Devil in My Bed (9 page)

So much for the secrets of men.

Aidan opened the door nearest the stair. Madeleine leaned forward curiously. What would Aidan’s quarters tell her about Aidan?

There was a spacious sitting room with a grand window. Light streamed in over a carpet of subdued blues and danced upon the few furnishings. She saw a tufted velvet sofa of deep blue and a wingback chair of brown leather. A round rosewood table with four chairs held court near the window. It was a comfortable room, if a bit severe.

Then flash of red caught her eye, pulling her attention through a door on the far wall that opened into a bedchamber. Her brows rose at the picture of lush brocade bed draperies woven of a rich, decadent crimson silk that was framed by the open doorway. The matching coverlet lay sensuously rumpled on the huge bed, naughtily offering a peek at snow-white sheets so fine they might have been made of silk as well.

My goodness. It’s the bed of a rakehell!

Madeleine made a tiny sound of protest as Aidan thrust her into his room, but that died away the moment she saw the tiny person sitting on the lap of another fellow, one nearly as attractive as Aidan, if one liked one’s fellows fair-haired and splendidly gorgeous. As handsome as he was, he paled in comparison to the black-ringleted angel perched on his knee.

Aidan’s child. Baby-soft hair as dark as his, wide eyes in a slightly easier shade of blue, long dark lashes, and a stubborn little chin . . .

Aidan’s child, perhaps, but never hers.

Aidan left Madeleine’s side to kneel before the little girl. “Melody, my dear, this lady is—”

Oh no. I lied. Don’t say it, don’t tell her—

The truth compelled her to open her mouth but the danger outside kept her silent.

“This lady is your mother.”

Big baby eyes blinked up at her slowly. Madeleine held very still. Even her breath halted. Surely a child would know its mother, wouldn’t it? Yet how did she know? What did she know of children, other than having been one an eternity ago?

The two men were obviously waiting for her to fall upon her knees and clasp the small, confused person to her bosom.

So sorry, gentlemen, but you see, I lied.

Yet even through her discomfort, she could feel the safety of Brown’s enclosing her like a warm coat, shielding her from the cold rain of discovery.

I lied, but if you could see your way to allowing me to stay anyway . . .

It was wrong to lie, but the deed was done. The child had been presented and now waited with somber eyes to see what her “mother” would do. It would be a worse sin to let this moment pass without reassuring the wee thing.

That’s what Madeleine told herself as she slowly knelt before the little girl, who stood not much higher than her knee. “Hello, Melody.”

“Hello . . .” The child trailed off and glanced up at Aidan for guidance.

“Mother,” he prompted.

Melody looked doubtfully back at Madeleine. She, for one, seemed less easily convinced. Smart child.

“M—”

No, it was too much, even for Madeleine’s begrimed soul. “Maddie,” she filled in for the child. She settled down on her heels, her hands in her lap. “That will do for the start.”

She felt Aidan’s flinch more than she saw it. “Maddie” had once been his pet name for her, one that no one else had ever used, not even her father. Even Aidan had only used it in tender, intimate moments.

Toward the end he’d taken to whispering it into her hair when he thought her asleep. Be mine forever, Maddie.

“Maddie,” repeated Melody with a nod. She and Madeleine eyed each other for a long moment. Then Melody stepped forward to wrap her little arms about Madeleine’s neck.

The small, warm body trustingly fitted itself to hers. Unexpected tears sprang to Madeleine’s eyes. She closed them tightly as she carefully enclosed the child in her arms. A grunt of satisfaction came from Aidan’s general direction.

Yes, Aidan. Everything is wrapped up and orderly, in its proper place.

That man truly needed to unwind.

“Well,” Colin said brightly, “now that Mrs. Chandler is here, I suppose we are off nurse duty.”

Madeleine looked up at him. “I don’t see why. I know nothing about children.”

Colin eyed her strangely. “Except for bearing them, of course.”

Ah. Right. “Yes, of course.” Blast it, it looked as if she was going to have to pay for her keep then. No matter. Anything was better than the cold world outside, the one that contained Critchley.

Exhaling briskly, she sat back and held Melody at arm’s length. “Well, first of all, let’s get that hair properly braided, shall we?”

Melody nodded soberly. “Uncle Aidan mucked it.”

