illicitly making off with the gold shipment. Was she also aiding her brother in smuggling the stolen gold to France?

Bleakness washed over Lucian at the likelihood of her betrayal. Bleakness and fury. He was infuriated at Brynn because of the choice she was forcing him to make. He’d always considered himself an honorable man, but honor didn’t seem particularly important when weighed against the possibility of losing her to prison-or worse, to the gibbet.

He couldn’t allow that to happen. He couldn’t allow Brynn to be imprisoned, especially not when she was carrying his child.

Lucian clenched his teeth. It enraged him to think that she would risk their son or daughter’s future by engaging in treason. It enraged him even more that Brynn would destroy the promise of happiness they had found together.

He had wanted to cherish her, damn her. He’d wanted to love her, to build a future with her, beget a family. He had made mistakes with Brynn, he freely admitted. He’d wed her with no regard for her wishes, seeking to end the emptiness in his life, demanding that she give him a son to fill the gaping hole inside him. But he’d believed-hoped-they had moved past his mistakes.

Brynn herself had filled that dark void within him, Lucian acknowledged. For a few short weeks he had found bliss in her arms. Now, however, all he could feel was an emptiness inside him as vast as all eternity. And a rage that ate at him like poison.

Lucian raked a hand through his dark hair, fully aware of his own madness. He was a goddamned fool to have hoped for more from Brynn. He had blindly fallen for an alluring temptress, a radiant beauty with flaming tresses and an enchanting spirit. He was obsessed with her. She would haunt him till he drew his last breath. But he was done hoping.

Even so, he had to try to protect her. His men had Caldwell House surrounded. If her brother left, for an assignation, Philip Barton had orders to follow at a distance on the possibility that Sir Grayson would lead them to the gold.

Lucian himself would take responsibility for keeping Brynn occupied. He wouldn’t allow her to endanger his unborn child. Much like probing a wound, however, on some dark, desperate, gut-deep level he needed to know how far she would go.

If she was engaged in treason, he had to see the evidence with his own eyes. He intended to let Brynn take the lead tonight-to figuratively give her enough rope to hang herself.

And if she was guilty? Then he would have to deal with her and the shattering aftermath. He would have to save her, no matter what it took. Even if it meant sacrificing his honor.

Lucian squeezed his eyes shut as a savage ache clenched his chest. The gash in his heart was not a mortal wound, but near enough. He could only hope that someday the searing pain would be a little duller. But somehow he doubted it ever would be.

Since her dinner gown had no pockets, Brynn slid the vial of sleeping drops between her breasts, where it rested cold and heavy against her flesh. Then, with grave reluctance, she returned to the dining room.

Lucian was lounging at the table but looked up when she entered. It required every ounce of acting skill she possessed to force a smile and pretend she wasn’t about to betray him.

When he held out his hand, she went to him and let him draw her down onto his lap to hold her loosely.

“I am sorry Grayson had to leave,” she said, keeping her tone carefully neutral.

“I’m not. I am glad to have the evening to ourselves.” The words were warm, and yet his expression remained emotionally cool, Brynn realized.

“Do you want to repair to the drawing room?” she asked.

“I can think of a far more pleasurable way to occupy our time.”

He bent forward and pressed a light kiss on her collarbone, a suggestive act that told her very clearly what he had in mind. Brynn shut her eyes, deeply affected by even this casual contact. But then Lucian’s every touch had always tormented her with desire.

When his lips moved lower, however, over the swell of her breast, she tensed. She couldn’t allow him to undress her here, not when he would discover the vial on her person. Resting her palms on his shoulders, she gently pushed him away. “Not here, Lucian. The servants…”

“Then where?”

She would have to find a way to administer the draught, she knew. Brynn glanced at his wineglass that was nearly empty. “Will you come to my room?”

“I thought you would never ask.” His hands gliding to her waist, he set her on her feet. “Go ahead, love. I will join you shortly.”

Grateful that he’d accepted her invitation so easily, Brynn detoured through the kitchens to fetch more wine. Her brother’s new chef was delighted to tap a new keg and supply her with a full crystal decanter and two goblets.

