Under the Boardwalk: A Dazzling Collection of All New Summertime Love Stories (25 page)

Freddie burped. "Is that all? I thought you were going to tell us DeWilde was a vampire."

"The whole affair was hushed up by Peter's family," Audrey said. "Nobody really knows how Rylan got involved, or why. Rumor has it that the shopgirl's unborn child was a DeWilde."

"Do you think I should get one of them pedicures?" Freddie asked, examining his toes.

Audrey sighed. "Of course, rumor also has it that the same child was sired by Peter."

"I thought Peter's cousin fathered the creature," Freddie said in confusion.

Jeremy snorted. "I'd like to meet this shopgirl. Imagine getting impregnated by three men at once."

"I can't imagine getting impregnated at all," Freddie said.

"Peter was Edgar's second in the duel," Audrey said quietly. "He hates Rylan."

"Well, we won't sit them together at the supper table, or ask them to dance with each other," Freddie said.

"Are you both as thick as a brick?" Audrey said. "Don't you understand what this means?"

The two men glanced at each other, then said, "No," in unison.

"If Peter won't stay in the same room with DeWilde," she said slowly, "he's not going to be delighted that his fiancee and three best friends are having a cozy holiday in Cornwall together. Is he?"

Jeremy and Freddie exchanged alarmed looks. Peter was not only the social link that connected them to the upper, upper crust, he was the purse that paid the way.

"I see what you mean," Jeremy said grimly. "We do owe Peter our loyalty."

"Not to mention several thousand pounds," Freddie said.

Audrey turned from the fire. "Therefore, being Peter's dearest friends, we must leave the house of his enemy."

Freddie sat bolt upright. "In the middle of the night?"

"Where will we find a carriage?" Jeremy asked.

"Well walk," Audrey said resolutely.

"Walk?" Freddie gazed in horror at his pampered white feet. "Across a moor? And to where, I ask."

"To the village," Audrey said. 'This is Cornwall, you dolt, not darkest Africa."

"Is there a difference?" Freddie asked.

A door slammed somewhere behind them, echoing through the house. Jeremy nibbed his haggard face. "Does Sydney know any of this? Does she know that Peter was carrying on with a shopgirl?"

Audrey glanced away. "No. She doesn't know about him and Lady Penelope either."

"That's still going on?" Freddie said in shock. "God."

"Yes," Audrey whispered. "And we're not going to breathe a word of it to our little Sleeping Beauty upstairs, or she'll break off the engagement and end up marrying someone awful like a clerk or a retired sailor. Then Peter will end up marrying someone deadly dull, and we'll be cut off like poor relatives."

Jeremy looked bewildered. "What do we do, then?"

"We rescue her." Audrey tossed Freddie his socks. "We spirit her as far away from DeWilde as we dare. One night in his house, and she'll be ruined whether he lays a hand on her or not."

Rylan held the hound by the scruff of the neck. Master and dog stood together in the unlit hall, eavesdroppers in their own home.

"Stay," Rylan said, his voice low and gruff. "You might have a chance to indulge your killer instincts later, but not yet."

He ducked his tall frame under the stairs as the three conspirators in the drawing room tiptoed out into the hall.

Rylan would have been amused by their idiotic antics if he weren't so furious. He'd be delighted to show them the door, but he'd be damned if he was going to allow them to abduct a half-drugged and inexperienced young woman.

They weren't going to take Sydney back to the man who was more of a monster inside than the tortured characters Rylan and his brothers had created.

He was just going to have to protect her. He hadn't realized how urgent a problem it was until he'd overheard the conversation in the drawing room.

Ruining Miss Windsor's reputation wouldn't just clear the field for him to capture her. It would probably save her from making the biggest mistake of her life.

"Wake up, Sydney." Audrey leaned over the bed.

"I can't find her clothes," Freddie said, bumping into the bedpost.

"Lord, Audrey, the woman is harder to move than a beached whale."

"She never looked that heavy," Freddie said. "She's so little."

"Sydney,
wake up
."

Sydney surfaced from her dream long enough to scowl at the three familiar faces that hovered about her.

"What?" she whispered.

"We're leaving," Audrey said. "Get up. Get dressed."

"Leaving where?" Sydney whispered, burrowing like a caterpillar under the covers.

"Leaving Lord DeWilde's house."

"Lord DeWilde." Sydney smiled a mysterious smile. "Lovely man. Did you see the cleft in his chin?"

"As lovely as Lucifer," Audrey muttered, tugging the quilt off the bed. "Sydney, your very life is at stake."

Sydney sat up, frowning into the dark. "Am I dreaming this?"

Audrey tried to pull her off the bed. "No. Now hurry up before he comes home."

"I like Lord DeWilde." Sydney rolled herself back into the quilt. "Go away, all of you. I need to sleep."

"Did you know he's known as Wicked DeWilde?"

"I didn't know that," Sydney said, yawning loudly. "But I do now. Go away."

Audrey dropped onto her knees beside the bed. "He sailed naked down the Nile with three native women!"

Sydney forced one eyelid open. "On a barge?"

