Pride & Passion (27 page)

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Authors: Charlotte Featherstone

BOOK: Pride & Passion
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“Shall I get the chalice then and show you?”

“Later,” she whispered, “just lie with me here, and hold me.”

Her suggestion was far nicer and more pleasurable than his, and he indulged her. It was hours before he showed her the ancient chalice, and he did not regret
it. There was peace between them. In the beginning, at the inn, there had been a sort of truce, one based on cool politeness. But this feeling, this contentment, was peace and acceptance. They were married now, man and wife. He knew her, what she desired, what made her wet and moan, but most importantly he understood how she thought, her fears, her desires.

As a child she had thought of a picket fence and cottage. Wildflowers and a country lane. She had thought of children, of gardening and looking up to find her husband standing there. He wanted to give her that dream. Wanted to be part of it.

“I’ll follow you into your dreams,” he murmured to her. She slept deeply, and he kissed her ear. “I’ll be your very breath.” And he meant it.

 

T
HE WINDOW RATTLED
, stirring Lizzy from her sleep. Was it the wind? she wondered. She thought of calling for Maggie, but her companion had been unwell that day, so instead she tossed back the covers and padded across the floor. The breeze blew in, robbing her of breath. Strange how the window, which had been locked, suddenly blew open…

“Don’t make a sound.”

Her mouth was covered in an instant and a cloth pulled down firmly over her face. She fought, her cries muffled as a second person reached for her feet.

“Wait till she’s out, and then we’ll bring her to the carriage and collect our wages.”

“She’s strong,” the other grunted, letting her foot slip from his hold. She fell to the floor, her body uncoordinated from the ether. The side of her head hit, and she
heard nothing else as she slipped slowly into a state of mental darkness.

“Check her,” the voice said. “If she’s dead, Mr. Lasseter will have our bullocks strung up.”

“Alive,” his partner announced. “Let’s load her up before someone comes to check on her.”

Minutes later she was in the carriage.

“She’s nothing much to look at,” a woman’s voice said sourly. It was so familiar…

“She’s worth more to me than you can imagine.”

“What now, my love?”

“Alynwick. He’s the next piece in the puzzle. Bring him to me.” Too drowsy to react to what she was hearing, Lizzy finally gave in to the blackness.

 

T
HE NEXT MORNING
the sun was shining, the snow was melting and the air seemed to promise a bit of warmth. Inside, Adrian was cold—freezing. Tossing the letter onto his desk, he got up and strolled to the window, contemplated the grounds and tried to gather his self-control. It was never a difficult task for him, but this morning he was finding it nearly impossible to harness.

The door to his study opened, and he heard the soft tread of his wife. “You sent for me, darling?”

“Yes. Have your things packed. We’re leaving.”

He half turned from the window, with a wave of his hand he motioned to his desk. “I’ve had a letter from Lizzy. Something is wrong. She claims that Alynwick is acting out of sorts. Plus, she has been hearing strange things in the night, doors opening, windows unlocked, when she is certain they had been locked. I don’t like it. She’s alone, and I have only Alynwick to rely on to
take care of her. I knew it was a mistake not to drag her into the carriage myself.”

“I can be ready at once, Adrian.”

He reached her and held on to her tightly, as if he wouldn’t let her go. “You’ll not leave my side, do you understand. Not while we’re traveling, and not in London. I want you with me every minute.”

“All right,” she said as she smoothed a hand down his back. “I won’t go anywhere without you.”

“I dread what I will find when we arrive.”

So did she. She just hoped it wasn’t a heartbroken Elizabeth.

“Goddamn Alynwick, he was always reckless and impulsive. If he’s put my sister in danger, I’ll kill him, Brethren or no.”

 

T
HE CARRIAGE RIDE
had been grueling. They had barely spoken to one another; Adrian was lost in his thoughts and worries for Lizzy. Shadows were beneath his eyes, and she felt a measure of peace when he allowed her to hold him.

They were within the city now, and the sky, as if sensing their turmoil, had turned gray and leaden.

When the carriage pulled up in front of the house, they both jumped down and ran up the steps where Hastings waited uneasily.

“Tell me the worst of it,” her husband demanded.

“Lady Elizabeth has been gone for three days, your grace, and the Marquis of Alynwick with her.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

“I
DON’T LIKE
this, Adrian,” Lucy said the next evening as she watched her husband from across the table. “Is there another way?”

“No, there isn’t. Where else would she be but there, at the damned club? It had been his intent all the time, to take Elizabeth—to steal the artifacts for himself while I was out of London.”

“Alynwick is many things, but he’s not a kidnapper or a thief.”

