The Rogue Who Loved Me

The Rogue Who Loved Me by Ingela Hyatt

Mundania Press LLC www.mundania.com

Copyright ©2011 by Ingela F. Hyatt First published in 2011, 2011 NOTICE: This eBook is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution to any person via email, floppy disk, network, print out, or any other means is a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines and/or imprisonment. This notice overrides the Adobe Reader permissions which are erroneous. This eBook cannot be legally lent or given to others. This eBook is displayed using 100% recycled electrons.

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The Rogue Who Loved Me by Ingela Hyatt

CONTENTS Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter

One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen Nineteen Twenty Twenty-One Twenty-Two Twenty-Three Twenty-Four Twenty-Five Twenty-Six 3

The Rogue Who Loved Me by Ingela Hyatt

Chapter Twenty-Seven Chapter Twenty-Eight Chapter Twenty-Nine Chapter Thirty Chapter Thirty-One Chapter Thirty-Two Chapter Thirty-Three Chapter Thirty-Four Chapter Thirty-Five Chapter Thirty-Six Chapter Thirty-Seven Chapter Thirty-Eight Chapter Thirty-Nine Chapter Forty Epilogue ****

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**** The Rogue Who Loved Me The Rogues Gallery **** Ingela F. Hyatt **** Awe-Struck Publishing

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The Rogue Who Loved Me by Ingela Hyatt

The Rogue Who Loved Me Copyright (C) 2011 by Ingela F. Hyatt ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Edited by Judy Bagshaw Cover Art (C) 2011 by Kim Killion First Edition December 2011 eBook ISBN: 978-1-58749-227-3 Trade Paperback ISBN: 978-1-58749-231-0 **** Published by: Awe-Struck Publishing An imprint of Mundania Press LLC 6457 Glenway Ave., #109 Cincinnati, OH 45211 All rights reserved under the International and PanAmerican Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher, Mundania Press LLC, 6457 Glenway Avenue, #109, Cincinnati, Ohio 45211, [email protected]. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control 6

The Rogue Who Loved Me by Ingela Hyatt

over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without permission from Mundania Press LLC. Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author's rights and livelihood is appreciated. .

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If you wake at midnight and hear a horse's feet, Don't go drawing back the blind, or looking in the street. Them that ask no questions isn't told a lie. Watch the wall, my darling, while the Gentlemen go by! Five and twenty ponies Trotting through the dark—Brandy for the Parson, 'Baccy for the Clerk; Laces for a lady, letters for a spy, And watch the wall, my darling, while the Gentlemen go by! from A Smuggler's Song by Rudyard Kipling

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Chapter One **** 4th March 1758, Weymouth, Dorset, England Alexande Fredrick Augustus Telford, the second Marquis of Ravenspur, waited patiently for his liveried footman to open the door, before alighting from the plush coach. He paused to look up and down the street. The town seemed pleasant enough with its quaint little shops and narrow cobble streets. But Alex wasn't fooled, for beneath its cheerful mien, lay a sinister secret involving every citizen of Weymouth. And he'd been sent to ferret it out. Alex nodded to a gaggle of twittering ladies standing on the walkway. They paused to whisper behind their fans, and stared at his carriage and then at him. He glanced back at the vehicle and noted the Ravenspur insignia boldly emblazoned upon the door in gold. Alexande was bemused. Has my reputation preceded me once again? Surely the news of his recent duel with the Earl of Whittingham had not reached the seaside town. True, those of the ton who did not care for the bustle of Brighton flocked to Weymouth for a month or two during the summer—but it was far too early for any of them to have arrived. Though he wished his good friend Hunter was present. That rogue would give these provincial ladies something to 9

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talk about. Unlike Alex who preferred to remain cool and aloof, Hunter—the Marquis of Huntley—was charming, mischievous and daring to the core. He was also Alexande's closest friend and confidant, and since their days in Eton, his second in every duel Alex had ever fought on English soil. Alex had invited Hunter to come and visit him, but they had both known it had been nothing more than a beau geste— Alex hadn't been serious, and Hunter would never even think of leaving the London Season for a country village like Weymouth. Alexande nodded to the women, flashing his most charming smile, and watched as they scattered like a gaggle of geese before a hungry wolf. Suppressing a laugh, he climbed the steps and waited for his footman to open the large portal. Stepping inside, Alex discovered the town hall consisted of a large dimly lit chamber with rich mahogany walls and soft candlelight. A single clerk sat bent over his careworn desk, madly scribbling on a sheaf of parchment. Sitting near the entrance was a young woman in a rather agitated state. There wasn't anything obvious to suggest her nervousness—she sat straight backed, her delicate hands folded primly upon her lap. A rumpled bonnet hid all but a single golden ringlet of her hair. Though her gown was modest and not of the proper cut, it was not entirely out of fashion—the wide skirts overflowing the wooden seat. No, it was the way she squeezed her hands as though to still their trembling, the absentminded nibbling of her bottom lip. And 10

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her rapt attention focused solely on the door at the rear of the chamber—as though she awaited harsh judgment. The ton thought him just another wealthy decadent lord, ever seeking his next pleasure, be it in the form of a lady, duel or wager. But Alexande lived in a world of shadows, of illusion, where nothing was as it seemed, and danger lurked in every corner—from the elegant ballrooms to London's dark and seedy alleyways. In time he'd learned to read the subtle language of the body, and it had saved his life. Alex strolled past the girl to the desk, unwilling to spare her another thought, no matter how pretty the chit—his mission was far more important than any problem she could be suffering. He cleared his throat and the scribe jerked upright—his bespeckled eyes widening as he shot to his feet, nearly toppling his stool. "M-m-my l-lord," the clerk stammered, swallowing hard, "w-what can we do for you?" Alex opened his mouth when a thud reverberated in the chamber, interrupting him as the rear door banged open. "Bloody bastard!" The obscenity was spewed by a young man in clean but rude clothing. His jaw was clenched tight, his face red with anger, his body rigid and his hands curled into fists. Dismissing the other, Alexande returned his regard to the clerk. "Yes. I want to see the sheriff. Please tell him Lord Rav—" Alex grunted as something slammed into his shoulder. He spun around, his sword half out of its sheath when he realized it was the angry man. 11

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"Why don't you watch where you're going? Just because you're a bleeding lord doesn't mean you own the bloody place," the young man growled. Alexande let the rapier slip back into place, though his hand remained wrapped about the hilt. "Perhaps you need a lesson in manners," he responded coolly. The man's eyes narrowed and his lips curled back in a snarl. "Is that right? Tell me when and where and I would be more than happy to oblige your lesson." Not only was the young man blinded by his fury, he was a bloody fool—and if there was one thing Alex could not stand it was a hot-headed fool. "If you would like to step outside, I would be more than willing to accommodate," he said with a nonchalance which seemed to infuriate the man further. "Bram, no!" The agitated young woman suddenly appeared and grabbed the man's arm. She turned the full weight of her gaze on Alex—he froze, his breath stilling. "Please, sir, forgive my brother his ill manners. He does not mean what he says," she pleaded, and he found himself arrested by her wide, soulful eyes. Delicate gilt brows arched above large, almond shaped eyes, fringed with long, dark lashes. For an instant, their gazes locked and Alex found himself drowning in the deep amethyst depths of her eyes—sparkling like twin jewels. It was a moment before he observed all her features—her slender, pert nose with its endearing upward tilt. Her delicate, creamy cheeks, beheld but a hint of blush. Her jaw was softly angled, and her dainty chin had the barest hint of a cleft. But 12

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her mouth was borne of every man's fantasy—luscious, full pouty lips, looking as soft as rose petals, beckoned his kiss. He was shocked by a sudden and raw desire to pull her into his arms and ravish her mouth until she was gasping for breath—her brother be damned! Never had he let a woman or sex cloud his keen judgment. "Mayhap I could be persuaded if your brother would be willing to apologize for his...folly," Alex offered. Bram said nothing, his jaw locked. She turned to her brother, her fingers digging into his arm. "Bram, you will apologize to this gentleman, now," she hissed. Alexande almost felt sorry for her brother as the red blush of embarrassment crept into his cheeks, and his eyes spewed fire. He met Alex's regard and, with teeth clenched, spit out his apology. "Forgive me, my lord." "Apology accepted," Alex replied with a cool smile. Before Bram could respond, the young beauty was hauling him away—displaying surprising strength for such a petite thing. He watched until the exquisite vision disappeared out the door, half dragging her brother behind her. Alex turned a thoughtful gaze on the clerk. "Tell me, who was that young lady and her brother?" The little man's Adam's apple bobbed nervously. "Th-that's Miss Aubriana Welbery and her b-brother, Master Bram Welbery." So the lovely chit wasn't married...but that did not necessarily mean she was an innocent. A beauty like that would have scores of men panting after her. 13

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Alex dismissed her from his mind, he was not a man to pine over any woman, and turned to the business at hand. "As I recall, I had asked to see the sheriff. Tell him Lord Ravenspur wishes to speak with him at once." The clerk's eyes bulged and he nodded vigorously. "Y-yes my lord, r-right away!" He turned and stumbling over his feet, sent the stool crashing to the floor. Turning red with mortification, the scribe quickly righted it and made a beeline for the rear portal of the vaulted chamber. "The sheriff will see you now, my lord, if you will but follow me," the clerk informed him upon his return. Alexande nodded and trailed the young man as he led the way into the rear of the hall. Upon opening a door, the clerk announced, "The Marquis of Ravenspur." Alex stepped past the clerk into a chamber better served as a broom closet. The tiny, stifling room was crammed full with bookshelves, a side table littered with decanters of various alcohol, and a massive walnut desk—its scarred surface buried under a mound of haphazardly scattered papers. A whiff of fresh air, wafting into the room from a tiny window set high in the wall, was nearly swallowed by the stench of stale alcohol and sweat. And squeezed into his chair behind the desk, sat the rotund sheriff. The moment the door closed, the sheriff lumbered to his feet. "Orwald Hodgeson, Sheriff. 'Tis a pleasure to meet you, my lord," he said as he waddled around the desk, offering his hand. 14

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Alexande took it and shook it firmly, glad for once he had followed the dictates of fashion—his glove shielding him from the man's sweat-dampened palm. "Would you care for refreshments, my lord?" Hodgeson queried lightly. He turned to the sideboard and poured himself a dram of whiskey. "Tea? Whiskey? Brandy perhaps?" "No, thank you." Alex declined, considering it was barely past nine o'clock in the morning. Amused, he watched as the sheriff downed the contents in one swift pull, before pouring himself another. Alexande surmised Orwald Hodgeson was not just a simple, lazy country gentleman, but something more—a bloated walrus perhaps. His ill-fitting waistcoat stretched across his protruding potbelly, the buttons straining with the effort. His surprisingly fashionable clothes were stained by food and drink, making Alex wonder if the man had even bothered to change clothes from the night before. His grey wig, with its thick sausage curls, sat askew on his bald round pate. He had narrow, beady eyes much too small for his fat face. Though the man could be no older than forty, his red bulbous nose was thickly veined like a drunkard of sixty. And he had the distasteful habit of repeatedly licking his overly plump bottom lip. He seemed like a friendly enough fellow, but Alex took an instant dislike. There was something underneath the surface bothering him. And he had learned well over the years—his instincts were always correct. "So, to what do I owe this visit?" Hodgeson queried as he waddled back around the desk and fell into the creaking 15

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leather chair. He slammed the glass upon the desk, sloshing whiskey over the rim to spill onto the papers beneath. Alexande took his seat and stretched his long legs. "I thought it best to inform you that I have opened Bournemouth Hall, and will be residing there for a few weeks." Hodgeson suddenly leaned back and puffed out his chest, threatening to tear the buttons from his beleaguered waistcoat. He rested his steepled fingers upon his ample belly, and nodded sagely, setting his massive double chin a quiver. "Ah, yes, my lord, I was quite aware you had arrived. The whole town is agog with the news," he acknowledged, a touch arrogant. Alex leaned back and arched a single brow in silent question. The sheriff swallowed nervously. "Yes...well...what I mean to say is your housekeeper, Mrs. Filbert is it?" "Mrs. Fulthrop." "Yes right. Mrs. Fulthrop came into town a fortnight back and while buying supplies from the butcher and the grocer, mentioned you were coming for a visit after all these years. The town has been abuzz with the news, of course. It has been fourteen years since your grandfather's death after all. A bunch of gossiping old biddies is what they are," the sheriff commented with a dismissive wave, before licking his bottom lip. Alexande got the feeling the old gossips of the town weren't the only ones taking an interest in his arrival. "In 16

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either case, I came to ease your mind of any worry concerning the activity at the manor," he said coolly. "And there is another matter which concerns me." Alex reached inside his waistcoat pocket, and retrieved two letters. He tossed them onto the heap the sheriff used for a desk, their seals landing face up. "I have been sent to investigate the recent death of Revenue Officer, Sir Geoffrey Dunn. I think these will explain everything you need to know." Hodgeson stared at the letters as if Alexande had just tossed him a snake. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, before gingerly clasping the top parchment between thumb and forefinger, almost as if he feared the thing had been steeped in poison. Carefully, he opened the missive and angled it toward the meager light streaming through the tiny window. Alexande watched with keen interest as the sheriff's eyes grew wider with each passing moment. He half expected them to pop out of the man's round head and roll around on the floor like marbles. "This is from the Prime Minister, Duke of Newcastle!" Hodgeson said, aghast. "Indeed," Alex commented with utter boredom. "I do not need to tell you that I expect your full cooperation in this matter." "Y-yes, of course, my lord," the sheriff stammered, swallowing hard. He returned his attention to the letter, seeming to read it once more before finally laying it aside. With eyes as wide as 17

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an owl's, he took up the second missive and began to read. Hodgeson's jowls began to quiver, as his hand shook. Reaching blindly, he sought the tumbler of whiskey, and downed the contents in one quick pull. "Are you quite all right?" Alexande inquired, slightly alarmed by the man's sudden ruddy complexion. It looked like the sheriff was going to have an apoplexy right on the spot! Hodgeson glanced up startled, almost as if he'd forgotten there was another in the room. Alex caught the look of utter terror in his dull blue eyes before it was masked by nonchalance. The sheriff set the now empty glass onto the table, and casually folded the letter before tossing it after the other one. He cleared his throat and licked his thick lower lip, before offering a weak smile. "Aye my lord, of course I'm alright. 'Tis not every day one looks upon a missive from the King is all," he proclaimed as if it would explain away his sudden fear—it did not. "I can see if one is unaccustomed to them, one would tend to be a little astounded to receive a letter from His Majesty," Alex returned, offering him an escape. "Indeed, my lord," the sheriff replied a little too quickly. "But...but why would the King and the Prime Minister be concerned with a mere revenue officer's death?" Alex's gaze narrowed sharply as he leaned forward. "That mere revenue officer had friends in high places. In fact, he was sent by the Prime Minister himself to put a stop to the 18

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rampant smuggling permeating this town. Smuggling you are either unable or unwilling or too lazy to police." Hodgeson sputtered at the insult. His brows darkened as he opened his mouth to offer a reply. Alex arched a brow. He'd be more than happy to pay the sheriff in kind for any insult the man was foolish enough to utter. Hodgeson must have seen the warning in Alexande's eyes, for he shut his mouth with an audible click. Alex leaned back and offered him a wolfish smile. Sometimes it paid to have a dangerous reputation. "Then you foresee no problems with my reasons for being here? I can expect your full cooperation?" "No, no problems. And of course you have my full cooperation, my lord," the sheriff hastened to agree. "Good." Alexande rose from his seat and donned his tricorn. Scooping up the two missives, he slipped them back into his waistcoat pocket. "I expect you to keep my reasons for being in Weymouth, private, of course," he said gravely, ensuring the sheriff heard the warning in his tone. Hodgeson swallowed and licked his bottom lip before rising behind his desk. "Aye my lord, you can count on me to keep it safe!" He nodded vigorously, setting his enormous double chin a quiver. "Very good. Until next time then..." Alex nodded to the man, before turning on his heel and stalking from the room. Orwald waited for the soft click of the door before sagging like a sack of flour against the desk. His heart was beating with the speed of a runaway carriage, his lungs wheezed as 19

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he tried to catch his breath like some poor overworked plough horse—one who'd seen better days. Sweat trickled down his brow, he was perspiring under his arms, and fear knotted his guts. I need a drink. He stumbled to the sideboard and fumbled with the decanter of whiskey, cursing his trembling fingers. Grabbing a glass, he filled it to the brim with the potent amber liquid. He snatched the tumbler and threw the contents straight down his throat. The whiskey ran down his jowls and seeped into the stained ruffles of his neck cloth. Slamming the tumbler onto the table, he poured himself another glassful before drinking it. The comforting heat burned its way down his throat and warmed his belly. But his hands—his hands refused to steady. Orwald banged the glass onto the table and swallowed, desperate to fight the rising panic threatening to consume him. He was deep in it now—they all were. But if he didn't find a way out and soon... "I'm a dead man." **** The old swayback wheezed and trembled beneath its heavy burden as it slowly plodded up the trail to the cresting cliffs. Orwald Hodgeson tugged sharply on the reins, and the poor beast of burden whinnied in protest before shuddering to 20

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a halt. They sat upon the summit, staring into the enveloping darkness and waited. Orwald shivered as icy fingers of the wind slid down his back in a chilly caress before playfully snatching at his hat. He slapped a podgy hand upon his tricorn, and stared into the deepening night as the ominous-looking ruins of Sandsfoot Castle stared silently back. The white moon cast its silvery light upon the land, yet seemed to fall short of the broken castle, as if Night herself had staked claim upon the black hulk. The sea-scented breeze danced gleefully across the grass before twirling in a merry circle about Orwald and his aging mount. He inhaled the briny scent, as he listened to the symphony of the waves buffeting the cliffs far below, battering against the land in their age old struggle of domination. Orwald stilled, his muscles clenching, his heart beating a frantic refrain as light suddenly appeared in the darkened ruins. Three times it flashed before it was snuffed by the gloom. Thank God. Orwald exhaled a long sigh of relief. He's here. But the knowledge did not slow his thunderous pulse, nor did it ease the tension creeping through his body. He tightened his sweaty palms upon the reins, and digging his heels into the nag's sides, urged it into a lumbering canter toward the castle. 21

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Orwald pulled sharply on the reins before hefting his bulk from the saddle. He leaned against the swayback for a moment, to catch his breath, and his nerve. What I wouldn't give for a drink. He licked his bottom lip and resisted the temptation to pull out the cool flask resting in his waistcoat pocket. He needed something to steady his frazzled nerves, but he'd learned his lesson when dealing with him. It was always best to keep a clear head and his wits for there was no telling what could happen. But afterwards, he would get "drunk as a lord" and no one would dare gainsay him. It was one of the perks of being the sheriff. He pushed away from the nag, and carefully maneuvered his way over the loose and crumbling rock to the castle's gaping entrance. He paused upon the stone landing and peered down into the cavernous ruins. The moonlight peeped through the roofless keep to illuminate the grass carpet and underbrush now claiming the once solid stone floor. Huge blocks of broken stone, having tumbled from the decaying structure, littered the ground. Sinister shadows untouched by the soft silvery rays blanketed much of the castle. Fear made Orwald's jowls twitch, and his nostrils flare. But no matter how much he longed to turn back, he couldn't—he was waiting, watching. He licked his bottom lip. Orwald teetered down the moldering steps, sending a spray of pebbles before him. He heaved a silent breath of thanks when his feet touched the soft ground. His gaze 22

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shifted to the shadows and he stilled. A sharp snap of a fan flicked open and drew his attention to the rear of the keep. Slowly he waddled his way between the boulders and sparse foliage to the deepest of the shadows. The roar of the crashing waves was almost deafening here, for the rear wall had crumbled into the ocean years ago, leaving a yawning chasm for the sea spray and the stars. The wind screeched and howled as it raced through the skeleton castle, like a banshee displeased with the invasion of her lair. A shiver of fear skittered down Orwald's spine as he stepped into the murky shade. "Hodgeson." The voice was deep and gravely, and almost had Orwald leaping from his skin. "M-my l-lord?" he stammered. "What was so bloody important that you could not wait until our scheduled meeting?" the voice queried harshly. Orwald inhaled a deep breath attempting to still his rapid pulse—unsuccessfully. "My l-lord, I come bearing news of great import," he began, reciting the speech he'd practiced over and over again in his head on the way there. "Get on with it man!" the shadow thundered impatiently. "W-well, I-I thought it best you know th-that the Marquis of Ravenspur has opened Bournemouth Hall, and shall be residing there for a few weeks." Silence. Orwald stumbled backwards as he glided forward, fury emanating from his body. "You disturbed my evening to tell me Lord Ravenspur has finally taken residence at Bournemouth?!" His voice rose to a 23

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shout as he slid into the moonlight, his face a contorted mask of rage. "Do you take me for a blind fool?" "N-nay, m-my lord Espion," Orwald hastened to reply, his jowls quivering with fear. Espion narrowed his eyes. "Did you think I would not have spies to tell me this? I even have a spy watching you." Orwald swallowed hard and forced the lump of fear back down his throat. "B-but my lord, what of Ravenspur's investigation? If he learns you're behind—" "So...the game has begun..." Espion interrupted. He stared off into the darkness lost in thought, and absently fanned himself. Orwald gazed at the black fan grasped in Espion's long, elegant fingers. There was something disturbing about it— though it wasn't uncommon for fashionable gentleman to carry one. Trimmed with black Spanish lace, and decorated with swirling patterns of black crystals, it was lovely, even mesmerizing. But black? Black was the color of mourning...the color of death. And Espion took the fan with him everywhere he went. Orwald shuddered. The silence was broken only by the waves crashing against the rocky cliffs below. Espion's intelligent gaze suddenly settled upon Orwald, scrutinizing him. "'Twould seem it would be best to keep a closer eye on Ravenspur. We need to put a spy to work in Bournemouth Hall. There must be someone already working there...someone who was loyal to the old earl but resents the Rogue Marquis' presence. Use whatever means you must to bring them over to our side. Bribe, blackmail, threaten, I care 24

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not. You can even install one of your birds from the village if you wish. Just do it." "As you wish, my lord." "And another thing, make sure you are as cooperative as possible with the bastard." "But my lord?!" Orwald exclaimed, astonished. Espion's eyes narrowed to hard, glittering slits. "You will help him in anything he requires from you, and then you will report to me. You know not whom you deal with. Ravenspur is a wily fellow, too sly for the likes of you. Do as you must, but you will report everything the man does to me, is that clear?" he questioned, his voice a menacing growl as he snapped the fan closed. "Aye, my lord Espion," Orwald hastily replied. I know just the girl who would make the perfect spy... [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Two **** Aubri could scarcely believe her good fortune—that she, Aubriana Isabella Welbery, had been hired to work as an upper housemaid for five shillings a week. Five shillings a week! It was a fantastic sum of money, especially to a girl from a poor family—a family who farmed a miserable plot of land which yielded only a few pounds in the best of years. But then Sheriff Hodgeson had told her a position was waiting for her at Bournemouth Hall. Aubriana supposed she shouldn't have doubted him. She had been more than a little surprised when the sheriff had approached her while she waited for her brother outside The King's Arm Inn. "My dear, there is something of great import I must discuss with you. I realize this may seem a trifle unseemly, but you are just the girl I need." Aubri had eyed him wearily. "Oh?" The sheriff puffed out his chest. "I have received word from the King himself that there is a villain in our midst. It seems the Marquis of Ravenspur has been financing the local smugglers and may be responsible for that Revenue Officer's death." Aubri gasped in surprise. "Truly?"

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"Yes. And what is worse," Sheriff Hodgeson had lowered his voice to a stage whisper, "the Prime Minster has informed me it is possible Lord Ravenspur is a traitor." "Dear lord!" Aubri exclaimed. "He is lining his pockets with blunt earned from the blood of good Englishmen. But a bright, pretty girl like you, Miss Welbery, could put an end to his treacherous ways." "H-how?" she asked. How could she possibly prevent anything? "By spying on Lord Ravenspur." The suggestion had left her speechless. He'd gone on to tell her the king would generously reward her for her services, and might even commend her. But it must be kept strictly secret, and under no circumstances was she to tell anyone of her mission—including her family. He'd given her a guinea and told her she would receive far more after she completed her "duty." For a week she'd grappled with indecision. Aubri had never undertaken anything of the kind in her entire life. To spy on a peer of the realm who was a traitor to king and country was not only exciting, but exceedingly dangerous. Yet as she'd watched her younger sisters patch yet another hole in their skirts; their mother—ill from a weak heart—labor over a boiling pot filled with the neighbor's laundry; and her father struggle to keep the rabbits and vole-mice from eating the new seedlings—Aubri had realized the choice was much easier to make than she'd originally thought. "Out of the bloody way! Do you want to get run over?" An angry male voice shouted. 27

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Aubri glanced back, shocked to find a carriage and two barreling down upon her. She'd been so wrapped up in her thoughts she hadn't even heard it coming down the road. It rumbled past, barely missing her. She coughed as a cloud of dust kicked up in the coach's wake enveloped her. And as it passed, she would have sworn she heard the coachman mumble, "Bloody beggar." Aubriana's cheeks warmed with embarrassment at the coachman's words. He'd called her a beggar. She glanced down in shame at her threadbare skirts and scuffed slippers. It was not the first time she'd been labeled as such. Her entire family suffered such prejudices at the hands of the villagers because they were among the poorest in all the county. Aubri curled her hand into a fist, her nails digging into the tender flesh of her palm. Fury rushed through her veins, burning away her shame. Why should she be mortified by her attire? It was Lord Ravenspur's fault her family was in dire straits! For fourteen years he had neglected his tenants leaving them to flounder. And all of them had suffered—her family the most. No wonder Bram had turned to smuggling. His illgotten gains put food on the table. The marquis's grandfather may have been a stiff-lipped nobleman, but he'd known to take care of the people who depended upon him. Nothing of the kind could be said of Lord Ravenspur. And now she knew he was the most vile of villains. Aubri clutched her portman and used her anger to propel her forward, putting one sore foot in front of the other. Before 28

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long, she was walking down a long treed drive. Her anger evaporated and her pulse surged as she caught her first glimpse of the manor house. A storm of butterflies alighted in her stomach as she stood in awe of the full magnificence of Bournemouth Hall. My gods, I've never seen the like. It was an H-shaped, three story Elizabethan Manor. It had to be three hundred feet wide, with a multitude of huge glittering windows. At least twenty chimneys rose from the roof, each decorated in a beautiful knotted design. Arched bay windows accented each floor, and the warm yellow sandstone walls made the majestic house seem as if it had been born of the sun. It was awe-inspiring. There must be a hundred rooms! Surely I will not be responsible for them all? "Miss Welbery?" a stiff voice called. Aubriana tore her gaze away from the magnificent edifice and found a tall man standing on the landing of the wide stairs leading to the entrance. He was impeccably dressed in his blue with silver braid livery, and pristine white cravat and gloves. His grey hair was perfectly groomed with thick sausage-like curls, his disciplined posture rigid, and his face devoid of emotion. Aubri felt the heat of a blush creep into her cheeks. How he must think her the stupefied country bumpkin. Here she was, wearing her best country dress, which was little more than serviceable, gawking at his master's mansion. 29

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Straightening her spine, she tightened her hold on the worn portman stuffed with her meager belongings, and made her way up the stairs. She paused beside him. "Thank you, Mr...?" "Wiggins—the butler, Miss Welbery," he informed her with an air of authority, his eyes mirroring nothing but the world around him. He must be the epitome of a proper servant. I must become like him. "Thank you, Mr. Wiggins," she said softly as she sank into an awkward curtsy with the portman tucked under one arm. She struggled to contain the nervous flutter in her belly. He gave a polite nod, before turning on his heel, and opening the massive double oak doors to admit her inside. "Welcome to the home of the Marquis of Ravenspur," he stated with a hint of pride. Aubriana stumbled to a halt, taken aback by the splendor of her surroundings. It was simply the foyer, and yet it was stunning with its thick honey-oak paneling, ornate plaster ceiling, Grecian marble columns, and hardwood floor. Sunlight streamed into the room from the bank of windows, giving the chamber a warm, golden glow. The foyer alone was larger than her family's entire house. "This way, miss," Wiggins commanded as he led the way through a long, opulent gallery and into a massive, vaulted chamber. "The great hall." Aubriana stood in the centre of the vast room, surrounded by oak paneling nearly reaching the ornate, polished plaster 30

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ceiling. A massive deep red and cream Persian carpet hid half of the hardwood floor. A cream and red veined marble hearth as tall as a man and looking wide enough to roast an entire ox was built into the opposite wall—a warm crackling fire sat snugly in its gleaming grate. Above the wide marble mantle, was the coat-of-arms of Queen Elizabeth I, emblazoned in full color. And forming a line on either side, looked to be the coatof-arms of all the former Earls of Winton, with shields and swords proudly displayed in-between. At either end of the great hall, were wide winding stairs which led up to open galleries and the second story. There was even a set of galleries above that, which had to belong to the third story. And tucked below the stairs were doors and hallways which Aubri presumed led to the lower levels and the servants' quarters, no doubt where she would be sleeping and spending much of her time. There was no question, the great hall was the hub of the Elizabethan Mansion. Aubri was startled from her reverie by the sharp rap of high-heeled slippers. She glanced over and found a woman stalking toward her from one of the lower galleries. She was tall and thin, her movements stiff, her back rigid. Her mouth was drawn taught in her pinched face, as she raked Aubri from head to toe with her cold, disapproving gaze. Her nose was long and narrow, her cheeks gaunt, and her iron-grey hair was pulled back in a severe bun and covered by a plain linen cap. Her apron was glaringly white against her wide brown dress. 31

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Aubri had the awful feeling she would be working under this woman. The woman cast the butler a baleful glare as she came to a stiff halt before them. A sudden tension mounted the air between the two servants. Wiggins cleared his throat. "Miss Aubriana Welbery, this is the housekeeper, Mrs. Fulthrop," he said making the briefest introduction. "Mrs. Fulthrop, will you please show Miss Welbery to her room and see her settled." The housekeeper's eyes narrowed, her nostrils flared and her face seemed to become even more pinched. She glared at the butler, her mouth drawn into a scowl as if she had just bitten into something particularly distasteful. Aubri swallowed hard when the woman turned the full measure of her icy gaze on her. "Follow me," Mrs. Fulthrop ordered, before turning sharply on her heels, and stalking away without a backward glance. Aubriana jumped at the command, feeling uncertain for the first time since accepting the position. Would she be working under the woman for the next three or four months? She'd been informed Bournemouth Hall would only be open for as long as it took Lord Ravenspur to "see" to his tenants before going on to his other estates. She suddenly wondered if it was worth the pay, though she could hardly forego sixty-four shillings. Not when her family desperately needed the money, not when she'd given the sheriff her word. She turned to the butler and spoke softly. "Thank you for everything, Mr. Wiggins." 32

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The butler remained indifferent as he inclined his head, and yet she sensed a warmth emanate from him. Aubri had to run to catch up with the housekeeper who'd almost reached the lower hallway beneath the stairs. "This way leads to the servant quarters and the kitchens. There are many ways to reach this area which I'm sure you will be quick to discover," Mrs. Fulthrop remarked crisply. "Yes ma'am." The plain hallway gently sloped downward making it easier to traverse than the stairs, and was lighted at regular intervals with oil lamps. As they neared the end, Aubri heard the sounds of talking and laughter. They emerged into the kitchen and instantly the laughter stopped. The housekeeper turned to regard Aubriana, her lips pursed with disapproval. "The kitchens are the domain of Mr. and Mrs. Pickles. You will find their cuisine to be exceptional. The laundry room, the larder, and the pantry are off the kitchen," Mrs. Fulthrop commented as she moved briskly through the large kitchen. She paused briefly to show Aubri what looked to be a large dining room. "This is the dining hall, which you will share with the other servants. Myself, Mr. Wiggins, the coachman, the gamekeeper, and the head gardener dine in my own chambers each day." Aubriana had barely gotten a glimpse when the housekeeper moved on. The hallway now split into three.

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"Now we enter the servants' quarters. The right side is for the men, the left for the ladies. If you keep going straight, it will take you outside to the stables. "The stairs on the left leads to my chambers and to the third story of the west wing. The right stairs lead to the Mr. Wiggins's chambers and the third story of the East wing. The fourth story of both wings is the attic." Mrs. Fulthrop led her down the women's hall to the fifth door and stepped inside. "This is to be your room. It's clean and adequate." Aubri stood just inside and surveyed her new lodgings. It was much smaller than the chamber she'd shared with her two younger sisters, Lydia and Amber. The whitewash walls made it very plain, but it was certainly clean. It contained a small single bed, a chest of drawers, a mirror, a table, a single chair, and wardrobe. The housekeeper strode to the wardrobe and flung the doors wide. Inside hung three drabgrey gowns. "These are to be your uniforms. Try them on and make any adjustments you see fit before the morrow." Mrs. Fulthrop shut the wardrobe and turned her cold regard on Aubriana. "The water closet is at the end of the hall. When you require a bath, there is a chamber off the kitchen with a serviceable tub. You will be expected to heat and haul the water yourself. "You will rise at six o'clock sharp each and every morning. Breakfast is served in the servant's hall at six-thirty, no exceptions. We do not tolerate slugabeds, do you understand?" 34

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Aubri swallowed and nodded. "Yes ma'am." "Tea is served at eleven, dinner at two and supper at eight. If you are late, you go without." "Yes ma'am." "As an upper housemaid, you are responsible for the third floor of the west wing and the study and library which are on the second. Your duties will include: dusting and polishing the guest rooms and attending the master's chambers. You are to stoke the fire in the bedroom and antechamber, and open the curtains at precisely eight o'clock. Though his lordship does not awaken as some ought, he is not a slugabed. On Sundays, Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays, he requires a bath at eight-thirty. Molly, another upper maid, will help you haul the water for his baths. After Mr. Wiggins has attended him and he goes for his morning ride, you are to air out his chamber, change his bed clothes, put away any clothing the laundry-maid has washed, empty the chamber pot and clean it, scorch the basin and water ewer before refilling it, and keep his quarters polished and dust free. The rugs are beaten once a month and bedclothes of the guest chambers changed once a week. You must clean and polish the study daily, but this can only be accomplished when the master is not occupying the room. "Your job here is to work. You are not to address or converse with the master unless he has spoken to you first. You are never to look at him unless he commands it and you are never to disturb him while he is in his study. If you overstep the bounds of your duties you will be dismissed— 35

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immediately. Do you understand?" The housekeeper demanded sharply. "Y-yes ma'am," Aubri hastened to reply. Mrs. Fulthrop eyed her for a long, suspicious moment, before nodding. "Very well. You will receive a half day off on Saturday and Sunday. You had best unpack your things and see to your uniforms for any adjustments. Dinner will be served at two o'clock in the Servant's Hall. Afterward, Molly will show you about the house and in particular the west wing. And you will begin your duties then." Without another word, the housekeeper turned on her heel and briskly marched from the room. Aubri flinched when the door slammed shut behind her. She glanced at her surroundings before slowly sinking onto the little bed, and tried to dispel the sudden wave of loneliness which threatened to drown her. **** "He's a rogue, ye know." "Who?" Aubri asked as she spread the clean linen over the bed of the guest chamber. Molly rolled her eyes, and the look on her face was so comical, Aubri could barely bite back her smile. "The master, of course. I couldn't very well be talkin' about Mr. Wiggins." Aubri giggled at the thought of the distinguished butler being a Lothario. "I didn't know." "Where have you been hiding?" Molly mocked as she grabbed the bundle of dirty bedclothes and tossed them out into the hall. 36

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Aubri ducked her head, her cheeks burning with embarrassment as she concentrated on tucking the corner of the sheet. "The farm, I guess," she murmured. "Well, it's about time you heard all the gossip. Believe me, I've worked for all the local noblemen and Lord Ravenspur is by far the most interesting," Molly stated with an air of authority. Aubriana glanced up surprised. "How so?" "Well," the maid said lowering her voice. "He was banished from London for dueling with a cuckolded husband." "I don't believe it!" "Don't you know he's the most famous rogue in England? They call him the Rogue Marquis. He's known for seducing every beautiful woman to catch his fancy and then dueling with their husbands at dawn. And he never loses." "Never?" Aubri asked. "Never," Molly replied firmly as she helped Aubri spread the soft counterpane over the bed. "And he hated his grandfather, Lord Winton. In fact, it's a wonder he came to Bournemouth at all. Not that I'm entirely surprised, the earl was a grumpy, old dragon who never had a kind word to say about anyone." "Miss Littell!" came an irate shout. Aubri nearly jumped out of her skin when Mrs. Fulthrop came striding into the room, her mouth pursed with disapproval as she leveled Molly with her frosty gaze. "How many times must I warn you about gossiping about his lordship? Lord Winton was a good and honorable man and he will not be maligned in this house!" 37

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Molly dutifully cast her eyes downward and primly folded her hands before her like a chastised child. "Forgive me, Mrs. Fulthrop, I shouldn't have spoken ill of the old master." "Humph," the housekeeper responded as she turned her icy glare on Aubri. Aubriana could not meet the other's cold gaze and busied herself by straightening the bedclothes. "I had best not hear it spoken again, Miss Littell, or you will be dismissed from your post." With that, the irate woman stormed from the room, her back rigid with indignation. The moment the housekeeper left, Molly relaxed and made a face at the portal. "The nasty old bat," she muttered. She turned to Aubriana and smiled. "Did you know she was the old dragon's mistress?" Aubri blinked, completely taken aback. "Mrs. Fulthrop?" "Oh aye. After the earl's wife died, he hired Mrs. Fulthrop on as the housekeeper, but she was really his mistress. That's why she acts like she has a cob stuck up her arse, to keep the real reason she was hired a secret. But the old bat forgets there were those who were here long before her, like the Pickles. And that's why she hates Lord Ravenspur." "But why would she hate his lordship?" Aubri wondered. "Because he's nothing like his stodgy, mean-tempered grandfather. He's a rogue and he does as he pleases and doesn't give a damn what anyone thinks about it." It didn't exactly surprise Aubri to learn Lord Ravenspur didn't give a damn about anything—look what he'd done to his own tenants. "How do you know all of this?" she demanded. 38

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Molly flashed a pert smile. "Why George told me, of course." Aubri shook her head as she grabbed a polishing rag and began to clean the mantle. She'd met George and all the other servants at dinner. He was one of five footmen, and of the three which had arrived with Lord Ravenspur. And there was certainly no doubt in her mind that George was sweet on Molly. "Besides, the master won't be gotten rid of so easily. At least not until he completes his mission," Molly continued as she began dusting the empty crystal vase. Aubriana stilled. His lordship's mission? The sheriff had told her to keep her eyes and ears open for any information, but he'd never mentioned the marquis had a mission. She glanced over her shoulder. "What sort of mission?" "I haven't clue, but I intend to find out," Molly replied with a mischievous smile as she wiggled her brows. Poor George was about to find himself in a heap of trouble. Aubri laughed to hide her disappointment, and hoped Molly could wheedle more information out of George. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Three **** Alexande was wide awake the instant he heard the chamber door softly open...and close with the faintest click. He reached beneath his pillow, his fingers wrapping around the smooth butt of the flintlock he hid there. Years ago, on a mission in France, he'd been attacked in the dead of night and had been hard pressed to fight off his assailant. He'd learned from that near fatal mistake to always be armed, especially in bed. His breath slow and easy, he watched beneath his lashes as a shape stealthily made its way across his bedroom, making nary a sound. A moment later the thick velvet curtains were thrown wide, welcoming the morning light as it stormed the chamber and chased away the meager shadows. Alex relaxed and released the pistol. Of course, it was none other than his saucy maid, Molly. She flirted with him outrageously and he'd begun to wonder why he'd resisted bedding her. With her chestnut curls, hazel eyes, pert nose, and bow mouth, she was as cute and feisty as a kitten. He sat up and leaned against the pillows. Crossing his arms behind his head, he was content to watch her light the kindling stacked in the fireplace. Her arse wiggled in the air as she bent to open the flue and Alex felt a rush of desire turning his morning arousal to a full blooded erection. 40

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"Viewing your pretty ass in the morning is a fine way for a man to awaken," he offered with a smile. The maid gasped. Straightening, she spun around and stared at him in shock. "I beg your pardon?!" Alex stared at the stunning creature who was most certainly not Molly. This girl had the kind of beauty which addled a man's wits, and there was something vaguely familiar about her. He couldn't quite tell the nature of her hair hidden beneath that ugly cap, but it had to be a pale gold by the delicate arch of her brows. Her slender nose and full luscious lips caused the languid desire pulsing through his veins to quicken. But it was her eyes—their captivating amethyst depths—which jogged his memory. It was the girl with the hot-headed fool for a brother. He never forgot a name or a face, especially one with eyes like those. "I believe 'tis I who must beg pardon," he replied and flashed her his most charming smile—a smile known to make even the most jaded courtesan swoon. Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly, and her gaze dropped to his chest before darting to the floor. Her cheeks instantly pinked and she clasped her hands before her in a demure fashion. His smile deepened. The counterpane had slid to his waist, revealing his very naked chest. He toyed with the idea of slipping out of bed just to see her reaction. For not only was he entirely nude, but his cock was rock hard and in dire need of attention. "Aubriana, isn't it?" he queried. 41

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She glanced up surprised, before her gaze darted back to the floor. "Yes, my lord," she murmured. "Please forgive me." Alex wasn't sure what she was referring to, not that it really mattered. "I can assure you there is nothing to forgive." When she said nothing and continued to stare at her feet, he realized it was probably one of Mrs. Fulthrop's infernal rules. "You may look at me when you address me, Aubriana. In fact, you may look at me any time you please." Nervous, she looked at him for a moment before glancing away. "Thank you, my lord." Alexande sighed. He wasn't getting anywhere with the chit, and he knew a sudden need to bed her—it had been more than a week since he'd had a woman, which was far too long for a man who normally enjoyed a bevy of beauties at his beck and call. "I've decided to take my bath today." She stared at him in surprise. "B-but my l-lord," she sputtered, "'tis Wednesday, and the water hasn't..." Her voice trailed off when he arched a brow in question. "There is no need for alarm, I can assure you. I would be more than happy to wait for the water to heat. Now that I think about it, I shall have a bath each day and I require you to bathe me." Aubri felt her cheeks flame with embarrassment and wondered if she was about to burn to cinders. The man really was a scoundrel. He wants me to bathe him? Is this normal? She couldn't recall Mrs. Fulthrop stating she had to bathe the marquis, only to haul the water with Molly's help. But 42

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then she knew little of what was required of an upper housemaid. Aubri bit her lower lip as she grappled with her anxiety. The last time she bathed a man, or rather a boy, was her youngest brother William and he'd been six. That was two years ago. Of course she'd seen both Bram and William naked whenever they went swimming in the pond at the rear of the farm, but washing a total stranger? And what was worse, she'd suddenly recognized him—it was the gentleman her hot-headed brother had nearly called out at the town hall. She prayed to the gods he did not remember her, for she feared she'd die of mortification if he did. She dare not protest for fear of dismissal—there could be dire consequences should she lose the post, she had a mission to complete after all. "As you wish, my lord," she replied as she curtseyed. Aubri turned to the fire, and placed a log on the growing flames before darting out of the room, staying the possibility of another outrageous command. Aubriana was almost completely out of breath when she finally found Molly in the laundry room, carefully folding a stack of freshly washed silk curtains. "Molly," she gasped, "his lordship is demanding his bath now." Molly turned around and planted her hands on her hips. "Well, did ye tell him it was only Wednesday?" Aubri's cheeks heated. "Yes. But he told me he now wants a bath everyday and he wants me to bathe him." 43

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Molly grinned at that. "I just bet 'e does," came a snide remark. Aubri turned around and watched as Becky, the scullery maid, sauntered into the room. She had red hair which always looked mussed as though she'd just gotten out of bed, her face was pretty and her voluptuous breasts threatened to spill from the dull grey uniform, which seemed to suit her perfectly. It had taken Aubriana a while to realize the girl had made the dress fit that way using her own unique alterations. And how the girl could go around without a linen cap and not get into trouble with Mrs. Fulthrop was a wonder in itself. There was certainly no denying that men wanted her. Next to the scullery maid, Aubri felt like a dull, drab mouse. Becky raked Aubriana with a scornful glance. "But why 'e wants a scrawny thing like ye to service 'im is beyond me." Molly flashed her a nasty smile. "Mayhap he knows quality when he sees it, and doesn't want a common trollop rolling in his bed." Becky glared at the upper housemaid, her lip curled back in a sneer. "We'll just see about that." Molly snorted as the girl spun on her heel and stalked from the room, her hips sashaying from side to side. "Becky thinks she can make men fall in love with her if she sleeps with them. What she doesn't know is they're only willin' to use her until somethin' better comes along. Besides, she's a rat for Mrs. Fulthrop." "What do you mean?" Aubri asked.

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"She spies on the other servants and runs to the old bat to tell her everythin' she hears. Be sure to watch what ye say around that one," Molly warned. **** It was almost an hour later when Aubri poured the last bucket of steaming water into the large porcelain tub. And it was the most exhausting work she'd ever done. Hauling water from the well to the kitchen at home was nothing compared to hauling buckets upon buckets of hot and cold water to a chamber on the third floor of a great house. She set the bucket aside and laid out the soft Turkish towel and washing cloth on a chair before she began rolling up her sleeves. At least Molly had regaled her with gossip making the chore that much easier to bear. A bead of sweat trickled between her breasts. Pulling out her kerchief, she discreetly dabbed at her face, neck and chest. She tucked the handkerchief up her sleeve and waited for Lord Ravenspur to finish his coffee and his conversation with the butler. "Thank you, Wiggins, that will be all," the marquis casually commanded. "As you wish, my lord," Wiggins returned with a nod of his head as he retrieved the coffee service. Aubri kept her gaze averted as he strode past. "Miss Welbery," the butler greeted her with casual indifference. She looked up surprised. "Mr. Wiggins," she said softly as she sank into a curtsey. 45

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His lips twitched with the barest hint of a smile before exiting the room. "I'm ready for my bath now, Aubriana," Lord Ravenspur remarked. An odd little thrill shot down her spine at the sound of his voice. She'd never thought of a man's voice being attractive before, but the marquis's deep velvet baritone was more than pleasing. Bracing herself for the worst, she spared him a glance and was immensely relieved to find him attired in a dark velvet robe. He strode toward her with an easy grace, like a wolf stalking its prey. She swallowed, desperate to still the wings fluttering madly in her stomach. He halted before her and without a word, pulled on the sash and removed his robe. The marquis was completely naked beneath. She gasped at the sight of his nude body and quickly averted her eyes. He touched her then, a single finger beneath her chin, and gently forced her to meet his gaze. "Have you ever bathed a man before?" Startled by his question, Aubri hastened to reply. "I...I've only ever bathed my brother," she whispered, suddenly mesmerized by the deep depths of his smoky gaze. His eyes crinkled in the corners as amusement touched his lips. "Your brother Bram?"

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She was taken aback for a moment, until she realized he didn't know a thing about her family. "No, my youngest brother, William." "Ahhh," he murmured before his lips curled into the most devastating smile she'd ever seen. It was then Aubri realized the marquis was astonishingly attractive. A dark Adonis. Lord Ravenspur was so devilishly handsome, he arrested her senses. He exuded power, a wicked sensuality, sending tingles running up and down her body. She was breathless just being near him. Dangerous, her mind whispered in warning. Yes, he is dangerous. In more ways than one, she'd best remember that. And yet, against her will, Aubri realized there was an exciting edge to all that danger—like playing with fire. A temptation which could cause a girl to burn if she fell into his wicked bed. She blushed hotly from the untoward thoughts, but she could not help it. He was too attractive, too...captivating... And his eyes... He had the eyes of a predator—grey and piercing like a wolf's. His dark brows arched above those astonishing eyes, fringed by dark lashes. Wavy ebony hair lay loosely about his shoulders, making him seem wild and untamed. His cheekbones were high, his nose aquiline—coming to a gentle point. His jaw was square, his chin blunted with a deep cleft. 47

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There was a shadow of stubble on his cheeks, adding to his dangerous mien. And his mouth...heavens...his mouth was full, and thoroughly masculine, yet sensually compelling. A wave of desire suddenly broke over Aubri—the need to feel those lips moving over hers, kissing her with an abandon she'd only ever experienced in her most fevered dreams. A scalding heat suddenly filled her cheeks at her shockingly wanton desires. Entranced, Aubri watched as his eyes grew heavy and his gaze dropped to her mouth. He leaned in until their lips were a breath apart. She gasped, her heart beating wildly, her pulse roaring in her veins. Their lips touched. Aubriana leapt backwards, breaking the contact. What was she doing? She stared up at him, her breath harsh as shock and desire raced up and down her body, making her hot and uncomfortable under her own skin. Her mouth was dry and a strange ache curled between her thighs. The warmth of his smile was replaced by cool cynicism as he straightened to his full height. He was much taller than she'd first realized, for she had to tip back her head to look him in the eyes. "And here I thought we had come to a mutual understanding," he murmured as his hard gaze bore into hers. Without another word, he turned and slid into the tub. The water rose dangerously high, threatening to spill over the rim 48

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until he settled in. He lay his arms along the sides and leaned forward. "I'm waiting Aubriana," he commented softly, yet there was an underlying hardness in his tone. Aubri stared at his back, her nostrils flared as the heat of mortification burned away the haze of desire. How dare he treat her that way! Molly was certainly right, the man was a rogue. He was also her enemy. She'd best remember her true purpose here lest she succumb to the marquis's charms. Heaving a sigh, she sat on the little stool and took up the washing cloth. As she lathered it with the sandalwood soup, she was unable to account for the trembling of her hands. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Four **** Alexande was in the grips of hell. He stalked down the hallway on ground-eating strides, his teeth grinding and his body rigid with tension. It had been five days since the chit had become his maid. Five agonizing days of pure sensual torture, and he'd yet to bed her. Alex was beginning to wonder if the girl was a coquette. He hated coquettes. He hated women who sought to control men through manipulation and deceit. They lured their victims then pushed them away. They played it hot and cold until their admirers fell to their knees, begging for a chance to touch them, to kiss them, while writhing in frustration. His mother had been just such a woman. She'd seduced with her charms, her beauty, lulled her lovers with a false affection before thrusting them out into the cold. She'd even done it to her own sons, forcing them to plead and beg for a love which should have been rightfully theirs. But after a single terrible incident, Alex was never again a fool for her or any woman. But Aubriana confounded him. He was captivated by her beauty, the purity of her nature. He sensed within her such a deep seated passion, he hungered to release it, to nurture and shape it to his whim. He did not believe her shyness false, nor did he believe she 50

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was capable of guile. Yet there were times when she looked upon him with flames in her eyes, filled with such wantonness it nearly drove him to madness. And yet...at other times, he could swear the heat transformed into hatred. What had he done to the chit? He'd tried allaying her fears, charming her with kindness. But each time passion consumed her, she fled as though her feet were on fire. Just this morning she'd watched him disrobe for his bath, her curiosity conspicuous though her gaze remained furtive—inciting his desire to overwhelming heights. Distraught by her own reaction, she'd turned to test the water. He'd walked up behind her, and gently placing his hands upon her shoulders, pressed a soft kiss to the nape of her neck. She'd recoiled and nearly fell head first into the tub in her haste to avoid him. Furious, Alex had ordered her from his sight and she'd fled with silent tears falling down her cheeks. He'd felt all the more wretched for making her cry. But damnation, the chit was driving him mad! By rights he should just walk away. There were a dozen women in Bournemouth Hall alone whom he could bed—all of them willing. Why did he keep torturing himself this way? It wasn't like him. Long ago, he'd learned women were for pleasure and nothing more. He seduced for the sake of the conquest. He gave pleasure to his ladies only because it increased his own. And when he was satisfied, he simply walked away, never giving a damn to the broken hearts he left in his wake. 51

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Alexande stumbled to a halt as someone ran into him, impeding his progress. "Oh, forgive me milord, I didn't see ye there." He glanced down and found himself staring into sultry, blue eyes. She was a maid by the cut of her dull grey gown—though he certainly would have remembered her if he'd seen her before. Her thick, red hair flowed freely down her back in soft waves—unhindered by a linen cap. She had long dark lashes and a red lush mouth. There was no doubt she was pretty. Her large breasts daringly displayed by the surprisingly low bodice of the gown, enhanced her voluptuous figure. She clung to him as though she might topple if she were to let go. He gently gripped her arms to steady her. But instead of pulling away, she leaned closer and pressed her breasts against his chest. "I hope I didn't startle ye, milord." Her voice had a breathless quality as she regarded him coyly. Instantly, Alex knew her game. He glanced at the open doorway beside them and saw that the room was dark. She must have been waiting for him to walk by. "You needn't worry, I'm hardly surprised," he replied with a cynical smile. She pouted and dared to run a finger up his chest. His nostrils flared and his body, already in the grips of frustrated desire, tightened—his cock growing harder by the moment. She stared up at him, sex gleaming in her eyes as a come hither smile curled her lips. 52

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There was no doubt she was a woman who knew how to pleasure a man. In fact, he was willing to guess she was well used, and thought she could control men with sex. He felt sorry for the fools who fell for her well-worn charms, for once she sunk her claws in, she would never let go. "What were you doing in that chamber?" he casually queried. He knew she wasn't one of the upper maids, for only Molly and Aubriana cleaned the west wing, nor did he believe she was one of the under housemaids. "Why, I was cleaning of course." They both knew it for the lie it was. Alex slowly backed her against the wall, until she was trapped against his body. He knew it was foolish to bed this woman for she would see it as a means to control him. But he was so tormented by his yearning for Aubriana that he needed immediate relief. He ran a finger over the soft skin of her breasts and flashed her his most charming smile. "What is your name?" "Becky," she whispered. He pressed his erection against her thigh as he leaned in and she gasped. He nuzzled her skin just below her ear and she moaned. "I would be very pleased to become better acquainted with you, Becky, if you would permit me," he murmured against her skin. "Yes, milord," she groaned as he kissed her neck. Alexande was so aroused, he was on the verge of lifting her skirts and taking her right there in the hall. He closed his eyes and inhaled. 53

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And frowned. She smelled of sweat, musk, and...sex. Suddenly he wondered if he was not the first man to take her this morning. His erection waned at the thought. She didn't have Aubri's clean, delicate scent which reminded him of the fresh bounty of spring. Alex was surprised to discover Becky too amorous, too aggressive and wanton for his fickle tastes. She ran her hands up his chest and around his neck, pulling him closer. And Alex groaned in frustration as he realized he would not be seeking any relief between her thighs—because she wasn't Aubriana. The realization piqued his anger. Now he had to extricate himself from this situation without inciting the girl's ire. "Becky, are ye there?" said a familiar feminine voice. Alex mentally smiled in relief as he released the maid and stepped back, but he played it cool. Becky was far more reluctant to let him go. He was glad it was Molly who'd stumbled upon them. "Oh, my lord, please forgive me," she said apologetically. Becky turned on the maid, clearly displeased to have their tryst disrupted. "What's so bloody important?" she demanded. Molly lifted her chin and put her hands on her hips. "Mrs. Pickles wants ye down in the kitchen." Becky glared at the other woman. "I just bet she does." "Well, if ye hadn't disappeared before finishing yer chores, she wouldn't have asked me to go find ye," Molly returned.

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Becky's stance was defiant and Alex knew if he hadn't been standing there, the maid would have had a few choice words for Molly. Becky turned to him, and the smile upon her lips was so seductive, so sickeningly sweet, he lost all residual interest in her. She was just another manipulative woman. He was now doubly glad he hadn't succumbed to his urges. "Perhaps we could finish this some other time, milord," she said softly. Molly snorted. Alex had to bite his tongue to keep from smiling. "Perhaps," he said coolly. Her smile faded as she turned and glared at Molly. Without another word she flounced down the hallway, leaving Alexande and the maid staring after her. When she was gone, he turned to Molly. "Thank you," he said simply. She smiled, her eyes sparkling with good humour. She understood his meaning. "Ye needn't mention it, milord." **** Alexande frowned as he stepped from the gloomy King's Arms Inn. He lurched forward as Sheriff Hodgeson's protruding belly slammed into his back. He glowered at the portly man before sidestepping him, too lost in his thoughts to acknowledge Orwald's fumbling apology. Someone had gotten here before him. Alex had come to the tavern to search the simple room, hoping to garner clues for his mission. Instead he found a 55

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skeleton key protruding from the unlocked door. The place had been carefully, but thoroughly searched. The innkeeper claimed he had the only key—proving the man was either mistaken or lying, and Alexande wasn't sure which to believe at the moment. However, it had not been a complete waste of time. In his search of the writing desk, he'd found a treasure trove of documents—correspondence, lists of locals, names and dates of ships arriving in Weymouth Bay. Upon further examination he had discovered a hidden compartment at the back of the desk—empty. Alex was not pleased. Had someone been tipped off of his intent to search the room? Earlier that morning he'd gone to see the sheriff, and as a courtesy, Alex had informed him of his intention to search the premises. Hodgeson had tried to dissuade him from going to the King's Arms, but when Alex would not be deterred, the sheriff had insisted on joining him—Alexande had not cared one whit. But what had Orwald done between the morning and now? Alex trusted the man as far as he could throw him. The metallic clip-clop of iron shod hooves distracted him from his thoughts. An obscenely ornate carriage drawn by four magnificent matching greys, pulled to a halt behind his own modest coach. The highly polished black and white lacquered panels gleamed like glass in the afternoon light. A red and white livered footman hastily alighted from his perch to open the door. Immerging from the dark interior was an 56

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impeccably dressed, squat gentleman with a protruding belly. Despite his bearing, Alex knew the man was no lord, not with the glaring lack of a coat-of-arms on the unadorned coach door. New money—his grandfather would have sneered with disgust. A crop of wealthy merchants were popping up all over England. Men who dared to dirty their hands with trade. No self-respecting nobleman would dare dabble in business— though they did not mind marrying the rich daughters of these self-made men. Alexande's shipping company was barely tolerated, but then he was a prominent figure of the ton. The ruddy-faced gentleman turned and offered his white gloved hand to someone waiting inside. A moment later, a tall, slender young woman, with dainty white slippers descended from the carriage. Alexande turned toward his coach, wanting to be on his way... "My lord! What a pleasure it is to finally meet you!" A voice boomed behind him. Hiding his irritation, Alexande turned round and observed the portly gentleman striding toward him—his cane clicking rhythmically on the cobblestone walk. "Arthur Wyatt, Esquire," the gentleman announced as he stuck out his hand. Shaking his hand firmly, Alex replied, "Lord Alexande Telford, Marquis of Ravenspur, at your service." 57

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"Splendid, splendid!" Arthur Wyatt offered with a wide smile. "My daughter, Miss Annabel Wyatt." The esquire beamed with paternal pride as he introduced the lovely young lady. Alex stepped forward, and taking the girl's gloved hand, brushed his lips against her knuckles. "Miss Wyatt, enchante. Lord Ravenspur, at your service." A becoming blush touched Annabel Wyatt's cheeks as she shyly pulled her hand from his. "I must say Ravenspur, I was most glad to hear you've finally come and opened Bournemouth. How long has it been since your grandfather's death?" demanded Wyatt goodnaturedly, his thundering voice echoing up and down the street. "Fourteen years, I do believe," Alexande returned. "Though how you have come to know me is certainly a surprise." The squire waved his comment aside with a flick of his cane. "Weymouth is a small community. 'Tis no small news to hear the infamous Rogue Marquis has come to claim his inheritance." Alex arched a sardonic brow. Apparently his reputation had preceded him once again. "'Tis glad I am to see young blood in Bournemouth. Your grandfather was such a fuddy-duddy, I'd never met a more staunch fellow in my life," Wyatt rambled. Alexande's eyes narrowed at the offhanded insult to his grandfather. He knew full well the kind of man his grandfather had been. The kind who sneered down at enterprising men like Wyatt, a commoner who'd made his 58

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fortune by dirtying his hands, and was now looking to climb the social ladder as it were. "Oh, you must come to Ludworth Castle, my lord. Mrs. Wyatt would be absolutely thrilled to have you at her annual Merry May Masquerade. What say you? Shall I tell her to send an invitation?" Alex silently cursed his ill luck. The last thing he wanted was to be the night's entertainment at some petty masquerade ball, when he had a very important mission occupying his time, but he could hardly say no and besides he might be able to gain important information from this gathering. "Yes, I would be delighted to attend if nothing has come up by then." "Splendid, splendid! I will pass it on to the Mrs. I would love to stay and chat but I've appointments to attend to. Mayhap we shall meet again soon," boomed the squire. "Yes, of course. Mr. Wyatt, Miss Wyatt," Alexande bowed, and then turning, made a hasty exit as he climbed into his carriage. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Five **** "Old witch. Ordin' me to clean the damn thing..." came a low muttering from within the library. Curious, Aubriana halted beside the open portal, and peered inside. She set her burden of freshly laundered bed clothes beside the door, before stepping into the chamber. The library was massive, at least five times the size of the study and two stories high. Leather bound volumes filled every nook and cranny, and Aubri itched to read them— though it would be unseemly for a maid to read her master's books. One afternoon while she'd been "dusting", it had nearly taken an hour for her to locate the family bible. The sheriff had told her she would periodically find instructions hidden in the dusty tome, and to place her own correspondence detailing her findings within its ornate pages for her contact to retrieve. But just who that contact was, Aubri hadn't a clue. It wasn't as if the sheriff could walk into Ravenspur's house to deliver the messages himself. So that meant someone else was working for Hodgeson. Was it one of the footmen? Another maid? If so, then why had the sheriff asked her to spy on the marquis if he already had a spy installed in the house? She froze, her thoughts scattering when she espied Molly's petite frame perched on top a ladder. The maid was stretched on her tip toes as she reached for a huge vase resting on top 60

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a large bookcase. The vase looked to be almost as tall as Molly herself. "My gods, Molly, are you trying to kill yourself?!" Aubri cried. Molly jerked in surprise and hastily grabbed for the ladder. "Bloody hell, Aubri, ye nearly did that yerself by givin' me a fright." "Sorry." Molly smiled. "No harm done. Could ye hold the ladder while I get this bloody vase down? The old bat commanded me to clean it. I tell ye, it's a bloody pain in the arse." Aubri hastened to steady the ladder as Molly reached for the vase. "Do be careful," she said worriedly. "Ye needn't worry about me, just keep the ladder steady. So...how was his lordship's bath this mornin'?" Molly queried casually. But there was never anything casual about Molly's inquiries—in that she had much in common with Aubri's brother, Bram. "It was fine," Aubri tried to reply offhandedly, and knew she'd failed miserably when Molly snorted. "Fine? Ah dove, ye should know better than that. I know very well that bathin' as handsome a man as his lordship is far more than 'fine'." Aubriana's cheeks flamed. Molly was certainly right about that, bathing Lord Ravenspur was anything but "fine". In fact, she couldn't even begin to describe exactly what it was...perhaps exasperating would better suit. It was strange...she would have thought a man willing to betray his 61

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king and country would be vile and disagreeable, mayhap even ugly with a huge wart growing on his nose, but the marquis was anything but those things. At times, he was the charming rogue, his powers of seduction wielded with the skill of a master. He would touch her, talk to her in his deep, velvet voice. He even tried to kiss her—which Aubri couldn't allow. And then...there were his other moods when he became cold and unyielding. He never abused her, nor did he shout, but there was no mistaking the steel undertone when he gave an order. But what was most disturbing were his eyes—those grey predatory eyes gave her the queerest feeling he was seeing into her...past her clothes, her flesh and blood, into her heart and soul where she kept her darkest secrets. Sometimes, she feared he knew she was there to deceive him. Which was silly of course, how could he possibly know? All she knew it left her in turmoil each morning. And what was worse, Aubriana was shocked to discover she was not immune to his charms. Though she dreaded bathing him, deep inside she found it exhilarating. There was no denying she found him exceedingly attractive, inspiring wicked thoughts and wanton desires. Every time he drew near, her heart quickened, her pulse roared, her mouth dried, her nipples hardened, and a queer ache centered between her thighs. She would have feared it a malady, except it went away when she went about her other chores, and only returned when she thought of him or saw him again. Though she'd seen him naked for nearly two weeks now, it never failed to affect her. 62

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In truth, Aubri had become enamored with washing him. Though she dutifully bathed him, she secretly yearned to toss her washcloth aside and run her hands over his muscular back, his broad shoulders. To run her fingers through the dark matting of hair upon his chest, and feel the ridges of his stomach clench as she glided her fingertips across them. She'd never really thought about the acute differences between men and women before the marquis. Everything about him was fascinating—his muscular arms and legs, his long masculine fingers, the light dusting of hair on his skin. But what was more captivating than anything else, was his manhood. She'd never studied a man's sex before, but now that she had, it excited her in a way she did not completely understand. She yearned to touch it, to stroke it, to learn every bump and ridge. From the first morning when he'd forbade her from washing his sex and his buttocks, preferring to do it himself, it had only made Aubri want to do it more. It was never soft around her, it was always semi hard, but as she bathed him, it grew so rigid it looked painful. But the fact remained—the marquis was a traitor, and Aubri was to find the means to bring him to justice. "I thought you were sweet on George," Aubriana remarked. Molly spared her a glance and grinned. "Of course I am, but that doesn't mean I can't notice his lordship." "Has George told you anything more about Lord Ravenspur's mission?" Aubri asked. Two weeks and she hadn't learned anything new. Sheriff Hodgeson was becoming impatient. 63

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"No, and quit changin' the subject. Ye haven't told what it's like bathin' the master, and don't say fine." Aubri laughed. She should have known she couldn't avoid it. "Well...it's..." a thousand words flitted through her mind but none of them seemed adequate, "ah...interesting." "Interestin'!" Molly mocked. "Bloody hell, Aubri. Ye are bathin' the most handsome man I've ever clapped eyes on and ye say it's interestin'." Aubri's cheeks burned with embarrassment and she wished the floor would open up beneath her feet and swallow her whole. Suddenly, Molly yelped and the ladder jerked. Aubriana stared above her and gasped. Molly had slipped and now she clung to the ladder with one hand, the huge vase gripped in the other. "My gods, Molly, are you all right?" "It's too heavy," she cried. "What can I do?" "I don't know...it's slippin'." Aubri released the ladder and ran forward. "I'll catch it!" "No," Molly shouted, "ye'll get yerself killed." Suddenly the huge vase slid from her grip and dropped straight down. Aubri jumped out of the way just as it smashed to the floor with the deafening sound of breaking china. "Dear God no!" Molly exclaimed as she scrambled down the ladder, nearly losing her footing. Aubri had never seen her friend look so pale, her pixy face blanched white.

