Conspiring with a Rogue (34 page)

“
I don’t believe it.” Drake gave Rutherford a nudge and pointed toward Whitney and Lady Audrey while judging the fastest way to get them out of the coil they’d gotten themselves into.

“
I’ll be damned.” Rutherford whistled low. “What do we do now?”

“
Only one thing we can do.” Drake strode toward Whitney and Lady Audrey. “Get them out of here as quietly as possible.”

“
How do you propose we accomplish that?”

Drake took in the details of the men who had cornered both women. “Money,” he replied.

“
Brilliant idea. What should we do about that man?” Rutherford nodded in Johnnie-boy’s direction.

“
Leave him be.” Whitney’s increasing efforts to dodge the overeager admirer’s hands was Drake’s biggest concern. Lady Audrey was not faring much better. Dealing with Johnnie-boy would have to wait until Whitney was secure. After that he might just point out her would-be future husband to her.

Drake arrived at Whitney’s side, just as the bald man slipped his hand around her waist and crushed her to his immense belly. The desire to wrap his hands around the man’s fleshy throat took all Drake’s will to ignore.

Whitney let out a yelp, but before he could play her knight, she had twisted the man’s arm behind him. “Monsieur,” she said in the most unbelievable French accent. “I told you, I’m not for sale. Here is my husband.” She released her attempted captor and grabbed Drake’s arm, yanking him toward her. “He’s already paid for me. Oui?” She batted her eyelashes at Drake.

With a rueful grin, Drake nodded. “I’m afraid so,” he drawled. “She cost me a fortune, too.” He reached out and grasped her bottom, enjoying her outraged gasp. “There are plenty of other lovely ladies here.” Drake extended a small purse of coins to the man. “Take this for any inconvenience my wife may have caused you. I told her to wait in the carriage. Headstrong wench.”

He drew her hard against him, until the soft mound of her breast pushed into his side. He glanced at her when she didn’t flinch away as he had expected. When his gaze found hers, all the air in his lungs left in a whoosh at the desire gleaming in her eyes. Drake forced himself to look away and tossed another purse at the man. The coins rattled as he caught it. “What’s this for?” The bald fellow eyed him suspiciously.

“
For better luck next time.” Drake stepped around the man and pointed to Lady Audrey. “That one also belongs to me.”

The man nodded to his thin, pale friend who had his long fingers clutched around Lady Audrey’s arm. “Release her.”

Without a word and looking sufficiently frightened as Whitney had failed to do, Lady Audrey started toward him, but the giant put his arm out. “Don’t tell me—another stray wife?”

“
Certainly not. She’s my mistress,” Drake replied. Whitney snorted low beside him.

“
A wife and a mistress and you’re in a brothel?” The idiot standing before Drake scratched his head. “And you brought them both with you?”

Drake shrugged lazily. “What can I say? I’ve certain fantasies.”

The man laughed a slow rumble that built to a steady roar. “Now,
that
I can understand.” He moved his arm to let Lady Audrey through. “Good luck.” He rattled the two bags of coins as he turned and motioned his friend to follow him away.

“
Drake,” Whitney whispered. “You can let go of me now.”

But he couldn’t. His fingers were paralyzed with fear. What if he hadn’t seen her before he and Rutherford had left? What if she’d been ravished, or worse, killed because she had somehow managed to escape the locked door he had left her behind? The notion made him weak. He glanced behind his back and, unable to locate Johnnie-boy, Drake made a decision. “I’m taking you home,” he managed to choke out as he dragged her toward the exit.

“
I’m not leaving without Lillian.”

Drake nodded. “Then you can leave now, because she’s no longer here.”

Whitney’s brow furrowed. “Where is she?”

“
That’s a good question. I’m still working on finding out the answer.”

“
We’re
working on finding the answer.”

“
No,” Drake snapped. The thought of Whitney putting herself in danger turned his blood cold. “I’m taking you home
now
.”

“
I’ve a carriage here,” she protested.

“
Rutherford?” Drake asked, hoping the man would agree.

Rutherford nodded. “I’ll see Audrey gets home and Sally gets the carriage back.”

“
Oh, now you’re of a mind to help me,” Lady Audrey snapped.

Rutherford smiled down at Audrey. “I’d have rescued you, my lady, but Sutherland had all the coin.”

Drake chuckled at Lady Audrey’s unladylike snort as he gazed into Whitney’s eyes, willing her to submit. He wanted to take her home—his home. He wanted to undress her, caress her and inflame her body, until she begged him to enter her. That was the first step to gaining her love, and that was the revenge he needed. And if she was at his home, she would be safe and not getting into more trouble. He ground his teeth in disgust. It was not his place to worry about her anymore. It was not his place to care so damned much. He really needed to work on being more callous.

She finally nodded, her face taut with an emotion he could not read. “But you must take me straight home.”

“
I will,” he promised without regret for the lie.

Getting Whitney into his bed was much easier than Drake had anticipated. Of course, he
had
meant for her to actually be conscious while nestled under his sheets. His fantasy of seduction had not included him lying next to a soundly snoring woman, but he should have known to always expect the unexpected with Whitney.

He supposed he was partly to blame. When she had slumped forward during the carriage ride to his house, he could have woken her, but she looked so sweet, so innocent, so like the woman he had thought to spend the rest of his life waking up next to. So instead of waking her and ravishing her as he had planned, he had leaned her head against his shoulder and closed his eyes to fully enjoy the heat of her body against his, her smell of lavender surrounding him, the steady hiss of her breath, reassuring him she was safe for the moment.