Madeleine bit down on her lip. “Indeed, he certainly mangled it.”

“Mangled it,” Melody repeated carefully. “He bloody mangled it.”

“Told you,” Colin muttered.

Aidan cleared his throat sharply. “I think it’s time for Melody’s nap.”

Colin stared at him. “It’s but an hour past breakfast.”

Madeleine stood. “Never mind. Melody and I shall freshen up, shall we?” She held out her hand and felt that same warm glow when the tiny one fitted into hers.

“I already went,” Melody confided in a loud stage whisper as they passed into the bedchamber. “But you can use my chamber pot. It’s blue.”

Madeleine tried not to hear the muffled snickers behind her. Sir Colin was going to be a handful, she could tell. She wasn’t even sure who he was. Aidan had spoken of his friend Jack a few times, but she couldn’t recall a single mention of Colin. Perhaps he was a later addition to Aidan’s circle.

Aidan watched his new family disappear into the bedchamber and gazed at the closed door for a long, strange moment. Family.

“I’m going to have to marry her.”

Colin lifted a brow. “Have to? Wasn’t there a time when you wanted nothing more?”

Aidan worked his jaw. “Old news. Things have changed. Damn it.”

“You seem disappointed. Did you have someone else in mind?”

No, there was no one else. There never had been and Aidan had begun to fear that there might never be. He removed his surcoat and tossed it over the back of his chair. He pulled at his cravat. Everything he wore seemed to confine him and restrict his breathing. He threw himself into the chair and buried his hands in his hair. “Damn it.”

Colin snorted. “Such theatrics. What’s the difficulty? You needn’t wed for money or property, anyway.

She seems likely enough. Pretty, if you like the type. A bit lean, but get her with child again and she’ll plump right up.”

With child. For an instant the vision tempted Aidan. She must have been so beautiful. He could picture her glowing, smiling softly and secretly the way women did when they were carrying.

And he could imagine getting her that way . . .

Having Madeleine in his bed forever, belonging to him at last? Soft, sweetly giving Maddie, with her warmth and breathless passion, twining her limbs about him, twining his heart in knots, binding him to her until he couldn’t breathe without her, tearing him mercilessly to bits while she uttered that false, tinkling laugh—

“Damn it!”

“You’re repeating yourself. It shows a lack of imagination.” Colin looked skeptically at the bedchamber door. “Besides, I thought we agreed she must be Jack’s.”

“Probably isn’t definitely.”

“But this woman . . . why wouldn’t she simply tell you?”

“Because . . .” Because I walked away. I insulted her and told her never to contact me. Because my pride forced me out the door and never allowed me to look back. “Because we didn’t end on good terms.”

“Meaning you were an ass, of course.”

“Of course,” came a husky contralto voice from the bedchamber doorway.

Aidan reluctantly turned to look at her, knowing he would see that damned teasing glint in her eye.

However, her gaze was dark and somber. She lifted her chin as she took two steps into the room. “Then again, he wasn’t the only ass that day.”

Aidan swallowed back a sharp rejoinder. Her admission was as good as an apology—and all that he was likely to get from his stubborn, bloody-minded Madeleine.

Not yours, boyo.

Yes. Mine. Whether she likes it or not.

Still, he hesitated to make his wedding plans clear. Whether he was wary of being rejected again or simply giving everyone time to adjust was not a question he truly wanted to ask himself. Suffice to say he needed some time.

Melody galloped into the room, using the bedchamber fire broom for a horse. Her little hands were black with soot and so was her only pinafore. She circled the room, enthusiastically giving out a creditable neigh.

Aidan felt his shoulders sag. Even Colin moaned slightly. “But we just got her clean.”

Madeleine looked defensive. “Well, it isn’t as though these chambers hold a fully supplied nursery,” she snapped. “If she’s happy with a knotted neckcloth and an ash broom, I think you two ought to count yourselves fortunate!”

Colin stiffened. “We’ve done bloody well so far!”

“Bloody!” Melody caroled the vulgarity sweetly as she spun in a wobbly circle that sent hobbyhorse ash in an arc through the air to sift gently down to the carpet. “Bloody, bloody, bloody!”

Madeleine folded her arms and raised a brow. “Oh my, yes. Such admirable fathers both.”