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Molly wrung her hands as she stared at the broken vase. "The old bat is going to have my hide for this," she whispered as tears welled in her eyes. Aubriana's heart wrenched at Molly's distress. She knelt and picked up a large piece. "Mayhap we can fix it," she offered. She glanced up as Molly shook her head. "No, she'd notice. I'm done for Aubri, done for. The old witch will dismiss me the moment she hears of this." "What is all this racket?" a voice demanded. Aubri straightened and spared her friend a glance. Molly stared at the door, her face completely drained of blood. Mrs. Fulthrop stalked into the room, her lips pursed with displeasure, her face seeming more pinched than normal. When she spotted the broken vase at Aubri's feet her gaze widened as she rushed over. "My God, what have you done!?" she cried. The housekeeper stooped and picked up a shard, her eyes watered as though she was about to weep. Then she straightened and turned the full force of her icy stare on Molly and Aubri. "Which one of you is responsible for this?" she snarled. "I will have an answer now or I will punish you both!" "I did it," Aubri replied before Molly could say a word. She just couldn't let her friend face the housekeeper's wrath. "I see," Mrs. Fulthrop murmured as her eyes narrowed, and her thin lips curled into a sneer. Aubri swallowed as dread coiled in her stomach. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Fulthrop, I didn't mean to break it." 65

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"I knew the moment I set eyes you would be more trouble than your worth!" She grabbed Aubri's arm, her nails digging hard into her flesh. Aubri yelped. The housekeeper jerked her forward as she turned and marched toward the door. "You are coming with me to see your just punishment." "You're hurting me," Aubriana cried as she yanked at the woman's grip. Mrs. Fulthrop turned on Aubri, and her eyes burned with such fury, it was terrifying. "You little bitch, I will show you to defy me!" She raised her arm and Aubri braced herself for the blow. "What is the meaning of this?" a male voice boomed. Everyone froze and Aubri managed to glance past the housekeeper to find an irate Lord Ravenspur striding into the library. His gaze darted to her, concern flashing in his wolf eyes before flaming with anger. "Mrs. Fulthrop, you will lower your arm this instant and you will explain what is happening, immediately!" The housekeeper slowly lowered her hand and straightened to her full height, her entire frame reverberating with indignation. "This...girl," she spat, "broke Lord Winton's beautiful Ming vase. It was one of his dearest and most prized possessions and I will have her punished dearly for her blunder." Lord Ravenspur eyed her coolly. "If that vase was my grandfather's, does that not mean it is now mine?" he asked casually. The housekeeper glared at him but said nothing. 66

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"Indeed," he said pointedly. "Then it is I who shall decide if anyone is to be punished. I have determined that no one shall be punished or dismissed for this incident. In fact, I found the vase to be exceedingly ugly and applaud Miss Welbery's brilliance in ridding me of the thing. Now, Mrs. Fulthrop, you will release Aubriana at once and return to your duties." The housekeeper's fingers dug viciously into Aubri's flesh before she finally released her. Though Mrs. Fulthrop bowed her head in a show of submission, she could not hide the gleam of hatred in her eyes. "Yes, my lord," she quietly replied as she sank into a curtsey. She turned, and with her head held high, stalked toward the door. The marquis's hand snaked out and grabbed her arm, halting her. "One more thing, Mrs. Fulthrop. If you ever raise your hand to any of the servants again, you will be directly dismissed." He released her, and without any outward sign that she'd heard him, the housekeeper marched from the room. Aubriana stared after the woman, shocked at how quickly the housekeeper had turned on her. It was a moment later before she realized she was trembling. Lord Ravenspur spoke softly, drawing her attention to him. "Molly, why don't you retrieve a broom and pan and clean up this mess." "Aye, milord," Molly replied before rushing from the library. He walked toward Aubri, halting only a foot away. He stared into her eyes, his gaze warm. Reaching out, he 67

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brushed her cheek with his fingertips. "Are you all right?" he asked gently. She stared at him but didn't know what to say. Fury and dread warred in her breast. It felt like she was stretched taut by the two conflicting emotions. "I suspect you made a friend for life in Molly when you took the blame for her." Aubri opened her mouth to protest but his words halted her. "I saw the frantic look in her eyes. I knew she was the one to break the vase, not you. But you needn't worry, I shall tell no one of your secret." "Thank you," she murmured before looking away. She found it hard to meet his gaze, harder still to reconcile this feeling of gratitude filtering through her turmoil. If he hadn't walked into the library when he did... He touched her cheek with the back of his hand. She glanced in his direction and stilled. His eyes held her captive. Normally they failed to show even a hint of his thoughts or emotions—a trick she found disturbing—but now emotion swirled in his smoky gaze, as if he too was afflicted with the same agitation churning through her veins. She was suddenly desperate for a kind of solace, like a survivor after a killer hurricane. The need was so terrible it shook her to the marrow. As though reading her mind, Lord Ravenspur's gaze grew dark as he slid his hand from her cheek to her neck and leaned forward. "Aubriana," he whispered before pressing his lips to hers. 68

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Aubri closed her eyes as his mouth slowly moved over hers. She was drowning in sensation—the kiss was wonderful...thrilling...and tender all at once. Her lips parted on a sigh as his arms slid around her and pulled her close. Heat radiated from his body, making her warm and secure. His kiss was slow and gentle, and she gloried in the press of his lips, the hardness of his chest, the strength of his arms. He swept his tongue inside, and she gasped as a tingling sensation raced through her veins. Passion ignited as he teased and licked, inciting her to repay him in kind. Aubri felt invigorated and free as she swept his tongue with hers. He groaned. She kissed him in turn and his whole body tightened around hers, pressing her breasts against his chest. Her breath quickened, her nipples hardened, and a fierce ache grew between her thighs. She was caught in a fury of desire and she rejoiced. Her hands crept up his chest and around his neck, desperate to pull him closer. She was suddenly frustrated by the articles of clothing between them. Aubriana was desperate to roam her hands over his naked flesh. To feel his heat and passion beneath her fingertips while he kissed her with abandon—their lips, their tongues, their breath fused in a delicious dance of desire. A soft gasp...and inhalation of shock floated to her ears... Aubri's eyes snapped open and her gaze darted past the marquis. Molly stood in the doorway, broom in hand, and watched them with surprise. 69

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Shame washed over Aubriana and she tore her lips from his. He stared down at her puzzled, but before he could say a word, she broke from his embrace. Mortified, she dashed from the library with tears blurring her vision. Alexande's chest heaved as he stared at the empty space before him, his hands clenched with frustration. His body throbbing with unfulfilled desire. He was in the grips of such fury, a vile curse spewed from his lips. Molly gasped. It was then he realized he wasn't alone. He turned his back on the maid, and tried to compose himself. Damnation, but he wanted to throttle the chit. In that moment, Alex wasn't sure if he meant Molly, Aubri, or both. He ground his teeth together. Never had he been in the grips of such lascivious passion only to have it ripped from his arms. Damn Aubriana! He hadn't meant to kiss her, but when he'd witnessed the tears in her eyes something inside of him had answered. She'd seemed so frightened, so fragile and alone, he'd been overwhelmed by the need to comfort her. But one touch of her lips, one taste of her honey sweet mouth and he'd been lost...lost in the fire of her embrace, in the wild, untutored passion of her kisses.

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She'd been a living flame in his arms—more passionate than any of his former lovers. She'd held nothing back, and it had been so exhilarating he'd been instantly consumed. His pulse thundered, his heart pounded as he inhaled a deep gulping breath. Why, damn it, why had she flown from his arms as if her heels were on fire? The answer slammed into him with the full force of a gale wind. She's a virgin. Alexande closed his eyes and heaved a great sigh as everything became crystal clear. Bloody hell! He'd been so blinded by his desire for the chit, he hadn't even realized she was an innocent. **** Alexande angrily yanked at the knot binding the expensive lace cravat wrapped around his throat. "Bloody hell," he snarled. Frustration rose as the knot refused to give. "I don't damn well understand why I have to change for supper when I'm going to be the only one attending!" Wiggins stepped forward and calmly brushed Alex's hands aside to work on the knot. In a matter of moments, his nimble fingers had the knot undone and was carefully unwinding the lace from around Alexande's throat. "Because, my lord, when faced with duty, a gentleman should always do 71

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it well and proper, no matter if he is dining with company or alone." Alex glared at the loyal servant, but not so much as a twitch of emotion crossed the staunch butler's face. "You and your damned advice," he muttered, but with less heat. Wiggins nodded as he took the cravat and carefully laid it on the bed and waited for Alexande to remove his fine linen shirt. Alex tossed it to the butler and took a freshly laundered garment. It wasn't Wiggins's fault Alex was in the grips of fury. It was Aubriana's. Why the hell does she have to be a virgin? His body still thrummed with unrequited passion. He'd never wanted a woman more in his life and yet, for the first time ever, he could not act. "Damnation!" Alex snarled as he paced before the hearth like a caged animal. He ran an agitated hand through his loose hair, wondering when the hell he'd started to be ruled by his desires. "Might I hazard a guess that you are in this fine state because of a certain young and beautiful housemaid?" Wiggins queried in his usual polite tone as he removed a burgundy silk frock coat and matching breeches from the wardrobe. "How did you ever guess?" Alex returned sardonically as he donned a cream waistcoat heavily embroidered with fanciful flowers and fairies. If he wasn't careful, he'd soon be dressing like a damn fop. 72

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"I take it she is in fact an innocent then?" Wiggins asked casually. "How clever of you, Wiggins. Did you deduce that on your own?" Alex returned. When the butler responded with silence, Alexande sighed. "Yes, Aubriana is a virgin. And for the first time in my life I'm at a loss as to what to do," he confessed. Wiggins looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. "Well...it has come to my knowledge that young women like Miss Welbery are somewhat romantic and need to be wooed. I'm sure with your legendary skills, you could easily charm her into your bed." Alexande stared at his loyal servant in surprise. Their master servant relationship was more lax than most, from years of loyal service and the fact Wiggins had once saved his life. Though he wondered who Wiggins had been seducing to garner that little gem. "I'm impressed old boy. Mayhap I should come to you for all my problems with the fairer sex." For the first time since their conversation began, the butler looked decidedly flustered. "It's simply my advice, my lord. You can take it or leave it as you wish." "Indeed." [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Six **** It had been two days since the debacle in the library. After calming herself, Aubri had gone back to help Molly pick up the shards—neither of them saying a word. Nor had Molly questioned her later about the kiss, for which Aubri was grateful. Not that there was anything to talk about. It had been a simple kiss after all, nothing spectacular or overwhelming, or anything to occupy her mind day and night. Then why couldn't Aubriana forget about it? Why couldn't she ignore the sensations which had assailed her—the firm press of his lips, the erotic sweep of his tongue as he tasted her, the heat of his body, the gentleness of his touch. The passion induced fog, the rush of desire as it had washed over her aching breasts and welled between her thighs. It had been the most exhilarating moment of her life—before the storm of guilt and shame of consorting with the enemy had claimed her. At least during the day she was master of her own thoughts—most of the time—but not so at night. When she was a slave to Morpheus's whim, her dreams were an entirely different matter... Aubri shook herself. This was neither the time nor the place, and she had far more important matters to occupy her mind 74

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Instructions had been waiting for her in the bible this morning. Apparently, Lord Ravenspur was in possession of some very secret documents and the sheriff had ordered her to discover their whereabouts and give a detailed account of her findings in her next report. It was early afternoon, and after airing and cleaning the bed chambers, it was time to sweep and dust the study—it seemed the most logical place to begin her search. Aubri strode down the hall with her supplies, and was surprised to find the study door ajar. The door was always firmly shut, whether Lord Ravenspur was occupying it or not. She paused beside the portal and knocked. "My lord?" she called. When there was no answer, she pushed the door wide and stepped inside. It was empty, and other than the fire crackling in the hearth, there was no other sign Lord Ravenspur was using it. She shrugged, and set aside her pails of water, cleaning cloths and carpet mop. Despite the serious nature of her mission, Aubri was utterly fascinated by the study. Dark oak panelling covered the walls from ceiling to floor. Foot-high mahogany trim, ornately carved with scenes of hunters from a bygone age, traversed the room near the ceiling. An entire wall held shelf after shelf of leather-bound books—the gold leaf titles gleaming softly in the light. Shields, swords and other nasty looking weapons hung proudly upon the walls. And standing in one corner, was a 75

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complete suit of gleaming armour—from its pointed metal toes to its red plumed helm. She would have happily spent hours polishing its breastplate if it weren't for the many chores demanding her attention. But what dominated the chamber was a massive, dark walnut desk sitting perpendicular to the door. She guessed it was crafted in Medieval times. Running her fingertips across the highly polished surface, she slowly circled it. The desktop was so marred with fine scratches and dents, she fancied a thousand letters had been penned upon its scarred surface. It contained a single drawer with a lock. She paused before the leather chair and slid her hand into her apron pocket. Her fingers wrapped around a small brass key. She'd been more than a little surprised to find it with the sheriff's missive. Aubri didn't know why, but she felt apprehensive about possessing the key. She wanted to demand the sheriff tell her just who was also working for him, but she doubted he would. Perhaps it was Becky—Molly had warned Becky was a rat for Mrs. Fulthrop, mayhap she was also spying for Sheriff Hodgeson—it wouldn't surprise Aubri in the least. Aubriana cast a surreptitious glance at the door—it was closed, she was safe. Fitting the key into the drawer's lock, she turned it and heard an audible click. Her breath quickened as she reached out to slowly open the drawer. There was a stack of papers inside. Her stomach jolted as she carefully pulled them out and laid them upon the desktop. 76

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Could these be what she was looking for? Could it be this simple? It seemed like such an obvious place to hide secret papers, it was almost disappointing, and not in the least adventurous. She sank down on the edge of the chair and began carefully leafing through the documents. Her disappointment sharpened when she realized these were not the marquis's secret papers, but correspondence from family, friends and acquaintances...and lovers if the gushing letters by an Elizabeth were any indication. Aubriana returned the stack to the drawer, careful to keep the letters in order. She closed it and twisted the key in the lock before replacing it in her pocket. She rose and glanced about her. Where in the world would he hide his papers? Her gaze fell upon the countless leather bound volumes lining the bookshelves. What about a book? The sheriff's contact placed his instructions in the bible, why not the marquis? She crossed over to a shelf and began examining the titles...but nothing jumped out at her. She sighed. There was no getting around it. She would have to examine each book. "So this is where you've been hiding yourself." Aubriana gasped as she sprang up from the floor, nearly toppling the stack of books beside her. Her heart leapt into her throat when she found herself caught in the marquis's wolf gaze. Dear gods, he's found her out! 77

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Was the guilt written all over her face? Did he know she'd been searching for his secret papers? If she was found out now, she'd be done for. "M-my lord," she stammered. Her cheeks burned and her stomach gave a sudden lurch—for a moment she feared she was about spew her dinner all over his fine blue velvet jacket. "I-I didn't hear you c-come in." A smile tugged on the corner of his lips. "Indeed." His gaze flickered over the books littering the carpet. "I didn't realize you enjoy reading. You seem well educated for a..." At the last moment, he seemed to catch himself and his words drifted off to silence. Aubri lifted her chin as his words penetrated the panic seizing her brain. Fury burned away her dread. She was used to the insults from the villagers, but she wasn't about to take it from him. "You mean for a peasant?" she spit the word at him, unable to disguise the bitterness in her voice. "For a farmer's daughter," he amended gently. Aubriana looked away. The village girls took great pleasure in tormenting her about her hand-me-down gowns and the poor state of the rickety cart Bram used to drive her into Weymouth. It made going to village socials rather...unpleasant. Her gaze focussed on the book in her hands and her cheeks flamed—The Invisible Spy. As her gaze darted down the page, she was caught by a most peculiar passage: 'The Belt of Invisibility, Which, fasten'd round the body, next the 78

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skin, no sooner becomes warm than it renders the party invisible to all human eyes.' What she wouldn't give for just such a belt at this moment. Aubri flinched as a finger trailed down her cheek and slid under her chin. The marquis forced her to meet his gaze. What game was he playing? "It was not my intention to upset you, Aubriana. It's just that I find you most fascinating...you're not like any woman I've ever met before." A bubble of hysterical laughter escaped her—he didn't know the half of it. Quickly she clapped a hand over her mouth to contain her hysteria. She doubted very much he met many women who took on a position in a household so they could spy on their master. Then again, perhaps it was more common than she thought. Mayhap she should ask Molly on the matter. Lord Ravenspur tilted his head to one side as he considered her thoughtfully. "In fact, I would very much like to become...intimately acquainted if you would permit me." Slowly, he reached up and removed her hand from her mouth. Aubri gasped as he ran his finger gently over her lower lip. Her breath quickened, her pulse thundered in her ears as he slowly leaned forward—his gaze heavy with desire as he stared at her mouth. She jerked backwards, desperate to escape his kiss. She yelped as she tripped over the stack of books, her slippered foot kicking out from beneath her. Her descent halted as Lord Ravenspur caught her arm and yanked her upright. He released her the instant Aubri was steady on her feet. 79

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"Why is it, Miss Welbery, every time I come near you, you act as skittish as a colt and try to escape me?" His voice was as sinful as black velvet, but there was no denying the steely undertone. She glanced up. He'd taken a step back, leaving a healthy space between them. Gone was the passion in his eyes, the warm regard. He stared at her with cold fury burning in his gaze, his jaw rigid, his body stiff. Aubri bit her bottom lip. What could she possible say that would appease him? Forgive me, my lord, but I've always make it a rule not to consort with gentlemen whom I've been hired to spy upon and who are reportedly dangerous villains intent upon betraying their king and country. Aubriana resorted to silence. His eyes narrowed as he regarded the stacks of books on the floor and the half-empty bookshelf. "What exactly are you doing in here?" Aubri swallowed, her heart beating a frantic tattoo. "I...ummm...I...was dusting the bookshelf," she replied lamely. For a moment, his gaze darted to the very top bookshelf before boring into her eyes. Aubri had a queasy feeling he didn't believe her. "I see. Well, I expect you to clear up this mess immediately. I have much work to do and I will not require your presence." Aubri felt the barb as surely as though he'd thrown the dagger with his hand. She bobbed a curtsey while clutching 80

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The Invisible Spy to her chest. "Yes, my lord," she murmured, as she cast her gaze downward. She held her breath as she heard him turn on his heel and walk across the study. There was a moment of silence before he spoke. "Oh, and Aubriana, if you are so determined to search my study..." Aubri's head jerked up in surprise. "...for a book to read, at least have the decency to do it on your own time." **** Aubriana hissed as a bead of hot wax slid down the candle stick and burned her hand. Quickly she picked it off with her nails before glancing around her. The great house was shrouded in darkness, nary a sound was to be heard—not even the soft scuttle of scurrying mice. It would not do for anyone to catch her sneaking about the mansion in her white night rail, like a haunting ghost. She glanced up the corridor but could see nothing past the soft golden halo of light. Cautiously she moved forward, creeping through the pitch until she reached her destination—the study. Nearly a week had passed since the marquis had caught her searching through his books. His presence had terrified her so, she'd stopped searching for the letters altogether. But Sheriff Hodgeson was becoming impatient, reminding her of her duty as a good and noble citizen. She had to find those papers. So Aubri had decided to take Lord Ravenspur's advice and search for them on her own time. Hence her stealing through the house in the dead of night. 81

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Cautiously, she opened the study door—grateful the footmen kept the hinges well greased—and quickly slipped inside. It seemed the marquis had been serious when he'd told her he did not require her presence. That evening before all the assembled servants in the dining hall, Mrs. Fulthrop had informed Aubri with a vindictive smile that his lordship no longer required her services in the morning and that Molly and Becky would prepare his baths. Aubri would continue to take care of his chambers after he left to break his fast, of course. Aubriana should have been relieved, yet when Becky had preened in her moment of triumph, Aubri's stomach had twisted into knots. The scullery maid had even declared the marquis would be hers shortly, for how could he possibly resist her ample charms. Aubri didn't say a word, yet strangely her appetite had disappeared. But what did she care if he slept with Becky or even Molly for that matter? Especially when he'd bedded half the women in London—if the rumors were true. It certainly meant nothing to her, at least that's what Aubri doggedly told herself. Besides, she had far more important things on her mind—like finding those damn papers. Aubri closed the door gently behind her, before padding around the room and lighting the candles—chasing away the shadows. She set her candle stick on the desk and glanced about the study. She shivered and chafed her arms, wishing she'd bothered to put on a robe. But it had taken every ounce 82

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of courage to get out of her warm bed and search, she hadn't spared a thought to her comfort. Where would his lordship hide secret documents? After much thought, Aubri realized searching the books was a waste of time. Something about the marquis's last comment seemed to confirm her suspicions. Hiding secret documents in a book seemed sloppy, and Lord Ravenspur was anything but sloppy. She only prayed he had no reason to look in the family bible—but then he seemed too much of a sinner to care. Aubriana crossed to the bookshelves and stared up. That furtive glance at the top shelf before he questioned her doings had taunted her. Why had he looked up there? It was filled with books of no particular significance as far as she could tell. And as tall as he was, he'd barely reach the shelf himself. But maybe that was the point. Only someone as tall as his lordship could possibly search it. Aubri glanced around the room for a stool, a ladder, anything that would boost her height. But there was nothing to be found. She gazed at the leather chair. It seemed her only course of action. Using all her strength to budge the chair, she slowly worked it across the rug. By the time she had it set before the books, she was perspiring—at least she wasn't cold anymore. She climbed onto the padded seat and discovered she still wasn't tall enough. Stretching on tip toes, she was just able to touch the leather volumes crowding the shelf. She 83

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pulled down a book and opened it—of course she didn't find what she was looking for. Aubri was about to replace the book, when she paused. The shelf was tightly packed except for a small spot in the middle. From below, the space between the books was barely discernable, but up close, she could see it clearly. Carefully, she removed six of the heavy volumes and cradled them against her chest. She ran her hand over the smooth wooden surface, searching. Leaning against the bookshelves, she was stretched to the very limit when her fingers brushed against something. Her breath hitched, her heart quickened as something smooth slipped between her fingers. She grabbed at it and began to pull. A soft cry of triumph spilled from her lips as she pulled a packet of letters into the soft candlelight. She scrambled off the leather chair, and nearly tumbled head first onto the rug in her haste. Giddy with excitement, Aubriana dumped the heavy books into the chair before running to the desk. She laid her precious find onto the scarred desktop and slid her candle closer. From the outside there was nothing significant about them, except for the fact they were tied together with a blue ribbon. With butterflies fluttering in her stomach, Aubri tugged an end and the bow slid free. She reached for the first document, the parchment crisp, and angled it toward the candlelight. Aubri paused, her gaze riveted to the embossed coat-of-arms at the top of the letter. My gods, is that the King's insignia?

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Aubriana stared agog at the gold leaf heraldic badge, suddenly recalling King George II's own insignia was painted above the door of the King's Arms Inn in Weymouth. The Marquis of Ravenspur receives letters from the King of England? But there at the bottom of the missive she espied the King's bold signature. She frowned as she carefully read the flowing script. When a phrase leapt off the page... 'We command you to put an end to the smuggling in Weymouth and to discover...' She devoured the elegant scrawl, her breath quickening with each word, her stomach churning with cold fear. A terrible sensation blossomed in her breast as she read the last sentence. Aubri dropped the missive and picked up the one beneath, reading every word until she was numb with dread. The paper slipped from her nerveless fingers as she stared in complete astonishment. Lord Ravenspur had been sent by order of the King of England, and by request of Duke of Newcastle, Prime Minister, to investigate the rampant smuggling in Weymouth. And to discover the person or persons responsible for the brutal murder of Revenue Officer, Sir Geoffrey Dunn, nephew to Newcastle. But it made no sense. The sheriff had told her the Prime Minister himself suspected the marquis was responsible for the smuggling in Weymouth...then why would he appoint the very man he suspected? Had Sheriff Hodgeson lied to her? 85

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Was he using her for some sinister reason? Anger and fear warred inside her. How dare he take advantage of her! Surely as the Sheriff of Weymouth, he would know all about Lord Ravenspur's mission. Was Hodgeson playing some kind of game? But who could she trust? Aubri suspected she already knew the answer to that question—no one. Aubri focused on the remaining documents and carefully examined each sheaf in the stack. Even more startling was the multiple missives between the king, Newcastle and Lord Ravenspur. The marquis even possessed letters and reports the late Sir Dunn had sent his uncle, detailing his findings of the local free-trade. Her heart nearly stopped when she found a long list of locals suspected to be smugglers, and there, half way down the list, a name—Bram Welbery. Aubriana pressed a shaking hand to her mouth, her knees turned to water and she nearly fell to the floor. Dear gods, we are doomed! She squeezed her eyes shut, unable to look at the documents a moment longer, despair welling within. Her entire family—her mother, father, brothers and sisters, were all doomed—every last one of them. Gods, how could Bram have committed such a vile act? How could he have done this to his family?! Her eyes snapped open, and she began pacing before the huge desk—desperate to quell the horror quickly consuming her. How many times did I order, beg and plead Bram to end his damn 'midnight excursions'? 86

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Though smuggling was considered a way of life for the people of Weymouth—rich or poor—she had tried to convince Bram no good would come of it. But she understood his reasoning. Everyone dabbled in "free-trade" in the area. It was common for the menfolk to get involved, to bring in a little extra blunt for their struggling families. And her family was the poorest of them all. She knew Bram could not stand to see their mother work her fingers to the bone, or their father desperate to eke out a living on their little plot of leased land year after year. She and her siblings did as much of the chores as possible to ease their parents burden, but it was never enough. Though Bram worked on a local fishing vessel, he did not bring in nearly enough blunt. And so her hot-headed brother had secretly gotten involved with the local smuggling ring, earning extra money the only way he knew how. She had discovered his clandestine activities quite by accident many months ago, but he had sworn her to secrecy. She had done so, only because he was doing his best to help out the family. But each night he snuck out of the house, she was worried sick, especially when a new, young and enthusiastic revenue officer had been stationed in Weymouth. She was terrified Bram would come home one night with a bullet in his back, or not come home at all. And then, about a month ago, her fears came true... Aubriana sat in the darkened kitchen beside the single candle flame and waited as she had every night Bram chose to leave on his midnight excursions. 87

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Suddenly the back door creaked open and in loomed a dark, menacing shadow. She leapt from the chair and gasped, her pulse frantic...until she realized it was her brother. "Bram, what are you doing coming home so late!? You scared me witless with worry," she scolded as she rushed to his side. Bram jumped at her words. "Bloody hell!" he swore. Quickly he closed the back door before facing her, his visage flushed with guilt. "I'm sorry, Aubri, but you know there is no helping it. I have a job to do." Without another word he brushed past her, refusing to meet her gaze. Aubri followed him, anxious for answers. She gasped as he passed before the candle, the flickering light illuminating a dark stain smeared down the front of his coat. "My God, Bram, what is that?" she cried softly as she grabbed his sleeve. "It's nothing," he mumbled. She angled him toward the candle, but it didn't cast enough light. "Don't you dare move," she commanded before letting go. She lit an oil lantern and turned to examine her bother. "Oh my God!" she gasped horrified. Aubri slapped a hand over her mouth to contain the cry rising in her throat. Blood was soaked into the front of his jacket, and torn sleeve. Setting down the lantern, she frantically ran her hands over his chest and arms, searching for the source of the injury. 88

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"Are you hurt? Were you shot?" she cried nearly hysterical with fear. "No, no I'm not," he growled as he roughly shoved her hands away. Hurt, Aubri stared up at him. "What happened? Is that blood?" She looked down at her hands and gasped—they were smeared dark red. Bram grabbed her shoulders and gave her a hard shake. "Listen to me, Aubri," he commanded, his voice rough with emotion, his eyes wild with fear. "Don't tell anyone I was gone tonight. Not a soul is to know I left the house. Do you hear me?" Aubriana stared at her brother with wide eyes, unable to fully comprehend what he was asking. He gave her another hard shake. "Aubri? Do you understand?" He seemed most desperate for her compliance. "Y-yes," she whispered. "If mum and da ask when I came home, you tell them ten. Do you understand?" Bram looked frantic and out of control. She'd never seen her brother like this. He shook her again until she feared he meant to rattle her teeth from her mouth. "Bram, please stop," she cried. "You're hurting me." Instantly her brother stilled, his eyes wide with a kind of madness as he stared down at her. The next moment he released her. She opened her mouth when he gently pressed a finger to her lips. "Please Aubri, don't ask me any questions for I 89

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cannot answer them. Just promise me you'll tell no one where I was, or when I came home this night." Aubri felt tears well in her eyes before slipping down her cheeks. She nodded. "Thank you," he whispered, and placed a gentle kiss to her brow. Without another word, he blew out the lantern and snuffed the candle, plunging her and the kitchen into darkness. What have you done, Bram? What have you done? Three days later, the local newspaper reported the young revenue officer's body had been found out on the cliffs. The details had been too gruesome to print, but one thing had been clear—the poor fellow had been murdered. Her brother had killed Sir Geoffrey Dunn. Since that terrible night, Aubriana had been keeping Bram's secret, terrified he would be caught and hanged. But as the days passed, and no one came knocking at their door, her dread had begun to ease. Mayhap she had been wrong? Mayhap her brother had not been responsible for the officer's death. Now she didn't know what to believe. The sheriff claimed Ravenspur was responsible, but the murder had occurred more than a month before he'd arrived at Bournemouth Hall. It could not have been the marquis. Besides, that night she saw the stark fear in Bram's eyes, witnessed the blood staining his jacket—far too much to be from a simple wound. And now her brother was doomed. 90

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With the marquis investigating the young officer's death, it would only be a matter of time before he discovered her brother's guilt. Bram would then be arrested and thrown into the local jail, or worse, taken to some foul goal like Newgate Prison—to rot until he was tried and sentenced to hang. Aubri's vision blurred as tears sprang to her eyes. She suddenly recalled every horrible story she'd heard about the prison. It was considered by many to be hell on earth. A place brimming with filth and disease, and only prisoners with money got any kind of fair treatment. Bram would get none for her family couldn't afford it. And her family...what would become of them? Something wasn't right. Either the sheriff had lied to her, or the marquis's mission was a ruse. Aubriana would report back to Sheriff Hodgeson, she would continue with her mission, and she would find a way to protect her brother. But one way or another, she was determined to learn the truth. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Seven **** She was dirty, sweaty, and exhausted. Aubri yearned for a cool wind as she wiped her brow on her sleeve. It wasn't a hot day, not by any means, but she and Molly had spent the last three hours beating clean the carpets of the west wing. The dragon, as Aubriana had come to think of the housekeeper, had issued the order that morning. She was beginning to wonder if Mrs. Fulthrop had a vindictive streak or if it was normal for household servants to labor exhaustively over their chores. If it weren't for the pay, her mission, her brother's safety, and Molly, Aubri feared she would have quit by now. A soft whinny and the muffled clip-clop of iron-shod hooves striking the packed earth, sounded behind her. She turned, and watched as a stable boy led a magnificent ebony stallion into the afternoon sunlight. The boy murmured something to the horse, before stepping back into the stables. A keen yearning welled within her chest as she gravitated toward the mount. It felt like an age had passed since she last rode. Her father often let her ride their old swayback, George, when he was not plowing the fields. There was nothing compared to riding—the wind rushing through her hair, the exhilaration of racing across the downs, the power of the horse between her legs. Sometimes she wanted to ride on forever and never return. 92

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"Aren't you a pretty boy," Aubri crooned to the big stallion. He snorted and shook his head as she slowly reached up to touch his muzzle. The horse stilled as she stroked his nose. "He likes you." Aubri's pulsed jumped at the softly spoken words. She hadn't seen him in days, but she would know that voice anywhere. She glanced over her shoulder. Lord Ravenspur was attired for riding—black leather boots hugged his calves, tan breeches clung to his muscular legs, his hunter green frock coat was split wide in the front for ease, and his tricorn sat at a jaunty angle. But it was the warmth in his gaze, the tiny lines crinkling at the corner of his eyes, and his breath-stealing smile which had her heart beating at a gallop. "I'm sure he likes everyone, he's a gentle giant," she replied. "Indeed. Until I give him the lead, then he's more than spirited." The marquis was standing closer now. She could sense his presence behind her, feel the heat emanating off his body. She inhaled a deep breath and caught a whiff of something other than horse...something decidedly earthy, masculine— him. Her breath quickened and the blood seemed to flow faster through her veins. "He's a warmblood, lots of Arabian in him," Aubri remarked as she ran her hand along its flanks. "He's rather tall though, don't you think?" 93

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"Seventeen hands high. My sister, Elizabeth, rides Blitzen's brother. I plan on studding them next spring." That was tall for a horse, but then she couldn't image Ravenspur satisfied with anything less in a mount. She paused as his words suddenly struck her...Elizabeth. So those letters weren't from a lover. Her sense of relief was more than a little disconcerting. "He has a good conformation. If his brother is anything like your Blitzen, you'll have half of England clamoring for your horses." "You seem to know a lot about horses." Aubri glanced in his direction. "I am well educated for a farmer's daughter after all." His smile turned sheepish at her flippant response. "I would like to offer a truce, Aubriana. Would you take a ride with me?" Aubri instantly took a step back and clasped her hands before her. "No, I can't," she said with a shake of her head. She stole a glance at the door leading to the servants' quarters and kitchen. Where is Molly? The marquis followed her gaze. "I'm sure Molly won't mind. And Mrs. Fulthrop won't have a word to say about it if I'm with you." In one easy motion, he mounted the stallion and offered her his hand. "Come, I know you want to." His voice was alluring as sin, and he was far more handsome than any man had a right to be. Aubri bit her bottom lip. She'd felt so confined since she began working here, she was desperate to know the freedom 94

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of a horse between her legs. But to ride with the marquis would be like riding with the devil himself. Lord Ravenspur nudged the horse toward her, before leaning over and offering his hand once more. "Come Aubri, just ride for a few moments. I'll have you back before the old dragon even knows you're gone," he said with a devil-maycare smile. Against her better judgment, she reached up and took his hand. **** Alexande steeled himself against the rush of desire as Aubriana's arms tightened around his waist. He urged Blitzen faster, needing to exercise the fire burning through his veins. They raced up a hill, and upon reaching the crest, Alex pulled the ebony to a gentle stop. He felt her hold loosen and release when he dismounted. He turned back and offered the reins. "Would you like to ride him?" Her amethyst eyes glowed at his offer, even as she bit her plump lower lip. How Alex wanted to bite it for her, to suckle her lips before thrusting his tongue deep into her sweet little mouth. "You're...you're sure it's okay?" she asked softly. He could see the battle of fear, worry and a desperate longing in her beautiful eyes. "I wouldn't offer if I didn't think you could handle him." To his surprise, she lifted her skirts and swung her right leg over so she now straddled the horse. Slipping her dainty feet into the stirrups, she took the reins from his hands and 95

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urged Blitzen into canter down the hill. She must have lost her ugly cap somewhere along the way for her golden hair streamed behind her like a silken banner flapping in the wind. Her skirts were bunched up around her thighs, revealing long, supple legs. It was the most titillating sight Alex had seen in a very long time. She raced across the meadow, trampling the delicate spring flowers. Suddenly she leaned low, and urged the stallion faster and faster as they approached a stone fence. His heart quickened as he silently urged her on. With the elegance of a champion Thoroughbred, Blitzen leapt into the air and jumped the fence, landing gracefully on the other side. Aubriana laughed gaily as she urged the ebony into a full gallop, never slowing. Alexande had tried for days to forget her. He'd been furious—with her and himself—when she had rejected him in his study. Apparently Wiggins didn't know that much about women...or maybe Alex had gone about it incorrectly. After that failed attempt, he'd thought to deny himself of her presence—hoping out of sight would also include out of mind. But he'd been wrong. Her absence from his mornings was more torture than her presence. He'd been astonished to learn that no one could take her place, not Molly, not even the lusty Becky who was more than willing to try. He'd forcefully pushed her from his thoughts, yet, her image would appear in his mind's eye at the oddest moments like when he was trying to concentrate on his investigation. 96

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And then there were his dreams. Feverish, erotic dreams that made his blood run hot, his cock throb and left him very unsatisfied. Aubriana's laughter echoed across the downs—joyful and intoxicating—as she turned Blitzen into the wind, and rode with the unbridled abandon of one who did not have a care in the world. Suddenly, Alex understood his near obsession with her. Beneath her timid, reserved exterior, was a spirited young woman brimming with passion. He'd sensed it that day in the town hall when she'd forced her brother to apologize, and again in the study when she'd taken offence to his remarks on her education. Like him, she exalted in the wind running through her hair, delighted in the powerful mount riding between her legs. Liquid fire ripped through Alexande's loins as he imagined Aubriana riding him with such abandon. Too long his jaded senses had been dulled by the practised wiles of courtesans. When was the last time he'd been aroused merely by the sound of a woman's sweet laughter, and the luscious sight of her slender legs? His cock pulsed, hardened. He wanted her, virgin or no. And one way or another, Alexande would have her. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Eight **** "Aubriana!" Aubri nearly jumped out of her skin from the sharp command. The night before last, she'd snuck into the marquis's study to read his secret papers and discovered he was getting closer to Sir Dunn's murderer—he'd stated as much in a report to the Prime Minister. He hadn't mentioned Bram, but Aubri knew it was only a matter of time. Gripping the carpet mop for support, she spun around and her heart sank like a rock to the pit of her stomach. Mrs. Fulthrop stood upon the threshold of the guest chamber Aubri had been sweeping. The woman's mouth was pursed with displeasure, but the malicious gleam in her eyes told a different story. Since her exhilarating ride with his lordship, the dragon had been punishing her. She hadn't said anything to her in so many words, but Aubri knew. She was scrubbing floors, lighting the kitchen fires and setting water to boil in the huge iron kettles—chores she was sure were part of Becky's duties. Then, just yesterday afternoon, the dragon had ordered her to completely clean the Red Rooms from top to bottom— the curtains, bed curtains, and bed clothes laundered, the floors scrubbed, the fireplace cleaned, the mattress beaten and restuffed. She'd been so utterly exhausted afterwards, 98

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she'd barely had the energy to dress for bed and slip between the sheets. Aubriana swallowed, fearful of what other torment the woman was about to heap upon her. "Yes ma'am?" "The master has requested your presence in the study, immediately!" Aubri's heart jolted at those words. "But whatever for?" she asked as dread squeezed her breast. A Cheshire smile curled the housekeeper's lips as she regarded Aubriana. "I'm sure I do not know," she said with false concern, "but nonetheless you are to attend him forthwith." "Yes, ma'am." Aubriana set the mop aside and made her way down the long hall to the study. Each step filled her with increasing doom, like a condemned man taking his final walk to the gallows. When she finally stood before the closed portal, Aubri nearly lost her nerve, until she realized the housekeeper had followed her. No doubt she was relishing Aubri's distress. Swallowing a lump of fear, Aubri knocked on the door. "Yes?" "'Tis Aubriana, my lord," she called. There was a pause. "You may come in." Aubri stepped into the room. "Please shut the door behind you," the marquis commanded. Aubriana knew a perverse pleasure in closing the door in Mrs. Fulthrop's face. At least the woman wouldn't be witness 99

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to her humiliation, unless she chose to eavesdrop at the keyhole. She took another step into the chamber and was surprised by the marked change of the crackling fire and Lord Ravenspur sitting behind the Medieval desk. The study seemed...warm and alive in his presence. Aubri braced herself for the worse when he finally regarded her. He studied her for a long, assessing moment, and she wondered if he found her lacking. But she could tell nothing of his thoughts, for his handsome visage remained reserved, his eyes hooded. "You may come closer," he murmured. Aubri's insides quivered at his deep velvet voice. "I have called you here, Aubriana, to speak to you of your...duties." Aubri stared at him as a terrible realization hit her, he was about to dismiss her. "My lord, if you find my services lacking, I swear I will work harder—" Lord Ravenspur held up his hand, halting her frantic words. "No, you misunderstand me. Your work is...exemplary. But there is another matter of vital importance which I would like to discuss..." His voice trailed off and he frowned. Aubriana was unsure if he was displeased with her or himself. Abruptly he rose and glided to the sideboard, startling her. Taking up a crystal decanter of pale ruby liquid, he paused and glanced at her over his shoulder. "Sherry?"

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Aubriana hadn't a clue what sherry was, but she was desperate for something to ease her parched throat. "Yes, thank you, my lord." Nervous, her gaze darted about the room...and fell to his desk where papers covered its polished surface. Her eyes widened as she caught sight of his secret papers. The blood drained from her face as her stomach twisted with dread. My gods, he knows! Why else would Lord Ravenspur order her to his study unless it was to confront her with her spying? Aubri jerked when he suddenly appeared beside her and handed her a dainty crystal glass. With nerveless fingers she took it and sipped the sherry. It did nothing to ease her predicament. A moment later he set his glass aside and she followed suit. Aubri glanced up at him and blanched when she found him scrutinizing her with his dark wolf gaze. Was he waiting for her to break? To tell him who had hired her and why? Or was he simply being polite, and waiting for the right moment to bring up the fact her brother was a wanted murderer? A wave of nausea rushed through her belly and up her throat, threatening to spew the contents of her stomach all over the marquis' pristine satin waistcoat. Aubri lifted her chin and hardened her resolve. It didn't matter what the marquis said or did, she had only been doing her duty as a loyal subject to the king, as the sheriff had ordered. Nor would she ever betray her brother. 101

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Murder or no, Bram was her blood, her family, and she would do everything within her power to keep him alive. "Aubriana," he began, his voice as smooth as velvet, his gaze locked with hers, "I would like you to become my mistress." [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Nine **** What? Aubriana was in a word—flabbergasted. She stared at the marquis, her mind reeling with shock, and barely kept her mouth from slipping open. He wanted her to become his... "Your m-mistress?" The marquis met her gaze squarely without a hint of discomfiture and replied, "Yes, I want you to become my mistress." He tensed as though bracing for her reaction. Aubri could do nothing but stare up at him, trapped by his piercing grey gaze, her momentary stupor having scattered all manner of thought to the four winds. After a moment of silence, Lord Ravenspur continued. "As my mistress, you will be entitled to five guineas a week, to do with as you please." Five guineas a week? It was more blunt than most families earned in a year! "You will, of course, no longer be required to perform the duties of an upper housemaid. Instead, you will be removed to the chambers next to mine, where you may conduct yourself as the mistress of Bournemouth." Dear gods, she'd prepared the Red Rooms herself...for herself? 103

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"You will be given gowns, jewels, and mayhap other gifts, all of which will be yours to keep. I will of course provide you with a lady's maid. And, if you so wish, I would be more than happy to provide a housemaid for your family, paid out of my own pocket of course." Gowns and jewels? A housemaid to help her family? "And once our arrangement comes to an end, I will pay you fifty guineas." Fifty guineas! It was fortune. His eyes turned smoky as he continued, his voice a husky rasp. "In return, you will pleasure me whenever, wherever, and however I see fit. And do not worry in thinking this will be one-sided, for I will take great enjoyment in pleasuring you in return." Her breath quickened and a jolt of desire skidded down her spine as she grappled with his outrageous proposal. Aubri stared at his devilish countenance, unable to form a single sentence in reply, for words seemed beyond her for the moment. She was stunned by this sudden turn of events. Lord Ravenspur was sin incarnate and as sensuous as black velvet. And dangerous. Very, very dangerous. She swallowed but it did nothing to ease her parched pallet. Absently, she grabbed her glass of sherry and downed the contents in one pull. His eyes gleamed with wicked amusement. Unable to bare his probing gaze, she turned her back on him and set her glass upon the desktop. Her world had been turned upside down, and suddenly she was set adrift, like a piece of flotsam on an endless sea. 104

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He wants me to become his mistress... It was so scandalous, she couldn't comprehend it. Aubri stiffened when she sensed him behind her. He was so close, heat radiated from his body to hers, yet nowhere did he touch her. "I understand how this might disturb your...sensibilities," he murmured softly, his warm breath a velvet caress against her skin. "But I would like you to think upon it. I will confess I have become...intrigued by you. I will even go so far as to say I am infatuated not only by your beauty, but by your spirit. There is passion inside you. I would like to be the one to free it, to explore the depths of it, if you will but permit me." She flushed, her heart pounding harshly as the blood rushed all the faster through her veins. The skin across her breasts tightened, as an ache tingled and grew at the apex of her thighs. Fear and desire warred within her breast. This...this was wicked and scandalous and dangerous and... "Will you think on it?" Aubri shivered. It was foolhardy to even consider becoming this man's mistress. And yet... She nodded. "Good. I will give you one day to think upon your answer." Aubri panicked. One day seemed too short a time to contemplate her ruination. The marquis stepped back, taking with him the intimacy of the moment. "I was wondering if you would permit me to sup with you this evening. Not for a seduction, not even to woo 105

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you or to show you what it would be like to become my mistress, but merely for the pleasure of your company. Would you do me the honor?" Slowly she turned around and met his gaze. Dare I sup with this rogue? She parted her lips and the words tumbled forth before she had time to think. "Yes, my lord." She blinked, surprised by her own response. The smile which curved his lips was so charming, so dazzling, it left her momentarily witless. "I am most honored," he replied, warmth glowing in his eyes. "Supper will be served at seven." He paused for a moment. "I thought perhaps you might like to spend the night in the Red Rooms while you ponder my proposal. You will also find a new gown in the wardrobe. Regardless of your decision, it is yours to keep. It would please me greatly if you were to wear it tonight. I will send a maid to help you dress." "Thank you," she muttered, barely pushing the words past her lips. It was all happening so fast she feared she'd been caught in a mighty whirlwind and was about to be swept away to lands unknown. The brightness in his eyes dimmed for a moment. "Of course, if you decline my offer, you will return to the servants' quarters and resume your duties." Aubri swallowed, and realized he wanted her to understand this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. If she refused, he would not ask her again. "Of course," she replied softly. "Good," he remarked, clearly pleased. "Unfortunately, there are certain matters which require my attention. I regret 106

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I cannot spend the afternoon with you. While I await your decision, you are relieved of your duties and may even explore the house and the gardens to your hearts content." He bowed as though she was some beautiful courtesan and taking her hand, pressed a butterfly kiss to her knuckles. He straightened, still holding her hand, and led her to the door. "Come, I will have someone escort you to the suite." His smile was full of amusement which puzzled Aubri until he opened the door and nearly bowled the housekeeper over. She must have been listening so intently at the keyhole, she failed to step back. "Ah, Mrs. Fulthrop, just the woman I was looking for. I assume you heard everything?" he asked with a cynical smile. The housekeeper sputtered with indignation, her pinched features flushed with embarrassment or anger—Aubri wasn't sure which—but she failed to utter a single word in her defense. "Good," the marquis continued. "I would like you to escort Miss Welbery to the Red Rooms. And I would also like Molly to attend her as her lady's maid." He turned to Aubriana, and kissing her hand one more time, released her to the housekeeper. "Until this evening..." **** "His mistress, ye say," Molly exclaimed. She was perched on the edge of the massive four poster bed. "I bet the old witch had an apoplexy when she heard that." Aubri would have laughed if she wasn't so anxious. She paced before the fire, wringing her hands in agitation. She 107

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suspected Mrs. Fulthrop had been in a state of shock, for as the woman had led Aubri to the lavish chambers, she'd not uttered a single word. "Aubri, will ye stop yer infernal pacin'?" Molly asked as she jumped down from the bed and took hold of Aubriana's hands, halting her. Aubri regarded her friend. "I can't believe he asked me to become his mistress. This is terrible!" Molly stared at her as if she'd gone mad. "Terrible? Look around ye, dove. Have ye ever witnessed such luxury? And all of it for ye. What's so terrible about that?" Aubri glanced around her. It was absolutely sumptuous. The walls were covered in a bright red brocade, the floral pattern shimmering from the light of the beeswax candles sitting in their gleaming brass sconces. The pleasant, musky scent of burning wood filled the air as a cheerful fire burned in the gleaming grate of a creamcolored marble hearth. A massive, ornate four poster bed, complete with matching red velvet curtains and satin counterpane dominated the bedroom. A bank of tall windows covered one wall and provided ample sunlight. A tall, oakframed mirror sat in one corner, and beside it was a large, four panel painted screen which hid a tin bathtub. It matched the marquis' chambers perfectly. But it was not for her. Not for a woman who'd been hired to spy upon his lordship, not for a woman whose brother was a smuggler and murderer. "I don't belong here," Aubri muttered in despair. 108

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Molly shook her head. "Listen to me, dove. Ye've never been so wrong. When ye first came here I was shocked ye were workin' with me. Not because I didn't think ye'd never done a hard day's work in yer life, but because yer different." Aubriana was surprised. "What do you mean?" "Look," Molly said as she dragged her to the mirror and Aubri could see her reflection. "Yer not like me or Becky. Yer different. Ye don't even talk like us. Yer beautiful and refined. Ye deserve to be in these chambers, to have servants wait on ye. Not to wait on others yerself." But Aubri shook her head. She refused to believe it. "You're wrong. I'm a lowly farmer's daughter and now a maid. I'm nothing more. And you're right, I'm not like Becky. She's pretty, and feminine and..." "She's a trollop!" Molly stated as she placed her hands upon her hips. "And she doesn't deserve to lick yer shoes. Any man can have her. Hell, I would jump at the chance if the master had chosen me. But he chose ye, because yer sweet and kind and beautiful." Aubri spun away to resume her pacing. "You're wrong! And...I...I can't do this!" "Why?" Molly demanded, clearly exasperated. Aubriana turned back to her friend, searching for a plausible reason she could tell her. "Because I...I discovered the real reason why Lord Ravenspur is here. I found out about his mission." Molly blinked at her. "So?"

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Aubri lowered her voice, fearful someone might overhear. "He was sent by the King of England to investigate the rampant smuggling and the death of that Revenue Officer." Molly stared at her a long moment before she understood. "Ahh...it's that brother of yers, isn't it? The one ye told me about, Bram. He's a smuggler, ain't he?" Aubri was stricken. "Yes." Molly instantly softened. "I'm sorry, Aubri, but ye shouldn't worry yerself about it. We're all in the same pickle. I have two cousins and three brothers who are smugglers. I bet ye every single person downstairs knows someone who's smugglin'. "But think about this—do ye think his lordship is goin' to arrest the brother of his mistress? Of course he wouldn't. Besides, if yer that worried, ye just need to warn Bram to take extra care," Molly reasoned. Aubri sighed wishing it was that simple. She thanked the gods Molly hadn't guessed the real reasons for her dread. She was spying on Ravenspur and her brother had murdered the Revenue Officer. And she knew it wouldn't matter who she was, it wouldn't stop the marquis from arresting Bram. Aubriana clenched her hands into fists and paced. Ravenspur deserved her censure, didn't he? It was his neglect which had caused her family's downfall. In a way, it was the marquis's fault Bram had turned to smuggling and had murdered a man. And he was a villain of the first water...or wasn't he? She didn't know what to believe anymore. Sheriff Hodgeson had told her the Prime Minister suspected Ravenspur was 110

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responsible for the local smuggling and the murder of Sir Dunn. But Aubri already knew her brother had murdered the revenue officer. And the marquis's secret papers had more than confirmed he was investigating the killing for the king...it didn't make any sense. Yet, whenever she questioned the sheriff, he simply told her she must continue with her duty as a good and loyal citizen of her king and country, to do whatever it took to bring Ravenspur to justice. But Aubri couldn't jog the feeling the sheriff was lying to her. Molly touched her arm, her kind face filled with concern. "Dove, I know there must be somethin' more than yer willin' to tell me." She held up her hand when Aubri started to protest. "I don't need to know what it is if ye aren't willin' to share it, but think of this. If ye are the master's mistress, ye'll always know what he's doin' and what's happenin' with his mission. Ye can protect yer brother that way. "And besides, this may be yer only chance to do somethin' like this. I've never told anyone this, but...I was seduced by Lord Edworth's son. He made me empty promises, and in my foolishness, I let him have his way. I always dreamed that I would meet someone noble who would help me rise above all this. Now is yer chance. Don't let it go because yer a little afraid," Molly pleaded, tears shimmering her hazel eyes. Aubri blinked back her own tears as she took up her friend's calloused and work worn hands. Molly was right. She had to do this, to protect Bram and her family, for her mission, for Molly, mayhap even for herself. She was terrified of the consequences, but if she 111

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didn't do this, Aubri feared she would regret it for the rest of her life. "I'll do it!" Aubri proclaimed. Molly grinned. "Good! Now remember, don't tell his lordship immediately. Men like the chase. Make him ask ye, as I'm sure he will before the evenin' is out." "You know," Aubriana said, returning her friend's smile, "this means you get to be my lady's maid." Molly's grin widened and her eyes danced with mischievous delight. "Oh, of course, dove. And isn't that just goin' to stick in the old bat's craw. Ye know this means I get to dine with her and Wiggins and all the other head servants each day." She released Aubri's hands and walked to the large wardrobe, throwing the doors open wide, "now, let's see if his lordship has as good a taste in gowns as he does mistresses." [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Ten **** She was a fraud. Aubriana was certain of this fact the moment she stepped into the elegant, private dining room with its gold and cream brocade walls, thick honey oak paneling, and huge Persian carpet. She was a pauper playing dress-up in expensive clothes. A spy who'd snuck into the great house and been mistaken for a high lady. It would only be a matter of time before the marquis realized this most grievous error. Her stomach churned with unease as she gazed about at the huge portraits dominating the walls. No doubt they were Lord Ravenspur's illustrious ancestors by their aristocratic miens. They glared down at her with their flat, accusatory eyes—how dare she pretend to be one of them! But of course, she wasn't. She was to become Lord Ravenspur's mistress and the prospect both exhilarated and terrified her. She wanted to blame this untoward situation on Molly and everyone else, but Aubri knew she'd made this decision herself. If anything went wrong, she had only herself to blame. Aubri jumped as the door opened and admitted the marquis. Her heart battered her ribs as he strode toward her. He moved with an elegance and grace which made her feel like a clumsy oaf. Taking up her hand, he bowed low and 113

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brushed it with an airy kiss. Straightening, he continued to hold her fingers in his large warm hand as he swept her with a slow, studying gaze. A smile curved his lips, and Aubri hoped he was pleased with her appearance. "Miss Welbery, you are stunning, simply stunning," he murmured, his voice deep and rich, his wolf eyes a smoky grey. Heat burned her cheeks. "Thank you, my lord." She could scarcely push the words past her lips. But it was he who was truly striking in his evening attire. His thick, ebony hair was brushed into a queue and held with a simple black riband. His skin was bronze against the stark white cravat tied in a perfect bow beneath his chin. The frothy ends were tucked into the V of his gold waistcoat, elaborately embroidered with delicate flowers, climbing ivy, and darting hummingbirds. His broad shoulders and chest were fitted in a dark blue velvet dress coat which tapered to his slim waist before flaring into a stiff skirt. Dark tan breeches clung to his long muscular legs like a second skin. White silk stockings were gartered below the knee, and black polished leather shoes with bright gold buckles completed the ensemble. "Would you care to sup now?" he queried politely as he gestured to the walnut table set for an intimate supper for two. Aubri swallowed, struggling with a wave of anxiety. She could barely meet his gaze, how would she ever bring herself to actually eat in his presence? 114

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"Yes, my lord," she replied shyly. His eyes gleamed wickedly as he escorted her to the table. **** Dinner was exquisite—from what little she ate. Of course, having dined on the Pickles' cuisine in the servants' hall, it wasn't a complete surprise to find every dish absolutely delicious. The marquis had plied her with claret and casual conversation as the meal progressed, but neither had relaxed her tightly wound nerves, nor the butterflies' frantic flight in her stomach. What she couldn't understand was his fascination with her. She felt like a bumbling goose under his close regard and so completely out of her element at the elegant table. She was amazed she hadn't made a bloody fool of herself...yet. "Would you care to join me for a stroll?" The silken whisper was a warm caress against her ear. Aubri shivered and glanced up, startled to realize he was now standing beside her. He smiled down at her and held out his hand. "There is something I wish to show you." The wicked glint in his eyes made her breath quicken. She gazed at his long, elegant fingers and self-consciously curled her own calloused hands. She had watched those fingers caress his crystal goblet as he'd sipped the ruby wine, their every movement slow and seductive as though he had been touching her instead. What would those hands feel like roaming all over me? 115

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Aubriana was shocked by her own scandalous musings. What did she care what his hands would feel like? With trembling fingers, she grabbed her glass and drained the last of the potent claret, grateful for the fortifying heat which filled her belly. "I promise I won't bite," he murmured, clearly amused. Aubri swallowed before hesitantly placing her hand in his. Wordlessly, she rose from her seat. Taking her hand, he tucked it in the crook of his arm before leading her through the French doors and out onto the terrace. The night was cool and crisp, and washed over her heated cheeks like a teasing caress. The wedge of the moon hung on a black velvet sky sprinkled generously with a vast array of twinkling stars. She gazed into the inner courtyard and was delighted by the bounty of its sprawling garden. She'd glimpsed it often during her daily duties. But the stark shadows and silver moonlight had turned it into a dream realm and she yearned to explore its mysteries. As though sharing her desires, Lord Ravenspur guided her down the stairs into the inner sanctum of Bournemouth Hall. **** Alexande had finally lost his bloody mind. He'd asked a virgin to become his mistress. If the ton ever caught wind of this, there would riots in the streets. No doubt the courtesans would fling themselves from the nearest window, and the gentlemen would be beating at his door to get a glimpse of her beauty. But it would be worth it. 116

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Aubri was absolutely stunning in the cream and burgundy silk gown, perfectly displaying her alabaster mounds to perfection. Had he met her at court, he could have easily taken her for a lady of means and breeding with her delicate beauty and graceful air. He congratulated himself in appointing Molly as her lady's maid, for the girl had certainly displayed her exceptional skills when she'd attired his new mistress. And Aubriana would be his mistress—he would see to it. And of course, Alex had lied when he'd told her tonight was not about seduction. It had everything to do with it. He wanted to show her what it would be like if she entered his world. She would be pampered, spoiled, and thoroughly pleasured. His cock hardened simply contemplating all the delicious things he wanted to teach his alluring innocent. It had been the most pleasant torture to sit across from her and drink in her beauty as they supped. He'd noticed her nervousness. Obviously she was unaccustomed to such finery or his studious attentions, but he would soon cure her of that. He'd barely tasted the delectable dishes for all he could think about was feasting upon her. He wanted to peel down her bodice and dine upon her luscious breasts. Alex inhaled a breath of cool air, determined to rein his desires before they ran rampant and destroyed his carefully laid plans. Aubri had to be dealt with the utmost care if he was to win her to his way of thinking. They traversed the gardens in companionable silence. He was surprised to note the sense of contentment stealing over him. He did not bed women to achieve any kind of peace. He 117

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liked beautiful, intelligent, and serene women. Women who understood his needs and answered his passion with equal fervor. He only gave gifts when it pleased him to do so—to encourage his lover's enthusiasm between the sheets. And he never let his guard down. For in his dark world, danger was ever his companion. Tranquility was a commodity he could ill afford, for it would be too easy to surrender to its seductive embrace. "Tell me, where do your mother and father come from?" he asked softly. Startled by his words, her gaze flew to his—questioning. "I only ask, because you, your mother and father speak so eloquently, it makes me think they were not always tenant farmers," he responded. He'd met her family when he'd gone to visit all his tenants and had been surprised by the Welberys' genteel manners, not to mention the sad state of their home. He now understood the reasons behind Aubriana's defensiveness. Her cheeks tinted in the moonlight. Shrugging her dainty shoulders she looked away, as though she found it difficult holding his gaze. "There isn't much to tell, but you are right, they weren't always tenants or farmers." Her lilting voice faded into silence. Alex waited patiently. When he heard her sigh of resignation, he smiled. "My mother is in fact the daughter of Sir William Boswell, a gentleman, who earned his knighthood during the '45 rebellion and his wealth with tin. He is, or so my mother tells me, a rather ambitious fellow, wanting all of his children to 118

