Taken by the Earl (Regency Unlaced 3) (4 page)

It was clear to Fliss that Sinclair Montgomery was not taking her warning in the least seriously. “You do not believe me,” she snapped in frustration.

“I did not say that—”

“You did not need to do so.” Fliss swished the skirt of her gown out of the way as she moved away from him. “I had heard that large men such as yourself were all brawn and no brain, but until this moment, I had not found that to be the case.”

“You… I—”

“Exactly.” She eyed him scornfully as he stumbled over his protest. “As I told you, I insinuated myself as a guest here for one reason only”—she wrinkled her nose with distaste for both their hostess and the other guests—“and that was to warn you of this threat to your life. Obviously, I have wasted both my time and yours, when it seems you are too stupid to heed my warnings.”

“I may only recently have acquired the English title of earl, Mrs. Randall.” He eyed her coldly. “But in Scotland, I am laird of my family, and as such, I am not accustomed to being addressed so disrespectfully.”

“And
I
am surprised to hear you have enough intelligence to realize I am showing you disrespect.” Fliss’s tone was waspish. “I accept that we became…distracted from my purpose a short time ago.” Her cheeks warmed at the reason for that distraction. “But I assure you, my only purpose in seeking you out was to tell you a gentleman, one of the other guests here, fully intends to kill you.”

The earl looked down the long length of his haughty nose at her. “The name of this gentleman?”

“I do not know his name.”

“How does he intend to kill me?”

“I do not know that either.” Fliss became flustered at the number of the things she did
not
know about this situation.

Even so, it had never occurred to her that when she finally found and spoke to the earl, he would not believe her warnings.
 

Fliss frowned. “I am well aware of how this must all sound to you.” She had not realized how much until she actually spoke the words out loud. “But I assure you, I really did overhear a conversation two weeks ago in which a man and a woman discussed disposing of you during the Eckles’s house party.”

The earl raised dark brows. “What man and which woman?”

“
I do not know!
”

“But you said—”

Fliss looked down at her clenched hands. “I could not see their faces, only hear their conversation.”

“How so?” Their own conversation was doing little to convince Sin as to the truth of her warning.

This woman had a viper’s tongue in her when she chose to use it. In the last few minutes, she had cast aspersions on his intelligence and called him stupid, all brawn and no brain. It might have been amusing under any other circumstances.

“I… When I attend social engagements”—once again her gaze avoided meeting Sin’s—“I often find occasion in which to seek seclusion from the—the noise and merriment.”

Having spent only a matter of days in that Society, and now at Eckles Manor, Sin could wholly sympathize with the sentiment.

“On the occasion I refer to, I had sought refuge in the library and was seated in one of the bay windows reading a book when the couple came in.”

“They did not see you?”

She shook her head. “The curtains were drawn across the alcove. Once I realized I had company, and—and what they were doing, I—I made sure they did not know I was there.”

“And what were they doing…?”
 

“The man—I cannot refer to him as a gentleman, because he was not—forced the woman to her knees and ordered her to carry out unspeakable acts—”

“What unspeakable acts?”

Her eyes flashed a deep and stormy gray. “They would not be unspeakable if I could speak of them.”

Which gave Sin a fair idea of what one of those acts might have been. Even so, what a couple chose to do when they were alone together—or believed they were alone together—was their own affair and not for others to judge. He was rather partial to having his own cock sucked on the right occasion and by the right woman.

“I am not a prude, if that is what you are thinking.” The high color in Mrs. Randall’s cheeks indicated she was deeply embarrassed to be talking of such things, despite having been married.

Despite the fact I had my hands and mouth all over her only minutes ago.

Sin wondered what sort of man her husband might have been that she reacted so shyly. Older, perhaps. Much older. His libido waning. It would certainly explain her having seemed more than a little shocked after being privy to such intimacies as this couple appeared to have been indulging in. But then, he had noted that many women in Society appeared to live on their nerves for one reason or another.

It might also explain why this woman might have set her sights on a much younger and virile gentleman as her next husband. Namely him.

“The man was forcing the woman to do these…acts as payment for him having agreed to kill you,” she continued with determination.

“Forcing?”

“Her whimpers and groans sounded pained rather than pleasurable.” Her cheeks colored. “The man, in contrast, seemed highly delighted these acts were to continue once he returned to London and confirmed he had disposed of you.”

“And yet she agreed to it anyway.”

“Yes.”

“The woman is not also to be a guest here?”

“I did not have that impression, no.”

“But it is she who wishes me dead?”

“Yes.”

“But you do not know what she looks like or her name?”

“No.”

“Or what my transgression against her might have been?” Sin pressed.

“No.”

“You obviously spend time in Society. Did you not recognize the voice of either the man or the woman?”

Mrs. Randall’s gaze once again avoided meeting his. “The man was…aroused and spoke harshly in his demands, and the woman did not speak at all at first.”

“Only whimpered and groaned.”

“Yes.” She looked flustered. “And when she did finally speak, her voice was gruff from where she had… No, I did not recognize either of their voices,” she added hastily.

“So you do not know who these people are? As I have no idea who might wish me dead or why?”

Her wince was pained. “That would appear to be the case, yes.”

“That would also appear to make it difficult for us to do anything other than wait for the attack.”

“Us?” Fliss was taken aback. “I have told you of the danger you are in from this man, as I intended to do. Now it is up to you to deal with the situation. It is my intention to leave on the morrow.”
 

“I do not think so.”