“He’s in league with Orpheus. We found the evidence at his house, letters with the seal of Orpheus. Outlines of plans. Mentions of a fourth Templar. He was in league with Orpheus all this time. He knew our every move, and he betrayed us,” he growled. “Black and I will deal with him in a way that is fitting to his betrayal to us and my sister. I entrusted him with Lizzy, and the bastard lied to me.”

“I still cannot believe it.”

“I’ve shown you the proof. You’ve read it, their correspondence. Orpheus is the descendant of the fourth Templar the legend speaks of. It’s been Alynwick all this time.”

“I realize that the information looks that way but, Adrian, think. You’ve known him forever. He wouldn’t
hurt Elizabeth, and he would not betray you or Black. This is much too tidy, don’t you think?”

“I can’t think! Not while Lizzy is out there alone, unable to see or help herself. Damn it, Lucy, I can’t form a single intelligent thought.”

“I understand. I feel the same way, thinking of you entering that club with nothing but a gun. He killed Ana, and Thomas, too. He won’t stop till he kills you.”

“I won’t let him.”

“How will you prevent it? Please,” she begged. “You’re jumping to conclusions. Your passions are ruling your head. You need more time to rationalize it all.”

Adrian glanced up at his wife. On the eve of one’s potential death, it seemed most fitting to be sitting across the table from one who was your very life.

He had thought quite a bit about that today, the possibility that he might be returning home in the morning in a casket. It was a strange sensation, to feel your impending death while staving it off by gazing into the eyes of the woman who made you want to keep breathing.

“You know I must do this. Lizzy’s life depends upon us finding her—tonight.”

“I’m so afraid,” she whispered. “I don’t want to lose you.”

It was strange, he had never worried about death before, but tonight he was consumed with it. He’d even sent for his solicitor this afternoon to amend his will to ensure that Lucy would be properly cared for. Orpheus was a bastard, and he knew the man wouldn’t fight fair. Both his and Black’s lives would be in danger.

“I will see you at breakfast, my love. You’ll see…all will turn out well.”

Such an innocent statement, one that had a profound effect on him. He couldn’t imagine it, not being able to see her again, not staring at her over tea and toast, and the morning paper. Not sharing a tray in their room after a night of lovemaking.

By God, he could stand this thinking no more. Standing, he tossed his napkin onto the table and walked to her end. Without a word, he took her hand and helped her up, put his arm through hers and steered her out of the room.

“Adrian, don’t go. Please?” she said. “Not yet.”

Opening his study door he ushered her through, closed the door, locked it and shoved her against it. “Forgive me,” he said, his mouth descending to her throat. “I can’t be soft. I have to have you now. Tonight, before it’s… Well, before it’s too late and I must go.”

He was frantic with his need for her, his hands searching over her gown, the bodice, inching the hem up her thighs.

“Adrian—please,” she whispered, her voice breaking down into tears.

“No words,” he moaned into her mouth as his hand cupped and squeezed her thigh, then her bottom. “Let our bodies say what needs to be said. Actions speak louder than words.”

She accepted him, kissing him as frantically as he kissed her. He needed her, to be inside her, possibly for the last time. He wanted to give her something of him to remember in the long nights without him. He wanted to spill deep inside her and give her his soul—his child.
She might already be pregnant and he might not ever see him or her. Which only fueled his need and fear.

“Yes,” she moaned as he lifted and wrapped her legs around his waist. He had nearly taken her like this the first time, and there was beauty in it, symmetry. That night had catapulted them into a discovery of one another. It had been the beginning, and this moment would be a new one.

“Lucy,” he growled as he struggled with the fastening of her gown, the chemise, and thank God, she had forgone the corset. It felt like forever before she was bared to him, her tiny breasts teasing him.

“Perfect mouthful,” he murmured before capturing her breast while his hand cupped her bottom, holding her. He suckled and licked and she cried out, her fingers raking hard through his hair. He had already freed himself, and he slid hard and fast inside her, stretching her, and she cried out, clutched him and rocked against him, encouraging him with her kisses that were all over, that were raw and uncoordinated. It was messy and loud, and frantic, and it was better than anything they had shared.

The way he slammed inside her taking her against the door spoke of his need, his wildness, the way she accepted him, encouraged him for more, told him what he needed to know, that she was his. She had always been his.

“Adrian, now,” she begged, and he obeyed her, only to collapse against her. They sank to the floor, still holding each other, panting and whispering, caressing and kissing each other with soft, loving mouths.

“I’ll come back to you,” he whispered, not meaning to say it out loud. “And I will ravish you over breakfast, and I will never leave you alone another night of my life.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

H
OW HAD HE
gotten here? He had no clue. His head still pounded and the taste of ether made him gag. The pain in his shoulder where he had been stabbed ached, the wound stiff and crusted with his dried blood.