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marry into the nobility. He arranged a marriage between her and an old but wealthy baron who was in dire need of an heir before he died. She tried to tell my grandfather she could not abide the baron, for she had fallen in love with another." "Your father," Alexande surmised. "Yes. He was my grandfather's valet. It was all quite by accident how they fell in love, but it could not be helped." "Love never comes by accident. When it happens it chooses the time, the place and the couple, they never it," Alex said quietly. "Is that from experience?" she queried, meeting his gaze. "No," he said dryly. "'Tis something my grandmother said to me long ago. I have just never forgotten it." What the hell had made him quote such poetic drivel? She boldly searched his gaze for a moment before turning toward the path. "Yes, well, grandfather wouldn't hear her refusals, unaware she was in love with his valet. After several weeks of pleading, my mother ran away with my father on the night before her wedding, the thought of marrying the baron so terrible." "Has she ever regretted her decision?" "Nay," she said with a quick shake of her head. "They love each other dearly despite all they have been through. Though I do think she regrets her father's anger toward her. In all the years she has written him, never once has he replied or even indicated he cares that we are alive. I think it pains her so." "Many gentlemen who are in truth of common stalk, who have crawled and scraped their way up the social ladder, are far more appalled by their children marrying below them, 119

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than many of their betters. But don't get me wrong, many nobility feel and have acted the same as Sir Boswell. 'Tis a course of nature to strive for the best, no matter who it might hurt in the end," Alexande responded, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice. She looked at him surprised. "What of yourself?" she questioned after a moment. "No, I am not shackled if that is what you are asking. Nor do I ever intend to marry." "Why ever not? Do you not have need of an heir?" "Yes, but I have a younger brother who will gladly take over when I die, or his sons will, as soon as the scoundrel marries," Alex groused lightly. "Then why?" Alexande didn't like anyone poking into his business, but when he glanced at her his breath stilled. Illuminated by the soft silver rays, she was as exquisite as a goddess. She looked up at him with such trust, such honesty in her eyes, he was compelled to answer her. "My parents were not as lucky as yours. Theirs was an arranged marriage. You can tell your mother she was perfectly justified in her need to escape, for I know firsthand how disastrous such an arrangement can be. There was no love between my mother and father, and they spent as much time away from each other as possible. My mother, though beautiful, didn't bear any love even for her children, content to pose the perfect image of propriety to society, while lavishing her attention on her many lovers. Never having any time for us. 'Tis why I have vowed never to marry. I couldn't 120

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stand being leg-shackled to a woman who was beautiful, perfect, but cold as ice—untouchable by passion." When he saw the pity in her gaze, Alex ground his teeth and glanced away. He didn't want her pity, her concern or her caring. He didn't know why he'd revealed something so very personal, but it would not happen again. **** Aubriana let the subject slip into oblivion. She'd heard the bitterness in his voice, and sensed his displeasure at having revealed something so intimate to her. She had the feeling he was not a man who shared of himself lightly. In fact, she'd been working for him for nearly three weeks and all she'd learned was through spying. Though the servants gossiped about him, it was only to ever talk about his exploits— duelling with cuckolded husbands, and seducing the beautiful ladies at court. Even his personal servants, like George, had little to say of their master, or were reluctant to talk. After all, she'd only learned of his investigation through snooping. Why should it be kept a secret? Everyone in Weymouth knew about the Revenue Officer's death, and nearly everyone was involved in the local free-trade one way or another. But then, perhaps that was the point. She'd seen the list of smugglers. Even Sheriff Hodgeson had been named—which had taken Aubri completely by surprise, and made her even more suspicious. There was one little truth Aubri could no longer deny—the marquis was darkly attractive and utterly charming when he wanted. But despite the marquis's charm, she sensed an 121

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underlying hardness. He was a man of secrets and he only showed the world what he wanted them to see. He even wielded his charm, his seductive skills, like a weapon. He was dangerous and sin incarnate, she must be wary always. Turning her mind from the disturbing thoughts, she inhaled the sweet bouquet of the night-blooming flowers. She paused and gasped in delight when she realized the garden had transformed into an open Roman palace. Huge bushes and hedges had been sculpted into a life-size portico and famous Greek and Roman statues. It was so lovely she couldn't wait to see it in the daylight. Suddenly, she was aware of the soft sound of running water. "Come," the marquis whispered as he tugged on her hand. They slipped beneath an arbour thick with ivy into an enchanting world of moonlight and sparkling water. At the very heart of the gardens was a huge marble pool, and at its centre was a life-size blue marble mermaid idly reclining on her island rock. Her flowing hair cloaked her nude shoulders and teased her bare breasts. She lounged on her side, her tail rolled playfully into the air. She was so lovely, lush and lifelike, Aubri half expected the mermaid to glance in their direction and wink. "What do you think?" "It's beautiful," she breathed. "But not nearly as beautiful as you," Lord Ravenspur murmured huskily. She glanced at him, and swallowed. 122

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He towered above her, so close she could feel his heat. His handsome face was etched in harsh shadows and soft moonlight. The malady she always suffered when he was near consumed her. "My lord...I..." "Alexande," he corrected softly. Gently, he reached up and cupped her face in his warm hands, his thumb tracing her cheek. "Call me by my name." "Alexande," she whispered, frozen in place. Slowly he leaned down and brushed his lips over hers, his mouth moving languidly. "Aubriana," he murmured against her mouth, "open for me." She didn't understand his gentle command, but gasped when he slid his tongue along the seam of her lips. He slipped inside and she surrendered to the moment. Her eyes fluttered shut as he deepened the kiss. Desire rushed through her veins as he crushed her against his body—his chest hard against her tender breasts, his thigh nestled between hers. It was thrilling and terrifying and Aubri wanted more. She slid her hands up his chest and around his neck. She needed him closer, to fill the aching void growing between her thighs. She'd been kissed before, but never with the marquis's skill and passion. Suddenly she understood why women like Becky gave themselves freely, why Molly would have jumped at the chance to become Ravenspur's mistress. In that moment, she didn't care that he was dangerous, that he could arrest Bram 123

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and cart him off to Newgate, that he was her enemy. All she cared about was the delicious fire running through her veins. It was he who finally ended their kiss. Dazed by desire, her eyes slowly opened and she saw her own yearning reflected in his gaze. "Aubriana, I know I should not ask you now, but I must know the answer. Will you be my mistress?" She knew there were a hundred reasons why she should not. But duty demanded this of her. The sheriff had told her to do whatever was necessary to complete her mission. So she would sacrifice herself for king and country, for her family...but never for herself. "Yes," she whispered, "yes, my lord, I will become your mistress." The marquis' eyes darkened and his arms tightened around her. He captured her lips in a slow, erotic kiss— heightening the desire pulsing through her veins. When it became imperative to breathe, he broke away. He searched her gaze with his smoky, heavy-lidded eyes. "You don't know how much I want you, Aubriana. But tomorrow night will be soon enough to initiate you into the world of sensual delight. I am going to show you pleasure and free your passion, and enjoy every moment of it." [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Eleven **** Willy Seamus and his men sauntered into the Black Dog's common room, raucous laughter spilling from their lips. "Yer a bloody riot, ye know that Willy," Marly hooted. "Aye," Moodie joined in, "the way ye laughed in the King's Man's face, I dare say the bleedin' asshead was goin' to have an apoplexy right there on the spot." Ridley gave him a slow, sly smile as he followed the others. He was tall and lanky, and preferred action over words. Of all his men, Willy valued him the most. Ridley could get things done and keep his yap shut besides. Which he couldn't say for Marly and Moodie, but the brothers definitely had their uses, and were completely trustworthy. And Willy was proud to claim he was the brains—and why they were the best smugglers in the area and had managed to keep out of the gaol. Willy claimed a barstool and slapped a tuppence upon the scarred bar top. "Give me two fingers of whiskey will ye Gus, and a round for me boys," he demanded of the burley barkeep. Gus filled four shot glasses and clapped them in front of Willy and his men before sliding the twopence into his apron pocket. Brandishing his crooked and yellow teeth, the bartender leaned forward on his sinewy arms. 125

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"So tell me, what is it we've been hearin' about ye and the bloody officer from Poole?" Willy gulped the whiskey and took a moment to savor it as it burned its way down his gullet and warmed his insides. "Bleeding bastard!" He spat on to the floor. "One of me tubs bobbed out of the water right in front of the King's Man searchin' the shore. The whoreson thought he'd get to it before me. But the wind came up, and by the time he was rowin' into the cove, I'd already taken me tub back. Don't mind tellin' ye I gave vent to me victory. Gave him a good view o' me arse I did." Uproarious laughter filled the tavern as the men toasted Willy. "Yer a bloody cocky one, ye know that Seamus." Gus laughed as he refilled Willy's glass. "This one be on the house." Willy puffed out his chest. With a nod of thanks, he slammed it down—nothing tasted as good as whiskey on a miserable night like tonight. "'Tis the very devil out there, I tell ye. The bitch has her dander up and the waves are smashin' against the rocks. I just hope no more tubs comes loose," Willy uttered. "Aye well, I dare say the revenue man will be keepin' an eye out come morn," Gus returned. "Nay, me and the boys took right good care of that bloke, didn't we lads?" Willy laughed. "He ain't goin' be botherin' us no more." Gus took a step back, eyes wide with shock. "Don't tell me ye threw him over..." 126

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Willy smashed his fist on the counter and glared at the barkeep. The tavern was deathly quiet. "Of course not! Are ye a bleedin' loggerhead?" he demanded. "I ain't done nothin' to no one. Ye just remember that Gus, and ye'll live that much longer. A bloke could be hanged for the tellin' of such lies." Sweat gleamed on Gus's bald pate in the lamplight and Willy could practically smell the stink of fear rolling off of him. Willy knew such erroneous accusations could bring down the magistrate on all their heads. Free-trade was a way of life in these parts and everyone dabbled in it, even fat, lazy Sheriff Hodgeson. It was common knowledge, smugglers embellished their smuggling prowess, himself included. But since the death of the young revenue officer, everyone had been on edge. Rumors flew, but no one knew who was truly responsible for the poor bloke's demise. "Aye, well...I didn't mean nothin' by it, ye know that be true, Willy," Gus hastily apologized before pouring another dram of whiskey. Willy stared at him long and hard before finally taking up the peace offering and gulping it down. "Ye best keep that in mind," he replied, before regaining his good humor—whiskey had that kind of an affect on a body. The tension eased and once more the common room was filled with conversation and laughter. The barkeep returned to the business of quenching his customers' thirsts and left Willy and his men to their own vices. Willy was gazing around the room for Maggie, the pretty little tart who worked at the Black Dog, when Gus placed a frothy mug of bitter ale before him. 127

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"This be fer ye," he announced. Willy smiled as he wrapped his beefy fingers around the handle. "Yer goin' to make me right happy Gus if ye keep this up. I'll be bringin' ye all me business, I will." His men laughed as he took a deep pull of the draught. "I ain't said 'twas on the house Willy." Willy scowled and wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve. "What kind o' shit are ye tryin' to pull Gus?" "Nothin'. Just tellin' ye that ain't from me, but that there gent sittin' in the corner. He says there's more where that came from if yer willin' to have a chat with the man," Gus supplied. Willy swiveled on his stool and glared into the darkest corner of the room, and could just make out the silhouette of a man lounging in the shadows. "What do ye think the bloke wants?" Marly questioned, and Moodie stared at him expectantly. Sometimes Willy wondered if the two of them shared one brain. "If I bloody well already knew that, ye think I'd be staring across the room at the bastard?" Willy growled. He took a pull of ale and shrugged his shoulders. "Might as well see what the cull wants." Grabbing their drinks, they rose from the stools and moseyed toward the back corner. The bloke was seated in the shadows with his tricorn pulled down low, hooding his eyes. He looked rough with a short cropped black beard and wide, pugilist nose. Though he wore the mean clothes of a 128

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commoner—woolen jacket, plain linen shirt and cravat—there was something suspicious about the man. Namely, his clothes were dyed pitch black, from his tricorn to his plain waistcoat and shirt. Black was a color a man of the lower class could never afford. There was something dangerous and very uncommon about the cull—Willy had sharp eyes. He was instantly on his guard. "Won't you and your companions sit down?" Alexande invited as he gestured to the three empty seats at the table. Willy Seamus was exactly as Alex had expected—a gruff stocky man of middling years, with curly red hair, a bushy beard and shrewd, dark eyes. But then, Alex paid his informants well. The two brothers—he could not mistake the family resemblance—slid into the two remaining seats while the tall, lanky smuggler leaned against the table, picking his fingernails with his knife. That one's eyes glittered dangerously in the firelight, but Alex never went anywhere unprepared. For a better part of an hour, Alexande had been at The Black Dog—a regular haunt for the local smugglers—waiting for Seamus and his gang. Despite his recent report to Newcastle, he wasn't any closer to catching Dunn's killer than on his arrival. But he hadn't been idle. He'd sent out his spies and paid anyone who could give him worthy information. And he'd learned a thing or two. 129

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Orwald Hodgeson was as crooked as they come—taking bribes from smugglers so he'd turn his bloated head the other way. Willy Seamus was the best at what he did. And a man called Espion worked from the shadows. The name was peppered throughout Dunn's reports. The late revenue officer seemed to think this Espion was responsible for more serious offences. Not free-trade tea and lace and brandy, but smuggling things out of England—but what, Dunn hadn't known. And Seamus worked for Espion. Alexande could have sent one of his people to infiltrate the gang, but he preferred to do it himself. He knew how to read people, could predict their reactions, and how to handle himself when situations got rough. Besides, this mission was too personal to the Duke of Newcastle for Alex to entrust it to even his most loyal servants. Willy eyed Alexande like a hawk, his distrust patent. "I don't want to sound ungrateful, but what the bloody hell do ye want with us?" Alex smiled coolly. "I've been asking around and was told you are the one to go to if one is looking to finance a...venture." Seamus eyed him up and down suspiciously. "Ye don't look like the kind of bloke who can afford me ventures. I wonder if yer a spy." "Looks can be deceiving. And I can assure you I am quite interested in a little free-trade," Alexande stressed. The two brothers piped in. "He doesn't look like a commoner, mayhap he's a bleedin' spy for the King's Man." 130

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"Aye, I'd bet my last ha'pence on that." The lanky smuggler remained silent and sidled closer. A warning churned in Alexande's gut. If the man thought to catch him unawares, he was sadly mistaken. "Yes well, regardless of what you might think I'm not a spy for the King's Man. I find it hard to believe you are so well off, you're willing to dismiss someone interested in doing a little business with you, Mr. Seamus," Alex replied, his voice hardening. "Ye know what I thinks? I thinks ye are a King's Man, sent to trap me after what happened to that young officer." As the words cleared Willy's mouth, the lanky smuggler pounced— firelight glinting off the wicked knife in his hand. Alexande leapt to his feet and unsheathed his rapier in one fluid motion. The dagger flashed in the shadows as it came plunging toward his chest. He twisted to the right and blocked the blow with his sword guard. Leaning into the smuggler, Alex slipped his foot behind and stepped back. His would-be assailant tripped and fell against the table. Alexande spun back around and pressed the tip of his sword to the man's throat. Slowly Alex pushed him back into the light. He glared sharply at Willy. "I do not take kindly to treachery any more than you do, Mr. Seamus. I would suggest you tell your man to back down, or he will not have a head left with which to consume another drink," Alexande growled. He pressed the blade deeper and a drop of blood welled.

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Seamus and the two brothers were watching him in wideeyed shock. Apparently their friend had never been bested— true the man was fast, but he wasn't fast enough. "All right, all right, ye made yer point," Willy conceded. "Ridley, put yer dagger away." A fat bead of sweat rolled down Ridley's thin face as he slowly replaced the dagger into the scabbard. Alex eyed him a moment longer before sheathing his sword. He sat down and continued their conversation as if nothing violent had occurred. "As I said before our unfortunate interruption, I am looking for a group of capable men wanting to make a little extra profit." Alex reached inside his pocket and retrieved a leather pouch. He tossed it onto the table and it landed with a heavy jingle of coin. Alex had discovered over the years, there was one language universally understood around the world— money. High born or low born, kings and queens, courtesans and criminals, they all spoke it. After all, money had bought him a virgin mistress. Willy reached for the bag and dumped the contents into his big palm. Ten gleaming gold guineas winked in the candlelight. "Blimey," one of the brothers whispered. Willy shoved the coins into the pouch before slipping it into his coat pocket. "What kind of venture are ye lookin' to finance?" "I know the captain of a ship who is tired of filling the King's coffers with every run of cargo from the East Indies, 132

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leaving barely a pittance for him and his crew. He's looking for a place to unload." Willy ran his fingers through his bushy beard as he eyed Alex. "And what would this ship be holdin'?" "Silks, damask, lace, velvets, spices, ivory, very good brandy and even jewels." "Bleedin' hell, Ridout could fetch us a right pretty price fer such cargo," the one brother breathed. Willy whipped around and glared at the brother next to him, until the man shrank back into his chair. Seamus turned back to Alexande and gazed at him thoughtfully. "I'd say Marly is right aboot that. But what I'm wonderin' is what's in it fer ye?" Alex shrugged. "I work for the captain. The more profit the ship gains, the more blunt lines my pockets." "How far away from port is she?" Willy asked. "She's about a sennight away. If you are interested, I would need to know by three days hence at the latest as she will be laying anchor at Swanage Bay." Willy nodded. "Aye, 'tis a good place to hide, right beneath those bastards' noses. How shall we contact ye?" "I will be back at the Black Dog in two night's time. You can give me the location then as to where the ship will anchor. I will expect no more trouble from you or your men." Willy waved aside his concerns. "With the kind of blunt yer payin' ye needn't worry. We'll be here to discuss the location and the signals. Can't be too careful with the bloody King's Men lurking aboot." "Indeed." 133

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"I must say, it'll be bloody nice to deal with red blooded Englishmen, than all those bleedin' Frenchies," the other brother commented. Willy curled a fist and glared at the smuggler, before returning his attention back to Alex. He shrugged. "Moodie's right. We've been dealin' with much too many o' those damn Frogs as o' late. A bunch a snobs the bloody lot of them are, even the swabbers." Alex tucked away that bit of interesting information. Dunn had noted an increase of French ships docking in Weymouth Bay in the dead of night. The revenue officer had suspected Espion might be involved. "Indeed. Then it's settled, in two days time you will tell me the signals and the location, and in a sennight, the ship will sail in with her precious cargo." "Aye then, ye've got yerself a gang of smugglers, Mr...?" Alexande flashed a wolfish smile. "Mr. Black." [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Twelve **** Alexande marched through Bournemouth Hall on ground eating strides, his body rippling with frustration. He should have spent the day concentrating on his very important mission, but instead, he'd been distracted by thoughts of his very lovely mistress. For tonight, she would be his. He could think of nothing but the multitude of ways he would make love to her. His body rippled with anticipation as erotic fantasies tumbled through his mind. But this night would be a slow slide into sin, an induction to his world of passion and pleasure, leaving her maidenhead intact. He'd never taken an innocent before, nor did he intend to rush this singular experience. Alex cooled his ardour as he reached the Red Rooms. It wouldn't do for her to witness his fiery need—he had to remain in control at all times. He stepped into the luxurious suite, and paused. Aubriana stood before the bank of windows, gazing at the rapidly darkening sky. Her lush golden tresses were artfully piled atop her head, revealing a slender neck. A shimmering white silk and plaited peach lace gown displayed her lithe, womanly form to perfection. His fingers itched to caress every inch of creamy skin, to comb through the silky waves of her 135

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hair. Lust squeezed his throbbing loins in a painful vice as passion erupted in his veins. She turned as he reached her. Without a word, Alexande swept her into his arms and devoured her lips in a hot turbulent kiss. He crushed her soft curves to his hard body and ravished her delectable mouth. He flicked and teased, thrusting his tongue into the sweet hollow. As she melted into his arms, eagerly pressing her breasts to his chest, he deepened the kiss, delighting in her burgeoning desire. Alex fought the burning lust, tugging hard on the restraints of his self-control. It had been nearly a month since he'd had a woman, but he would not be controlled by his fierce desires. Abruptly, he ended the kiss and set her away from him. He had to force his hands to his sides to prevent them leisurely caressing her silken skin. She stared up at him, clearly befuddled by his sudden withdrawal. "I've wanted to kiss you all day," Alex admitted. **** "H-have you?" Aubriana croaked as she stared at him, mesmerized by the blaze of desire in his dark smoky eyes. "Oh aye, and I plan to do much more this night," he whispered, his eyes sparkling with wicked intent. Aubri trembled, her mouth suddenly dry as the butterflies in her stomach unfolded their wings and began to flutter. He swept a searing gaze down her body, from head to toe. Unable to contain her blush, she glanced away. 136

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Now that the moment was at hand, she was afraid. She had agreed to give herself to this man, but could she go through with it? Yes, Lord Ravenspur was the enemy. Yes, her brother's life might very well depend on what she did this night. And yes, she found the marquis exceedingly attractive. But after tonight, after she gave herself to this man, she would never be the same again. Gently Lord Ravenspur grasped her chin and forced her to meet his gaze. "There is no need to be nervous, my sweet. I know you are an innocent, and so I promise to be as gentle as humanly possible with you. In fact, I vow not take your maidenhead this night, but to slowly introduce you to a world of sensual pleasure." Her eyes flared wide in surprise. "Y-you're not going to...to..." Aubri flushed, unable to say the words. A smile curled his lips as his voice turned husky. "No. Tonight is only the beginning, a taste of the pleasures to come." Fear settled in the pit of her stomach. Aubri stepped back, gently pulling from his light grasp. Wringing her hands in agitation, she began pacing before the fire. "Have you changed your mind, my pet? Do you no longer wish to become my mistress?" She glanced at him and saw the fire cool in his eyes. "Nno, I...I just need a moment. Perhaps if we could...t-talk?" she asked hesitantly. 137

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"Of course, whatever you wish, sweeting," he said with a smile Aubriana continued her pacing, desperate for want of a subject. She paused an arm's length from the marquis, and the words unwittingly spilled from her lips. "Wh-where were you going last night dressed all in black?" Aubri had been making her way to the study to report on his secret papers, when she'd espied a wraith silently moving down the corridor. With him dressed all in black, it had taken her a moment to realize it was the marquis. She'd plastered herself against the wall and held perfectly still until he'd passed out of sight. Aubriana had returned to her room without delay. Lord Ravenspur tensed at her words, his eyes narrowed to slits as all the warmth bled from his face. In the next instant, he stood before her, his powerful hands gripping her arms as he glared down at her with hard, cold eyes. Suddenly he was a dangerous stranger capable of doing anything to her. Aubri tried to shrink away but there was no escape. "There is a lesson you need to learn, my dear," he warned, his silky voice as chilling as hoarfrost. "A mistress never asks her lord his business. For mine is dangerous and could bring you to harm if you knew too much. If you value your life, you will never ask me again." Fear strangled her throat and twisted her vitals yet she was unable to drag her eyes from his. "If I wish, I will reveal what I will, but never question my actions or what I do. You may ask me anything else but that, do you understand?" he demanded, his wolf eyes probing, 138

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delving deep into her soul. The moment she nodded, he let go and stepped back. Aubriana swallowed the lump of fear. Chilled to the bone, she rubbed her hands up and down her arms. Though he had not harmed her, had not even bruised her, his message had been clear—she was playing with fire. Yet she couldn't understand his reaction...unless it had to do with his investigation, or something entirely more sinister. Where had he been going dressed like that? It was another mystery she would have to solve, especially once she reported it to the sheriff. What if he discovered the reasons behind her becoming his mistress was to spy on him and keep her family safe? There was no telling what he might do. But one thing was certain, she had the suspicion Lord Ravenspur's rage would be more dangerous, more lethal than the sword dangling from his lean hip. But what choice did she have? Duty demanded she complete her mission. Aubriana glanced up and found him towering over her, but the frost in his gaze had melted into molten desire. Gently he cupped her cheek, his gaze delving deeply into her eyes. "Forgive me, my pet, 'tis only concern for you which worries me," he murmured, brushing his lips lightly against hers in a sweet, provocative kiss. She stiffened. How could the man go from hard and cold to hot and wicked so quickly? Yet it took only a third brush of his lips to melt her fears. On a sigh, her lips parted and he deepened the kiss. His tongue slipped inside to tease and 139

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tangle with hers, drawing her into his web of intoxicating passion. **** Alexande groaned as her tongue shyly flicked his—yet he battled the onslaught of desire for clarity of thought. How the hell had she known he'd left in disguise last night? He'd waited until everyone was asleep and had taken great pains to leave unnoticed. Had his movements awoken her and she'd investigated? When he had his next meeting with the smugglers, Alex would be sure to take greater care. And why had she asked him? Had it been an innocent grab for conversation? Or was it something malicious? What he had told her was true—her knowing anything about his investigation could be disastrous and deadly, for them both. It was imperative to keep her in the dark, and keep her mind on the pleasure. And Alex would keep himself on his guard. But he was having a hell of a time concentrating on anything but her intoxicating kiss, and the exquisite feel of her in his arms. He slid his hand along the soft curve of her back to gently squeeze her pert buttocks, pressing her flush against his aching flesh. She tasted so sweet, he was drunk with desire. He wanted her now, to touch every silken inch, to devour every feminine curve with his hands and mouth. Alexande slipped his other hand into her hair. One by one he plucked the pins until the golden mass fell down her back like a satin curtain. He threaded his fingers through the sleek 140

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tresses, so soft and silky he wanted to feel it brushing over his heated skin, wrapped around his cock. His kiss deepened, his tongue darting in and out, mimicking the deep need pounding in his blood. She melted into him; her arms crept up his chest to wrap around his neck, pulling him even closer. The passion roiling through his veins ignited as he devoured her lips until they both were breathless with need. Tearing his mouth away from hers, he trailed kisses across her cheek and along her slender jaw. He tenderly captured her earlobe between his teeth and tugged the pink shell before sucking it into his mouth. Aubriana gasped as pleasure shot straight into the juncture of her thighs, escalating the pulsating ache. She was in the grips of such arousing agony, she knew not what would become of her. Only a desperation to feel his hands roaming over her body, touching her, kissing her...she wanted more. His hot mouth roved down her throat, sending tingles of desire racing up and down her body. Her nipples hardened with each flick of his tongue, each hot puff of breath against her skin. He pressed kisses down her chest and over the soft flesh overflowing the low square neckline of her gown. Aubri gasped as he nipped a hardened peak through her gown. Hot aching desire gushed between her legs as something slick and wet slid down her thigh. She hungered with a powerful need, wanted to surrender all of herself to the marquis. She groaned when he bit her other nipple before rising to his full height. Lowering his head, he captured her mouth in another intoxicating kiss. Her eyes drifted shut as she tightened her arms around his neck, and daringly teased his 141

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tongue with her own. She'd never felt this wildness before— this need to consume and be consumed. She was drunk with it, drunk on the fire racing through her veins. A rush of cool air caressed her breasts and her eyes snapped open. Somehow he'd unlaced her gown while he drugged her with delectable kisses. Aubri untwined her hands from behind his neck and he pushed the sleeves and bodice down to her waist. Her nipples tightened in the cool air. Fear trickled down her spine—this was happening much too fast. But before she could utter a word of protest, he spoke. "Hush sweeting. It's all right. You know I won't hurt you. Trust me," he whispered. Aubri looked into his eyes and her breath stilled. His gaze was a deep smoky grey, burning with desire. She felt the heat of it sizzle along her exposed flesh. Slowly his hands slid up her arms before cupping her aching breasts through the flimsy chemise, kneading them gently in his strong hands. A jolt of pleasure arced between her breasts to her nether lips, now slippery with her hot juices as she discovered a heretofore unknown connection. Immersed in the pleasure ravishing her senses, she watched dizzily as the marquis slowly sank to his knees before her. Suddenly his tongue flicked out to boldly lap a nipple and Aubriana was lost in a haze of bliss. A sigh escaped her as he nibbled and teased before foraging for the other peak. Her knees turned to jelly when he slipped a nipple into the scorching heat of his mouth and began to suckle. She gripped his shoulder and moaned in ecstasy. Liquid fire burst in her veins and travelled straight to 142

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her pouting cleft. She squeezed her thighs together, desperate to assuage the ache pulsating deep inside her woman's core. Alexande growled, deep in the grips of an animalistic lust. She was so sweet to taste, so responsive to touch, he wanted to devour her whole. He'd never felt this out of control, this consumed by passion. His cock ached painfully with the need for release. As he licked and suckled her succulent skin, her moans of delight shivered in the air and tugged at his pounding erection. He was so hard and thick and straining against his breeches, he feared he might explode like a green boy with his first woman. But he wanted all of her...to taste the sweet juices dripping from her mons, to lave her with his tongue until she screamed in ecstasy as he brought her to orgasm. Still sucking her nipples, he pushed her dress past her slender hips until it fell onto the floor in a soft heap of silk and lace. Deftly he untied the stays of her stiff petticoats until they too slid to the floor, leaving her in her lacy corset and transparent chemise. Rising swiftly to his feet, Alex scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed. He laid her on the satin counterpane crossways, and gently tugged until her legs dangled over the edge. Her chemise rucked up to her waist, revealing long slender legs encased in sheer peach silk stockings and satin ribbon garters. But it was the sight of her milky thighs and soft feminine curls which was nearly his undoing. 143

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He straightened and tore at his clothing, not giving a damn as he threw his coat and then waistcoat to the floor. All he could think about was her pouting nether lips and the painful throb in his engorged erection. He could see her hot honey seeping along her cleft and he knew a sudden hunger to lick and kiss her sweet honeypot. He kicked off his shoes and ungartered his silk stockings—stripping his legs bare. Releasing the buckle, the thick leather belt and fine sword fell to the floor with a heavy thud. He untied the silk cravat, letting it slip from his fingers before tugging the fine lawn shirt over his head and nonchalantly tossing it to the carpet. Aubriana watched as his marvelous physique was slowly revealed to her avid gaze. Though she was mostly ignorant about the male species, she had a feeling Lord Ravenspur was remarkable in every way. Dark whorls of fur covered the plated muscles of his broad chest, and circled his bronze nipples as hard as her own. The hair narrowed into a thin line before running down his torso and disappearing into his breeches. The snug trousers molded to his narrow hips, long muscular legs, and outlined the hard ridge of his manhood. How she yearned to touch him. She could feel the temperature rising in her body, the heated blood pounding between her legs. She raked her gaze back up his body, taking in the corded muscles of his neck, his powerful arms, his long masculine fingers. Every inch of him made her feel hungry, made her yearn to run her hands all over him, and to finally feel him beneath her fingertips. When she met his gaze, his eyes were heavy with desire. And then he moved. 144

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With the grace of a predator, he stalked to the four poster and stretched his body over hers, pressing her down into the soft bed. Aubri had never felt anything so exciting or delicious as having his big hard body lying on top of her. She felt weak next to his overwhelming strength, and yet she felt empowered with an ancient female knowledge whispering of his weakness, of his need for her. He slid his fingers into her hair and captured her mouth in a long, drugging kiss, stealing away the last vestiges of coherent thought. He licked and teased and growled, thrusting his tongue in and out of her mouth while he flexed his rigid arousal against her cleft, driving her yearning higher and higher until she was gasping with need. Alex was desperate to rein his flagging will. He was so aroused, he was on the verge of losing all control—it scared the bloody hell out of him. He knew she was aroused and ready, he could feel her juices soaking into his trousers—hot and wet. But he'd given his word, and once given, he could not go back on it. He had to taste her, now. If he couldn't make love to her, then he had to lick her, to pleasure her cunny and push her to the heights of ecstasy, to revel in her delight. Slowly Alexande slid down her delectable body, nipping and teasing her flesh as he went, his hands roaming all over her soft curves. Kneeling before her closed legs, he removed her delicate satin slippers. He slipped his hands up her silk clad legs to her knees, and began to gently pry them open, only to feel her resistance. 145

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He looked up to find her propped up on her elbows and watching him with those soulful eyes, a mix of maidenly fear and awakened desire warring in her gaze. "M-my lord, I d-don't think..." "Remember, it's Alexande, or Alex if you prefer," he gently interrupted. "Alexande," she whispered, blushing. "Aubriana," he murmured. "I'm asking you to trust me. All I want is to give you pleasure, nothing more. Trust me." For a long moment, she stared into his eyes before nodding. Without a word, she lay back onto the covers. "Open for me," he commanded. She spread her thighs the barest inch. "Wider," he urged. Finally, her muscles unclenched and she relaxed enough for Alex to open her legs until her soft pink folds were exposed. Alexande slowly glided his hands over her creamy thighs, widening her until he was firmly wedged between her knees. The passion flowed heavily through his veins as he gazed at her pouting nether lips. Soft pink, and engorged with desire, her sex was slick with the hot honey seeping from her core. He leaned forward and kissed the inside of her thigh with a teasing sweep of his tongue. She quivered. Aubriana's eyes popped open as she felt his hot mouth close over her cleft. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined a man would want to kiss her down there. She lifted herself up on her elbows and the sight of his dark head 146

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nestled between her legs was so naughty, so decadent, she gasped for breath. She slumped back against the bed, all protest having melted from her with the first wicked flick of his tongue along her nether lips, and whimpered. Alex slid his tongue along her cleft, laving her hot love juices. Never had a woman made him feel more wild, or so filled with lust. His already engorged cock hardened another impossible degree. "Delicious," he uttered against her core. He foraged through the sleek, moist petals, seeking the prize nestled there. Laving her hard clit, he teased it until she squirmed against his mouth. She panted as he tortured her nipples with his nimble fingers and suckled her bud into his mouth. A low moan tore from Aubri's lips as he tortured her with his tongue and teeth, suckling the very heart of her womanhood. A delicious wave of pleasure shot through her, making her frantic with need, with desire. Every flick of his tongue was an exquisite torture, making her more desperate in her yearning. She tore at the black riband binding his hair, until she could slide her fingers through the cool silky locks. Arching her hips, she ground her molten core to his feasting mouth. "Alex...please...," she gasped. Aubri knew not what she begged for. Suddenly he slid a finger into her sex, pumping in and out in a sensuous rhythm. Her hips bucked as she writhed and panted in desperation. He sucked on her clit, thrusting his finger faster and faster, forcing her to the edge of rapture. 147

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Aubri thrust her mons against his hungry mouth, desperate for more, wanting him to devour her whole. With each stroke of his finger, each flick of his tongue, he brought her higher and higher until she was torn by pleasure and pain. Suddenly, she arched her hips, pressing her cleft tight to his mouth. Stiffening, she exploded in orgasmic delight. Her woman's core drenched with her hot cream as she screamed his name in ecstasy. Alexande felt her coming, her soft folds convulsing around his finger as he thrust hard and deep. He devoured her hot juices as she climaxed against his tongue, ambrosia flowing into his mouth. He groaned against her mons, imagining her tight core encasing his painfully throbbing cock. Her thighs clenched his shoulders, her fingers dug into his hair as he thrust his tongue into her tight cunny over and over... Though Alex was driven mad with desire, he would not deflower her this night. He was going to keep his promise— even if it killed him. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Thirteen **** Alexande was furious. Never before had he been undone by a woman. He enjoyed making love to the fairer sex, even giving them pleasure for it heightened his own. But he never lost control. Yet, the moment he'd kissed her, touched her, his steel will had vanished. Is this what happens when one makes love to an innocent? If so, he'd been wise to avoid them. He should leave her now. He should pay her the promised monies and toss her from his life before she became a dangerous intoxication in his blood. Grinding his teeth, Alex staggered to his feet, his body tense with suppressed passion. He halted when he espied Aubriana's delicious deshabille. The sight of her nearly sent him to his knees. His body turned rigid with the need to crawl between her milky thighs and thrust his painfully hard cock into her sweet cunny until he exploded in orgasmic pleasure. Yet she lay there, oblivious to his dark thoughts. Her glorious hair spread across the counterpane, her dark lashes resting against her flushed cheeks, her pouty mouth bee stung from his fierce kisses. Her soft breasts were swollen, the dusky nipples hard and tight, pushing against the flimsy chemise. Her long legs hung bonelessly over the side of the bed, spread so wide, he could see the soft tangle of curls 149

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crowning her womanhood—glistening with the dew of her pleasure. Alexande had to summon every ounce of his will to not rip open his breeches and fall upon her like some ravening beast. Though he was a rogue, he was also a man of honor. He wasn't about to go back on his word now. Gathering his composure, he scooped her into his arms and laid her lengthwise in the centre of the bed before joining her. Laying on his side, he propped himself on his elbow so he could gaze upon her lovely countenance. He ached to trace the delicate arch of her brows, her slanting cheekbones, and the soft curve of her jaw with the pad of his finger. He yearned to brush a teasing kiss across her full lips, shocked by this sudden bout of soft tenderness tempering his raging need. He frowned wanting to dismiss it, yet unable to stop from wanting her, from touching her... **** Aubriana became aware of feather light touches across her skin. She lifted her lashes and found Lord Ravenspur...Alexande...staring down at her—his gaze dark with unsated passion...his handsome visage serious. "W-what happened?" she wondered aloud. "You had an orgasm," he replied, his eyes intense. "An...orgasm?" She was astonished. "Aye, nothing but pure pleasure," he murmured. He regarded her for a long moment, his body rigid with tension. 150

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An array of emotions flickered across his smoky gaze. It seemed to Aubri a battle waged within the man. "Is there something wrong?" she asked softly. His gaze sharpened on her, and all emotion save his desire were shuttered. Instead of answering, he leaned forward, and cupping her cheek, molded his mouth to hers in a slow, molten kiss. Instantly she felt her body awaken, a renewed pulsating in her core, a wildness in her blood. Boldly, Aubri slid a hand into the thick waves of his hair and kissed him back. She was captivated by the taste of his passion, the rough silk of his hair gliding through her fingers. They parted only when it became necessary to breathe. "You are exceedingly fair," he said softly, and seemed surprised he'd uttered the sentiment. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment at his compliment. "And you are so wickedly handsome, you would entice a virgin goddess to sin," she shyly replied. A lazy grin curved his mouth. "I already have," he said with a devilish twinkle in his eyes. She shivered. A secret longing she'd kept in check suddenly came to the fore. She wanted to touch him without the excuse of a bath. She ached to learn him with her hands and mouth as he had her. To run her fingers through the dark matting of hair, to feel the heat, the texture of his skin. "I...I...want to t-touch you," she whispered. His gaze smoldered with desire as he brushed the back of his fingers over her cheek. "You don't need to ask. We are lovers now, ma petite, which means you can touch me 151

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however you wish." He brushed a sweet kiss across her lips before lying down on his back and crossing his arms behind his head. "Do as you please, explore away." He gave her a thoroughly sinful grin—her blood sizzled with anticipation. Aubri sat up and gazed along the expanse of his magnificent body. He was no idol lord—not when he was all hard muscle and coiled strength. Even naked he exuded power and vitality, a man who was born to his station, who had not an ounce of weakness in him. As her gaze drifted over his bronzed skin, she was surprised to see fine pink scars, but then he did have a reputation for dueling. Her gaze returned to his visage and she was compelled to lean over and shyly press her lips to his. She flicked her tongue along the seam of his mouth, and when he parted his lips, her tongue darted inside. Slowly she explored every crease and crevice of his delicious mouth before daringly claiming his tongue. Their kiss grew hot and hungry as he took over, devouring her until she felt dizzy with delight. Aubri braced a hand against his chest, feeling the strong beat of his heart beneath her fingertips. She eagerly followed his lead, lick for lick, stroke for stroke. He growled into her mouth as he began thrusting his tongue into hers, setting her body aflame. It was only when she feared her lungs would burst from the want of air, she broke the kiss, softly panting. She gazed into his smoldering eyes and felt empowered. She trailed quick kisses along his cheek and jaw, his stubble tickling her chin. Her mouth moved down his corded neck as her tongue teased and licked, tasting his salty skin. She 152

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placed a gentle kiss on his collarbone, before sitting back to watch as her hands roamed all over his muscular chest. Heat seeped into her fingers as she wove them through the matting of dark hair. His muscles rippled beneath her gentle touch as she explored in ever widening circles. "I love touching your chest," she confessed. "So do I." Aubri heard the husky edge in his voice and glanced up. He was staring at her breasts. The globes were heavy, wanting his touch, her nipples were hard and tight and visible through the thin muslin. She felt the heat of her blush rise from her chest, up her throat and into her cheeks—she liked it too, but it was too wicked to confess. Her finger glided over a hardened male nipple and he shuddered. She did it again and he groaned. Her mouth went dry as she stared at the twin bronze peaks. Did she dare touch him as he had her? An aching wet heat doused her nether lips at the sinful thought. Glancing at his face, she leaned forward and teased his nipple with a flick of her tongue. He groaned. Encouraged, she wrapped her lips around his hard peak and gently suckled. "That's it, my pet. Use your hands and mouth to explore me to your heart's content." His voice was husky with need. Aubri released his nipple and went in search of the other. Eagerly she latched onto it, sucking it with more vigor as her hands roamed up and down his torso. She loved the way his muscles twitched beneath her touch. 153

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Slowly she kissed her way down his chest, his stomach. She swirled her tongue in his navel and his hips arched as he released a tortured groan. The fact this magnificent man, this powerful noble, was under her control at this very moment was intoxicating—a rush of molten need shot straight to her loins, her sex on fire. Her mouth wandered leisurely down the corded muscles of his torso until she reached the band of his breeches. Dare she continue? Unsure, she sat back and stared at the thick ridge straining against the tight brocade. She'd seen his manhood many times, had yearned to touch it, and wanted nothing more than to do so now. "What should I do?" she asked softly, worrying her bottom lip. Alexande closed his eyes and groaned. She'd done it again. Within the space of an hour, she'd aroused him to such fierce heights of need, he was on the verge of losing all control. He wanted nothing more than for her to touch him, to wrap her calloused hands around his cock and stroke him till he burst. He opened his eyes and attacked the placard of his pants. Peeling back the material, he reached inside and pulled out his stiff shaft. Unable to help himself, he stroked his throbbing rod, desperate to ease the ache pounding into his groin. He released it, afraid he might explode like a green boy, so excited was he by her simply watching his movements. 154

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"Touch me," he commanded hoarsely. She swallowed, whether out of nervousness or desire, he didn't know. Hesitantly, she slid a finger along his shaft and it bucked at her butterfly touch. She was killing him. "Wrap your hand around my cock." Aubri stared wide-eyed as she wrapped her hand around his erection, utterly amazed. He was hot, yet butter soft to the touch, like stone wrapped in silk. He pulsed in her hand, a thick vein running the length of his shaft, throbbed rapidly like a heartbeat. He was thick and hard, the heart-shaped head flushed red, engorged with blood. A drop of clear liquid welled from the tiny slit on the hood of his manhood and ran down the side. Her throat went dry and an incessant ache pulsed in her wet woman's core as if her body knew something her mind did not. She never felt so excited, so hungry for something she could not name, in her entire life. "Now stroke me up and down. Like this..." He wrapped his big hand around hers as he instructed her—together they slid their hands up and down his hard flesh. Alex released his hold and growled in pleasure as she tentatively stroked his cock. Gods, he was on fire. He wanted so badly to push her onto her back, to spread her long legs and bury his cock so deep inside her she'd writhe in ecstasy. It was sheer torture that he could not. But that did not mean he could not touch her while she pleasured him. Hungry for her, he pulled her down beside him 155

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and her grip slipped from his shaft. Placing a hand on her back, he held her close as he leaned forward and latched onto a hard nipple. Finding the edge of her chemise, he dragged it up to her slender hips and slipped a hand between her soft thighs. Alex slid his finger along her cleft and groaned against her breast. Her nether lips were swollen and so slick with her cream he ached with the knowledge. He teased her, sliding his finger up and down before slipping into her wet heat. She moaned and widened her thighs in sweet invitation as he thrust a finger deep into her cunny. Her vaginal muscles pulsed and gripped his finger, pulling him deeper and it was all he could do to keep from pushing her onto her back and thrusting in his erection instead. Lifting his head from her nipple, he gruffly bade her, "Take me into your hand and stroke me while I pleasure you." Aubriana gasped. His command was so erotic, she felt her juices flood her core. He tilted his hips toward her as she gripped his hard erection. She stroked her hand up and down, sliding over his hot rigid flesh as more liquid leaked from the tip. She'd never imagined anything so exciting in her life as pleasuring him while he pleasured her. He groaned low against her breast as he continued to suckle and nibble her nipple, sending streaks of fire straight to her nether lips. Suddenly he touched her clit and Aubri moaned—never had she experienced such exquisite agony. She canted her hips into his hand, desperate for more, 156

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needing him to thrust deeper... Her head fell back as she arched her breast into his mouth wanting him to take more, to devour her whole. Alexande was on fire. It burned through his veins and roared in his loins as he pumped into her fist. He wanted more, so much more, he was in torment with the need for release. He could feel her excitement, her soft pink folds drenched with arousal. He thrust his finger into her sex in a slow rhythm, in and out, over and over again. She gasped and ground her hot mons into his hand as he plunged his middle finger in rapid succession, his thumb teasing her clitoris. As she writhed with pleasure, her hand grew slack around his cock. "Grip me harder, stroke faster," he demanded raggedly against her breast. Aubriana moaned and fought the fog of rapture consuming her senses. She rubbed him harder, faster, and found the act exciting. Tightening her grip around his pulsating flesh, she worked him, her fist sliding up and down his slick erection. He bucked his hips, meeting each of her strokes. She was lost in a haze of passion, never imagining it would be pure ecstasy to bring him to pleasure as he touched her. She writhed, undulating her hips into his hand as he added a second finger to the first, filling her core, pushing her higher and higher—inundating her with waves of pure bliss. Still she pumped his engorged shaft. Alex had never before been in the grips of such sweet agony. Her luscious sex pulsated with each hard stroke of his fingers. She squirmed beneath him, her body slick with 157

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sweat, and so hot to the touch she nearly burned him. Her moans and sighs of delight, as he rubbed and teased her bud with his thumb, pushed him closer and closer to climax. His cock ached for release as he ground it into her hot little fist, his balls so tight against his body, he was ready to burst. Aubri's eyes opened wide as the flutters in her womb turned into pulsating waves of joy. She sucked a great gulp of air as the rapture built higher and higher until she exploded in orgasmic bliss. Her body arched, her core gripped his fingers as she was consumed by a storm of pleasure. She screamed his name as she furiously pumped her fist up and down his straining shaft. Alex groaned as her hot core pulsed around his fingers, her whole body turning rigid. He had only a moment to enjoy the sweet sight before his own orgasm hit. He gasped against her breast, driving his flesh harder and faster into her hand. A tortured groan of ecstasy spilled from his lips as his hot, milky seed erupted and arced across the bed in a pearly stream. He thrust his cockstand against her palm a half a dozen times before the spurts finally ceased and he fell limply against the bed. Aubriana lay panting, aftershocks rocking her woman's core. She was astonished by the power behind the orgasm. Never would she have guessed pleasuring a man as he pleasured her could be so arousing, so intoxicating. It was a long moment before her heartbeat slowed and she became aware of her hand still gripping his semi-arousal. She gazed down the length of his body and was surprised to find her hand sticky. 158

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She felt a hand brush the damp tresses from her forehead and turned to find Alexande gazing at her with heavy lidded eyes. He looked so deliciously rumpled, so satisfied and sexy, her heart melted at the sight of him. A sinful smile curled his lips as he suddenly wiggled his fingers—which were still buried deep inside her. She gasped. His grin widened as he slid his hand from her sex, and bringing it to his mouth, licked his fingers clean of her juices. She stared, aroused and surprised by his actions. Her gaze dropped down to his shaft and she released him. Bringing her hand closer, she inspected the stickiness—it was warm and milky, musky and masculine in scent, and it caused her core to ache unbearably. "What is it?" she asked. "It's my seed," he murmured. "Can I...can I taste it?" she queried. His eyes gleamed wickedly at her request. "If you like." Aubri gazed at his seed for a moment, before bring her finger up for a taste. She hadn't known what to expect, but it certainly was nothing she could have imagined. His seed was musky and pleasantly salty. She licked her fingers clean before sucking them into her mouth. Alex groaned at the sight of her devouring his essence, her pink tongue darting in and out in little flicks before she sucked her fingers clean. Gods, what he would give to feel her hot little mouth on his cock instead! His semi-erect shaft stretched with excitement at the thought, happy to go another round—but not tonight. 159

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He propped his head on his hand and gazed down at her. She looked so soft and sated, she practically glowed from the after effects of their loving. And for the first time in his life, he wanted to crow with the knowledge it was he who had brought her to such pleasure. He felt a strange kind of possessive pride at the thought. "What will it feel like to have your cock inside me?" Had Alex been drinking, he did not doubt he would have spewed liquid all over the bed. Her innocent question and the bold use of "cock", had the blood pumping a little harder, a little faster through his veins. "From all the women I have been with, they have told me it feels wonderful," he replied. She opened her mouth as if to speak but he gently laid a finger against her lips to stall her words. He knew what she was going to say next, and if he was going to hold to his promise, he didn't want to test the strength of his iron will any further. "Love, I know you want to explore more, but I think you've had enough pleasure for one night. I don't want to rush you. Tomorrow, I promise you will discover the joy of being skin to skin," he said softly. Love. He frowned. He never used the endearment with any of his paramours. It was too dangerous, too easily misinterpreted to mean something more than it was. Why he should use it now with her disturbed him. Alexande kissed her to keep her quiet, before turning away to stuff his arousal back in his breeches. 160

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She watched him expectantly, looking too serious by far. He should take his leave. Should simply roll out of bed and walk to his own suite next door. But he didn't. For reasons unknown, he turned on his side and pulled her to him. She sighed contentedly and snuggled against him as he wrapped a possessive arm around her waist. Alexande held her close in the darkening room, and listened to her soft, steady breaths, the even beat of her heart. Somewhere in the enormous house, a clock struck ten. Relaxing, he dared to let his guard down for a moment, to enjoy the feel of her in his arms. Sternly, he reminded himself, he was only here to hold her until she fell asleep. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Fourteen **** It was a perfect day for travelling. Too bad Aubri couldn't enjoy it more. She sat beside the window, gazing at the ever changing vista. The softly rolling hills, the lush meadows with their delicate spring flowers, the thickets of budding trees. On any other day, she would have been utterly fascinated, content to watch the world glide by. But not today. Nothing, it seemed, could distract her from the man sitting across from her...or thoughts of last night. Aubriana couldn't believe she'd done it—in the name of duty she'd given herself to Lord Ravenspur. It wasn't that she regretted it, in fact she did not, it was that it had changed her. She might not have given him her virginity, but she might as well have for she was different. She could feel it in the marrow of her bones. Not only was she altered but the world around her. Colors seemed brighter, sounds clearer, as if her senses had sharpened. Like a kitten opening her eyes and seeing the world for the first time. It was extremely disconcerting. But what was more unnerving was Alexande himself. Weren't villains supposed to be brutal and abusive? Yet Alex was neither one of those things. His kisses were intoxicating, his touch mesmerizing. She'd never known such passion and pleasure existed, and she wanted more. But it was the 162

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tenderness which puzzled her. Ravenspur did not seem the kind of man to be tender with any woman—gentle yes, but not tender. Tenderness went beyond the physical pleasure and bespoke of something deeper. Yet she'd seen it in his eyes, felt it in his touch. And it scared her. She didn't want anything deep with this man. He was her enemy. It was his fault her family was in dire straits. His fault Bram had become a smuggler. And she was a spy and his mistress. Her only concern was to complete her mission and keep her brother safe. Duty was all that mattered. Duty to her family, duty to the sheriff, duty to her king. Duty and justice. **** Aubri sat poised on the edge of her seat, fascinated by the colorful pageantry as the harbor city of Poole rambled past the carriage window. Genteel lords and ladies, decked in all their finery, promenaded along the footpaths, rubbing shoulders with ordinary men and women going about their daily chores. Hawkers stood on the street corners, selling their wares in loud sing-song voices. Gangs of dirty ragamuffins and pickpockets lurked in the shadowed doorways and alleys, waiting for their next victim. Hacks, carriages and coaches slowly lumbered past as they maneuvered through the traffic-choked streets. As they travelled deeper into the city, the genteel and common folk were replaced by sailors, tars, laborers, 163

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and...strumpets—young and old, ugly and fair, they stood about the thoroughfares, the bodices of their cheap gowns cut so low, their breasts nearly spilled into the roadway. Some were so bold they pleasured their customers in plain sight. It was all so terribly captivating, she hadn't realized they'd turned onto the quay until she noticed the endless line of warehouses, seedy taverns, inns, brokers, and dockside merchants. "We are here, ma petite," the marquis announced as the carriage slowed to a gentle stop. Startled, she glanced at him. "Here where?" A hint of a smile touched his lips but his eyes remained hooded as he leaned forward. Gathering her cardinal about her shoulders, he fastened the cloak with a bejeweled broach. He tied the satin ribbon beneath her chin and tucked a stray curl into her wide-brimmed hat. "You shall see," he replied as the carriage door opened. He stepped down and turned back to offer his hand. Aubri blinked as she stepped into the bright sunlight, and gasped. Hundreds of ships lay anchor, the enormous masts rising into the air in an endless forest of barren trees. There was every type of ship imaginable—warships, merchantmen, whalers, schooners, frigates, brigs, and small fishing craft. Laborers worked the cranes as they unloaded cargo and cracked cannons needing replacement. Tars walked up and down gangplanks with stacks of ropes and nets, or unloaded crates and barrels to be stored in the massive warehouses. Seagulls squawked and dove, hoping to catch a quick meal as 164

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the fishermen unloaded their nets. It was a teeming, vivid tapestry far grander than Weymouth's modest four ship harbour. "Come, I would show you one of the finest merchant ships in these parts," Lord Ravenspur remarked as he escorted her down a long, wide dock. They'd nearly reached the end, when he paused. "There she is," he said, gesturing to one of the ships, "The Sea Hawk. She's a 1200 ton, double deck, three square mast merchantman with forty-six guns." The Sea Hawk towered over the other ships, and looked more a warship than any merchant she'd seen, but it was magnificent. Though massive, the ship was sleek and graceful with the most amazing figure carved upon the prow. It was a beautiful and serene woman with long auburn hair flowing wildly as if caught by the wind. Her transparent Grecian gown, draped over one shoulder, revealed a perfect lush breast and barely hid her woman's mound. Her milky thighs and long legs melded with the ship. Huge wings, unfurled from her shoulders, lay back, their tips touching the hull as though she was flying into the wind. They looked so real, so beautiful, Aubri would not have been surprised had they moved. "She's beautiful," she breathed, truly awed. "When I was younger, I had dreams of captaining my own ship, but alas it was not to be. Had I, the Sea Hawk would have been mine." His voice was quiet, his mouth a firm line. Aubri glanced at him and was surprised by the tinge of anger and regret in his eyes. 165

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Why would the heir of a marquis long to be a sea captain? "I'm sorry," she replied softly, and touched his arm in sympathy. He flashed her a warm smile, but his eyes were shuttered behind a mask of cool charm. "Come, sweeting, I would take you onboard." They climbed the gangplank and stepped onto the upper deck. The ship creaked and sighed as it gently moved beneath her feet—the waves lapping at the hull. There was a flurry of activity as sailors coiled ropes, and hoisted the masts. One of the sails had huge tears in the canvas and was being taken down for repairs. There was sawing and hammering, shouting and ribald jests as the tars hurried about their duties, no doubt eager to begin their shore leave. She tipped her head back and gazed up at the very top of the mainmast where the union jack and the Ravenspur crest flag snapped in the wind. She espied a man hanging over the side of the crow's nest, nearly falling out of it as he made repairs. Aubri tore her gaze away—the sight made her dizzy. She paused to regard a tall masculine figure marching down the stairs of the quarterdeck. He wore a uniform of black superfine wool with gold braid, accentuating his broad shoulders and trim waist. A froth of expensive lace spilled from his perfectly knotted cravat and wide cuffs, adding a touch of elegance. Tall, highly polished boots covered his feet to his knees. An ornate gold scabbard peeked from between the starched skirts of his jacket. With his tricorn perched at a jaunty angle, he looked every inch the gentleman officer. He made his way across the deck toward them. 166

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"Permission to come aboard, Captain," the marquis requested. A broad smile curved the captain's lips, his white teeth glowing against the deep gold of his swarthy skin. "Permission granted, Lord Ravenspur." His gaze shifted to her. "Captain, may I present to you, Miss Aubriana Welbery," the marquis said with a flourish as he made the introductions. "Mademoiselle, may I present to you, Captain Jonathan Grant, one of the best damn captains in my merchant fleet." Captain Grant showed a leg as he bowed gracefully. Taking her hand, he brushed his lips across her knuckles. "Truly a pleasure," he remarked smoothly, his eyes sparkling as he gazed down at her. Still holding her hand, he straightened and ran a finger across her palm. She shivered and he released her. It was a moment before she realized he was flirting with her. "Indeed," she murmured, a blush warming her cheeks. The twinkle in the captain's eyes deepened. "To what do we owe the pleasure of gazing upon such remarkable beauty?" he asked. "You flatter me, Captain," Aubri boldly responded. "But tell me, how long have you been out to sea and when did you return?" Grant arched a golden brow. "I and my men have been gone eight long months, Miss Welbery. Long enough to know when to feast upon even a glimpse of beauty when presented before us." "And how long have you been in port?" she pressed. His smile turned sheepish. "Three days, mademoiselle." 167

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"Long enough then for you and your men to have a sampling of some of the blossoms this city has to offer, no doubt," she responded daringly. It was not a subject a young woman should talk about, let alone acknowledge, but Aubri couldn't seem to help herself. Captain Grant's smile deepened, clearly amused. "You seem to know a great deal about sailors and the needs of men, Miss Welbery." Aubri felt Lord Ravenspur stiffen beside her, but she refused to take notice. "I live outside the small port town of Weymouth, and my brother works at the harbor. One does learn of such things, no matter how innocently." "Indeed," he replied, his deep blue eyes glowing with mischief. Aubriana didn't doubt for a moment she was facing another rogue. No question the handsome Captain had wooed his share of lovely women, and for some reason was deliberately flirting with her. Not that she minded overmuch. "Captain, there is urgent business I would discuss with you, in all due haste." The marquis's voice was edged with annoyance. "Of course," Grant replied, his gaze briefly alighting on Lord Ravenspur. "But what of my lady?" The captain flashed her another sensual smile. "Would you like a tour of the ship? I'm sure Lord Ravenspur would be more than happy to show off The Sea Hawk." The marquis suddenly squeezed her hand, and Aubri turned to him—Grant's spell broken. Her pulse leapt as she gazed into Alexande's handsome visage. "I was wondering if 168

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perhaps you would like to inspect the cargo?" he said softly, his smoldering gaze delving into her own. "What have you in your hold this time, Captain?" Alex asked, still looking into her eyes—he seemed most possessive of her. "Silks, satins, furs, velvets, jewels, the finest brandy and wine France has to offer." Aubri turned to the captain in surprise. "But we're at war with France." Grant shrugged his shoulders. "Trade is trade, my lady, regardless of who is at war with whom. 'Tis always been the way of things." Suddenly he turned and bellowed, "Mr. Anderson!" His voice boomed across the deck. Aubri nearly jumped out of her skin. Lord Ravenspur cupped her cheek and returned her gaze to his. "Take a tour of the ship, my sweet," he ordered softly, "and take a good look at the cargo. Anything you desire is yours. But stay close to the first mate, Mr. Anderson. You must not stray too far from his person, do you understand?" "Yes," she murmured, nodding. "Good." Mr. Anderson ran up to the captain, and skidded to a halt as he tugged on his forelock. "Aye Capt'n?" "Mr. Anderson, I would like you to give Miss Welbery a tour of the ship, ending with the cargo, where she has free reign. Do you understand?" Grant demanded sternly. "Aye, aye, Capt'n!" The first mate saluted the marquis before turning to Aubriana. 169

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"Ma'am," he greeted. "I'll just bet you're eager to see our forty-six guns." He turned and began walking across the deck. Aubri gazed up at Lord Ravenspur hesitantly. He smiled down at her and gave her hand an encouraging squeeze. She disengaged her arm, and hurried after Mr. Anderson. **** Alexande stared after her, not wanting to let her go. The notion was disquieting. He'd only brought her along to disguise the real reason why he'd come to Poole—to speak with Jonathan Grant. If he was to gain the trust of Willy Seamus and his gang, he had to prove he was a man of his word by providing them with a ship full of contraband. Only then could he grill the smugglers for information. Aubri was merely a cover, and yet...he'd enjoyed her company in the carriage. "Shall we go to my quarters then?" Grant queried as he too stared after her. Alex flashed him a wolfish grin. "Lead on." The great cabin, beneath the quarterdeck, was far more luxurious than anyone would expect—or Captain Grant deserved. And it would have been Alexande's had he not been forced to become the next Marquis of Ravenspur. The walls were covered in lacquered cherry wood, making the spacious room warm and inviting. The finest cabinets and furniture to be had in the seven seas were bolted to either the walls or the floor. Red velvet drapes enclosed the rather large 170

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berth—no doubt where the lusty captain entertained his women whenever he was in port. A large walnut desk with twin burgundy leather chairs occupied the other end of the cabin. Captain Jonathan Grant stepped to the sideboard and splashed a deep reddish-gold liquid into two snifters. "Brandy? I have some of the finest from France. I reserved your usual two barrels." Alexande nodded as he sat down in the deep leather chair before the captain's desk, and stretched out his long legs. He nodded his thanks as he took the snifter. "So," Grant said as he settled behind his desk, "what is this urgent business all about?" Alex smiled grimly as he gently swirled the brandy around and around, warming it with his hand. "I only said it was urgent so you would stop your infernal flirting with Miss Welbery." The captain laughed as he opened a mahogany humidor and offered him a cigar. "Ah, yes. I did catch the warning in your eyes." "Aye, and you bloody well chose to ignore it," Alex groused as he took a cigar and lit the end with a candle flame. He inhaled deeply, enjoying the tangy taste of the tobacco, the pleasant aroma of the smoke. It was a rare treat indeed, for peers of the realm did not smoke but inhaled snuff. Smoking was considered below genteel men. Alexande glanced around the room and felt a stab of envy. If only his brother hadn't died, then Alex would be captain of The Sea Hawk...but such was life. 171

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"What is a little harmless flirtation? Besides, she seems much too taken with you to hardly notice me," Jonathan offered. "Ha," Alex laughed, and took a sip of brandy. "So, is the lovely Miss Welbery your latest mistress? She seems much too pure and innocent for an old roue like you." Alex nearly choked on the brandy, but managed to recover. He narrowed his eyes upon his friend. "Whatever she is to me is my business and no one else's," he growled. Grant held up his cigar and brandy in a show of surrender. "She's yours, I won't ask any more questions. I don't want to meet you on the field over something so trivial." Alex frowned, realizing his words had almost sounded...jealous. But that was ridiculous. He was never possessive of any lady. He could take or leave his lovers with a nonchalance that vexed most women. Why would Aubriana be any different? Was it because he'd yet to bed her? Still, he didn't like the thought of Grant sniffing around her skirts. "Good," he murmured, and took a thoughtful puff on his cigar. He turned his thoughts to the matter which had brought him to Poole. "I noticed the repairs, and the new mainmast. Did you have any problems en route?" Captain Grant leaned back in his chair and took a deep pull of his brandy. He seemed unusually tense of a sudden, which surprised Alex. They were far beyond employer and employee after all. 172

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"Aye, we ran into a devil of a storm off the coast of Portugal. It tore off the mainmast and ripped bloody holes in the fore topsail. Unfortunately, I lost two crewmen. Good men too, they were." There was a moment of silence for the dead. Alex eyed Jonathan and was surprised to realize his friend was avoiding his gaze, almost as if he had something to hide. "Terribly sorry to hear it. Have you notified the families yet?" "When we reach London, I will visit their wives personally," Grant replied, before taking a long puff on his cigar. "Good. Make sure they get the usual compensation. I don't like thoughts of their widows and children going hungry." "Aye, I always do," Jonathan said solemnly. Alexande took a moment to enjoy his fine brandy and cigar while covertly watching his friend. He was hiding something. Alex could see it in the captain's subtle body language. Could it have something to do with the storm which took the two men's lives? Perhaps the damage to the ship and the loss of lives were due to Grant's misjudgment. But whatever the case, Alex would not pursue it. They had been friends far too long, and he knew Jonathan to be an honorable man. If he had miscalculated, if he had made a bad decision which had cost men their lives, the captain would carry the burden with him for the rest of his life. He didn't need a lashing from others. Alexande pushed his speculations aside and puffed on his cigar.

