Conspiring with a Rogue (19 page)

A draft seemed to roll through the room as the words hung between them. She felt vulnerable and exposed. She crossed her legs, her thighs rubbing together. The unmistakable stickiness of his seed and her lost virginity shocked her.

She stilled. She had stolen a moment of pleasure to last her a lifetime, but at what price? To protect him, she would have to hurt him again. Bile rose in her throat. She clenched the sheets to stop her hands from shaking. Now she had to break Drake’s heart into so many pieces he would count himself lucky to have not married her and escaped.

He sat on the bed and faced her. “I have all night, Whitney.”

“No need. My explanation will take only a minute.” Her lie needed to be brief and easily remembered.

“A minute?” He scowled at her. “A minute is all you need to explain why you abandoned me a few short weeks before our wedding and left nothing more than a note saying you found someone else who awoke your passion?” His right eyebrow rose in a perfect arch.

He had been spending entirely too much time around Sin. She could no longer tell what Drake was thinking. She did not want to say what she had to say. She did not want to do this. She no longer wanted to play out this charade of a life, but there was no way to step off the stage
and
save the man she loved.

“I’m not staying. I’m not back for you.” The words left her drained, but the color deserting his face took her heart and ripped it in half. It was amazing she could feel so bloody damn hot while sitting perfectly naked. Sweat dripped down her back.

“You are not back for me, yet we just—”

“Shagged, plain and simple,” she blurted, desperate to cut him off before he said something that made it impossible for her to go on.

“Are you saying—”

“I’ve said nothing yet. Do cease talking so I may.” She scrambled off the bed and raced to grab her costume off the floor. “You wanted to tup me, and I wanted you too. Nothing more. No need for flowers or a stanza written in my honor.”

She had to get out of here.

She had to get out of this place, away from him and the horror on his face.

She had to run as fast as she could, before she found herself on the floor at his feet, telling him the whole sordid mess, begging him to never leave her no matter the cost to his dreams, no matter the cost to his pride.

She shoved her arms in her costume and turned to face him. He sat unmoving on the bed, his face white as death. She did not want to do this, to say the lies she must, but she had no choice. “I left you for a man named Jonathan. I love him terribly, but he’s…” she glanced at the floor, embarrassment heating her face. “He’s impotent.”

“Impotent. That beats all. You left me for an impotent man.” Drake rose slowly and picked up his trousers. The features of his face changed as he digested what she had told him. “Why are you here with me if you’re so in love?”

Her mouth went dry. Lies and more lies. Would it never end? “My being here, at this place, has nothing to do with you. But then I saw you…”

A sardonic smile quirked his mouth up at the corners. “And you had to have me.” He slipped on his shirt as he watched her.

She set her headdress on her head and lowered the veil, grateful for the shield. “Something like that. I thought… well, I thought to never see you again. And then you were here, and I was here.” She threw up her hands. “He cannot perform, you see. And I thought to experience the act just once, here, now, with you in this place. No one would know but us. And then I would know what it was like.”

“And what was it like?”

Her throat tightened at his question. “Satisfactory.” She turned toward the door, her composure threatening to desert her. Her slippers padded as she walked. She counted each step, trying not to scream or cry or scream
and
cry. As she reached for the door, his hand gripped her arm and his breath scorched her neck.

“
Whitney
. You can’t go back to him now after what just occurred between us.”

Her name had never brought her such misery. She jerked her arm free. “I love him. This…this was a mistake. I thought to taste passion, but the price of hurting Jonathan is too high.”

Drake released her arm and turned her to face him. His gray, taut face made her want to cry. “The price of hurting this man that you love is too high?”

She forced herself to nod.

Drake’s face hardened. “I see.”

“Do you?” God, she wanted to die.

“Of course. I may be a fool when it comes to you, but in general I’m fairly intelligent. The price of hurting me is one you have no qualms paying.”

