One Naughty Night2 (23 page)

Even when he did that, it wasn’t enough. It was never enough.

Aidan shifted on the chaise and held her as she murmured in her sleep. He knew they couldn’t stay there long; even now he could hear the masquerade ball growing louder downstairs. But Lily had looked so tired and weary. He wanted to hold her for a few more minutes and let her rest, even if
his
body was on fire with lust.

He studied her in the glow of gaslight coming from outside the window. Her face was as pale and still as marble as she slept, and her dark hair fell in loose curls over her neck. Her gown fell away from her shoulders, the shadowed hollows of her throat and collarbone making her look so fragile.

What was it about her that had such a hold on him? Aidan wondered. Yes, she was pretty, but London was full of beautiful women, many of whom were happy to chase after a ducal connection. She was frighteningly smart, and intriguingly mysterious. Her body drew his like a witchcraft spell. But somehow he knew, in these quiet moments when they were alone and her guard was down, that it was more than sex.

He wound a long strand of her hair around his wrist and remembered the flashing look of trust in her eyes when she agreed to let him help her. When she let him glimpse the past she kept so hidden. Never would he have thought Lily St. Claire would
trust
him. Never would he have thought he would earn her trust.

Women came to him for pleasure, but never for shelter or strength. They liked his good looks, his name, what he could do for them in bed. But Lily needed more, and he found that intoxicating.

He just couldn’t let himself come to need her in return. He didn’t need anyone at all anymore.

Aidan dropped his head back to stare up at the glow of light on the ceiling. He thought of Lily’s tale of the St. Claire woman and the Huntington man whose passion had torn them apart. It was no wonder her brothers hated him, if they had grown up with the knowledge that his family had once done their best to destroy theirs. Aidan, of course, knew nothing of those people. A family with as much power as his crushed many in their wake, and they seldom remembered it.

It was another very good reason not to trust whatever it was he felt when Lily lay in his arms like this. Caring too much, needing too much—it destroyed people. This was just lust, or perhaps the need to feel like the white knight and not the rogue for once in his life. That was all. Soon enough it would fade, and he would go back to his old ways.

But first he would make sure Lily was safe. And the only way he could do that was to find and destroy Tom Beaumont. That he
could
do. He didn’t have connections in every part of London for nothing.

Aidan heard a loud crashing noise from downstairs, a shriek of laughter, and he knew their stolen moments of peace grew short. He sat up slowly, careful not to wake Lily yet, and raked his hair back from his face. His gaze fell on her desk, and he remembered he had another task here, one he had almost forgotten in the whirlwind that had been his time with Lily.

He needed to find Freddy Bassington’s letters. She had them somewhere, or else she had destroyed them. He had to find out, to set his friend’s mind at ease.

Aidan studied Lily’s sleeping face. He didn’t know why she kept Freddy’s letters. Blackmail didn’t seem to be her style at all. Perhaps she, like him, couldn’t trust in people’s finer intentions. Most people had none. It was safer to have something tangible to hold against them, if necessary. Aidan didn’t want to see Lily hurt again, but he couldn’t let poor, romantic Freddy be hurt either. Slowly, so as not to wake Lily, he slid off the chaise and went to the desk.

Lily heard a soft click and sat up with a gasp as she was torn out of sleep. For an instant, she couldn’t remember where she was or what was happening. She didn’t know what woke her. But then she remembered she was in her office, where she had just made love with Aidan. She rubbed her hand over her eyes and looked around her darkened office, still half asleep.

To her shock, she found Aidan standing behind her desk. One of the drawers was half open, and he watched her with a startled, wary look in his eyes.

“What are you doing?” she asked. A cold feeling swept
over her, and she knew she didn’t want to hear the answer. She swung her legs off the chaise and started to gather her clothes. “What are you looking for?”

She heard Aidan close the drawer and lean his hands on her desk. He didn’t say anything, and when Lily looked at him, his face was a cool blank.

“What are you doing?” she said again fiercely.

Aidan shook his head. “What exactly do you want from Freddy Bassington, Lily?”