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"Speaking of London, there is a matter of great importance I need to discuss with you. A favor, actually. Something highly irregular." Jonathan took a sip of brandy and the tension melted from him. Suddenly he leaned forward, the familiar devil-may-care glint in his eyes as if he knew it would be exciting and dangerous. "Tell me what you want me to do." [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Fifteen **** Aubriana wasn't sure if she was awake or dreaming. She inhaled a deep breath and a pungent bouquet of horse droppings, rubbish, flowers, and freshly baked bread assaulted her nose. It wasn't a dream. She was promenading down the cobble footpath on Lord Ravenspur's arm in the city of Poole. Gentlemen nodded as they passed, and ladies offered genteel greetings. All her life Aubri had known the censure of others. She'd felt their stares as she waited outside the apothecary while her brother purchased the much needed medicine for their mother. She'd heard the whispers and caught the snide looks from the other village girls as they assessed her from head to toe—wearing her mother's outdated dresses and scuffed shoes. All because her family was dirt poor. But at this very moment, none of that mattered. Because no one knew she was a farmer's daughter playing spy and masquerading as the marquis's mistress. She glanced at Ravenspur—Alexande. Devilishly handsome and fashionably attired, he was more dashing than any of the gentlemen they passed. It was because of him, she knew a moment of happiness—the first one in weeks. Aubri glanced around her, absorbing the sights and sounds of the bustling city. 175

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"Are you enjoying yourself, my pet?" The husky whisper in her ear made Aubriana shiver. She looked at him and nearly tripped as she met his gaze. His smoldering eyes met hers as that dazzling smile curved his sensual lips. Her knees weakened. "Yes, my lord," she murmured softly. "Alexande," he reminded her. "Alexande." His eyes grew heavy as his gaze shifted to her lips. He leaned forward and Aubri's heart skipped a beat. Was he about to kiss her? She couldn't let him, not here, not in public, not when she had some shred of respectably. Aubriana whirled away and nearly smacked nose first into the shop's glazed window. She heard a soft chuckle behind her. "Careful, my sweet, I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself." Her cheeks flamed as she stared down at the window display. And found herself gazing longingly at a rainbow of satin hair ribbons. "My sister, Lydia, would be thrilled with one of those ribbons. She loves pretty things, but so rarely can we afford them." "Come," he commanded as he gently tugged her away from the window. Aubri was shocked when he escorted her into the shop and bought every single ribbon and three lovely, enameled hair combs. She tried to dissuade him, but he would have none of it. "For you and your sisters," he said as he presented her with the pretty package. 176

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And so the afternoon wore on, with the marquis buying whatever happened to catch her fancy, regardless of the expense. Aubri tried not to stare into too many shop windows. When they reached the milliner's, he escorted her inside without a word and left her to peruse the tables and shelves. Aubri paused when she caught sight of row after row of silk stockings and beribboned garters. She picked up a stocking and gently rubbed it between her gloved fingers. She didn't need to remove her gloves to know it was sinfully soft. She was wearing a pair, and every time her legs brushed beneath her skirts she felt something hot jolt between her thighs. "Find something you like, ma petite?" His warm breath brushed her neck and Aubri gasped. She dropped the stocking guiltily and turned to leave when his arms came around her, his body caging her against the table. "No need to run, my sweet," he murmured as he reached around her and picked up a pair of black silk stockings and matching garters. "In fact these will go nicely with my other purchases. Would you like to see what I've bought?" Aubri swallowed as he brushed his lips against her ear. Her pulsed thundered and her nipples hardened as desire danced along her skin. "N-no, please, there's no need to buy more, you've already purchased too much," she protested. She heard the smile in his voice when he replied. "But that's where you're wrong, my pet. A beautiful woman should always have lacy corsets and sheer chemises to hug her lovely body." 177

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The heat in her cheeks doubled, and Aubriana feared she was about to go up in flames. After picking out a half a dozen pairs of stockings and garters, he left her to pay for his purchases. Aubriana watched as Lord Ravenspur handed several more packages to his footman, before taking her hand and placing it on his arm. They continued along the footpath in companionable silence. She was surprised to realize there was a mutual air of contentment between them. There was desire too; it hummed and vibrated just below the skin. It made her keenly aware of his deeply masculine and sensual nature—of the sandalwood scent teasing her senses, of the flex of muscle beneath her hand. But there was more. Though she'd worked for the marquis for nearly a month now, she'd learned there was a hardness inside him, like steel cased in velvet. He was passionate, and gentle and tender, but underneath he was hard and dark and cool. Aubri knew she should feel nothing but contempt for this man, but she didn't. He was her enemy, he was responsible for her family's downfall, and he was dangerous. Yet, at this very moment she didn't care who or what he was, only that she was with him. Aubriana found the revelation greatly disturbing. **** Alexande gazed absently out the shop window, waiting for the cobbler to tally his purchases. 178

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He had intended to make this a quick trip—speak with Captain Grant and return to Bournemouth. But after witnessing Aubriana's complete fascination with everything, and her frugality when he'd offered her anything from The Sea Hawk's hold, he'd made a quick decision to spoil her and knew a perverse pleasure in doing so. Surprisingly, he'd never had a more enjoyable afternoon simply shopping with a woman. Normally his paramours cajoled, whined, and seduced for their jewels and gowns, townhouses and carriages—he didn't tolerate demanding mistresses. As if their favors were something precious to be bestowed upon a lucky few, instead of available to the highest bidder with enough blunt lining his pockets. Of course, everyone knew those gifts entitled more passion in the bedroom—he wondered if Aubri understood the rules of the game, but something told him she didn't. He'd already filled the carriage's boot with dozens of bolts of silks, satins, brocades, damasks, and taffeta taken from The Sea Hawk so his private modiste could create a new wardrobe for Aubri—though his new mistress had already contested the extravagance. But Alexande liked beautiful things, and as long as she remained with him, he would see her beauty displayed in the utmost fashion. He'd known particular enjoyment when he'd taken her to the milliner to purchase some very intimate apparel, silken unmentionables to caress her soft curves and heighten his passion. She'd been so embarrassed, and perhaps a little scandalized by his purchases, he'd been hard pressed not to laugh. 179

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Alex paused as he caught sight of something down the street. A smile curved his mouth at the thought of giving Aubri such a gift. He was not one to normally purchase something so sweet, but Aubriana was a different kind of girl and he had the feeling this simple gift would mean more to her than everything else he'd bought for her this day. She would surely be that much more generous when they made love this night. "I want you to stay here, sweeting," he murmured as he turned to address her. Desire erupted in his veins. She looked so soft and beautiful, he wanted to pull her into his arms and devour her lush lips, but he held himself back. She was still too shy, too insecure, and he didn't want to embarrass her by his amorous display. However, there was always the return carriage ride... "I need to get something across the way, but I want you to stay here. I wouldn't want your skirts dirtied from all the mire in the street. And the carriage is too far away for you to walk there alone. Promise me you will stay here and wait for me." She slowly nodded. "Of course." **** Aubriana watched through the window as the marquis paused at the edge of the footpath before darting through the slow moving traffic. He walked down the block, then disappeared around a corner. Restless, she turned away from the window and espied the shoemaker standing behind the counter. He flashed her a smile and she nodded shyly. 180

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Was the cobbler aware she was Lord Ravenspur's mistress? A clock ticked away the minutes and she became more uncomfortable by the moment. It was stuffy in the little shop, and the sounds and smells of the cobbler and his assistants working made her head ache. What she wouldn't give for a breath of fresh air... Surely it wouldn't hurt to await the marquis outside? What difference would it make? Aubri slipped out the door and inhaled a deep breath. Ahhh...she sighed, immediately feeling better. Besides, it was a lot more fun watching the traffic go by outside rather than in the cobbler's shop—the gentle born men and women promenading, the venders selling their wares. Aubri's heart went out to the little girl selling flowers in her tattered dress. Though she loved her visit to Poole, she wouldn't want to live in such a place. The town of Weymouth was plenty big for her. Her heart leapt when the marquis came into view. He looked so tall and handsome, his long strides carrying him up the footpath across the street. She did not think there was a more magnificent man in all of Dorset. He stopped before a lovely young woman with a parasol, and bowing, took up her hand for a kiss. Suddenly he swept the girl into his arms and kissed her passionately in broad daylight, seeming not to care he was causing a scene. Aubri blinked. Surely her eyes were deceiving her... 181

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But it was him, she was certain of it—she couldn't mistake his tall masculine form, or his deep blue velvet coat, or black hair queued beneath his tricorn. She was too far away to see his face clearly, but she knew it to be him. Her blissful happiness of moments before shattered into a thousand piercing shards. A terrible pain clutched her breast, squeezing her heart mercilessly. But Aubri clenched her fists and forced the pain down. Had she forgotten he was a rake? How foolish to think he would be loyal onto her alone. Who knew how many mistresses were stashed away all over England...maybe he had a lover in every town, every city? Sickened by the sight of him kissing another, Aubri turned and marched into the alleyway. She was horrified to realize her vision was swimming before her eyes. Angrily she wiped away her tears. He didn't deserve tears or any other tender emotion. She hated him. Aubriana began to pace, fanning the flames of her fury, desperate to burn away the pain. The sheriff had hired her to spy on the marquis, not fall for his roguish charms or surrender to his skilled seduction. She had far more at stake than Lord Ravenspur—her brother's life. Aubri inhaled a calming breath and spun around, preparing herself for the worst. But like it or not, she could not still the heartache creeping through her chest.

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She stared at the street. It took her a moment to realize he and the young lady had disappeared—no doubt for a quick tryst. Aubri stilled, her heart froze as she suddenly espied a tall and incredibly handsome gentleman striding up the street. His tricorn sat at a jaunty angle atop raven hair, the queued tail gleamed in the sunlight. Then she recognized the cobalt blue of his coat; the fancy silver embroidery around the cuffs and hem of the jacket's stiff skirts; and the robin-blue breeches clinging to his long, muscular legs. Elation chased away her heartache—she'd been mistaken. He hadn't been kissing another woman! Beyond a doubt, this man was Alexande. She was so giddy with relief she nearly laughed aloud as joy welled in her heart. Aubri shook her head. She was a bigger fool than she thought. A moment ago she hated him, and now she was overjoyed to see she was wrong. She slid her hands down her silk skirts to smooth out the wrinkles while she struggled to compose herself. Inhaling another calming breath, she squared her shoulders and stepped toward the street. A hand snaked out of the shadows to clamp over her mouth as an arm, unrelenting as steel, slid about her waist. She was yanked against something hard and warm. "Well look w'at we 'ave 'ere?" A gruff voice growled low beside her ear. Hot breath, foul with the stench of rotting teeth, blasted her cheek, making her gag. Her eyes widened 183

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with terror as she was dragged deep into the darkened alleyway. **** Alexande strolled up the street, careful of the basket he held in the crook of his arm. A smile tugged at his lips as he greeted every man and woman he passed. There was an unusual lightness in his step and his heart. Of course he'd never bought such a gift for any woman, and knew Aubri would be delighted—and more receptive when he took her innocence tonight. There wasn't a doubt he enjoyed women. There was nothing compared to soft, silky curves, the eager moans and breathless sighs of a lady in the heat of passion. Truth be told, he would much rather spend an evening in a courtesan's bed, than at a gaming table sharpening his cutting wit, or sharing meaningless pleasantries with equally bored members of the ton at some demanding social function. But outside of bed, Alexande had no need for female companionship. In fact, the only female he could stand and even liked was his sister, Elizabeth. He loved bantering with Elizabeth—with her charm, quick wit, sharp intelligence, and passionate nature—she was like a fresh breeze on a stifling summer's day. Perhaps that's what drew him inexplicably to Aubri, she reminded him very much of his sister. But that did not mean he trusted her. Long ago, he learned women were fickle creatures with whirling wheels for hearts—their words and their loyalty never 184

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to be trusted. His own mother had imprinted that hard lesson on to his soul—he would not soon forget. Yet he didn't quite understand his fierce desire for Aubriana. True she was innocent—something he'd never indulged in before, but how different could she possibly be from every other conniving, deceitful female? It had to be the anticipation of tonight, the high of the conquest, the predator circling his prey and preparing for the "kill." His body was wound up tight and ready for a night of pure, hard pleasure. It could be the only explanation behind his eagerness to please her. He crossed the street and let his worries drop away. A smile played around his lips as he approached the cobbler's shop. He hoped he hadn't kept her waiting too long... A scream pierced the air—and was abruptly cut short. Alex's blood turned to ice, the hairs rose on the back of his neck as every instinct jolted to life. He dropped the basket, and unsheathing his rapier, raced into the darkened alley. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Sixteen **** Aubriana shrieked against the hand clamped over her mouth. She was being dragged deep into the shadowed alley by an unknown assailant. She couldn't begin to imagine what he might do to her. Aubri had to escape, and there was only one distasteful thing to do. She didn't hesitate...she sank her teeth into the fleshy part of his palm and bit hard. "Ye li'l bitch," the man growled. Instantly he released her, and hurtled her across the alley. Her back slammed against a rough brick wall, knocking the wind from her lungs. She doubled over, wheezing and coughing like an old woman, desperate for air. "She's a mighty fine li'l piece ain't she?" Dazed, Aubri glanced up and froze. Two grubby, brutish men blocked the entrance of the alley—her only escape. Lust gleamed in their eyes as they slowly advanced upon her. She shuddered with revulsion and fear. "O', aye, she's a right fine piece if ye ask me. Probably gets swived by a swell." He was tall and lanky, with keen eyes, and a sharp nose and chin—a hawk hunting for prey. But his friend was a bull—a towering beast with broad 186

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shoulders, a pugilist's face, and arms like tree trunks. He was so huge the alley seemed tiny in his presence. Aubri pressed against the dirty wall at her back, and stared at the two men slowly advancing on her. "Pl-please don't hurt me." "We ain't goin' to 'urt ye, just 'ave a li'l fun," the bull replied with a wide grin, displaying a row of rotten and yellow teeth. "Why don't ye give us yer blunt and then we'll let ye go?" the hawk demanded. Aubri swallowed. She didn't have anything more than a couple of pennies—not enough to satisfy these brutes, or to buy her freedom. She fumbled with her skirts as she pulled out the small silk purse the marquis had gifted her. The bull snatched it from her hand and the two men hovered over the reticule. Greedily, they tore into the small bag, nearly ripping it apart. This could be her only chance! Slowly, Aubriana sidled along the grimy stone wall, inch by agonizing inch she moved closer to the entrance, to freedom, to Alexande. Her pulse thundered in her ears, nearly deafening her. She was almost there...just a few more feet of rubbish and she would be free. "W'at the bloody 'ell is goin' on 'ere?! There's nothin' but two bloody coppers!" someone growled. Aubri's heart leapt into her throat. "Looks like 'er liedyship is gonna 'ave to give us a fuck after all," came the menacing reply. 187

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Aubriana glanced back and watched in slow motion as the two brutes turned toward the wall—and found her gone. "W'at the bloody 'ell!" "Get 'er!" bellowed the hawk. Aubri picked up her skirts and raced for the entrance, her legs tangling in the heavy petticoats and gown. Their footfalls pounded behind her. She was almost there, almost to the street, to people. She looked back. The ruffians were nearly upon her. She turned forward and screamed as she stumbled over the trash strewn across the alley. A beefy hand clamped over her mouth, cutting off her desperate cry as his arm snaked about her waist. Her feet flailed as she was lifted off the ground. She clawed and kicked and bit, fighting like a cornered cat, but to no avail. Terror seized her as she was carried deeper into the alley, and flung into the air. She landed on a pile of rubbish and banged her head on something hard. Addlepated, she stared at the towering brutes. "Ye didn't think ye'd be leavin' that easily without payin' did ye now, luv?" the hawk sneered as he swept her with a lusty gaze. Slowly Aubri pushed herself upright—she felt lethargic, her limbs too heavy to do her bidding. Abruptly they pounced, knocking her flat onto the grimy cobblestones. The hawk clawed at her throat, tearing at her cloak, and grabbed the bejewelled broach. The bull fell upon her, his 188

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weight pressing her into the stinking rubbish. Desperately she tried to heave him off her, but her arms were pinned to her sides, her legs caught in the tangle of her petticoats. She gasped for breath under his crushing weight. "Them swells is all a bunch o' pussies. W'at until ye've had a real man betwixt yer legs," the bull remarked, and crudely thrust his bulging arousal against her mons. She whimpered and pushed against his chest as he ground his mouth against hers, his teeth tearing her bottom lip. She was trapped beneath his filthy bulk, barely able to move. He hooked a beefy hand into her bodice and tore the gown to her waist, exposing her breasts and white silk corset. Aubri turned her head aside, unable to bear watching the bull paw her flesh with his ragged nails. The hawk was watching the assault, rubbing his bulging crotch with his hand—waiting for his turn. No! She couldn't allow these men to defile her. She renewed her struggles, and they laughed. She was trapped beneath the bull's bulk. He tangled a fist in her hair and pulled until tears sprang to her eyes. He reached for the hem of her skirt. She was done for. **** Alexande flew into the dark alley, his sword at the ready. Instinct guided him, and rage consumed him as he spotted a bull of a man crushing a woman in muslin and satin, while a thin, lanky man with a hawk-like face watched excitedly. 189

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One thing Alex could not stand was brutality done to anyone, including women. His sword glimmered in the gloom as he raced to intervene—then he saw her honey-gold hair, her scarlet cloak. Aubriana!? Enraged he attacked the hawk, his sword slicing across the man's chest, the laceration oozing blood. The brute howled in pain and attacked, but Alex hurtled him against the rough brick wall. His head hit with a meaty thunk, and he slid to the ground in a stupor. The bull glanced up at his companion's cry, his eyes widened in shock as the razor tip of Alex's sword pressed against his throat. "Get off her, now!" Alexande hissed, barely controlling the bloodlust rushing through his veins. Slowly the bull heaved himself off Aubri and towered over Alex. "Take pleasure in terrorizing women do you?" Alexande demanded, eager for an excuse to slice the bastard to ribbons. The brute froze, his eyes filled with panic. His gaze darted behind Alex and suddenly he relaxed. "Oh, aye. There ain't nothin like the sweet puss o' a liedy," he taunted, curling his hands into ham-like fists. The hairs rose on the back of Alex's neck. Whirling around, he sliced open the hawk's throat—his blood splattering a grimy wall. The hawk's dagger fell to the ground as he slapped both hands to his throat, his eyes wide with horror. 190

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The bull roared and charged Alexande, his huge fists swinging. Alex ducked and swung his sword up, piercing the brute's chest. The bull gasped and stumbled back, the blade wrenched from his torso. Blood seeped from the wound, soaking into his soot covered clothes. "I'll kill ye, bastard!" the bull shouted. He narrowed his eyes, his nostrils flaring. He charged, desperate to take down his enemy. Alexande sidestepped his clumsy attempt. The bull slammed into the wall and fell to the ground with a shuddering thud—he did not move again. Alex's chest heaved, bloodlust soaring through his veins as he stared at the two felled ruffians. They were dead, or soon would be—yet every fiber of his being yearned for them to rise again, so he could cut them down. He could kill them a thousand times and it would not satisfy the rage flowing through him. His eyes narrowed as he caught a glimpse of something glittering in the rubbish—it was the broach he'd gifted Aubri that morning...he rescued it. Aubriana! A soft rustle of muslin and satin recalled him from his fury. He rushed to her side and fell to his knees. Remorse flooded his heart as he gazed upon her. Blood welled from her torn lip and trickled down her chin. Her gown was rent, exposing her breasts—her ivory skin marred by red claw marks. His gaze swept down her body— 191

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thank the gods he'd arrived in time—her skirts were still tangled about her legs. Alex gathered her in his arms and gently cradled her against his chest. "Alexande" she cried, seeming to come to her senses. She flung her arms around his neck, and burying her face against his chest, began to sob. "Hush," he whispered. "'Tis all right now, the brutes are dead. They shall not harm you again." She trembled like a leaf. He tightened his arms around her and berated himself. How could he have let this happen? She didn't understand the dangers of the city. He should have never left her unprotected. It was a while before her sobs finally subsided. Gently he cupped her chin and tilted her head back until she met his gaze. "We cannot stay here. It's not safe," he said softly, not wanting to alarm her. She trembled at his words. "Do not worry, no other shall harm you as long as I am with you. We must go to the Cobbler, for I do not think I should carry you all the way to the carriage, it would cause too much of a stir. Are you ready?" he asked gently. Her arms tightened around his neck, but she nodded. He forced himself to smile down at her and ease her tension. "Good." He gathered the tattered remains of her cardinal and froze at the sight of her exposed breasts. Fury ignited, racing through his veins once more. If those bastards had taken what was rightfully his, Alex would have delivered an agonizing death. 192

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Gently he collected the torn muslin of her bodice and pinned it together with the broach and his jeweled cravat pin. Once he was certain it would hold, he wrapped her in the scarlet cloak and pulled up her hood. He shifted her in his arms and stood. Alex retrieved his sword and wiped the blood off the nearest body before slamming it back into the scabbard. He held her close as he stalked from the alley. **** Alexande climbed into the carriage and settled on the soft seat, adjusting his precious burden. She hadn't said a word since the incident in the alley and he was extremely worried. She watched him with wide, soulful eyes. It tore at his heart to see her fear, to feel her quake in his arms. He was at a loss on how to ease her dread. "I am so sorry," he murmured, expressing his deep regret. "You must know I had not wanted our day to end like this." She nodded as a single tear silently slid down her cheek. He curled a hand in frustration. He was not one to fall to his knees at the sight of a woman's sobs. But Aubriana's pain was real, and it twisted at his vitals to see her like this. He held her close. If only there is a way to heal her grief and erase this terrible moment... Alex stilled. In the aftermath, he'd nearly forgotten... Gently he extracted her from his arms and set Aubri on the seat beside him. "Love, there's something I have forgotten. 'Tis right outside. Will you be all right if I get it?" 193

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Her lovely eyes were filled with anxiety, yet she bravely nodded. "There's a good girl," he said gently. He brushed the back of his hand against her wet cheek. "I will be back in but a moment." He bounded out of the carriage and closed the door behind him. **** She was so cold. Aubriana quaked as she stared at the carriage door...surely he wouldn't leave her after saving her life? It seemed an eternity passed before the portal opened and he stepped inside, sliding onto the seat next to her. He gathered her into his arms again, and Aubri immediately felt better. "See, I was gone but a moment," he said with a smile. He placed a basket onto her lap. She glanced down at it. A ball of dark fur was curled against a bedding of white rabbit fur. Aubri was puzzled. "I had planned to give this to you under better circumstances, but perhaps it will have more meaning now," he said quietly. She ran a tentative finger through the mottled black and tan fur, and gasped when it gave a pitiful mewl. "Oh, it's a kitten," Aubri cried in surprise. 194

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She reached inside and rescued the poor creature. It was very dark, with barely visible orange stripes running back from its cheeks. It had the most remarkable cream-colored face, with salt and pepper markings around its huge eyes, and nose. Surprisingly, it had no tail. "Where did you get it?" she asked. "A young girl was selling the litter. She told me it's from the Isle of Man." Huge blue cat eyes stared into her own. The kitten mewled and shook, its cries of distress becoming louder and louder— its tiny claws were splayed wide. "Poor little thing," she cooed. "It was taken from its mother far too soon." "Really?" Alexande sounded surprised. "Will it be okay?" Aubri smiled tenderly as she rubbed her face against its soft fur. "Yes." She parted her cloak and laid the tiny animal on her chest, next to her heart. Immediately the kitten quieted and curled into a ball. It purred loudly in contentment. She gazed at the helpless creature and her chest tightened. A tear slid down her cheek. The marquis brushed it away with the pad of his thumb, startling her. She looked up to find him watching her with something akin to tenderness. Her heart warmed. He seemed just as befuddled by his tender display as she. "It was not my intention to make you cry," he murmured, clearly disconcerted. 195

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She smiled. "I am not crying out of fear, but joy," she replied softly. Without a word, she wrapped her arm around his neck, and pressed a kiss to his mouth. **** It was probably the most chaste and innocent kiss Alex had ever experienced, yet something about it tugged at his heart. He stared at his mistress, more than a little alarmed by the warm sentiment spreading through him. "Thank you," she said softly. "I shall treasure her, always." An unnamed emotion swirled in his chest—but he was determined to ignore it. "What shall you name her?" he asked, desperate to distract her. She glanced down at the sleeping kitten. "I don't know." Alex thought for a moment. "How about Chaton?" She frowned. "What does it mean?" "Kitten. Don't you speak French?" "Un peu." Alex smiled. "A little," he translated. "We will have to remedy that. Tomorrow I will find a tutor to teach you French, and the minuet. Would you like that?" Yes, it was the perfect way to keep her occupied during the day while he concentrated on his mission. Why hadn't he thought of it earlier? Aubriana's smile turned shy, yet her eyes sparkled with excitement. "If you like." 196

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"Good, it is settled then. But what do you think of the name Chaton?" "I like it," she said softly. The warmth in her eyes made his heart beat all the faster. Suddenly she snuggled against his chest and rested her head on his shoulder—as innocent as the kitten. The nameless emotion swelled as he held her. The driver's door popped open. "Where to, milord?" the coachman queried. "Home," the marquis answered. The hatch swung closed and a moment later the carriage lurched into motion. Alex stared out the window and listened to the rumble of the wheels and the purr of the kitten. And with the sweet breath of his mistress brushing his neck, he'd never felt more confused or content or annoyed in his life. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Seventeen **** Aubri was never more happy to see Bournemouth Hall then when the carriage rolled to a halt before its great doors. She'd slept through most of the return journey in Alexande's arms. Miraculously the kitten had eased her terror, until it was nothing more than a vague, dark memory. Though stiff and sore, she trudged up the endless flights of stairs until she finally reached her apartments. She wanted nothing more than to soak in a hot bath before taking an afternoon nap. She stumbled into her bedroom and paused. Molly was dumping a pail of water into the steaming tub. Overwhelmed by the welcomed sight of the bath, Aubri burst into tears. Molly dropped the bucket and rushed to her side. "Dove, whatever is the matter?" she asked worriedly as she removed Aubriana's cloak. She gasped when she spotted Aubri's torn and dirtied gown. "Did his lordship do this to ye?" "No," Aubri replied with a firm shake of her head. "Two men attacked me in Poole. The marquis saved my life." Taking her hand, Molly led her to the bed and sat down beside her. "Dove, ye must tell me everythin' that happened." With her cheeks burning with embarrassment, Aubri related the attack, omitting nothing.

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Molly was shocked by her story. "That has to be the most fantastic tale I've ever heard. Where's the kitten, ye must show me." Aubri smiled as she unhooked the basket from her arm and lifted the lid. Molly peered inside and cooed. "Ain't she the cutest thing ye ever seen. I ain't never heard a man giftin' a kitten afore." Aubriana laughed. "I think Lord Ravenspur was almost as surprised in giving me the kitten as I was receiving it." Molly stood up and carefully laid the basket aside. "Come, dove, let's get ye out of those clothes and into the bath. Ye certainly deserve it after the tryin' day ye've had." In a matter of moments, Aubri was naked and sliding into the steaming tub. She sighed in contentment as she was immediately enveloped in the soothing heat. "I'll just take these to the laundry," Molly stated as she gathered Aubri's gown and unmentionables. "Ye just relax, and I'll come back with some tea for ye and some milk for the wee kitten." Aubri nodded as she closed her eyes and slid deeper into the bath. She didn't even bother to open her eyes when a knock sounded on the sitting room door. Molly uttered something under her breath as she bustled through the chamber. A moment later, she came rushing back in. "Aubri, that was Wiggins. He says ye have a guest waitin' for ye—yer brother." Aubriana's eyes snapped open. Bram was here? Now? She gripped the tub's rim and fought her rising panic. "Molly, what am I going to do?" 199

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"Why? What's the matter?" "He doesn't know I'm Ravenspur's mistress. He still thinks I'm an upper maid." "So?" Molly questioned. "So, if he finds out, he'll call out the marquis!" Aubri replied. Molly snorted. "I don't believe yer brother could be such a loggerhead." Aubri shook her head. "You don't know Bram. He almost called out Lord Ravenspur before, the first time they met. Bram would be furious if he learned the truth." "All right, don't ye worry about it," Molly assured as she rolled up her sleeves. "We'll get ye all cleaned up and lookin' proper for a maid." Aubri inhaled a deep breath, desperate to still the rapid beating of her heart. She nervously smoothed a hand down her skirts. Unable to find her old uniforms, Aubri had settled for the plainest of the day dresses Alexande had gifted her. With the addition of an apron, and a plain linen cap, she hoped it was enough to fool Bram. She pushed open the doors and stepped into the plain sitting room off the servants' hall. Her brother stood with his back to her and stared out a small window overlooking the long drive and vast green lawn dotted with trees. His hands were clasped behind his back, his feet spread wide as though he was standing onboard a ship. The slanting rays of the sun made his fallow hair a fiery gold. He looked much too hard and serious for so young a man. 200

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She enfolded her hands to hide their trembling and walked deeper into the room. Bram spun around, and a smile wreathed his lips as he crossed the parlor in four long strides. "Aubri!" he shouted as he wrapped her in a bear hug and lifted her off her feet. He twirled her around and around until she felt dizzy and light-headed. "Bram!" she scolded half-heartedly, and laughed despite herself. "It's only been a few weeks." He slid her onto her feet and grinned, his eyes sparkling mischievously. For a moment, Aubri glimpsed the boy who loved tormenting his younger siblings—namely scaring the bloody wits out of them at every opportunity. But as of late, he'd become too serious by far. Aubri plastered a smile on her face and held her breath as he scrutinized her from head to toe. "Where the bloody hell have you been?" he demanded. Aubri blinked, taken aback. "Been? What do you mean?" Bram's eyes narrowed. "This is the third time I have visited today, waiting to have a word with you. And twice that grey haired bastion has sent me away. I cannot believe Lord Ravenspur runs you so ragged you have no time to speak with your own brother. If that is the case then you are leaving with me this instant!" he said with brotherly indignation. Alarmed, she replied, "No, of course he does not run me ragged." She inhaled a deep breath, and continued. "Bram, there's something I—" "What happened to your lip? Did someone hit you?" His brow slanted in anger as he stared at her face. 201

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Aubri's heart leapt into her throat. "No...no, of course not," she stammered, desperate for a plausible explanation. "I...I lost my balance today while I was dusting one of the mantles and hit my mouth on the edge of the fireplace. I was lucky I didn't break a tooth. I was quite embarrassed I can tell you." She held her breath, praying he would believe it. He said nothing as his gaze shifted lower. "I've never seen that dress before, where did you get it?" he questioned. Exasperated, Aubriana reached out and gripped his arm. "Bram please. There is something of great import I must speak to you about." "Are you being mistreated? Shall I have to call out the marquis?" Her brother was incensed, his quick temper rising to the fore. Aubri loved her brother dearly, she truly did, but there were times, like this, when he made her want to scream! "No, no! Bram, listen to me. There is nothing going on. His lordship treats me perfectly well. 'Tis just something I must tell you. It is of great importance." Couldn't he hear the desperation in her voice? Gently, Bram clutched her shoulders and looked her in the eyes. "Aubri, I want you to tell me the truth. How did you get that dress? It's too fine for the likes of us." Aubri stared at him flabbergasted. Here she was trying to tell him something that could very well save his life and all he cared about was her stupid dress? "I gifted it to her," a deep masculine voice replied. They both froze. 202

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She watched as all the warmth and concern bled from her brother's face. His expression turned hard as he glared. Aubriana turned around and found Lord Ravenspur casually leaning against the door, his arms folded over his chest. He'd changed too, and looked as if he'd just returned from riding. She moved away from her brother. How much had the marquis heard of their conversation? The marquis' eyes darted over her simple attire and arched a brow in question. She sent him a pleading look. She could not begin to guess how her brother would react if he learned the truth. He watched her for a moment, before nodding subtly. She felt a rush of relief—he would play along. He pushed away from the door, a predatory smile touching his lips—his gaze cool, assessing. "What the bloody hell are you doing here?" her brother demanded. Aubri spun around, horrified by Bram's belligerence— deliberate no doubt. "Bram! This is his lordship, Lord Ravenspur, the marquis, the master of the house," she stressed. She turned toward Alexande. "My lord, as you may remember this is my brother, Master Bram Welbery. Please forgive him, he's too used to working with sailors to mind his manners." She hoped Bram was blushing to the roots of his hair for his bad decorum. "Why would you buy such a gown for my sister, my lord?" Bram interrogated. 203

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Aubri groaned silently and wished she could evaporate into thin air. Once her brother got an idea into his head, he was like a dog with a bone—he never gave it up. "Would you care to sit down, Mr. Welbery?" Lord Ravenspur smoothly countered, and gestured to a pair of chairs set before the hearth. He settled into one and stretched out his long legs, crossing them at the ankle. Bram hesitated for a moment before taking his seat, and perched on the edge—his body tense, his eyes narrowed as he watched the marquis. Alexande shrugged. "Your sister has proven invaluable to me, and I thought to gift her with a gown or two." "After a month?" Bram looked at him with distrust. Aubri huffed. There was no need to be insulting. The marquis' eyes narrowed. "Apparently you underestimate your sister's value. I have found her services irreplaceable." Aubri blushed. If her brother knew precisely what those services were, he'd have a fit. Thankfully, Bram took Alexande's words to heart and seemed to relax. "'Tis glad I am to hear it. But don't let her get too big for her stays, she can be a trial sometimes." Aubri gasped. How dare he! But Lord Ravenspur chuckled. "Aren't they all, Mr. Welbery?" "You have some siblings of your own do you, my lord?" "Oh aye. My sister, Elizabeth, is sweet, but she can be a downright spoiled brat when she doesn't get her way. And don't get me started on my brother, Deavon." 204

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Bram rolled his eyes as he leaned back in the chair, seeming to warm up to the subject. "Only two my lord? You're lucky. I have three sisters and a little brother. And let me tell you, they can be insufferable at times." Aubri narrowed her gaze on Bram. Talk about insufferable...Ha! If only he knew. She watched as the two men bantered back and forth, complaining on how they suffered so as older brothers. She glanced at the marquis and caught a brief look in his eyes as he met her gaze. Suddenly she realized he was deliberately throwing her brother off track to ease his suspicions. She relaxed, and tried not to let it bother her. A short time later, a footman opened the doors to admit a grey haired woman carrying the tea service. Aubri stiffened when she recognized the housekeeper. Mrs. Fulthrop stopped short when she espied Aubri, her ice blue eyes narrowing shrewdly. She set the silver tray on a nearby table and went about preparing the tea. "'Tis glad I am to see his lordship has put you back in your place," she hissed. "I knew you would not last long. A scheming light skirt like yourself could never hold the attentions of a marquis." Aubri gasped. The audacity of the woman! Yet the hateful comment sent a lance of pain straight into her heart. Would Alexande toss her aside so quickly? He was an admitted rake after all. Mayhap he was one of those men her brother had warned her about, who cared only for the chase. And once he got what he wanted, he would move on to the next conquest. Her heart plummeted to her 205

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feet, and something painful twisted inside her chest. Valiantly she tried to hide her distress from the housekeeper, but there was no mistaking the triumph in Mrs. Fulthrop's sneer or the flare of her nostrils. She knew her barb had hit the mark. "That will be all, Mrs. Fulthrop, Aubriana can handle the rest," Lord Ravenspur announced. The older woman pursed her lips and stiffly curtsied. "As you wish, my lord," she returned, barely containing her contempt. She turned round and stalked from the room, her nose held high, her back ramrod straight. Aubri was never so glad to see her leave. Thankfully, Bram was blissfully unaware and continued on with the conversation as if there hadn't been an interruption. Awash with relief, she went about serving the marquis and her brother. But she couldn't seem to dismiss Mrs. Fulthrop's hateful words—a seed of doubt now planted. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Eighteen **** Aubriana stood before the tall oak-framed mirror, her heart fluttering with anxiety. A warm fire crackled in the hearth, and burning beeswax candles lent a musky sweetness to the room. Soft shadows and golden light filled her bed chamber, the air tingling with an aura of seduction. With her hair tumbling down her back and shoulders, a lavender satin robe hugging her figure—barely concealing the wispy muslin night rail beneath—she was ready for the marquis. Tonight he would take her most precious commodity, her virtue. Aubri closed her eyes and curled her fingers, desperate to still their trembling. Panic seized her. She'd bargained away her maidenhead to a rogue, a man who used women to fulfill his own wicked pleasures. And once he was done with her, no doubt he would toss her aside like so much rubbish before going on to the next conquest, the next lover to pique his interest. But how else could she continue to spy on Lord Ravenspur? How else could she keep her brother alive? As Ravenspur's mistress, she had full run of the house, could go anywhere, do as she pleased, and no one would gainsay her. It made it that much easier to slip into the study 207

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to read the marquis's secret papers and report back to the sheriff. Aubri inhaled a deep, calming breath. If she managed to keep her brother from the gallows, then her sacrifice would be well worth it. Besides, her reasons were not entirely selfless...as Molly had pointed out, he was the most attractive man Aubri had ever known. She opened her eyes and gasped. Lord Ravenspur stood behind her. His gaze smoldered in the mirror. The deep V of his black velvet robe exposed the dark matting of fur on his chest. His raven hair curled loosely about his shoulders. Dark stubble shadowed his firm jaw. He looked deliciously wild and feral...and dangerous. He is dangerous, she reminded herself, in so many ways. She wasn't sure how to cope with it. And if he ever discovered the truth...a shiver rippled down her spine—she was playing with fire and one way or another she was going to get burnt. "Are you nervous?" he asked softly as he gently squeezed her shoulders. Her pulse accelerated. "I...I don't know," she replied, breathless. "Don't be," he murmured as he swept her hair to one side. "I will never harm you. Trust me." He pressed a kiss to her nape, and her woman's core pulsed. "But I must warn you though, you will experience some pain when I take your maidenhead. Do you still want to go through with this?" His voice was low and husky. Aubri swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. She trembled, but from yearning, not fear. She had no choice now, she was 208

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in too deep. She needed him to touch her, to show her all the pleasures of the flesh. "Yes," she hissed. A devil's smile curved his lips and her insides melted. He was so incredibly handsome, he bedazzled her senses. "Your wish is my command." He brushed a kiss across her neck before pulling her against him. A thrill shot straight to her loins as she felt the hot press of his erection against her back. "Everything you desire shall be mine to give," he whispered, before nibbling on the sensitive shell of her ear. Alexande was on fire. His engorged cock ached, his heart thundered, his blood pounded, and his body tensed with anticipation. Tonight he would make love to her. He pulled on the ties of his robe and let the black velvet slither down his naked body, pooling at his feet. He was shocked by the power of his passion. He'd never wanted a woman like this—he was inflamed with lust. He hungered to touch, to devour every inch of her creamy skin, her luscious curves. A primal thrill filled him with the knowledge he would be her first lover, the one to take her virtue. He felt like a conquering warrior about to claim the spoils of war. And yet...he wanted to lavish her with pleasure, to make her moan and writhe and beg for more until they both hurtled over the pinnacle of paradise. He wanted her, skin to heated skin. Alex slid his hands around her tiny waist and tugged on the bow until her robe fell open. He pushed the lavender satin over her shoulders until it slid to her feet. 209

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His breath stilled. She was a most tantalizing sight—the translucent muslin clinging to her curves, teasing him with a glimpse of her hardened nipples and the soft golden curls crowning her thighs. He hungered with the need to taste her. Slowly he gathered her nightgown, dragging it up her body as he revealed her flesh inch by silken inch. He drew it over her head and tossed it aside. Alexande slid his hands down her arms and bit back a groan. He licked and kissed her shoulder before playfully biting her skin. He had to fight the sudden urge to take her from behind, to thrust his painfully throbbing flesh into her moist sex. I must go slow. She was a virgin after all, on the brink of discovering a world of sensual delights, and he wasn't about to spoil it, not even for his own gratification. He swirled his tongue against his bite mark and she gasped. Slowly he kissed his way down her delectable nape, her sensitive spine, till he reached the small of her back. Aubri's eyes widened when he kissed her buttocks. She never knew a man could be so wicked, would do something so forbidden. He nipped and licked—she groaned as liquid fire imploded between her thighs. Gazing into the reflection, she saw him rise behind her and circle until he blocked the mirror. She peered into his face and shuddered. His passion-darkened eyes smoldered with desire, leaving her with little doubt he would fulfill his promise this night. 210

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Boldly, her gaze wandered down his body, and her knees nearly turned to jelly at the sight of him. He was magnificent. A lethal, graceful, powerful alpha male. Her fingers itched to roam over the broad expanse of his chest. Her breasts ached to rub against the rough matting of hair. She followed the thin line of fur as it ran down his rippling torso and exploded into a dark nest of curls between his legs. His erection jutted toward her, the crimson head pulsed. And as she watched, a bead of clear liquid welled at the tip. Never had an innocent so yearned to be ruined. "Do you like what you see, my sweet?" Aubri's gaze darted to his, and her cheeks flamed. His eyes danced with amusement as his smile turned downright wicked. "You are so sweet." He wrapped his arms around her and pressed her skin to skin. Her breasts mashed against his chest, his chest hair teasing her aching nipples, his cock throbbed against her belly, and the heat of his skin burned her. He captured her mouth in a slow, languid kiss, and ignited her desires. Aubri opened her mouth on a sigh and he consumed her. Their tongues tangled as he licked and teased and stroked. She circled her arms around his neck, and clung for dear life—she was drowning in a sea of passion and she didn't care. She only wanted more. Alex growled as he tasted her sweet lips. She tasted of wine and hot desire and he hungered for more, hungered for all of her. He was as randy as a wolf in mating season, and it took every ounce of his willpower to control his primal lust. 211

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He was determined to savor every delicious inch of her, to awaken her to his sinful world of passion and pleasure. He cupped her face and gentled their wild kiss to a mere brushing of lips. He kissed her eyelids, her cheeks and chin, before nuzzling the sensitive spot behind her ear. He skimmed lower, trailing fiery kisses down the slender column of her throat. He nipped her shoulder before kissing his way to her glorious breasts. Hungry for a taste of her delectable flesh, he slid to his knees. Sliding his hands to her hips, he held her as he licked and teased a soft alabaster mound. Aubri moaned and closed her eyes as he devoured her breast. Her fingers dug into the taut flesh of his shoulders. She squeezed her thighs as hot need burst in her core, and cream seeped between her nether lips. He pulled a hard nipple into his mouth and greedily suckled. She gasped and arched her back as ecstasy rushed up and down her body. Struggling to contain the lust roiling through her veins, she bit her bottom lip—desperate not to beg for the relief she craved. Alexande inhaled the sweet, musky scent of her arousal. She had to be aching with need, but she was too innocent, too inexperienced and shy to demand or plead for her pleasure. One day soon he would teach her boldness, to take what she wanted. He released her nipple and grazed his lips down her soft belly. He swirled his tongue in her navel and she moaned. "Watch the mirror, my pet," he murmured, before raining kisses up her inner thigh. 212

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Aubri dragged her eyes open and gazed at the reflection. It was the most erotic sight she'd ever witnessed—he knelt before her, his dark head nestled at her woman's core. "Open for me, love," he commanded softly. Fascinated, she watched as she parted her legs and he pressed his mouth against her cleft. Alex stared at her sweet cunny. Her nether lips, open and engorged, glistened with her juices. His cock jumped and the blood pumped harder through his veins. He pressed a kiss to her cleft before slipping his tongue inside to lick and tease. She moaned as he slid through the slippery petals and lapped at the hot cream drenching her sheath. Her hands clutched his hair roughly as he continued to torment her. Her groans ignited the passion already flowing into his aching erection. He found her hardened clit and teased it with the tip of his tongue until she pressed her mons hard against his mouth. "Alex, please," she begged. Alexande knew exactly what she craved. He wrapped his lips around her nub and sucked, hard. Sliding a hand up her thigh, he thrust a finger deep into her honeyed quim. She clung to his finger as he pumped it in and out, his languid strokes turning hard and fast. Aubriana moaned his name. Gods, yes, this was what she so desperately yearned. The pressure built higher and higher as the tempest of pleasure gathered force. She clutched his hair harder, pressing him closer, as her knees threatened to fold beneath her. She writhed against his mouth, in the grips of mindless pleasure. "Come for me," he demanded. 213

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Aubri's eyes snapped open as his words sent her soaring over the edge. The storm erupted, hurtling her into a maelstrom of fiery pleasure. She screamed as her sex convulsed, her hot juices gushing from her core, and she was consumed by the might of her orgasm. "Alex!" Alexande held her as he greedily licked at the cream drenching her soft, delicate folds. She was so passionate, her climax so intense, he nearly came at her shout of pleasure. He felt her knees buckle, but he held her upright. He rose to his feet until he towered over her. She leaned against him, and gazed into his eyes. "Is there more?" she asked breathlessly. Alex chuckled before flashing her a wicked smile. "Oh yes, much more, my sweet." He captured her mouth and kissed her hungrily. His body was on fire, his arousal throbbed. He ached with the need to bury his flesh deep inside her, to ravish her. He lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed. Gently he laid her on the satin counterpane, before slipping down beside her. Brushing a stray tendril from her cheek, he leaned forward and kissed her. He slipped his tongue inside and devoured her. Gods how his cock ached! He was desperate to be inside her delectable body. Alex kneaded her breast and tweaked her hard nipple until she gasped. He thrust his tongue in and out of her sweet mouth, mimicking the lust roaring through his veins. Gliding his hand down her torso, he slipped between her thighs and 214

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ran a finger along her moist cleft. Her legs fell open and Alexande slid his finger between her slick nether lips. She was scalding hot, and so wet with desire, he groaned into her mouth. "I want you to lose yourself to the pleasure, Aubri," he murmured against her lips. "Become one with your passion." Aubri moaned. She wanted more, wanted him inside her. She bucked her hips into each thrust of his finger. She was mindless with desire. She pulled him closer until his chest crushed her breasts and her kiss became frantic. She need him inside her, now. Alexande could barely think for the passion pounding through his body, from his head to the soles of his feet. His desire to possess her was no longer deniable. He slid over her body, his hips nestled between her thighs, and rubbed the head of his cock against her slick folds. "Alexande, please take me," she cried against his mouth. Unable to hold himself back any longer, he slowly pushed his erection inside her—her sheath stretching to accommodate his rigid length. He paused when he reached her barrier. Gripping her silken hair, he kissed her and thrust to the hilt. She cried out as he rendered her maidenhead in two. Alex froze, anguish clutching his heart—he'd never taken an innocent before. Tears trickled from the corner of her eyes as she stared at him. Tenderly, he brushed them away with the back of his fingers. "I'm sorry, ma petite," he murmured apologetically. "Do you still wish to continue?" 215

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Aubri swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded. "That's my girl," he replied warmly, "I promise it will only get better after this." He kissed her softly, gently. Then he began to move. Aubriana's eyes widened as he plunged inside her, the pain replaced by burgeoning pleasure. Passion rushed through her veins as she countered each thrust. Alexande drove his throbbing cock deeper into her sex. She was so wet, so hot and tight, he was on the verge of erupting. Pleasure rushed through his body with each stroke, driving him closer to the pinnacle of ecstasy. "Wrap your legs around me, love," he said raggedly. She moaned and locked her legs around his hips, pulling him in deeper. Her hips arched into him, meeting each ramming thrust. Alex abandoned her lips and pressed hot kisses down her neck. Latching onto a hardened areola, he suckled her nipple as he pumped his cock harder, faster, deeper into her sucking wet heat. Her moans and gasps drove him as her beautiful body moved beneath him. Gods how he needed to come...but not without her. Alexande wedged a hand between their bodies and combed through her moist curls. He found her clit, hard and pulsating, and rubbed. Aubri clutched his hair and wrapped her legs tighter around his hips. Yes! The passion burned through her veins like a raging bonfire. She was almost there... She screamed, tossing her head from side to side as her body stiffened and arched into 216

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his hard thrusts. She erupted in orgasmic bliss as wave after wave of unadulterated joy washed over her. Alex pounded his shaft hard and fast, until he was hilt deep with every stroke. She screamed his name as she turned rigid beneath him, her sex clutching his cock. He drove into her and exploded, her sheath milking him of his essence as he shouted her name. His seed bathed her womb as he drove into her over and over again, his body flooded with a tide of rapture. Alexande had never felt more sated. His heart thundered, his harsh breath filled his ears as he lay cushioned by Aubri's sweet body. In the twenty years he'd been pleasuring women, he'd never had a more explosive orgasm. He felt completely drained of energy as if every last drop had erupted inside her hot, slick folds. Slowly he lifted his head to look down at her. A smile flirted with her lush lips—swollen from their ravening kisses. She glowed from the glory of their passion. Never had a woman ever given herself so completely as his sweet mistress. And she, a virgin! A strange possessive feeling squeezed his heart—he was the first man to initiate her into the pleasure of the flesh. He wrapped his arms around her, and held her closer. She was his. And she was so utterly beautiful, so wanton and wild, his breath stilled. He brushed her mouth tenderly with his lips and she wiggled her hips—his slumbering shaft hardening for another round. 217

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"Is there more?" she asked innocently, her eyes fluttering open. "Ah, my temptress," he said softly, "there is indeed much more. But not tonight." Her smile fell in disappointment and she pouted. Alex chuckled. "My love, do not pout, for you are too sore to make love again." She looked at him thoughtfully and wiggled her hips— driving him crazy. "I don't feel sore," she said earnestly. Despite himself, he grinned. Already she was learning to use her wiles to get what she wanted. He kissed her hungrily for a moment, desperately wishing he could fulfill both of their desires. "You may not feel sore now, my pet, but come morning you will indeed be tender between those pretty thighs of yours." He slid from her body, and rose from the bed. Pouring warm water into a basin, he soaked a clean cloth and walked back to the bed. "Open your thighs." Her legs fell open and he cleaned her cleft, gently washing away the blood and semen from her milky skin before attending his semi-arousal. He tossed the cloth onto the table before sliding onto the bed behind her. Taking up the sheets, he wrapped them both in a cozy cocoon of satin. "What are you doing?" She sounded sleepy. "I need sleep, and so do you, my vixen. So close your eyes," he murmured into her hair. Pressing his body to hers, he relaxed. A wave of contentment washed over him. "Does it always feel this wonderful?" She queried softly. 218

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His arms tightened around her as a strange tenderness filled his chest. But Alex remained silent as he stared thoughtfully into the darkness. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Nineteen **** "The contraband should fetch us a right pretty penny, it should," Willy Seamus commented as he idly watched the steady stream of men climbing up and down the cliffs, carrying barrels of spirits and crates of fine cloth. Surprisingly, Mr. Black had been as good as his word. The ship—The Sea Hawk—had arrived precisely at midnight in the hidden cove. And unlike the Frenchies, the captain, and even his crew, had been downright helpful. "Do you think your man will give us a fair price?" Mr. Black queried. "Ridout? Oh, aye! 'E's been doin' this for over twenty years now. Them Londoners swallow the stuff up before it even hits the market." Willy laughed. "If Mr. Ridout is as connected as you say, we just might have a deal, you and I." Willy turned his attention to the swell. Even with the light from a nearby lamp, he could barely make out Mr. Black's features. The bloke was tall, and impeccably dressed—in black. Either the man had a penchant for the color or he was extremely cautious. Considering his tricorn was pulled low to shadow his eyes, Willy guessed it was the latter. "Are ye sayin' ye 'ave more ships?" Willy questioned. Mr. Black flashed a wolfish smile, his white teeth glowing in the dark. "Indeed. And all of them filled with fine cargo." 220

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"Mayhap ye 'ave yerself a deal then." Willy grinned. He was always for extra blunt lining his pockets. They lapsed into silence and Willy watched as the boats rowed to and from the ship. "There is one problem though," Mr. Black said after a moment. The hairs rose on the back of Willy's neck in warning and he frowned. "W'at would that be?" "It seems to be getting harder for English ships to dock at the French ports, even a merchant. I've heard Weymouth gets its share of French merchantmen. What do you say we form a partnership? I would finance the ships, and you and your men would unload and sell the cargo. I would, of course, give you fifty percent to split with your men." Willy hid his shock by rubbing his coarse beard. It was probably the best damn offer he'd ever gotten. He and his men usually had to split fifteen percent between them, not fifty. Considering they did all the hard labor, he'd always thought it unfair, but then one did not trifle with Espion. Willy had a feeling he didn't want to cross Mr. Black either. He didn't know how far he could trust Mr. Black, but he and his men were already getting fifty percent from this venture—he certainly hadn't expected such a generous portion from the bloke. He seemed upfront and fair as any gent can be—unlike Espion. That cull was downright chilly. He was too secretive by far with his explicit instructions for this chest or that crate. And Willy didn't like doing business with all them Frenchies—it made him uneasy. He may be a smuggler, but he and his 221

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men were red-blooded Englishmen. He was starting to have his suspicions about Espion. But if what Mr. Black said was true, then he might not have a choice in the matter. "Very well, ye got yerself a deal. But I must warn ye, I 'ave others who rely on me as well," Willy commented, watching the swell's reaction. Black shrugged, his expression indifferent. "As you wish. I have no desire to interfere with your other...business partners. However, I am interested in a French ship which I've been informed is to sail into port a sennight hence. Le Loup, I do believe it's called. The captain is said to be a very easygoing fellow. If you could but give me his name, and the day of the ship's arrival, I would be most appreciative." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small leather pouch. Willy eyed it uncertainly. Am I makin' a deal with the bleedin' devil? If Espion ever discovered Willy was giving away his connections to another, he'd be as dead as the poor bastard of a revenue officer—only Espion would make sure his body was never found. Willy took the pouch and weighed it in his hand. It clinked, heavy with coin. "Very well. How will I get the name and date to ye?" "My man will pay you a visit. And once he's received your message, there will be another reward waiting for you." Mr. Black paused, and the gleam in his eyes hardened. "I trust you will keep this to yourself."