Sir Colin snickered, but Aidan only glared. Madeleine ignored both reactions and put on a polite face.

“Now, would one of you gentlemen mind showing me to my room?”

An awkward silence fell. The only sound was the thumpity-thump of Melody’s little boots as she galloped her hobbyhorse back into the bedchamber. Madeleine looked from Aidan to Sir Colin.

Sir Colin snickered. “Good lord, is that the time?” Three steps later he was gone, the door closing decidedly on the tension in the room. As far as Madeleine could see, there were no clocks in sight.

That did not bode well. She faced Aidan straight on. “My lord, where precisely shall I be staying at Brown’s?” She had a very bad feeling she knew the answer. He wouldn’t dare, would he?

“You are staying here,” Aidan informed Madeleine stiffly, “in these rooms, with Melody . . . and with me.”

He would dare, it seemed. Chilly apprehension warred with undeniable warmth inside her.

He wants you still.

Not bloody likely. She lifted her chin. “I don’t see why that is necessary. You have arranged Melody’s right to be here. Why can you not do the same for me?”

He flushed slightly and turned away, seating himself in the large chair by the fire—the king assuming his throne. “Melody appeared on the doorstep only yesterday. I cannot take her to my address in town, nor can I excuse myself from the House sessions just yet. Her existence here is temporary, as is yours—”

Goodness, that sounded rather dire. “—and for the moment it is . . . well . . . a secret.”

Madeleine took her bottom lip between her teeth as she considered that. “So you intend to hide your secret baby and your secret ex-mistress in a gentlemen’s club on St. James?”

He looked over his shoulder at her with a slight twist to his lips and that particular gleam in his eyes—

the one that meant she was overstepping. It always stirred a devilish bit of her that couldn’t help but push further. “Or am I to be mistress once again?”

He turned his body more fully toward her and leaned back in the chair at an angle, stretching his arms and then twining his fingers behind his head as he gazed at her. He looked big and masculine, composed, but still somehow poised to spring into motion. His body fascinated her still, for who but she knew what lay beneath those perfectly tailored coats and well-fitted breeches?

His other lover.

Well, yes. Still, she didn’t think he’d been all that active a player. Men such as that became notorious, even to women who could only afford to read the gossip sheets they found drifting in the streets. That wasn’t to say he could not have had a discreet affair in the past few years. A man like him . . . a man with shoulders twice as broad as hers that tapered to slim hips and long, muscular legs that led up to a hard, muscular—

Right. She was trying to make a point. Fighting her own speeding pulse, she dragged the memory of the last words said from her memory. Hmm, best ignore that remark about mistresses . . .

“I must admit,” she said casually, “it is the last place anyone would look.” Including Critchley. She might be mad for going along with this—but in its very madness it was brilliant. “I take it I shall not have the run of the club, then?”

He had the decency to look a little embarrassed at last. “We cannot let the staff know you are here. I do intend to arrange alternative accommodations as soon as . . .”

She narrowed her eyes. “Do be specific, my lord.”

He hardened his jaw as he stood to face her again. “As soon as I am sure you can be trusted with Melody’s welfare,” he growled. “You have not shown a natural maternity thus far.”

Despite the ludicrous nature of the accusation, considering that she had been a mother for precisely a quarter of an hour, Madeleine was offended. “Says the man who found his child yesterday morning!”

She strode up to him. “Tell me, Papa Bear, how is your paternity faring so far? Giving a bath and tying a knot doll hardly qualify you to judge!”

Oh no. She was too close. He towered over her, his broad shoulders blocking the light. For a moment she was back in bed with him, covered by him, impaled upon him, wrapped around him as she shivered helplessly in the throes of yet another orgasm.

Shoulders like that could shelter a woman for the rest of her life—if she was mad enough to lie and cheat and sell her soul to get them.

No. She must not stand where she could feel him, where she could breathe him in, where she could reach out to touch him so easily.

Step away. Move.

She did so, one painful step at a time. Turning away, she forced her feet to carry her to the opposite side of the room. “How . . .” Get your mind off those shoulders, you idiot! She cleared her throat. “How shall Melody and I get on? If the staff is not to know we’re here, who will bring our meals?”

Even as she spoke she restlessly picked up a child’s jumper that was crumpled in a corner of the settee.