Freddy Bassington?
Whatever Lily had expected and feared, it wasn’t that. She hadn’t even thought of Freddy in so long and had almost forgotten the packet of his silly letters she had tucked away at home.

She sat very still. “How do you know Freddy Bassington?” she said. “And what does he have to do with you going through my desk?”

“He is a friend of mine,” Aidan said quietly. “He came to me not long ago full of remorse for sending you some letters.”

So that was what this was about. Lily felt cold and so, so foolish. She had become fascinated with Aidan, and all he was after were his friend’s letters.

“And that’s why you came to me? To get Freddy’s silly letters back?” Lily was so furious she couldn’t look up—furious with herself and with Aidan. She wanted to throw something at him, shout at him, but all she could do was stare at the floor.

“Of course not, Lily,” Aidan said. He sounded far too calm. “It’s not like that at all. He merely asked if I could find out about his letters, what had happened to them. I said I would try. He is my friend, after all.”

“And I am merely your lover!” Lily’s anger finally
escaped in a shriek. She scooped up her slipper from the floor and tossed it at him. He easily ducked out of the way. “So he knows about us? Who else knows?”

“No one knows. Lily, stop that. Look at me.” Through her haze of anger, she heard him come around the desk. His arms closed around her hard, pinning her arms to her sides. He held her against him too easily as she struggled.

He didn’t even let go when she gave up and slumped in his grasp.

“I knew better than to ever trust a man, no matter how handsome and kind he might appear,” she said. “That’s why I kept Freddy’s letters, to make sure he stayed away and ceased his silliness. But with you, Aidan Huntington, I have no excuse. You never even tried to appear harmless. I just…”

I can’t stay away from you.
The words she couldn’t say aloud haunted her. She closed her eyes and twisted out of his arms to slump down wearily on the chaise.

“Please, Aidan, just go,” she whispered. She wanted to be alone before she curled up into a ball and lost all her pride.

She sensed Aidan hesitate behind her. “I never meant you harm, Lily,” he said, and she felt him press a kiss to her hair. “I wish you could believe that, trust it.”

“I don’t know how to trust,” she said. “Go, Aidan. Just… go.” She felt like she would shatter if he didn’t leave.

“Fine. I will go now,” he said. “Because you ask it of me. But I will be back. This is not over, Lily.”

Lily kept her eyes closed until she heard the door click shut behind him. Only then did she let out a sob and fall back onto the chaise. She had been such a fool.

L
ady Sophia Huntington carefully studied the cards in her hand. Not a bad hand, but not as good as she would like either. Her usual good luck at the card table wasn’t with her tonight.

Or maybe she was distracted.

Sophia peeked over the edge of the cards to study the man across from her through the beaded eyeholes of her mask. Dominic St. Claire. She knew it was him, even though he, too, wore a mask, a swath of stark black silk over his chiseled face. No one else she had ever seen had hair quite that shade of pure, molten gold, or such fine shoulders under his perfectly tailored coat. His eyes, the deep, pure green of summer leaves, gazed back at her steadily, making something flutter nervously deep inside of her.

No wonder her parents didn’t like her going to the theater, she thought wryly. One glimpse of such a godlike being onstage and she wouldn’t be able to bear her pompous, pale, parentally approved suitors any longer.

And he was wrecking her concentration at cards as well. She definitely couldn’t have that. Not when she had
finally been able to escape her family’s guard and sneak into the Devil’s Fancy using her cousin Bill’s invitation. It would be hard to come back again, so she would have to make the most of this evening.

But she might have tried harder to come here a little sooner if she had known Dominic was one of the owners. She had thought about him far too much ever since that glimpse in the park.

“Well, madam?” he asked, in his deep, smooth actor’s voice. A small smile played over his lips, which were surprisingly full and sensual for a man.

Sophia, who was such a good card player in part because she had become adept at reading people’s faces, couldn’t fathom what that smile meant at all. Did he hold a good hand?

Or was he flirting with her?

Sophia looked back down at her cards. “Two more, please.”