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Willy met his gaze—it seemed this cull was just as dangerous as the other, but what could he do? Blunt was blunt. "Aye, ye can trust me," he replied gruffly. "Good." **** She stood, fidgeting with her gloves. When Molly had brought Aubri's morning chocolate, it had been accompanied with a note. Wear your new riding habit, my sweet, and await me in the great hall. R. Excitement fluttered in Aubriana's chest. She hadn't ridden for nearly a month, not since Alexande had let her ride Blitzen just before he'd made her his mistress. Riding was another one of those things she dearly missed...her family the other. That was not to say she didn't enjoy her time with Alex. On the contrary, it was the most thrilling and wicked experience she'd ever had in her life. He was the consummate lover—generous, kind, passionate, and erotic to a fault. They'd made love in nearly every room in the West wing and were beginning their sojourn in the East wing. He showered her with gifts—jewels, flowers, and gowns. Her chambers were nigh to bursting with his generosity. True to his word, Alexande had even hired tutors to teach her French, Classic Literature, dance, and etiquette, as though he was readying her for presentation at court. She 223

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found it all fascinating, and couldn't help but envy all those highborn ladies of quality. But much to her astonishment, Alex had gifted her an elegant but lethal dagger to keep in between her stays and her chemise—at all times. He had even taken it upon himself to teach her how to defend and attack with the weapon. He'd told her he had been worried over her safety since the assault in Poole. Aubri wasn't sure how good a student she was, but at least she'd been able to grasp some of the fundamentals. And she continued to spy. Aubri was starting to hold back information for she'd discovered some disturbing facts—Hodgeson was far more corrupt than she'd first thought—if Alex's reports were credible. And someone was smuggling contraband to the French. Who and what was never mentioned in the marquis's reports. In fact, some of the correspondence between Alexande and the Prime Minister seemed rather...odd. They read like letters one would send to a friend, talking about the weather and local events. Aubri had begun to wonder if it was some kind of code. But what was worse, Aubriana cared about Alex. She didn't know when it had begun, but something had been growing inside her, changing her perception of the man. It wasn't the gifts or the love making which had started it. But those gentle, quiet moments when they lay spent upon her bed and Alex would enfold her in his arms, she could see past the ruthless, charming rogue to the man beneath. It was the absent way he stroked her hair, or pulled her close so 224

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their bodies lay flush, or when he gazed at her with such tenderness...such yearning it made her heart flip in her chest. And there were other moments, like when they ate dinner or supper together. When they strolled through the garden in companionable silence, simply enjoying each other's company. Alex had even surprised her by having supper served in the garden. They'd eaten beneath the stars and in the silver glow of the moon. It had been magical. Aubri now understood something else about Alexande—he was lonely. She didn't know how she knew it, but she felt it deep inside herself. Maybe it was the way he spoke of his brother and sister, or the bitterness when he thought back on his parents. But for a very long time, Alex had been alone. He kept people at bay with his lethal charm and dangerous reputation. She only wished she understood the reason. She was also feeling guilty. Aubri was consumed by it. Every morning she fretted this would be the day Alex discovered her deceit. She couldn't stand lying to him, smiling at him, all the while sneaking behind his back, reading his secret documents and reporting anything of import to the sheriff. She felt brittle inside, like any moment she was going to break into a thousand shards. Her guilt had even invaded her dreams. Her stomach churned with it until she felt sickened deep in her soul, for Aubri had fallen for Alexande. It was the worst thing which could have possibly happened. "Are you ready, my pet?" A deep voice murmured in her ear. 225

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Aubri jumped and spun around. "Must you scare the bloody life out of me like that?" she demanded, miffed. Alexande's smoky gaze glittered mischievously. "Indeed I must," he replied, before enfolding her in his arms. He kissed her slowly, thoroughly. With every slide of his tongue, heat burst low in her belly and spread through her body in undulating waves. The slightest touch, the simplest kiss, and Aubri was nearly undone by the fierce desire coursing through her veins—all for him. Aubri broke their kiss. She pulled back and inhaled a lung full of air. Though the entire household was fully aware she'd become the marquis's mistress, some were very displeased. Mrs. Fulthrop was one, and Becky was the other. Aubriana felt uneasy with their affection so publicly displayed. "Alex, please don't kiss me like that here. What if someone sees us?" He flashed her a roguish smile, and her breath caught— just as it always did. "I don't give a damn about the servants. But if it makes you uncomfortable, I'll wait until we have more privacy." "Thank you," she sighed. "Now come, I have something I think will please you." **** Alexande rested his hand against her back as he guided her toward the stables. Excitement hummed in his veins, vibrated with his every step. He had a surprise for her, a magnificent surprise he was sure would produce squeals of delight. And he'd not bought it to ensure a passionate 226

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response from her in bed—there was no need to—but solely for her pleasure. It was strange how he spoiled her. It was not like him to shower a woman with gifts. But then Aubriana was not like other women of his acquaintance. So different from those jaded courtesans who demanded everything and gave nothing in return. She enjoyed their time together in bed. She gave as much pleasure as she took. And he enjoyed their time outside the bedroom, which was most certainly a first. But it was more than that. He liked her. If he was truly honest with himself, he would admit he more than liked her...much more. But Alex floundered in such emotional excess. So he blocked it from his mind. But there was no denying he was attracted, not only to Aubriana's beauty, but her innocence, her kindness, her gentleness, her defiant spirit, and her passionate nature. She was the most guileless woman he'd ever known. Being with her was like inhaling a breath of fresh air after having been confined in a dusty old house. She renewed his spirit. And despite the burden of the mission lying heavily upon his shoulders, she made him feel content and peaceful inside. Alex smiled as they neared the stables. His mount, Blitzen, was already saddled and waiting, just as he'd ordered. Without preamble, he guided Aubri toward a pretty dapple grey mare. "My dear, I would like to present to you a gift, your horse, Pippa." He dismissed the stable boy with a look as Aubriana slowly approached the mare. 227

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"She's beautiful," she murmured as Aubri ran a hand along the mare's quivering flank. "She is indeed," he replied warmly. He had an eye for beauty and that included horses. The dapple grey was marked with a white diamond on her nose, and white socks on her fetlocks. Her forelock and tail were a silky pale grey. Her confirmation was perfect, and he wondered if perhaps he should breed her with his stallion. But then, the mare was Aubri's now and that would be her choice. After a long moment of silence, Aubri looked at him. "Is she truly for me?" His smile faded. Instead of the squeals of delight he'd been expecting, there was look of astonishment, of utter disbelief, as though she could not fathom someone doing something special for her. "Yes, my sweet, she's yours. My gift to you." For a long moment Aubriana stared at him. The emotions fluttering behind her eyes were almost too much for him to witness. She crossed the space between them and wrapped her arms around his neck before pressing her soft lips to his. Was that a tear in her eye? His thoughts scattered like autumn leaves before a southerly wind as her mouth moved over his in a warm, sensual kiss. It was not a kiss of passion, but of gratitude, of...something deeper. Something he refused to acknowledge. Alex enfolded her in his embrace, and pulled her close. She ended the kiss and ducked her head like a shy kitten. "Thank you," she murmured against his chest. "I shall cherish her always." 228

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Alexande stared down at her, and caught a glimpse of a tear trailing down her cheek. "It was not my intention to make you cry," he said softly. She glanced up him and searched his gaze. "No. You don't understand. No one has ever given me something so precious. And you have done so twice. First Chaton and now Pippa. I don't know how to thank you." Her voice softened to a whisper. Normally, Alex would come back with an adroit remark about pleasuring him. But all such thoughts fled before the deep emotion shining in her glistening gaze. He closed his eyes, desperate to shut it out, but it was too late. It pelted him like a torrential downpour and howled through his bleak soul with the force of a hurricane. Love. It was there, shining in her eyes like a beacon in the darkness of night. His gut twisted into knots as a keen hunger awoke within. A deep seated yearning he thought buried in the deepest part of his soul. What would it be like to love and be loved? The thought rose unbidden, piercing the wall of ice he'd so carefully constructed around his heart, pounding against the metal armor encasing his soul. For a moment, he stood still as stone—even his heart ceased to beat. Then anger rose terrible and swift, crushing the tender sentiment beneath its relentless heel. What poppycock! Love was for ill-fated lovers and mewling milkmaids. Love was a weakness that corrupted the strongest 229

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man, and made the wisest a fool. Alexande was no fool, nor would he ever play the part for any woman. He opened his eyes, but his acrid remark died on his lips as he gazed at her. She was watching him with tenderness, honesty and trust, and he could not bring himself to kill the moment. Unable to help himself, he reached out and stroked her cheek. As he gazed deeply into those luminescent eyes, he gave her a slow, charming smile. She blushed and glanced away. His world righted itself, and the remnants of that dangerous moment were swept into the darkest, dustiest hole in his being. "Come, ma petite," he said as he guided her back to her mare. "Why don't we exercise your new gift and go for a ride." [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Twenty **** Aubri sat before the hearth in her sitting room, idly scratching Chaton's ear. Alexande was gone. He'd left earlier that afternoon for a private soiree at the Wyatts. He'd received the invitation weeks ago, and could not back out of it now—or so he told her. Though neither one of them had spoken of it, Aubri knew the truth. She was scandalous. A gentleman did not escort his mistress around in public. It simply wasn't done. At least Alex had attempted to soothe her. They'd taken a ride that morning, as they often did now, and he had proceeded to make love to her on a bed of wild flowers. A slow sensual loving that had left them both breathless. She'd cried afterwards, as Alexande had cradled her in his arms, overwhelmed by the tenderness of his touch and affection shining in his eyes. A terrible hunger had awoken inside her. A desperate longing for something she could never have— Alexande. Alex was a rogue and once their tryst ended he would simply walk away. And Aubri would be left with an unfillable void and a handful of wonderful memories. Aubriana shook off the bleak thought. It was foolish to torture herself, not when there were more pressing matters at hand. 231

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She glanced around her private sitting room. Of course there was no one spying on her—at least not at the moment. Molly was busy with chores which left Aubri very much alone. She picked up the second volume of The Invisible Spy and flipped open the book, retrieving a folded piece of foolscap. She knew before she even glanced at the rough scrawl what it would say. It had been nearly two weeks since her last report—about the time Alexande had gifted her Pippa—and Sheriff Hodgeson was getting anxious. She quickly scanned the letter. No, the sheriff wasn't just anxious, he was getting angry and rumbling threats. Aubri bit her bottom lip as she read the missive a second time, before crumpling it up and tossing it into the fire. She watched it burn with perverse satisfaction, the flames consuming the paper until there was nothing left but black ash. But it did nothing to ease the turmoil churning in her stomach. She couldn't do this anymore. She couldn't spy on Alexande. Something had changed the day he'd given her the mare. Aubri was afraid to acknowledge just what it was that had blossomed inside her that day. She thought she saw it reflected in Alex's eyes, but now she wasn't so sure. Perhaps it was just as well. She was a farmer's daughter after all, and he a marquis. Besides, he'd left no doubt as to his stance against marriage. There could never be anything more between them. She bit her bottom lip again. 232

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Nor could she simply walk away from her mission. Though she still didn't know who was in the right—the sheriff or Alexande—it was her duty to complete it. Hodgeson was corrupt and he was lying to her for reasons unknown, but she still wasn't sure about Alex. She had seen him sneaking around the house dressed all in black late one night. She still thought it a rather strange way to conduct an investigation. Yet, she would swear on her life Alexande was honorable to a fault—he had saved her life in Poole. She would have to report something to the sheriff to keep him at bay. And with Alexande gone for the evening, it was her best chance to peruse his secret papers without being discovered. Aubri casually strode down the hall toward the study. She glanced around, but there was no one in sight. Yet with every step, her anxiety deepened. Guilt twisted inside her, until she was nauseated. When she neared the study she paused. The door was ajar. That was odd. With Alexande gone, the study should be shut tight...unless someone was cleaning. She hoped it was Molly, for the prospect of talking with her friend held far more appeal than spying on Alex—duty or no. Aubri opened the portal wide and stepped inside. And froze. Leaning over Lord Ravenspur's huge desk, a pair spectacles riding low on her sharp nose, was the housekeeper. Was she reading Alexande's secret papers? Aubri recognized the dark blue ribbon he used to bind them. 233

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Outrage coursed through her. How dare the woman violate his privacy! "Mrs. Fulthrop!" Aubriana admonished. The housekeeper leapt backward in shock, guilt flashing across her pinched face. She straightened and stilled as she caught sight of Aubri. Her eyes narrowed, her lips pursed as she slowly removed her glasses and placed them in her apron pocket. She stepped forward, and took the parchment she'd been reading and deliberately turned it face down as if to say she had every right to read the marquis' correspondence—but Aubriana did not. "What do you think you're doing?" Aubri demanded, incensed. Mrs. Fulthrop lifted her chin and looked down her nose. "That is none of your concern," she replied crisply, her pale eyes twin chips of ice. The audacity! Aubri gestured to the papers neatly stacked on the desktop. "And you think it's yours?" she asked incredulously. "As a matter of fact, I do," Mrs. Fulthrop returned coldly. Aubriana was taken aback. "What do you mean?" "Did you think Espion would allow you," the housekeeper raked a scathing gaze up and down Aubri's person as she spoke, "to handle something as important as spying on Ravenspur?" The nausea in her stomach turned into a full-blown tempest of dread. Still Aubri feinted innocence. "I-I don't know who or what you're talking about." 234

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A sly smile curved Mrs. Fulthrop's thin lips. Aubri had never seen the woman smile. Now she wished she hadn't—it was the smile of snake. "Don't you? Who do think your contact is here?" It hadn't been Becky after all. "But surely the sheriff would have told me." The housekeeper's brittle laugh cut off Aubriana's words. "That bloated, drunken sot? I think not. Espion is the man behind this mission. It is he who controls the sheriff and now he controls you." Aubriana shook her head refusing to believe a word the woman said. "No, you're wrong." "Am I? If Espion delivered the order that you must poison the marquis tomorrow, you would poison him. And do you know why? Because Espion could make certain members of your family—shall we say—find themselves in dire straits." Dear gods, she could not be speaking of Bram! "No," Aubri returned defiantly. "I would never poison Alexande." "Then you are bigger fool than I thought. But no matter, you have already served your purpose here." Aubri swallowed as a lump of fear rose up her throat. "I don't understand." The housekeeper smirked. "Of course you don't. An empty-headed light skirt like you could never understand the complexities of Espion or Lord Ravenspur for that matter. But you are a remarkable distraction. With the marquis sawing away between your thighs every night, he's had little time to concentrate on his investigation. Precisely Espion's intention." 235

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Aubriana stared at the woman. How the sheriff and this Espion must have laughed at her feeble reports. And how easily she'd fallen into Alex's bed, and he into her unwitting trap. Everything she'd experienced, every emotion which had burst inside of her because of Alexande was cheapened. She'd deceived him far more than even she had realized. Deceit upon deceit, lies upon lies...would it ever end? Aubri felt sickened to her very soul. She wrapped her arms around her middle, desperate to keep her gorge from rising. Mrs. Fulthrop laughed that evil, brittle laugh. "What an innocent you are," she sneered. "But innocent or no, you will poison Lord Ravenspur...sooner rather than later I suspect." Aubri's head snapped up. She would never hurt Alexande. She didn't care what threat they offered, she would never end his life! She stiffened her spine and glared at the housekeeper. "Perhaps I'll go to Alex and tell him everything. Perhaps I'll tell him that you have been sneaking behind his back, and reading his secret documents. And I know for a fact no matter how high a servant you may think yourself, you will be instantly dismissed for breaking your master's trust." "How dare you!" Mrs. Fulthrop shrieked. "How dare you threaten me! You who are nothing more than a little slut! Who has sold her body and her soul to man who is not even worthy of his grandfather's spit. A whore, that's what you are. And you'll be gone before long, just like all the other whores he consorts with. Do you think you will ever hold his affections? He'll toss you aside as if you were so much rubbish and move on to the next light skirt willing to spread 236

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her legs for a handsome face and bit of coin. While I'll continue to be the housekeeper here long after you are gone!" Aubriana stared at the housekeeper. The woman really was mad. But mad or no, Aubri refused to take any more of her abuse. "No, how dare you! I don't care what you might think of me, but the truth of the matter is, I am the mistress of this household, not you. Lord Ravenspur gave me that right. And if you don't watch that sharp tongue of yours, I will go to Alexande and see that you are dismissed." A deadly gleam entered Mrs. Fulthrop's eyes as she rounded the desk and took a threatening step toward her. "If you think I'm going to let some harlot like you take away my livelihood, you've got another think coming—" "Mrs. Fulthrop!" A man's voice barked, instantly stilling the woman's tirade. The housekeeper blanched white as her gaze darted to the door behind Aubri. Though Aubri did not glance back, she knew it to be the butler. "Mrs. Fulthrop, may I remind you that you are nothing more than the housekeeper—one who could be easily replaced! Whereas Miss Welbery is his mistress because his lordship wishes it. And as she just stated, she has full reign over the household and the servants, which is much more than I can say for you. And let me remind you, that you could be instantly dismissed for speaking to Miss Welbery that way. Do I make myself clear?!" Wiggins demanded. A crimson flush swept over Mrs. Fulthrop's pinched countenance as she glared at the butler. She held her head 237

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high, her lips pursed so tight it must hurt. "Yes, Mr. Wiggins, I understand perfectly," she responded in stilted tones, her voice as cold as ice. But Aubri could see the rage seething in her gaze. "Good, then you are dismissed. Return to your duties at once!" Without even sparing a glance in Aubri's direction, the housekeeper stalked past her, her stiff skirts swishing with her retreat. **** Wiggins stared at Aubriana's slender back. A strange sense of pride swelled inside him. Like Alexande, Aubri had changed in the two months she'd been at Bournemouth Hall. She'd been so shy and timid when she'd first arrived, Wiggins had felt sorry for her. But since becoming Alexande's mistress, she had grown into a full and more confident woman. Besides, it was so pleasing to see someone put that old dragon in her place. He frowned, realizing Aubriana had been standing there overly long—too still and quiet for his liking. "Miss, are you in need of something?" Wiggins asked gently. She turned suddenly, tears glistening in her pretty eyes, and ran straight into his arms. Wiggins stared at the honey-gold head lying on his shoulder, overcome with shock. He should remain rigid and unmoved, but something inside of him softened. Knowing it went against every rule his father had drummed into his head, he enfolded her in his arms and soothingly rubbed a 238

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hand up and down her back. She was so tender-hearted Wiggins couldn't help but feel for her. He wondered what other cruel things the housekeeper had said to Aubriana, as he'd only heard the tail end of their discourse. "S-she called me a sss-slut," Aubri stammered, her voice muffled. "A wh-whore and a h-harlot." She hiccupped and more tears soaked into his coat. "S-she said he's going t-toss me aside f-for the next woman to c-catch his fancy." Damn, Mrs. Fulthrop! He'd never met a more evil woman. "Hush, luv," he murmured. "Don't listen to what that cow has to say. She's nothing more than a shriveled up old widow who has forgotten what it's like to be a woman. You are the farthest thing from being a harlot who sells her body for money." "What do you mean?" she asked as Aubri pulled back to stare up at him, hope shining in her eyes. Gently he peeled her hands from around his neck and held her at arms length. He sighed. He was about to break his master's confidence for the first time in his long career. "I have been with his lordship for six years now, and before that I worked for his father for thirty. I know Lord Ravenspur is a rogue. He's had countless women, too many for me to remember, and many mistresses besides. But never, has he ever allowed anyone of them stay at his house for more than a single night. Not only has he taken you, a young miss to be his mistress—which he has never done before—but he compelled you to live with him, in his house. Not some rented townhouse, but here." 239

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Wiggins paused for a moment and regarded her. She was so fair, so kind, and so utterly beautiful—no wonder his lordship treated her differently from all his other women. "Lord Ravenspur is...different with you. He treats you special. I've never seen him happier, and with such dangerous business he's had to deal with of late. No, do not listen to Mrs. Fulthrop, she knows not of what she speaks, she knows nothing of his lordship's mind." Aubri's eyes grew round as saucers at his words, making her seem innocent, and so very young. He had a feeling she was exactly what the marquis needed. Someone gentle and guileless, someone who could fill his jaded heart with love. Someone who could see past his rank, wealth, and power, to the honorable man beneath. Wiggins watched as her hope turned into something more, and prayed he was not leading her falsely. If there was anyone who could cause Ravenspur's barren heart to beat again, it was this girl. She sniffed back her tears and blushed with embarrassment. Silently, he handed her a handkerchief. She dabbed her eyes and blew her nose before handing it back to him. Wiggins stared at it in horror. "Why don't you...umm...keep it." Aubri clutched the soiled cloth and laughed softly. "Thank you," she murmured, "for everything." "You are welcome. Now, miss, would you like a nice cup of hot tea to soothe you?" He asked formally, becoming the no240

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nonsense butler once more. But Wiggins had a feeling she'd worked her way into his heart. She took a step back as if realizing they'd returned to their former rolls. "Yes, I would like that very much, thank you." He bowed and turned to walk away, but she reached out and halted him. "Mr. Wiggins, I...please don't tell his lordship what happened with Mrs. Fulthrop. I don't want her to lose her job because of a moment of misjudgment and anger." Wiggins stared at her astonished. Any other woman, regardless of rank, would have been screaming for the housekeeper's dismissal—and rightly so. And Aubriana had more reasons than most. He looked at her with a newfound respect. She was far more honorable and generous than Mrs. Fulthrop could ever hope to be. A deep warmth filled his heart—he'd never felt such affection toward someone outside his master's family. "As you wish," he formally replied with a bow. Before she could utter another word, he turned on his heel and crisply walked from the room. **** Aubriana stared into the cheerful fire as she slowly sipped her hot cup of tea—Wiggins had delivered it personally. Already her trembling had ceased, but her emotions still roiled inside her. She was grateful for the butler's untold kindness and sensed there was something special about him—he genuinely cared about Alexande. From the gossip she'd heard downstairs, it was rare for servants to hold affection for their masters. 241

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She released a shuttering breath as she began to pace the study. Despite Wiggins' assurances, Aubriana knew there wasn't anything special about her. She'd even lied to the butler, not wanting him to know the true reason behind her distress, though she couldn't deny the housekeeper's words cut her deeply. But the only reason Aubri had asked him to tell no one of Mrs. Fulthrop's cruelty was not out of kindness, but fear. If Alex dismissed the housekeeper, no doubt the hateful woman would tell him everything—all of Aubriana's deceptions, and then he would hate her. Aubri couldn't bear the thought of Alex's hatred. She glanced at the walnut desk and frowned. In all the weeks she'd been spying on Alexande, never once had she found his secret papers lying about on his desk for all and sundry to read. Had Mrs. Fulthrop discovered their hiding place? Or had Alex actually forgotten to replace the documents? It seemed unlikely but anything was possible. He did seem in a bit of a rush to leave this afternoon. Aubri bit her lower lip, wondering what to do. She turned the stack upright. It had gotten thicker in the last two weeks. She knew she should just walk away now, turn her back on the whole bloody mission and have done with it. The sheriff and Espion had Mrs. Fulthrop, they certainly didn't need her. But her duty to "king and country" wasn't the only reason she'd kept up with her spying—there was also Bram and her dire need to protect him. There was no doubt Bram was a 242

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known smuggler, but to Aubriana's relief, he'd yet to be named as the revenue officer's murderer. What did Alexande make of her smuggling brother? Did he even care? She scanned the top document—a letter from the king. She breathed a little easier when it failed to mention Bram. She was about to read the next missive, when she paused. Something was hastily written at the bottom of the page. She straightened the curled edge, recognizing Alexande's elegant scrawl. W.B. 18th April Midnight It was an appointment for tonight! But that didn't make any sense. He'd told her before he left the soiree at the Wyatts wouldn't end until well after two o'clock in the morning. Aubri had felt a surge of jealousy at the thought of all the beautiful women who would be flocking to his side the moment he made his presence known. She gasped as a crushing realization filled her heart. Could it be a tryst with another woman? Her stomach twisted at the thought. Women couldn't resist him—she knew from personal experience—and he couldn't resist women. It was the sole reason behind his roguish tendencies after all. 243

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But would he truly betray her like that? If he was bored with her, why wouldn't he end it and be done with her. There was no need to go behind her back. Then why? Aubri stared at his bold handwriting, her eyes widening. W. B: Weymouth Bay, it had to be! Which could only mean one thing, a smuggler's ship was docking at midnight. No doubt Bram would be there to earn some extra blunt. Aubriana paced before the hearth, wringing her hands in agitation. But what did it mean? Had Alexande finally discovered the identity of the revenue officer's killer? Was he laying a trap for her brother tonight? She squeezed her eyes shut as pain pounded in her temples, and anguish squeezed her heart. Damn his hide! If only Bram had listened to her when she had tried to warn him. There was only one thing left to do. Aubri would pay a visit with her family, and forewarn her brother of the impending danger. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Twenty-One **** Aubriana's mare raced across the downs, trampling the fragrant wild flowers and spraying bits of grass in its wake. It was a glorious afternoon, the sun shining brilliantly with nary a cloud to mar the sky's blue perfection—yet Aubri's mood was dark. With every passing mile, her fury escalated. Damn her brother...and damn Alexande for laying a trap for Bram! She sighed as her horse cantered up the drive to her family home. She must hide her distress for it would not do for them to witness her woes. Her mother and father would have a fit if they learned their eldest daughter was playing mistress to a rogue. Though she'd missed her family, she had come to find a moment alone with Bram. Her brother must be warned! Aubri frowned as she neared the house. Had she arrived at the wrong farm? Gone was the dilapidated home with its sagging walls and broken shutters. In its place was a house of straight whitewashed walls, new wooden shutters, and cream muslin curtains wafting in the breeze. Even the holes in the roof had been patched. She slowed Pippa to a walk as they rounded the corner, and halted. Shocked, Aubriana stared at the ramshackle old 245

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barn—gone. In its place was a sturdy building twice the size, the wood freshly hewn. Though she'd been gone just over two months, how could her home have changed so much? "Is there something I can help ye with ma'am?" Aubri dismounted and turned at the unfamiliar voice. A middle-aged woman stood before a huge laundry tub, her brown hair tucked into a ruffled white cap. The woman wiped her reddened hands upon her crisp, white apron as she gazed at Aubriana expectantly. "Is this...the Welbery Farm?" Aubri questioned. The woman nodded. "Aye, ma'am, this be the Welbery residence. How may I help ye?" Aubri stiffened. "I'm Aubriana, the Welbery's eldest daughter. Who are you?" "Oh aye, Miss Welbery, I've heard so much about ye. I'm Tilly. I've been hired to serve yer family." How could her family afford to hire a maid? "If yer looking for Mrs. Welbery, she be in the house," she volunteered. "Thank you." Aubri turned on her heel and walked into the kitchen. Aubriana's heart skipped a beat as she stepped into the blissful domestic scene. Her mother, Helen, stood before the oven, removing a tray of freshly baked biscuits—their sweet aroma filling the air. Aubri's baby sister, Amber, sat on the floor near the kitchen hearth, playing with her favourite rag doll. While 246

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William, her nasty little brother, crouched beside Amber and pretended to impale her dolls with his wooden sword. Lydia, the middle sister, lounged at the kitchen table, absorbed in a ragged copy of Romeo and Juliet. She chewed her bottom lip and angled the book toward the light streaming through the window. How Aubriana missed her family! "Aubbbrrriii!" Amber squealed, shattering the peaceful moment. Jumping up, she ran to Aubri and wrapped her chubby little arms around Aubriana's legs—nearly toppling her older sister. Aubri's eyes misted as she ran her fingers through Amber's soft blonde curls. "I've missed you too, moppet," she murmured. "Aubri!" Helen exclaimed as she walked over and wrapped Aubriana in a motherly hug. Lydia jumped from her chair and rushed over, joy lighting her pretty face. "Aubri, how have you been faring?' her mother demanded. "What is the marquis like?" Lydia asked excitedly. "Are you staying home now?" Amber asked worriedly. Aubriana laughed and lifted her little sister into her arms. "I'm fine, mother," she said, flashing a reassuring smile. She felt better now she was in the bosom of her family. "No, I'm not staying sweetheart," she told Amber, "I just came for a visit." Pouting, Amber wrapped her arms around Aubri's neck and rested her head on her shoulder. Aubriana looked at Lydia, unsure of what to tell her. "The marquis...well...he is a fair employer." And he's an incredible 247

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kisser. I love it when he touches me. But those were sentiments she could hardly reveal. Just then her father, John, came striding into the room. Aubri handed Amber off to her mother and ran to her father. "Papa!" she cried, throwing herself into his waiting arms. John instantly enveloped her in his strong embrace and hugged her tight. She wept. "Aubri, honey, what's wrong?" he asked, gently stroking her hair—just like when she was a little girl. Aubriana shook her head as she continued to sob. She didn't know why she was crying, she just couldn't help it. "It's nothing, papa. I've just missed you all so much." "There, there, honey, there's no need to cry," he said softly and hugged her tighter. Aubri laughed, suddenly embarrassed. Gently she disengaged from his arms and stepped back to wipe her tears. "I'm sorry for being such a goose." Her father grasped her chin and gently forced her to meet his gaze. "Are you sure you're all right?" he asked concerned. "Yes," she hiccupped, and smiled. "How has Lord Ravenspur been treating you?" "His lordship is very kind," she reassured him. "He...he treats me well enough." Feeling guilty, her gaze dropped to the floor—she'd never lied to her papa before. Her father squeezed her shoulder affectionately. "I'm glad everything's working out. Your mother and I have been so very worried over you." 248

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She forced a bright smile to her lips. "You and Mom worry too much. I'm perfectly fine." He eyed her for a long, silent moment, before nodding. Surely, he didn't suspect anything was wrong? No one but herself and the marquis knew of the bargain they'd struck...and Mrs. Fulthrop, and Wiggins, and Molly... Her eyes widened in dismay. No doubt the entire staff of Bournemouth Hall was well aware of her sordid deeds. Dear gods, she prayed her parents never learned the truth. "Good," he said warmly. John turned to Helen. "Let us enjoy those wonderful smelling biscuits, my dear, while Aubri tells all about her job." William and Amber jumped up and down and squealed in delight at the prospect of eating their mother's freshly baked cookies. "Well, there isn't much to tell..." Aubri began as they sat around the kitchen table. She told them of her daily life as an upper housemaid, only omitting a few minute details like bathing the marquis and becoming his lover. Then she related her exciting journey to Poole, failing to mention the attack in the alley so as not to worry her family. By the time she was done, Amber was clamoring to see the kitten, and Lydia was all dreamy-eyed as if lost in one of her romantic daydreams. Distractedly, Aubriana watched as her mother busied herself at the stove—noticing Helen's cheeks were a healthy pink, and she had a lightness in her step.

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Mayhap Aubri's sacrifice was well worth the price—her family seemed whole and happy. The realization lifted her burdened spirit. She glanced at her father. "Mother seems so much better. How has she been faring?" A flush crept up John's neck. "She has been doing much better since Tilly came to work for us. You will have to give Lord Ravenspur our thanks." "Lord Ravenspur?" The flush deepened as her father cast his gaze about, as though he found it hard to look her in the eyes. "Actually...Lord Ravenspur sent men over to repair the house and rebuild the barn. The crops do look promising," he hastened to add. "And Bram has been doing well at the quay, the fishing is good this year, or so he says." Aubri stared at her father, speechless. Alexande was responsible for the repairs? But why would he do that? It was one of the reasons she'd detested him before she'd known him, the neglect he'd shown his tenants. Now, it appeared, she didn't even have that to fuel her anger toward him. Yet, why was her father acting so...odd? She rose from the table. It was time to see her brother. "Have you seen Bram? I need to speak with him." Her mother laughed. "He's in the barn, sweetheart. Where else would he be?" When Aubriana stepped into the gloomy barn, she found her brother stripped to the waist and forking hay into the stall of an unfamiliar horse. "She's a beauty," she commented. 250

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Bram leapt into the air, and hay went flying everywhere. He spun around and swore. "'Od's blood, Aubri! Do you have to scare the bloody hell out of me like that?" His brow darkened with displeasure. Aubri couldn't help but laugh. "Serves you right for all the years you jumped out at me," she replied with an impish smile. Bram shook his head as he turned around and went back to his work. "Got the day off, do you?" he asked. Nothing was ever casual with her brother. She could expect nothing less than the Spanish Inquisition. She shrugged. "As a matter of fact I do." She walked around him to the horse. It was a big tan Shire with a beautiful shiny coat. She reached up and rubbed its muzzle. "She's a beauty. How new?" "He," Bram corrected. "Got him two days ago." "Oh," Aubri blushed. She should have known it was a male, considering she'd grown up on the farm. Good thing Lydia hadn't heard, or Aubri would never hear the end of it. "I hope you haven't gotten rid of old George," Aubri queried as she peered at the other stalls. "No, da's not ready to put him out to pasture yet," Bram commented offhandedly. Aubri picked up a brush and ran it over the sleek coat. "Why are you here?" her brother asked. "I...there's..." She couldn't seem to find the words. "Have you told father about your smuggling?" she blurted. 251

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Bram whipped around and glared at her. "Of course not!" he hissed. "As far as he knows, the fishing vessels are paying well this year." "I understand Lord Ravenspur sent men to repair the house and barn." Bram merely grunted. "But where did papa get the money to buy a horse?" Her brother shrugged. "How the hell should I know? I'm assuming he got a loan from the banker, Mr. Wilson. With the way the weather has been, we're bound to have a good harvest. Why?" he asked with a frown. "Nothing, nothing," she said innocently. She laid down the brush and walked up to her brother. "Bram, there is something of great import which I must impart to you." That got his attention. He leaned the pitchfork against the wall and crossed his arms over his muscular chest. "What?" he demanded. Aubri swallowed and glanced around the barn to be sure they were alone. She fidgeted with her skirt and avoided his gaze. "The other day when you came to visit, I tried to tell you something, but you wouldn't let me. And then the marquis came and interrupted us." She glanced around again. "Aubri, what's going on? I don't have time for these games," he grumbled. His eyes narrowed and he unfolded his arms, his expression turning hard. "If his lordship has done anything to upset you—" His voice trailed off, the threat hanging in the air. "No, no, he's done nothing to me," Aubri assured him. 252

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She inhaled a deep breath and plunged in. "Lord Ravenspur's sole reason for being here is to investigate the local smuggling ring and the death of Sir Geoffrey Dunn." "What? You mean to tell me, the only reason that rake is here is to spy on the smuggling trade?" "Yes!" "How the hell do you know this?" Bram was incredulous. "While I was dusting his lordship's study the other day," she began slowly, relating the story she'd made up on the way over—it was only a slight stretching of the truth, after all, "I discovered some documents on his desk. I didn't mean to read them mind you, but when I noticed the coat-of-arms at the top of the page, my curiosity got the better of me. It was a letter from the king, an order of sorts, for Lord Ravenspur to investigate the smuggling ring at Weymouth and to get to the bottom of the revenue officer's death. As it turns out, Sir Geoffrey was Duke of Newcastle's nephew." "Bloody hell!" Bram cursed. His face darkened with anger and anxiety. He turned his back on her, his muscles taut. Had her brother truly killed the revenue officer? It was a question she'd been struggling with since that terrible night. But she couldn't bear to ask—and have him confirm it. Silence stretched between them. Slowly he turned around to face her, his gaze unreadable. "Are you sure that's what it said?" he asked slowly as if he were questioning a child. "I'm positive." She wished it were otherwise. Her brother closed his eyes and tipped his head back. 253

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"Bram," she said worriedly and gently touched his arm. His eyes flew open and he gazed down at her. "I...I want you to get out of this. It won't do you any good to go on. Sooner or later the marquis is going to discover what you've done, then what will you do? I will not let you rot in Newgate. I will not!" The hysteria she'd been fighting suddenly rose to the fore. Bram's expression softened, yet determination gleamed in his eyes. "I can't." "What do you mean you can't? If you get caught, you could be thrown into some horrible gaol, or pressed into naval service, or worse!" she cried. He reached out and gently touched her cheek. "Hush," he said quietly. "I'm in too deep. I can't turn back now. Besides, I have obligations to fulfill. And you know, as well as I, our family desperately needs the blunt. For more often than not in recent years, the harvest hasn't been good." He was right, of course. It was one of the reasons why she'd accepted Lord Ravenspur's indecent proposal. But Bram's life was at stake here, didn't he see that? She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off. "Aubri, I cannot. It would look too suspicious if I were to bow out now. Besides, a ship is anchoring at midnight tonight at Weymouth Bay. I shall be expected to help with the unloading, to get my cut." Alexande's note! She'd nearly forgotten. She latched onto her brother's arm. "Bram, you mustn't go out tonight!" she cried. "Aubri, it has taken me nigh these two years to gain Willy Seamus' trust. If I balk now, I may very well destroy all that I 254

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have worked for. Unless you can give me a valid reason to stay away, I am going to unload that ship," he said sternly. Aubriana closed her eyes in despair. What could she tell him when she didn't even understand what the note meant herself? "I don't know..." she moaned softly. Was she selling out her brother to protect her lover's secrets? Not if she could help it. Slowly, a plan began to form. But he'd lock her up if he knew what she was thinking. She opened her eyes and looked at him. "Just...promise me if you sense the slightest thing is wrong, that you will leave immediately!" Bram eyed her for a long moment before reluctantly agreeing. "Very well." [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Twenty-Two **** Dinner—thank the gods—was over. Alexande sat in bored repose while surveying his surroundings. Twin crystal chandeliers hung above the hundred foot banquet table, their sparkling light dancing upon the gilt accents covering the ornate plaster walls. An exquisite mural was painted across the entire expanse of the domed ceiling— a bevy of beauties, half naked, frolicked through an enchanted forest filled with elves, fairies, and sprites, while a knight in shining armor upon a white steed searched the foliage for the elusive sirens. The dining room was a showpiece designed to impress the Wyatt's esteemed guests—consisting of two portly barons; a Dr. Campbell; a solicitor; several wealthy merchants; their wives; and Orwald Hodgeson. Only two men had arrived alone, himself and the sheriff. The presence of the obese lawman had surprised him—but then if one wished to do business in the area, it was always best to keep the law on your side. Alex removed an ornate snuff box from his pocket, and inhaled a pinch of finely ground tobacco, before offering it to the gentleman beside him. Dinner had been an utter bore. 256

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Not because of the company—he'd been seated between Mrs. Wyatt and her daughter, Annabel, both of whom had been surprisingly delightful—but because he found the entire affair tedious and a complete waste of time. Though his rank, and his missions, demanded he socialize, he detested such gatherings. "How is your investigation going with the smuggling in Weymouth?" Arthur Wyatt boomed. He stood beside the hearth, cradling a brandy snifter in his stunted hand. All eyes turned to Alexande. Alex rose from his chair and made his way to the sideboard to pour himself a generous portion of Cognac. Holding his snifter nonchalantly, he turned to face the men. Unfortunately, the women had already retired to the drawingroom, leaving the gentlemen to their snuff and their spirits. "I was not aware," he commented indifferently, "that my business was of such interest." His gaze slid to the sheriff. What would it take to keep that one's fat lips shut? No doubt a hefty bribe—he should have considered it sooner. Hodgeson averted his gaze, and plucking a sweetmeat from a nearby tray, popped it into his mouth. He licked his plump bottom lip and his jowls quivered. Arthur waved aside Alexande's concerns. "You must know by now, my lord, Weymouth is such a very small town, everyone knows everyone's business. Why the news alone of your opening Bournemouth Hall spread like a wildfire through the village, and only an hour after your arrival. Such was the excitement of learning a nobleman finally claimed your grandfather's estate after fourteen long years." 257

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"Indeed," Mr. Flinton, the solicitor, agreed with a nod. "'Tis knowledge which makes the world go round." The solicitor truly spoke of gossip. No doubt he was a fuddy-duddy who excelled in spreading rumors. Alex hated gossips. More than one had nearly gotten him killed. "Yes, that business with Sir Geoffrey Dunn was dreadful," Dr. Campbell commented with genuine remorse. "Have you had much headway finding the men who killed him?" Alexande took a leisurely sip of his Cognac. "Alas no. It seems, there are quite a number of locals involved with smuggling. And not just the common folk. It would appear Sir Dunn had compiled a long list of suspected smugglers, as well as those who financed the ventures." His gaze touched upon each man to gauge their reaction. Fools. It was easy to see the guilty ones—flushed cheeks, a flash of the eyes, a bead of sweat upon the brow, shifting in their seats. But lucky for them, his primary concern was finding the revenue officer's murderer. "It was with much regret I learned Sir Geoffrey Dunn was in fact the nephew of the Duke of Newcastle," Alex offered nonchalantly. The casual conversation humming about the room died and several men looked decidedly pale, their mouths tinged green. The Duke of Newcastle was a powerful force in Parliament, the Prime Minister of Britain, and had joined forces with the ambitious William Pitt in the war against France—Newcastle was not a man to trifle with. 258

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Orwald choked on his sweetmeat and quickly quaffed his brandy. "That is dreadful news, my lord, simply dreadful," the doctor commented before taking a pull from his snifter. "Indeed. Murder is always a most foul and terrible thing," Alex replied coolly. Arthur Wyatt pushed away from the hearth and turned to the men with a jovial smile. He gestured to the steward who'd silently entered the room. "Ah yes, it would seem, gentlemen, 'tis time to join the ladies for sherry and port in the drawingroom." That was bloody convenient. Alex wondered at the squire's game. **** Alexande stood on the terrace, enjoying the cool breeze and fresh air. A silver moon crowned a bevy of stars scattered across the black velvet sky. Dark clouds littered the horizon, and the smell of rain hung in the air. A thunderstorm was coming. But it would not halt his mission, nor the French ship he knew to be docking at Weymouth Harbor. Something rustled softly behind him. He turned and greeted Miss Wyatt. "Mademoiselle," he said with a courtly bow. He glanced into the drawing-room and espied her father watching them as he spoke with Dr. Campbell. It appeared the Esquire hoped to obtain a marquis for a son-in-law. However, it would not be Alexande. 259

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Turning back, Alex leaned against the railing and gazed into the garden. "'Tis a lovely night, is it not?" he queried politely. "Yes, my lord. I dare say it won't be long before summer is full upon us," Miss Wyatt remarked softly. Alexande studied her profile for a moment. And realized he wasn't the least bit interested in the girl. It wasn't a disliking of the chit—on the contrary, she was pleasant company and quite lovely to look upon—he just didn't care to flirt with her. Which was surprising in itself. Alex enjoyed flirting with women, even the innocents—if only to give them a little thrill. At least the disinterest was mutual. He would hazard his entire fortune she'd already set her sights on another. Still, it was rather disconcerting—he could not muster an ounce of desire for the girl. Alexande frowned. Surely this had nothing to do with some ill-conceived loyalty to Aubriana? He never remained monogamous unless it suited him to do so. And she was but one of a bevy of beauties he could have in his bed, so why should she insistently dwell upon his thoughts now? He dismissed the puzzle and returned his attention to Annabel. "Your father has done very well for himself," he commented idly for want of a topic. She smiled. "Aye. Would you believe we once lived in a hovel, much like the farms of those who are now our tenants?" "Really? How very intriguing." 260

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She met his gaze and blushed. "Yes. He was very poor back then. A tallow collector. And then, quite by luck, he got offered a chance to become involved with a venture in a new coal company. My father leapt at the opportunity. And the rest, as they say, is history." Damn. He'd wanted her to elaborate on their family history but it appeared he would have to discover it another way. "And now he is trying to insinuate himself into high society," he murmured absently. Miss Wyatt stiffened. She glared at him, her eyes flashing with indignation—reminding him much of Aubriana. "That may be so, but my father worked very hard to bring his family out of the gutter," she hissed. "He has worked his fingers to the bone to gift us with such luxury. I know you blue bloods know nothing of hard work. He is worth ten of your kind alone!" Bloody hell! How could he have blundered so badly? It wasn't like him. He needed to focus on the moment at hand, and not the lovely mistress awaiting him at Bournemouth. "Forgive me, mademoiselle, I meant no offence. Only to make idle conversation," he apologized, flashing a charming smile. She eyed him for a long moment before relenting. "Yes, of course, forgive me, my lord." "There is nothing to forgive," he assured her. Her cheeks flushed crimson. "Yes, well. I think I have had enough of fresh air. If you'll excuse me." Before he could say another word, Miss Wyatt walked back into the drawing-room. 261

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Alexande stared after her, puzzled by her behavior...and his own. Normally women flirted outrageously in hopes of gaining his favor. And he granted it whenever he deemed them worthy. They did not turn into angry shrews, but then he usually did not behave like an ass and insult their fathers. He wandered past the French doors into the cool shadows, not wanting to speak with anyone just yet. He paused beside a hedge and closed his eyes, inhaling the sweet fragrance of the night air. Aubriana... Desire erupted in his loins as he was assailed by a keen sense of frustration. Why the hell did she linger upon his thoughts? He was eternally taunted by the girl. A whiff of a fragrance, her soft laughter, or a passionate sigh and she had him harder than stone and randier than a goat. He felt like a bloody marionette tangled in its strings. He had come to Bournemouth Hall for one reason—to solve the murder of Sir Geoffrey Dunn. Yet the moment he'd glimpsed Aubriana he'd wanted her as he'd never desired another woman. The damn chit had succeeded in turning him inside out, making him do things he'd normally never do—like seduce innocents, have her live in his home, and lavish her with gifts. Hell, he'd even gifted her a mare. It wasn't that he was frugal, only that he'd never yearned to please a woman before. Yet with Aubriana, he'd wanted to give her that prized horse, simply to watch her eyes light up. 262

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Of course, he'd known she'd like the mare and would therefore be even more grateful in bed. But her reaction had surprised even him. Even remembering the way she'd flung her arms around his neck and kissed him so sweetly, so tenderly, caused a fierce ache to blossom in his chest. Alexande dismissed the deep yearning gnawing inside—it didn't matter, it was but a trivial emotion, and one he could do without. Nothing mattered but his mission. And once it was over, their assignation would end and they would never see one another again. For Alexande had sworn never to entrust his heart to any woman—not even Aubriana. "Why the hell didn't you tell me Sir Dunn was Newcastle's nephew?!" a voice harshly demanded. Alexande's eyes snapped open. He glanced around the terrace and garden, but saw no one. He pressed deeper into the shadows and listened. "What matter is it now? The man is dead," another voice whined. The voices were coming from the other side of the hedge! "That may be true, but I would not hesitate to guess Ravenspur is here investigating the smuggling for that exact reason!" someone shouted, clearly irritated. It was Arthur Wyatt. Alex would recognize his booming voice anywhere. And the other fellow sounded like the snivelling sheriff, Orwald Hodgeson. There was a sharp snap of a fan opening, before a third man replied. "It doesn't do us any good to shout, or bemoan 263

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the facts." His voice was smooth and controlled. He had the cultured tones of a gentleman. Alexande could not match the voice to those at the soiree. "You know it's dangerous for you to have come here tonight. You should have waited till after the guests had gone. What if the marquis catches a glimpse of you?" Wyatt demanded. "I assure you, I took every precaution not to be noticed. Besides, what better than to meet right beneath that fop's nose," the gentleman returned dryly, his voice filled with contempt. "What the bloody hell was so important you had to pull me away from the party?" Wyatt exclaimed. "Might I remind you, you would not be wallowing in all this wealth if it were not for me," the gentleman threatened. Alexande's eyes narrowed. Had Wyatt acquired any of his wealth through coal? Or was it all a deception? "Of course, you're right. I do apologize, my lord," Wyatt returned, sounding contrite. "Forgiven," the gentleman replied regally. "Besides, we have much more important things to speak of. The French ship, Le Loup, will be arriving tonight. Unfortunately, urgent matters have come up and I will be unable to meet it. The captain is a close friend, so I want to be sure Seamus and his men are ready. The cargo will be extra profitable this time as there is to be a great abundance of tea and some very fine spirits. Muslin, silks, satins, and the like. "But it is imperative they take extra care, especially with the chest of tea. Unfortunately, I will not be able to speak 264

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with them beforehand. So I'm trusting you, Orwald, to do it for me." What was so important about a chest of tea? "Of course, my lord. I've never failed you," Hodgeson vowed. "Yet," the gentleman remarked snidely. "I shall have little trouble convincing Margaret and Annabel to go on a trip to London," Wyatt commented. "I'm sure," the gentleman responded with a chuckle. "Women are so eager to show themselves off, no matter the season. Everything will be waiting for you at the Abbey. No doubt the vicar will tell you precisely..." The drawing-room clock struck eleven. Damnation! Alex had to leave now if he was going to meet Seamus at the ship. He couldn't stay a moment longer, not even to hear the plans of the three conspirators. But at least he now knew precisely what he was looking for—he just had to figure out how to get his hands on it. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Twenty-Three **** Thunder rolled across the pitch black sky as the heavens opened and a deluge pummeled Aubriana where she huddled beneath the thick folds of her cloak. She watched as lightning arched between the rain-soaked earth and the furious storm above. The wind howled, tearing at her hiding spot—crouched behind the crates and barrels staked along the quay. She was cold, wet, and aching. At least she wasn't completely mad. After their talk, she'd gone to Bram's room and borrowed some of his old clothing— hiding them in her extensive petticoats—before returning to Bournemouth. Of course, she hadn't expected to be spying in the middle of a thunderstorm. Aubri had watched as Sheriff Hodgeson had arrived before the storm, and spoken with the smugglers before leaving. Now she knew beyond a doubt the man was crooked. It was after midnight and the marquis had yet to arrive. Aubriana stifled a groan as she slid to her knees, landing in a puddle of water. If she had an ounce of sense, she would leave now and return to her warm, luxurious four poster bed. But something held her back. She was desperate to know why Alexande was spying tonight...and why this ship. A blinding flash of lightning cracked overhead as a shadow rose in front of her and slipped onto the pier. It sidled up to one of the smugglers before glancing back. 266

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The man was dressed all in black, his clothes coarse like her brother's. His tricorn was pulled low, shadowing his eyes, and he had a dark beard, making him look unsavory. She listened as he spoke to Willy Seamus before following the smuggler up the gang plank and onto the ship. Aubri gasped. She'd recognize that voice anywhere. It was Lord Ravenspur. **** "Seamus." Alexande emerged from the shadows as the burly smuggler hefted a barrel onto a cart. Willy Seamus spun around, blanching white in a flash of brilliant light. "M-Mr. Black," Willy stammered. "W'at are ye doing here? Ye never said ye'd be comin' to the ship." "I want to help the men unload the cargo." Alex pulled a leather pouch out of his pocket and tossed it to the smuggler—it was heavy with coin. Willy easily caught it and didn't hesitate to slide it into his own coat pocket. "Very well, but ye'll 'ave to pull yer own weight. Me men and me 'ave a schedule to keep. We can't be held up by a bloke like ye." He looked nervous, like the idea didn't set well with him. But Alex had to search the ship. "Not to worry, Seamus, I can hold my own." He followed the smuggler up the creaking gang plank, slick from the pouring rain. On deck, the French sailors were huddled in groups against the storm—watching as the 267

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Englishmen marched below the quarterdeck to the cargo hold. Thankfully the smugglers were oblivious to the snide remarks of the French swabbers. Alexande walked through the hold, skimming over crates and barrels, as he searched. And found a brass and oak chest ornately decorated with gold leaves, seeming too fine even for so precious a commodity as tea. He hefted it onto his shoulders and fell in line behind the other men as they slowly marched up on deck into the slashing rain. The ship moaned, and rocked against the waves breaking against the hull. The massive masts swayed and creaked in the bleating wind. Alex crossed the plank and carried the chest to one of a dozen horse drawn carts. He waited until he had a moment alone before withdrawing his stiletto knife. Slipping the thin blade into the lock, he unlocked it with a deft flick of his wrist. Cautiously he lifted the lid. There was nothing but large cloth bags stuffed with whole tea leaves. He slid his hands beneath, but found nothing out of the ordinary. The hairs rose on the back of his neck. Someone was watching him. Quickly he shut the lid and locked it, before slipping the knife back into his pocket. He joined another group of smugglers and returned to the ship. For the last fortnight, Alexande had the distinct feeling he was being shadowed. Yet, whenever he tried to catch the tail, he found...nothing. And worse, there was a spy at Bournemouth Hall. 268

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Over the years, he'd learned to hide his secret documents, and to place a hair in the ribbon which bound them. Several times over the last three months, the hairs had gone missing, yet the papers were always carefully replaced. He had a terrible suspicion he knew precisely the culprit, but for the first time in his life, Alex didn't want to believe the worst of a woman—most certainly not Aubriana... But he'd learned even the most angelic could be a devil in disguise. After all, her brother was on the roster of local smugglers. She had to be aware of Bram's secret activities. He'd witnessed how close brother and sister were on the day of their journey to Poole. Hadn't she said to Bram there was something of great import she must tell him? Had she been trying to warn her brother of Alex's mission? More than once, the notion had crossed his mind. It was more disturbing than he cared to admit. But this was neither the time, nor the place to contemplate such things—no matter how much the idea of her perfidy pained him. **** Alexande was exhausted. It had taken three hours to unload the ship. He'd never done so much hard labor in his life—it was obvious he'd grown slack with his training and would rectify the matter as soon as the mission ended. He'd worked as hard as any of the smugglers, and even loaded two barrels of 269

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spirits onto Blitzen's back. The thoroughbred had not taken kindly to being turned into a pack mule. Bone-tired, he trudged behind the other men as he walked the stallion through the silent streets of Weymouth. He was eager to discover the secrets of the tea chest. Only then would he return home. Alex longed to slip into Aubri's warm bed and make wild, passionate love to her, until all thought was obliterated from his mind. A bolt of lust burst inside his loins, the heat alone was enough to warm him on such a miserable night. **** Aubri's teeth chattered as she sat stiff and cold in the driving rain. She didn't know how long she'd been waiting, but finally the smugglers had finished unloading the ship and were moving out. And Alexande was with them. She slipped from her hiding place and mounted her mare. Slowly, she trailed the weary smugglers as they wound their way through the sleeping streets of Weymouth. She wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed, but she had to discover where Alex was going...and why. It was an hour before the smugglers reached the village of Abbotsbury. Skirting the sleeping town, they made their way to the Abbotsbury Abbey and the ancient tower. St. Nicholas Church had been built on a hill overlooking the village, and was shadowed by the crumbling ruin of the old abbey. She guided her dapple grey mare into a lonely stand of trees and dismounted. She hooked the reins over a branch, and cautiously made her way to the church. 270

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Why would the smugglers go to a church of all places? Hiding behind the bracken, she watched as Willy Seamus approached the rear door. He unloaded a barrel of what she assumed was spirits and opened a stained glass window which contained a hidden door. He stuffed the barrel in the cubby hole, before slamming the window shut. A moment later, a decrepit old vicar opened the back door, and welcomed the smugglers inside. Aubri's jaw dropped as the men carried the contraband into the church. Was there nothing sacred? The priest watched as every last barrel, crate, bundle and chest was unloaded from the long line of wagons. When the last smuggler vacated the church, Willy Seamus dumped a pile of gleaming coins into the vicar's boney hand. The weary men piled into the wagons to begin their long journey back to Weymouth—all save for one. Lord Ravenspur. He waited until the smugglers rode out of sight, before pounding on the back door. When the old vicar peered outside, Alexande handed him a leather pouch—Aubri could only assume it was filled with blunt. The priest summoned him inside. Sickened by the possibilities, Aubri crept from her hiding place and searched for another opening—a window, anything to get her inside. She stumbled upon a small door, and trying the knob, found it unlocked. She peered into the darkness, before darting into the chapel. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Twenty-Four **** He was exhausted. But the night wasn't over for Alexande. He needed to discover what was so bloody important about the chest's contents. He waited for the smugglers to start their return journey, before pounding on the back door. A moment later, the bent, old priest peered out with glazed, rheumy eyes. "What is it that you want, my son?" he asked, his voice quivering from age. "Vicar. I'm here to retrieve the chest for my master," Alex said coolly. The priest blinked, and grew nervous. "Are you telling me you work for Mr. Espion?" "Aye," Alex confirmed. He reached into his pocked and pulled out a small leather pouch filled with coin. He placed it in the old vicar's weedy hand. "A donation." The priest's gnarled fingers curled over the pouch before slipping it into his robes. "Bless you, my son." He opened the door and admitted Alexande inside. Indeed, Alex thought cynically. The vicar shuffled into the gloom as Alex stalked to the vaulted chamber loaded with contraband. Oil lamps lit the room, illuminating the scores of crates, barrels, bushels and trunks stacked nearly to the ceiling. It contained far more merchandise than the smugglers had hauled that stormy 272

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night. It had to be a holding place for the illicit goods. No doubt, this was where Ridout loaded his carts before heading to the hungry London merchants. Instantly he spotted the ornate chest and hauled it beneath the lamp light. He picked the lock and opened the lid. Carefully, he removed each bag of tea leaves—examining them before setting them aside. He emptied the chest. Nothing. There were no secret documents, no contraband of great worth, no blunt—nothing. But Alex was not deterred. In his dangerous world, he'd learned men could be quite inventive when hiding the most important of secrets. Slowly he ran his hand along the bottom, touching every surface, investigating every crease and corner—but found nothing out of the ordinary. He turned to the lid and ran his hand over the domed ceiling. The interior arch was shallower than the exterior arc of the lid. He felt along the joints until he found the hard edge of starched material protruding from the leather corner. He tugged on the cloth and a thick packet of papers fell out. He ran his palm over the inside and found several cloth bands containing many gold coins stitched between the layers. He set aside his findings and did one last thorough search, before replacing the starched cloth into the leather seam, and the tea leaves into the chest. Alexande grabbed the packet and rose to his feet, angling the wax seal toward the light. It was devoid of any insignia. 273

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He broke the wax with his thumb nail and opened the neatly folded documents. Quickly, Alex skimmed the contents of the first letter. It was worse than he thought. Since taking on this mission, Alexande had discovered the names of many local smugglers, but one had stood out from the rest—Espion. It was peppered in Sir Dunn's reports to his uncle. Dunn suspected it was Espion who was responsible for most of the free-trade in the area. The revenue officer had even hinted Espion might be involved in far more nefarious dealings, but had had no proof. In his last report to the Duke of Newcastle, Dunn had stated his intentions of following the elusive smuggler to ascertain his identity. That night, he was murdered. And now Alex knew why. Espion was a traitor. According to the document, the sly bastard was selling military secrets to France: the placement of English troops in the new colonies of America; the plotted courses of Navel ships; the planned attacks on St. Malo and Cherbourg on the French coast; and the English soldiers assigned to repel the French attacks on Prussia. This was top secret information—but how Espion knew was anyone's guess. Thousands of good English soldiers and sailors would die if he did not get this information to William Pitt, the Paymaster of the Army and Secretary of State. And thousands more would perish if he did not discover the bastard's identity. Alexande's eyes narrowed. Damnation! 274

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Espion was French for "spy." The whoreson was taunting them with his very name while he sold England's military secrets to their age-old enemy. The hairs suddenly rose on the back of Alex's neck. Danger. There was someone else in the church, and it was not the vicar. Quickly, he placed the documents and coin in the chest before closing the lid. He slipped the pistol from his belt, and as silent as a wolf, sidled into the darkened corridor. **** Aubriana stood in the doorway, cold and wet, her teeth chattering as she waited for her eyes to adjust to the gloom. But it was so dark, she couldn't see her own feet. Blindly, she moved forward, waving her hands in front of her. She ran into a wall and used it as a guide as she slowly made her way deeper into the church. Awkwardly, she made her way through the darkness, and nearly fell flat on her face when the wall ended. She peered into the dim and found the soft glow of light seeping beneath a door. She made her way toward the portal, struggling to stifle her harsh breathing. Reaching it, she pressed her ear against the barrier. She heard nothing, but saw a shadow move across the illumination. It had to be the vicar's room, she guessed. As quiet as a church mouse, she slipped past the chamber and walked deeper into the chapel. Aubri paused as she sighted a faint glow up the corridor, this one much brighter than the last. Could it be the chamber 275

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where the smugglers had unloaded the illicit goods? And what if Alexande was in there? What can I possibly say to him if he finds me out? There was nothing to say to excuse her behavior. And once he discovered the truth, he would despise her. Then he would arrest Bram. Her brother would be hauled off to Newgate, then hanged for his crimes. Her poor mother would likely die from the shock, her sisters would be utterly ruined, and her father would never forgive her. She must not get caught. With her heart thundering like the storm pelting the church outside, she crept along the corridor until she reached the light. A door was ajar. She peered through a crack and her gaze widened. It was unbelievable. The large chamber was overflowing with contraband, nearly reaching the ceiling. My gods. She never knew there was so much free-trade in Weymouth. It was no wonder Bram had taken up the profession—and why he made such a tidy profit. Nowhere was Alexande to be seen. Aubriana slipped inside and nearly tripped over the chest lying in the middle of the floor. Her eyes widened. It was the chest, the one Alexande had opened upon hauling it from the ship. But why would someone drag it to the middle of the floor...unless they'd been interrupted. She had to move quickly if she was to leave without getting caught. 276

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Aubri bit back a groan as she slipped to her knees. She peeled off her soaked leather gloves and ran a hand over the gleaming brass. She'd never known anything more thrilling or dangerous. Aubri placed her hands on the lid, ready to discover all its secrets, when her heart plummeted. Of course it was locked. She'd seen Alex fiddle with the lock at the quay—he'd never leave it unlocked. She sighed in frustration. Bloody Hell. How could she be so unlucky? To come this far, to risk so much and still not know. Fighting her despair, she tried lifting the lid...and it opened. Aubri gasped, and stared at the packet of letters and coins laying carelessly upon the bags of tea leaves. Gingerly, she took up the first letter and angled it toward the light. Aubri frowned. The fluid script was unintelligible—until she realized it was French. Thanks to Alex's insisting she learn French, the words slowly became clear to her. She scanned down the page, making out most of it... "Oh my God!" she gasped. The parchment slipped from her fingers as tears welled in her eyes. No, it couldn't be true! Aubri shook her head against the glaring truth—her heart breaking. She clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her choked cries. Quickly, she lifted the letter and placed it with the others in the chest. She didn't want to read anymore, didn't want them to damn her with the truth. She closed the lid and 277

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rose to her feet on shaking limbs. Slowly she backed away from the chest, unable to tear her eyes from it. It was worse than she could ever imagine. **** She staggered through the darkness, slipping on the slick grass. The wind howled its vengeance, whipping at her cloak and tearing at her tricorn. The rain poured from the heavens as if to drown her. Aubri slipped and fell, her knees hitting the spongy earth, her fingers digging into the dirt. She choked back a sob, and forced herself onto her feet. She ran through the blinding rain and finally made it to the lonely stand of trees. She fell against a tree trunk, and doubling over, wept from the pain ripping her apart. Tears flooded her cheeks and mingled with the rain. Why did I have to follow Alexande? Why couldn't she have remained ignorant of his duplicity? Aubri couldn't even begin to reconcile the two halves of the man she loved. On the one hand he was honorable, kind, gentle, and generous. And yet on the other...he was a traitor to his own country. This was the same man who had lavished her with gifts, taken her virtue with tenderness and passion, who had risked his life to save hers. Yet it was the same man who was selling secrets to the French. Sheriff Hodgeson had been right all along. He hadn't been lying or using her for his own nefarious means. It was inconceivable! But what of Espion, how did he fit in all of this? 278

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Aubriana's breath hitched on a sob, her eyes flying open, as she was damned by the truth—a truth she could no longer ignore. I love Alexande. The wonderful, yet horrible realization nearly cleaved her soul in two. She'd been fighting it for weeks but now it would not be denied. No longer possessing the will to stand, she slid to the ground and curled into a ball. Fool, fool, fool! How could she have been so foolish as to lose her heart to such a man? Aubri didn't know how long she remained there in the pouring rain, but finally her tears ceased, and the knife pain turned to a dull ache. Slowly she rose on stiff limbs and wiped the water from her eyes. Though she was numb of mind and spirit, she had to return to Bournemouth before Alexande. She pulled her cloak tight about her and slowly trudged back to her mare. Still the rain pummeled the earth, lightning struck, and the thunder rumbled as if by the gods' fury. Boom. Aubriana's head snapped up. A gunshot. She turned and ran toward the church, her pulse roaring in her ears. Aubri reached the edge of the thicket and skidded to a halt. In a single flash of brilliant light, everything was clarified in one terrible moment. Alexande stood over a body sprawled upon the ground—a dark pool of blood welled from the fallen man. And in the marquis' hand was a smoking gun. 279

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No...No...NO! Aubri shook her head in disbelief as she slowly backed away. Oh my God! What has he done? Her heart boomed in her ears as a wave of nausea swept through her body. She turned and retched the meager contents of her stomach onto the ground. She trembled, sickened to her soul. Alexande had killed a man. Somehow she found her mare. Pippa stood quaking beneath the trees. With the last of her strength, Aubri hauled herself onto the back of her horse. Blindly she guided it through the stand of oaks until they reached the open fields. She urged Pippa into a fierce gallop—desperate to escape the horror she'd witnessed. But there was one horrifying truth Aubri would never escape—she was in love with a man who was a traitor and a murderer. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Twenty-Five **** "Damn it all to hell!" Alexande stood over the man he'd just shot. Blood bubbled and oozed from the hole in the bastard's chest and soaked into his begrimed coat. The whoreson didn't have much longer to live—Alex had seen those kinds of wounds before. He knelt and put a finger to the man's throat—the pulse was faint, barely there. Alex swore again. If only the bloody fool had not tried to kill him. He grabbed the cur by the collar and shook him roughly. "Wake up!" The man moaned, and his eyes fluttered open. He stared wide-eyed at Alex. "Who do you work for?" Alexande demanded. The man blinked. "What is the bastard's name?" The cur trembled. "Eeesssppiiioonnn," he croaked. Then he shook violently, coughing up blood. Alex waited until the man's breathing eased. "Espion. Who is he? Where can I find him?" The man's lungs started to rattle, his breathing labored, and his eyes glazed. Damnation! Alex gently laid him back onto the ground and rose. 281

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There was no need to question him further—the man was about to meet his doom. The old vicar burst out of the back door, his hair in wild disarray, his clothes disheveled. "What bloody well happened?" "The man is dying. I mistook him for a footpad," Alex explained, and gestured toward the gun still grasped in the cur's hand. The vicar slowly sank to his knees and mumbled over the body as if his tired faith could keep the man alive. Alexande scooped up the dying man's pistol and slipped it into his pocket. Without a backward glance, he stalked back into the church. He wasn't about to leave without the evidence against the mysterious Espion. He stepped into the vaulted chamber, and halted. His eyes narrowed as he spotted something peculiar lying beside the chest. Stooping, he picked it up—gloves. Finely crafted leather riding gloves...for a lady. What the bloody hell? Alexande stared at them, his mind reeling with the possibilities. A woman had come here? Tonight? But why? He scrutinized the rest of the chamber, but nothing was out of place. He had a mind for remembering details. It had served him countless times on his missions. His gaze dropped to the chest. He threw open the lid and was astonished to find the letters and coin where he'd left them. It didn't make any sense. His eyes narrowed. 282

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Someone had read the letters. The packet was open as if he or she had dropped it into the chest upon reading the contents. Quickly, he grabbed the letters and the coin and slipped them into his pockets, along with the gloves. He closed the lid and locked it, before replacing the chest amongst the rest of the contraband. He had to get out of there before more of Espion's men arrived. **** Alexande galloped across the downs at breakneck speed, cutting a wide swath through the pouring rain as he headed for home. He was chilled to the bone. Despite what many thought, he did not like death, nor did he care for killing—not even to save his own life. Nor did he kill in cold blood—with one exception, avenging his elder brother, James. Alex was not supposed to be the marquis. He had been nothing more than the middling brother—a spare who'd been unwanted by his father, and unloved by his mother. He'd planned for a grand tour and then captaining one of his father's ships—The Sea Hawk. But when his brother was killed in an early dawn appointment on the field of honor with Lord Marche, Alexande had been enraged. He'd been so consumed by fury, his friends had to physically restrain him to keep him from killing the bastard when he next saw Marche. From that day forward he'd plotted his vengeance. 283

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It had taken months for the burning rage to cool, but he'd not been idle. He'd always been a better swordsman than his brother. Still he took to training with the best fencing master England had to offer. Only when he'd perfected every move, and succeeded in beating his teacher, did he plot his enemy's demise. With cool calculation, he'd stripped Marche of his wealth through the gaming tables and accused him of cheating—forcing the bastard to a duel. With great pleasure, he'd proven himself the superior swordsman. Never had there been a sweeter revenge as when Alex thrust his sword into Marche's heart, delivering the killing stroke. His vengeance had truly changed his life. Within a few hours after his duel with Lord Marche, Alex had been summoned to Whitehall, and to the king's private audience chamber. There he'd been asked to spy for His Majesty. It turned out Marche had been an agent for the Crown—one of their best—but he'd let his personal foibles get in the way, hence his dawn appointment with death. But Alexande was seen as a far better candidate—cool under pressure, and highly skilled. He'd leapt at the chance. Since James' death, his mother and father had become even more unbearable, and he'd needed the escape. Because of his high rank, he would be welcomed at any court in Europe, and because of his reputation with the ladies, he could charm his way into any woman's bed—discovering her husband's secrets. They furthered his education, sending him to the best masters all over Europe. And when he finally took his Grand 284

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Tour, he had in fact begun his mission. He spent years in France, gathering information. He'd seduced, cajoled, stole, and killed for his king and country. When his father died, he returned home to claim his due and became the Marquis of Ravenspur. With his new elevated position, even more doors were opened to him. He travelled to Prussia, Spain, France, and Russia. He sank the money the crown gave him into his father's shipping company, until he had one of the largest and fastest merchant fleets in England. He was even given licence to trade with India, and in return, he allowed the Crown to use his ships and his captains for various missions. He was, in essence, a master spy with an extensive network at his disposal—unofficially. But when war broke out in 1754, he was called back to England. Unlike most spies, he was not expendable, though there were other titled spies in the field. Now he worked on missions like this, solving crimes and catching enemy agents working on English soil. He was sick of death. Too many times he'd faced it and barely escaped, but not unscathed. His soul was heavily scarred from all he'd seen and done—for he was cursed to remember the face of every man he'd been forced to kill. Though some deserved it more than others—death was death. And no doubt the bastard at the church was dead. Had he been the fool shadowing him for the past fortnight? It was certainly plausible, given everyone in Weymouth knew of Alex's investigation. And now that he had evidence of 285

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Espion's treachery, he did not doubt the man would soon make a move against him. Though he was not any closer to discovering the traitor's identity, Alex knew his instincts were correct—Espion had murdered Sir Geoffrey Dunn. The revenue officer must have gotten too close—but he would never know for sure—not unless he caught the whoreson himself. Alexande shivered. He'd never felt so cold or empty. He spotted Bournemouth on the horizon and urged Blitzen into a mad gallop. The rumble of the iron-shod hooves rivaled the storm as the Thunder God sent bolts of lightning arching across the heavens. Alex was assailed by a wild, insatiable need for her. It was inexcusable, it was unthinkable, it was weak, but he'd never known the like in his life. He needed Aubriana in his arms, her lush naked body pressed to his. He needed to lose himself in the slick heat of her—to drown in her warmth and tenderness, and hope it would be enough to fill all the long and empty years stretched before him. Alex needed Aubri, now. **** Aubriana lay abed, trembling beneath the covers as she stared blindly at the darkened windows. Each time she closed her eyes, all she could see was Alexande holding a gun, a body sprawled at his feet in a pool of blood. Alex had killed a man. Her gaze wavered as tears welled and slid down her cheeks. She'd never felt so wretched in her life. The man I 286

