Seduce Me (31 page)

“I fear the Raven has lost his mind,” Fielding said.

“I believe he’s going after Her Majesty,” Esme said.

“The queen? He’d have to be mad. He’ll be killed if he tries to get anywhere near her,” Fielding said.

“Fielding, he is mad.” She shook her head. “That bracelet, the one Thatcher was wearing, it carries the curse of greed. You
should have seen him. He was out of control. I realize I’d only met him once before, but that night in the carriage, he was
cold, yes, but calm, completely steady. Earlier tonight, though, he was erratic, impulsive; it had to have been the effect
of the bracelet. He’s already killed two people; what would stop him from aiming for the queen?”

“I don’t know, but something doesn’t fit. There would be no purpose in killing her. That would get him nothing. He only pursues
things that will bring him something in return—wealth, power.”

The Raven had gone after one of his own men, shown him no mercy, and brutally murdered him. Had Fielding not arrived, what
would have happened to Esme? He squeezed her tight to his side.

“You gave him the box, didn’t you?” she asked. “Traded it for my safety.”

“I couldn’t risk him harming you,” Fielding said, his own voice sounding fierce and raw. “Esme, he will always be able to
use you to get to me. I can’t allow that. You’ll never be safe.”

She leaned over and kissed his cheek, then his mouth. “I’m safe now,” she murmured. Then she kissed him again, holding nothing
back.

God, how he wanted this woman. And he’d almost lost her. The thought squeezed at his throat, threatening to steal his breath.
He cradled her face in his palms and deepened the kiss.

She broke it off and met his eyes. “When this curse is removed”—she gripped the bracelet—“if we can get it off in time, you
will finally be able to see me as the woman I truly am. I want—”

“I know you believe I’ve been under some kind of spell,” he interrupted. “Esme, there is nothing false about the desire I
feel for you.”

He pulled her to him. His mouth met hers in a hungry kiss, and he forgot all about curses and bracelets and quests. In that
moment there was only Esme. Pure, sweet, hot, lovely Esme.

His hand dipped into the front of her bodice and found her nipple. She was safe, and in this moment, she was his.

She cried out and arched against him. “Oh, Fielding.”

His hand continued to rub at the aching nub all the while he nibbled on her collarbone. Her bodice dipped low, and in an instant
his mouth was on her breast, soft, round, and sinful. There was no time to think. He wanted only to touch, to feel.

While his lips and teeth made love to her left breast, his hand weighed her right carefully, his thumb rubbing back and forth
over the nipple. She bucked against him. He knew she was looking for her release, trying to feel him through the layers of
her skirts.

“Easy, love. We’ll get there. I know what you need.”

“Touch me, please.” He pulled her to him and suckled hard on her breast. Her cry nearly pulled him right over the edge.

Then his hand was on her thigh, warm and strong. His finger slid up inside her and she bucked against him. His mouth returned
to her breast, and again he suckled, all the while moving his finger inside her.

“You are the most beautiful woman in the world,” he whispered.

She parted her legs, further opening herself to him, and the last shred of his restraint dissolved. He had to have her right
then. In one swift movement, he’d unfastened his trousers and positioned himself at her opening. She didn’t give him warning
or time to think before she’d slid herself down on top of him. She was slick for him, and sitting atop him drove him deep
inside her.

His control had disappeared, but she didn’t seem to notice or care. Instead she took the reins and set her own pace as she
rocked herself over him again and again. She fit him so tightly, and the friction built his climax so quickly he could scarcely
breathe.

“Oh, God, Esme,” he panted.

Faster and harder she rode him, until she tossed her head back and yelled his name. Her body shook with her release. It took
only one more thrust before he spilled his seed.

Their labored breathing filled the interior of the coach. He held her tight, not yet wanting to relinquish the moment. Right
here in his arms, she could be his.

She put her hand over his wrist, directly on the band. “When did you do this?” she whispered.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Why, Fielding? Why would you risk your life like this?” Her green eyes searched his.

“I won’t allow you to face this alone. I’m with you in this, Esme, until the end.”

Later that night there had been no argument about whether or not Esme would go with Fielding to find Waters. Since they’d
left the Raven’s earlier, Fielding had not let her out of his sight. Even when she’d taken a warm bath to wash off the filth
and to try, for a moment, to forget the horrors she’d seen, Fielding had been right by her side.

Despite her longing to curl up in her bed and forget all about what had happened, finding Waters couldn’t wait any longer.
The eclipse was tomorrow, and without him by their side, they wouldn’t have a chance at breaking the curse. They hadn’t talked
about Thatcher’s bracelet and the fact that they’d need his hand to complete the task. It was understood that they needed to steal the box back from the Raven, and they’d need that fourth band.

“We are getting rather accomplished at skulking around in the dark,” Esme whispered.

“Shhhh.” Fielding pulled her closer to his body, closer to the brick wall they were leaning against.

They’d found Waters at the same little pub and had followed him into another one. At the moment, though, Waters stood on the
street, relieving himself in a drunken stupor.

Their plan was simple: follow Waters back to his place of residence where they could get him alone, and then take him captive.
Esme thought it quite fitting that she be the kidnapper for a change. She’d had about enough of being abducted herself.

The stench from the streets was enough to churn Esme’s stomach. Bodily fluids mixed with garbage and who knew what else floated
past them. She pressed her nose to Fielding’s back, hoping his pleasant scent would detract from the horrid smell. The wool
of his coat tickled her nose.

Waters was on the move again, swaying widely and humming off-key. She and Fielding kept their distance, staying in the darkness.
Wrapped in her darkest cloak, it seemed unlikely that she would be seen. Still, her heart seemed to be hammering in her chest
and her nerves were frazzled.