"On a barge, or a steamship, who cares?" Audrey said impatiently. "What matters is that he was naked with the Nubians."

"Naked," Sydney murmured, staring at the ceiling. "That must have been a sight."

Audrey shook her. "Listen to me. The man is a scandal. He shocked Venice last summer by entertaining an exiled prince and his concubine in his apartments."

"Were they naked, too?" Freddie asked.

"How should I know?" Audrey hissed.

Sydney was drifting back to sleep. The laudanum had proven too powerful for her system. She wanted to slip back into the delicious dream she'd been having about Lord DeWilde. He'd dedicated a book to her, and she wanted to thank him.

Audrey dug her nails into Sydney's shoulders. "Sydney, we have to leave before he comes back."

Sydney tried to poke Audrey in the eye. "That isn't polite."

"Never mind polite," Audrey practically shouted. "DeWilde isn't what he seems. There are three DeWilde brothers, Sydney. Rylan is not merely a coauthor of those lurid tales, he's the one upon whom Valentine and Geoffrey have based their most notorious villains. His wild past has been their inspiration. His misdeeds are legend."

Sydney just smiled.

"I think she's gone round the bend," Freddie whispered.

Jeremy opened the window to the windy night.

"Those hounds are howling to raise hell. Let's get out of here before someone comes."

"The Danger Hounds of DeWilde Manor." Sydney sighed. "It's just like the book. How exciting."

Audrey stared at her in desperation. "Don't you understand what I am saying? DeWilde is not the sort of man one can safely associate with. He's Peter's sworn enemy. Your reputation will be ruined if you don't escape tonight. He's a villain, Sydney."

Sydney tried her hardest to awaken. Her head felt as if it were stuffed with wool. Her thoughts kept drifting away before she could hold them. Suddenly she saw herself sailing down the Nile with DeWilde and they were both—

"Naked," she whispered. "Oh, golly."

Audrey and Jeremy joined forces to hoist Sydney from the bed. Then Freddie tried to help, but instead of helping, he fell on Sydney's knee. She let out a yowl of pain that could be heard across two continents.

There were footsteps coming up the stairs, hard and determined. The door shook as someone pounded it from the other side.

DeWilde's voice broke the stunned silence in the room. "What is going on in there? Miss Windsor, are you all right?"

"My God." Freddie turned chalk white. "The body snatcher is back. What do we do?"

Jeremy threw his leg over the ledge. "We escape. Come on, Audrey. I'll catch you."

"What about me?" Freddie said.

"Catch yourself," Jeremy said before he jumped.

"Oh, Sydney." Audrey looked over her shoulder in regret. "We really did try."

Audrey and the two men had just landed in the garden when DeWilde broke through the door. For a horrible moment, when he saw the open window, he thought they'd taken Sydney with them. Then Frankenstein trotted over to the bed and licked the small hand dangling from the bed.

Sydney slept, a smile on her lips, a Sleeping Beauty blissfully unaware of the evil world around her.

Rylan strode over to the bed and reassured himself that she wasn't hurt. The sight of her lying there with her limbs entangled in his sheets almost stopped his heart with desire. His eyes grew dark as he studied her sensuous curves and thought of waking up beside her every morning. Which he would.

He examined her with the proprietary satisfaction of a man who had been entrusted with a rare treasure. He looked forward to the pleasure and privileges of ownership.

He knelt at the side of the bed, resting his chin on her shoulder.

She looked so sweet and defenseless. But wasn't his Sleeping Beauty cold? He frowned in concern, nudging Frankenstein away. Sydney had kicked off the covers and her skin felt too cool. She needed to be warmed up.

He reached for the heavy quilt, then stopped, transfixed by her sensuality. The strings of her night rail had become untied, revealing her shoulder and the swell of her breast.

He needed to touch her. Just once. He was shaking at the thought.

He traced his forefinger over her plump breast. His breath quickened as the nipple hardened, thrusting against the thin linen. Dusky as a rosebud, so responsive to his touch. His gaze lowered to the juncture of her thighs, to the shadowed delta there.

He needed to be inside her. His mouth curved into an unconscious smile of anticipation and for a minute he felt as if had just caught fire.

He closed his eyes. He imagined how it would feel to make love to her, to be so deeply embedded in her body he could not move. A low growl broke in his throat, disturbing the silence.

Sydney stirred, whimpering in her sleep, as if she could sense his restless energy, the male hunger that possessed him. As if she sensed the threat. He smiled tenderly.

"Hush," he murmured, stroking her hair with infinite gentleness. But the impulses he fought were feral and unrefined. He was not surprised she could sense them.

She would never belong to herself again, but to him.

Rylan could hardly wait. He took a breath for self-control.

"It's all right," he whispered, allowing himself to run his hand down her arm. "You're safe here." Then he reached up to pull the quilt around her, protecting her not from the cold but from his own black desire.

She smiled at him in her sleep. Then, just as he tried to pry himself away, she curled her arms around his neck.

"Stay," she ordered him in the softest, the sexiest whisper.

His body responded with a surge of raw arousal that made him suck in his breath.