A Duke's Wicked Kiss (Entangled Select) (37 page)

“Shahira is a cheetah. One never makes a pet of a leopard. Nonetheless, take heed, and I’ll see to her on the morrow.” He wondered what else was being said below stairs. There was definitely something inauspicious in the air. Even Jenkins looked as though he harbored secrets. Well, there was all the time in the world to get to the nature of the peculiarities he sensed. He had other things on his mind.

“See to moving my things into the duke’s chambers in the morning,” he said when Jenkins finished shaving him.

He could have sworn the man paused a fraction too long. “Anything wrong?”

Slapping the razor back on the stand and the shaving brush into the mug, Jenkins shook his head. “I’ll see to it first thing.”

John made his way to the tub and climbed in. “I’ll take things from here. Good night, Jenkins.”

“Good night, sir.”

Quickly, John scrubbed himself clean, exited the tub, and toweled himself down. He padded over to the wardrobe and donned a blue velvet dressing gown and a pair of slippers.
To hell with anything else.
He left his chambers and headed toward where Suri slept, the thick carpet swallowing his footsteps.

He’d see to a special license in the morning. In a day, maybe two, depending on how quickly the wheels turned, he’d move her into the duke’s chambers. As his wife. She could keep the connecting duchess’s chambers for her private use—or whenever she was angry with him. He swallowed a chuckle. They’d have words—most couples did from time to time—and he’d already figured out her stubborn streak matched his. Even that thought felt good and right.

Easing into her chamber, he paused to draw a few steadying breaths. The storm had abated and the moon peeked through breaking clouds, splashing a swath of pale light across her sleeping form. There she was, curled on her side away from him, the covers bunched around her shoulders. The heat pumping through his veins set his body along its own stupid course of arousal, one he chose to ignore.

She sleeps with the draperies open?
Did she savor curling up in bed to watch storms as did he? How much they still had to learn of each other. Well, there was plenty of time for that once they were wed. They could spend the rest of their lives discovering one another. At the bed, he peered down. Of its own volition, his body stiffened again. The urge to slip in beside her and slide right into her tight sheath kicked him in the gut so hard he winced.

No, he had to wait. He needed to sit awhile, tamp down his heathen impulses while he figured out how to let her know he was here and alive. But, oh, he ached to touch her, to lay his lips against the soft skin of her throat. And hold her. Just hold her and know that they were together once more and the terrible nightmare had come to an end.

He turned to remove himself to a chair. The banked fire caught his eye. What the devil was atop the mantel? Couldn’t possibly be…could it? He stepped closer and reached out to touch Shahira’s collar and chain.

I’ll be damned!

Moonlight flickered off a circle of gold resting in the middle of the collar.
My signet ring. So, Edward refused even this?
Lifting it from the mantel, he slid it onto his fourth digit.

He padded across the carpet to a chair where he sat. He was no longer sleepy. Merely weary from all he’d been through these past months. God, but he ached to crawl in beside her.

…

The faint scent of Pears soap laced with bergamot rolled through Suri’s senses, drawing her layer by layer out of a deep sleep and into a state of restless drowsiness. Pulling a pillow to her side, she slid an arm around it. Cold comfort pretending a bag of feathers was John’s sleek body. This pretense that he was with her had to end—sneaking into his room, pilfering a cravat to wash in his favorite soap and douse in bergamot.

Shoving the pillow aside, a soft moan escaped her lips. Was it only her imagination, or did the scent from John’s stock tie she’d removed from under her pillow still linger? That was yesterday, for heaven’s sake. She’d see to having her linens changed in the morning.

She flopped onto her stomach, her cheek against the pillow. Her eyelids fluttered open. A shadow wavered along the wall in front of her. Her breath hitched. Whenever the draperies cast shadows, they did so against the opposite wall from the window—at the end of her bed, not this wall to where she was turned. Her pulse tripped. She shut her eyes again.

John’s faint scent wafted to her nostrils. How long was she going to keep him alive in her mind with her obsessive thoughts and actions? A pillow clutched tightly between her legs was never going to be him sliding into her. A shirt filched from his wardrobe was a pitiful replacement for his warm, strong arms wrapped around her.

