Seduction & Scandal (33 page)

“Perfectly, Uncle.”

“And there are to be no more shenanigans like this until you are well and truly married. Do you comprehend me?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Good. Sussex, Alynwick, I trust you can keep this to yourselves?”

“Naturally.”

Stonebrook went to leave, but Alynwick stopped him with a question. “What were
you
doing at the lodge in the middle of the night, Stonebrook?”

Her uncle could not disguise his discomfort at the question, nor could he hide how he tried to conceive of a reason for his appearance at the lodge. “Paperwork and a matter of Masonic business,” he muttered in supercilious tones. “And I don't need to answer to you, Alynwick. Insolent pup,” he muttered as he left, slamming the door behind him.

“An interesting development,” Alynwick said thoughtfully.

“He suffers from insomnia.” Isabella felt compelled to explain. “He frequently goes to the lodge at night. I doubt there is anything more behind it.”

With a shrug, the marquis glanced away.

“Alynwick and I have made plans,” Sussex announced. “I will continue to research this Orpheus business, and Alynwick will continue his probe into the Masons.
Hopefully we'll find the chalice—and discover who is behind all this. When you're healed, Black, you will join us.”

Isabella stiffened, but Jude put a calming hand on her own. “Of course.”

It was then that she realized that Black had to do this. Had to save others from the horrible fate Wendell had suffered. There was evil in that pendant, and however this Orpheus person they spoke of was, he was evil incarnate, too.

With Jude's hand on hers, Isabella could feel his warmth, his strength, his inner convictions flowing into her body. She had let fear rule her life for so many years, she knew she could no longer give her fears so much power. She would be concerned for Black, would pray for his safety, but she would not allow her worries to change what he was.

He was a Brethren Guardian—and would always be.

“Where will you start?” Black asked.

“The shooter,” Sussex declared. “The man on the rooftop. Orpheus himself.”

 

T
HE SALON DOOR OPENED
, then clicked softly closed behind him. Seated on the window bench sat Lucy, dressed in an unadorned white day gown. Her hair was loose, pulled back with a pink ribbon. She looked young—and sad. How his heart bled to see her like this.

Clearing his throat, Sussex sought to capture her attention, but she kept her gaze trained on the window. Dark circles rimmed her eyes, and the early-morning sunshine made her look pale and frail.

“Your father said I would find you here.”

She would not look at him. Would not turn her green eyes upon him. He was not who she wanted to see. “I suppose you have come to ask me something?”

Yes. No. Christ, he wanted to ask her to be his wife.
Ask her to love him as he loved her. Wanted to see some flicker of excitement, or at the very least, of welcome. But there was nothing like that in her eyes, or in the tone of her voice.

“I came to give you this.”

Two steps forward, he was beside her, the delicate white lace was in his hand and he pushed it at her, making her grasp it. Her gasp of shock and alarm seared his breast. Confirmation. A sword to his heart.

“You gave this to
him
.”

Slowly she looked up. Her eyes were glistening, with tears—with hope. That tiny flare of hope in her eyes killed whatever hope remained inside him.

“You don't have to answer. I see the truth in your eyes.”

“He's…still alive?”

“I don't know. I assume by now your father has told you what has occurred at the lodge. Knighton's dead, and he knows of the break-in.”

Her eyes went wide and he had to steel himself from taking her in his arms. She did not want him.

“Don't worry. He believes it was Knighton who broke in, and I will not disabuse him of that notion.”

“Thank you.”

“I found this on the rooftop of the lodge. The man who shot Knighton was there. I went to chase him but he was gone. The only evidence of his presence was that.”

Biting her lip, she looked at the lace that she held in her palm.

“Why did you bring this to me?”

Why? He'd asked himself that a dozen times as he left Black's house and crossed the street to Stonebrook. Why give this to her? She believed her lover dead. He was the only one who knew about that scrap of lace she held. But he had enough secrets, and didn't want this one. Besides, he wanted her to come to him without coercion, or sub
terfuge. Sussex wanted her to choose him, even knowing the bastard might very well be alive.

Pathetic as it was, he wanted her all to himself—without having another man there—always between them.

“You're playing some game,” she accused, and he could not refute it. This was no game. This was real and dangerous, and the bastard he hunted was a murderer, and a hundred other things he didn't want to think of.

“Admit it,” she demanded.

“You should know,” he said, not relishing what he had to say, “that if you pursue him, if indeed the man you long for is the man I hunt—the man who killed Knighton—”

“Then I will be your enemy,” she finished for him.

He nodded. Thankful that she at least had the strength to admit what he couldn't. He didn't want to think of Lucy enmeshed with this business. He didn't want to hurt her, but he had taken a vow, and his word was all he had—all he'd ever had. He was a Brethren Guardian, and it was all he would ever truly be.

“So cold-blooded,” she murmured as she looked up.

Oh, how little she knew of him. He was burning with heat and longing, and the urge to pull her up from the window seat and crush his mouth atop hers. Inside him was a need so scorching he was nearly shaking from it. But she would never allow herself to see that. Or to let him show her.

“If he has returned, I will protect him at all costs,” Lucy murmured. “If we are to be enemies, then so be it. Even if I must be the one to stand between you. I will not let you take him from me.”

With a bleeding heart, he bowed before her. “Good day, Lucy.”

Lucy watched as Sussex stepped up into his waiting carriage. The lace he had returned to her still felt warm from his body where he had carried it in his waistcoat
pocket. The scent of his cologne, earthy and masculine, infused the air around her.

She watched as the carriage lurched forward, then closed her eyes, wishing the image to come to her eyes. But it was not the image she wanted—it was Sussex, with his gray eyes that spoke of deep mysteries and dark secrets that she saw.

In a moment of sheer panic—and anger—Lucy realized that she could not quite recall what color
his
eyes had been…

Closing her journal, Isabella smiled in satisfaction. Beside her, her husband stirred. She glanced at him, but she saw he was no longer sleeping, but watching her.

The sheet had slipped to her waist, and Jude reached out, circling her nipple and areola. His gaze flickered to hers. “A man could become rather jealous of his wife's heroes. How fortunate for me that your hero is the embodiment of me.”

“How right you are. Death has always had your face.”

“Come then,” he said in a husky whisper. “I want some of what you've been giving Death.”

With a small cry, Isabella found herself dragged on top of him, her hair sliding along his chest. He made love to her long into the night, and Isabella knew at last what it was to be truly loved.

Dear Reader,

Seduction & Scandal
is the first in my new Guardian Brethren series, and I hope you enjoyed reading about Isabella and Lord Black as much as I loved writing about them. You probably noticed some unfinished business, however, such as what happened to the chalice that Wendell Knighton had? What is Lucy's connection with the House of Orpheus, and just why was Stonebrook at the Masonic lodge the night Knighton was killed? These questions will be answered in Lucy's upcoming story,
Pride & Passion.
I hope you'll watch for it!

Happy reading,

Charlotte Featherstone