My Ruthless Prince (35 page)

He wrapped his around her waist and held her for a long moment, resting his head in the crook of her neck, accepting her shelter for once. A ragged breath moved through him as he realized he was finally free.

The Prometheans were gone. The Order no longer needed him. He could devote himself fully to their future together. It was the fulfillment of a dream. He pulled back slightly, took her face between his hands, and kissed her in fervent amazement.

Running her hands over his arms, she returned his kiss with trembling devotion--but only for a moment before she stopped him.

"Tell me we will always be together from now on," she choked out. "No more secrets. No more lies."

He gazed at her in soul-deep sincerity. "Yes." He nodded slowly. "You have my word this time." He kissed her hand while the moon grew brighter, struggling free of the shadow. "You will still marry me?" he added, staring at her with some concern about her answer after what he'd put her through.

But a radiant smile broke across her face. "Of course I will," she whispered in a tone of tremulous joy. "If it's the only way to keep you out of trouble."

He smiled ruefully. They both knew it was true.

Then, with fresh tears in her eyes, she threw her arms around him once more and covered his sweaty, dirty face in kisses. He cupped the back of her head after a moment, gazed at her, and shook his head rather dazedly. "I love you so much," he whispered.

"I love you, too. Drake, you are my life."

He trembled in awe at the love that poured from her very fingertips as she caressed his face, wiping away a smudge of soot. Her touch was healing, her kiss sheer heaven. He claimed her lips again.

When the kiss ended, he gazed at his soon-to-be bride for a long moment, marveling at the woman that little Emily Harper had become--her courage, her beauty, so unique. Nothing common about his future countess. He admired her otherworldly violet eyes, brilliant in the restored illumination of the moon.

"What are you staring at?" she teased in a whisper.

"My future."

She smiled. "Will you take me home now, beloved?" she asked him softly. The same question she had been asking from the start. Indeed, the only thing she had ever asked of him.

He swallowed hard, nodding with a pang for all he'd put her through. Then he drew her protectively into his embrace, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Holding her, he made her a silent vow that, from this night forward, she had only to ask; he'd give her anything she wanted.

From the time they were children, Emily Harper had given her all for him. It would be his privilege to do the same for her, tonight and forever.

"Yes, my angel," he answered at last in a husky whisper. "
Now
we can go home."

Epilogue

London

A
brisk morning rain pounded his umbrella as Beau hurried down Whitehall with long, swift strides. In one of those countless stuffy rooms in Parliament, the panel of investigators from the Home Office was waiting to grill him. He was on edge, dreading the day ahead and very nearly running late.

He had been up most of the night rehearsing short, efficient answers to the questions he expected--but he suddenly stopped in his tracks when the petite, elegant figure of a young lady stepped into his path ahead.

"Lord Beauchamp!" she called in a firm tone that would brook no denial.

His first reaction at the sight of Miss Carissa Portland was mad delight. His second was,
Oh, God. Not now.

The charming gossip--no, "lady of information"--stared at him, all business, as if she, too, wished to interrogate him this morning. The pert look of expectancy on her delicate face warned him in a glance that Miss Portland wanted answers.

He already had a fair idea of what she wanted to know. Not that he blamed her. For a chit who had the dirt on all the latest scandals, it must be killing her not to know where her best friend had gone--namely, Max's wife, Daphne, Lady Rotherstone.

Still, Beau's grin thinned to a more guarded smile, and he slowed his pace, approaching her. Hang it, he did not have time for this at present.

Fortunately, he well remembered that, so far, flirting with her had proved the quickest way to make her run.

"My dear Miss Portland! What an unexpected pleasure," he greeted her with a bit of a purr in his voice. Strolling toward her, he let his gaze roam over her slim, fetching figure. "What on earth brings so fair a flower out in such inclement weather?"

Her coral pink lips fairly pursed with disapproval at his blaze of charm. "I came to speak to you, my lord."

"Indeed? Walk with me?" He gestured toward the pavement ahead. "I'm afraid I'm awfully busy. I have an appointment."

"Then I will be brief." She turned to walk beside him but declined the arm he offered, peering at him suspiciously from beneath the brim of her dark velvet bonnet.

"So, what can I do for you?" he asked, keeping his expression carefully neutral.

"
Where
is Lady Rotherstone?" she demanded at once. Her voice was hushed, as though they were discussing foreign espionage. "I know you must know something."

He strove not to smile, matching her serious expression. "Mmm. Why do you think that?"

"Because you and Lord Rotherstone are fellow members of that dreadful Inferno Club!" she shot back with a nervous glance around. Decent girls did not mention that supposed den of iniquity, not in broad daylight. "I know you two are friends. He must have told you something!"

"Rotherstone went off on a hunting trip to Switzerland or something," he said with a shrug. "You would know better than I where his wife might be. I would assume she's taking some time to herself at one of their country estates."

"No! That's the problem! I've already written to all of them to check. The staff wrote back. She isn't there! Daphne's nowhere to be found, and Kate, the Duchess of Warrington, seems to have disappeared as well!"

"Do you think they've gone off somewhere together? Paris, maybe? Shopping or something?"

"But why wouldn't they invite me?" she asked rather plaintively, almost moving Beau to pity. But she quickly hid whatever small hurt she might have felt. "This isn't like them. They should be in London, especially Daphne, now that the Season's started. She hasn't missed the opening day at Ascot since our debut. I tell you, something's wrong! What if they're in danger? Please, if you know anything, my lord, I am beside myself with worry!"