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love is a murderer and a traitor. The knowledge taunted her mercilessly. But the truth was even more damning. Despite all that she witnessed this terrible night, she loved him. For the last month, she'd stubbornly ignored the powerful emotion creeping into her heart, claiming her soul. She'd been desperate to dismiss it, knowing it was impossible for anything to come of it. Aubri had fallen in love with him the moment she'd espied him, that day in the town hall. She'd never before met someone so devilishly attractive, so utterly captivating. But it was more than his looks, or the sparkle in his eyes, or the passion they shared in and out of bed. It was the way he held her in the dark of night, as if he couldn't bear to let her go. It was the tenderness in his gaze, the gentleness of his touch, the kindness of his heart. But who was he? The man who made her feel cherished, wanted, and loved? Or a cold-blooded killer? A man who had sold his soul in betraying his country. And what of his investigation? Was it all a rouse to hide his treacherous dealings? Or was there more than what she was seeing? Aubri's head and heart ached. She didn't want to think of Alexande's treachery, or the terrible things she'd witnessed tonight. She wanted him to hold her. Had she stopped loving her brother when she learned of his heinous crimes? No, she had not. In fact, she'd done everything in her power to protect him and her family, and would continue to do so. How was Alex any different? Her father had told her, people were made of both good and bad. 287

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No one was purely good or purely evil, most were but a blending of the two. Aubri stilled, all thoughts vanishing as her gaze focused on the tall, dark figure standing in her room. In a brilliant flash of lightning, she saw it was Alexande. He was soaking wet, dripping from head to toe. In his black attire, he looked feral, and more dangerous than she'd ever seen him. Yet, it was his eyes which drew her. His gaze was of agony and pain...of...need. She saw more than lust in his eyes, she saw a yearning so intense it scared her—but was unable to ignore. Fearing she had no will of her own, Aubri peeled back the covers and slipped out of bed. For several long minutes, she stood there watching him and grappled with uncertainty. Individually, they were two, cold, aching beings, but together they could create a conflagration of ecstasy. **** Alexande stared at his mistress as he struggled to contain the fierce need raging inside him. She looked so warm and inviting, so soft and desirable, yet her gaze was haunted as though she grappled with some inner demon. She was not alone. He was desperate to touch her, to hold her in his arms, to chase away the terrible ache within his heart. Yet, for the first time in his life, he was afraid to reach out for what he desired most—for his soul was stained with blood. She had to make the first move, to want him. 288

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For a long moment, they simply stared into each other's eyes. Very slowly, she reached up and brushed her fingers down his cheek...and he was lost in a tempest of need. Alex groaned as he crushed her against him. He lifted her off her feet before taking her mouth in a desperate kiss—a meshing of lips and mouths and tongues. Hunger exploded and rushed through his veins with the ferocity of the storm battering the windows outside. He ached for her, ached for this. Only his sweet Aubri could chase the cold away, could fill the emptiness inside his soul with her warmth, her passion, her touch. Aubri was frantic with desire. She drove her fingers into the rough silk of his hair, and knocked his tricorn to the floor. She tore at the riband binding the locks, until the ebony waves flowed about his shoulders. She ravished his mouth, helpless to passion's embrace. She wanted him. She loved him. The truth pounded with the rapid cadence of her heart. Alex tore his mouth from her lush lips, and kissed a path along her delicate jaw to her tender ear. He nibbled on the lobe and she gasped. "I need you, Aubri," he murmured huskily. He was desperate as if her touch, her passion could wash away his years of taint. "Yes," she moaned. His blood turned molten in his veins. He growled low and released her. Lightning struck and illuminated the gloom. His eyes narrowed as he dragged his gaze down her body. Wet from 289

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their embrace, her nightgown molded to her skin, revealing her luscious breasts, the indent of her waist, the soft curves of her hips, and the dark tangle of curls crowning her thighs. "I need your help," he said softly. Aubri could not resist the raw hunger burning in his eyes. She pulled on the bow of his black neck cloth and unwound it from around his throat. It fluttered to the floor a moment later. Her hands trembled as she attacked the buttons of his superfine wool coat. She pushed it off his broad shoulders and the stiff skirt landed on the carpet with a muffled thud. His belt and sword went next, his pistol falling harmlessly beside them. She'd never been so aroused in her life. As each article of clothing was removed, her desire heightened until she feared it would consume her. In all the times he'd come to her room to make love, never once had she the pleasure to undress him. She tugged on the ties below his collar, and his shirt gapped open, revealing an enticing hint of dark chest hair. Gooseflesh sprayed down her arms, and her mons grew wet at the sight of him. Slowly she slid her hands down his chest and torso until she reached his breeches. She undid the placket of his pants, before reaching inside and tugging on the hem of his shirt. She pulled it slowly up his body, her fingers dancing over his taut flesh. With a growl of impatience, Alex whipped the shirt over his head and tossed it onto the growing pile at their feet. Her every touch, every movement, was a seduction unlike any 290

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he'd experienced. If she didn't get on with it soon, he'd have to throw her onto the rug and make love to her there. He watched with heavy-lidded eyes as she slowly slid to her knees, her mouth level with his straining cock. The blood pounded hard and thick through his veins, he was nearly insane with lust. Her teasing fingers glided an icy trail down his torso, sending another bolt of need exploding in his groin. If his erection got any harder, he was going to burst. Boldly, she gazed into his eyes as she hooked her hands into his trousers. "Boots and stockings are next, love," he reminded her hoarsely. "Oh," she gasped, her cheeks flaming with embarrassment. He exhaled softly. His cock was so hard, so stiff, it might break off inside her if he had to wait much longer. Aubri slipped off his tall, black leather boots, before tackling his garters and stockings. When she was done, she sat back and stared at the huge bulge pushing against the front of his breeches. She licked her lips as she finished undoing the placket of his pants and pushed them open wide. Feeling daring, she grabbed the waistband and yanked down his pants. He stepped out of the legs and she tossed his trousers aside. His hard cock jutted from the nest of dark fur, the crimson head throbbing to the beat of his heart. As she watched, a drop of clear liquid welled at the tip of the heart-shaped head. She leaned forward and slid her tongue across the tip, catching the salty drop. 291

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Aubri had never tasted anything so delicious. Alexande's gaze narrowed as she boldly licked the pearly drop from his engorged shaft. The little minx was going to have him exploding in her mouth if she persisted. And though he'd love the treat, he was hungry for more. Without a word, he slipped his arms beneath hers and forced her to her feet. Growling with the animal lust pounding through his veins, Alex hooked his fingers into her bodice, and ripped her night rail down the middle. With a satisfied smile, he tore it from her body and threw it onto the ground. Aubri gasped. Never had he done anything so wild before. In the next moment, he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed. He laid her gently on the cool sheets before sliding his body over hers, settling between her thighs. His skin was so hot, it was like cuddling a firebrand. She wrapped her arms and legs around him as their mouths fused in a searing kiss. She moved against him—needing his hard flesh pressed to her belly, forging deep into her core. His chest burning with the need to breathe, Alex tore his mouth from hers. Gods, she's beautiful. Truly, he'd never witnessed a more luscious sight, never had a more lovely female in his bed. Her amethyst eyes were glazed with passion, her cheeks stained with need, her lips swollen from their kisses. She was so enchanting, his heart ached at the sight of her. He delighted in her gasps, reveled in her moans. Never had he known a more passionate woman. 292

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He stroked his hands up and down her sides as he pressed kisses over her cheeks, her jaw, and throat. Her breasts quivered when he touched them. Her nipples puckered as he teased them with his fingers, and then the tip of his tongue. He suckled her breast until she moaned and writhed beneath him. Aubri squeezed her eyes shut and groaned helplessly. Fire raced up and down her body, her core burned with need. She was so wet with her juices, she could feel them seeping past her nether lips. She dug her nails into his shoulder and arched her back. "Alex," she shouted, "I—need—you." He growled at her words, a low primal sound sending a volley of shivers racing up her spine. Suddenly, he abandoned her breast and slowly roved down her torso, his tongue darting out to lick and tease. She gasped as he dipped it into her navel and swirled. If he didn't take her soon, Aubri feared she would go mad. He moved lower and lower until he was kissing the tops of her thighs. Her legs fell open when his lips slid across her cleft. She tossed her head from side to side as his tongue laved at her juices and teased her mercilessly. Alexande's hands shook as he pried her legs wider, and he devoured the hot honey seeping from her sex. She was so slick, so hot, she would scald his cock when he finally thrust into her. He inhaled the musky scent of her arousal and his erection hardened another impossible degree. He was 293

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maddened by the need to be inside, but he needed to taste her more. Sliding his hands beneath her buttocks, he lifted her to his mouth. Her juices were ambrosia on his tongue, an aphrodisiac setting fire to his veins. He licked and nibbled and tongued her soft folds, lapping every delicious drop of her passion. He tackled her hardened clit and teased and suckled till her body shook and she moaned his name in sweet agony. Aubri gasped, and arched her hips against his hungry mouth as the orgasm burst inside her. A thousand brilliant colors exploded before her shut eyes. "Alex!" she screamed. She clawed his back, her nails digging deep. Gods, how she needed him. Slowly, she drifted back down to earth, but it was not enough, not nearly enough to satisfy the gnawing need in her woman's core. "Please, Alex, I need you inside me," she sobbed. Unable to deny her or himself for a moment longer, Alex slid up her body. Nestling his hips between her creamy thighs, he captured her lips in a hungry kiss. Slowly, he slid his cock into her scorching sheath, until he was seated to the hilt. Alex groaned at the feel of her hot cunny gripping his erection. Her arms slid around him, her legs gripped his hips as her tongue darted into his mouth. He began to thrust. Slow at first, but all too quickly he was swept away by the raging lust rushing through his veins. He took her hard and 294

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fast, his tongue matching the wild rhythm of his stroking shaft. Aubri moaned into his mouth as she arched her hips into every one of his driving thrusts. She dug her fingers into his buttocks, desperate to pull him deeper inside her. She'd never felt this wild before like she couldn't get enough. She clamped her legs around his hips, her arms around his back. She bit his shoulder as the fire grew hotter between her thighs. He wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her body closer. But still it wasn't enough. She needed more. She felt crazed for the want of release. She closed her eyes and flung her head back as he rammed into her harder and faster. "Yes...yes!" she gasped as she arched her back. He growled low in her ear, and slid his hand between them. He found her hardened nub, and with a few bold strokes, sent her soaring to the heavens. She screamed as Alex stroked her clit pushing her into the realm of orgasmic pleasure. His chest heaved, his heart pounded, his cock pulsed inside her gripping sex, and suddenly he was erupting—his seed shooting deep into her womb in a dozen hot spurts. His thunderous climax drove him to pound her harder, to shove his aching flesh deeper inside her scorching sheath. He shouted her name as he crested the fiery crescendo. He pumped into her until the wave crashed and he was milked of every last drop of essence. Alex collapsed on top of her—blissfully drained. **** 295

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Alexande came to with the distant clash of thunder. He was amazed to find not only the storm outside, but the one within himself, had eased to a distant rumble. Never had a woman given herself so completely, so passionately. Chilled, he pulled the blankets over them, before tucking her into his arms. He spooned his body around hers as they lay on their sides. Slowly, he stroked his hand up and down her back as he stared at the bleak night. He felt broken, as if his will, his defenses lay shattered about him, and yet he felt oddly whole...complete. Alex had bedded hundreds of women over the years, but never once had he experienced such explosive passion nor such utter peace. It was as though the desolate darkness which had claimed his soul, lo these many years, had been washed away by the rain of Aubri's gentle tenderness. The gods had created for him the perfect lock for the perfect key—a mate to complete his ragged half. Yet time was against them. Alex tightened his arms around her and buried his face in the soft cloud of her hair, his heart aching. He squeezed his eyes shut—he was lost. In a single moment of terrible clarity, he realized the horrible truth—he could never let her go. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Twenty-Six **** Orwald squinted against the slashing rain as his mount galloped through the stormy night, his body jolting with the pounding hooves. His breath wheezed and his heart thundered as he raced the deluge. He offered a prayer of thanks as he sighted the magnificent great house upon the hill—the lights still ablaze in the wee hours of the morning. His horse clattered across the cobblestone courtyard before slowing to a halt before the double doors. Orwald dismounted and nearly collapsed onto the ground—his jellied legs barely keeping him upright. Puffing hard, he rushed up the wide stairs and slammed the brass knocker. The door yanked open so suddenly, he nearly fell flat on his face. "What is it that we can do for you, sir?" the butler demanded as he glared at Orwald, his pointed nose tilted into the air. But Orwald was too frantic to take offence. "I need to speak with his lordship immediately. Tell him the Sheriff of Weymouth is here," he huffed, desperately drawing air into his straining lungs. The butler sniffed before slamming the door in Orwald's face, the tapping of his heels rapidly fading. Orwald leaned against the other door and waited. Damn if these servants were not as uppity as their masters! 297

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He pulled vainly on his ill fitting coat and huddled against the wailing wind and freezing rain. He was cold, soaked to the bone, and desperate for a warm fire and a drink. It seemed like an eternity before the distant click of heels reached his ears and the door opened. The butler glared down at him, not the least bit contrite. "If you will follow me, sir," he sniffed haughtily. Orwald squeezed his girth past the servant and stepped into the massive foyer, dripping all over the black and white marble tiles. The butler slammed the door shut against the grasping wind and stalked past Orwald without a backward glance. "This way please." After an endless maze of exquisite halls and galleries, they finally reached the library. Orwald was grateful to be admitted inside, for he did not think he had the strength to take another step. "The sheriff, my lord," the butler announced. "Thank you, Hadsworthe, that will be all," a deep, cultured voice lazily commanded. The butler pivoted on his heel, and promptly left the room, softly shutting the door behind him. "I must say, Orwald, you look affright." Espion sat sprawled in a padded leather chair, the black fan dangling from his elegant fingers. Even at this ungodly hour, he was impeccably attired in a lavender silk jacket and breeches, lace foaming from the cuffs and around his throat. His grey wig with its perfect curls looked freshly powered. With rouge tinting his cheeks and lips, and a layer of rice powder softening his swarthy complexion, Espion was the perfect fop. 298

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"Tell me, what has brought you out on this god-awful night?" he drawled as he lifted a snifter of brandy to his mouth. Orwald licked his lips as stared at the brandy. He was desperate for a drink. Espion flicked his fan toward the sideboard in silent invitation. Orwald teetered toward the endless bottles of spirits and poured himself a generous portion of whiskey. Carefully balancing the glass in his trembling hand, he made his way to a leather chair and sank into it before his quaking legs gave out from under him. He closed his eyes as he quaffed deeply, the whiskey's burn chasing away the cold. Spirits were heaven in a bottle. He gripped the tumbler as though it were a lifeline and sat on the edge of the seat. "My lord, I have terrible news!" Orwald exclaimed. Espion snapped open his fan with a flick of his wrist and began to lazily fan himself. "Oh?" he said with an arch of brow. "Pray, do tell." "Remember you told me to keep an eye on Ravenspur and report back to you if he did anything unusual?" Orwald asked. Espion straightened in his chair, his demeanor alert. "Yes?" "Well, it seems he learned about Le Loup docking tonight. He was there with Willy and his gang, unloading the ship as if he were just another smuggler." "Really?" "Aye, and then he went with them to St. Nicholas Church in Abbotsbury to unload the contraband. But after Seamus 299

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and his men left, he stayed behind, and Billy went after him, fearing he was sniffing around." "Indeed," Orwald hesitated to tell him the rest. "The bloody bloke killed the bastard!" he said in a rush. "Pardon?" Espion asked with a frown. "Ravenspur killed Billy, shot him dead," Orwald clarified. "What?" Espion shouted. He shot to his feet, his fan snapping shut. "Are you telling me the Rogue Marquis shot and killed the man I sent to guard the church?" "A-aye, m-my lord," Orwald stammered. "B-but that's not all." "Oh? What other delightful news have you for me, Hodgeson?" Espion demanded sarcastically. Orwald swallowed nervously and licked his bottom lip. "Ssomehow he learned about the p-papers, my lord. He t-took them and the money, right from the little ch-chest." Espion's eyes narrowed to slits as he ground his jaw together. He turned and smashed his fist against a cherry wood desk. "That damn bastard!" he bellowed. He swiped an arm across the desktop, scattering parchments and toppling an inkwell. Orwald flinched as the man gave vent to his rage, cursing, swearing, and tossing items across the room. But as abruptly as it began, his rampage ended. He straightened his silk coat and opened the fan as he strode across the chamber to the hearth. He stared in the flickering flames as he idly fanned himself. 300

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"Am I assuming correctly our spies in Bournemouth are still providing us with information?" Orwald jumped at the softly spoken query. "Y-yes." "Good." Espion glanced over his shoulder and met Orwald's gaze. "It seems we have but one option left to us," he said quietly. "We must kill Ravenspur." [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Twenty-Seven **** Alexande crossed the study to the French doors, scowling at the pale dawn light, and clasped his hands behind his back. I'm getting too old for this. He was getting too old for these cloak and dagger games. Countless times he'd laid his life on the line to protect England's secrets, or to discover the secrets of her enemies. But the thrill of the hunt, the exhilaration of a job well done, no longer excited him. He was tired of the death and the violence and the lies. He'd been forced to lie to his family, his friends, and now to Aubriana. And what would be his reward for his cunning and dedication to king and country? A knife in the back? A lead ball in the heart? Perhaps this dangerous and solitary life he'd chosen for himself was not the best path. Alex frowned. It was Aubri's fault he was questioning himself. Before her, he never questioned his life, never felt dissatisfied. But she made him yearn for more than the danger, the lovers, and the duels. She made it all seem so...trivial. He shook his head sharply. He was being a fool. These sentimental feelings were not like him. Aubri's presence had awakened desires inside him he long thought dead. And were best to remain so, for Alex 302

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could never bring himself to trust any woman, especially Aubriana. He spun away from the windows, attempting to ignore the yawning ache inside his soul. The only way to right himself was to complete this damn mission and then get the hell away from this place, and Aubri. Alex strode to the desk, determined to bury himself with work, when he halted—his gaze riveted to the desktop. What the hell? His secret documents were neatly stacked on the scarred mahogany, the latest letter from the king lying on top. His gaze flew to the bottom of the parchment where he'd noted Le Loup's arrival. "Merde!" Is that why he'd been followed last night? And who was the bloody spy? More than half of the servants at Bournemouth were suspect. Alex knew more than a few resented him for his hedonistic ways. The enemy had planted a spy in his midst and it could be anyone of the staff, including Molly. Only the handful of servants he'd brought with him from his townhouse in Cavendish Square did he trust with his life. They'd been with him too many years to betray him now. However the spy was an amateur, for only a fool would carelessly leave the documents lying about. Alexande scanned the desk, searching for clues. He paused as he caught sight of a new stain which had not been there the day before. It was a dark ring, like liquid had sloshed over 303

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the side of a cup. He leaned forward and sniffed. Tea. With cream and sugar. Alex slowly straightened as a terrible suspicion took root. He knew not of the servants, but there was one person he knew who had cream and sugar in her tea. What a bloody fool I have become! He'd fallen for one of the oldest tricks in the spy book—a beautiful woman. But he couldn't believe it, not without irrefutable proof. He marched to the door and threw it open. "Wiggins!" Immediately, his staunch butler strode into the study. Alex studied him for a moment. Wiggins seemed a little frazzled, which was unusual for the unflappable servant. "You bellowed, my lord?" Wiggins asked dryly. "Yes, I did," Alex replied coolly. He clasped his hands behind his back, and turning, strode toward the windows—his gaze locked on the butler's reflection. "Tell me, Wiggins, do you know who was in my study yesterday afternoon, after I left for the Wyatts' soiree?" Though his emotionless demeanor did not change, Wiggins looked...uncomfortable. A vein throbbed at his right temple...and did the man just swallow? In the six years the butler had served him personally, Alex had never known Wiggins to keep anything from him—until now. "I was wondering, because someone carelessly left a ring of tea upon my mahogany desk. And since it dried overnight, it will take a maid a devil of time to get it out." Alex turned and gestured to the ring and the papers. 304

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Wiggins' brow furrowed with dismay. "Oh dear." He hurried over to examine the stain, but when his gaze fell on the secret documents, he blanched. When he straightened, his gaze was guarded. "I'll have it taken care of right away, my lord." He bowed, before turning on his heel and striding toward the door. He seemed a little too eager to leave. "Wiggins." Alex halted him in mid-stride. Slowly, the butler pivoted on his heel and raised a dubious brow. "You did not answer my question. Who was in here yesterday afternoon?" Wiggins' Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "Why Mrs. Fulthrop and Miss Welbery, my lord." Alexande closed his eyes as his suspicions erupted, taunting him for his softer emotions. It was not the first time one of his enemies had sent a woman to him. To seduce him with her feminine wiles, to steal his heart, and capture his very soul. But it was the first time he'd been duped. He curled his fists and clenched his jaw to contain his rage. Inhaling several deep breaths, he managed to rein his temper. Slowly he opened his eyes and glared at his butler who had turned a distinct shade of white. "Send a footman to fetch Miss Welbery. I want to see her in my study, immediately," he growled through gritted teeth. Wiggins nodded, and swallowed. "Right away, my lord." Yet he hesitated. "My lord, if I may—" "Now!" 305

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"As you wish, my lord." Wiggins turned on his heel and walked crisply from the room. "Bloody hell," Alex cursed. He couldn't believe the butler had been about to interfere. Was everyone wrapped around Aubri's dainty little finger? Alexande paced before the hearth, his fury mounting with each pass. How dare the chit seduce me, then spy on me for my enemies! Though he rarely lost his temper, Aubriana was about to learn just how dangerous it was to trifle with him. Damn, damn, damn! A terrible ache blossomed in his heart at the thought of her perfidy. A deep pain lanced through an old wound which still festered in his soul. How could he have let himself believe she was any different? Aubriana was just like every other deceitful bitch...just like his mother... Alex squeezed his eyes tight, fighting against the memory he was desperate to forget, but was cursed to always remember... **** Alexande rode into the yard, sweat trickling down his brow and stinging his eyes. His linen shirt clung to his sweat dampened chest. He dismounted with the ease of a man born to the saddle. Blitzen leaned into his hand as he rubbed the stallion's muzzle. Both of them were winded from their long, hard ride. He'd needed to get away from this place...away from his mother. 306

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"Master Alexande!" Alex turned, shocked to find Wiggins racing toward him, his eyes wide with fear. The staunch, cool butler was in complete disarray—his hair mussed, his clothes tussled, it looked as though he'd been in a scuffle. "What is it man?" Alex demanded. Wiggins halted before him, his chest heaving as he inhaled great gulps of air. "'Tis her ladyship," he gasped. "She must be stopped!" That's when Alex heard the keen wail of agony. Dread sunk like a stone into the pit of his stomach. "Hurry...please," the butler pleaded. Alex tore across the yard to the huge great house. His mind reeling with possibilities. He burst into the kitchen. The kitchen staff were huddled together, the cook trying to consol the two young maids crying in his arms. Alex's alarm grew as he raced past them. Another pained cry reverberated through the house. He ran up the servant stairs, taking the steps two at a time. Finally, he reached the main hall, a huge, circular chamber which was the hub of the Georgian mansion. The shrieks of pain were louder now, and were preceded by the rhythmic crack of leather. He spun around desperate to pinpoint the source of the screams. His mother's private parlor! Alexande darted up the main stairs as though his heels were on fire, his heart pumping wildly. He raced along the 307

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gallery until he reached the room—the door firmly shut and locked. He didn't waste time knocking, not with the cries echoing through the portal, and the sound of another sobbing. He rammed his shoulder into the door, each shout of pain filling him with desperation. The frame cracked...suddenly the door gave and Alex stumbled into the room. The scene before him turned his blood to ice. His younger brother, Deavon, was bent over his mother's secretary, his back bare, his breeches down around his knees. And the brute of a footman their mother employed for her children's punishment was whipping Deavon's back with a riding crop. His brother's flesh had been stripped until it was raw and bleeding, his body jerking with each lash, his agonized cries filling the room. Elizabeth, his sweet baby sister, sat huddled in the corner, sobbing into her hands—hands and arms which were covered with angry red welts. And his mother, Lady Rosalind Telford, the Marchioness of Ravenspur, stood in the centre of the storm, a picture of serene, pale perfection in a robe of white silk and lace. Her beautiful face was devoid of any flicker of emotion as she watched as her son was whipped with every ounce of the brute's strength. "What is the meaning of this?" Alex roared. His mother glanced at him. "Do not interfere," she said softly. But her eyes...her eyes were filled with a queer light— a tinge of madness. 308

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"Damnation! I will not stand by and allow Deavon to be whipped!" Alexande started forward and was abruptly halted as his mother's arm came up and in her hand was a flintlock. "I said, do not interfere," Rosalind hissed as she cocked the hammer. Alex stared at his mother, paralyzed with shock. His beautiful mother was threatening to shoot him. He could hardly believe it. He knew she'd never wanted him or Deavon, had never loved them—only James, their perfect, eldest brother had earned their parent's love. They had merely been spares. And Elizabeth had been the long awaited daughter, a plaything for their mother to dress up and display to her friends. But Alex had always loved his mother. For years, he'd tried to please her, hoping that maybe once, just once she would share an ounce of her love with him, instead of lavishing it upon her many lovers, lovers who only used her for as long as it pleased them before tossing her aside for the next woman to bestow her favors. Whereas Alex had loved her unconditionally, would have never left her for another. But ever she showed him the cold shoulder, denying him what should have been reserved for her children. Now there was a wildness in her crystal green eyes, as though a storm brewed within—a storm of fury and madness. The brute had halted in mid-stroke, his gaze wary as he stared at Alex.

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Rosalind swung the gun toward the footman. "Don't stop!" she ordered, her voice rising in pitch. He turned back, and lashed Deavon's thighs with brutal force. White hot rage burst in Alexande—he could not allow this to go on for another moment! "NO!" The word roared from his lungs as he lurched forward, his hands curled into fists. He would beat the bastard to a bloody pulp if he didn't cease this instant! The gun reported, the explosion deafening. Elizabeth screamed. Alex jerked back as something smacked into his shoulder, nearly knocking him off his feet. He stumbled, his mind reeling. Slowly, he turned and stared at his mother—blinking in confusion. She stood unmoving with the gun in her hand as smoke curled and undulated from the muzzle before dissipating into the air. Rosalind's eyes were wide with astonishment. Alexande stared at her, stunned as the terrible realization broke through his stupor—his mother had shot him. The strength drained from his body like a rushing waterfall, and he crumpled to his knees. Tears burned his eyes as he stared up at her. Elizabeth rushed to his side, but he hardly registered her sobs or her frantic touch. All he could do was stare at this mother. Hot tears rolled down his cheeks. "I loved you," he whispered. The room went dark then, and he crumpled to the rug. **** 310

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Alexande opened his eyes, his heart thundering. He clenched his fists so tight, his knuckles were white, the nails biting into the flesh of his palm. The secret longing of a boy, his undying love for his mother, died that day. And in its place grew an ice cold ball of rage. And why had his bitch of a mother shot him? Why was Deavon beaten? Young, beautiful Elizabeth had been caught kissing Markus, the stable boy of nineteen summers. It had been nothing more than an innocent peck on the lips. But Rosalind had become so enraged by the news, she'd had her daughter dragged into the parlor and whipped by the footman. Deavon had heard his sister's cries and come rushing to her rescue. He'd begged and pleaded for their mother to stop. Rosalind had become so furious with Deavon's interference, she'd ordered the brute to lash Deavon until he bled. No one knew precisely when she retrieved the gun. It was later that Alex realized the truth—Rosalind had been jealous of her own daughter—insanely jealous—for Elizabeth at eight years of age was already a stunning beauty, a beauty that would one day outshine her mother's. And the stable boy had been one of Rosalind's many lovers. He still had the scar of the bullet hole, though ten years later it was hardly visible. But the scar of his mother's betrayal ran deep in his soul—a raw open wound he feared would never heal. His distrust of women began that day. 311

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And Alex had been an utter and complete fool to believe Aubriana was any different from his mother, from every other woman in this world. Aubri was just another beguiling bitch! He did not doubt for a moment she was the spy. Her brother was a known smuggler, her family destitute, and she had been seen in the study last night. What more proof did he need? But why hadn't she returned the papers to their hiding place, as she had every other time? Had she been interrupted? And if so by whom? Why hadn't anyone reported it to him? And why hadn't she replaced the documents after the interruption? It made no sense. Someone cleared their throat. Alex glanced up to find Wiggins standing on the threshold—looking very grave. His rage drained and his heart clenched tight—for one terrible moment, Alex feared the butler was about to announce Aubri was missing. Gone. Vanished. What will I do without her? He squelched the weakness as quickly as it had appeared. He didn't need her or anyone for that matter. "My lord, I thought you might like to know, a guest has arrived. Lord Huntley awaits you in the parlor," Wiggins announced. Acute relief washed through him, even as Alex scowled. "Damnation!" Who would have thought Hunter would have 312

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taken him up on his feigned offer? Even so, Hunter was the last person he wanted to see right now. "Very well, I shall meet him shortly." [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Twenty-Eight **** Denton Thomas Milenthorpe, the fourth Marquis of Huntley—Hunter as he was known by his friends—stood with his back to the door, idly gazing at the exquisite decor of the drawing-room. He paused as his gaze fell upon the painted portrait of a lovely young woman lounging on a fainting couch. There was something vaguely familiar about her, yet he was sure he'd never seen her before. Denton turned as the door opened, admitting his friend. "Ravenspur, old man, bloody good to see you!" he declared as he strode forward and clasped Alexande's hand. "Likewise, Hunter. What the bloody hell are you doing here anyway?" Alex questioned good-naturedly. Denton grinned. "Well, you did invite me if I ever came down this way." Though they both knew it had been a beau geste, his interest had been piqued. Denton had been Ravenspur's second in his now infamous duel with Earl of Whittingham. The whole situation had been damn strange. All the ton was aware of Whittingham's insouciant attitude concerning his wife—he didn't give a damn about her many affairs—considering he was a renowned womanizer. Yet, when he'd caught Ravenspur and Lady Whittingham at a masquerade, the earl had loudly and publicly called Alexande out. And during the duel, the earl had fought with the zeal of a jealous husband...or a murderous opponent. Of course, 314

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Denton needn't have worried, for all the years he'd been Alex's second, never once had he been forced to take Alex's place—for the duels always ended with Ravenspur. Alexande snorted, and walked to the sideboard. "Come now, Hunter, you never come out to the country before a Season is over." Denton laughed as he settled on the settee and stretched out his long legs. He accepted the tumbler of whiskey with a nod of thanks. "Frankly, I was curious to know what was keeping you out here, when there are those waiting for you back in London, let alone Yorkshire." Another thing which had bothered Denton greatly— Alexande leaving London immediately after the duel. Ravenspur never ran away from anything, and certainly not a duel which only succeeded in making his reputation darker and more dangerous. The fact he'd run straight to Bournemouth Hall was doubly odd. Denton knew precisely how much Alex hated his grandfather; the very fact he'd not opened the great house in the fourteen years since the Earl of Winton's death told it all. It smacked of conspiracy—of king and country and all that rot. But then Denton's reasons for being in Weymouth were far from pure. He was on a mission, in fact, and this was much more than a friendly visit. Alex sat in the plush over chair across from the sofa, and crossed his legs at the ankle. "How is Elizabeth?" A little thrill of dread shot through him, but Denton ignored it. If Ravenspur had any idea of what his sister was up to, or 315

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that Denton had had a hand in helping her, Alex would kill him. "Elizabeth's fine. Though I doubt she's very pleased about rattling around in the old castle all by herself," he hastened to reply before changing the subject. "Never once in the years I've known you have you ever visited this place. It's a bloody mausoleum!" Alexande stared at him for a silent moment, but Denton remained cool. "I thought it was about time I came and took a look at my inheritance," Ravenspur replied casually. Denton's eyes narrowed. "Somehow I doubt very much you want to spend time in the bastard's home when he wouldn't even give you the time of day...because you were the second son." Alexande tensed for a moment, before shrugging. "Something of an urgency was called to my attention, there was little I could do about it." Denton nodded. He'd been right. Ravenspur was on a mission involving the king and probably Newcastle. "Ahh, one of those emergencies. That certainly explains it. By the way, Lizzie sends her love. I must warn you she's pouting because you up and left with still three months of the Season left." Alexande stared at Denton for a moment, before relaxing. "I trust you've been keeping her company." Denton chuckled. "Of course." "Bastard," Alex cursed half-heartedly. Lizzie was a beautiful, intelligent, and exceptionally talented actress, both in and out of bed. She was also 316

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Ravenspur's mistress. Not that Alex should mind. Denton and Alexande had always had an unspoken pact—whenever one of them was out of the city, the other kept their mistress company. Just then the parlor door opened. Denton turned and his voice died in mid-reply. Standing in the doorway was the most stunning beauty he'd ever seen. Alexande turned in his chair and silently cursed as his gaze fell upon Aubriana. He'd wanted her to wait in his study. But knowing his mood, Wiggins must have sent her in hopes of diffusing his anger—meddling butler! Alex rose from his seat and noted Hunter's delayed response. Of course, Aubri hadn't a clue she'd caused such a stir. She glanced at him uncertainly. "Forgive me, my lord," she said softly, "but you wanted to see me?" Alex's eyes narrowed. My lord? What the bloody hell was that all about? "Miss Welbery, let me introduce you to a friend of mine. This is Lord Denton Milenthorpe, Marquis of Huntley." His cool tone made her flinch. "Hunter, this is Miss Welbery." Aubri curtsied to Hunter. "Nice to meet you, my lord," she returned, before casting a nervous glance in Alexande's direction. So she suspects I'm angry with her, does she? She couldn't even begin to guess the depth of his fury. Hunter strode across the room and took her hand. "The pleasure is all mine, I assure you, Miss Welbery," he said as 317

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he executed a courtly bow. He brought her hand to his lips, before straightening. Aubriana's eyes widened in surprise, and a becoming blush tinted her cheeks. Alexande bristled. The bloody bastard knew how to sweep a woman off her feet and into his bed in the blink of an eye. "I have never given much thought to this part of the country before, but I can certainly see why Ravenspur finds it attractive," Hunter murmured as he continued to hold her hand and gaze into her eyes. Alexande ground his teeth together as Aubri stared up at his friend like a lovesick puppy. "Aubriana," he said, finally gaining her attention. Her cheeks flamed when she noticed his ire, and she hastily pulled her hand from Hunter's grasp. "Yes, my lord?" she asked hesitantly. Alex's eyes narrowed at her choice of words. "Why don't you bring us some tea?' He barely contained his growl. "Yes, of course." She turned to Hunter. "If you will excuse me?" A roguish smile curved Hunter's mouth. "But of course, mademoiselle. I eagerly await your return." Without a word, she turned and left. Hunter sauntered to the settee and sat down, his smile broadening. "Ah, now I understand the urgency which has brought you to Bournemouth," he said with a knowing chuckle. Alex threw himself into his chair, and turned the full force of his scowl on his friend—it had been known to make lesser men tremble. But it only made Hunter laugh all the harder. 318

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"I didn't even know she existed until my arrival." But when I did, I got her into my bed as quickly as possible. Hunter leaned forward, a devilish gleam dancing in his eyes. "Would you mind if I had a little...taste? I have not sampled such delectable innocence for a very long time. I find her to be a rather choice morsel." He looked like a wolf licking his chops. Fury exploded in Alexande at his friend's request. His male pride pricked, he nearly launched himself across the room to wrap his hands around Hunter's neck and throttle him—or better yet, pummel his pretty face to a bloody pulp. He gripped the armrests, nearly tearing the fabric, as he struggled for restraint. "Yes," Alex hissed through gritted teeth. "I mind very much so. And if you know what is good for you, you will stay the hell away from her!" Hunter's eyes widened in astonishment. After a moment, he leaned back—his expression thoughtful. Surprised himself, Alex released the armrests and wondered at his own actions—it was definitely out of sorts. He'd never before cared if Hunter slept with one of his mistresses or lovers, like Lizzie for example—he couldn't give a damn Hunter was sleeping with her in his absence. In fact, in their younger, wilder days, they'd even had orgies together, often sharing a woman, or women, at the same time. Yet the thought of Hunter flirting or touching Aubriana had turned him into a snarling beast. 319

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"So that is the way of it," Hunter commented softly, chuckling to himself. Alex scowled. "What the bloody hell are you talking about?" he demanded. Hunter looked at him and grinned. "If you don't know, I'm not about to spoil it for you." Before Alex could reply with a scathing retort, Aubriana walked into the room, followed by a footman pushing the tea service. She smiled nervously. "I brought some tea, of course, but I thought you gentlemen might like something a little stronger, so there's coffee as well." She turned to the footman. "Thank you, William, that will be all." "Aye, ma'am," the footman replied with a crisp bow, and left the room. "How very thoughtful you are, mademoiselle," Hunter commented with his usual charm. "I would delight in coffee, black if you please." "Of course, my lord," she replied cheerfully. She turned to Alex. "What would you like, my lord?" "Coffee. Black," he bit out. Her smile faltered. "Yes, my lord," she demurred as she went about serving them. She poured herself a cup of tea with cream and sugar, Alexande noted. "So tell me, Miss Welbery, do you live around here?" Hunter asked as he patted the settee. At least Aubriana had the good sense to sit on the far end of the sofa. "Yes. I've lived here all my life." 320

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"Her family is one of my tenant farmers," Alex commented. She blushed with embarrassment, her gaze downcast. Alex curled a hand into a fist—he had thoughtlessly embarrassed her. Yet Hunter's smile broadened. "I've always had high regard for those who have the spirit and tenacity to work the land with their hands. I dare say we would all be better people if we were as down to earth as you and your family." Alex stared at him, having never heard such drivel spill from his friend's lips. And Aubri seemed only too eager to gobble it up. "Tell me, how many generations has your family worked for the Earls of Winton?" "Actually, my father was a valet before he came with my mother to Weymouth, and inherited the farm from his uncle. But from what I gather, the Welberys have been farming this land for well over four hundred years," Aubri responded with a small smile. "Fascinating." Hunter stared at her in rapt attention. As his friend coaxed another smile from her lovely lips, Alexande knew another surge of unreasonable anger. Didn't the bastard realize she belonged to him? Turmoil rolled through his heart, and something deep and primal awakened inside of him. His eyes narrowed as Aubri laughed at one of Hunter's witticisms. Why did she have to be so stunningly beautiful? He watched as Hunter's gaze darted all over her, and lingered on her breasts, displayed so enticingly by the deep 321

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decolletage of her gown—which Alex had ordered for her. He should be the only one to benefit, not Hunter! He wanted to drag Aubri onto his lap and claim her before his friend and the whole bloody world! Begrudgingly, Alexande understood Aubri's possible fascination with his friend. The man was supposedly warm and charming. He'd even had one of Hunter's lovers tell him no woman could possibly resist his friend, not with "his goldchestnut hair; his laughing eyes; refined, handsome face, and athletic body." Alex had barely refrained from rolling his eyes. Why did women become such besotted fools when it came to an attractive face? Alexande was never going to fall for that trap! Finally, Hunter finished his coffee and rose from his seat. You'd think the bastard would notice the warning signals Alex had been sending for the last hour—but no! "It was a delight to meet you, Miss Welbery," Hunter murmured before capturing her hand for another kiss. "Indeed, my lord," Aubri replied with a warm smile. "It was a pleasure. I've never spoken with any of his lordship's friends before." Hunter chuckled knowingly—the bastard. "Indeed, mademoiselle." Alexande's eyes narrowed. She was not going to be meeting any more of his roguish friends either—not until he'd well and truly claimed her. His friend straightened, and looked deep into her eyes. "Would you mind if I were to call upon you again sometime?" he asked politely. 322

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Aubriana was completely surprised by the request and looked at Alexande uncertainly. Alex growled and took a menacing step forward when he suddenly stopped himself. He'd never felt so possessive of a woman in his life! "Perhaps," she replied shyly. "Ah, what a delightful word—perhaps—so full of hope and mystery," Hunter returned with a grin. He turned to Alex then and clapped him on the shoulder. "We'll have to do this again soon, eh?" Without waiting for a response, Hunter strode toward the door. He paused as he reached it and turned back to them. "I bid you adieu!" And then, to Alexande's relief, the rogue was gone. **** Alex examined Aubri's profile. The possessive anger had lessened, yet the beast still lingered. What just happened? He'd never behaved that way around any woman before in his life. But then Aubriana was exceptional—never before in all his years as a rake had he beheld a more beautiful nor innocent woman. He felt a twinge of shame for embarrassing her. It had been his intention to lessen her attraction in Hunter's eyes, but all he'd accomplished was to make an ass of himself. He should have known his friend wouldn't give a damn. Like 323

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himself, Hunter had bedded women from all stations of society—from ladies to barmaids. But Alex also knew a terrible fear—at first opportunity Hunter would sweep Aubri off her feet! His heart froze at the alarming thought, all the warmth bleeding from his soul. He couldn't bear to lose her! Alex was stunned by the admission. I can't bear to lose her? This was not like him at all. This was not the same man who could bed a woman and take his leave. Who didn't give a damn about the trail of broken hearts he'd left in his wake. Women had only one use—to provide pleasure. And with the exception of his sister, could not be trusted. And yet here he was, drowning in confusion and agony at the thought of losing Aubriana. Could this sweet, innocent girl really be a spy? The great house was huge after all. Wiggins could have easily missed someone sneaking into his study. Why had he instantly jumped to the conclusion she was the spy? Alexande suspected he'd let her get too close. No woman had ever gotten so deep under his skin. And frankly, it scared him. He slid into his chair and felt a keen need to hold her. "Aubriana, come here," he commended. Slowly she turned to face him, anxiety marring her lovely visage. Of course she was fearful, he'd treated her shabbily. "Come here," he repeated low. 324

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She swallowed and slowly walked toward him. Did she dread him so much? She halted between his splayed knees. Alex reached out and gently tugged her onto his lap. She sat across his thighs, her back stiff, her hands resting demurely on her skirts, and avoided his gaze. Grasping her chin, he gently forced her to look at him. Pain, worry and confusion lingered in her eyes, mirroring the turmoil roiling through his own heart. He slid his fingers into her hair, and wrapping his hand around her narrow waist, pulled her to him for a kiss. She hesitated as their lips touched, but he angled his mouth over hers. He coaxed her lips apart and slipped his tongue inside to taste of her sweetness. Their kiss was long and slow and languid. Yet it was a moment before he tasted the saltiness of her tears. Alex pulled back in surprise. Silent tears coursed down her pale cheeks in silver rivulets. Why does she cry? It broke his heart to see her like thus. Did she too realize they had gone beyond lord and mistress? Did she understand they could never be anything more than they were now? Sorrow squeezed his chest. But even if he could bring himself to trust her, to actually marry her would be a disaster. The scandal alone would destroy her—farmers' daughters and marquises did not marry! And the first time she was cut in public, Alex would call the person out in a fit of rage. He didn't even want to think what would happen to their children. 325

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No, it was better to savor what they had now, for it was all the fates had allotted them. Alexande wrapped her in his arms and pulled her against him. She clung to him and buried her face against his chest. Quietly she sobbed, and his heart mourned—for what they both knew could never be. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Twenty-Nine **** Wringing her hands in agitation, her heart beating a frantic refrain, Aubriana paced before the cold hearth. She couldn't do this anymore. Yesterday, when Alexande had ordered her to his study, Aubri had been terrified he'd discovered she'd spied on him the night before. That she had been spying on him all these many weeks. But when Wiggins had directed her to the drawing-room and she'd faced nothing more serious than meeting Alex's roguish friend, she'd been so relieved she'd wept in Alexande's arms. It was then she realized she couldn't spy on him anymore, couldn't continue to lie and deceive him when she loved him so much. It didn't matter he was a traitor, she had to end this. Unable to trust her contact—who could possibly trust Mrs. Fulthrop—Aubri had sent a missive directly to the sheriff calling for a private meeting after midnight. She'd gotten her reply in the post today—she was to meet Hodgeson at an abandoned farmer's cottage, tonight. All day long she'd been sick with the thought of her meeting. She'd been so ill in fact, she'd nearly called off this evening's tryst with Alexande. But that would have only made him suspicious. It was a credit to Alex's masterful skill in bed, and her deep love for him, that she'd been able to forget for a few short hours what she was about to do. 327

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And for the first time since becoming his mistress, Aubriana had feared Alex wasn't going to leave. Much to Aubri's distress, Alex always left her in the night once she fell asleep in his arms. How many countless times had she awoken in the middle of the night to find him gone, only to cry herself to sleep? She'd give anything to keep him with her the entire night; it was an intimacy Alexande seemed unwilling to share. But tonight she was grateful. She'd lain awake in his arms, pretending sleep and waited endlessly for him to slip from her bed, but finally he had. Somewhere in the house a clock chimed. Eleven-thirty. Aubri's breath hitched as she snuck across the bedroom into the sitting room, mindful of Alexande's suite next door to hers, and the connecting door between. She held her breath as she reached the portal and pressed an ear to the sitting room door. Nothing. She could hear nothing. She prayed to the gods she did not run into the Alexande or anyone else for that matter, for it would be impossible to explain why she was dressed for riding in the middle of the night. With clammy fingers, Aubri pulled the portal open and stepped into the corridor. Silence and darkness. Slowly she crept through the mansion, pausing every now and then to listen. Finally she made it to the stables. Gently she awoke Pippa before forcing her to take the bit. With her 328

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mare harnessed only with a bridle, Aubri mounted the dapple grey's bare back and urged the horse into a gallop. Aubriana slowed Pippa to a walk as they reached the abandoned cottage. The dilapidated house leaned to one side; a huge gaping hole welcomed the silver rays of the moon. There was not a sound or even a light peeking through the empty windows. With the crumbling barn standing fifty yards away, Aubri would have thought she'd come to the wrong place if not for the nag grazing outside the cottage. She halted her mare and dismounted. Making her way around the house, she paused before the closed door. Cautiously, she pushed it open, the rusted hinges creaking in protest. "Hello?" she called tentatively. "Is anyone in here—" Aubri gasped as a hand snaked out of the gloom and yanked her into the house. "Have you no sense, gal?" Sheriff Hodgeson demanded as he released her and walked away. Aubriana swallowed down her heart and waited for her eyes to adjust to soft moonlight and stark shadows. The sheriff stood in the middle of the ramshackle room, looking decidedly more agitated than she felt. His wig sat askew on his bald pate, sweat beaded on his forehead, and he nervously licked his plump bottom lip. He pulled a flask from his coat pocket and downed a quick drink before replacing it. "Now tell me what is the bloody meaning of this?" Hodgeson barked, causing her to jump. Yet beneath the sheriff's bluster, Aubriana sensed fear. "I..I..." she stammered, her stomach twisting with dread. 329

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"Come on gal, speak up." Aubri was sickened to the core of her being. Butterflies fluttered, her pulsed hammered, her breath quickened, blood rushed to her brain. Now that the moment was at hand, she was frightened, but she had to do this. She had to end the deceit now, to save herself and Alexande. She inhaled a calming breath, and stiffening her spine, stared straight into the sheriff's beady eyes. "I want out." The sheriff stared, his ruddy complexion paling in the cool moonlight. "What the bloody hell do you mean by that?" "I don't want to spy for you anymore." "You're in love with him," a deep, gravelly voice stated from out of the gloom. Aubri's heart leapt into her throat, a soft exhalation escaping her lips. She peered past the sheriff, searching the darkness left untouched by the moonlight. It took her a moment to find the broad shouldered shadow standing with his back to her and Hodgeson. "Yes...I mean no. I-I can't do this anymore. I can't stand lying to him. I just can't!" Aubri clamped her mouth shut as a deep chuckle floated into the room—she'd said too much. "Ah, the folly of youth. There is no use lying, Miss Welbery, you are in love with Ravenspur." "What does that matter?" she boldly replied. Her gaze darted to Hodgeson. "The sheriff lied to me. He's as corrupt as the smugglers. I've seen the reports." Hodgeson sputtered in protest, but was cut off by the shadow's raspy reply. "And you think Ravenspur is so pure?" 330

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Aubri swallowed. She knew Alexande wasn't, in fact, he was far worse. But if she could live with her brother being a smuggler and a murderer, then she could live with Alexande. Her silence seemed answer enough. "You know something," came the gravely response. "You know Sheriff Hodgeson was right." "Who are you?" Aubriana demanded. She was incensed. "How dare you speak to me of these things. I didn't come to speak to you but the sheriff." "You are treading on thin ice, little girl," came a raspy growl. But Aubri didn't care. "I want to know who you are. And why are you standing with your back to me. What are you, afraid?" There was a sharp snap in the gloom. And in one motion, the shadow spun around, stepped into the moonlight, and wrapped a hand around her throat. Aubriana yelped, terrified. "Afraid? Tell me, which one of us is afraid now, Miss Welbery?" He sneered. A dark eye glared at her from beneath his tricorn. She could see nothing of his face, hidden behind a large black fan he held with his other hand. She tried speak, but he squeezed, cutting off her air supply. "You think I don't know you're in love with him? I know everything, Miss Welbery. I know you spread your lovely thighs for Ravenspur each and every night. And I know what you've read in his secret documents, which you've failed to report, I might add. But you will listen to me." He shook 331

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her hard, once. His fingers tightened as he lifted her off the ground. Gasping for breath, Aubriana clawed at the hand wrapped around throat, but to no avail. "You will continue to serve me without complaint. You will continue to distract Ravenspur. And you will spy, lie, cheat and deceive for me, Miss Welbery. Because if you do not, I will find your brother, Bram, and I will hand him over to the authorities and I will see him hanged." No! He must know Bram murdered Sir Dunn. She couldn't let her brother die. Aubriana struggled against her assailant, her feet flailing, but she could feel herself weakening. Her vision swam before her eyes, her lungs burned, and her world began to darken. "Espion, stop! You're killing her," the sheriff cried as he placed a podgy hand on the man's arm. In the next moment she was released. Aubri crumpled to the floor, inhaling great gulps of air. She doubled over, her body wracked with a coughing fit. "Serve me, and your brother will live. I'll be watching you." [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Thirty **** Aubriana awoke well rested. She arched her back and stretched. Her body tingled pleasantly from Alexande's passionate love play of the night before. How she yearned to be encompassed in his arms again. She turned her head and slowly opened her eyes, but already she knew what she would find—he was gone, as always. Disappointment, keen and sharp, cut through her. Would there ever be anything more between them? Or would she always remain his mistress? Since the disastrous meeting with the Sheriff and Espion, Aubri realized she was spying for Alexande's enemy. For whatever reason, Espion despised Alex. She had seen the fury burning in that dark eye—the hatred. And as Espion had held her in his grasp, she'd seen her death written in his gaze. If not for the sheriff... And what was worse, Alex had noticed the dark bruises ringing her neck and had questioned her. She'd been forced to lie—she'd fallen from her horse and hurt herself that morning. Though Aubri had seen the doubt in his eyes, he'd not questioned her further. She shuddered, not wanting to think back on that terrible moment with Espion. She was haunted by it in her dreams; she did not want to remember on such a fine morning. Hastily she dismissed those dark thoughts, not wanting anything to 333

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spoil the coming evening. For tonight, she would be attending her first masquerade ball at Alexande's side. Aubri sat up and pulled the covers around her shoulders. Morning light streamed through the French doors, filling her chamber with a soft orange glow. She could hardly contain her glee. She had been absolutely taken aback when Alex interrupted her dancing lesson with Monsieur Neusom, to invite her to the ball. She'd been so excited by the prospect, she'd flung her arms around him and kissed him right before her dance instructor and Mrs. Fulthrop—who was forced to play the piano whenever Aubri had a dance lesson. Though Aubriana had been worried, Alexande had assured her no one could possibly know who she was, as everyone would be disguised. She'd spent the last week perfecting all the dances, her manners, everything she would need to play the part of a lady. Alex had even commissioned his live-in modiste, Madame Munford, to create a special gown for the ball alone. Today she would have the final fitting, and Aubri could hardly wait to wear the magnificent creation tonight. The door to her chamber opened, and Molly came bustling in, lugging a load of wood in her apron. She knelt before the hearth and began stacking the kindling. "Good morning," Aubri greeted cheerfully. Molly shrieked. Jumping up, she spun around and glared. "Bloody hell, Aubri. Ye nearly gave me an apoplexy." Aubriana could barely contain her laughter. Normally, she was asleep when Molly came in to stoke the fire. "I'm sorry," she replied with an impish grin. 334

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Molly rolled her eyes. "Sorry my arse," she grumbled good-naturedly. She turned round to complete the chore. "Oh, I truly am. I just couldn't sleep, not with the ball tonight." Molly stoked the fire and stood. A wistful smile curved her lips. "Ah dove, to be in yer shoes. Yer goin' to look like a fairy princess, I tells ye. I saw the gown. Peacock satin skirts, quilted petticoats of shimmerin' gold, a stomacher covered in hundreds of crystal beads. Even the mask is gold, framed with peacock feathers. I've never seen nothin' so beautiful." Aubriana's stomach flipped in anticipation and dread. "I'm afraid I won't be able to pull it off." Molly waved away her concerns. "Don't be daft. Ye've been practicin' those dances for weeks, and ye already have the manners of a lady. If there's one thing I've learned, is that people see what they want. If they think yer a lady, then ye'll be one in their eyes. Now stop yer blatherin' and let me get yer chocolate." With that, Molly left the chambers. It was not long before Molly returned with a silver tray containing a cup of steaming, creamy chocolate and a white rose. Aubri took the rose and inhaled its heady fragrance, her heart flip-flopping in her chest for she knew it was from Alexande. Setting it aside, she sipped her chocolate and contemplated its meaning. In the language of flowers, a white rose meant admiration and respect. Does he hold any affection for me in his heart? For the last month, she'd been torturing herself with such thoughts. They caused her emotions to swing wildly—one 335

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moment she would feel joyous at the thought of his growing affection for her, and the next she despaired of him ever caring for her. Her own love for Alex had grown at an alarming rate, and she feared once all was said and done, she would be the one left with a shattered heart. Though it was unpleasant, she had to remind herself, she was nothing more than his paid mistress—as evident by the leather pouch of coins which arrived with her morning chocolate every Saturday. She meant nothing to him. Aubri swallowed the sudden lump of grief rising in her throat. She was not going to let such foolish thoughts get to her, not on this very special day. But the truth of the matter was they shared nothing but marvelous sex. **** Aubriana watched as Molly came in with a large bundle of thick strips of cotton and began stacking them in the top draw of her bureau. "What are you doing?" Molly glanced at her as if she'd lost her mind. "Why I'm stacking the pads for yer monthly, of course." Her monthly? When was the last time she had her cycle? For a long time, Aubri sat there trying to remember. Her heart froze as a wave of dread assailed her. No! It couldn't be. Her stomach churned at the terrible thought.

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She threw back the covers and sprang from the bed, disregarding her nakedness. She walked to the bureau and rummaged through the top drawer. She had to be wrong! "Dove, ye'll catch yerself a bleedin' cold walkin' around like that," Molly admonished as she helped Aubri don her velvet robe. Ahh, finally her journal. She snatched it from her delicates and skimmed to the last page. March 5 was the last time she'd bled and now it was May 15. She was over two months late. Her monthly was never late...which could only mean one thing. "Dove, are ye all right?" Molly asked. "Yer lookin' rather pale." "I-I'm fine," Aubriana replied absently. Molly guided her to a chair near the fire. "Ye don't look the least bit of fine, dove. Now tell me what's wrong." The truth turned her blood to ice and her legs to jelly. "I'm with child," Aubriana whispered. Molly's eyes rounded. "Och, dove," she crooned as she crouched before Aubri. "It was to be expected." Aubri stared at her flabbergasted as a mixture of horror and rapture flooded her veins. Jumping up from the chair, she began to pace before the fire. "What do you mean it's to be expected?" Molly slowly rose to her feet, her kind face filled with solemn understanding. "He's bedded ye for the last couple of 337

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months," she said gently. "If he's spilled his seed in ye at all, ye were goin' to get caught." Aubriana shook her head, desperate to ignore the truth, but there was no hiding from it. She was carrying the child of the man she loved—a man she was betraying. A man who was a murderer and a traitor. And now he had planted his seed in her womb. She'd never known anything so joyous or dreadful in her life. But what future did she or her babe have? Once the community found out, she would be ostracized from the village. And despite her father's words, she was not entirely sure how her family would react. And Alexande would never marry her. Nor could she ever tell him of his child. If he knew, he would take it away from her to be raised by his servants as his heir. But as a murderer and traitor, all that was in store for Alex was a hanging, which would leave the child fatherless and destitute. No, she could not bear to be parted from her child, nor could she allow her babe to be exposed to Alex's world. She had to keep it safe. Maybe she would go far away, and pose as a widow. She would raise the child herself, and never inform it of its heritage until Alex's passing. For surely her beloved Alexande would die at the end of a rope...or at the hands of Espion. A sob escaped her at the thought of him dying while never knowing of the child they had made. "What am I going to do," Aubri whispered. 338

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Molly looked at her, her gaze filled with understanding. "Dove, ye'll do what is best for ye and the babe, as all women have done." [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Thirty-One **** A thousand flickering candles cast their glow on the faeries, nymphs, queens, kings, princesses, and knights dancing to the ethereal strains of an orchestra nestled high in the open gallery of the ballroom. The ladies in their magnificent gowns and sparkling jewels looked like colorful blossoms. Some swayed in the arms of their handsome partners, while others laughed and conversed or sampled the vast array of culinary delights artfully displayed upon the magnificent buffet. It was like stepping into a dream, or one of the fantastic tales Aubriana had read as a child. But with so many crowding the huge ballroom, Aubri feared she might suffocate, if not for the huge French doors thrown wide to welcome the cool night air. Upon the terrace guests mingled, or wandered the gardens beyond, lit by twinkling lights, as if the very stars had been plucked from the heavens to illuminate the winding paths on this special night. With her hand on Alexande's arm, and adorned in Madame Munford's magnificent creation, she felt like a faery princess come to life. Alex had even gifted her with diamonds and sapphires to glitter upon her throat, wrists, and ears. And in his low crowned hat and black velvet mask, burgundy velvet surcoat, tight woolen hose, and seventeenth century rapier, Alex was her Medieval prince. 340

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A squat Henry VIII with a protruding belly greeted them with a jovial smile. "Ravenspur! 'Tis good of you to have come," he boomed. "Esquire Wyatt, 'tis glad I am to enjoy this magnificent ball. Please extend my compliments to Mrs. Wyatt," Alex returned smoothly. "Thank you, my lord. My wife will be delighted to hear it." Wyatt turned to Aubri. "And who is this beauty, my lord? A sister perhaps?" She noted the speculative gleam in his eyes. "Mayhap," Alexande responded with a conspiratorial wink. "She wishes to remain anonymous for she has not been officially introduced to the ton, and therefore does not wish to jeopardize her upcoming Season. But perhaps she will catch herself a husband anyway." The esquire gave vent to a hearty laugh, before taking her hand and smothering it with a kiss. "We have plenty of barons, wealthy merchants, an earl, and, of course, a marquis." Aubri laughed softly. Nothing less than the Marquis of Ravenspur would do for her. "One never knows," she replied coyly. "Good, good! I shall have to introduce you to my daughter, Annabel. Wherever the devil has she gone? You won't miss her. She's a faery princess with gossamer wings and a diamond cornet. I'm sure the two of you will have lots in common," Wyatt boomed as he avidly searched the crowd. His brow furrowed as he espied someone or something. "If you'll excuse me, I must see to my other guests." 341

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"Of course," Alex responded coolly. The esquire bowed before disappearing into the crowd. "I suppose the squire has been trying to entice you with Miss Annabel," Aubri commented idly. She'd seen the way the man's eyes gleamed when he looked at Alexande. I man wanted a marquis for a son-in-law. Alex looked at her, surprised. "Aye, he has," he said slowly. Aubri was consumed by a surge of jealousy and annoyance. Of course the girl was probably beautiful and refined—everything she could never be. And Alexande, being a rogue, had no doubt taken notice. "But you should know, I have no interest in the chit," he said low as he stared into her eyes. "There is only one beauty I desire." Her heart leapt at the smoldering promise in his gaze. He placed Aubri's hand on his arm and guided her into the ballroom. "Come, my love, let us put your newly found skills to use." **** Aubriana was dancing on cloud nine. She was light as air as she performed the complicated steps of the graceful minuet with her handsome, yet mysterious partner. Alexande had relinquished her after ten dances. It wouldn't do for him to dance with his "sister" over long, and there were plenty of gentleman eager to take his place. 342

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She gazed at her dance partner as he led her through a Bouree before slipping into a Half Coupee with an innate grace that made her feel like a clumsy oaf. There were six couples dancing the minuet at the moment and lucky for her, her gentleman seemed aware of her limitations. Dressed in gold silk from head to toe, with black lace spilling from his wrists and throat, he was the epitome of fashion. Gold plumbs splayed in a half circle from the black velvet mask covering everything but his angular jaw and firm, sensual lips. A lazy smile curved his mouth as he watched her with dark eyes. As he spun her in a three quarter circle, Aubriana's gaze caught on a curious object laying on a nearby table and chairs set aside for the older guests—a fan. A black fan. She frowned, her gaze darting about the gathered throng. There were many gentlemen as fashionably dressed as her partner, and many of those had fans dangling from their wrists—but none were black. For black was reserved for those in mourning. She must have been mistaken. Perhaps the fan was dark blue or even aubergine...certainly not black. She had to wait as they minced through a Fleuret to confirm her suspicions. As the gentleman brought her full circle, her gaze fell on the table. The fan was black. And it was trimmed with black Spanish lace and decorated with black crystal beads as the one Espion had held before his face. 343

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She gazed wildly about the room, searching the masked assemblage, and nearly tripped over her feet as she missed a step. "You seem distracted, my dear. Is there something wrong?" A deep voice rasped low in her ear. Aubri gasped, her gaze flying to meet her partner's. Hard, dark eyes watched her with keen interest. Dread skidded down her spine as her pulse thundered in her ears. She knew that voice! Aubriana tried to pull away, but his grip tightened on her hand until he was nearly crushing her fingers. Forced to continue the minuet with him, she found it nearly impossible to concentrate on the steps she'd practiced so flawlessly. "Wh-what are you doing here?" Her voice quivered. "I told you I would be watching you," came his gravely reply. She turned and sank into a curtsy, before rising and taking his hand once more. Staring straight ahead, she spoke low. "You must know through Mrs. Fulthrop that I am still Ravenspur's mistress. I haven't betrayed you." "Of course you wouldn't, my dear. Not with your brother's life hanging in the balance. I just wanted to be sure you were still on the right side. I've noticed a glaring lack of reports." Aubri would have scoffed if she wasn't so terrified. She was sure those of the "right" side did not threaten your relatives to gain your cooperation. "I didn't see the point. I have no doubt Mrs. Fulthrop provides you with fully detailed reports concerning the marquis as well as myself." 344

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A low throaty chuckle reached her ear. "Yes, the old dragon does have her uses, despite that acid tongue of hers." "Then what do you want with me?" Aubri could barely push the words past her lips. "I just wanted to offer a pleasant reminder of your duties, that is all." Aubriana was never so happy as when she heard the last strains of the sonata come to a graceful end. "I'm distracting him as you commanded," she reminded him as she sank into a curtsey. His suddenly heated gaze slid from her face to the deep decolletage of her gown. "I'm sure you are," he murmured huskily. With a graceful bow he took up her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "A pleasure as always, Miss Welbery." The moment Espion released her gloved hand and walked away, Aubri plunged into the crowd. She pushed past the other dancers preparing to take their place on the ballroom floor for the next minuet. She turned and smacked face first into burgundy velvet chest. Warm hands caught her arms and gently righted her. "Aubriana, what's wrong? You look pale." Aubri glanced up, never so relieved as when she met Alexande's grey eyes. "Alex, you must come with me," she said as she grabbed his hand. Turning, she plunged back into the crowd, pulling Alex behind her. "Aubri, tell me what is wrong." Aubriana said nothing as she frantically searched the packed ballroom. If she could show Alex his nemesis and confess all, maybe he would find it in his heart to forgive her. 345

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She didn't know how much longer she could keep deceiving the man she loved—the lies were killing her. And now she had her babe to think about. She stumbled into the table. The fan was gone. Damnation! It had been Espion's. She pushed deeper into the crowd. Espion could not have escaped so quickly. Even amongst the glamor of all the costumed attendees, his gold and black would stand out. He was as tall as Alexande after all—over six feet—which did not seem to be a common height for the Wyatts' friends. She was nearly to the entrance when Aubri halted. She spun around, searching in every direction but there was no point. Espion had disappeared. She nearly wept with the realization. "Aubriana, what's going on? You're worrying me." Aubri glanced up into Alexande's eyes as he reached out and brushed his thumb over her cheek. "I...I just need a breath of fresh air," she murmured, casting her gaze downward. She couldn't bare the deep concern in his eyes. "Please take me to the gardens." **** Alexande placed his hand against her back as he guided Aubriana through the throng toward the open French doors. It was suffocating in the ballroom, but that didn't explain Aubri's 346

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pale cheeks, or the glitter of unshed tears in her amethyst eyes. What had happened during the minuet? Much to his displeasure, Alex had been forced to allow the other gentlemen to dance with her, knowing Arthur Wyatt was keeping a close eye on him. And with Aubri's radiant beauty, there were no lack of partners. As her "brother" and chaperon, most were civil enough to ask him permission to dance. But a couple had not. Like the gold and black peacock who'd whisked her away for the first minuet. Alex had been assailed by a surge of jealousy as he'd watched them dance. The fop's movements had been graceful and flirtatious, and Aubri had been the perfect accompaniment—they had made too handsome a couple. But then he'd noticed the first signs of Aubri's distress. What had the man said to her? Was it something suggestive? But Alex had a feeling it was something else entirely. He only wished he knew what. But he could hardly question her here, not with so many eyes and ears to overhear their conversation. He guided her onto the terrace and down the steps leading into the enchanting garden, joining the other couples quietly promenading along the winding paths. But even the dimly lit paths were too public a place for Alex. He steered her into a darkened area of the gardens, well hidden from the terrace. He removed her mask and his own, letting the gentle rays of the moon bathe her beautiful face.

