Dangerous Loves Romantic Suspense Collection (13 page)

* * * *

Elsbeth closed her eyes and leaned into his kiss, accepting the tingling surge of heat his lips sent spiraling through her chest, down her body, centering firmly between her thighs. Heavens above, last night’s dream sprung to life!

She laid her hand against his chest. His kisses demanded nothing. They were merely gentle pleas, urging her to respond, tempting her to give over to him everything she had to offer.

Their tongues touched.

She pulled back suddenly.

“No,” she whispered against his mouth. The heat of the moment left her breathless and wanting. His warm hand cupped her cheek. Instinctively, she reached up and caressed the hard plains of his jaw. “No,” she said, protesting her own reaction, not his. “We mustn’t. I—I cannot.”

Stumbling a few steps backwards helped give her the distance she needed to weaken the spell he seemed to have woven around her. The magic must have come from those black eyes of his. He stared at her, wide-eyed and looking just about as dazed as she felt.

His chest heaved as if he couldn’t catch his breath. “Elsbeth,” he breathed her name and pulled her close again. His lips felt hot against hers. She sought his kisses and welcomed his whispering caresses. “I-I didn’t know that this could be so—”

“Nigel!” Charlie’s voice carried across the trail, effectively throwing a pail of cold water over the whole smoldering situation.

Elsbeth was grateful. Charlie, the devil himself, had saved her from forgetting herself and the painful lessons she’d learned about men and love—at least their protestations of an ability to possess such a tender emotion. How in Heaven’s name had she gotten to the point of wanting to let Edgeware ease his way into her heart?

Charlie grabbed Edgeware’s shoulders. “I just spoke to George. He told me what happened. Gad, it makes me shiver to think the horrible death you would have suffered if our Elly hadn’t happened along. You are unharmed, aren’t you? Oh, cousin, please tell me you are unharmed!”

“Don’t get yourself worked up, Charlie. Of course I am well. It was a freak accident. Nothing to worry over.”

“Not worry? How could I not worry? Wouldn’t you fret after me if I’d been the one in danger? Sometimes I feel as if you are my keeper, Nige,” Charlie said, and smiled a deep smile that narrowed his eyes. Elsbeth had seen that look of sheer satisfaction on him before and knew to be wary of it. Charlie was plotting.

“Please excuse me, my lord,” she said with a bowed head, wishing to escape the men and, more importantly, her tender feelings that were threatening to betray her. “I believe I should head up to the manor house after all this excitement.”

Charlie latched onto her arm. “I’ll escort you, Elly.”

Edgeware stepped into their path and peeled Charlie from her arm. “It’s vastly improper for you to address Lady Mercer in such a familiar manner,” he said.

“Hubert, her dear late husband, and I were very close. Weren’t we Elly?”

“Yes, they were close,” she conceded. Charlie had been close to her husband, and he had said it himself: he thought of Lord Edgeware as his keeper.

Charlie?
She felt the blood drain from her cheeks.

“Almost like brothers, I’d say. Or like you and I, Nige.” Charlie laughed and patted Elsbeth’s hand. It was all she could do to keep herself from bursting into tears.

Could it be true
?

The air seemed suddenly too thick to breathe. “Please excuse me,” she murmured before picking up her skirts and darting back toward Edgeware’s sprawling estate house.

What if Charlie was the link?

Charlie knew both her husband and Lord Edgeware, and with his love of high-stakes gambling he was certainly greedy enough to wish his own cousin dead. With Edgeware out of the way, the title and control of the money would go to his uncle and eventually to Charlie.

And wasn’t Edgeware responsible for Charlie? As head of the family, Edgeware would naturally be considered his cousin’s keeper, of sorts.

She dug her nails into her palms, determined to keep a level head.
Please, please no. Let me be wrong
. But how could she be wrong? As harsh as it seemed, this was most likely the truth she’d traveled all the way to Dorset to learn.

Charlie was Dionysus
.

Of course she needed proof. There was no need to give up all hope until she knew without doubt that Charlie was in fact Dionysus. No need at all.

Dionysus would pay for his sins, of that she was certain. Perhaps it would be easier, knowing the rogue was naught but a devil and someone she couldn’t have—
should never have
—loved.

