Any Wicked Thing (31 page)

“Only want to eat you.” Oh, that was not the proper thing to say. She should say something different, but the room was spinning. It was probably best not to speak anymore. Frederica closed her eyes to stop the unicorn on the tapestry from undulating so freakishly. His horn reminded her of—

“J
ust as I said, cracked.”

Cam had pillaged the tray and there wasn't much left for Sebastian when he came back downstairs. He poured himself another drink, not knowing whether he should be grateful for Freddie's intolerance to alcohol or damn it. She really had not been herself when she seduced him ten years ago. Or perhaps she
had
been herself, her inhibitions released. In vino veritas.

She said she had loved him.

Puppy love, to be sure. She had barely been out of the schoolroom. He must have seemed a glamorous figure, fresh from his jaunt on the Continent—at least to places that Napoleon had not gotten to first.

It was a crush. Meant nothing then. Nothing now.

“Sebastian! Are you listening?”

Sebastian snapped out of his reverie and cut a slice of seedcake. “Yes, yes. Cracked. As I told you earlier, Freddie has had a tough time up here. Lonely. Isolated. Unused to male company.” And what male company there had been had not been precisely run-of-the-mill.

“And obviously a lush. The girl drank half the whiskey while we were out in the hallway.” Cam lifted the cut-glass decanter and splashed the last of the amber liquid into his tumbler.

“No, she rarely has spirits. Some wine with dinner, that's all.”

“She's an odd little duck, isn't she?”

Sebastian bit the inside of his cheek. “Why do you say that?”

“She doesn't have much polish. Sophistication. Says things she shouldn't. She looks the sort who will expect a man to stay home and read books with her. Not,” Cam said hastily, noting the glare that Sebastian aimed toward him, “that she's not attractive in her own way.”

“I think she's attractive in anybody's way.” He closed his eyes, seeing her lashed to his bed, her white thighs spread wide, her naked pussy wet, her generous breasts tipped to the side.
Damn
. He certainly couldn't relate that image to Cam. The man would be beating a path to Freddie's door before he finished the sentence.

His thoughts must have been revealed on his face, for he heard Cam chuckle. “Look at you! You're hard as a schoolboy. Go to her. She'll never know you're not a dream. I'll entertain myself until dinnertime. I don't suppose there's a frisky parlor maid anywhere about this dump?”

Sebastian got hold of himself. “Freddie's sleeping. And drunk. I may not be much of a gentleman, but I'll not take her when she's unconscious.” She'd said she wanted him. But he didn't want a muddled Freddie. He wanted her alert, aware that she was ceding herself to him, capitulating utterly. “Come, I'll take you on a tour of the castle. The weather's perfect for it, all gray gloom and whistling wind.”

“Must we save the long gallery for tomorrow? I'm anxious to see centuries of Archibalds before their ruin.”

“We'll start there, then. I'd better bring a branch of candles. There won't be much natural light with the storm outside. You've never said—did the old earl ever acknowledge you?” Sebastian led the way up a set of circular steps, their footsteps echoing on the slick stone.

“He paid for my schooling, but I never had the dubious pleasure of meeting him. My mother was a respectable woman before she caught his eye. But he was married.”

“And there were no other children.”

“No, and he had three wives, the randy old goat. Just as well. Any heir would have had the title stripped, too, and all the holdings. It doesn't pay to do treason.”

Sebastian paused to strike his flint and light the candles. Despite them, the long gallery was steeped in shadows. More than a dozen portraits lined the wall, most life-sized or larger. The Archibalds had been a handsome lot, although a few looked as if they smelled something that disagreed with them. Their faces showed excessive pride. Superiority. Hubris bred into the bone to enable the last Earl of Archibald to betray his country and think he could get away with it.

“Fascinating.” Cam paced the corridor, standing at a respectful distance from his blood relatives. He turned to Sebastian and struck a pose. “Do you think I fit in with this lot of rogues?”

“You have the eyes, don't you? I'm surprised Freddie didn't notice. She's the expert on the castle and its history.”

“Which one is my sainted papa, I wonder?”

“From the clothes, I would venture to guess that one on the end. With the spaniels.”

Cam stepped closer to this painting. It showed a young man not long out of school. His fair hair was unpowdered, his face not yet formed with the haughtiness of his ancestors. “I am by far the more handsome.”

Sebastian laughed. “And somewhat more principled. Cam, I don't mean to pry, but why would you want anything to do with this place? It's not as if you even knew your father or grew up here.”

Cam stuffed his hands in his pocket. “I'm not interested anymore. Your bluestocking will buy the place and we shall all live happily ever after.”

Sebastian knew him well. When Cam lied, his fingers inevitably crossed, a leftover from his fatherless childhood. Sebastian had seen his share of finger-crossing in Egypt, when they both would say anything, do anything, to survive.

Sebastian slapped his hand to his forehead. “Bloody hell! You think there
is
treasure hidden away here, don't you? Did you plan to cheat me out of it?”