When she reached her bedchamber, Brynn carefully shut the door behind her and set her tray down on a side table. Then, retrieving the vial from her bosom, she hesitated a long moment, her emotions in turmoil: despair, regret, heartache, fear for Lucian, all churning inside her.

Taking a deep breath, Brynn opened the vial. She had no idea how much to use, but the dose needed to be strong enough to make Lucian sleep for at least a few hours. Murmuring an anguished prayer, she added six drops to one goblet.

It was only when she began to undress that she realized she hadn’t packed a wrapper. Feeling chilled, Brynn donned her gown again, shivering as the silk pressed coolly against her nude body.

Then she sat waiting. She wished Lucian would come, for anxiety and uncertainty were slowly shredding her nerves. She could hear the faint crackle of the dying fire, along with the painful pounding of her heart.

It was utterly wrong to betray Lucian this way, Brynn knew, and yet she had no choice. She harbored a terrible dread about tonight. His life was in danger, she felt it in every bone in her body. If he tried to apprehend the traitors, he would be killed, it was as simple and precarious as that.

She was desperate to save Lucian, even if it meant seducing him and drugging his wine to prevent him from carrying out his duty. Once he was safely asleep, she would somehow have to try to stop Gray herself, though how she would manage that feat she had no idea. She sat wracking her brain for the next several moments, a suffocating tightness in her chest, feeling trapped between the ties of blood and the ties of love.

When the door finally opened, Brynn gave a start and rose to her feet. Lucian was still dressed for evening, she realized as he entered, although he had removed his jacket and cravat. His shirt hung open, exposing a smooth expanse of chest.

Her breath caught in her throat at the picture he made. He was still one of the most sinfully beautiful men she had ever met, with his lean elegance and muscular grace. When the door shut, he leaned indolently against it, his expression enigmatic as he met her gaze.

Brynn swallowed hard, trying to summon the courage for her performance. Slipping the bodice off her shoulders then, she let her gown fall to the floor in a whisper of silk, leaving her completely nude to his view.

She heard Lucian draw a sharp breath, yet his smile seemed forced as his bold gaze roamed over her. “Is this a seduction, my love?”

She tried to make her own smile provocative. “Merely a welcome. I am glad you have come.”

For a long moment she met his sapphire eyes, but he made no move to join her. Time stretched between them like a taut wire. At length, however, the soft snap of the fire in the hearth broke the spell.

Determined to appear nonchalant, Brynn shrugged her shoulders and went to the mahogany side table, where the tray bearing the crystal wine decanter and goblets rested. When she had poured two glasses, she crossed the bedchamber to Lucian and offered him the drugged one.

For another endless moment, he stared at the bloodred wine. She could feel her heart pounding as she waited for him to drink. Why did he hesitate?

Relief flooded her when he took a sip, and Brynn silently cursed herself. She had to strive for composure or her agitation would give her away. Unlike Lucian, she was an amateur at intrigue. He had matched wits against countless traitors and would certainly grow suspicious if she couldn’t behave naturally, as if she wanted to make love to him.

As it was, he regarded her with evident gravity, and there was a fine tension in his lean, muscled body-or was the tension merely in her because of what she was about to do?

When Lucian continued to watch her, Brynn averted her gaze, unable to meet his eyes any longer. She loathed herself for her betrayal.

“Is the wine to your taste?” Brynn made herself say, forcing herself to sip from her own glass.

“Yes. But then the French do make the finest wines.”

She glanced up sharply, not knowing why he had mentioned the French. Did he suspect her perfidy? Brynn wondered. Or was he referring to her brother’s smuggling? Lucian’s eyes glittered with sexual interest yet hid every other emotion brilliantly.

She shivered.

“Are you cold?” he queried.

“I hoped you would warm me.”

She saw his gaze darken responsively at her provocative reply, and for the first time in her life Brynn was glad for the curse that made her irresistible to men. She would need every advantage she possessed if she intended to use Lucian’s lust for her own purposes, for despite his obvious sexual attraction for her, he didn’t seem in an amorous mood.

“Why don’t you stir the fire,” he said, “while I close the draperies?”

