Daring the Duke (14 page)

He wanted to see her play, did he? Well, he’d be in for an unpleasant surprise.

They were welcomed at the hazard table, and Stephen gave Audrey the dice.

She threw the dice. Lost. Threw them again. Lost. After three more rolls Stephen grabbed the cubes from her. He rolled back-to-back winners and recouped the money she had lost.

"It’s time to move on. You are a terrible hazard player."

"You never asked me if I was good."

"Well, I give you points for consistency. Are you able to roll anything other than a two or three?"

She grinned, and couldn’t explain why she suddenly felt happy. Her luck at the tables had always been a sore spot. "I have the worst luck with dice."

"Are you any better at cards?"

"Not much," she said cheerfully. He laughed, and a spark of light burst inside. Her lack of gaming skills had been the bane of their ring. She was a dismal gambler. She had no luck with cards or dice, and the others had forever been disappointed in her. Unbidden memories diminished the ray of light, but a spark remained.

Stephen brushed a soft kiss on her cheek. "l wish I knew what dark thoughts flash through your mind."

Before she could say anything, his hand grasped her cold one. "Let’s socialize."

He led her into the hallway. A few couples were scattered about, and Travers and St. John stood talking near the library door. Two women drunkenly danced, spinning each other in the middle of the hall.

Stephen caught one of the women as she careened into him.

The woman grabbed his shirt and suggestively slid herself up Stephen’s front as she regained her footing. "Welcome to our hall." She ran a hand through his blond hair and twirled a lock in her fingers. "I think I’ve found a more surefooted dancing partner. And one with all the right equipment."

Stephen disentangled himself and set her to St. John’s side. The woman pouted but clutched St. John’s waist.

St. John smiled at Stephen and greeted him. They appeared to be friends.

Travers gave a tight nod. He turned to Audrey. "l don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting your lovely companion."

Stephen paid Travers’s show of temper little attention and Travers’s eyes narrowed even farther. Stephen introduced her as Diana, and Travers’s hand slithered over hers. He gave her hand a painful squeeze, and she schooled her features so as not to flinch. "Such a virtuous goddess to appear among such debauchery. One would think you would seek more tranquil places."

She summoned a smile. It hurt. "Sometimes one has to traverse hell in order to reach heaven."

Stephen was not smiling. Travers released her hand and turned, ignoring her completely for the rest of the conversation. This gave Audrey a chance to survey the hall. She'd have no better time to steal into St. John’s room. Travers’s thinly veiled hint implied that he would keep them both occupied.

Audrey excused herself to the ladies' retiring area and stepped down the hall, made a few turns, then casually walked up the stairs.

She tried to still her racing heart. This was a routine job. She had a perfectly secure place in her quiver to stash the papers. Stephen would never know.

A gaggle of women dressed as various Greek goddesses walked past her as she cleared the top step. Her luck was holding. If anyone asked about a Greek goddess, they would say they had seen her descending the stairs from the retiring room.

Audrey followed the maid’s directions and turned right. The fifth door on the left was locked. She removed one of the arrowheads and pulled out her picklock key.

The lock was not a challenge, and she had it open a few seconds later. She entered and closed the door behind her, relocking it to give her precious time in case someone tried to enter. Papers were stacked neatly on the dressing table. If her luck held, she’d be back downstairs before being missed.

She sifted through the papers until she found the ones Travers had demanded. Something about smuggling activities in Cornwall. She took the outer covering off of the quiver and rolled the papers inside. Snapping the cover back on, she slipped it around her shoulders and walked toward the door.

She froze as she watched the knob turn beneath her fingers. The only good place to hide was inside the wardrobe. The dark, closed wardrobe.

She didn’t have time to consider her decision or to face her fear when the door opened. Flattening herself against the wall behind the door, she held her breath and prayed. Maybe the person would leave before she was discovered. If not, she would have to incapacitate the intruder or feign an interest in a liaison.

A man stepped into the room and closed the door. Audrey’s breath let out in a whoosh when she saw him.

Stephen stood in front of her, his arms crossed. "I really wanted to believe you."

"I can explain."

He shook his head. "What is Travers to you?"

"Nothing, I just met him."

"I don't think so, Audrey." He lifted her hand, and looked at her wrist, where one of Travers’s fingers had strayed. His face was angry. "A man you barely know doesn’t leave marks when he touches you." He smoothed a gentle finger over the bruise. "The new assistant to the Exchequer and I are going to have a few words before the evening is through."

"No, Stephen." She snatched her hand away. She was a fast healer. If he had only waited a few more minutes, the angry red marks would have disappeared. "You are mistaken."

"I don't think so, Audrey," he repeated, and stepped closer, sliding a hand into the back of her hair and pulling her closer. "Why are you here in St.

John’s room? What message passed between you and Travers? Are you robbing St. John under his orders?"

"No." In all respects Stephen was getting too close. She stepped back, and his warm hand fell away. "I got lost on the way to the retiring room. The ladies must have meant the fifth room down the left hall."

"Audrey." His voice was soft. "What did you take?"

"Take?" She sputtered indignantly. "I got lost—"

"You’re telling me that you accidentally ended up in St. John's room after conveniently seeing that he and I were occupied? Is that your story?"

"Yes, it was an accident, and no, there was no 'conveniently' about it. "

"You asked for my help, but I wonder if this isn’t all some elaborate ploy in your grand theft scheme."

"No! How can you say that? I’m here because you invited me here tonight, not the other way around."

"You dishonored our agreement. You agreed to stop your illegal activities."

"Yes, as soon as our plan is set into motion. But it hasn’t yet begun." Her voice rose marginally.