His voice was so cold that she shivered. He did see. She’d done her job. She’d never felt more wretched in her life. “I’m sorry. I am so sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

“When didn’t you mean it? Was it when you told me you loved me? Accepted my marriage proposal? Left me for another man? Or chose to sleep with me just to experience the act?” The muscles in his jaw jumped and twitched.

She flung open the door and turned to face him. “I shouldn’t have let this happen.”

“You’re damn right. You knew you didn’t love me, but you slept with me. I feel sorry for the man you proclaim to now love. In fact, I’ll take you to him. He should know what sort of viper will be lying next to him.” Drake advanced toward her.

Faced with his fierce anger, she scuttled back several steps. “Don’t you dare. I don’t need you to tell him. I’ll do it myself. Nor do I need your escort. Sin can see me safely home.”

“Rutherford knows you’re here?” Drake roared.

“Well, yes, but—”

“I’ll kill him,” Drake growled, shoving past her and flying out the door.

“Drake!” She ran down the hall after him, but skidded to a stop as he rounded a dark corridor and disappeared out of sight. Now was her chance to flee. Sin could take care of himself. She would make sure never to run into Drake again. Footsteps pounded down the hall, growing louder as they came. He was coming back for her. Or was he doubling back to find Sin to beat him to a pulp? She yanked her dress to her thighs and ran in the opposite direction.

Whitney was a damned magician. Drake’s footsteps echoed in the silent corridor as he ran, once again, back up the corridor he had just come down. Where the blazes had she gone in such a short time? Magician was too kind. She was a sorceress, a temptress. And now she was gone, as if he had not left her standing here mere minutes ago.

Blazing, sizzling, crackling anger hummed inside him. He threw open the bedroom she had used him in. Empty. But of course it would be.

Unless
…

He dropped to his knees and glanced under the bed. Darkness peered back. Shoving off the ground, he jumped up and wiped his hands against his trousers.
Blasted wench
. Curse the day he met her.

He strode out the door, shaking his head as he walked. He should be cursing himself. She’d played him for a fool, but he was the numbskull who’d let her. Hadn’t he been rather smart and careful at one time?
She’d made him careless. He’d forgotten all he needed was himself.
She’d given him a painful reminder of the lesson learned long ago.

Drake paused in front of the first bedroom door he came to, sweat trickling down his back. Why the devil was he trying to rescue the little liar? She loved another and had used him for bed sport. He’d been used in his life, but this was a new twist on the pain. He should leave her to fend for herself in this den of sinners, but damned if he could make himself do it. He’d probably get himself killed for a woman who loved another man. An impotent one at that. Drake yanked the door open and barged into the room, prepared to fight.

On a large white canopied bed, Lord Cadogan knelt behind a raven-haired woman splayed on her hands and knees, hair swinging in time with each thrust of Cadogan’s body into her own. “Pardon me,” Drake murmured, backing out the way he had come.

He had not gotten three feet before the door crashed open behind him. Cadogan, no doubt. Drake kept on walking, and within three steps Cadogan strode beside him.

Left with little other choice, Drake paused and faced the man who stood in only his trousers with his shirt gripped in his hand. “Sorry for the intrusion. I was looking for Rutherford.”

“You’re not one for rules, are you?” Cadogan asked as he yanked on his shirt.

“Meaning?” Drake was not in the mood to decipher Cadogan’s riddles. Not when Rutherford sat enjoying himself somewhere when he should really be receiving several powerful facers.

“Meaning all members of the Sainted Order are required to only use the appointed saintly names. You are no exception, unless you’ve failed once again to roger the woman.”

Cadogan was a vulgar ass, and Drake itched to pummel his face into the dirt. But another night. Perhaps even tomorrow night. “Rest assured, she’s been rogered.” And now she was off to live the rest of her life in celibacy. Based on the passion he had just tasted in her, he doubted she would last a week without sex. He felt ill.