The steps to Sussex’s town house seemed an enormous mountain to climb, but he endured it. Beth was gone, and he couldn’t find her. He’d been out for days searching for her when he had been accosted, stabbed in a fight with none other than Nigel Lasseter as he’d come silently upon the man known to him and his Brethren as Orpheus.

He’d almost had the bastard, too, thanks to Lady Larabie, who led him straight to his nemesis. But as he cornered Lasseter in his room, another had come out of the shadows, bashing him over his head until he crumpled to the floor. He had awakened in a back room of the Adelphi, Sutherland had discovered him, only because he had sent his valet to follow Nigel Lasseter. By the grace of God he was still alive, alive and relieved to find Sussex returned home from Yorkshire.

He did not have to ring the bell. It opened as if by magic and the sound of a gun being cocked and pointed between his eyes greeted him.

“You’ve saved me considerable trouble, Alynwick,” Sussex said with deadly calm.

“Where is Elizabeth?” he demanded, trying to figure out what the hell was happening.

“You tell me…what have you done with her?”

“Goddamn it, Sussex, if you think you can just take her from me when I’ve been all she’s had these past weeks, you are sorely mistaken.”

“You traitorous bastard,” Sussex snarled. “I’d shoot you dead right now if I didn’t need you to tell me where my sister is.”

“I don’t know, damn you!” he snapped. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Orpheus is Nigel Lasseter. I’ve been to the club, I’ve seen him.”

“We know what you’ve done, and who you have been with, Alynwick. Betraying us. Betraying me. We found the correspondence between you.”

“What!” This couldn’t be happening. It just couldn’t. Sussex was wrong, there was a mistake.

“No mistake. It was all there in your study drawer. You should have been more careful, but then you probably never imagined Lizzy would write to me to tell me of your bizarre behavior.”

He couldn’t think; the world was suddenly spinning. “Damn you, Sussex, it’s a trap. I’m not one of them. I only want to find Elizabeth. Someone has taken her, and it sure as hell wasn’t me!”

Something flickered in Sussex’s gaze, and he slowly lowered the gun.

“I swear,” Alynwick vowed, falling to his knees, “I do not know where she is. I want only to find her. We’re wasting time, Sussex, time we don’t have—time that is running out for Elizabeth. If you cannot believe me
about anything else, then believe me about this. I love your sister.”

Lucy appeared at her husband’s side then closed her hand around Sussex’s arm. “Come inside, it’s late, and there are people about. We don’t need to perform such a show.”

Sussex gathered her close and rested his head against hers. She brought him closer until he was covering her with a tight embrace. “She’s alone, in the dark…afraid,” he whispered. “What if I can’t find her…”

“We’ll find her,” she whispered, “we will.”

“Stay, Lucy—” he gripped her tighter “—stay with me at all times because I can’t lose you, too.”

“I will. I promise.”

Pulling away, he turned back to Alynwick. “Finding Elizabeth is paramount. The rest, Black and I will deal with. Hastings,” Sussex ordered. “Send Lord Black a message to meet here.”

Alynwick looked distraught. “I can’t waste any more time knowing she’s out there all by herself. I have to keep searching.”

“We have nothing to go on.”

“You gather the clues, with Black,” he called as he started back down the stairs. “I’ll tear that club to pieces searching for her.”

“The hell you will. I don’t trust you, you bloody bastard!”

Lucy reached for Adrian. “Let him go,” she whispered. “He’ll prove no use to you in this state.”

He stared at her, his expression perplexed. “He said he loved her.”

Her eyes were wet, she loved this man so much, and
she loved Elizabeth, who she was truly frightened for. “He does. And I believe him. No man could look so wretched if he was lying about such a thing.”

With a nod, he reached for her hand and brought it to his mouth, pressing it softly to his lips and holding it there.

“Promise me, Adrian, you’ll find Lizzy and bring her back home.”

“I will, love. As you know, I always keep my promises.”

 

I
N THE DARKNESS
, Lizzy listened to the distant echo of water dripping onto stones. She was quite alone now, with only her thoughts. Fear had long since left her, and she was left to lie upon the cold, damp stone in nothing more than her night rail.

She had no way of knowing how long she had been gone, if Sussex had received her letter and was even now on his way back home. She didn’t dare hope that Alynwick knew she was missing—they’d fought, and he swore never to grace her door again.

Oh, stupid, pigheaded fool that she was! She had let her pride get the better of her, and now she was trapped here, quite alone and at a madman’s mercy.

She began to twist and cry, to claw at anything around her, searching fruitlessly for a way out of this tomb she found herself in.

Laughter echoing off the walls made her still.

“It’s quite useless, you stupid chit,” the voice said, and she stilled, cocked her head to the side. She knew that voice.

“Yes,” the voice said again. “You thought it was
over? Well, my dear, I’m here to tell you, it’s just begun. And in the end, I will be back where I should have always been.”

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