Scoundrel (28 page)

The certainty of her words sent a shaft of wariness down his spine. “It does?”

Lily nodded. “She could tell anyone that I was here tonight. Does she know about our plan?”

“I don’t think so.” He didn’t have the faintest idea what she was talking about.

Lily glanced toward one of the windows. “How far are we from the ground?”

“This is only the second story.” He spoke slowly, trying to comprehend her train of thought. “Not terribly far, I should think.”

“Pity.” She turned and slid the door bolt into place. “Not high enough.”

“Here now,” Patricia sputtered, sitting up to secure her robe. “What are you two about?”

Lily walked toward the bed, her voice quiet. “You haven’t guessed?” She stopped a few paces away and looked at Remmington. “She will guess eventually. Or Farnsworth will tell her when she spills the story to him, and then he’ll go straight to Holybrook. We will never pull it off.”

“You may be right.” He hoped that was the correct response even as he tried to guess where this was leading, to imagine what outrageous thing she would say next. He shook his head and gave up.

Lily began to pace the floor between the door and the bed. “What about those pirates you hired to make off with the mummy?”

“Mummy?” Patricia shrieked. “You’re going to steal the mummy?”

Remmington turned away from the bed so Patricia wouldn’t see his smile. It had no effect on Lily. She gave him a grave look. “You see? I told you she would guess. Everyone knows the value of a mummy. Once we grind it into powder, it will be worth even more. Think of it, Remmington. That powder will fetch a thousand guineas per ounce in Calcutta. Perhaps more. Those Indian dervishes will pay anything for that rare aphrodisiac.” She nodded toward the bed. “I say we have the pirates take care of her. You said yourself that the one who wears black with the red sash is handy with a knife.”

Remmington rubbed his chin. “I had no idea you would involve me in such foul, devilish deeds, you wicked creature. You promised me this wouldn’t come to murder, Lady Lillian.”

“Well, now,” she said with a grin, “it seems I lied.”

“
No
!” Patricia leaped off the bed and made a mad dash for the door, skirting a wide path around Lily and Remmington.

Lily advanced on her with stealthy grace as Patricia fumbled with the door bolt. Her voice was low and soothing, the tone one would use to lure a wild animal into captivity. “You aren’t going anywhere, Lady Farnsworth. If you will just step away from the door—”

Patricia finally managed to wrench the door open as Lily reached for her arm. She disappeared into the hallway with one last small shriek. Lily closed the door and drove the bolt back into place.

“What a bothersome woman. I cannot help but wonder what you ever saw in her.”

He stared at her for a long moment as his mind worked to absorb the events of the last few minutes. “Lily. What have you done?”

She raised her brows into that guileless, innocent expression he remembered from their days at his town house. “Salvaged both our reputations, I should think.”

“Salvaged them?” He shook his head. “How can you believe our reputations are salvaged? We will either be labeled illicit lovers, or murdering thieves. Or both.”

“I don’t think so.” She patted a stray hair into place, looking completely unconcerned. “Do you think anyone will believe Lady Farnsworth’s tale? Really, Remmington. You, a thief? It is too fantastic. If she tells anyone about the mummy part, they will probably sedate her.”

He stalked over to Lily and placed his hands on her shoulders. For the first time, she looked worried.

“Are you terribly angry?” she whispered.

“Angry? Am I angry?” he repeated. He thew his head back and laughed as he hadn’t laughed in years. He dropped his forehead to her shoulder and half collapsed against her, then he laughed more. At length he recovered himself enough to enlighten her. “Ah, my fierce little Tiger Lily. I am amazed by your incredible imagination.”

“For a moment, I thought you were going to be cross,” she muttered. He lifted his head to look into her eyes and she finally grinned. “It was rather clever for spur of the moment, don’t you think?”

“It was brilliant!” He felt the laughter rolling up from inside him once again. “Lord, I will
never
forget the expression on Patricia’s face. You played your part flawlessly.”

“You once said I was no actress,” she reminded him, with a delicate sniff. Her haughty expression was ruined by a smile.

