Wicked Designs (The League of Rogues) (10 page)

Emily relaxed and sank deeper into the chair, trying to control her shivers. Glass tinkling, and the splash of liquid, caught her attention. Godric had his back to her as he prepared a drink. Exhausted, Emily put up little resistance when he returned to her and held the glass to her lips.

“Drink this.”

“What is it?” she mumbled around the rim of the glass.

“Just a bit of brandy. It will warm your insides.”

Emily looked up at him through her dark lashes, seeking any sign that he meant her harm. But she could not navigate the fathomless depths of his eyes.

“Come on, darling. Drink it for me,” he encouraged as he bent low over her chair. His knuckles stroked her cheek, pushing back a wet wayward strand of hair.

Emily drank, sputtered in shock at the sudden burning in her throat, and downed the rest of the glass with a gasp. Godric patted her back lightly as she choked down a cough.

“Good heavens, is this what brandy tastes like?” She’d never tried it before and found it far too bitter. She gagged and wrinkled her nose as she thought, groggily that it had an all too familiar aftertaste. 

“There’s a good girl.” He bent and brushed his lips on her forehead.

Emily sighed heavily. Lethargy crept along her limbs as Godric joined the other men at the table. Lucien spoke about their various friends back in London. The warmth of the fire and Cedric’s coat around her made her relax. Her eyelids wavered then fell. She hoped she wouldn’t dream of Godric, but she knew she would when soft lips brushed her forehead again and sleep claimed her.

Chapter Five

A momentary twinge of guilt had sparked in Godric when he poured laudanum in Emily’s brandy. He wanted to trust her, give back her freedom, but she’d run. He couldn’t let her go, not until his revenge was complete. Even then, Godric wasn’t ready to set his fascinating little captive free. It amused him to see her discovering her own sensuality, though he knew that this did not cast him in an angelic light. He had to persuade Emily to take him, not force himself upon her, and none of it had to do with his revenge on Albert Parr.

Once she succumbed to sleep, he called to the other side of the room where his friends were gathered. “Ash, could you help me?”

“What do you need?” Ashton rose from the table and came over.

Godric touched the woman’s cheek, her skin was baby soft. “Emily?”

She didn’t stir.

Ashton raised a brow. “Did you give her something?”

“A little laudanum in her brandy. Please find Mrs. Downing and have her bring a clean change of clothes for Emily and my robe and slippers.”

Ashton left and soon returned with Mrs. Downing, who held Godric’s large red velvet evening robe and warm house slippers. The elderly housekeeper was more like a beloved old nanny to him, and her sharp gaze of disapproval always made him feel like a misbehaved youth. Still, she said nothing as she handed over the fresh clothes.

“Thank you, Mrs. Downing.” Godric took the items and he and the housekeeper got to work.

Godric lifted Emily away from the seat while Mrs. Downing peeled off the wet clothes.

Godric’s heart stilled at Emily’s beautifully sculpted curves. He hardened instantly at the thought of licking every inch of her, nibbling her hips and nuzzling the creamy swells of her breasts. Exploring the slopes and curves of her luscious—

A loud cough and Mrs. Downing’s reproachful scowl broke into Godric’s daydream. Recovering himself, he slipped a night rail over her and tucked her arms through the sleeves before putting his robe around Emily. The housekeeper took Emily’s muddied riding boots off and slipped her feet into Godric’s evening slippers which were as big as chamber pots on her dainty feet. At least they would keep her feet warm.

“Will you be needing anything else, Your Grace?” Mrs. Downing asked.

“No, thank you.”

She nodded and took her leave.

Emily didn’t stir until Godric tucked a blanket around her. Even then, she only sighed and snuggled deeper into the armchair. He hadn’t expected to enjoy Emily’s abduction this much. Nor had he expected to be quite so taken with her. His original intention had been to spoil her uncle’s ability to sell her off to settle his debts. But now Emily’s seduction was infinitely more personal. Lust was winning out over revenge, even if both desires led to the same end.