She looked at him in alarm. “What do you mean?”

“Surely it is obvious?” the earl said derisively. “You at least have the advantage of having heard the voices of my two would-be assassins. As such, you will need to remain here to see if you recognize either of those voices again amongst the other guests.”
 

Fliss became guarded. “Would it not be simpler if we both just departed?”

“That would only delay the problem, not eliminate it.”

“But—”

“You came to me, Mrs. Randall,” he reminded her. “If indeed there is a threat to my life, I intend to meet that threat head-on. To kill before I am killed, if I must.” His expression was grim and determined. “Do not look so shocked, Mrs. Randall.” He mocked her wide-eyed expression. “Surely you must have heard the tales of the wild Highlander who has arrived in Society’s midst?”

Fliss knew the young debutantes had all been aflutter before this man’s arrival in London, at the idea of ensnaring the Earl of Winterbourne for their husband. Their mothers had salivated at the thought of having such a wealthy gentleman as their son-in-law. Even if he was an “ill-bred Highlander.”

Except he was not, Fliss allowed grudgingly. Sinclair Montgomery might originate from the Highlands of Scotland, but he was every bit as toplofty as Thea’s new husband, the Duke of Blackmoor, and every bit as rakishly handsome as Sally’s betrothed, the Marquis of Oxbridge.

“My mother was English, did you know that?”

“No…” Fliss eyed him curiously.

He gave a half smile. “English Society, and her family, turned its back on her when she eloped with her Scottish lover.”

“I am sorry for that.”

Sin raised a derisive brow. “Why should you be sorry? You were not even born at the time. Neither was I, for that matter.”

“Nevertheless, I know how…unforgiving Society can be.”
 

“And what does Society say of you, Mrs. Randall?” he mused. “Does it believe you to be prim and respectable? The demur widow?”

“My husband was a war hero!” There were two high spots of color in her cheeks.

“I asked what it said of you, not your husband,” he taunted. “Are you as prim and respectable as they believe?”

Fliss straightened, well aware she had not behaved in either way with this man. “I am sure that anyone in society would tell you Mrs. Felicity Randall is a levelheaded, sensible lady, and not given to bouts of hysteria or imaginings.”

“Would they still tell me that if they knew you had followed me here in order to relate some wild tale of a plot to murder me?”

“I am only telling you what I overheard,” she insisted. “I assure you, one of the other guests here fully intends to kill you.”

“And am I to believe waiting for me in my bedchamber, allowing me to…take liberties, is another example of your levelheaded and sensible behavior?”

Fliss’s cheeks burned with embarrassment at the memory of her lapse into physical euphoria in this gentleman’s arms only minutes ago. She had not so much as been attracted to another man during her marriage or since, and yet this particular man had needed only to touch her—

This man was dangerous. To her. To that respectability he took such delight in mocking.

She raised her chin in challenge. “Perhaps the reason this other woman wishes you dead is because you have taken liberties with her too.”

Sin’s chuckle was completely spontaneous. “You are the first lady I have taken liberties with since my arrival in England.” She was the first woman he had desired in some time, now that he thought on it.

The running of his estates in Scotland and ensuring his tenants and workers were comfortable kept him busy. He also had a rule of not engaging in physical involvements with any of his neighbors, necessitating that he travel into Inverness if he felt in need of female company. He realized now he had not traveled there since before last Christmas.

“I find that hard to believe.” Felicity Randall echoed his own sentiment.

Sin stepped closer until he was able to feel the warmth given off by her body and breathe in the heady aroma of her release that still clung to her clothing. “I really do not think I can allow you to leave Eckles Manor just yet, Mrs. Randall,” he murmured huskily.

She gasped. “You cannot stop me.”

“But think how guilty you would feel if something were to happen to me and you knew you might have prevented it.”

“That is unfair.”

“But true.”

It was, Fliss acknowledged with frustration. This arrogant gentleman knew it too, and was using the softness of her heart against her. For what reason? “If you think by keeping me here that I will succumb to your…seduction again, then you are mistaken.”
 

“Am I?”

Fliss’s resolve wavered at his close proximity. At the memory of how easily this gentleman had aroused and satisfied the needs of her body a short time ago.

Because she was starved for affection, she defended herself inwardly. For the warmth of another. To, for once in her life, feel both beautiful and desired.

If that was so, then why had she never felt the least temptation to succumb to that temptation before tonight? And to have done so with Sin Montgomery, of all men.
 

Sin.

Was it a sin to want more of the pleasure this man had given her earlier? To ache to caress that aroused and burgeoning cock? To perhaps even touch it with her lips, as that other woman had done, and in doing so give this man so much pleasure, he would spend in her mouth within minutes?

Fliss had only ever bathed away Stephen’s release after lovemaking, while secretly hoping he had planted a child inside her for her to love and care for. A hope that had never reached fruition.

It had never occurred to her until a few weeks ago that a woman could kiss a man’s cock, take it into her mouth, pleasure him in that way until he attained his release. What would that release taste like? Sweet? Salty? A combination of the two?

“Have you taken a lover since your husband’s death?”

The intimacy of the question shook Fliss out of her wonderings. “Of course not.”

“Why not?” The earl raised a hand to caress the hair back from her temple before cupping his palm about the heat of her cheek.

Fliss only just stopped herself from arching into that caress like a cat, or a woman, in heat. Was that what she was? A woman so starved for affection and warmth, she was allowing that need to override her better judgment.