"Worry?" He stopped walking and turned to her, holding his umbrella over both of them to help protect her from the elements. "My dear, I'm sure there is no need to fret--"

"Lord Beauchamp, do not patronize me! If you know something about this, you'd better tell me what it is!"

"Or what?" he asked mildly, trying to calm her down with a playful smile.

Carissa didn't smile back. "Or--" she said, edging closer and narrowing her fiery green eyes. "I will tell Society that you are under investigation in Parliament
again
."

Beau went motionless.

"That's where you're headed now, isn't it?"

Cunning little minx.
But he saw the look in her eyes, a look that said, Don't you dare trifle with me. And he realized this was not the time to lie. He swallowed a curse. "How did you know?"

"My uncle is the Earl of Denbury. I am his ward. I live with his family, you know. He's quite political. He and his friends in the House of Lords keep each other apprised of what's going on in each other's committees. Well . . ." She lifted her chin a bit defensively. "I sneaked into his study at home and glanced over his papers."

Beau lifted his eyebrows, gazing at the impudent hoyden with a whole new appreciation. Lady of information, indeed!

"What did you do this time, anyway?" she prodded him. "Another duel?"

He frowned. "How did you know about that?"

She just looked at him.

"That was years ago!" He snorted. "I was cleared of all charges, anyway."

"Humph." She assessed him with a skeptical eye.

He turned away, scowling. "If you will excuse me, Miss Portland, I must go."

The impertinent chit had the nerve to grab the crook of his arm as he stepped away. "You're not going anywhere until you tell me where Daphne is!"

Beau turned around and glared at her. "I can't."

She arched one slender auburn eyebrow in warning.

He growled, but did not dare trust the clever gleam in her emerald eyes. "Daphne's fine! Kate's with her, and they're both perfectly safe, so stop worrying," he whispered in reproach.

Though he was thoroughly irked by the feeling she had bested him in this, he could not afford to have the little gossip spreading news all over London about the Home Office's probe into the Inferno Club.

Besides, he could see that her worry about her friend was genuine, and he could sympathize all too well, with his own teammates, Nick and Trevor, missing now for months. Oh, yes, he knew exactly how she must be feeling. "I'll tell Lady Rotherstone to write to you to confirm that she's all right."

"Well, where are they? What's going on? Why can't I see them--"

"That's all you need to know! Now, I mean it, keep your mouth shut about this investigation."

"Or what?" she retorted, throwing his own breezy challenge of a moment ago back at him.

Beau stared at her.

"Or this," he whispered. Then he reached out and grasped her nape, pulling her to him and kissing her hard, while using his umbrella to shield them from view.

His heart thundered, right along with the teeming gray skies. Carissa Portland held perfectly still as he ravished her mouth in forceful abandon.

She seemed to be in shock.

He didn't care.

He'd been dying to taste the girl since the first night he'd laid eyes on her. Of course, as he devoured her satin lips, he knew full well that Max's team was going to thrash him for this if they found out.

Daphne herself had noticed Beau's interest in Carissa; but he was not to touch her. He had been
warned.
The alluring little redhead was an innocent.

So everyone assumed.

Beau had his doubts.

Familiar as he was with the ways of women, he sensed a certain dormant passion hiding underneath her prim demeanor, and he was rather sure that given a little time, he could coax it out.

Which was why Daphne had informed her formidable husband Max about the way that he, the unrepentant libertine Beauchamp, eyed up young Carissa. Beau was quite sure, no matter what she said, that Carissa rather liked it.

But shortly after that, he'd been advised by Max and Jordan and, most worrisome, by Rohan, of exactly what would happen to him if he laid a finger on Daphne's little friend.

If they had known him better, they would have realized this would only add fuel to his fire.

Tasting her forbidden lips at last, he was happy to take whatever beating followed. The kiss he stole was worth it.

Extravagantly so.

He made the most of the experience, savoring her tongue in a most indecent fashion. God, he'd known it--he could feel the passionate woman in her holding herself back with everything she had.

At last, the little would-be blackmailer recovered her wits enough to push her palms hard against his chest.

Beau released her, his heart thumping, victory in his eyes.

He smiled at her matter-of-factly and braced himself for a slap.

It didn't come.

Snapping out of her daze all of a sudden, she backed away, red-faced and sputtering. "Why you, you--how dare you!" She looked him up and down like he was an evil genie who had just popped out of a bottle.

Beau slipped her a crooked smile. "Let's do that again, sometime soon."

Prim once more, she sucked in a gasp, whirled around, and fled.

He stood in the street and laughed aloud, his blood pumping, his heart light with merriment--until he suddenly remembered the waiting panel of bloody bureaucrats.

He pulled out his fob watch and glanced at it with a curse, dashing off.

Then he ran the rest of the way to Parliament.

About the Author

GAELEN FOLEY is the author of seventeen rich, sexy, and dramatic Regency historicals. Her books have won many awards, are published in numerous languages, and appear regularly on the
New York Times
and
USA Today
bestseller lists. She lives in Pennsylvania with her college-sweetheart husband, Eric, and a spoiled bichon frise named Bingley. To learn more about Gaelen, her novels, and the romantic Regency period in which her books are set, please visit her on the web at
www.gaelenfoley.com.

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