Where once her fantasies had helped her through her grief, and through her dread of marrying his brother, they were now beginning to frighten her. This invoking his essence every living moment was poison and had to cease or she’d soon find herself in Bedlam. Memories and impossible longings should not hold so much power over a person. An all-too-familiar ball of melancholy rolled into the pit of her stomach.

A disturbance vibrated in the air behind her and prickled the nape of her neck. Her heart pumped furiously.

Don’t be foolish, nothing’s there.

With a heavy sigh meant to quell her fears, she opened her eyes to see the shadow flicker on the wall once again. The air seized in her chest. Her mouth ran dry.
Oh God, someone
is
at my back!

Another subtle shift of energy from behind and her stomach dropped out. Trembling fingers clutched the covers and her legs curled against her belly. “Who’s there?” Her voice rasped barely above a shaky whisper.

Silence.

And then: “It’s me, John.”

No, not John. Damn it, Edward, drunk again and playing tricks.
She let go of the held breath searing her lungs. Anger rooted in her blood. Her legs straightened.
Think.
She had to handle him carefully. No telling how he’d react in his state. “It’s quite late.” Good, she managed to sound calm enough. Like talking to a child.

“Quite late is an understatement, my love. Months late.”

Her heart froze.

Her brain numbed.

A ghost!

Good Lord, she’d conjured John’s spirit with her impossible longings. Her legs curled up again, and she clutched the covers to her chest.

A sob caught in her throat. “John?”

“Who did you think I was, madam?”

Gooseflesh raced up and down her arms. She lay with her back to the disembodied voice. She wasn’t going to Bedlam after all—she was already there. “Tell me I am not dreaming.”

“You are not dreaming, love. I’m here and I am alive. Come to me, there are things I need to tell you.”

Oh, she had rotted her mind with her foolishness! “You are indeed a ghost. Trent watched you die. Go away.”

“I am hardly an apparition. Vámbéry was a genius at contriving my death. I’m quite alive.” His voice grew huskier with each word.

Gooseflesh continued to dance along her skin. He sounded real. He sounded true. An inkling she should turn over toward the voice trickled through her. She could not. Dear God, had she finally fallen over the edge and into madness? Her fingers quivered so, she couldn’t pull the covers over her head to make it all disappear.

“You’ve not crossed paths with a ghost, Suri.”

She’d done this to herself, pretending for so long
.
“Yes, I have. Go away.”

He laughed softly. “Come here, and I’ll show you how real I am.”

That low throaty sound filled the air with a resonance she cherished. Some things were never forgotten. Still, she shivered. “You come to me, John. Climb in with me if you’re real.”

“I cannot.”

Her heart tripped and fell. “Because you’re a ghost and you can’t lift the covers? Go away.”

He chuckled. “No, I’m quite alive. In fact, if my blood pounds any harder for you, it’s going to burst right through my veins.”

“Then why can you not come closer?” At least her voice didn’t shake so hard now that she’d begun to gather her wits.

“Because if I climb in that bed with you, Suri, I’ll turn into a beast and ravish you so thoroughly you will truly think I am from another world. Now, come here and sit on my lap, damn it. Let’s do things right this time. Let me hold you for a while and tell you things you need to hear. I’ve waited a long time for this moment.”

Euphoria surged through her.
He’s really here!
But before she could make a move, trepidation grabbed her like a predator and struck elation flat.
Oh, God, what of Edward? Does John not know about his brother and me?

Tears burned her eyes. “All this time…” her voice cracked. “All these months, I thought you were dead.”

“And I knew you were alive and Trent had taken you to safety. What’s going on around here? First my mother thinks I’m a dream and now you think you’ve roused a ghost. What will my brother have to say when he learns of my existence?”

No, he does not know about Edward and me. Dear Lord.
She clutched her tight belly and tried to take stock.

“Come, Suri.”

She turned onto her back and stared at the ceiling, refusing to look his way. A cold, hard weight fell on her chest. The truth that he was real, in the flesh, had soared her to new heights only a moment ago, but what she had to say—must say—sent her soul plummeting head first into the ground. “I…I cannot come to you, John. You should leave this room.”