“Come now, Elly.” Charlie caught up to her and grabbed hold of her hand. She jerked it away, giving the bounder cause to have a good laugh at her expense. “Now, now, don’t be this way.”

She took a moment to search Charlie’s face, looking for a clue, a glimmer of Dionysus’s passion, his pain, his genius. She found nothing but emptiness. She saw nothing but mischief in his scheming eyes.

“I’m sure Hubert would want the two of us to remain close,” he said, and flashed a toothy grin. “He and I shared everything, did we not?”

“Not everything. And it-it is unkind of you to remind me of such things, sir,” she snapped just as Lord Edgeware caught up to them. “My husband is
dead!”

Thank the good Lord!

Chapter Ten

Nigel paced his study. The ladies were in the far field, holding an archery competition, and the gentlemen had left for the afternoon on a hunting excursion. He’d claimed an urgent estate matter demanded his immediate attention and had sent Charlie with the men in his place to serve as a guide.

What a blasted lie. He couldn’t concentrate on even the simplest of his estate’s concerns even if he’d wanted to.

Elsbeth
. She’d filled his mind, overwhelmed him in a way no woman had ever done before.

What was he to do? He’d barely begun the game of seduction. He’d petted her, paid her lovely complements, and kissed her. That last kiss had been his downfall, turning his desire into a creature stronger than simple lust.

This was no longer about seduction. He wanted to bed her; that was certain. But he also wanted more. This need ran much deeper than wanting to win her or own her like he owned his estate, or how he owned his horses. He wanted her every breath to be for his sake.

What madness was this?

And worse, he didn’t know how to reach her. Her dedication to her departed husband, that bounder Lord Mercer, was visible. She’d paled, nearly swooned, at the mention of his name.
I can’t
, she’d told him after pulling away from his kiss. Her husband was dead, and yet she believed herself unfaithful?

Nigel poured himself a second glass of brandy. “I can’t compete with a dead bastard. How he won her heart, how he’d won such devotion, I will never understand.”

Before rushing off to the Peninsular War, Lord Mercer had made quite a reputation for himself. Debauchery, gambling, rumors of brutality and cruelty would rush through the
ton
whenever the young earl happened to be in London.

To Nigel’s knowledge, little was known of Lady Mercer. Though he shunned the parties and the clubs, he kept abreast of the activities and rumors flaring within that tight circle of High Flyers. If Lady Mercer had ever visited London with her bounder of a husband, tongues would have surely wagged, and Nigel would have inevitably heard about it. Which possibly meant that Elsbeth had no idea of the true character of the man she’d married.

A light knock on the door jarred him out of his thoughts.

“Come,” he called, after swallowing a healthy dose of his drink.

George entered and closed the door behind him.

“I thought you went hunting with the rest of the men,” Nigel said.

“Begged off. Never had a taste for the sport. Besides, I’ve been meaning to catch a private word with you. But what with the morning’s excitement and your obligations as host, there hasn’t been an opportunity.”

Nigel shrugged as he offered George a drink.

“No, thank you,” George said. He took a chair by the fire. “Stop pacing and sit, Edgeware. I won’t talk to you otherwise.”

Nigel sank into the leather chair next to George’s. “I’m listening.”

George steepled his fingers in front of his pursed lips and stared at Nigel for several long minutes. “I have been wondering about Lady Mercer,” he said at last.

“What about her?” She was the last person Nigel wanted to talk about. Not with George, and not now.

“I know you too well. We’ve been friends since before your father died. I’ve seen that obsessive look in your eyes before, though never for a woman.”

“I cannot imagine what you’re talking about. I have engineered this house party for no other reason than to repair her reputation. It’s only natural I show an interest in her activities.”

“Indeed?” George said wryly. “And if I were to pursue the lady’s attentions? She is a stunning beauty, is she not? That long blond hair of hers, the delicate structure, and those crystal blue eyes are quite memorable. Yes, Edgeware, I do believe I should try to win her favor. What do you think?”

Nigel’s jaw tightened. “Go ahead, though I’d recommend you pursue an heiress for a wife. What, with the volatility of your shipping business, I’d think a woman who could fill your coffers would suit you much better than the penniless Lady Mercer.”

“I wasn’t suggesting I was looking for a wife.”