“The ladies of Drury Lane will quake in their slippers if they ever hear of this,” he predicted. “How did you ever think up such an outrageous tale?”

She shrugged the compliment aside. “I’ve no idea. It just came to me. But don’t be modest, my lord. You deserve half the credit. I thought you played your part rather well.” Holding the back of her hand to her forehead, she gave him a theatrical flutter of her lashes. Her voice was a ridiculously high imitation of his own. ” ‘Really, Lady Lillian. I had no idea you would involve me in your foul, devilish deeds, you wicked creature.’ Nicely done, Remmington. I have high hopes for your acting abilities. You will need them to remain straight-faced tomorrow when we are accused of these dastardly crimes.”

He wrapped his arms around her waist. “I am but a bit player in this farce. I will be happy to take my cues from you.”

Staring into her eyes he felt his humor fade away, replaced by an emotion just as elemental. The magic of her smile made him forget his resolve, made him forget everything but the joy of holding her in his arms. What was he doing? He knew what he wanted to do. He stepped away as if she’d burned him. “We’d best have our discussion before anyone else shows up. My room seems entirely too popular tonight.”

Lily winced as if he’d struck her. She thrust her hands into the pockets of her robe and backed up several steps toward the fireplace. “I… well, I’ve thought a lot about a question you asked me the night of Lady Keaton’s party, and I’ve come to a decision.”

“What question would that be?” He felt certain he didn’t want to hear about anything he’d asked her that night, and equally certain that he would not like her decision. He was right.

“Just before you escorted me to my door, you asked if we might be friends.” Her explanation sounded rushed, as if she couldn’t say the words fast enough. “You must know that I enjoy your company, and I realize now that what I feel for you is indeed friendship. Nothing more. I wanted to apologize for making you believe any differently.”

For a moment he didn’t believe her. His gaze searched her face, looking for an expression in her eyes that no longer existed. He’d finally done it. He’d driven her away.

He sat down abruptly on the bed, unable to think of anything to say. In another month, Sebastian Lacroix would come to England to propose to her. He seemed a decent enough sort, and there was no question that he and Lily had much in common. Lacroix would make her happy. He tried to picture her in Lacroix’s arms and couldn’t. Wouldn’t. He could not bear the thought of watching another man touch her. Yet he would continue to smuggle messages between them, knowing they would likely contain the endearments he wanted to say to her. What gave Lacroix the right to take Lily from him in the first place?

“If I haven’t tried your patience too sorely,” she went on, “I hope that we may still be friends.”

He shook his head. “I do not think that will be possible, Lily.”

She looked dismayed by his refusal. “It does not seem all that impossible to me. You said yourself we could be friends.”

“And you said that your definition of the word ‘friend’ varies greatly from mine.” He stood up and closed the distance between them in three long strides. He braced one hand against the mantel behind her and leaned down until their faces were only inches apart. Her eyes were very wide, sherry-colored pools of curiosity and uncertainty. He knew instinctively that she didn’t fear him. He knew just as surely that she should. “As it turns out, you were right.”

Lily realized his intent the moment his arm circled her waist and she tried to twist away from him. Failing in that attempt, she braced herself against the fierce intent she saw in his eyes, the punishing kiss he would surely give her. It never came. He held her firmly against his chest with one arm, and his hand cradled her face.

“Lily.” He breathed her name with an aching reverence that left her stunned. “What am I to do with you?”

The gleam she saw in his eyes didn’t come from anger, but from deep, burning desire. Her body reacted instantly to the knowledge. She unclenched her fists and flattened her palms against the smooth satin of his robe, feeling the strength of his chest, the hard, steady beat of his heart beneath her hands. She felt her own pulse quicken as his lips parted and he lowered his head to touch his mouth to hers. He hesitated, then his mouth brushed very slowly over her lips, once, twice, and again, a silent question, an unspoken invitation. Her defenses began to crumble. She could hear his question as clearly as if he spoke it aloud, yet doubt made her hesitate. Could she accept the terms of his friendship? The consequences? If she refused him now, would he ever make the offer again? Would she spend the rest of her life wondering what she’d missed, regretting a wondrous experience that she could only imagine? She knew he cared for her in his own way. For her, there could never be another.