Nodding, Brynn crossed to the hearth while Lucian turned and went to one of the windows. She knelt there, feeling the heat from the glowing flames on her bare skin, wishing it could warm the frigid ache in her heart as well.

Glancing over her shoulder, she watched from across the room as Lucian closed the drapery and moved to the final window, where he stood looking out and drinking from his glass. Brynn hesitated, wondering exactly how she should distract him until he succumbed to the drug.

Steeling herself, she rose and went to join Lucian, coming up behind him. Outside the window, a chill sliver of moon hung low on the black horizon, partly obscured by ghostly, scudding clouds. A blustery wind blew off the sea; she could hear waves beating against the rocky shore below.

A good night for treason.

Inside, however, the bedchamber was warm and hushed.

“Are you still angry with me?” she murmured in an effort to capture Lucian’s attention.

He snapped the drapes shut and turned to face her. Involuntarily her gaze went to his glass that was now only one-third full. Her relief was profound, yet she still had a role to play; she couldn’t stop until Lucian was sleeping soundly.

She pasted an enticing smile on her face. Her finger dipped into his wine, then rose to glide along his lower lip. “How can I assuage your anger, Lucian?”

“I think you know, love.”

Her focus dropped below his waist. The stockinet fabric of his evening breeches clung to his powerful thighs, stretched taut over his erection. An immediate, quivering response rippled through Brynn, along with a momentary spark of elation. He might still be angry with her, but he wanted her.

Determined to arouse him further, she slowly, provocatively slid her fingers into the waistband of his breeches. When he gave no response, Brynn relieved him of his wineglass and set it down along with her own. Then she began to undo the buttons of the front placket.

Her heart was thudding in her chest when she opened his drawers to expose the stiff erection that stirred so eagerly between his thighs. With a tempting smile, she closed her caressing fingers around the base of his pulsing arousal and sank down to kneel at his feet.

His jaw was set rigidly, Brynn saw when she glanced up at Lucian. He was still fighting her, and yet he was blatantly aroused, the rigid rod thrusting high, the rampant head gleaming in the lamplight.

Wanton heat coiled through her body to throb inside her, contrasting strangely with the ache in her heart.

Letting her fingers stroke him, Brynn leaned closer to press her lips along his shaft, tasting the marble-smooth skin. Lucian jerked when she kissed him there, and a flaring excitement ignited inside her at the familiar, erotic feel of him.

She attended him lingeringly. His skin felt hot, searing, as she softly ran her tongue around the swollen head… the sensitive ridge below… Then her lips closed around his shaft to take him more fully in her mouth.

She felt Lucian tense with pleasure as she suckled him. He was obviously fighting for control now.

His now-rigid erection thickened still more as she explored him further with her mouth and tongue, tasting the slick, velvet contours, making love to the most intimate part of him. Lucian had been the one to teach her this-how to use her carnal skills to such devastating effect. He had shown her pleasures of the flesh, led her to embrace her woman’s passion…

She felt him shudder, but she continued deliberately to arouse him, her teeth softly raking. She knew a moment of triumph when he groaned at her ministrations.

“Am I paining you?” she murmured tauntingly against his flesh.

“Yes,” he said, his own voice hoarse. “Dire pain.”

“Should I stop?”

“No, siren…”

When her lips slid down his shaft again, his hands curled in her hair and he strained against her mouth, his breathing harsh and ragged. His desire for her had always been fierce, and she used it mercilessly against him now.

She heard her name hoarsely whispered, felt him shaking. When he clutched at her shoulders, Brynn shuddered with pleasure herself. She was nearly as aroused as Lucian, her body pulsing, her feminine hollows wet with desire, yearning to merge with his hard male flesh. She had intended to seduce him, but she was caught up in her own game. When she glanced up at him, she knew his passion-hazed eyes mirrored her own.

“Lucian,” she breathed, shredding the last of his control.

Urgently he drew her to her feet and lifted her up. His lips came down upon hers with hot, wet heat, his mouth feverishly capturing hers as she wrapped her legs around his hips.

Carrying her to the bed, he lowered her to the silk sheets and followed her down, pressing himself between her welcoming thighs. For a space of several heartbeats, then, he hesitated, holding Brynn’s rapt gaze.