Godric feared he might become as much Emily’s captive as she was his. Already his companions showed signs; her rebellious nature charmed them. He didn’t want to think about what would happen if they decided they wanted Emily as much as he.

She could never find out how much power she wielded, enough to tear the League of Rogues apart with its sweetness and vitality.

Emily awoke, surprised to find herself back in her chamber clad only in a night rail, a huge robe and too-large slippers. She jumped when a full-figured maid with red curls that escaped her cap bustled through the doorway and started to draw a bath.

Soon Emily was ducking under the hot surface of the bathwater. The maid, Libba, was shy to talk at first, but Emily had a talent for earning trust. She listened with excitement to Emily’s description of her abduction.

“How romantic!” Libba sighed, lashes fluttering.

Emily only laughed. “Romantic? I’ve been abducted! It was dreadful for all those men to manhandle me like a misbehaving child.”

“I wouldn’t be complaining of that, Miss. I’d give my soul to be manhandled by that dashing Lord Lonsdale. I started working for His Grace when I was but sixteen. When I first saw the earl—” Libba giggled before she covered her flushed cheeks. “Let’s just say I would have loved for him to take such a notice in me.”

“You say that now. We’ll see how you feel when five men have ruined your reputation just because one of them desired revenge for something you had nothing to do with.” Emily rose from the bath and wrapped a towel around herself. “It’s aggravating!”

“His Grace treats you fondly, doesn’t he?”

“What do you mean?” Emily could only think of that savage embrace by the lake, and the cruel pinch to her bottom, and the threat of a spanking. Fond? Godric was anything but fond.

Libba pointed to the robe and slippers that Emily had shed near the bed. “His Grace put those on you while you slept. They are His Grace’s personal night clothes.” Libba’s bright countenance relayed an extra implication.

Emily sank onto the vanity table chair, feeling suddenly very small, in a way unfamiliar to her.

Godric had stripped her naked? He saw her body while she’d been defenseless? Did the blasted man think he had some right to her, merely because he’d kissed her a few times? Well, more than a few, and they had been most thorough kisses, Emily reflected grimly.

“Do you think… He wouldn’t expect me to… I’m no haymarket ware!”

Libba paled at the implication. “He would never force himself on you, Miss. I swear it. He’s a good man.”

“Would a good man abduct a young woman and destroy her future, Libba?” She tried to forget how easily she responded to his touch, his kiss.

The maid chattered about how she surely had nothing to worry about, and how things would turn out right in the end, oblivious to the realities of the world. Emily dressed in one of the new gowns Simkins had ordered from London. She’d laid out a new pair of white stockings among fresh petticoats and a chemise, all sewed of expensive muslin and less modest than the gown.

The feeling of fresh undergarments and a new blue dress made all the difference. It restored her confidence from its fragile state back to a more stable one. Rather than put her hair up, she directed Libba to gather her hair at the nape of her neck and secure it with ribbon. Her eyes glittered, like a pair of lilac gemstones, as she gazed with satisfaction at herself in the vanity mirror.

“A vision you are, Miss!” Libba smiled. “You wear blue, His Grace’s favorite color, very well. He will be most pleased!”

Emily frowned. She didn’t want to wear Godric’s favorite color. The last thing he needed was to see her behavior as encouragement.

Charles burst into her room, against all propriety and reason, causing both Emily and her maid to shriek in protest.

“You about done yet, Em—” He stopped and his eyes widened. “Bloody hell! What I wouldn’t give to drag you off to my room. What say you, Emily? Care for a noonday tumble? I’ll make it worth your while!”

He crossed the room and caught her in his arms, like a mad whirlwind in human form.

Emily regained her wits for a brief moment and freed one hand, slapping him. “Unhand me!”

Despite the red blotch that grew on the right side of his face, Charles continued to grin at her. “If you think I’ll surrender you to anyone else downstairs, you’re wrong. I want to kiss you, Emily,” Charles declared. “I tend to get what I want.”

