Before The Scandal (20 page)

He—and she knew who it was without looking—sat on the rug behind her. Fingers stroked softly through her hair, sending a warm tingle down her spine. For a long moment he simply sat there in silence, playing with her hair.

“I’m sorry,” Phin finally said, his voice low and quiet and intimate.

She kept her chin on her knees. “What are you sorry for?”

“Firstly, for being so…awful, as you put it. I had no choice.”

“It’s not me to whom you should be apologizing.”

“Yes, I know that. Smythe suspects me of being The Frenchman, though, and I didn’t want him thinking that William condoned—or even knew—what I’ve been up to.”

“You’ve still hurt your family, when they’ve done nothing wrong.”

“That’s my hell, then. But I owe
you
an apology as well, Alyse.”

She drew a breath, part of her wishing that daybreak would never come, and they could just sit like this forever. “Are you going to apologize for kissing me, or for…bedding me?”

“Neither. Everything since I’ve come home has been a surprise. You’ve been the best part of it.”

If there had been anything that could make her feel worse and more conflicted than before, hearing him say that accomplished it. “I think you should go.”

“I think you should confirm Richard’s suspicions about me.”

Alyse froze.

“What do you mean?” she stammered, not daring to look at him now.

“I was in Richard’s office earlier,” he returned. “Looking for anything that might explain this mess. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I didn’t have much choice.”

Her cheeks flushed. “If your plan was to be nice to me or to seduce me into keeping my silence, you shouldn’t have said anything about that.”

“I put you in the middle of this mess.” He put a hand on her shoulder, gently turning her to face him. “I want to make it up to you.”

“By having me turn you in? If you’re concocting another game, at least make it believable.”

“I’m serious. Ten thousand pounds, Alyse. No more doing the wash or mending socks for your damned aunt.”

“And you hanged.”

Phin shook his head, leaning in to softly brush his lips against her forehead. She liked the gesture; it was as though he couldn’t help himself, that he simply needed to touch her. “It won’t happen.”

“So you’ll flee back to the Continent? You’ll never be able to return home.” And that thought bothered her a great deal.

“I need to ask you for a few days before you tell Richard what you know. Will you give me three days?”

She eyed him. “You aren’t going to ask for my help, or for me to tell you what I know?”

“I want to, but I won’t. I have enough enemies, and I don’t want to make one of you. Just give me three days, and I’ll do the rest. Will you do that?”

It could be a ploy, she supposed, Phin’s version of playing the compassionate friend in order to sway her decision. It felt different than that, though, and the look in his green-brown eyes was serious and troubled. “Tell me what you know,” she said.

“Alyse, I’ve done badly enough by you. If you ask me, I’ll tell you, but the more you want to be involved, the more I will involve you. Be careful what you ask for.”

She searched his face for a long moment. He’d certainly given her a way out, had even removed a share of guilt from the equation. “I don’t want to be used, Phin,” she said quietly, holding his gaze.

“I underst—”

“If you want my help, ask me for it. No tricks, no seductions, and no lies. Just ask me. And tell me the truth.”

To her surprise, he smiled—the open, genuine smile he’d had as a youth, before…before the scandal, before everything had gone wrong. “I won’t promise not to seduce you, but I will swear that it’s only because I can’t keep my hands off you.”

Oh, goodness
. “I can accept that,” she said unsteadily, heat starting between her legs.

“Good.”

Phin tilted her face up and kissed her, softly at first, and then with more and more…need. He groaned against her mouth, sweeping his arms around her and lowering her onto her back.

“Aren’t you going to tell me what you know?” she asked, then gasped as he opened the front of her night rail and reached in to circle his fingertips around her left breast, moving in closer and closer until he gently pinched her nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“Later,” he murmured, lowering his head. “I can’t think at the moment.” His mouth closed over her breast, sucking and pulling.

Her eyes rolled back in her head. She could certainly understand his inability to think. Nothing was supposed to feel this good. That was certainly why unmarried persons weren’t supposed to indulge. Because if they did, then why marry at all?

“Phin,” she murmured, lifting her hips as he tugged at the bottom hem of her night rail, pulling it up around her waist.

“Lift up,” he ordered thickly, and pulled the gown off over her head.

His very capable mouth returned to hers, then trailed down between her breasts, lingered at her belly, tongue flicking, before he slipped down between her thighs. Panting breathlessly, Alyse tangled her fingers into his hair.

She felt on fire, flames sweeping around her and through her. This was Phin, her Phin, and he wanted to be with her. It was a powerful realization, that as seductive as he could be, as dangerous as he could be, he’d come here, to her.

Phin sat back a little, just enough to pull off his waistcoat and then yank his shirt off over his head. Someone had put a fresh bandage across his shoulder, she noted. Someone else had touched him. His valet, she hoped. “Come up here,” he growled.

Alyse sat up, and he took her hands, guiding them to the fastening of his trousers. He watched her hands, his breath coming deep and fast. Running her tongue across her lips, Alyse brushed her fingers across the tented material at his crotch. Phin jumped, his eyes half closing. “This excites you,” she whispered shakily.

“You excite me.”

She unfastened the buttons as swiftly as her fumbling fingers could manage, then yanked down his trousers to his thighs. He came free, proud and erect. Alyse’s mouth went dry. “Goodness,” she murmured.

Phin grinned again. “Nothing good about it,” he returned, pressing her back again and following her down with another heart-stopping, openmouthed kiss.