She brushed the answer across his lips, a response just as hesitant, a touch just as uncertain. She accepted his invitation without speaking a word. His hand cupped the back of her head and he fit his mouth to hers, a perfect seal to their silent bargain. He savored her slowly, sweetly, drowning her in one consuming wave of desire after another. His tongue touched her lips in unexpected darts that created keen anticipation of when and where he would strike next. Her lips parted and he delved deeper, a languid, sensual exploration. At last his lips slid away from hers to the curve of her ear, his voice deep with desire. “Breathe, Lily.”

She released a gasp when his teeth closed painlessly over the lobe, and only then realized she’d held her breath too long. The sound of his breathing seemed to come from inside her head, the effect dizzying and disorienting. Her legs began to weaken at the same time he leaned over to lift her into his arms. She laced her arms around his neck and tilted her head back for another soul-stirring kiss.

His lips broke away from hers when he placed her on the bed, and she felt a moment of panic, then an indescribable excitement when his weight settled on top of her. The searing kiss that followed made her oblivious to all but the delicious warmth that coursed through her body. He urged her to touch him, guided her hand beneath the lapels of his dressing gown to press her palm against his chest. His hand smoothed over her shoulder, down her arm, then around her waist and lower to her hip, then a slow return upward across her ribs until his hand was sliding across her breast, cupping it, gently squeezing.

Lily felt as if she’d touched lightning. Her arms twined around his neck and she strained against him, pressing herself closer to his hard body, yet unable to get close enough. He probed her mouth with his tongue and she made a thrust of her own, discovering an astonishing sense of power, an instinctive knowledge that she moved close to some unnamed goal. He eased his knee between her legs and she discovered a new torment.

Summoning the dwindling reserves of his control, Remmington forced himself to break off the kiss, to lift his lips a breath away from hers. “Say that you want me, Lily, that I am not forcing you into this.”

She hesitated for seven heartbeats. They were the longest seven heartbeats of his life. “I want you.”

“Say my name,” he coaxed. He placed small, measured kisses around her mouth. “I want to hear my given name on your lips.”

“Miles,” she whispered. “I want you, Miles.”

Their gazes met and this time she let him see her soul, the innocence and longing she’d somehow masked. This time he couldn’t gentle the kiss, or keep any of his fierce, possessive desire for her from his embrace. She responded with the same abandon, offering herself completely, melting beneath him, all warmth and welcoming desire against his hard body. She suddenly grew still beneath him. He didn’t know if it was the shock of realizing his intent that made her eyes widen in alarm, or the insistent knock on the door.

The knock repeated itself before he gathered his wits enough to interpret the sound. With a soft curse, he rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. Desire seeped from every pore of his body. He ached with it. What he needed to ease that ache lay within his reach, within his power to possess. His hands fisted at his sides. Was he truly so desperate? Christ. Did he really want to make love to her while someone pounded on his door?

He was vaguely aware of Lily sitting up next to him, but he concentrated on a crack in the plaster ceiling. “If that is Patricia Farnsworth again, I say we toss her from the window.”

“This is no time for jokes,” she whispered, with a frantic nudge at his knee. “Get Up! Help me find a place to hide.”

He regarded her from beneath an arched brow. “Why on earth should you hide?”

“Stop your teasing, Miles. And lower your voice. My reputation will be in shreds if I’m found here.”

She probably wasn’t even aware that she spoke his name, but the sound of
it
pleased him anyway. He turned onto his side and propped himself up on one elbow. Lily’s hair was still braided, but it was delightfully tousled. Her lips were swollen, too. Anyone who looked at her now would know exactly what they’d been doing, or what they’d been about to do. He couldn’t believe she’d suggested they be friends. They were meant to be lovers. He wouldn’t deny the inevitable any longer.