A Lady's Revenge (38 page)

She had not backed down from her brother’s disbelief, and Guy knew this conversation had to be ripping her apart.

Somerton stepped forward and, in an unusual show of affection, kissed the crown of her head. “Leave it to me, Cora.” He nudged her toward the door. “Now go with Helsford.”

Her voice cracked. “T-thank you.”

Guy loaded the women into the carriage and headed for the inn. As they rambled down the narrow road, his mind focused on the hours that lay ahead.

He would finally have an opportunity to explain his role in her imprisonment. A long overdue explanation, one he had fully intended to deliver after the Rothams’ ball. He was not looking forward to the discussion, but he knew his confession was one of the keys to building a future together.

Would she understand why he acted as he did? It was the one answer he feared the most.

If the worst happened and she could not forgive him, he would respect her decision and leave her be when Somerton called them back to London. Somehow, he would summon the strength to walk away from the only woman he had ever loved. But until then, he was not letting her out of his sight.

Which meant they would be sleeping in the same bedchamber tonight.

Cora’s ears vibrated from the clamor going on inside her head. The closer they got to their destination, the harder her heart pounded.

Guy’s need reached across the carriage, searching for a small sign of acceptance, but Cora kept her gaze on Grace. She spoke in soft tones to Jack’s sister to keep the girl’s mind off her recent ordeal. At a glance, Jack’s sister appeared unharmed, but Cora recognized the hollow tones in Grace’s speech and the tightness around her eyes. She also knew some wounds were visible only from the inside.

Guy sighed and shifted in his seat, drawing her attention away from Grace. She peeked from beneath her lashes and noticed his clenched hand resting on his powerful thigh. The area between her legs tingled, and Cora pressed her legs together to prolong the effect. His body called to hers as a canvas calls to its master. Excitement, fear, and guilt all clambered for supremacy in her mind.

She wanted him. Cora closed her eyes as the truth filled her soul. They were both adults, with adult desires. Surely, when they were ready to end their liaison, they could walk away with no regrets. She recalled the twinge of hope she had felt after their wondrous time together at the Golden Duck. For one precious moment, she saw their future together, replete with children and happiness and love.

Guy had always held a special place in her life. From their earliest acquaintance, he had watched over her, guided her, cared for her. She could no longer remember a time that he didn’t occupy a space in her memory.

When the time came to give him up, would she be able to hand him over into a wife’s keeping? The question clawed at her insides like a hungry dog digging for a scrap of food. Frantic. Intent. Fruitless.

The temptation of spending several days, and nights, in Guy’s arms was proving too enticing. Nowhere else did she feel complete and happy and hopeful. Nowhere else did she feel loved. Were a few days of unalloyed joy too much to ask? No, she decided.

Calm poured through her mind, quieting her concerns, and her normally confident nature returned. With a languid sweep of her lashes, she locked eyes with Guy. His features revealed a moment’s confusion, and then an explosive expression of longing ripped away that paltry reaction. The carriage hummed and heated with undeniable, irresistible tension.

Guy stared at her mouth, his breathing heavy. On impulse, she slid her tongue along the edge of her lower lip. The planes of his face sharpened, and he released a low groan of need.

“Got a sour stomach, my lord?” Dinks asked.

Cora flinched, and Guy’s lips firmed, both having forgotten the carriage’s other occupants.

“Pardon?” His voice was low, husky.

“I asked if you had a sour stomach,” Dinks repeated, smoothing a hand over Fang’s purring body. “Thought I heard a bit of rumbling there.”

With obvious reluctance, he turned his attention to her maid. “Ah, no. I’m afraid you caught me trying to stifle a yawn.”

Dinks smiled and sent Cora a sideways glance. “I see. No doubt we will all sleep like wee babes tonight.”

“Indeed,” Guy murmured.

Cora worked to hide a smile. Dinks knew men, and Guy’s feeble attempt at deception did not fool her. If Cora’s body wasn’t vibrating with its need for release, she would have shared her friend’s amusement over the situation. Instead of returning a secretive smile, Cora was forced to shut her mind to her body’s demands and pray that this interminable ride would end. Soon.

The moon hovered high in the sky by time everyone was settled in for the night. Cora tipped her head back against the iron bed frame and watched Guy pace the chamber with an uneven gait like an anxious soon-to-be father. She frowned, making a mental note to check his leg for injuries—after she got him out of his clothes.