“What do I call it?”

“A cock,” he said in his low drawl.

“That sounds wicked.”

“Oh, it is.”

He kicked out of his trousers, then wrapped his arms around her and twisted so that in a breathless whirl she ended up lying atop him. Phin reached up, pulling her face down to kiss her again, teasing at her mouth with his tongue until she opened to him. His tongue flicked along her teeth, shocking and intimate. His…cock pressed up between her thighs. She wanted it inside her, and lifted up.

“Phin, what—”

Reaching between them to guide himself, he drew her back down on him again with his free hand on her hip. As she sank down over him, on him, he sighed. The sensation as he slowly filled her was…indescribably satisfying and arousing. Alyse moaned shakily, curling forward over his chest.

“You’re not going to faint, are you?” he asked, laughter in his deep voice.

“No.”

“Good, because that wouldn’t be seemly.” He placed both hands on her hips, lifting her up and then drawing her down again, pressing up with his hips to match the motion.

“Like riding a horse,” she gasped, repeating the motion as he pursued her again.

“A very naughty one,” he agreed, plunging up into her as she lifted up and down, up and down across his hips.

They moved faster and faster, more and more urgently, until she drew so tight she couldn’t even breathe. And then she shattered, collapsing against his chest. Phin surged up into her again, wrapping his arms around her to hold her as he moaned, shuddering, against her.

She lay across his chest, entwined with him, until her breath and heartbeat steadied. Then she sat up a little. “How is your shoulder?”

“Hurts like the devil,” he answered, reaching up to twine a strand of her hair around his finger. “What say we move to the bed?”

With a nod she reluctantly separated from him to stand, taking his good hand to pull him to his feet beside her. He’d been nearly six feet tall when he’d left, and he had to be several inches past that now. He was still lean, but more muscular and solid-looking than she remembered. And of course there were the scars.

“Keep looking at me like that, and we won’t make it to the bed,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss her once more. As he straightened, a lock of his brown hair fell across his forehead, making him look young and disheveled and devilishly delicious.

Alyse smiled. “Is your mind working again?” she asked, not bothering to dress again before she slipped between her sheets, shifting over to leave room for him.

“Barely functional.” Shifting his trousers closer to the bed, Phineas lay down on his back, pulling her across his chest and helping her lift the blankets to cover them both.

“Who rebandaged your wound?”

“Gordon. My sergeant. My valet.” Phineas, still filled with the need to touch her, rested his palm on her shoulder. “He said you did a sterling dressing, by the way, and he’s patched me up enough to know the difference.”

She chuckled, her breath soft along his chest. No tears, no panicking for Alyse Donnelly. She’d already seen what their world had to offer for those who…disappointed. And she continued to live her life as she chose, as best she could under her present circumstances. God, she was a brave soul. Braver than he was. If she wanted to know everything, he would tell her.

“I told you that I saw Smythe with the wolfhounds,” he began quietly. “And he denied it again tonight.”

“Yes. I noticed that. It’s still just your word, however. Or rather, The Frenchman’s word.”

“I found a map in Richard’s office that matches the one I liberated from Smythe. Take a look at this.” Stretching to reach his trousers and trying not to wince, he pulled Donnelly’s map from his pocket and unfolded it. “Smythe’s drawing is back at Quence, but the center of attention seems to be those damned ruins.”

“The old baths?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Do you have anything other than a map with which to prove this?”

He eyed her. “What are you, a solicitor?”

“You’re the one risking your neck. I’d like to believe that it’s not because of some hunch or other.”

“I see. You want to be certain I have a boat before you jump into the duck pond with me.”

“A boat
and
oars.”

“I’m not entirely certain what I have.”

“Phin—”

“You asked me to be truthful. Smythe’s drawing shows what looks like a fairly substantial road leading past the ruins, and several buildings adjoining them. Other than a handful of historians and landscape painters, I can’t think of anyone who would be interested in making the journey to see them. And that’s certainly not enough people to warrant a road, much less structures.”

“No one can build a road or anything else on Quence property without William’s permission.”

“They can if William doesn’t own Quence.”

“What?”

“Quence has never been entailed; it can be lost, or sold.”

Alyse shifted to rest her head on his good shoulder. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so…comfortable with a lover before. But then, he and Alyse had known one another for years. “You think the dogs and the flooded pasture and everything have been for the purpose of forcing William to sell the property? To whom?”

He took a breath. For someone who claimed not to wish to be involved, she’d begun asking a great many pertinent questions. But he’d said he would be forthright, and so he would. Even if she decided not to help him, knowing that she at least believed him would mean…everything. “If I were William and facing the loss of Quence, I would want to sell it to someone I trust, a fellow who’s already familiar with the workings of the property.”

“Richard, you mean.” She sat up, staring down at him.

“He did just tell you that he anticipates coming into a great deal of money. Having Quence would more than double his property in East Sussex.”

She thought about that for a moment. “It’s still a large step to go from thinking him helpful to a crippled neighbor to calling him a criminal.”

“In your opinion.” Unable to help himself, Phin reached over to cup her soft right breast. She half collapsed on top of him again.

“Stop that. This is serious.”

“I know that. And I know he wants Quence, by purchase or by inheritance. I would imagine that courting Beth is all part of his plan to ingratiate himself with William, as well. The only thing I can’t figure is how he would have planned to bypass me. Surely, whatever happened between us, William would deed Quence to me before he would give it over to Beth’s husband.”