Now inside his bedchamber, Drake stared at Whitney, curled like a small bundle in his enormous bed, and a wry smile lifted his lips. Her blonde hair fanned around her face; her lashes lay heavy against her creamy skin. He sat in a chair near the bed and watched her. Her fingers twitched in her sleep, her chest rose and fell with each deep breath she took and every once in a while a smile curved up the corners of her mouth. She looked so fragile, so innocent.

The familiar ache of loss gripped him. He pictured them living in New York with the occasional trip back to Yorkshire to see her family. Their children would have accompanied them on the voyage. Whitney wouldn’t be the type of mother who would leave her children in a nanny’s care, and that was why he had loved her.

But this was all fantasy. He would not be waking to her warm smiles and a house full of their children’s laughter as he had planned and dreamed. She was not his. He grabbed the edge of the chair, struggling to gain mastery over himself. How could such a small woman make him feel so weak? He’d built an empire and outwitted countless men who wished to bring him down, but this slip of a woman was destroying him like no man ever could.

He stood, afraid if he didn’t leave the room he may go to her, wake her and beg her to rethink her decision to leave him. He’d not beg for her love. She would be the one begging for his, and it had better happen soon. Every moment near her weakened his resolve.

With a shake of his head, he walked silently out of the room and closed the door as quietly as possible, then made his way to his study. The bright rays of dawn filled his office and seemed to gleam on the piles of work littering his desk. He sighed heavily and strode over to his chair. He might as well work because he sure as hell wasn’t going to sleep. His mind whirled with everything from Lillian, to his sinking ships, to Johnnie-boy’s obvious preference for other men, and finally back to Whitney. He had to push everything from his mind but business.

He tackled the mound of correspondence, but his thoughts kept wandering back to Whitney and what their life together would have been like. “Damn.” The direction his thoughts had taken yet again alarmed him. He needed to keep his thoughts of Whitney confined to one detail—she had left him for another man.

Doggedly, he threw himself back into work, checking ships’ schedules, calculating loss and profit margins and choosing the crew who would sail on the
Adventurer
to pick up Lloyd’s next coffee shipment. Only Drake’s best men would do against the threat of Cadogan sinking another ship.

Drake lost himself in his work, taking pleasure from the mundane activities that had helped turn him from a beggar’s son into a self-made man. His shipping company had been built from his own hard work and burning desire to prove to everyone who had ever looked at his family or him with pity that he did not need their handouts. Failure or relying on anyone but himself was not an option, had never been an option. Either choice would mean he had turned out exactly like his father, and Drake would rather be dead than a worthless beggar like Samuel Sutherland.

Suddenly, a soft feminine voice broke the silence. “Did you sleep at all?”

“
No,” he replied, looking up from the shipping schedule. His breath caught in his lungs at the sight of Whitney’s hair surrounding her pale face in a blond halo. With the sunlight streaming over her and through her silken locks and her wide amber eyes sparkling with concern, she looked like a sea nymph. And with every curve she possessed easily viewed under the transparent material of her costume, she appeared to be a naughty nymph. The need to dominate her coursed through his blood in a surge of lust.

He leaned back in his chair, amused at the blush that stained her cheeks when she finally realized he was assessing her body. “Did you sleep well?” he asked.

“
Like a lazy old cat.” She folded her arms across her chest. “Why couldn’t you sleep?”

“
You, my business troubles, Lillian…” He shrugged. He was not about to pour his heart out to Whitney.

“
I’m sorry.” She sat across from him, her eyes swimming with pity.

“
Save your pity for yourself,” he snapped. “I’ve no doubt you’ll need it very soon.”

“
What do you mean by that?”

“
That your nights will most likely be lonely and cold.” He gritted his teeth on the truth. As much as he wanted to crush her fantasy of Johnnie-boy, he would stick to his decision to first make sure his suspicions were correct, and that meant paying the man a visit. Something Drake intended to do later this afternoon―after getting Whitney into his bed.

“
You’re being cruel.” She twined her hands in her lap before looking at him once again. “I suppose I deserve it. If you’d not been preoccupied with my disappearance, perhaps you could have saved some of your ships.”

Her words echoed his own thoughts that he longed to deny.
Damn her
. If she was now going to act the part of the sacrificial lamb, his revenge would be much less sweet. He felt ready to explode.

He stood, went to the sideboard and poured himself a full glass of whiskey to calm the storm brewing inside him.

“
It’s eleven in the morning,” she said softly behind him. “Are you drinking because of me or because of the business?”

“
The business,” he grumbled, downing the full contents of the glass in one swallow. He was not about to tell her just how much he missed her. It was sickening. If turning the tables on her did not save him, he didn’t know what would.

“
Drake.” Her voice trembled, but he stubbornly kept his back to her. He heard her dress swish; then the heat of her body was behind him and her scent surrounded him. An answering ache welled inside him.

He wanted her. The depth of just how much stunned him. After everything that had changed between them, he yearned still—probably more—for her emotionally and physically. He would never again have her love, but he damned sure would have her body one more time. She put a hand on his arm, and his entire body hardened.

“
Please, talk to me. Let me help you. Let Sin help you.”