Once they reached the Grinning Buck Inn, their routine was quite reminiscent of the time they had stayed at the Golden Duck. The only difference was Grace occupied a cot in Dinks’s room, and it was not Scrapper nestled warmly in a linen-filled trunk, but Fang.

The moment she and Guy turned toward their shared room, Cora sensed Guy’s slow withdrawal. All the vivid promises they had made with their eyes in the carriage had disappeared beneath the weight of Guy’s thoughts.

She made another attempt to get him to talk about whatever was bothering him. “Guy, won’t you tell me what is weighing on your mind?”

“Yes,” he said, tugging on his cravat. “In a minute.”

Cora clasped her hands together on her lap and prayed for patience. One minute turned into five. Five turned to ten. The longer he delayed, the more her nerves frayed. Then she recalled Guy’s comment at the Rothams’ ball. “
I
need
to
discuss
something
with
you.
” Lord Chittendale’s rude interruption and Valère’s uncouth henchman had prevented them from ever having their discussion.

“Is this the conversation you wanted to have after the Rothams’ ball?”

He set his hands on his waist and stared at the tattered carpet, as if all the answers in the world were scribbled at his feet. In all the years that she had known him, she could not recollect ever seeing him so torn. “Yes.”

She held out her hand. “Guy, come sit with me.” When he stared at her outstretched hand, with a mixture of yearning and consternation, she said more softly, “Please.”

His chest caved in on a long exhalation, and he muttered something low that sounded like, “In for a penny.” He strode around to the side of the bed and brought her fingers up to his lips, kissing them with a heart-aching reverence. Easing onto the bed, he sat on the edge—half-facing her and half-facing one corner of the room.

“It is time I confess my role in your captivity,” he said in one unbroken breath.

Cora’s heart thumped once, hard against her rib cage. An eternity elapsed before the organ gathered enough strength to send the next beat crashing into the wall of her chest. “Which one?” she asked stupidly.

His lips thinned. “The first one, of course.”

She heard the words he spoke but could make no logical sense of them. “Guy, that is not possible—”

He cast her a quelling look. “Allow me to finish, Impatient One, before I change my mind.”

Not
a
chance
, she thought. One cannot make a statement like that and think to leave the receiver hanging midexplanation. At least, not if said speaker wanted to wake up with all his appendages intact. “All this pausing for effect smacks of Ethan. Do get on with it, my lord.”

Cora refrained from smiling her satisfaction when Guy’s countenance no longer carried the evidence of his mental burdens. She was pleased to see the impressive look of irritation shining in his dark eyes.

“As I was saying,” he said with precise enunciation. “Over the past year, I received an unusually high number of coded missives to decipher. Some of the messages were nothing more than poorly scribbled decoys designed to waste our time.” His hold tightened around her fingers. “But others brought us closer and closer to the man responsible for the loss of a number of British ships.”

A spark of memory flashed through her mind of Guy questioning her about what inciting incident had led to her association with Valère. He had wanted to know what came first—the investigation of the double spy or that of the British ships. At the time, she considered the answer to be of little significance. Both needed her attention. But in light of Guy’s current confession, she feared the sequence of events might mean the difference between purgatory and salvation.

Good Lord. For the life of her, she could not recall her answer.

In a toneless murmur, he continued, “The contents of the last missive confirmed our suspicions.”

“Let me guess,” she said. “The coded trail led you to Valère.”

His burning gaze met hers. “Yes.”

“So you were the one who finally unraveled the cipher.” She heard the note of wonder in her own voice. “A cipher three other agents were unable to break.”

He studied her with a look of intense concentration, one she imagined he reserved only for his ciphers. “Do you not comprehend, Cora? Do you not understand how I contributed to your imprisonment?”

Emotion cracked his voice, and Cora’s heart ached with the knowledge of how long he had kept this secret bottled up inside. “Guy.” She edged forward until she could feel the hard puffs of his breaths against her cheek. “Oh, Guy.” She smoothed her fingers over his jaw and cupped his chin with her hand. He turned his face into her palm, delivering a fervent kiss in its center. “Please tell me you have not placed the responsibility of my imprisonment upon your own shoulders.”

He covered her hand with his. “Had I not deciphered that final message, Somerton would never have brought Valère to your attention. And you would never have suffered such torture, such degradation—”

She leaned forward, smoothing her thumb over his lips to halt his anguished recitation. “Had you not deciphered that missive, who knows how many more ships and sailors would have been lost.”