Dominic took two cards from the deck and slid them across the small, red-draped table to her. He had beautiful hands, the skin smooth and faintly bronzed and dusted with pale blond hair, and his tapering fingers were made for theatrical gestures on a stage or for wielding a sword.

Or tracing a soft touch over a woman’s skin, which she had heard he was quite adept at doing.

Sophia forced down an instinctive shiver at the vision of his hand on her body and forced herself to forget he was there, so close, watching her. She had just wagered the last of her quarterly allowance, and she couldn’t afford to lose her focus now. She slowly turned over the new cards and almost sighed.

Luck was really not with her tonight.

She laid out her cards on the table, hoping against hope his hand was worse. That faint hope died when he revealed his own cards, and he had her beat by several points.

“You win again, sir,” she said with another sigh. “It seems Lady Luck favors a sinfully handsome scoundrel as much as the next woman.”

Dominic laughed, and the emerald sparkle in his eyes almost made it worth losing.

Almost. Sophia needed that money.

“Forgive me, madam,” he said. He gathered the scattered cards from across the table and lazily shuffled them back into the deck. “I take no pleasure in disobliging a lady. Shall we play again? Lady Luck is often fickle.”

Sophia shook her head regretfully. She longed to play again and try to get back that money. It was what so often led her into trouble, the obsessive thought that with the next hand her luck would surely turn. Equally bitter was the thought that now she would lose Dominic’s company. She had never enjoyed losing at cards so much as with him.

But she had nothing left to wager. She wore her grandmother’s diamond and onyx earrings, necklace, and hair clips to go with her black satin gown, and her mother would definitely notice if they were gone.

“I’m done for the evening, sir,” she said. “But I confess I’ve never enjoyed losing quite so much. It’s no wonder your club is so successful.”

His head tilted slightly as he studied her, his green eyes growing darker. “And how do you know I own this club?”

Sophia smiled and leaned closer to him, resting her arms on the table as she reached out to smooth one
fingertip over a lost card. Oh, yes, he did bring out a spirit of the devil in her. “Oh, I know a great deal about you.”

“That’s hardly fair, is it?” he said, laughter lurking in his voice. Laughter and something darker, something she couldn’t read. “I know nothing about you, except that you are a fierce opponent at the card table.”

His fingers slid over her hand. It was a light touch, teasing, testing, his skin cool through her lace gloves. But Sophia felt like fire had just licked along her arm, burning and shocking. She had to force herself to stay still and not jerk away and run screaming from the salon. She had never felt anything like it. It was almost… frightening.

She touched the tip of her tongue to her dry lips as his hand slid away. “Wh-what do you want to know?”

He suddenly frowned, as if a shadow passed over his face. “Everything.”

Something seemed to sizzle in the air between them. Sophia couldn’t look away from him. The game, which had started out so light and fun, such a dare, had become something so much more. It had become something she didn’t understand at all.

She had wanted to see Dominic St. Claire tonight. Something had driven her to seek him out after she had seen him at the park and felt so strangely drawn to him. But now… now she felt afraid of what he awoke in her.

And Sophia was never afraid.

“Come with me,” Dominic said. He rose to his feet, his gilded chair scraping back over the parquet floor, and took her hand in his. His smooth, polished, charming manners suddenly took on a raw edge, and it was as if she were glimpsing the feral power under his poetical beauty. And it made her even more afraid.

Yet she couldn’t pull her hand away. She couldn’t turn and run as she longed to. Something in her bound her to his touch. He was so very different from everything she had ever known, every convention her parents pushed onto her, every safe suitor and narrow expectation. Something in him called out to the secret darkness within her that always brought her to places like the Devil’s Fancy, to card tables and deep play.

Something in him was the same as in her. She had that terrible certainty as she looked up into his forest-green eyes. And she let him take her hand and lead her through the crowded salon.

The hour grew late, and champagne had been flowing freely, driving the laughter louder and louder. Ladies leaned on their escort’s shoulders as they watched the roulette wheel spin wildly, and she could hear music from the ballroom. But it was nothing to her, a mere echo. The only real thing was Dominic’s hand on hers. What was she doing?