Beneath his teasing, Emily sensed competition. This is just what I need—to become a trophy for these grown boys to fight over. Then again…if she could use that desire to her advantage, she might find a way to pit them against each other. Now that reality had recalled Charles, his cheeks rosied with a boyish bashfulness, and his gray eyes sank to the floor.

“Um, Emily, you’ll be a good girl and not tell Godric I asked to kiss you?”

She touched her chin thoughtfully. “I wonder how he’d react to that? He does seem to have a bit of a temper.”

He flinched. “Most women adore, err…my attentions.”

Libba seemed to swoon next to the earl. Sometimes Emily wondered if there was any hope at all for her sex.

“As I keep trying to tell all of you blasted men, I’m
not
like other women!” She brushed past him and walked out the door, ignoring Libba’s flutter of giggles.

Emily found her way to the dining room, Charles on her heels. She hoped her veiled threat to expose him to Godric had chastened him.

Ashton and Lucien stood by the windows, engaged in a fluid conversation. They frowned at her for some reason, then glared at Charles. Lucien opened his mouth to speak, but stopped when Godric and Cedric joined them in the room.

Godric took one look at Emily then threw Charles a glower that could have melted stone. Charles defiantly raised his chin.

Ashton cut into this silent war. “Emily, may I ask you a rather odd question?”

She nodded.

“Do you, perchance, speak Greek?”

Emily managed to mask her face to hide the truth, that she was indeed fluent in that particular language, as well as Latin.

“No.” she lied. Ashton turned to his friends and broke into fluent Greek. She followed the resulting discussion with ease. “Charles, what did you do to her?”

Charles looked guiltily at Godric then at the floor.

“I asked to kiss her. She slapped me. I swear it won’t happen again.”

“Sounds like you’re losing your touch,” Lucien joked.

“I got a little carried away with my earnestness, but no harm was done.”

Godric pounded the table with his fist. “No harm? You can’t demand such things and not expect it to affect her!”

Emily’s teacup clattered sharply and tea spilled onto the table.
Hypocrite.
She shot Godric a worried look. But none of the others paid attention.

Cedric spoke in a low voice. “Godric… Not to play devil’s advocate, but you did more than demand a few kisses this morning, if I recall.”

Exactly
. Heat rose in Emily’s face, but they didn’t notice.

“If I want her, Cedric, then she’s mine!” Godric shouted. “It’s my money her uncle stole, so I can steal back in kind!”

“But Emily didn’t steal your money,” Lucien said sharply. “You’ve ruined her just by bringing her here, you don’t actually have to seduce her. We aren’t Arab sheikhs keeping her as a slave for our harems.”

Ashton cleared his throat, silencing the room. “It’s evident we all have taken an interest in Emily that goes beyond captors and captive. I advise we consider our actions more carefully and try to think with our upper heads, not our lower ones. If possible.” He shot a glance at Charles. “It’s time we abided by Rule Four of our code. If any man here wishes to have Emily he must convince her to take him. Once claimed, no others may try for her. There will be no more forcibly stolen kisses, not even from you, Godric. I am putting my foot down.”

His command left Emily to wonder if perhaps he really was the group’s secret leader. Perhaps peerage did not actually affect the League’s inner politics.

“But, Ash,” Charles protested, “you can’t expect us not to touch her. She’s so—”

“Irresistible?” Godric said darkly. “Who the devil is in control, you or your loins?”

“Yes, she has enchanted us all, but if she knew that she could use it against us. So again I say: if any man wants her, he’ll have to seduce her properly. If she resists that man’s advances, he has a duty to stop paying court to her.”

“And any further discussions on the matter,” Lucien added, “shall be conducted in Greek.”

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” Emily said in English, drawing all eyes back to her. “Is everything all right? I feel as though I’ve caused some trouble.” The tension in the room eased somewhat.

“Not at all, Emily,” Lucien replied. “We were merely telling Charles he could not repeat his actions…unless you wish it, of course.”

Charles grinned.