“Excellent,” Cadogan replied. “Where is she? I want assurances from the lady’s plump lips.”

“Gone,” Drake snapped. He would be damned if Cadogan was going to question Whitney tonight or any other. “She had to leave. Something about her husband.”

“Jezebel’s married?”

Cadogan’s thin-pressed lips made Drake want to laugh. “Seems so. I, of course, explained to her that she could not serve as a woman of pleasure to we saints since she’s married.” Warming to his act, he slapped Cadogan on the back. “See, I
do
know the rules.”

Cadogan brushed Drake’s hand away. “I’ll make an exception for Jezebel since I just spent a good hour picturing her while tupping that black-haired wench.”

Drake had his own picture in mind. His hand nice and firm around Cadogan’s neck. He blinked several times, but the image would not subside.

“Feeling ill, Saint Thomas More?”

“Extremely. Perhaps I’ve caught something contagious.”

Blanching, Cadogan stumbled back a few steps. The rumors of the man’s fear of diseases was obviously true. Drake coughed good and hard and made sure spittle flew from his mouth. Cadogan’s face twisted into a grimace.
Perfect.
Perhaps Cadogan would have nightmares tonight. Drake sneezed several times. This was damn well fun.

“You’d better go home, Saint More. Come back when your head is clear.” Cadogan snickered.

The leering man thoroughly annoyed Drake. Cadogan gathered too much enjoyment from giving Drake the name of a beheaded saint. “Are you sure I should leave? Don’t you want to see if you can find Jezebel tonight, so you can make sure I tupped her? Of course, maybe she has what I have. But that wouldn’t bother you, would it?”

“I—”

Warming considerably to his ruse, Drake threw his arm around Cadogan and drew the man close to his side, their faces inches from each other. “Of course you don’t mind. The possibility of her being sick is not going to dampen your raging desire to have her.
Is it
?”

“Get off me, you fool,” Cadogan snarled and shoved Drake away. “Don’t concern yourself with Jezebel tonight. In fact, don’t concern yourself with her at all. I know exactly where to locate the demirep. She’s one of Madam Caprice’s girls.”

Damnation. Of course with Whitney, nothing could be simple. Drake clenched his fists at his side. At the moment he may despise Whitney, but he was going to have to save her from this lecher.

“Perfect,” he managed, surprising himself with his ability to sound so calm when he was anything but. “No doubt she’ll enlighten you on the subject of my prowess when you locate her on the morrow. I’ll be leaving as soon as I find Rutherford.”

Clearly annoyed, Cadogan quirked a brow, his mouth turning down into a frown.

“Saint Ambrose, I mean, of course,” Drake finished.

Drake watched in amusement as Cadogan’s upper lip curled in a snarl. “Do you need Saint Ambrose to escort you home?” Cadogan asked. “Does the darkness of the river frighten you?”

If Cadogan only realized how close he was to having his face rearranged for him, would the man shut his mouth? The likelihood was doubtful. “It’s not his permission I seek,” Drake replied. “It’s his blunt I intend to take with me. We made a bet, he’s lost, and he
will
pay before I leave.” Drake had never been a liar, but damned if he was not impressed with his newfound ability. It was as if he had been schooled in the trade of pitching the gammon since birth.

“Are times hard in the shipping business?” Cadogan offered a jeering smile. “I hear you had a vessel go down recently. Must have cost your purse to pinch.”

Drake stilled at the man’s mocking words. The conversation had just entered dangerous waters, and he had no intention of drowning. He forced himself to become aware of everything around him, checking for any threat lurking in the darkness. Water trickled from the distance, a cold draft moved through the tunnels, and Cadogan’s gaze darted back and forth while his fingers tapped against his side.

“My pockets are plump enough,” Drake replied slowly. “It’s true, I lost a ship. Strange circumstances that.” He studied Cadogan’s face but could discern nothing. “I do not intend to lose another.” He could feel his nostrils flare, though he tried to control his anger.