His face was so incredibly beautiful in the flickering candlelight, his features taut with desire and what strangely looked like pain. When he curved his hand to her throat, Brynn stirred restlessly beneath him, wondering why he delayed.

“Please… I want you, Lucian,” she whispered hoarsely.

He obliged her, sliding the engorged crest of his erection into her pulsing cleft slick with the liquid evidence of her own need.

She was wet and eager for him. Hungrily she wrapped her legs around his, clutching him to her as he thrust into her, driving his powerful member deep within her hot, throbbing flesh. Her arms tightened around him, and she opened to him fully, desperate to take him deep, to fill herself with his essence, even as she battled her heart.

The blaze between them erupted into a firestorm, violent, fierce, raging. Lucian shuddered again and groaned, his body contracting savagely as he spilled his seed deep within her body. His explosion shattered Brynn. She arched helplessly beneath him, convulsing wildly as wave after wave of ecstasy hit her, cries of bliss tearing from her throat, tears of anguish dredged from her eyes.

She was weeping, Brynn realized when her brutal climax at last subsided. Shaking with love and pain that mingled into a tangled, razor-edged knot inside her.

In the turbulent aftermath, they lay together, gasping for breath. Their lovemaking had never been so potent, so powerful… so agonized.

His lips pressed against her hair then, and Brynn felt her heart break. When Lucian eased his weight to one side, her arms tightened around him almost desperately while she buried her face against his shoulder, trying to stifle her tears. Dear God, how she loved him. It was a torment, knowing her love might lead to his death.

She lay there a long while, struggling with remorse, with regrets. If only she didn’t have to betray him. If she could have kept her heart detached. If she had never wed him in the first place…

When eventually Lucian’s breathing grew even, Brynn drew back so that she could see his face. His eyes were closed, as if he were in a drugged stupor.

“Lucian?” she whispered.

She waited several more long moments before finally untangling her limbs from his and easing away. Lucian lay there, unmoving, as if dead to the world. But at least he wasn’t dead. She couldn’t bear to lose him to death.

Wiping the tears from her face, Brynn dragged in a deep, steadying breath and forced herself to leave the bed. She couldn’t think about Lucian any further now. Nor did she dare tarry. She had to try to stop her brother from committing treason, to try to foil the real traitors.

Her plan was desperate, but it might just work. Grayson had told her the gold was hidden in the caves below the house, that the smugglers planned to retrieve their contraband tonight. She doubted they could act without Grayson’s presence, though, or even be able to find the strongboxes without his direction, for surely he would have concealed them well.

If she could just keep Gray away until after high tide, then the gold would be safe tonight. She could reveal its location to the local authorities on the morrow, without implicating her brother. Then Lucian could recover the strongboxes without risking his life, and Gray could escape his vicious blackmailers-

He and Theo would have to go into hiding, of course, and she would go with them. She and Gray could leave tonight. They would collect Theo from school and flee somewhere safe…

Please, please, merciful God, let her plan work. And help her make Gray see reason. She would have to use dire means to convince him, she had little doubt.

She dressed quickly in her usual smuggler’s attire- an old pair of breeches and boots and a warm woolen jacket. Then she caught up her vivid hair and stuffed it under a seaman’s cap. Finally, with one last, lingering look at her slumbering husband, Brynn put out all the lamps but one. Carrying it with her to light her way, she slipped from the room.

She went directly downstairs to her brother’s study and the cabinet where Gray kept his finer weapons. Setting down her lamp, she withdrew a small wooden case from the cabinet and opened it, expecting to find a matched pair of double-shot pistols.

The case was empty, Brynn saw with alarm, realizing Gray must have taken the weapons. But there was an older pistol toward the rear of the cabinet. With shaking hands, she spent a few precious minutes priming and loading the gun; Grayson himself had taught her how so that she might defend herself against her over amorous suitors if need be.

She had just stuffed the pistol in her belt and shut the cabinet when a beloved voice spoke behind her freezing the blood in her veins.

“Would you care to explain why you left our warm bed and dressed yourself up as a Free Trader, love?”