A beat of silence.

“Why?” The single word swirled in the air about them in a voice no longer filled with lusty heat or amused confidence.

“Because I am betrothed to your brother.”

A deathly silence permeated the room like a crypt beneath a church.

When the silence went on so long she’d begun to think that perhaps he wasn’t real after all, she heard a deep and ragged breath exhaled.

“When will you marry?” His voice came low and resigned. And filled with fatigue.

Tears gathered in her eyes and her chin quivered. She clutched the covers to her chest. “I…I told him I would not wed him until he was free of drink for six months.”

“And how long do you have until then?”

“Six months. It seems my ultimatum has only caused him to go deeper into his cups. Barely a day passes when he isn’t in them, so every morning he has to start counting the days all over again. He’s yet to manage an entire week.”

“When did he ask for your hand?”

Tears trickled from her eyes and clogged her throat. “Soon after I arrived. He knew I was destitute and said he wanted to take care of his brother’s—”

“Lover?”

“No. I—”

“Do you love him?” he interrupted.

She pushed up on her shaky elbows and turned his way. He stood in the shaft of moonlight—not a ghost, but a god in the flesh. Oh, how she loved
this
man. What a horrible predicament. “No, I do not love your brother. And I have been near to insanity wondering what to do. He’s a good man when he’s not drinking. He—”

Their gazes locked and all she had held dear in her memory of him was pitiful compared to what washed over her at that moment. “Has the thought ever occurred to you that Edward might be drinking more because he’s well aware you bear no affection for him, and there is naught he can do about it?”

She swept her feet over the side of the bed and stared at him, integrity holding her from stripping herself bare and running wildly into his arms. “I’m filled with so much guilt. I cannot bear more, even if it means saying no to you and leaving here.”

In the moonlight, she saw a corner of a mouth she’d longed for night after night curl at one corner. “I’ll see to Edward, Suri. I know him. He wouldn’t want you bound to him when you did not wish it. Especially since I’ve returned.”

Every nerve in her body stood at attention, screaming for movement. She clutched the edge of the mattress. “He’s rather sensitive, I’ve found.”

“Trust me. I’ll handle things with great care.”

A tiny stream of hope wound its way toward her heart. “But scandal would surround us.”

A bark of laughter erupted. “Do we give a bloody care about scandal, you and me?”

The stream of hope widened and trickled into her heart’s chambers. “There’s your mother to consider.”

He lifted a brow. “Now there’s a right one with whom to discuss the matter. Her Grace is the queen at hiding scandal.” He set his hands to his hips. “By the way, I brought your sister along. She’s with Jeremy.”

Shock jolted her, left her mouth gaping. “My sister?”

He laughed. “Yes, she’s in Jeremy’s room smothering him with kisses about now, I would suspect.”

Her heart beat wildly and her nerves hummed in her ears. “How? What?”

“Vámbéry rescued her. The wily man knew I’d be back in Delhi hunting for her once the monsoons hit. She was in her home waiting for me.”

Tears fell in earnest and the river of hope twining through her heart burst forth and flooded her entire being. “Is she all right?”

He nodded. “As best as can be expected after losing Harry. We ran into Trent in London at headquarters. He told us about Rupert and what was done to you, so we bypassed Bridgeford Hall and came here straightaway.” His mouth twitched. “Traehaern never said a word with regard to you and Edward. Leave it to him to pack in a few surprises.”

He opened his arms to her. “You’ve a family now if you want it.” His voice lowered, filled with an emotion that melted Suri’s bones. “We’ll help your sister heal. We’ll help Jeremy to speak again. And together, we’ll see Edward through this as best we can. Come, Suri.”

She scrambled from the bed and flew into solid arms of human flesh, the relief she felt at finding him alive eating up any chance of acting the lady. “John!”

He laughed softly and wrapped his arms around her. She nestled her head against his chest and into his familiar heat, and let the love for him she thought once buried rise up in a great crescendo, enveloping her until she cried out against his flesh, “I’m yours, John. You have me forever.”