Nigel slowly rose from his chair and walked back over to his liquor cabinet. George was bluffing. He had to be bluffing. His friend couldn’t possibly be suggesting he’d take Elsbeth for a mistress.

“Before you shoot me, Edgeware, let me just say I noticed—as I’m sure every bloody person in the drawing room did last night—that your gaze never left Lady Mercer and that you scowled all through dinner while you were forced to watch your cousin flirt with her.”

“As I already explained, my attention to her is more than warranted. I fear she might inadvertently thwart my efforts to repair her reputation,” Nigel said.

“So you’re afraid her morals are indeed as warped as her husband’s were purported to be?”

“No, damn it! Not that. Just—just she doesn’t feel comfortable here. And I have to keep a close watch on her because she has vowed mischief. She’s determined to expose Dionysus.”

“She is?” George perked up. “Perhaps I should help her. That cove takes advantage of your protection. He deserves to be exposed and ridiculed. What hold does he have over you, anyhow?”

“Enough,” Nigel said. “Enough that his destruction would be mine as well.”

George lapsed back into silence. The tension in the room was palpable. Nigel hated this wall building between them.

“Tell me—” Nigel hoped to turn the subject “—did you find anything of interest on the beach?”

“No, nothing of import. Did you see anyone when you escorted Lady Mercer back to the house?”

“Just Charlie.” Nigel saw red for a moment as he remembered the familiar way his cousin had behaved toward Elsbeth, taking her arm, speaking too freely with her, shamelessly calling her
Elly
. “But Charlie’s harmless,” he said. But for the first time in his life, he questioned just how harmless his younger cousin really was.

“Then, I suppose we need to dig deeper,” George said as he rose from the chair. “I won’t waste any more of your time.” He paused at the door. “Just indulge me once more and answer this question— When this week is over, will you be able to set aside your affection for Lady Mercer and return to your hermit-like lifestyle?”

Nigel tried to imagine his life returning to normalcy. Would he be tempted to attend the horrendous balls if he thought he’d have a chance to dance with Elsbeth? Would he be tempted to accept invitations to those dratted teas if there was the hope he’d have a chance to sit next to her and speak with her for a moment or two? Would he be able to return to his lonely life?

“Honestly? I don’t know.”

* * * *

At that very moment on a far field, the ladies had all gathered to partake in a friendly archery competition. With the pressing puzzle of Dionysus and what appeared to be an attack on Lord Edgeware, Elsbeth had claimed a headache and had excused herself from the excitement. Lady Waver had graciously volunteered to chaperone Olivia and Lauretta to the field so the girls wouldn’t miss out on the fun. Even more surprisingly, Lady Cowper had cheerfully joined in, volunteering to watch over the young ladies as well. It seemed that Edgeware’s efforts were beginning to change the
beau monde’s
opinion of her and her cousins.

Which was amazing, simply amazing.

Perhaps he wasn’t quite the villain she initially believed him to be. If he were a rotter like Charlie and her husband, certainly he wouldn’t have come to her defense after Dionysus’s painting went public. Which meant there had to be a good heart hidden somewhere inside the dark lord’s seductively broad chest, making what she was determined to do all the more difficult.

She tightened a gray cashmere shawl around her shoulders and followed one of Edgeware’s footmen into the manor’s dank buttery, a small storeroom off the kitchen where bottles of wine and other liquors were stored on shelves and casks of ale were stacked against the walls.

She was dressed in a gown purchased specifically for the house party. The fashionable pale pink walking dress with a muslin skirt flowed with almost indecent ease. Madame Bossier must have made a mistake with the design. Nearly all of her new gowns revealed far too much skin and seemed too sheer, hinting only too well at the shape hidden beneath the material. She gave her shawl another tug.

“I do beg your pardon,” she called out to the servant she was following, “but may I trouble you for a moment of your time?”

The footman, a giant of a man, stopped and turned toward her. His heavy brows furrowed and his thick lips sank into a deep frown. “Yes, m’lady?” he growled.

“What is your name?” she asked, briskly. This one footman, she’d noticed, tended to skulk through the halls at the most unusual hours and listen in on conversations he had no business hearing.

“Guthrie,” he said, the creases in his brow deepened. “What can I do for you? I’m busy.”