"So now you are arguing semantics? You know damn well what I thought. Why should I trust you now?"

"My word is good."

"You haven't proven that to me yet."

"Damn it, this plan was put in motion long before our agreement."

Stephen latched on to the statement. "What was in motion? What are you doing?"

"Nothing!"

"For once, can’t you be honest with me? Even when you are caught, you continue to lie."

Audrey was horrified to feel tears prick the back of her eyes. "I—, I—, I can’t."

His eyes softened a bit, and he stepped forward. The look in his eyes further pricked her tears, and I she felt herself stepping forward too.

Loud voices travelled down the hall and stopped just outside of the door.

"Hurry."

Stephen grabbed her, opened the wardrobe, and threw her inside. The tears instantly transformed into panic. "Stephen, no, wait-"

He flung himself inside and pulled the doors closed just as the door to the room opened.

She was trapped. The walls were too close, too close.

"No, no, I can’t breathe," she gasped.

Why wouldn’t anyone help her? Couldn’t anyone hear her scream? No one to help you, no one to ever help . . .

Audrey was making confusing sounds. Her voice was barely a squeak.

But with two people standing outside their hiding place Stephen couldn’t take the chance of their being discovered.

He reached out a hand in warning as she continued to mutter incoherently She was cold and trembling. Stephen had the feeling that if he could see her eyes, they’d be glazed over. He gathered her into his arms. She shivered and whispered "breathe" against his shoulder. Time stood still.

He lost track of what was happening outside the wardrobe until she relaxed against him.

"Oh, that feels wonderful," a female voice sighed.

Stephen nearly groaned. St. John had taken no time in bringing one of the willing women to his room. He just hoped they were quick.

The noises from the bed amplified as the woman explicitly told St. John what she wanted him to do. No docile miss there.

Audrey’s arms twined around his neck, and she pressed herself against him. His body reacted from the contact. Nothing like some good old-fashioned torment to cap the day He massaged her back, making low, soothing noises. There was no way the boisterous couple was going to hear them even if he and Audrey started chatting about the weather.

"Yes! St. John, more!" The four-poster bed was bouncing and slamming as it connected with the wall.

A cramp formed in Stephen’s neck from bending over. Audrey's mouth pressed against the hollow at the base of his throat, and the cramp moved south. Her lips trailed the pulse at the side of his neck, then up and under his chin. Every part of his body and brain was on alert. He was already hunched over in the small space, and he only had to lower his head an inch to claim her lips.

His lips descended to meet hers. The first light kiss blazed into an inferno as their mouths fused. The smooth texture of her lips and her eager movements were driving him crazy. He lifted his hands to her nape and tried to be gentle. He wanted to devour her.

"Oh, yes, oh, more."

The voice was a cry inside his head and outside the wardrobe. Audrey's hands moved down his shirt and his moved down her back. The cries became incessant. Each word was punctuated with a bounce of the bed off the wall.

"My gads! Oh! This . . . is . . . the . . ." The woman sang a little note. It broke through the haze of sex that was descending upon Stephen, and he buried his face in Audrey’s hair to stifle the urge to continue. Her hair smelled of jasmine. He had to again remind himself not to take her in the wardrobe while another couple lay just outside.

The rustle of skirts and laughter penetrated the silence that had descended.

"Again?" A voice twittered.

Stephen felt like banging his head against the door. He willed St. John to leave. It was probably a waste of mental energy, but he was going to go mad if he had to stay in the wardrobe with Audrey’s soft curves molded against him. To his surprise, the viscount said something in a voice too low for him to hear, but the woman twittered again, and Stephen heard their footsteps leaving the room.

Stephen sent up a silent prayer of thanks.

Seconds after he heard the room door close he tentatively opened the wardrobe. The room was empty. He stepped out and drew Audrey after him.

Her eyes were wary, but there was something else there. Something positive.

She smoothed her hands down her costume and pinned some fallen tendrils of hair. When she spoke, her words were directed to his shoes.

"Thank you."

He lifted her chin and stroked her cheek. "We’ll talk later."

She nodded, and they headed for the door. No one was in the hall. He relocked the door, took her hand, and they descended the staircase to rejoin the party.

Travers was standing at the bottom of the stairs, but merely inclined his head and walked away. Stephen clenched his fist. He would deal with that ego-driven bastard just as he had in the past.

But first he had to figure out what was going on.

Audrey checked herself. Her panic had subsided, but the wild emotional remnants remained. Ever since being thrown into that rat-infested prison, she had troubles with dark, confined spaces.

Chalmers had calmed her down. Helped her get through the blind terror.

She owed him, yet when the time came, she would be forced to betray him. Audrey looked at the marble floor tiles. Never had she abhorred her life more.

"Audrey?"

She looked up. "Yes?"

"I’m going to get you a glass of champagne."

Anguish flowed through her at his kindness. "Thank you."

Stephen walked toward the refreshment area, and Audrey saw Travers watching her from the veranda. She walked toward him. Might as well get part of this mad mess over with. She made a display of showing him her quiver as she removed the papers.

He turned and shoved them into his jacket.

She was feeling maudlin and sarcastic. "No 'Good job, Audrey'? 'Nice work getting those documents'? Or, 'How are you tonight, Audrey dear?' "

Travers turned and yanked her closer. He gripped her wrist in the same spot he had previously marked. "What are you doing with him?"

Audrey tried to pull away without creating a scene. A few couples were sauntering along the terrace and into the gardens. "It’s a long story, you ass. Now let me go."

Travers narrowed his eyes. "You had better be nice to me. I’m the only thing standing between you and a dank cell. Chalmers will never help you."

He looked over her head and dropped her wrist. Audrey followed his gaze.