A heartbeat of silence passed while he absorbed her reply. His hand clasped the nape of her neck, drawing her close. He rested his forehead against hers, squeezing his eyes shut for three shuddering breaths. In a harsh whisper, he asked, “But what of you?”

“What of me?” she asked gently, tipping his chin up so she could look into his eyes. “Guy, my stay in Valère’s dungeon rests squarely on my shoulders and no one else’s. I became careless and overconfident. Through a series of poor decisions, I placed my servants and myself in grave danger. As for your intelligence bringing Valère into my circle of attention, that was nothing more than a matter of accelerated timing.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“As much as I wish it were otherwise, my fate became linked with Valère’s the moment I clasped his pendant around my neck. Your intelligence did nothing more than hurry the process along, and for that, I should thank you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Be at ease, my love.” She kissed his lips. “I grew weary of the search. At times, I wanted nothing more than to take walks in the park or dine in the Tuileries Gardens. But I was determined to find the man who murdered my parents, and you helped me accomplish that goal. For the first time in thirteen years, I’m able to think beyond the nuances of a whispered conversation or the allegiance of my dance partner. I’m able to dream about, to make plans for, a normal life filled with happiness, one devoid of intrigue and lies and death.”

“That sounds wonderful.” Sincerity and longing laced his words, but his expression alerted her to the fact that he still held himself responsible for her imprisonment.

“Let it go, Guy,” she said. “I do not blame you in any way. It is my burden to bear.”

“We will bear it together, sweetheart,” he said in a ragged whisper.

Tears pricked the backs of her eyes. Giving this man up was going to rip her heart out. “Must you always be so damned noble?”

She startled a snort of laughter from him, lightening the mood in the small chamber by several degrees.

“I could try to tamp it down a bit.” The stiffness encasing his body seemed to melt before her eyes. “But you would not love me nearly as much.”

Cora could feel heat spreading up her neck. Why had she expressed her deepest feelings? When she had looked back to see him tied to the chair, beaten and murderous, expressing her love seemed a natural conclusion. But now those three words were going to cause her all manner of trouble.

“Guy, I think it best if you forget—”

His fingers tunneled through her hair, tilting her lips to the perfect feasting angle, and then he kissed her. A ravenous, volatile, we-are-alive kiss, one the recipient would never forget. He continued his assault until her bones melted and her body resurged with new life.

He drew away only so far as to draw breath and speak words that would turn her into a blubbering fool. “I’ll not countenance any thoughts on your part of leaving me.”

Her eyes widened.

“Just as I thought. Maddening woman,” he said with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. “I don’t know what odd notions you have skirting around that active—normally intelligent—mind of yours, but I will not allow you to turn your back on our love.”

Not
allow?
She lifted her chin a notch and narrowed her eyes. “I’m afraid you are under a wrong assumption, sir.”

“And what might that be?”

“That you have a say in the matter.”

His lips twitched. “As your husband, I will have plenty of say. Every piece of your delectable body shall be mine to do with as I please.”

A disturbing and wholly inappropriate shiver tracked down her spine. Although his arrogant statement made her want to kick his shin, his possessive reference to her body sent a thrilling sparkle of anticipation straight down to the pit of her stomach.

“I’m sorry,” she said in an entirely too-sweet voice. “I seem to have missed the ceremony of my own wedding. I hope I said ‘I do’ at the proper moment.”

“Saying ‘I do’ won’t be the only words whispering from your mouth.”

Cora found rational thought nearly impossible when he became quite intent at exploring the long column of her neck. The succulent warmth of his wicked mouth heated her veins into a fiery river. She closed her eyes, not wanting to disrupt his very thorough exploration, but she had to make him understand the gravity of their situation.

She pushed at his chest. “Guy, enough of this nonsense.”

He released an aggrieved sigh. “It is not nonsense to me.” He swept the knuckle of his index finger down her cheek. “I love you, Cora, and I know you love me. We both want the same things—family, home, a life beyond the Nexus. When I imagine my future, all I see is you.” He tapped her nose. “Just you. From the moment your six-year-old feet stumbled upon your brother and me swimming in the lake, and you jumped in to join us, I knew we would be fast friends. And when I found you prancing around Mrs. Lancaster’s town house, looking like a damn seductress, I knew our relationship would go far beyond friendship.” His voice became raw, rough with emotion. “Destiny entwined our paths, but our future lies within your hands.
Please
, Cora. Please give our love a chance. Give
us
a chance.”