Waters turned down an alley and they followed. The man staggered and practically fell down the steps that took him into what
they could only assume was his residence. They waited a few seconds before entering through the same door.

“Esme, you must keep your distance. Whatever you do, don’t touch the man.”

Esme swallowed her fear. “What about you?”

Fielding’s eyes softened. “I’ll be careful. I’ll be
fine
.”

Footsteps sounded overhead. It took a while, but they were finally able to locate the stairs. Boards moaned beneath their
weight as they climbed. Still, Waters kept humming and didn’t seem alerted to their presence.

The staircase led them, not to a landing, but rather a large loft area that served as Waters’s bedroom. A sagging mattress
lay directly on the floor, with blankets strewn haphazardly over it. Scattered pieces of clothing littered the floor as well
as half-eaten chunks of food. By the time Esme had finished surveying their surroundings, she’d realized there was no time
for them to hide from plain view.

“Fielding?” Waters said in drunken surprise.

“Hello, Waters,” Fielding said.

Waters frowned in confusion, and his long, thin body wavered. Then he pointed at them, his arm shaking. “Did you follow me?”

“I did.” Fielding’s voice was strong, yet lined with something else. Amusement, perhaps.

Esme waited, still standing with one foot on the stairs, one in the room. She was unsure of her role in this scheme, but she
was prepared to strike should Fielding require her assistance.

“The Raven must be furious,” Waters said. “He hasn’t found me yet.”

Esme doubted that was true. Had the Raven wanted Waters, he would have captured him by now.

Fielding took several steps toward his drunken foe. “Why haven’t you returned to the Raven since the monastery?”

Waters blinked rapidly. “I stole from him. I figured that would do me in for good. Thatcher didn’t think we were in danger,
but…” Waters just shook his head. “Bloody ’ell.”

Esme wondered for a moment if Fielding would tell Waters that he’d been right, that Thatcher was dead, but Fielding said nothing.

Waters gave a toothy grin, and it seemed then he first saw Esme standing there. “Hey.” He pointed at her. “You’re that lady.”

It was at that moment Fielding grabbed Waters’s shoulders. “You need to come with us.”

“I don’t think I should.” He shook his head and tried to stumble away from Fielding. But his inebriation robbed his coordination.
Fielding grabbed Waters by the shirt and, careful not to touch the man’s skin, dragged him down the stairs.

It took them another fifteen minutes to make it back to their carriage. All the while, Waters sputtered about how the Raven
was going to find them.

Fielding boxed the drunk man’s ears. “Quiet! You’re giving me a headache.”

“Where are you taking me?” he asked once they’d tossed him into the confines of the rig.

“We need your sorry arse to save my life. And perhaps the queen’s,” Esme said.

Waters hiccuped, and then he promptly passed out.

F
ielding knew he could not do this alone. As much as he didn’t want to, he knew it was time to ask for help. He’d spent so
much of his adult life hating the men of Solomon’s and what they stood for because he’d blamed them for his father’s death.
But he’d seen the way they’d come to Mr. Nichols’s side, the way they’d taken care of his affairs.

It was time to accept the truth. They had not led his father to his death. It had been an accident, just as his mother had
said.

There was only one person to blame. The Raven. His blackmail had driven his father to chase a foolish dream, to go after the
treasure himself instead of hiring someone more qualified. And that was why Solomon’s had sent those other two men with him—they’d
only been trying to protect him.

Even knowing that, even having accepted that the men of Solomon’s were honorable, he was still reluctant to ask them for assistance.
He’d worked alone for the past seven years. It suited him. But to protect Esme, he’d deal with the devil himself.

Fielding tapped two knuckles on Max’s study door.

“Come in,” Max said. “Where did you put your cursed friend?”

“In an empty room below the servant’s quarters,” Fielding replied. “There aren’t any windows and I bolted the door, so no
chance of him escaping.”

“How is Esme?” Max asked when Fielding fell into a chair.

“Sleeping,” Fielding said.

“She won’t go out again without you?” Max asked with a frown.

“I doubt it, but to be on the safe side, I put a bell on her door.” When Max laughed, Fielding explained. “It was something
my mother used to do when I was a boy. I had this nasty habit of digging up her flowers.”

“Looking for treasure?” Max asked.

Fielding nodded.

“I suppose you’ve inherited your father’s sense of adventure,” Max said.

Ah, but which father? The murderer whose blood flowed through his veins, or the scholar who’d raised him? Fielding had a sinking
feeling he was more similar to the former. “I suppose,” he said.

“What can we do to help?” Max asked.

“We” meaning Solomon’s. It was time, he reminded himself, time to forgive and time to ask for help. “You’ve done plenty for
us already,” Fielding said.

Max waved him off. “Your father was one of us, and we take care of our own.”

And that courtesy evidently extended to him. “The Raven is planning something,” Fielding said. “All Esme knows is she saw
him studying a map of some sort, and she heard mention of guards and Her Majesty.”

“You think he’s going after the queen?” Max asked.

“That’s just it; I can’t see his reasoning for killing Victoria.” He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “We
don’t have much time left. The lunar eclipse is tomorrow night, and we have until then to get the bracelet off Esme’s wrist.”
He held his arm up with a shallow laugh. “And my own. Before we—”

“We won’t allow that to happen,” Max said firmly. “I do believe I know what your uncle’s plans might be.”

Fielding threaded his fingers through his hair. “I’m glad one of us is able to think clearly. What’s your theory?”

Max unfolded the newspaper from his desk and turned it so that Fielding could read it. He tapped on the printed type.

“The Golden Jubilee?” Fielding asked. “That’s still two days away.”

“Yes, but the celebrations begin tomorrow. Evidently a large number of monarchies and rulers from other nations have come
here to join Victoria in the festivities. Tomorrow is their private ceremony at Buckingham Palace.”