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"Aubri, tell me what happened back there. What did that gentleman say to you? Why were you searching the crowd for him?" She blanched at his words, and swallowed as a tear slid down her cheek. "Alex, please don't ask me any questions...just hold me." Seeing her distress, Alexande curbed his tongue as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a tight embrace. His query would have to wait...for now. She slid her arms around his neck, and gazed up at him. She was achingly beautiful in the silvery moonlight, and there was no mistaking the powerful emotion shining in her eyes. Aubri pulled his head down as she reached up and pressed a tender kiss to his lips. She tasted of champagne, love and desperation. Despite his need for answers, Alexande was swept away in a whirlwind of passion as he took control of her sweet kiss. She sighed and parted her lips as he slid his tongue inside to taste of her ambrosia. He'd never known a woman to be so thoroughly intoxicating. He was consumed by need, desire tugging hard, engorging his cock. For weeks, Alex had been in a constant state of arousal. Whenever his thoughts strayed to his lovely mistress, he would find himself hard and hungry for her. She was a drug, addictive as opium—and nearly as destructive. It was dangerous to want her so much, to be consumed by such need, making him think of nothing but her. 348

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He had a murder to solve, a mission to complete, a spy to catch, and a traitor's identity to discover...but then, perhaps it was precisely what his enemy wanted—to distract him. He hastily pushed the thought aside, yet he could hardly ignore it. He didn't want to think Aubri's affection was merely an illusion, because much to his everlasting surprise, he needed her. That's why this was dangerous, she was dangerous. Aubri was a weakness he could ill afford. "Alex," she whispered against his lips, "please make love to me." Aubriana tightened her hold around his neck and pressed her breasts against his chest. Alexande never wanted her more. He slid his hands down to cup her buttocks, and squeezed, pulling her tight against his aching shaft. He was just mad enough with the desire to lay her down in the shadows and make love to her till they both drowned in bliss. "Are you sure we're alone?" a male voice whispered from somewhere in the bushes. Alex froze. "Yes, now would you please kiss me," a feminine voice cried softly. There was a faint, moist sucking sound in the darkness, leaving little to the imagination. "Is that what we sound like?" Aubri whispered, color flooding her cheeks. Alex grinned down at her. "That is precisely what we sound like," he murmured, before nuzzling behind her ear. She groaned softly and tilted her head to one side, silently begging for more. This is what he loved about Aubri—she was 349

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so responsive, so passionate, and ready to tumble at a moment's notice. None of his other mistresses had ever been so giving. He glided his mouth across her succulent flesh, tasting the saltiness of her skin, nipping and teasing as he slowly made his way down her neck. She arched her back as he laid kisses across her chest to her luscious breasts. Carefully, he pulled the bodice down until her delightful breasts popped free. He kneaded the soft mounds in his hands. He'd noticed her lovely globes had become fuller, more plump and firm, but considering all the loving they'd received of late, it wasn't a complete surprise. Her nipples pebbled instantly, and Alex couldn't help himself a taste. He leaned down to lick and nip the areole, before sucking it into his mouth. She moaned softly, her hands gripping his shoulder as he suckled hard. "Annabel," a male voice whispered, husky with desire, "we need to talk. I have something of great import I must tell you." Alex couldn't suppress his chuckle. He'd been right to think Miss Wyatt's disinterest was due to a beau. No doubt, someone her father would disapprove. "Bram, I don't want to talk. I want to be with you. I haven't seen you in days," Annabel whispered. Aubriana stiffened in his arms. "Anna, my love, listen to me. This is of the gravest importance, and it concerns your father." Alex stilled. Gently, he released Aubri's nipple and stared into the bushes. 350

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"My father? What are you talking about, Bram? I thought you agreed to meet me out here so we could make love," Annabel complained. "Anna, your father is a smuggler. But worse than that, he may very well be a traitor." "What?" Miss Wyatt cried in disbelief. "Bram?" Aubri called at the same time. Alex looked down at his mistress, and noted the look of shock in her eyes. There was a sudden rustle in the bushes. "Who the bloody hell are you?" the man demanded as he and Annabel emerged from the shrubs. His eyes narrowed as his gaze focused on Aubriana. "Aubri?" His gaze widened as it darted from her face to her exposed breasts. Bram Welbery's eyes hardened as he took a menacing step toward Alex. "Lord Ravenspur, I should have known." His voice dripped with contempt. "How dare you touch my sister!" "Bram, 'tis not what you think—" Aubri protested, but her brother didn't want to listen. He stepped forward, his hand wrapped around the butt of the pistol shoved in his breeches, and glared. Alexande took a step forward to shield Aubri from his gaze. "Would that not be the pot calling the kettle black?" he queried nonchalantly as he gazed pointedly at Miss Wyatt's mussed hair, swollen lips, and her bodice which looked suspiciously askew. "I was kissing her, not tossing up her skirts like a dockside whore for a quick tumble," Bram snarled. 351

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Alex's eyes narrowed as he slid a hand about the hilt of his sword. He took a threatening step forward. "Don't ever speak of your sister to me like that again, unless you want to feel the bite of my blade," he growled. When her brother did nothing, neither backing down nor issuing a challenge, Alex turned around and shielded Aubri with his body. She stared up at him with wide, fearful eyes. Gently, he tucked her breasts back into her bodice, before cupping her cheeks. "All will be well," he whispered, before leaning forward and kissing her softly. He retrieved her mask and tied it beneath her hair—her identity safe once more. Alex turned around to face her livid brother. "I think you and I need to have a long chat," he said idly. "When and where?" Bram demanded brashly. "Here and now," Alexande replied coolly. Her brother blanched. The fool was talking about a duel— but Alex was not. "I want to know everything you were going to tell Annabel about her father," Alexande informed him. Bram's eyes widened in shock, before narrowing in suspicion. "Why the hell should I tell you anything?" the younger man demanded. "Annabel? Annabel!" Her father shouted over the garden. Alex glanced up to find their host standing on the terrace, and was glad they were well hidden. "Where is that bloody girl?" the squire grumbled, before turning around and heading back inside. 352

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Alexande regarded Miss Wyatt, her eyes wide with alarm. "Annabel, I want you and Aubriana to return to the ball. If you are seen together, no one will think anything of it, but two young women who needed a bit of fresh air." "But Alex—" Aubri protested, laying a hand on his arm. He turned to face her and took her hands in his. "No sweeting, I have need to speak with your brother. But I do not want scandal to erupt for either you or Miss Wyatt. Do you trust me?" he asked, searching her gaze. Her eyes wide and fearful, she looked up at him and hesitated. "Yes." She doesn't trust me. Agony sliced through him at the realization, but he suppressed it. Over the years, Alex had learned to hide his emotions, to never reveal what he was feeling lest he give an enemy a means to attack. Yet nothing could have prepared him for the pain ripping him apart. Her distrust shouldn't have mattered but it did. If she had plunged a dagger into his chest, it could not have hurt him more. She slipped her hands from his and went to assist Annabel, making her presentable. The two ladies linked arms and Aubri gazed at her brother. "Bram, it's not what you think," she said softly. Without another word, Aubriana and Annabel slipped out of the bushes and made their way through the garden until they reached the terrace. Once they were safely inside the ballroom, Bram turned on him. "If you have made my sister into your whore, I swear I shall kill you!" [Back to Table of Contents] 353

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Chapter Thirty-Two **** Alexande glared at Aubri's brother, barely containing the urge to beat the fool to a bloody pulp—which he richly deserved. "Don't ever call your sister a whore again, or I will give you the satisfaction you so desperately crave, and meet you on the field of honor. But I shall warn you, I have been dueling since I was eighteen years old. I have studied with the best masters England and Europe have to offer. I am also a crack shot, so think good and hard before you let the next words slip from your mouth. For I would sincerely hate to kill you." Bram ground his jaw as he eyed Alex. "What are your intentions toward her?" "What are your intentions with Miss Wyatt? From the sounds of it, this was not your first tryst, nor is she as pure as virgin snow," Alex countered. "I intend to marry her!" Bram growled. "I love her and will make her my wife." "How do you propose to do that when her father will not allow you to marry her?" "How the hell could you possibly know that?" "The esquire has made it quite clear he would like a marquis for a son-in-law," Alex returned matter-of-factly.

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"You bastard! First you turn my sister into a whore, now you intend to take Annabel!" Bram whipped out his pistol and charged Alex. In the blink of an eye, Alexande unsheathed his sword and disarmed the irate brother—sending the pistol flying harmlessly to the ground. He stepped forward and pressed the razor tip to the tender underside of Bram's throat. "I warned you Mr. Welbery. I do not take kindly to being threatened, nor do I care for you calling your sister a whore. If I hear those words slip from your mouth one more time, I will kill you." Alex had never been more angry in his life and could barely contain the storm roiling through his blood. They glared at one another for a long moment, before Bram finally surrendered. "Fine. We will not speak of Aubri for the time being, but if I hear you have hurt her in any way, I will meet you on the field, regardless of your warning," the smuggler challenged. Alex nodded. "Very well. But know I do not abuse women nor do I ever force them to do anything they don't already want. Aubriana may be a lot of things, but one thing she is not is a whore." He lowered his sword from the man's throat before sheathing it. Alex waited for Aubri's brother to simmer down before he began questioning him. "Now, tell me what makes you think Arthur Wyatt is not only a smuggler but a traitor as well?" "Why the bloody hell should I tell you? Aubri warned me not to trust you," Bram snarled.

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Alex's heart clenched tight, and for a moment he couldn't breathe. It seemed she had plunged a dagger into his chest after all. But why? The ugly suspicions he'd harbored for the last fortnight rose to the fore, dancing a jig with the demons who never ceased to torment him. The proof of her treachery was glaring him in the face. Damnation, but for the first time in his life, he did not want to believe ill of a woman. "Why would she tell you that?" Alex questioned coolly. Her brother eyed him wearily. "Because you are investigating the smuggling in Weymouth and Sir Geoffrey Dunn's death." "If you are involved only with the smuggling, then you have nothing to fear from me. Ninety percent of the tea bought and drank in England has been smuggled in, and it will only get worse as the war continues. I don't give a whit about the local smugglers, as long as they're not killing. But I suspect it was not Willy Seamus or his gang who murdered the young Revenue Officer. My only concern is finding the man's killer; that is all I care about." Silence. Alexande patiently waited as a myriad of emotions flickered across the younger man's face. "Very well," Bram finally replied, "I will trust you." "Then tell me everything, from the beginning." Bram hesitated, seeming to collect his thoughts. "As you probably know, I help Willy with the contraband smuggled 356

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along our coast. Seamus has been smuggling for a very long time, and as such has many financiers who help him with his ventures. These financiers also bribe the useless Revenue Officers in Weymouth. I don't know if you've met them yet, but they were chosen specifically for the job." "I have," Alex confirmed. In one visit to the cramped revenue office, he learned everything he needed to know— one officer was an old man who happened to be blind as a bat, and the other was a lazy, portly gentleman who was no doubt living well off his bribes. "About six months back, a new officer was assigned to Weymouth from outside the community," Bram continued. "Sir Geoffrey Dunn." "Aye, and he was not like the others. He was young and full of energy, ready to catch all us smugglers singlehandedly." "And he could not be bribed," Alex concluded. "Exactly. Willy was a little put out for it had been years since he'd had to worry about a Revenue Officer. But he was not sloppy. He knew all kinds of tricks for keeping the contraband out of their hands. However, one of our financiers was not at all happy." "Espion." Bram looked surprised. "Yes. He was furious in fact. A reaction that surprised us all, though I was not there to see it. Only Willy is allowed to the meetings at St. Nicolas Church. I came to respect Dunn, for though he was alone, his determination to catch us was remarkable. We became 357

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friends in an odd sort of way, for he had met my sister and taken an interest." Alexande felt a sudden surge of jealousy but quickly squelched it. "He began compiling a list of all the smugglers in the area, or those at least he suspected." "Of which you are one," Alex commented. "Aye. But what's more, he began to suspect there was much more than mere smuggling. For one thing, a greater number of French ships were coming to port than six months earlier, according to the records. He began following Espion and his men, looking for any clue as to the man's identity and his whereabouts, but the bastard was crafty. Dunn told me he suspected Espion was in truth, a traitor, selling military secrets to the French for a hefty price. But still he was not any closer to discovering who the gentleman was. Though Willy has met the man many times, he does not actually know his name, nor has he seen his face. All he says is that the man is a swell. "So Dunn began compiling a list of noblemen and wealthy merchants in the area who could possibly be Espion. The night Geoffrey was killed, he had been spying upon Espion, for the bastard had come to a ship in person—very rare. But before Dunn could get away, he was surrounded by Espion's men and murdered." "How do you know all of this?" Alex queried. "This time we were loading contraband onto the French ship—horses. After the job was finished, I caught sight of Dunn's mount hidden in a nearby grove. I began to worry 358

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about him, for I knew he was spying on Espion. I hung around after the ship weighed anchor and Seamus and his men dispersed. I wanted to warn Dunn to take greater care." Bram's voice faded to silence, his jaw clenching. "Tell me what you saw," Alexande encouraged softly. He felt sympathy for the horror in the younger man's eyes. "They were waiting for him. Espion and twenty or so of his men. None of them were locals. They surrounded him and whipped him..." his voice trailed off for a moment. "Do you know how long it took them to kill Geoffrey?" he asked quietly. Alex said nothing. "Two hours it took to beat and whip him to death. They slashed him over and over again, until he was a bloody pile of quivering flesh. And then they left him to die in agony. They did not even have the decency to cut his throat, to put him out of his misery. No, they left him moaning on the ground slowly bleeding to death," Bram growled, his eyes glittering with unshed tears and self loathing. Alexande frowned as he realized Bram was ashamed because he'd not stepped in to help his friend. But if he had, there would have been two murders that night, instead of one. Though he wished he could help him, Alex knew this was something Aubri's brother would have to deal with himself. And something he would carry with him for the rest of his life. When he finally continued, Bram's voice was gruff with emotion. "When they were gone, I went to Dunn. He was barely alive. He could not speak to tell me Espion's identity. Instead, he told me where to find the key he'd hidden to his 359

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room at the King's Arms Inn. I knew there were secret lists and documents he had complied of all the local gentlemen who could be the traitor. He had mentioned them to me before. Fearing the documents would suddenly disappear, I knew he wanted me to take them and hide them before Espion or the Sheriff got their hands on them. So the next night I took them and hid them." Ah, that explains the empty hidden drawer in Dunn's desk. "Where are they now?" Alex wondered. Bram looked at him hard. "They're safe." Alexande considered the smuggler a moment. It was time for him to take a chance if he was going to get anywhere with Aubri's brother and his mission. "I want you to know, I have been sent by Newcastle and the King himself to investigate Dunn's murder. And now to discover Espion's identity—to capture or kill him, whatever I must to stop him. Those are my orders. I know you are a smuggler, in fact, I know the names of most of the smugglers in Weymouth, but I don't give a damn about you or them. You are but local men trying to eke out a living and fulfill a need. Willy Seamus and his men have killed no one, and done nothing but keep a few shillings out of the King's coffers. My concern is not with you or them. But if you want to help me stop Espion and avenge your friend's death, then you had best give me the documents. I might be able to see something which Dunn missed. I already have proof of Espion's treachery. "I found papers and money from France for Espion, proving he is indeed selling secrets to the French. Yet, I have been unable to discover who the whoreson is. And if he is not 360

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stopped soon, tens of thousands of good Englishmen will be killed. Sailors and soldiers will die at the hands of our enemies without there ever being a battle." Bram regarded him for a long minute, and Alex sensed an uneasy truce between them. "Very well. I will bring the papers to you in a few days' time. But you must promise to tell Aubriana nothing of this. She worries over much as it is." "Agreed. Now you must tell me why you suspect Wyatt is the traitor." Bram sighed. "I have done some investigating, furthering what Geoffrey had accomplished. It turns out Mr. Wyatt's coal business is not as sound as it once was. The mines are drying up and he is having a hard time finding other claims. Yet he and his family live like the wealthiest of blokes. I already know he is involved with the smuggling. Why not receive even more blunt by becoming a traitor?" "He is not Espion," Alexande stated firmly. "How the hell do you know this?" Bram demanded. "Call it instinct, but something tells me he is not. I have made a few discoveries myself, and though he might be involved deeper than I first suspected, he is not the man who calls himself Espion." "Annabel will be relieved." Alex looked at him hard. "Miss Wyatt should know nothing of this. You endanger her life by even suggesting it to her. There is no telling who is listening and watching. If you care for her at all, you will be more careful around her." 361

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Bram's eyes narrowed and he stiffened. He looked ready to protest, but after a moment he relented. "Aye, you're probably right, I should keep her out of this until her father's guilt or innocence is proven." "Indeed. And it would probably be wise if you stayed away from her for the time being. You, yourself, could be watched." Aubri's brother ground his teeth but agreed. "Very well." "I had best return. Aubri has been alone too long as it is, and if people are watching they will wonder at my absence. You had best leave as well. Do not forget the documents. They could be vital." "I won't," Bram bit out. Without another word, he turned on his heel, scooped up his gun, and climbed over the garden wall. Alex watched him disappear into the night. Bram really did need to control his temper, or it would get him killed one of these days. Alexande replaced his mask and returned to the ball, looking for all the world as if he'd just had a nice, leisurely walk. **** Aubriana absently stared out the carriage window as the moonlit landscape sped by. She was trapped in a whirlwind of turmoil, a thousand questions swarming her thoughts. What had Bram and Alex discussed? Had her brother revealed his part in Dunn's death? Was he aware Alexande was a traitor? Or was Mr. Wyatt the true spy? 362

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And what of Espion? How did he figure in all of this? There was no doubt he was Alex's enemy, but what side was Alex on? She closed her eyes and struggled with the pain squeezing her heart. Who could she trust? She was so confused. She'd seen the aftermath when Alex had killed a man...but what had happened in the moments before? Had he merely defended his life? Or was the father of her babe a cold blooded murderer? She couldn't bear to think it was the latter. She longed to visit her mother and father, to unburden her soul and ask for their advice, but she dare not. It could endanger their lives. Besides, they had much to worry about already, with her mother's delicate health and her father working his fingers to the bone, they did not need this as well. She would have to deal with it herself. Aubriana had never felt more alone. "Aubri, come here." His deep voice glided across her skin like a caress. Her eyes snapped open and her gaze darted to the marquis. He sat on the seat opposite her. But with the silvery light barely peeking into the dark interior, it was hard to discern his expression. Her stomach churned with unease, and she was gripped with indecision. She desperately wanted to feel his arms wrapped around her, to chase away the chill in her soul with the heat of his passion. 363

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But did she dare trust him? Did he know of her deception? Had her brother told him all? When he'd returned to her at the ball, he'd given her nary a clue, had been as charming and warm as before. But something had changed—she was sure of it. "Come here, my love." Though he spoke the words softly, it was unmistakably a command. "...pleasure me whenever, wherever and however..." How those words had come to haunt her. She was his paid mistress after all. And she wanted nothing more than to be in his arms in that moment—it was useless to fight it. She rose and placed her hand in his. Instantly he pulled her onto his lap. He wrapped her in his arms, pulling her close and her heart shattered. It's the end, I can feel it. Though she loved him more than she ever thought possible, there were just too many lies, too many deceptions between them. He did not want a wife or children, and he would never accept her heart. Besides, sooner or later, he would toss her over for a new mistress—a new lover to catch his fancy, and Aubri would be devastated. No, she had to think of her babe. She had to leave Alex and soon—before it became impossible to do so, regardless of Espion's threat. ****

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Alexande urged Aubri to lay her head on his shoulder. Something was terribly wrong between them—he could sense it—and it scared the hell out of him. Yet he couldn't put his finger on it. Normally, he ended a liaison when his lovers showed too much emotion, too much attachment. But the thought of losing his Aubriana made his heart protest vehemently. He needed her as he'd never needed another woman. Yet there was a deep chasm between them, one dug by distrust. He'd never encountered the like before, and was completely at a loss. He'd never allowed himself to form an attachment to any of his women, not even Lizzie. They were to be used for pleasure and nothing more—a pleasant diversion, a means to pass the time. Yet, he would sooner wend his way through the treacherous French court than deal with this. "Aubri, tell me what is wrong? What happened back at the ballroom?" he asked gently. She shuddered. Suddenly he was struck by a terrible realization—she was afraid of him. Alex stared blindly into the gloom. Why the hell is she afraid of me? He'd done nothing to harm her. In fact, he'd given her more of himself than he had ever given to any woman. Yet she was pulling away from him, emotionally. Her fear was a tangible thing. The suspicions Alex had desperately fought, enveloped him in a storm of agony and rage. Had she betrayed him somehow? Was she the spy in his house? 365

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Yet he could not equate her passion with doing her "duty." Aubri was not a practiced lover—he'd known it the first time he'd kissed her, let alone the night he took her maidenhead. In the past, his enemies had always sent him skilled courtesans, armed with every sensual trick in the book, and he'd fooled them easily. Aubri had been completely naive. And as of late, he'd sensed a deeper emotion in her. Did she care for him as deeply as he did her? Or was it all just an act? Had his enemies discovered a weakness he'd not known in himself? For the life of him, Alexande couldn't believe she was pretending, but nor could he dismiss the possibility. Damnation, he hated this uncertainty! He had enough dubiety with his missions, never knowing who was truly friend or foe. But he'd never had to wonder with any of his women, because they were all untrustworthy. This was why he stayed the hell away from innocents. Why he kept himself carefully detached from the women he bedded... "Sweeting," he murmured against her hair, "tell me what is wrong." She trembled and sobbed against his throat. Her reaction alarmed him more than staring down the gun barrel of his enemy, with himself unarmed. Gently, he gripped her chin, and forced her to meet his gaze. "Aubri, please confide in me. You know you can trust me." But as he searched her eyes, he saw nothing but fear and despair. His heart spasmed. She is hiding something from me! It was something terrible, something she feared would turn him against her—it was written in her eyes. 366

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He ground his teeth and fought the urge to shake the bloody truth from her. She stared back at him for a long moment, then reached up and slid her fingers into his hair. Aubri leaned forward and kissed him with all the skill he had taught her. Alex stiffened beneath her passionate onslaught—it was a ploy to distract him, a courtesan's trick. And it was working, damn her! He groaned as her soft lips moved over his, her tongue teasing the seam of his mouth. As though he had no will of his own, he surrendered. He parted his lips beneath hers and was shocked by the ferocity of her kiss. It was fraught with passion and desperation as she thrust her tongue into his mouth and hungrily explored. Fire surged through his veins as lust erupted in a blaze of need in his loins. His cock pulsed with desire, and he was lost to the need to bury himself inside her hot sex—to possess her as only he knew how. Alex took charge of the kiss and savaged her mouth, plunging his tongue deep. He needed to claim her in a way that would satisfy the primal animal inside him. As their mouths mated fiercely, he knew he must have her—now. He shifted her thighs until she straddled his hips, her skirts draping over his legs. He whipped off her cloak and threw it to the floor before wrapping his arms around her, and crushing her breasts against his chest. He ground his erection against her, his hose a thin barrier between them. Aubri was caught in her own trap. She'd kissed him to prevent him from questioning her further, but instead she was hopelessly lost in a whirlwind of blazing passion. She 367

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needed him to warm her aching heart, to fill the emptiness inside her. She gave herself completely to his hunger, and reveled in the fire blazing between them. He yanked down her bodice and she gasped. Her nipples puckered and heat surged through her body. He bent her over his arm and latched onto an aching areole, his hot mouth devouring her sensitive flesh. He laved and suckled her with a ferocity which mirrored the throbbing in her loins. Aubri arched her back and tossed her head from side to side. She'd never been this consumed by carnal hunger. She rocked against the hard bulge as he thrust against her, her juices seeping from her nether lips. "Alexande," she moaned, "I need you." Alex growled as he devoured her succulent flesh. Lust pounded in his brain and cock as she undulated against him. She was a wild creature, consumed by passion—and he loved it. Sliding a hand beneath her skirt, he found her heated, naked skin. He ran his fingers up her inner thigh and teased her cleft. She was dripping wet. He slipped a finger through her slick folds and thrust deep into her cunny, and groaned. She was scalding hot, and ready for him. He pumped his finger in and out of her, priming her for his deeper invasion. She moaned and writhed, grinding her hot sex against his hand, and he nearly exploded. Alexande felt something tug on his hose and realized it was her nimble fingers ripping at the ties. She spread the wool and released his engorged flesh. He groaned as her cool fingers wrapped around his shaft and slowly pumped it up and 368

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down in time to his thrusting finger. He gazed into her visage and his heart tumbled. He'd never seen her more beautiful, nor so consumed with passion. She was everything a man could ever want. "Aubri," he growled as the pleasure nearly sent him over the edge. He slipped his finger from her dripping core and pried her hand from his erection. Holding her hips, he pulled her down as he thrust his cock hilt deep. They groaned in unison, immersed in a tidal wave of pleasure. "Hold onto me, love," Alex ground out as he pumped his erection hard and deep with each stroke. Aubriana wrapped her arms around his neck and gasped. Passion pounded through her veins as she undulated on his throbbing shaft, meeting every one of his driving thrusts. She moaned as his hot mouth latched onto a hardened nipple and suckled. She was consumed with pleasure, slave to the need driving her higher and higher. Never had their lovemaking been this wild or primal, and she gloried in every moment. Their passion had stripped them to their most basic elements. They were no longer Aubri and Alex, marquis and mistress. They were male and female, engaged in the most elemental act their bodies had been created for, and it was pure ecstasy. Alexande's need was insatiable. He penetrated hard and deep, his erection plunging in and out of her grasping sex. Her sheath squeezed his flesh, pushing him to the limits. He laved her sweat dampened skin, and kissed his way up her throat to her ear. 369

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"Come for me, Aubri. I can feel you fluttering around my cock. I know you want to climax," he whispered in her ear. She moaned and her cunny squeezed his cockstand—she was so close, he could taste it. Gliding a finger through her slippery folds, he found her clit, hard and pulsating. He circled it, around and around, but never touching it. She panted and drove herself up and down his shaft with a desperation that had him gritting his teeth. A lusty storm was brewing, the likes of which he'd never experienced before. He brushed his finger across the nub and she screamed. Aubriana cried his name as her world erupted in erotic splendor. He drove his erection harder and faster into her, aiding her pleasure, sending her soaring into the heavens...and then he roared. He buried his cock so deep, she felt his seed pump into her womb and ecstasy flooded her awareness. She floated back to earth and slumped against him—her entire body turned to jelly as her woman's core quivered with delicious aftershocks. Alex's chest heaved as he basked in the euphoria of his orgasm. He rubbed his hand up and down her back and held her close. The devil of it was, he wanted her again. But this time, he wanted to make slow, passionate love to her in bed, all night long. These quick tumbles did little to satisfy the craving gnawing at his soul. "Forgive me, milord, but there's somethin' in the road. Looks like a body," the coachman called down to him from the boot. 370

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Startled, Alex glanced up to find his driver peering down at him through the hatch. The last thing he wanted was a bloody intrusion, especially not after such intense loving. He growled low against Aubri's throat, and wished to hell the driver would shut the bloody door. "Milord?" He struggled against the euphoria pulling him under and forced himself to respond. "You had best investigate, John." His voice sounded gruff even to his own ears. "Aye, milord," John hastily replied before shutting the hatch. Ah, finally, some peace and quiet. Alex closed his eyes and leaned back against the squabs. With Aubri in his arms, his phallus encased in her scorching sex, a warmth enveloped his heart and a peace soothed his ravaged soul. Suddenly the hairs rose on the back of his neck and his eyes snapped open. He sat straight up and stared past her shoulder to the window. "Merde," he swore. How could he have been so bloody stupid? A gruff voice shouted as the carriage was brought to a grinding halt. "Stand and deliver!" [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Thirty-Three **** Alex glanced at Aubriana, her eyes filled with anxiety and dread. His mind already focused on the crisis at hand, he slipped his semi-arousal from her wet heat and stuffed it back into his hose. Gently he tucked her breasts into her bodice, before righting her skirts. He set her beside him, and leaning forward, silently slid open the drawer hidden beneath the forward seat. The silver barrels of two primed pistols winked up at him in the moonlight. "Ye better get yer bloody arse out here milord, an' yer whore too, afore me an' me men blow yer bloody servants' heads off!" Someone shouted. She gasped and Alexande swore under his breath. "What shall we do?" Aubri whispered. He abandoned the pistols and retrieved her cloak from the floor. "You will do nothing. No matter what happens, you must not provoke these men." Draping the cloak about her shoulders, he tugged it over her chest. Silently she watched him, but there was no mistaking her fear. "Love, I promise to keep you safe. I've been in far more dangerous situations than this," he whispered and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. Alex took her hand and headed for the door. "Don't shoot!" he called, swinging open the portal, "we are coming out." 372

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He tugged on her arm as he jumped out of the coach. Aubri gave a cry as she tripped and fell on the carriage floor. He spun around and gently helped her to her feet. "No funny business or we'll be forced to blow a hole in ye," the highwayman growled. Alexande said nothing as he swung her to the ground. Damnation, in the moonlight she was too ravishing by far. "Are you all right?" he murmured low. She swallowed and nodded. Alex turned round and pulled Aubri close behind him, hoping to shield her from the robbers. There were three of them. All dressed in black, with handkerchiefs covering the lower halves of their faces, and tricorns shadowing their eyes. Two of them had their weapons trained on his coachman, John, and his footman, George. The third, and presumably the leader, had his pistol pointed at Alexande. Alex led Aubri a safe distance from the coach, until they were clear of its shadow. "What is it that I can do for you, my good man?" he queried politely. "Ye'll shut yer bloody trap if ye know w'at's good for ye. We want yer mistress' fine jewels," the highwayman ordered harshly. Alex stilled, the fine hairs standing on the back of his neck, as his sixth sense screamed a warning. Something wasn't right.

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How the hell had they known he had a woman with him, let alone his mistress? He'd told everyone at the ball she was his sister. Aubri's identity had been safe. This was no ordinary robbery. If only Alex could create a diversion, perhaps he could disarm the leader with the saber hidden beneath his cloak, and give his servants enough time to grab their muskets. "Let's see yer pretty lil' piece, milord, an' make it quick!" the highwayman barked. Aubri jumped and released his hand. Before he could stop her, she moved to stand beside him. Alex ground his teeth as the robber raked his lecherous gaze up her body—thankfully, mostly hidden beneath her cloak. But it did not make her any less beautiful or desirable. The leader whistled low and leered. "W'at a fine piece ye got there, milord. Maybe we'll 'ave ourselves a lil' fun before we go, eh boys?" The other two traded ribald jests and grabbed their crotches. If Alex hadn't been ready to kill them before, he certainly was now. But he needed to keep his mind sharp and focused. He couldn't let his anger get in the way. "But first, we want them fine diamonds an' tear drop sapphire before we take care o' the rest o' our business." The highwayman chuckled. It's a trap! These were no highwaymen, but thugs sent to kill him. No doubt Aubri and her jewels were a promised bonus. 374

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Aubri pressed against his side, her body trembling, yet bravely faced the threat. Alex clenched his fists and struggled for calm. Bloodlust pounded through his veins, demanding action, but he had to tread carefully, to bide his time for the right moment, or he'd get himself killed—leaving Aubri alone and defenseless. "Remove yer bloody cloak, whore," the leader barked. Aubri jerked. Her chest rose and fell with her quickened breath. Alex reached out to clasp her hand for courage, when he felt something cold and heavy press into his palm. Somehow the clever minx had managed to get a hold of one of the pistols. She must have grabbed it when she fell. She sidled away from him until they were separated by several feet. Though Alex kept his gaze on the robber, he watched Aubri out of the corner of his eye. Her hands trembled so hard, she could barely open the clasp. The heavy velvet cloak pooled at her feet. She looked so alone and vulnerable and frightened, and he wanted to roar his fury. The robbers' gazes were centered on Aubri, and the huge teardrop sapphire nestled between her creamy breasts—his gift to her before the ball. "Seems she's a right fine piece after all, milord. Looks like I'm gonna have to have her now." The highwayman lunged for her. Aubri screamed.

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A gun reported, the sound ricocheting through the night, followed by two successive shots. As the thunder echoed into the distance, no one moved. Silence. A low groan of agony broke the stillness. Alexande glared at the thug sprawled face down in the dirt. The bastard had dared to touch his Aubriana! His body reverberated with suppressed rage. The bloodlust still rolled through his veins. He wanted to whip out his saber and stab the bastard over and over again. Alex inhaled a deep breath, and called upon his iron control to the crush the violent urge. Considering the blood oozing from the hole at the back of the man's skull, the cur had finally met his doom. "We've got a live one here, milord," George called as he jabbed a highwayman with the end of his musket. Alexande made his way to the footman. He knelt beside the brigand and removed his tricorn and kerchief. He unsheathed the thug's knife, and leaning forward, pressed it against the bastard's throat. "Who are you working for?" Alex demanded. The brigand slowly turned his head, his eyes glazed with pain. Alex was so furious, he could barely control himself. "Tell me who!" he snarled. The man opened and closed his mouth, like a fish floundering on the beach—but nary a sound escaped. Alex leaned forward and pressed his ear to the other's lips. "...Espion..." The name came out on a wispy breath. 376

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Alexande was livid. It meant the elusive son-of-a-bitch was fully aware of his mission. And this had been a murder attempt. He shuddered to think what they would have done to Aubri had they succeeded. He straightened and grasped the robber by the collar. "Who is he? Who is Espion?" Alex shook him hard. "Tell me who the bastard is!" The criminal gaped at him, his breathing labored. Suddenly he coughed violently, and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. His eyes rolled back and he went limp in Alex's grip. Alex released him and shot to his feet. "Damn it all to hell!" he roared. He stalked away from the body, his hands clenched tight, as he tried desperately to rein in his temper. It would be dangerous to lose it now. He had to clear his head, to think. Espion had to know Alex had taken the papers and the payment, or else he wouldn't have tried to kill him. The traitor knew Alex was close to discovering his identity and he couldn't risk it. It also meant the spy in his house had somehow found the papers, though he'd taken great care to hide them. He had to root out the spy immediately, before he or she helped Espion spring another trap—his life depended on it. "Milord?" John questioned. Alexande didn't bother to turn around. He scanned the downs and caught sight of three horses grazing near a copse. "Search the bodies for anything of interest, then drape them over the horses yonder, and tether them to the back of the carriage. We'll deliver them to the sheriff at dawn." He 377

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couldn't wait to walk into Hodgeson's office tomorrow and watch his bloated face turn pale with dread. "Aye, milord." Alex closed his eyes and inhaled the cool night air. He forced his rage to recede. If he was going to survive his enemy's traps, to capture his nemesis, he had to be utterly focused. He opened his eyes and spun around. How could I have forgotten her? Aubriana had not moved. She shook as she watched him, twin rivulets of tears streaming down her pale cheeks. Anguish glistened in her eyes, and he was filled with shame. Alexande rushed to her side and gathered her into his arms, holding her tight. "Aubri, my love, I'm so sorry," he murmured into her hair. She turned and buried her face against his chest, and wept. Her body shuddered with each sob as her tears soaked into his surcoat. He rubbed a hand up and down her back, desperate to comfort her. "Hush sweeting, we're safe now," he said softly. Releasing her for a moment, he grabbed her cloak and wrapped it around her. Alex scooped her into his arms and carried her into the carriage, and bade George to close the door behind them. Sitting on the squabs, he pulled Aubri onto his lap. Alex held her tight and rocked her like a child as she sobbed, his heart aching with an emotion he dare not name. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Thirty-Four **** Aubriana inhaled a shuddering breath. She was determined to suppress the sorrow squeezing her heart. She would not waste her last precious moments with Alexande grieving. There would be plenty of time for that later. She was leaving him. The attempted robbery had convinced her. But it hadn't been a robbery at all. She'd heard Alexande's shout as he questioned the dying highwayman. Espion had sent them to kill Alex, she was sure of it. And Aubri had the horrible feeling that she and her jewels were to have been their payment. She shuddered to think what might have been done to her. This game had taken a far too dangerous turn. Caught between Espion and Alexande she feared what might happen to her and her family when the two titans finally clashed. But it was the innocent babe growing in her belly whom she feared for most. She would not subject her babe to such horror, she had to protect it. Nor could she leave Alexande without one last night in his arms... "Aubriana." Aubri gasped as a shiver of anticipation slithered down her spine, hardening her nipples. This was it—their last glorious night of passion. Holding back her tears, she slowly turned around. 379

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**** Alexande stood in the centre of the Red Room. Desire pounded through his veins and squeezed his painfully hard cock. For the last three nights, Alex had refrained from making love to Aubri and had simply held her, sensing she needed his comfort more than his loving. But gazing at his lovely mistress now, he knew she was ready for more. She was dressed to provoke lust. Beneath the transparent negligee, she wore the black lace corset, sheer stockings, black ribbon garters, and black highheeled slippers he'd purchased for her in Poole. He'd never seen a more desirable woman in his life. Her rosy nipples were already hard with need. The golden curls crowning her thighs contrasted the black so perfectly, he wanted to push her onto the carpet and thrust between her pretty legs until he erupted into her womb. With her golden hair curling about her shoulders, she was the epitome of man's desire. Alex had never wanted to ravish a woman more. Aubri was consumed by need, consumed by the passion burning in his eyes. She wanted him to touch her everywhere—her lips, her aching breasts, the molten heat blazing between her thighs. But tonight, Aubri was determined to seduce him. Since becoming his mistress, she'd learned the art of seduction at his very skillful hands, had gloried in every sinful 380

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moment. Tonight, she would give him a night neither of them would ever forget. "Aubri," he murmured huskily as he strode toward her. She held out her hand, halting him, and slowly smiled. She was going to enjoy this. "Nay, my lord. I want to pleasure you this night. I want to make you...come," she whispered the word, passion making her daring. His eyes darkened and smoldered with lust. "And how do you propose to do that, my love?" "You need but instruct me, my lord, and I shall obey. Teach me." Alex had never seen her look so sexy, nor so determined. The yearning in her softly spoken words, the desire mirrored in her amethyst eyes, sent a bolt of desire straight into his loins. Oh, he would instruct her, he thought darkly. He would teach her how to pleasure him until he exploded in orgasmic bliss. Only then would he make her writhe in ecstasy, make her scream his name in the throes of mindless pleasure. It was time to take their lovemaking to a new level—she was more than ready. Alexande smiled. "Come here," he ordered softly. She glided toward him, her eyes sparkling with wanton mischief. The moment she was within reach, he slid his hand into her hair and kissed her hungrily. Her lips parted beneath his and he ravished her sweet mouth, plundering her moist depths with a savage sweep of his tongue. Their mouths 381

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mated with lips, teeth, and tongues—Alex was swept into a whirlwind of feral passion. He tugged loose the bow of her negligee before brushing it aside. He teased the corner of her luscious lips before kissing his way to the sensitive shell of her ear. He nipped it and she moaned. Alex trailed kisses down her slender throat before biting her shoulder with an animal growl. His body was on fire, his cock heavy with the lust pounding from his brain to the soles of his feet, and she'd yet to lay a hand on him. Pressing his face into the soft valley of her breasts, he kneaded the silken flesh. He teased a hardened nipple with the tip of his tongue, before pulling it into his mouth and sucking greedily. Aubri arched her back and moaned. She was dizzy from the pleasure rushing hot and fast through her veins. Her woman's core melted, her juices seeped past her nether lips. The fiery ache between her thighs was nearly unbearable. One touch and she was lost, her vow to pleasure him forgotten. He devoured her other breast with the same ferocity and Aubri nearly begged him to take her. Cool air caressed her skin. He was gone. Aubri opened her eyes and found him gazing at her with eyes almost black with desire. She was not faring any better—her heart beat erratically, her chest rose and fell with each panting breath, and her body trembled with need. Gods, how she wanted him! It took every ounce of Alexande's iron control to remove his hands and mouth from her, to keep from sliding to his knees and licking her sex. His gaze roved over her wet, 382

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distended nipples. She was so aroused, her eyes dilated. The sweet, musky scent of her juices filled the air, teasing his senses. He was painfully hard, but he wasn't about to spoil her seduction with haste. "Remove my robe," he commanded with lordly arrogance. Her smile was slow and seductive as she reached up and placed her hands on his shoulders. Alex had to fist his fingers to keep from touching her. Aubriana caressed his dark velvet robe, exploring the texture beneath her fingertips. Slowly she slid her hands down his chest to his waist and pulled on the sash. The garment fell open, pushed aside by his jutting erection. The purple head throbbed with the beat of his heart, and a single drop of clear liquid clung to the tip. She squeezed her thighs, her cleft aching at the sight of him hard and ready to take her. A gush of cream slid between her nether lips, and it was all she could do to bite back a moan. She never wanted him more, but this night was for Alex, and she was going to enjoy every delicious moment. She had to rise on her toes to push the robe off his shoulders. Her breasts brushed against his chest, and his cock teased her sex. Fire leapt between them. She jumped back, her eyes wide. "Oh my," she gasped, as she swept her gaze over every magnificent inch of his hard body. She might have made love to him dozens of times, this was the first she'd ever been allowed to look her fill. He was tall, powerful, and dangerous—steely strength coiled in every muscle and 383

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sinew—and yet he was the most gentle lover. Even in the throes of mindless passion, not once had he hurt her. "I want you to touch me, Aubri. Touch me all over," he said, his voice low. Slowly, Aubri reached up and ran her hands over his wide shoulders and down his broad chest—he was hot beneath her touch. The muscles rippled as she wove her fingers through the dark whorls of hair. She adored the crispness—the way his chest hair teased her nipples, and tickled her breasts whenever they made love. Discovering his male nipples, she teased them with her fingertips. On impulse, she leaned forward and licked a bud with the tip of her tongue. He groaned and slid his hands into her hair, holding her closer. She explored every glorious inch with her hands and mouth. Wantonly, she licked and teased her way down his torso, tasting his salty skin. His every groan was like a dart of fire racing through her blood. She sank to her knees, following the dark line of hair as it merged with the curls nesting his jutting arousal. A couple of months ago, Aubri would have never dreamed of kissing and caressing a man's body; now she couldn't get enough. It was Alex who had introduced her to the addictive pleasures of the flesh, and she yearned to repay him tenfold. Alexande watched her every move: the rise and fall of her lush breasts, her tongue darting out to lick her lips, her fingers twitching on his hips as she gazed at his cock. He knew by the passion burning in her eyes, she was ready to pleasure him with her hands and mouth. He'd never wanted anything more. 384

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But she was nervous. He placed his hands on her shoulders and gently massaged the tension from the knotted muscles. He cupped her cheek and forced her to meet his gaze. "'It's alright, Aubri. I want you to touch me, to explore every inch of my cock to your heart's content. I know it's what you desire." Wordlessly, she leaned forward and flicked her tongue along the tip of his shaft, stealing the glistening drop. She closed her eyes and moaned, and Alex nearly came out of his skin. She opened her eyes and wrapped her hand around him, holding his rigid flesh. "Stroke me like I taught you," Alex commanded hoarsely. He wrapped his hand around hers, and together they rubbed him, up and down. Flames burst in his loins. The moment she caught the erotic rhythm, he released her, and slid his hands into her hair to gently massage her scalp. She laved the entire length of his shaft, before circling the pulsating head with the tip of her tongue. She licked a sensitive spot beneath the ridge and he shuddered. She dragged her lips down his hard length till she reached his raven curls, before journeying back up. Enthralled by his guttural sounds of pleasure, she licked, and kissed, and teased his cock. She lapped every drop of pearly liquid to well on the tip of the heart-shaped cap. She'd never known it could be so exciting to pleasure a man this way. Alex's hands tightened in her hair as bursts of pleasure rippled up and down his spine. He groaned as the minx slid the head of his shaft into her scorching, wet mouth. The sight 385

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of her luscious lips wrapped around his cockstand was so erotic, he nearly came. Slowly he thrust his hips forward, forcing her to take more into the delicious wet heat. His balls tightened, bliss burst in his brain as she began to suck him, her tongue teasing the cluster of nerves at the base of the head. She pumped her hand up and down his shaft as she took more. "Aubri," he growled. Gods, she was driving him insane. His pulse thundered in his ears, his chest heaved with every breath, his testicles tightened with every flick of her tongue. He was on the verge of coming in her mouth, but Alex wanted to bury himself in her tight little sheath when he came. She gazed at him bewildered when he pulled his cock from her mouth. He knew by the gleam in her eyes, her soft panting breath, and the hardness of her nipples, she'd enjoyed pleasuring him. And Alex was about to repay her in full. He walked behind her and slid to his knees. Leaning into her, he brushed her hair aside and nuzzled the nape of her neck. "Onto your hands and knees, my love," he murmured against her skin. She shivered and slowly moved into position. Alex slid over her, rubbing his chest against her back. He wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her to him. His cock bucked against her soft buttocks as he inhaled the rich scent of her arousal. He rubbed his lips against her 386

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shoulder and kissed and laved her delectable skin. She was deliciously sweet and salty. Cupping her breasts, he kneaded the firm mounds as he licked and nipped her ear. She moaned as he kissed his way down her spine. Alex glided a hand down her soft belly and dove into the moist curls. He dragged his finger over her nether lips and groaned against her back. "Mmm, Aubri," he growled in her ear, "you're so hot and wet...so hungry for me." He thrust his finger into her sex and nearly came. She was scorching, her passage dripping with cream, her clit pulsating. He brushed his thumb across the nub and she spasmed, a wail of pleasure bursting from her lips. "Alexande...please," she moaned, rocking against his hand. He slipped his hand from her slick core and slid over her back. Slowly, he eased his throbbing cock into her sheath. He hissed as he thrust hilt deep. She was so hot, so wet, so tight it was heaven being buried inside her. He pulled out and thrust back, stroking deep. Aubri gasped and arched her back. He filled her in a way she'd ever experienced before. The pleasure was so acute, it bordered on pain. He cupped her aching breasts and thrust in and out in slow, languid strokes—driving her passion higher and higher. Yet it wasn't enough. She moaned and pushed back, grinding her sex against his cock, desperate to feel him harder, deeper inside her. 387

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"Please," Aubri gasped, "take me harder." Alex growled and bit her shoulder. He pumped harder and faster into her wet heat, driving himself into her. He was so hungry for her, he couldn't pump his shaft deep enough into her wet cunny. He caressed her silken skin, kissed, licked and bit her flesh as he rammed his cockstand in and out, over and over, the need for release maddening. Every gasp, every moan to slip from her lips drove him deeper into the realm of animal lust. He'd never felt so out of control, so consumed by passion. His pulse roared, the blood pounded into his shaft, his balls tightened, as he moved closer and closer to climax. He slid his finger through her slick folds and found her clit. He rubbed it to his thrusts, until she was writhing against him like a cat in heat. Aubriana's eyes flew open and she ground her sheath hard against his shaft. A scream tore from her lips as a wave of pleasure broke over her, consuming her from head to toe. She imploded with voracious ecstasy and soared to the heights of orgasmic bliss she'd never thought possible. Alexande groaned as her sex contracted around his cock. He drove harder, faster, and plunged into the abyss. He shouted her name as his hot seed burst into her convulsing sheath, and pumped himself into the most intense orgasm of his life. Their bodies locked, each straining against the other, milking every last drop of euphoric pleasure, before collapsing onto the rug in a heap of sated flesh. It was a long moment before Alex found the strength to move. Though he'd never known such pleasure with any woman, he was far from sated—he would never have enough 388

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of her. He slipped from her body and gently stripped her of corset, stockings, garters, and slippers. Scooping her into his arms, he carried her to bed. They tumbled onto the satin sheets, laughing and kissing. He gazed into her eyes and worshipped her from head to toe. All night long, he made passionate love to her, and showed her with his body what Alex could not bring himself to say with words. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Thirty-Five **** Aubri awoke to the sing-song chorus of birds flitting outside her windows. She sat bolt upright, her pulse quickening. Holding her breath, she turned and gazed beside her—empty. Her heart plummeted at the sight of rumpled sheets. Alex had deserted her in the night. She doubled over, and wept bitter tears. It was over. Last night had been the most beautiful and erotic experience of her life. She'd lost track of the number of times they'd made love in the darkness—wild and passionate, slow and gentle. More than once, she'd seen deep emotion in his eyes. They'd been linked heart, body and soul. But now it was lost. Aubri told herself it didn't matter. How could she possibly spend her life with a traitor? With a man whose only future was swinging from the gibbet? And then there was Espion. She didn't know where he fit in all of this, but she knew him to be just as dangerous as Alexande—if not more so. It was best this way. With great effort she straightened, and dried the tears from her eyes. She was stronger than this. She would not let her heart shatter into a thousand pieces, not before she was safely ensconced in some nameless town far away. 390

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She would go to her family's farm, warn Bram of the dire danger he was in. She would then give half the blunt she'd earned as Alexande's mistress to her parents, and then she would disappear. She didn't know how she was going to leave her family behind, but she had no choice. It was the only way to ensure their safety as well as that of her unborn child. Whipping back the covers, she slipped from the bed. Aubri was determined to have this horrible day behind her. She paused, catching a movement out of the corner of her eyes. Chaton rolled around the carpet, playfully clawing a ball of yarn. Tears welled as she recalled the day Alex had gifted her the kitten. She would never forget his kindness. Sniffing back her tears, Aubri flung open the wardrobe door. He'd given her dozens of beautiful gowns, but she would take nary a one. She ran her hand over the gold and peacock dress she'd worn at the ball. She never dreamed she'd own such fine things, but they were no longer hers. She pushed past the fancy gowns and reached deep into the wardrobe until she located her simple blue dress. It had been her Sunday best once. Now it seemed old and tattered. Quickly she donned it. Her only consent to luxury was a muslin chemise, and a pair of silk stockings and garters. She'd finished braiding her hair when Molly walked into her chamber, carrying her morning chocolate. Her friend set the tray on the night stand and regarded her with surprise. "Aubri, what do ye think yer doin'?" Aubriana would miss Molly's gossip, her frank advice and easy smile. She'd never known a truer friend. Nor could Aubri bring herself to lie to her. 391

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"I'm leaving." Molly stared. "Ye can't be serious. Why would ye leave? Ye've got everythin' ye could possible want." No, she didn't have everything. She didn't hold the heart of the man she loved. Nor would she ever. "I don't. But it makes no difference." "Och dove, yer in love with him." The sympathy in Molly's eyes was nearly Aubri's undoing. "It doesn't matter." Molly walked to her side and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "Dove, I'm so sorry, I failed ye. I should have warned ye of the consequences. But where will ye go?" "My family will take me," Aubri lied. It was the best for all concerned if even Molly didn't know where she was going. "Och dove, ye cannot put all yer hopes in them. Sometimes, when ye need it most, they turn their backs on ye. I pray yers doesn't. But Aubri, are ye sure you should go? Think of all yer leaving behind, ye'll never have an opportunity like this again." Aubriana pulled away from her friend. "You don't understand. There are too many dangers now. I can't stay here anymore. I must protect my child, even if I must leave my heart behind." Molly took her hand and squeezed it. "Aubri, I don't understand what's happenin' but ye must be sure, for once ye leave, there's no turnin' back. And one day, ye may regret yer choice. I know of what I speak."

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Aubri shook her head sadly, unable to keep her tears from falling. "I'm sorry Molly, but I've made my choice. I must leave this place and Alexande." Molly's eyes glistened with unshed tears. "I understand, dove. But yer goin' to need a bleedin' carriage to take all these dresses—" Aubri cut her off with a shake of her head. "I'm not taking them." Molly reared back. "Don't be daft, Aubri. These were given to ye to do with as ye please. Ye can't just leave them behind!" "I have everything I could possibly want," Aubri said quietly as she laid a hand on her belly. "All I need is a basket to carry Chaton." Molly regarded her for a long moment, before relenting. "Aye dove, I'll fetch ye a basket. But...if yer family will not take ye in...I have an aunt in Wiltshire who would be happy to offer ye a home." Smiling through her tears, Aubri hugged her friend. She would be sure to avoid Wiltshire, for she would never endanger Molly's aunt, but she was touched all the same. "Thank you, Molly, for everything." "Och Aubri, yer goin' to get me cryin'," Molly admonished. Aubriana laughed despite her heartache. "You were a good friend." "I still am, and don't ye forget it!" Molly exclaimed as she hugged back. "Just be careful dove, it's a dangerous world out there. Now let me find that basket for the kitten." Without another word, Molly released her and left. 393

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Aubriana breathed a sigh of relief. Now there was one last thing she had to do before she left. She had to tell Alexande of Espion. She couldn't leave without warning him of the impending danger. She might not like the things Alex had done, but she still loved him with all her heart. Even if she had to reveal her part in deceiving him, she had to make sure Alex was safe. She glanced at the silver tray, spotting a bright red rose and a large velvet box. Gifts from Alexande. Unable to resist, she wandered over to the table and plucked the rose to inhale its delicate fragrance. Beneath it was a folded note with two words written in his bold script. My Love She choked back tears and opened the note. To the most Beautiful woman I have ever known. R. Her heart spasmed and the words blurred before her eyes. Did Alex care as deeply for her as she did him? Was it possible he might even love her? She shook her head—she was being a fool. Her beloved marquis was a rogue. He knew how to charm, seduce, and flatter. My love was simply an endearment uttered to soften a woman's heart. It meant nothing to him. Aubri set aside the flower and note, and stared at the large velvet box. This gift no more belonged to her than the rest of the gowns and jewels she was leaving behind. He should save it for his next mistress. But curiosity got the better of her. Reluctantly, she lifted the lid to peak inside...and gasped.

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Lying on a bed of black velvet was a huge heart-shaped ruby framed with gold lace filigree on a heavy gold chain. It was so perfect, so beautiful, it took her breath away. A tear slipped from her lashes and splashed on the gem. There was great significance behind the gift, and the rose, and the note, she could sense it. But it was too late. She snapped the lid shut and stared at the box as the tears rolled down her cheeks. It only confirmed her fears—she had to leave now, before she became a slave to her heart. **** Alexande ground his teeth in frustration. Four days had passed since the bastard had tried to kill him, and still he did not know Espion's identity. The morning after the failed attempt on his life, Alex had taken the bodies to the sheriff, and as he'd expected, Orwald had turned as white as snow, his jowls quivering with fear. After a little bribery and much coercion, he'd pried what he needed from a very reluctant Hodgeson. The men were as he suspected, part of a gang of hardened criminals who worked the local Hundreds. Unlike Willy Seamus and the local smugglers, these men would do anything for the right amount of blunt. They'd been following Espion's orders. But no matter how much Alex had threatened the sheriff, he'd refused to tell him anything more. Orwald was scared— and rightfully so. If Espion even suspected the sheriff was a 395

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liability, he would have Hodgeson killed without a second thought. And Alexande was running out of time. Sooner or later, the traitor would make another attempt, and this time he might succeed. What would happen to Aubriana? Would she be killed too? His heart clenched at the unspeakable thought. But first things first, he needed to root out the spy in his household immediately. There had been too many coincidences at the robbery. The thugs had known the woman travelling with him was his mistress, and they'd known about the tear drop sapphire necklace he'd gifted her the evening of the ball. And once again, his secret papers had been disturbed when he came in this morning. Mayhap it was time to lay a trap...Someone knocked on the study door. "Come in," he called absently. He glanced up as the portal opened, and Aubri stepped inside. Surprised, he raked his gaze down her body. Her attire was terribly drab, like that of a servant and not his mistress. Her hair was plaited in a single braid, and her visage was pale and drawn. Her eyes were red-rimmed as though she'd been crying. Softly, she closed the door behind her and walked to his desk. Without a word, she placed a large velvet box amongst the clutter. Refusing to meet his gaze, she turned and marched to the hearth. Alex studied her for a long moment as icy thorns of dread stabbed his heart. He picked up the box and frowned. He 396

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knew the contents before he even lifted the lid—the ruby heart lay undisturbed upon its bed of velvet. Setting down the box, he shot to his feet. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded. Slowly she turned around, and met his gaze with glistening eyes. "I cannot accept your gift, my lord," she replied softly. My lord. Last night, it had been merely a playful game of master and pleasure slave. But this morning, the words took on a completely different meaning. Was she deliberately putting distance between them? His gut churned at the thought. "What do you mean?" he asked coolly. His chest tightened painfully at the raw emotion in her eyes. She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. "I cannot accept any more of your gifts, my lord, because I'm leaving." Leaving? Something vital twisted inside him. "What do you mean, leaving?" he asked low. "I...I am ending our...liaison, my lord. It is over." She said it with such finality he was staggered. He stared at her, reeling from the sharp pain stabbing his chest, his soul wailing with an agony he'd not thought possible. Had she declared herself the murderous traitor, Espion, it could not have hurt him more. "Why, goddamn it! Tell me why?" he snarled, the words exploding like a gun shot from his lips. If she was going destroy him, he bloody well wanted to know why. "Because I wish to go home." What a damn lame excuse! Raw agony tore him in two and bled into his soul. 397

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Furious, he rounded the desk and marched to her. Gripping her arms, he glared down at her. "That's bloody bullshit! We both know you can visit your family anytime. Now tell me why!" Mutely, she stared up at him, her eyes round with fear. "Damn it, tell me why!" he roared, and shook her till her teeth rattled. "Because it's too dangerous," she blurted as tears streamed down her cheeks. "The robbery the other night proved as much." Alex stilled. He could do not but stare at her. He was sickened to the pit of his soul. Slowly the nausea crept through his entire being until he was numb to the bone. His suspicions had been correct all along. His beloved Aubri was the spy. Alex released her at once and stepped back. He closed his eyes and called upon every ounce of strength in his possession to keep himself upright. His nemesis had won. Slowly Alexande opened his eyes. It was painful to even look at her. "Ah yes, the masquerade," he murmured. Was it possible she was in terrible danger because the highwaymen had failed? Would Espion kill her too? Angrily, he shoved the thoughts from his mind. Bah, what a weak-kneed fool he'd become. It was not his place to worry about the deceitful little bitch. He spun on his heel and stalked to the desk, unable to stand the sight of her. He braced his hands against the oiled mahogany, and his shoulders slumped in defeat. 398

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All along he'd suspected her, yet he'd been unable to see past her innocence, her beauty, her charm. She'd been sent to entice him, to keep him panting and sawing away between her pretty thighs, all the while betraying him to his enemy. Innocence. What a bloody damn fool he'd been! He'd let himself fall for her beguiling innocence, had duped himself into believing she was different—different from his mother, different from every other conniving, deceiving female. His enemy had found the one weakness he'd not known in himself. Alex's eyes widened. The riding gloves! The woman's gloves he'd found at the church, they had to be Aubri's. He must have interrupted her before she'd taken the packet of letters and coins to Espion. The day he'd caught her going through the books in his study—she must have been searching for his secret papers. He'd thought it odd. Bloody Hell. How could he have been so blind? But what was worse, he'd let her under his skin, had given her the key to his heart. And in return, she'd stolen his soul. **** Aubri stared at his back, completely bewildered by his reaction. Had she been mistaken? Had Alexande cared for her more than she'd realized? The raw agony she'd glimpsed in his eyes was tearing her soul apart. If only she'd known...but it was too late now. Far too late. She had to leave before her soul was rent asunder. 399

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Yet she still had to warn him of Espion. But how could she now? After witnessing his rage, Aubri knew with a certainty he would hate her once he knew of her deceit. How could she bear it when she loved him so deeply? But could she walk away knowing his life was in danger? "I'm leaving all the gowns and jewels behind," she said softly. "I...I...do not want the fifty pounds you promised me when our liaison ended." He straightened at her words, and slowly turned around. "I'm not entirely surprised." His voice was as cold as ice, and his wolf eyes as hard as steel. He looked dangerous...menacing. Dread filled her heart. "Did you get word you were no longer needed?" Aubri swallowed. His gaze narrowed as he stalked her. He grabbed her arms, his hands as hard as iron manacles, meshing flesh with bone. "Did you get paid well for your services? Is that why you don't need any more money from me?" His voice rose with each word. He glared down at her, his gaze frigid and lifeless. It was chilling. "I...I d-don't know what you're talking about," she stammered, casting her gaze downward. She couldn't tell him the truth. "You lying little bitch!" he roared, shaking her violently. "All of this was nothing more than a ploy, an act to keep me occupied, pumping hard and fast between your milky thighs while that bastard continued with his schemes. You're spying for him aren't you?" Aubri's gaze flew to his. Dear gods, he knows! 400

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"Aren't you!" he shouted, his eyes glowing with fury. "Yes, yes!" Aubri cried, breaking down. She couldn't lie to him anymore, not when he'd guessed the truth. At her admission, he threw her from him. She nearly fell into the hearth, but caught herself on the mantle. Disgusted, he turned away. Aubri buried her face in her hands and wept. Her heart, her soul, poured out in an endless stream of tears. She'd hurt and betrayed the man she loved, and now he hated her. But what else could she have done? Alexande had been a stranger when Sheriff Hodgeson recruited her. She'd thought she was doing her duty to king and country. And then she'd found those papers and the coins proving Alex was a traitor just as Hodgeson had warned. But after falling in love with him she had tried to get out. By the gods she had tried! But Espion had threatened her brother's life, because he knew Bram had murdered Sir Dunn. What would Alex expect her to do? Bram was her brother. His life was at stake. She had to protect him, to protect her family. She would do anything to see them safe. But she had done so at a terrible price. She'd lost the man of her heart. "Please Alex, you must understand, I had no choice. I never meant to hurt you. I never wanted to deceive you," she sobbed. She knew the words were useless but she had to say them. She loved him, she was carrying his child. He had to know everything—no matter what he might think of her.