Cameron showed no shame. From his perspective, he probably thought he was owed anything he could get to make up for the indignities he'd suffered. “From everything I've learned about my father, money was his sole motivator. He didn't love the French or hate the English. He cared absolutely nothing for his three wives. In fact, my mother told me there were whispers that he did away with at least one of them. The government never found the germinal francs that were used to pay him to set up his spy ring. I've seen the damning paperwork, Sebastian. You know I helped the war effort in my own way as I knocked around, and have access to things that you do not. Allegedly the earl received a substantial amount. Substantial. The rumors are all over the place, but even if a fraction of the amount discussed is accurate, it would take your breath away.

“There was nothing found at his town house in London. Not here. A swarm of His Majesty's agents picked apart every stone of Archibald Castle before your father bought the place.”

“Well, then. How did they miss it?”

Cam shook his head. “I don't know. But I've got a feeling. And, fool that I am, I'm telling you this. You and your little bluestocking could live for a couple of centuries on the reputed sum.”

“We'd have to find it first.” Sebastian leaned back against a rainsplattered window. His heart tripped. What if Cam was right, and there
was
a fortune to be found? He could afford to let Freddie stay right up here scribbling away, and he could go back to traveling the globe. He'd have his life back, with no fear of being clapped in the Fleet. “Does Sanderson know about this?”

“I don't think so. He just wants to add the castle to his collection. Eccentric old bird. If you're thinking to pit me in a bidding war with him, don't bother. My funds are limited.”

Sebastian rubbed his jaw, working out the best way to proceed. It was true he probably wouldn't even be standing here, hot candle wax dripping on his thumb, without Cam's friendship. He set the candelabra down on the window embrasure. “I'll give you a week to find the money and we'll split it. I keep the castle, and you have a consolation prize. We're talking about gold and silver coins, yes? Easily melted down? I don't want the government claiming a centime.”

Cam gaped at him. “That's bloody generous of you, Sebastian.”

“What can I say? You did save my life. But not another word from you about it. If you don't find anything, you'll leave.”

Neither one of them was entitled to Napoleon's bribe. For a moment, Sebastian wished his father was alive so he could quiz him on the steps the government had taken over the Archibald estate. The pater could have used the blunt, too, to fritter away on his Middle Ages muck. He and the king's men must have been satisfied there was nothing to the tale of hidden treasure. If Sebastian and Cam did indeed find the missing money, they would have to be the souls of discretion disposing of it. Getting rid of half would prove to be easier than getting rid of it all, and if what Cameron said was true, half would be more than enough to get him off the River Tick for life. “Fair enough. You do know how indolent I am, though. I'm not apt to exert much muscle to tear this place apart.”

“You won't have to,” Sebastian said dryly. “It looks as though it's tearing itself apart on its own.”

“What about your Miss Wells? Shall we engage her in this scavenger hunt?”

“I'm not sure yet. Let me think on it.” Law-abiding little Freddie would probably want to box up the francs and send them straight to Whitehall.

“She might notice when we strip down and start digging holes in the dining hall.”

“Will it come to that? Don't you have a theory where the money might be?”

“Not really. The Crown looked in all the conventional spots—the well, the wine cellar, the dungeons, etcetera. I'm at a disadvantage not knowing my old man personally. I had to spend a fortune to bribe a fellow in the War Office to get my hands on the diary he left behind. Not the original, mind. The fellow copied out the pages, so for all I know, when he couldn't read my father's writing he made something up. From what I have, it's been difficult to piece together Archibald's thought process. He may look innocent in this portrait, but I assure you he had a twisted mind. The spy ring he ran was the work of a mad genius.”

“Freddie can help, I think,” Sebastian said thoughtfully. “She's used to poring through old rubbish to figure things out, and she knows the castle inside and out. I'll talk to her tomorrow. When she's sober.” He extended a hand. “Partners again, then? You won't unearth the fortune in secret and abscond in the middle of the night?”

“I am not my father. And I owe you, too.” Cam gripped his hand, and their eyes truly met for the first time since Sebastian found him in the library. No words were necessary between them.

Sebastian broke away first, wondering what he had gotten himself into. He'd have to creatively juggle his days with Freddie and still scour the castle. If nothing was found in a week, Cam would leave them in peace to their sin. Seven days would be a long time to deprive himself of Freddie's body—too long. Not even the lure of the Archibald treasure was enough to make Sebastian turn celibate. He was not ready to give her up. What had started out as a kind of punishment for her was punishing him instead, stirring up things better left unexplored.

She said she had loved him. Nonsense. Certainly now she used him as he used her. Whoring with him ensured a roof over her head and lined his pockets. That was all it was, all it could be.

Sebastian looked out the window. The rain had ceased while they had plotted, and a rainbow bent over the misty moors. A good omen, to be sure, not that he believed in such things. “Come. We've still got a few hours of light. Let's walk the grounds before supper. Catch up.”

“You'll risk your boots in the wet grass?”

Sebastian smiled. “If you are right, I'll have the wherewithal for a dozen pairs.”