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"But you did, my love," he said coldly, mocking her with the endearment. "And if there is one thing I cannot stand, it is a traitor." Aubri's head snapped up. What? What did he mean by that? Wasn't he a traitor to his own king and country? But before she could question him, a bellow echoed outside the study door. "Where is that son-of-a-bitch? Where is that coward of a marquis?! Ravenspur, come out here you bastard, and face me like a man!" "Bram?" [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Thirty-Six **** Alexande stared at Aubriana—she was just as surprised as he. The study door burst open to admit a frazzled Wiggins. "What the bloody hell is going on?" Alex demanded. His butler looked decidedly pale. "Forgive me, my lord, but it would seem a Mr. Welbery is here to see you." His prim announcement was completely at odds with the bellows floating into the room. "I see." Alex gazed narrowly at Aubri. Why the hell would her brother storm the mansion like a ranting lunatic? "Aubri," he said sharply, "you will stay here. Do you understand?" She blinked and nodded. Alex stalked from the room, shoving Wiggins in front of him, before slamming the study door shut. What the hell could her brother want? Was this some scheme Aubri and Bram had cooked up? Alex ground his teeth at the thought. He wouldn't put anything past the deceitful bitch. This couldn't possibly have anything to do with the papers Bram had promised to bring. "What is the meaning of this?" Alexande demanded as he marched down the staircase into the great hall. 403

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"You bloody bastard!" Bram roared. His voice reverberated across the vaulted chamber. "I'll kill you for what you've done." He lunged at Alex, his fists flailing wildly, like an enraged boxer in a drunken stupor. Alex easily dodged the clumsy blow. "What are you talking about?" Alexande queried calmly. Bram panted as he took another swing...and missed. "You know bloody well what the hell I'm talking about you sodding whoreson," the irate smuggler shouted. "I should kill you for what you've done to her!" Alex stared at him as he evaded the man's wild swings. Why would her brother be so angry? It was not as if Bram knew he was breaking things off with his sister. Hell, he didn't even know about their deal. Alexande frowned, displeased with this very public scene Bram was making. "Instead of shouting and wasting your energy trying to beat me to a bloody pulp, why don't we go to the library and talk about this like civilized men. If you still feel like meeting me on the field of honor, we can set a date there." Bram glared at Alex for a long moment, his hands clenched, his chest heaving. "Very well," he growled. **** "You bastard! I'm going to kill you," Bram raged the moment Alex shut the library door behind them. "What is it you think I've done?" Alexande asked, wondering what sin he was being accused of now—though he could certainly hazard a guess. 404

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"Don't act like you don't know, you black-guard. You paid our father two hundred pounds so you could make my sister a strumpet!" Surprised, Alex regarded the hot head. "I don't know what you're talking about." "You son-of-a-bitch. Don't you dare play stupid with me. I noticed my father acting out of place about a month after my sister came to work for you. Then Aubri questioned me how father could possibly afford a new horse, not to mention the furniture and new clothes for all of us. It got me thinking. "I wasn't about to question my father, so I decided to look into it. I started talking to your servants and came across a maid who didn't know I was Aubri's brother. Becky was quite forthcoming, sharing every tawdry detail. You took my sweet, innocent sister and turned her into your harlot!" Alexande's eyes narrowed, his own temper rising. "I warned you never to call your sister a whore to me, or you would reap the consequences," he growled. "Oh, that's bloody rich." Bram threw his hands into the air. "You pay my father two hundred pounds to make Aubriana your mistress, to steal her virginity, and you don't want me to call her a whore?! What did you do to her, you bastard? Did you rape her? Is that how you turned her into your slut?" Without warning, he tackled Alex, fists flying. They crashed onto an elegant table, sending a vase smashing to the floor. Her hot headed brother managed to hit him twice before Alex laid the younger man low with a blow to his jaw. Alex stood and jerked his clothing straight, furious he'd let the younger man pull him into a scuffle. 405

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"Now, you will listen to me," Alexande began as he glared down at Bram. "No, I never paid your father to make Aubri my mistress. Do you honestly believe your father would sell his own daughter? I think not. However, pride does funny things to a man, and I suspect that is what is happening with your father. "Yes, I sent men to repair the house and barn, and yes I gave your father two hundred pounds. Not for Aubriana, but because I saw that your family was suffering from my neglect. Your sister becoming my mistress had nothing to do with it. "And let me make this very clear to you, I do not rape women. Not once have I ever forced my unwanted attentions on any woman, including Aubri. She willingly became my mistress, and she willingly came to my bed, remember that!" **** Aubriana stared at the study door. Why would Bram storm into Bournemouth? Unless...he'd discovered the truth about her and Alexande. Heat suffused her cheeks. What Bram must think of her? It was quiet now, the shouting had ceased. She knew Alex had taken Bram to the library. Suddenly she wondered what he was telling her brother. She couldn't bear it if he revealed she'd been spying for Espion. Bram would be furious. But what was worse, he would be ashamed of her.

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But Alex was too shrewd for that. He would never reveal to anyone how she'd used and humiliated him. She wondered what lies he was telling her brother instead. A spark of anger ignited at the thought. No doubt Alexande would weave a tapestry of lies so thick her brother would smother in it. Aubriana turned and began pacing before the hearth. She was desperate to fill the aching void inside her. So she fuelled her fury until it became a full conflagration. It was clear to her now that Alex had never cared for her, never felt an ounce of love for her. How easily he'd turned on her. And how dare he judge her when he was a traitor and a murderer! She may have spied for his enemy, but she'd done it in the name of duty for the king. She spun around and headed for the portal, unable to stand another moment in his study, in his house. It was over between them, there could be no denying it. She would not have him marching in the study to resume his tirade. Aubri had to leave. Now. She thrust open the door and strode into the hall. Belatedly she looked to be sure she was alone. No one was around. Softly she closed the door behind her and sprinted down the gallery. Alexande had broken her heart and she had broken his. There was nothing left for them to say. She bounded down the stairs and broke into a run when she reached the great hall. And bumped into Wiggins. 407

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He reached out and steadied her—his hands lingering. Concern filled his kind eyes. "Is everything all right, Miss Welbery?" Everything was certainly not all right! "I can't do this anymore. I'm leaving him," she stated hollowly. Wiggins stared at her, clearly alarmed. "But Miss Welbery, I thought you loved...it here." Her soul bled a little at his words. She knew he meant that she loved Alex. Tears stung the back of her eyes, and her vision wavered. No! She would not shed another tear for that bastard. She must keep her anger alive. She sniffed back her tears and lifted her chin. "No, there is no love here, Wiggins, if there ever was..." "But, Miss Welbery—" "No!" she cried as wrenched herself away from the butler. She could not allow Wiggins to persuade her. "I'm leaving, Wiggins, you cannot stop me." Before he could say another word, Aubriana picked up her skirts and ran through the great hall. She didn't stop until she stepped outside into the sunshine. Aubri gazed up at the sun and cursed. The day didn't deserve to be so warm and bright, not when her world was falling apart around her. To her horror, tears were welling in her eyes. The anger wasn't strong enough to keep them at bay. So she ran. 408

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She darted around the magnificent mansion and didn't stop until she reached the stables. She stepped into the gloom and inhaled deeply of the cool air. Aubri would take Pippa and ride to her family. She would send someone to get her meager things, and she would not leave Chaton behind. She walked to Pippa's stall on determined strides. The mare neighed a soft greeting as Aubriana drew near. Aubri rubbed the dapple-grey's muzzle before opening the stall door. She wouldn't bother with a saddle, it would take too much time, and she needed to leave immediately before anyone else tried to stop her. She unhooked the bridle from the wall, and gently coerced Pippa into taking the bit. Leading the mare outside, Aubriana squinted against the too bright sunshine. A shadow suddenly loomed before her. "Alex?" Had he come after her? For an instant, hope burst inside of her. A hand snaked out and grabbed her arm, crushing flesh and bone. She hissed in pain. "Sorry luv, yer bloke's not 'ere to rescue ye," came the crude reply. She was spun around, and her eyes widened as she found herself gazing up at four strange men. "Wh-who are you?" she whispered. Their clothes were filthy, covered in dust as though from a long, hard ride. Beneath their tricorns, their eyes glittered hard like diamonds as they stared at her. Flintlocks and daggers hung from their belts. Danger emanated from them 409

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in waves. These were hard bitten men like the highwaymen who'd tried to rob her and Alexande. But these men did not leer at her, but stared at her as if she was nothing more than a slab of meat. "I didn't think it was goin' to be this easy, Bryan, but then Fulthrop had promised to lure the gel out." "I don't give a damn what that bitch promised, we got 'er and that's all that matters," Bryan spat as he turned and began dragging Aubriana behind him. "Wait, where are you taking me?" Aubri cried as she dug her heels into the dirt, and tugged on the hand clamped about her arm. Bryan turned back, his eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. "Keep yer mouth shut if ye know what's good for ye!" he snarled. He jerked her forward, and for a moment, Aubri lost her footing. Her right slipper came off, but her captor didn't slow down. "Why are you doing this?" Aubri demanded, still fighting to free herself. "Because, Espion sent us to fetch ye, and so we fetched ye." Aubri went cold inside. Dear gods, Espion was behind this? What could this mean? "Bring the mare. Espion doesn't want Ravenspur to know she's been taken until it's too late." "Aye, Bryan." They had rounded the corner of the stables, where Aubri saw four horses waiting. Dread sank like a rock to the pit of her stomach. This side of the stables was hidden from the 410

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great house. No one would know what had become of her. She had to get away, to escape now before they took her to Espion. They reached the horses. She had but one chance. As her kidnapper grasped for a length of rope hanging from his saddle, Aubri slipped her hand inside her bodice and pulled out the dagger Alexande had gifted her. Gripping the handle hard, she plunged it into Bryan's arm. He roared in pain. The instant he released her, she tore away. Terror thrummed through her veins as she raced around the stables. If she could only reach the great house, then she would be safe. "Fuck!" someone swore behind her. "Get the bitch." Her pulsed thundered in her ears and she could hear nothing but her own breath sawing in and out of her lungs. Where was the stable master? What had happened to the stable boys? She screamed as an arm slipped around her waist and lifted her off the ground. She fought and kicked and clawed with all her might. Her captor swung her around and began hauling her back to the horses. A hand clamped over her mouth, and she bit it so hard, she tasted blood. "Jesus!" the man swore behind her, and let her go. She hit the ground hard, her knees nearly giving way. But she couldn't fall, not now. With a final burst of strength, Aubriana straightened and fled. 411

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She yelped as she was yanked to a sudden halt. Someone had caught her hair and was pulling her back. Tears slid down her cheeks as she reached up and grabbed for her braid. But no matter how hard she tried, she could not release herself without tearing her hair out by the roots. One of the men appeared before her then—Bryan. He cradled his arm against his chest, blood dripped onto the ground. He snarled as he glared down at her. "Fucking whore." He slugged her in the jaw and her world went black. **** Alex stared blindly out the window. How dare Aubri's brother storm into his house and make threats! Bram was a bloody fool—a smuggler and an unwitting mule for a spy—what right had he to judge? Besides, Bram had nothing to say concerning their relationship. That was between Alex and Aubri. Alex had done nothing wrong—he'd offered her a proposal and she'd accepted. He was furious with her for her deceptions, but he could never hurt her—against all logic, Alex realized he still cared for her, far more than he wanted to admit. Then why was he consumed by feelings of guilt and dread? Because he had hurt her. He'd seen the agony in her eyes when he had thrust her from him. The raw pain—he had caused that. And now he didn't know what to do, about either sibling. 412

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Though Bram had stormed out of the library without issue, Alex feared her brother was foolish enough to call him out. He didn't want to kill the man, but Alexande didn't lay down his life for anyone, except his sister, brother, and Aubriana. Alex's heart flipped in his chest. After her betrayal and lies, he would give his life for her? The notion was so shocking, it rocked him to his core. Suddenly the truth he'd been desperate to ignore, had been unwilling to acknowledge glared him straight in the face. I love Aubriana. All this time, he'd struggled to remain cool and aloof, to hide behind his ice filled heart, and she'd slipped past all his defenses leaving him as weak as a babe. I love Aubriana. The litany echoed with each thunderous beat of his heart. He was so overwhelmed with joy and sorrow, he didn't know whether to shout to the heavens or break down and cry. Alex shook his head, and wondered if he'd finally lost his bloody mind. He slid into the nearest chair. What irony. For years he'd pursued women, seduced and lured them by any means into his bed. And once he'd taken his pleasure, he walked away, not giving a damn to the broken hearts he left behind. Now he was in love with a woman who didn't give a damn about him in return. How could she? She spied for his enemies while seducing him with her feminine wiles, sinking her claws into his heart and soul. Alex had never known such despair. 413

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He rested his elbows on his knees and cradled his head in his hands, and stared at the intricate patterns of the Persian carpet. He could not let her go. It would kill him if she left him now. For despite her deception, Aubri was the most stunning and enchanting woman he'd ever known. And she had awakened within him a fierce hunger he'd been unwilling to acknowledge—the need for love. Since the terrible day his mother had shot him, Alex had cut himself off from every soft and tender emotion. He'd refused to believe that he needed anything from women other than a means to satisfy his carnal appetites. But Aubriana had showed him otherwise. She'd ripped open the festering wound inside him, and filled his aching soul with peace. She'd healed his battered heart and thrown his world into turmoil. When he held her in his arms, he felt whole, complete. And their passion was nothing less than spectacular. Alex needed to spend the rest of his life holding her, loving her, drying her tears, making her smile, and raising their children... But would she ever love him? When he'd confronted her, her tears and her sorrow had been real. He'd witnessed the anguish in her eyes. She had to feel something for him. Then why had she betrayed him? Alex's head snapped up. Was it possible Espion had forced her to spy on him? Had the bastard threatened her brother or her family? He knew 414

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she was fiercely loyal to her kin, would do anything to protect them. Hadn't Aubri said as much? "Please Alex, you must understand, I had no choice. I never meant to hurt you. I never wanted to deceive you..." Alexande bounded out the chair, his heart a hundred times lighter than a moment before. She didn't have to leave him. He would protect Aubri and her family. He would keep them safe. He was so close to catching the traitor, he could taste it. Mayhap she even knew the bastard's identity! Alex ran out of the library to the study, his soul as light as air. He would make it up to her for his abominable behaviour. He would draw her into his arms, dry her tears, and kiss her senseless. Then he would make love to her before the fire— slowly, softly. He would shower her with gifts: gowns, jewels, his love—whatever she desired. He would get down on his knees and beg her to stay if he had to, anything to keep her by his side. Alex thrust open the door and marched inside. His smile faded, and a hollow ache filled his chest as his sharp gaze scanned every shadow and crevice. The study was empty. Aubriana was gone. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Thirty-Seven **** Where the hell is she!? Frantic, Alexande searched the house for Aubriana—not an easy task by any means. She was nowhere to be found. He'd spoken to Molly who'd been tight-lipped and angry. He'd investigated every bloody room in the mammoth mansion, only to remain empty-handed. He'd questioned every damn servant he could find, but no one had seen her. Alex was at his wits end when he ran into Wiggins in the great hall. The butler looked decidedly pale. "My lord, I must speak with you," the servant urged. Alex pivoted on his heel, and stalked toward the servant's stairs. "Wiggins, I don't have the time. I have to find Aubri." "But that's just it, my lord, I have seen her." Alexande spun back. "Where?" Wiggins hesitated. "Damn it man, where the hell have you seen her?" Alex thundered. Sorrow filled the butler's eyes. "She's gone, my lord," he said quietly. "What do you mean gone?" "She left over an hour ago. She said she couldn't take it anymore. I fear she's gone for good." Aubriana was gone? 416

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She left me... Searing agony engulfed him, and left him unbearably raw and empty in its wake. For one fleeting moment Alex had held love in his grasp, had known pure passion and like sand pouring through his fingers, it had slipped away. He'd lost her. Pain tore through his soul. It felt like she'd ripped out his heart and ground it into a bloody pulp. An unfamiliar heat stung the back of his eyes, and Alexande was horrified to realize they were tears. No woman had ever filled him with such glorious joy, nor such utter despair. Not even his mother. "My lord, are you all right?" Wiggins asked, concerned. Alex turned his back on his butler. He couldn't bear the man to see him like this—laid low and on the verge of tears. He'd finally discovered something worth living for, worth fighting for, and she'd left him. Desperately, Alex held back the tide of sorrow. He refused to break down before his man, he would not display his weakness for so many to see. As he fought the terrible emptiness, something inside him awakened. It started low in his toes, and slowly burned its way into every hollow until Alex was vibrating with fury. How dare she leave me like this! He wanted to rant and rave like a lunatic. He wanted to smash something to bits, to hack the furniture to pieces. He wanted to vent his spleen on everyone within hearing distance. But Alex would not unleash his rage on innocents. Clenching his fists, he brought his temper to heel. He would 417

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save his rage for the one who deserved it—for Aubriana had betrayed him for the last time. A calmness blanketed him, and cool determination replaced the tension and agony of the moment before. He would find her. And once Aubriana was in his clutches, she would never escape him again—he would see to it. He smiled darkly. He was going to punish her for her crimes. Oh, he could not harm her, could never hit or hurt her, but he would not hesitate to use her passion against her. He would seduce her into submission, he would enslave Aubri—mind, body, and soul—until she was so consumed by her need for him, she would never even think of leaving him. Not that he was ever letting her out of his sight. Alex slowly turned around and leveled his gaze on Wiggins. "Did she take the carriage?" he asked coldly. His butler swallowed. "I don't think so, my lord. I'm not sure what she did, she simply ran out of the house when I tried to calm her. Perhaps she walked." She walked? The little fool. **** Alexande stalked to the stables, his fury mounting with every step. He marched into the cool gloom and strode straight to Pippa's stall. It was empty, the horse was gone. Alex slammed the stall door shut with a curse. 418

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Damnation! With the head-start she had on him, she could be anywhere by now. But it didn't matter, because Alexande would hunt her down and drag her back—by her hair if need be. Alex strode toward the back of the stables, searching for the stable master. "Mr. Hudson?" he called. There was no response. And there was no one in the private quarters. What the hell is going on? A low rumble sounded outside along with the murmur of voices. Grinding his jaw, Alexande marched out into the sunshine and squinted against the sun. The two stable boys, Mac and Kenneth, were unloading a wagon full of foodstuff. "Where the hell is Hudson?" Alex demanded as he stalked toward them. Kenneth glanced up, took one look at Alexande, and swallowed. "H-he has the day off, my lord." "Then where the hell have you two been?" "Mrs. Fulthrop sent us on an errand," Mac responded. Alex eyed the two stable boys, but there was no denying the crates of groceries in the back of the cart. He spun on his heel and marched toward the stables. "I want Blitzen saddled and ready, now," he threw over his shoulder. "Aye, my lord," the two boys responded in unison. They ran past him to do his bidding, when Kenneth stumbled on something lying in the dirt. "What the bloody hell?" he murmured as he picked the object up. Alexande's eyes narrowed. "Give that here." The boy handed it over before disappearing into the stables. 419

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It was a woman's dainty slipper, the leather scuffed and worn from overuse. It looked like Aubriana's slipper. Not the ones he'd had made for her after she became his mistress, but those she'd worn while she'd worked as his maid. If Aubri had ridden away on Pippa, why would she leave her slipper behind? She couldn't have been in that much of a hurry. A twinge of fear twisted in his chest. He traced over the ground, looking for anything unusual. There were footprints, lots of man-size footprints. But that wasn't anything unusual, considering the number of male servants working in the house, not to mention Mr. Hudson and the stable boys. But there was another set of markings...had someone been dragged? Alex followed it around the corner of the stables, and paused when he caught sight of dark red stains on the ground. He sank onto his haunches for a closer look. Blood. Alarm spiked through him. What the bloody hell had happened? He rose to his feet and followed the droplets of blood until he stumbled upon something else. A dagger. Alexande picked it up and instantly recognized it as the dagger he'd given Aubri to protect herself. Dread curdled his vitals when he saw the blade was stained with blood nearly to the hilt. And at his feet were hoof prints, lots of hoof prints, maybe from four or five horses—he couldn't be sure. They had ridden off in a hurry. Had someone taken his beloved Aubri? 420

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**** Alex had failed in locating her. After placing her slipper in his pocket, he'd mounted Blitzen and followed the horses' trail but it had quickly disappeared in the tall grass. Then, he'd gone on a wild goose chase for his elusive mistress. After constructing a clever lie, claiming to have sent Aubri to town on an errand, he visited the Welbery Farm, but no one had seen her. Then he'd galloped off to Weymouth and had spent hour after useless hour searching every conceivable place she could be, but to no avail. By the time he reined his horse about and headed for home, Alex was in a torrent of turmoil. Someone had taken his Aubriana—he was sure of it—but he hadn't a clue who it could be. Too many enemies lingered in his past. Any one of them could have discovered his whereabouts and taken her for revenge. But somehow, it seemed unlikely they would travel all the way to England to find him. There was, however, one adversary whom he could presently credit: Espion. Dread sickened him at the thought. But it didn't make any sense. If Aubri had been spying for him, then why would the bastard kidnap her? He had little doubt she'd been kidnapped. Unless, Aubri leaving him also meant she'd stopped spying for the traitor. Was Espion planning to use her as bait? 421

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Alex could almost feel the terror she must have felt when the bastards grabbed her. He ground his teeth and gripped the reins hard as he urged Blitzen faster. If Espion harmed one hair upon her head, Alex would kill him! He would tear the whoreson limb from limb with his bare hands. He would find her, free her, and take his revenge. Alexande urged Blitzen into a reckless gallop as he sighted Bournemouth Hall. He was amazed to realize how much this place he once detested, now meant so much to him. And it was all due to Aubriana. He could live in a hovel with her and be content. Home was where the heart was. And Aubriana was its keeper. He had to get her back, to hold her in his arms, to tell her everything dwelling inside him. His life depended on it. Alex leapt from the saddle and the double doors opened, revealing his trusted footman, George, and his faithful butler. He threw the reins to George and stalked up the stairs, brushing past Wiggins. "Did you find her?" his butler queried. "No," Alex replied tersely. He tore off his riding gloves and marched across the foyer, fear and fury boiling in his veins. "My lord, this came for you." Alexande stopped dead in his tracks, and slowly turned around. In Wiggins' pristine glove was a neatly folded note. Something inside him recoiled. "When did it arrive?" he asked. "About an hour ago." 422

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Alex gingerly took it, and immediately noticed the texture, the quality of the parchment—it was expensive foolscap, something only the wealthy could afford. And it was addressed to him. Ravenspur He turned it over and found it was sealed with a large drop of red wax—no insignia. Still no clue to his nemesis' identity. He broke the seal with his thumb nail and carefully opened it. Inside was a lock of honey-gold hair, bound by a pink ribbon. Aubriana! "My god," Wiggins gasped, "is that—" "Yes," Alex said absently. He picked up the tendril and inhaled. Her sweet scent still clung to it, and filled his mind with visions of her smiling and laughing, moaning and sighing as they made passionate love together. Of him holding her in his arms...of tears falling from her amethyst eyes as he accused her of the most vile things... Aubriana. He gripped the lock of hair and scanned the note. Missing someone Ravenspur? If you wish to see your sweet Aubriana again, you will meet me at Sandsfoot Castle, dawn tomorrow. Come alone. Otherwise, I will send her back to you, piece by piece. 423

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Espion White hot rage exploded as he glared at the parchment, before crushing it with his hand. I'm going to kill the bastard! The elegant handwriting denoted a man of education, a man of quality. Alex didn't care if he was the bloody King of England, he was going to murder the cur. He'd harmed twenty-three of Aubri's hairs—Espion was a dead man. He stared at the silky soft tendril as it curled possessively around his finger. My gods, the terror she must be feeling... Slaying the bastard wasn't good enough. Alex wanted to torture the whoreson until he was screaming in agony. "What has happened my lord?" Wiggins asked. "Espion has taken Aubri," Alexande responded with cool menace. "And at dawn tomorrow, I shall kill him." [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Thirty-Eight **** Aubriana slowly awoke to darkness. Disoriented, she lay on her side, her arms prickling with needle-like pain. Her head aching, her body stiff, her limbs sluggish...and she could see nothing but pitch blackness. She tried to move her hands and gasped when pain shot up her arms. She was bound hand and foot, her wrists tied behind her back. Panic seized her as she remembered every frightening detail. She'd been kidnapped—by Espion. He'd bound and gagged her, then knocked her out. Her jaw ached where he'd hit her. And all for the purpose of killing her beloved Alexande. "You see, Ravenspur is bound to come to your rescue, his honor demands it. And when he does, I will kill him." Hot tears welled in her eyes. The bastard was going to use her so he could murder Alex, and there was nothing she could do stop it. Great choking sobs wracked her, and she nearly sucked the gag into her lungs. Aubri held her breath as she desperately pushed against the kerchief with her tongue. She forced herself to calm and breathe slowly through her nose. It wouldn't do the panic, she had to think, to find a means to escape. 425

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Because Alex couldn't die! Nor could she allow herself to be used as bait. For she did not doubt for a moment he would come for her. Despite everything between them, despite his treacherous activities, Espion was right—Alexande was an honorable man. She slowly twisted around, searching the gloom, and was relieved when she spotted a sliver of light. It had to be a door sill. Thank the gods she would not suffocate. She rested her head on the carpet and the tears rolled down her cheek. He doesn't even know I love him. She couldn't bear to think of the last words they'd spoken to each other. He hated her because of her deception. He didn't know of her deep love for him, nor the child which she carried—his child. Even if it was the last thing she did, she had to tell him. I must escape. Not just for herself and Alex, but for the innocent babe growing inside of her—she had to protect it at all costs. Aubriana rolled onto her back and groaned. Her arms and shoulders ached in this position. Pressing her hands against the floor, she tried to push herself upright. After three painful tries, she finally succeeded. Aubri sat, and panted as she stared at the door, pushing the gag back with her tongue. Slowly her breathing eased and her frantic heart slowed. After many frustrating minutes, she tested her bonds. She couldn't move her ankles, but there was a slight give with her bound wrists. If only she could get her hands in front of her. 426

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Aubri pressed her wrists flat onto the carpet and slowly scooted backwards. She slid her buttocks inch by painful inch over her tied hands, putting a terrible strain on her shoulders. Luckily, her grunts of pain were muffled by the gag as she slowly moved her arms down her thighs and then her legs. Minutes passed before she finally worked them over her feet. She shouted triumphantly as she flexed her aching wrists. She'd succeeded, but now she had to tackle her ankle bindings with tied hands. Slowly, methodically, she picked at the knot with her nails. It was exhausting work. Beads of sweat slid down her brow and stung her eyes. The cloth gave way and Aubriana kicked it aside with a muffled laugh. Panting, she stared at her bound wrists barely visible in the dark. How could she possibly free herself when she couldn't use her fingers or her teeth? Despair swelled in her breast, when she suddenly stilled. There was more give in her bindings than before. Had her struggling loosened the cloth? Aubri held her breath as she began wiggling and twisting her wrists. If only she could make her hands smaller, she could slip free of the silk cravat... **** Aubri didn't know how much time had passed—it could have been hours—but she was beginning to despair. She wiggled and twisted her hands again and again, and the silk had barely given an inch. Her tears renewed at the impossibility of her situation. 427

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If she was ever able to free herself from her bonds, who knew what was waiting for her outside the door. Perhaps the portal itself was locked. But she couldn't give up hope, not when there was so much at stake. The silk gave way, sliding from her hands. Stunned, Aubri stared in disbelief before letting out a cry of joy. She was free! Sitting straight, she reached behind her head and tugged on the bindings of her gag. A moment later, the kerchief came free. She threw it into the gloom before spitting out the gag. Elated, she inhaled great gulps of air. She'd done it! Aubriana was so overjoyed she began to cry. But she quickly squelched the deluge. As of late, she'd found herself more emotional than not, and guessed it was due to the babe. However, this was neither the time nor the place for such an outburst. She dried her tears. She rose on shaky limbs and slowly made her way to the light, her arms stretched out before her. Her hands hit the wall. Slowly she began exploring the smooth surface, blindly searching for the door handle. Her heart stilled as her hand brushed something cool and hard. She wrapped her fingers around the latch and held her breath. This was it, either her freedom or her doom. What if her captor or one of his minions was waiting for her? They could do any number of horrible things. Her pulse thundered, her stomach twisted in knots. She had to risk it, to escape. It was the only way to reach Alex and save his life. 428

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Aubriana slowly lifted the latch. The door clicked and slid open a crack. She waited with bated breath, but there was nothing but silence. Swallowing her dread, she slowly opened the portal. Lavender silk and diffused sunlight greeted her sensitive eyes. Aubri blinked and stepped into the empty, posh bedroom. The silk curtains blocked the windows, and a huge four poster bed dominated the chamber. She must have been thrown into the wardrobe of a guest bedroom. She ran to the whitewash door and laid her hands on the brass latch. Dare she hope it too was unlocked? It was highly improbable. And if it was, no doubt a guard waited for her on the other side. She gazed about the chamber, hoping for a weapon of any kind, but there was nothing. Not even a vase to throw at someone's head. All she had going for her was the element of surprise. Aubri held her breath and pressed her ear to the door, desperate to hear over the erratic beating of her heart. Nothing. Not a peep could she hear from the other side. It was now or never. Aubriana thrust open the door and leapt out of the room, prepared to run. The corridor was empty. She stared down the long hall, astonished. I can't believe it. 429

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Either Espion was supremely stupid or an arrogant fool. As she gazed over the polished mahogany trim, silk covered walls and plaster ceilings, Aubri was inclined to believe the latter. Softly, she closed the door behind her. She was trapped in a great house. Were they all built the same? It was a fleeting hope. Considering how hopelessly lost she was in her first week at Bournemouth, she feared she wouldn't fare much better in a stranger's home. How in the world was she going to escape? Not only did she have to worry about running into her captor, but his servants as well. But there was no hope for it. If she was going to elude Espion, she had to take the chance. Inhaling a calming breath, Aubri sidled down the corridor, listening for the slightest noise. Aubri's heart leapt, when a few moments later, she found a huge spiraling staircase. It had to be the main stairs. She rushed to the railing and peered down into the wide gallery. Lucky for her, there was not a soul in sight. She inched her way down the stairs, one step at a time. A deafening creak filled the air. Aubri froze, her pulse roaring in her ears. She was done for now. The servants would rush out at the noise, followed closely by her captor. She held her breath and waited. But no one ever came. Sighing with relief, she continued until she finally reached the hall. But she was nowhere closer to escaping than she was a moment before. There were countless doors, two more 430

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staircases and gaping hallways. Aubri had no choice. She followed the main corridor. On and on she walked, and still there was no end in sight. Fear rose inside her as the hall stretched onward, twisting and turning like some nightmarish maze. Aubri broke into a run, terror nipping at her heels, her heart thundering in her ears. She had to get out. She burst into a portrait gallery, and stumbled past a plethora of painted lords and ladies. They glared at her with cold eyes. Gasping for breath, Aubri stumbled into a huge hall with high marble arches and second story galleries on all sides. She sagged against a wall, desperate to drag air into her lungs. Surely the main doors were not far beyond. She waited until her heart eased and breathing calmed...when she heard a voice... **** "My lord, this is madness," Orwald exclaimed. "First you smuggle secrets to the French, now you're kidnapping women? What next? An attempt on the king's life? I know her family. They may be poor, but they're good, decent folk. They don't deserve this." Espion stared at him, his gaze devoid of emotion. "Might I remind you, sheriff, you are as deeply entangled in this as I? Who appointed those lack-wits in the Revenue Office—who are either too old and blind, or too greedy to care about the abundance of free-trade happening beneath their noses? Hmmm?" 431

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Orwald was only too aware of how deeply in trouble he was. He licked his bottom lip and tugged on his too tight cravat. Already he could feel the noose tightening around his neck. "I did not appoint Sir Dunn," he sulked. "No, you did not. So we had little choice but to take care of the unfortunate young man." "I didn't say you should kill the bloke!" Orwald returned defensively. Espion leaned against the mantle and swirled the brandy in his snifter. "No, but what would you have me do? He was on the verge of discovering our little secret. You certainly weren't going to kill him. So I and my men did," he responded coldly. A chill slid down Orwald's spine. He licked his lips. His mouth was so parched he was suddenly desperate for a drink. "And look what that brought us! The king sends Ravenspur to investigate. He's already gotten too close." Espion's eyes hardened to steely slits. "Ravenspur is a fool, a wolf on the King's leash sniffing where he shouldn't. Besides, we've got him exactly where I want him—in my trap. I've been waiting years for this moment." "If Ravenspur is such a fool, then why do you need the girl?" Orwald wondered. God, how he needed a drink. He could practically feel it burning down his throat. He needed whisky or brandy, he didn't really care which. "Do not underestimate the bastard. He's as wily as a wolf. And like a wolf, he will do anything to protect his mate. That is his weakness. He will come to us because we hold his sweet whore." 432

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Orwald knew only too well how cunning Ravenspur could be. "I don't care what you do with the marquis, just try not to hurt her. She doesn't deserve any of this," he pleaded. "Besides, if her brother were to find out, we'd have trouble with Willy Seamus and his gang." "As long as she does as she's told, I shall let her live. Who knows, I might even make her my mistress. I have been curious as to why the Rogue Marquis would take interest in an innocent country lass." "Why are you doing all this?" The question had plagued Orwald since the moment he'd made a deal with this devil. Espion's gaze became so hard with cold fury, it was positively frightening. "Revenge, Orwald. Revenge. You will never understand how sweet revenge can be. A craving which starts like a seed within the depths of your soul and builds until it consumes you day and night. A fire that eats away all logical thought until you have no choice but to seek vengeance for the wrongs done to you. Ravenspur is will pay for his sins—with his life!" **** Aubriana gasped in horror. Alexande is not the traitor! She had been an utter fool. Since the night she found evidence of her beloved's supposed treachery, she'd been caught in a storm of distress. It had been impossible for her to reconcile the honorable man she knew him to be with his traitorous side...because they were two different people. Aubri was overjoyed to realize she'd been wrong. 433

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Was it possible she'd misjudged him in the murder as well? She'd not seen the actual deed, only the aftermath. Who knows, perhaps Alex had simply been defending himself when he shot the man dead. She now realized anything was possible. And now she knew too Alexande really was on a mission for the king—just as his secret documents had shown. Damnation. If she did not escape, her beloved was going to walk straight into his enemy's deadly trap. She had to get to Alex and warn him. But Alexande still didn't know Espion's identity. If she could find out for him, perhaps it would make up for her perfidy—if only a little. Aubri sidled to the open door and cautiously peered through the crack. The portly Sheriff Hodgeson stood by the sideboard, pouring himself a drink. He gulped down a generous portion of whiskey before pouring himself another. A fire crackled in the hearth, and she could just make out the edge of a settee. But the other man was nowhere to be seen. Aubri's heart plummeted in disappointment. If only she could have gazed upon Espion and described him for Alex. A shadow strode to the hearth and Aubri smothered a gasp as the man came into view. The gentleman was meticulous attired in sky blue silk breeches and matching jacket—the stiff skirts spread wide to reveal the silver silk waist coat with its heavy embroidery and a waterfall of expensive lace spilling from his throat and wrists. He was handsome in a foppish 434

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way with his powered wig and rouge tinted cheeks and lips. And a black fan dangled from his wrist. She was desperate to stifle her gasp. There could be no doubt this man was Espion. Fear tightened in her chest as she struggled to commit his profile to memory. For whatever reason, Espion was intent upon killing Alexande. But not if Aubriana could help it. Her heart thundering against her ribs, her stomach churning with dread, Aubri stepped back from the door. She tip-toed across the hall and headed for what she hoped would lead to the foyer. As soon as she was certain she was out of hearing distance, Aubri lifted her skirts and ran. An arm wrapped around her waist and jerked her to a halt. Aubri screamed against the hand clamped over her mouth. Oh gods no! They'd caught her. She was done for. She was yanked off her feet and her back collided with a hard, broad chest. She twisted and clawed and kicked, but it was no use. She had failed. Aubri recoiled as Espion pressed his lips against her ear, his warm breath sending chills shooting down her spine. "Going somewhere, my lovely?" [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Thirty-Nine **** "My lord, this is lunacy!" "I will not needlessly endanger Aubriana's life. I go alone." His last words to Wiggins churned in Alexande's mind. It was sheer lunacy to travel alone to the desolate Sandsfoot Castle when Espion would have an army of men awaiting Alex in the shadows, no doubt ordered to shoot him in the back should the traitor's plan fail. But Aubri's life was at stake and she was all that mattered now. He watched as the predawn light spread across the cold, dark earth. The pounding hooves of his horse clattered against the road and broke the chilled silence of the morn. Leaning low, he urged Blitzen into a hard gallop. Fury roiled through his veins and pounded with every beat of his heart. The cold rage kept his mind sharp, clear, and focused—and his fear for Aubri at bay. Damn it, he couldn't stop thinking about her. She'd been kidnapped and terrorized. He'd sworn to keep her safe, yet he'd put her in danger. All Alex wanted to do was hold her tight and never let her go. Did she wonder if he was coming to her rescue? He cursed himself for the hundredth time. To think the vile things he'd said to her, the detestable way he'd treated her, 436

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could be the last either of them would ever know, tore at his heart. How could he have been such a blind, bloody fool? What if Espion kills her? For one heart stopping moment, Alex was consumed by unspeakable horror. No! The bastard could not possibly be so stupid. Espion must know Alex's revenge would be swift and terrible. Not even death would keep him from taking his vengeance on the man. And yet, his beloved Aubri thought he hated her, when Alex had never loved anyone more. He would do anything for her, including laying down his life. Aubri was the one woman he'd waited for, though he hadn't known it. And if by some miracle, they both survived this, he would happily spend the rest of his life proving it to her. Alex slowed his mount to a canter as he reached the sleeping village of Weymouth, and wove through the deserted streets. He crossed the bridge and followed High Street, before veering to the cliffs. As Blitzen crested the hill, the golden splendor of the sun broke over the horizon. The churning ocean was a painted blend of fire and ice. The distant cliffs a hard shadow, a stalwart bastion against the incessant pounding surf. It would have been a beautiful morning were it not tainted with the promise of death. Someone would die this day, but whom was in the hands of the fates. Alex prayed to the gods it was anyone but Aubriana. 437

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Alexande turned his gaze on Sandsfoot Castle, perched on the edge of the cliffs. The crumbling hulk stared back at him with vacant eyes, like an ancient tomb filled with deadly secrets. Would this be the site of his demise? For years Alex had courted death, always a step ahead of that slashing sickle. Now it appeared a reckoning was at hand. Was it possible his luck had finally run out? He'd known the day would come. He only hoped he could save Aubri with his dying breath. Alex halted in the shadow of the dilapidated fortress and dismounted. He checked the loaded pistols in his saddlebag, but would not bring them—the telltale bulge far too noticeable. His rapier, and the daggers hidden on his person, would have to suffice. With his back rigid, and his bearing proud, Alexande marched into the castle and down the crumbling steps. He walked from the deep shadows into the blinding sunlight. "I have come alone, Espion," he called. "Show yourself." For the longest moment, there was nothing but the distant roar of the pounding waves. Alex could feel the eyes of many upon him, pistols drawn and ready. Something moved in the shadows and sauntered into the golden light. "Ravenspur." Alex stared at the man who had to be Espion. "You should be dead."

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Lord Marche, the man Alexande had killed in a duel over ten years ago, stood very much alive before him. Alex was stunned, though he struggled to hide it. His nemesis flashed a twisted smile, clearly pleased. "Ah, so you recognize me. I had wondered if you might, given the years which have passed...and this." Marche ran a finger along a scar which dissected his upper lip and slashed across his right cheek. The scar was deep, the skin around it horribly puckered as if the wound had festered and taken long to heal. A laceration Alex himself had delivered that fateful night, so long ago. "I never forget the face of an enemy," Alex replied coolly. "No, I suppose you wouldn't. But then again, neither do I. Especially not the man who tried to kill me." "I did kill you," Alex returned. "Ah, but as you can plainly see, you failed miserably. Not that you didn't have a good go at it. Everyone thought me dead. I awoke to find myself buried alive. I will not bore you with the details, but suffice to say, I was lucky enough to be buried in a safety coffin. I do not know how long I pulled on the bell cord before someone found me." Something dark flashed in Marche's eyes, and Alexande could only imagine the horror he must have experienced in those terrible moments. "You killed my brother," Alex reminded him. Espion's gaze narrowed. "And you systematically went about destroying my life! Your brother was a bloody fool. He was a lackbrain and dastard. He should have known better than to call me out." 439

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Alexande felt the old fury rise within him, but he pushed it back down. "You were a spy and a master swordsman. You didn't have to kill him." "But I did, didn't I?" A smile of pure satisfaction crossed Marche's lips. Alex forced himself to remain calm. The bastard was trying to goad him, to make him lose his temper. "Then you took over, didn't you? You became the darling spy for the king. They didn't give one wit about the fact you had killed me, when I had given seventeen years of my life to king and country!" Marche shouted, spittle spraying from his deformed lip. After a moment, he took a deep breath and seemed to calm himself. "As I recovered from my wounds, waited till I was strong again, I plotted my revenge...against you and the king." "By turning traitor," Alex stated. "It's so much more profitable when you're a turncoat." "You bore me, Marche," Alexande returned as he unbuttoned his jacket. "Now, where is she?" "Do you mean the exquisite Aubriana?" Espion taunted. "She is stunningly beautiful. And what a lush body. I am quite tempted to make her my mistress after I kill you. I must say, you have always had excellent taste in women." "Except when I bedded your wife," Alex returned smoothly as he tossed his jacket aside, "that was out of pity for being married to a fop like you." Marche stiffened, his smile faltering. "You always were a bastard Ravenspur—a lucky bastard at that—but your luck is about to change, starting with your death," he snarled. 440

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"No!" a woman screamed. Alexande turned at her voice. His Aubriana was held captive by one of Espion's ruthless thugs—his arm around her waist, the barrel of his pistol pressed against her temple. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her cheeks tear stained, and there was an ugly bruise marring her jaw. Crusted blood stained her lips and chin. And the terror in her eyes nearly tore his heart out. The nape of his neck prickled and he heard the soft slide of steel against steel behind him. Unsheathing his sword, Alex spun around and blocked the killing blow. The bloody coward had planned to thrust the blade into his back. Blackened fury rose to consume him but he held it back. He could not allow the dark emotion to control him or he was done for. "Who hit her?" Alexande growled. A lazy smile twisted Marche's lips. "One of my men did when they took her. Then I did when she tried to escape." "I'm going to kill you for that." "You're welcome to try," Espion drawled. Their swords rasped as they twisted away and each took a wide step back. "What do you want, Marche?" "A duel with you—to the death." "I accept," Alex returned as he unbuttoned his waistcoat and tossed it after his jacket. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Chapter Forty **** Alexande tucked the lace cuffs into his sleeves before flexing his sword arm. He'd spent hours the night before honing his skill because he'd been unable to sleep knowing the bastard held Aubriana. And he was going to make Marche pay for the horror he'd visited upon her. He eyed his opponent. Espion wasn't nearly as good a swordsman as he thought he was. For one, the man had never been able to hold onto his temper. "It's no wonder the King was so eager to have me replace you in his services. You're nothing but a blackguard too cowardly to fight like a real man that you must terrorize hapless women." Marche's eyes widened at the insult, before narrowing to darkened slits. "You bastard! I shall kill you," he snarled, and lunged, thrusting his blade straight for Alex's heart. Aubri screamed. Alex twisted to the right and blocked the attack with a sharp sweep of his blade, before jumping back and giving his opponent a wide berth. There would be no rules—this was not a duel to the first or second touch, but to the death. One of them was going to meet their doom. 442

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Warily, they circled one another, like two alpha wolves battling for supremacy. Espion leapt forward and feigned a left. Suddenly he shifted right and slashed Alex's thigh with a vicious laceration. There was nary a flinch as Marche's sword sliced through cloth, skin, and muscle. The pain was incidental, and easily ignored. Alex parried his adversary's next thrust, and turning a cant, slipped his sword past Espion's defenses to deliver a biting sweep across the bastard's chest. Blood welled from the deep gash and stained his fine muslin shirt. Marche leapt back with a hiss. His eyes narrowed, his nostrils flared before charging Alexande. Their swords clashed in the golden dawn, blue sparks flying as their blades grated. Alex focused his entire attention upon his enemy. During the extensive training of his youth, he'd learned one could control all pain, fear, anger—anything which could distract a swordsman from the task at hand. Drawn into a fighter's trance, Alex repelled his enemy's attack with fluid grace. He lunged at Marche, and with lightening speed, slashed the traitor's thigh. He leapt back, away from the traitor's seeking blade, and raised his arm—his sword level—and left himself open for attack. His eyes glazed with bloodlust, his adversary charged, driving his sword straight for Alexande's heart. At the last possible second, Alex twisted to the side and whipping his blade down to block the blow, sliced Marche's ear off as he stumbled past. Too late, Alexande felt the bite of Espion's blade as it pierced his flesh, sliding between his ribs. In the distance, he 443

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heard Aubriana scream as he jerked back, his opponent's sword now stained with his blood. They sprang apart and stared at one another, their chests heaving. Marche's shirt, translucent with sweat, was plastered to his body. A crimson river of blood flowed down his neck and stained the muslin. There was no mistaking the deep hatred in Espion's dark eyes. Behind him Aubri sobbed, and it wrenched Alex's heart. He wished to the gods he could comfort her, to hold her in his arms and tell her how much he loved her. But he couldn't let his defenses slip, any show of weakness and this traitor would be all over him. Marche's lips twisted into a cruel smile. "Your beloved little whore screamed when I took her, when I raped her," he sneered. "Oh she was a lively little sport. But do you know, by the third time I took her, the little slut was begging for more." Alexande was desperate to ignore the taunts, but the thought of him touching her, hurting her—raping Aubriana— tore at his soul and filled him with a blackened rage he could not control. He lunged at Espion and sliced the left side of his face open, from ear to mouth, his sword cutting deep. Blood poured from the laceration, but Alex continued his attack— slicing flesh, piercing muscle—he slashed over and over again. He barely felt his own wounds as Marche hacked at him like a madman. Alexande's injures were taking their toll. He was tiring.

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Few were the times he'd fought to the death, and never had any sword fight lasted this long. His ribs burned, his lacerations ached, and his strength was exhausting. If he was to save Aubri's life, he had to kill the bastard— now. Alex blocked Marche's feint with ters, and leapt backward. Pulling his sword back for the killing thrust, his foot caught on a stray rock and he tripped. Stumbling, he fell to his knee. Hastily, he blocked the next blow. With a bark of triumph, Espion swept past his guard and pressed the needle point of his blade against Alex's throat. "Surrender and I will let your pretty whore live," he snarled. Alexande glared at his enemy. "Never." Falling backward, Alex kicked the sword from the traitor's hand and rolled to the side before leaping to his feet. Alex lunged forward and thrust his sword hilt deep into Marche's chest. Espion gasped, his eyes wide with shock. Dazed, he looked down at the sword piercing his heart and wrapped his hand around the hilt. Alex tore his blade from Marche's chest and sliced his fingers. Blood poured from his wound as the traitor stumbled backwards and fell to his knees. "This time, I will take great care to be sure you are dead," Alex declared. "Bas-tard," the earl croaked before collapsing face first onto the ground. 445

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Alexande's gaze whipped up to meet Aubri's captor. "The earl is dead. Release her at once," he demanded. The thug snarled as he tightened his arm around her waist, and pressed the barrel into her temple. "I think not, ye bloody dastard. Ye may have killed the bloke, but ye won't live to tell about it." A half dozen men slipped from the shadows into the light and circled Alex, their pistols trained on him. Alex knew Marche had laid him a trap, but he hadn't guessed the cowards would kill him after their lord was dead. He glanced at the castle's empty portal and cursed. It appeared, he'd have to do this alone. "Forgive me, my love," he murmured, willing her to believe the love burning inside him. She screamed as he turned and lunged at the nearest brigand. "Don't anyone bloody well move!" came a shout. Chaos erupted as a dozen men armed with pistols and muskets, stormed the crumbling keep. Relief washed through Alexande as Wiggins pointed a musket at the cur about to kill him. "What took you so long? It's not like you to be this damn late," Alex grumbled. The butler looked sheepish. "What can I say, my lord. We ran into a bit of trouble. Mrs. Fulthrop tried her best to make it difficult for us. She nearly shot George." Alexande arched a brow. "But not to worry, she's safely ensconced at Bournemouth Hall," the butler continued. 446

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Wiggins's men consisted of a motley crew: the coachman, the footmen, the stable master and the boys, the gardener and his assistants, the gamekeeper—all of them armed. Alex confiscated the pistol from the nearest thug before sheathing his sword. Slowly, he turned to face the churl still holding his beloved. He raised the flint lock and aimed straight between the thug's eyes. "Release—her—now!" The brigand's eyes darted from side to side as he backed away, dragging Aubri with him. She struggled against his hold, tears streaming down her cheeks. Alexande watched as her hand landed on the cur's dagger. His heart leapt into his throat as she withdrew the blade and stabbed the bastard in the thigh. The brigand instantly released her as he howled in pain and clutched his leg. Breaking free, she ran straight for Alex. The cur straightened slightly, his eyes glittering with rage and pain. Swinging up his arm, he trained his pistol on her back. "I'm goin' to kill ye, ye fuckin' bitch!" the thug snarled as he cocked the hammer. Alex pulled the trigger and shot splattered the man's brains against the crumbling wall. The thug's gun fell to the ground with a heavy thud, before his body crumpled in a broken heap. Aubri threw her arms around his waist and sobbed against his chest. Alexande tossed his spent gun to Wiggins, before wrapping her in his embrace, and burying his face in the silken softness of her honey-gold hair. I almost lost her forever... 447

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"Alex," Aubri hiccupped against his shirt, "I'm so sorry." "Hush love," he whispered as he rubbed his hand up and down her back. "It's over now." She lifted her tear-stained face to his. "I love you, Alex. With all my heart." "I know," he replied solemnly as something hot and wet slid down his cheek. "And I love you more than I can ever tell you." Gently capturing her lips, Alexande kissed her with all the love and tenderness burning in his soul. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Epilogue **** "I, Alexande Frederick Augustus Telford, Marquis of Ravenspur, take thee, Aubriana Isabella Welbery, to be my lawfully wedded wife..." **** "You're a damn lucky bastard, you do realize that." Alexande smiled at the compliment as he gazed across the room at the ethereal beauty laughing with a gentleman whose name he could not remember. He was lucky. Because that beauty was his wife. My wife. From the moment he'd gazed upon Aubriana as she pleaded with her hot-headed brother at the town hall, he'd been enthralled. She was so lovely, so vivacious and passionate, he wanted to whisk her into his arms, and carry her to bed. But he supposed he'd already caused enough gossip with the announcement of his marriage to the delectable Miss Welbery. The moment he'd purchased the special marriage license, the scandal had erupted. Rogue Marquis marries Farmer's Daughter! It had been plastered all over the news sheets. Once again, he'd set the beau monde on their ears. Why would one 449

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of the most powerful and dangerous noblemen in England marry a tenant farmer's daughter? Because his beloved Aubri had tamed his wild heart, and healed his agonized soul. He was neither enslaved nor broken, but more alive than he'd ever been in his life. She'd shown him love did not weaken a person but made them strong and whole. Now she was his for the rest of their natural lives. And he didn't give a damn what the ton made of it. "Whatever happened to Mrs. Fulthrop?" Hunter queried. Alex dragged his gaze from his wife to look at his friend. "I do believe the old dragon is awaiting transfer to Canada." On the day of the duel, Wiggins had caught the housekeeper pilfering Alexande's secret papers. And when she learned the butler and his men were going to help Alex, she'd actually tried to shoot George. Wiggins managed to apprehend her and lock her in her room. "I noticed there's a new sheriff in Weymouth. Whatever happened to that portly fellow Hodgeson?" Hunter asked. Alexande sighed. It appeared Hunter was not going to give up until he learned the whole diabolical story. "Orwald confessed everything: paying Mrs. Fulthrop to spy; Espion's plans to destroy me and sell England's military secrets to the French; Sir Geoffrey Dunn's death. Even the esquire, Arthur Wyatt, was involved, but only with the smuggling. He knew nothing of his partner's treason." However, with a bit of persuasion and a secret deal, the former sheriff had left out the fact Aubriana had also been spying for Espion. "So what happens to Hodgeson now?" 450

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"He was tried along with Espion's men, and is rotting in Newgate. With the report Aubriana's brother gave me, plus the papers I snatched from the French ship, there is enough evidence to seal their fate. However, because Orwald willingly shared some vital information to the crown, he won't hang. He'll spend two years in Newgate and then he'll be released." "Damn lucky, I say. What of Arthur Wyatt?" Alex shook his head. "The poor bastard got in with the wrong people. He's bloody lucky he got off with a steep fine." Although he suspected the squire was now financially ruined. He noticed a sudden movement in the shadows. Bram. He was watching his sister, his body stiff, his face guarded. Alex could see the sorrow and anger in the younger man's eyes. Aubri's brother was the one blight on their marriage. Though Bram had been invaluable to the investigation, had even willingly testified during the trial, he was to be punished. Because he'd refused to name his fellow smugglers, he was taking the fall for the local free-trade. He was sentenced to two years in Naval Service. But Alexande had known how fearful Aubri was of her brother dying in battle, so he'd persuaded the court to let Bram serve his sentence onboard The Sea Hawk where Captain Jonathan Grant could keep an eye on the hot headed young man. "I have to admit, Ravenspur, you have outdone yourself. Lady Ravenspur is truly the most beautiful creature I've ever seen," Hunter said with a sigh.

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Alexande was inclined to agree, his gaze drawn to her once more. His heart flip-flopped as she caught his stare and a slow, sensual smile curved her lush lips. He'd never wanted another woman more. But then, for the last month, he'd not had a single moment alone with her, not even to steal a kiss. He was as randy as a wolf in mating season. "You're lucky to have snatched her up," Hunter continued wistfully. "I confess to being half in love with her. If you hadn't married her, I would have claimed her for myself." Alex stilled. Slowly he turned and glowered at his close friend. "What did you say?" Alexande growled. Hunter met his gaze and smiled—not the least bit intimidated. "You've nothing to worry about, old man. I have no designs on your wife. Believe me, I would never even think of seducing her." Alex scrutinized Hunter for a long moment. The marital status of a woman had never deterred himself or his friend in the past. And Hunter could be downright charming at a moment's notice. Could he trust him with Aubri? Alexande was shocked by the sudden surge of jealousy. But then, neither one had ever taken a wife before now. He would have to give Hunter the benefit of the doubt. "See that you don't," Alex muttered, "I would hate to meet you on the field of honor one morn." With those words of warning, Alexande whirled around and stalked away. It was time to collect his wife and begin their overdue honeymoon. 452

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Scandal be damned! **** Alexande strode into the king's private audience chamber, in perfect courtly attire—sans powder and wig of course. It was the one concession to fashion he absolutely refused to make, and amazingly the king allowed it. He'd spent two grueling hours of sheer boredom, waiting in the antechamber. But then one had to have an ocean of patience when dealing with one's monarch. Alex was nothing if not patient. He bowed low and formal to his king. "Your Majesty," Alex intoned. King George II was a stickler for protocol, and nothing angered him more than a misstep in manners. "Ravenspur," the king acknowledged with a regal nod. It was then, Alex acknowledged the other two men in the room. "Newcastle, Pitt." He was not at all surprised to see the Prime Minister, Duke of Newcastle, and the Secretary of State, William Pitt, awaiting him. It was not the first time he'd reported to the king in their presence. And many was the time he'd report to Pitt or Newcastle personally. "Ravenspur, what is this all about? Why did you ask us for audience?" the king grumbled in his thick accent. It was the first time Alex had ever requested an audience with the king, but considering the importance of the matter, it could not be put off. "Sire, it is with great regret that I must offer you my resignation as loyal agent for His Majesty." 453

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"What is the meaning of this Ravenspur?" King George barked, his face turning red. "If this is a joke, we are not amused!" "I wish it were, Sire," Alexande returned coolly. "During the duel with Lord Marche, as I mentioned in my report, I was informed of a great misdeed on my part. I was indirectly the cause of Marche turning traitor. It is true he killed my brother, but if I had not sought revenge as I did...if I had gone about it differently, perhaps he would not have become a turncoat." Alex felt responsible for what had happened to Lord Marche. Perhaps if Alexande had simply challenged Marche to a duel to avenge James' death, things would have turned out differently. Instead, he'd systematically bled the man's wealth dry, until he and his family had been destitute. Then he'd enticed the man to cheat at the gaming tables for the sheer pleasure of humiliating Marche and calling him out. Now that he was married to Aubri, he wanted to leave the whole sordid mess behind while he still had life and limb intact. In the end, it had not been so difficult a decision. He didn't care what the king did to him, as long as he could spend the rest of his life with Aubriana. The aging Duke of Newcastle gracefully bowed to the king. "If I may, Your Majesty?" The king waved for Newcastle to continue. "You may." The duke turned to Alex, careful to keep his back to the wall and not King George. "Ravenspur, you cannot hold yourself responsible for another man's perfidy. Lord Marche was becoming a liability. 454

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Do you honestly think we would have allowed you to kill one of our top agents if it had not been in our best interest? 'Tis a pity he didn't remain dead." Alex met Newcastle's gaze, unemotional, cool, and calm, but inside he writhed with fury and shock. They had used him, used him to do their dirty work. How many times had he risked his life for them? He'd been young and angry and foolish when he'd readily agreed to Newcastle's proposition. The duke had been the Secretary of State then, and Alex had been desperate to escape his family, and the sudden and unwanted responsibilities thrust upon him due to his brother's death. "Ravenspur," King George intervened, "you have more than proven your loyalty to Us, you need not concern yourself." "Thank you, Your Majesty," Alex responded with a courtly bow. "However," William Pitt said with a glance to the king, "we cannot accept your resignation." Alex straightened and turned his attention to the Secretary. Pitt was young and charismatic. He had a flare for speech. Alex did not doubt he would one day be Prime Minister. "Through our various contacts, we have learned there is a spy ring here in Britain, gathering information for the French. We believe Lord Marche was working for them." "Then that is why the papers reported his death was due to a highway robbery," Alex returned. 455

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"Yes," Newcastle responded. "We did not want to...alarm the other members of this group. Also, it would have caused complications for you and your...next mission." Damnation! Alexande had come here today fully prepared to resign, to leave the dark and dangerous world behind. With Aubriana and a babe along the way, he no longer felt the need to risk his life. "My lord, though I thank you for all you have done, I came here with the aim of retiring to a quiet life, now that I will soon have a family." "There are reports that something...grand is happening. Some of our agents have gone missing in France, including your brother," Pitt supplied. Alex glared at the Secretary of State. "Deavon?" Bloody hell! His brother was a spy? If only he could have stopped the fool. "What has happened?" he demanded. "Your brother was working on an important mission for us, when he suddenly disappeared from his post a month ago, after reporting to his contact. His co-operative reported him kidnapped. Nobody knows where he is. He is not the first agent to go missing in the last month," Pitt replied. Alexande's stomach twisted in fear. These damn bastards would involve his sister in their diabolical games of espionage if it were possible. He thanked the gods Elizabeth was safely ensconced at Ravenspur Manor, and therefore out of trouble. "Ravenspur," Newcastle said, recalling his attention, "we understand that now you are married you do not wish to be involved in such missions as before. But you are invaluable to us which is why we would like you to become a spymaster. You already have an extensive network of agents beneath 456

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you. You do not have to leave English soil if you do not wish. You can work from here. We need to find out who is controlling this French spy ring. We fear it is someone of very high rank. Whoever it is, they're interfering with our agents in France. Once your brother is found, he would of course return to England to become part of your network, as will a few others we are recalling. And you can recruit whomever you need to root out this thorn in the king's side." Alex should have known he would not escape the king's clutches so easily. He had, after all, proven his devotion and loyalty. He was one of their more accomplished spies. And they had enticed him far more than they even understood themselves. Alex had a keen sense of justice, and if Marche was but one of a ring of traitors, he wanted to catch them all. And if they had anything to do with Deavon's disappearance, he would destroy them. How the hell had his brother gotten mixed up in this? But then, Deavon was wild and reckless, not to mention stubborn. In fact, his brother reminded Alex much of himself—the way he'd been before the heavy mantle of responsibility had fallen upon his shoulders. No doubt, Deavon had been approached and had readily taken up the position, just as Alex had— goaded by anger and frustration, and the terrible row they'd had three years ago. He hadn't seen his brother in those three years, and now Deavon was missing. Alex would never forgive himself if those were the last words he ever spoke to his sibling. He had no choice, if this 457

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new position would protect England, and ultimately his brother, his entire family, then he would take it. At least as spymaster, he could stay close to his loved ones. He would not be forced to lie to Aubri, for never would he hide the truth from her again. "You have been of great service to Us, Ravenspur. It would please Us if you would continue in this new capacity," King George remarked. Alex bowed. "As you wish, Sire. I shall be your spymaster and discover the true traitor behind this ring." "Good, good," The king declared and clapped his hands. "Now, Ravenspur, I must ask you one more thing." Alex stiffened. "Why did you marry this farm girl?" Alexande almost laughed at the absurdity of the question, but bit his tongue. He met the king's gaze squarely, completely unashamed to admit the truth. "Because I love her, Your Majesty." The End [Back to Table of Contents]

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Also by Ingela F. Hyatt... **** Lord of Thieves She is destined to hang... Accused of murdering her husband, Lady Merrion de Beaufey is fated for the gallows, when the infamous outlaw— Robyn Hode—rescues her from a deadly hail of arrows. Unable to remember the night her husband died, Merrion races to discover the truth before Robyn realizes he's protecting a murderess. But there is something irresistible about the seductive outlaw... Can she trust him with her darkest secret? Only he can save her... Lord Roberte de Montichet has returned to England for one reason—to avenge his father's death, and clear his family name. Disguised as Robyn Hode, he rescues a woman escaping a band of murdering knights, only to discover it is none other than Lady Merrion—the woman who nearly destroyed him years earlier. Roberte yearns to succumb to the passion burning between them, but dare he trust her? Or will she betray him yet again?

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