Deception (8 page)

“What is your real name?”

“What does it matter?” She pulled away, but he held her tight. Of course, she could have made him release her, but the warm protection of his arms was too delightful to let go of so soon.

“It makes no difference, but I’m curious. I would also like to know where you come from and how you came by those interesting blades of yours.”

Her heart pounded in her ears.
Don’t tell him.
The warmth of his embrace and the intimacy of the moment blurred her resolve. If she pushed him away, she might never feel so comfortable again. “I was born Lilly Blunt, though I suspect my mother made that name up as it is a bit too grand for the likes of us. She was a seamstress in Suffolk.”

“That is very respectable. Why change your name?”

His arms tightened.

She pulled away from him. He released her, so she sat up and moved a few feet away. The fire warmed her, but a shiver still ran up her spine. The ghosts of her past haunted her still. Damn them.

“I do not know who my father was. If my mother knew, she never said.”

“I see. Is that why you made up a name and left home? Because you were illegitimate?”

“Dorian, why do you want to know all of this? It has no bearing on the task set before us. I have agreed to do the research to learn how to close the gates. What more do you want from me?”

The intensity of his gaze left her exposed beyond her near nudity. “I want to know you, Lilly, and it has nothing to do with demons or hunting or The Company.”

“Why?”

His lips formed a smile that made her heart beat even faster. “You know why.”

“What interest could a marquis have in the illegitimate daughter of a tradeswoman?”

“I do not care who your parents are, and my father gave up that title rather than lose his head to the guillotine.”

“My story is not that interesting. It might be told by a dozen other girls of my station.”

“How did you become a demon hunter?”

“My mother was killed by demons. I was angry and Reece found me.”

“Why where you not killed as well?”

“I was not living at home.”

“How old were you?”

“Seventeen.”

He sat up, crossed his legs, and watched her intently. “Tell me the whole story, Lilly.”

The old anger welled up from the pit of her stomach. “And if I do, will you tell me why you dislike being called marquis so much?”

“It is not a secret, Lilly. I will tell you anything you ask. Anything.”

The last word, and the way he watched her, made her want to ask him everything. “When I was fifteen I caught the eye of the local nobleman, an earl. He bought me from my mother for two crown.”

She expected to see disgust, but only anger flashed in his eyes. “He brought me to his manor, but of course his wife was not pleased, so he took me to a small holding on the far side of Sussex. I was not permitted to leave the property or see my mother. He kept me there for two years and used me at his will. Only Reece knows the rest.”

He held his body rigid, hands fisted, but he caressed her hand. “You can trust me, Lilly.”

She took a deep breath. “Every few weeks, a delivery of food and other goods came to the cottage. The young man who delivered it told me my mother had gone missing a few days before. Without thinking, I left the cottage and returned to my town to find my mother. She was gone and her house was in shambles. Someone had destroyed it trying to take her away.”

“Did the earl come for you?”

“He came. He beat me until I was unconscious, and during the thrashing told me he had sold my mother to men who threatened his land. He believed by selling an aging seamstress he could keep the blight from destroying his crops for the year.”

Dorian’s voice hummed in the intimacy of the dimming light. “What did you do?”

“I stabbed the man who had taken everything from me. I skewered him with his own blade, then stole his horse and rode until both the horse and I were close to death. Reece found me on the side of the road. He was heading to Scotland to train. He took care of me and convinced me to go with him to Scotland. I had stabbed an earl. Even if he survived, I was bound for prison or bedlam. Reece and The Company saved my life.”

“How do you know your mother was killed by demons?”

“Reece and I found her clothes, a shawl she always wore, near scorched ground. There had been a sacrifice. There were no bodies, but it is not likely my mother lived.”

“And the earl? Did he live?”

“He is dead now, but not by my hand. He ruined himself on absinth and fell off his horse a few years ago. Broke his neck.”

“Too good a death for him.”

He was right, but it didn’t matter anymore.

“Why did you join the demon hunters? They would not have turned you in to the authorities. You could have started a new life in Scotland, and no one would have known about your past.”

Another unwanted tear slid down her cheek. These memories had stopped making her cry years ago, so why was the telling so emotional? “I cannot say.”

She had expected him to shun her or find her origins disgusting. He was a noble like the man who had bought her for a few coins. Somehow, she could not compare the two men with any success. Dorian opened his arms, inviting her back into the circle of his embrace.

A stronger woman might have cursed him and slept in the cold grass. Weakness or not, she moved back to the blanket and allowed his arms to envelope her. They stretched out on their sides with her back pressed tight against his chest. “I joined The Company because I had nowhere to go, and Reece was the only person in the world who cared if I lived or died.”

“Thank you, Lilly.”

“For what?”

“The truth.”

“I thought you would hate me. You should hate me, Dorian.”

“It might go easier on us both if I could, but I am grateful for your trust, and my admiration for you is only increased by your story. I am curious about one thing.”

“Only one? What is it?”

“Why take a French surname?”

“My mother sometimes took me to London where she got temporary work with a dress maker. She was French and very elegant. She called me Lillian and told me I was beautiful. She was very kind to me and her name was Madam Dellacourt. Not even Reece knows that part of the story.”

His arms tightened, and his lips pressed against her temple. “Why did you not marry Foxjohn?”

“He asked. Whatever you may think of Reece, he is a gentleman. He asked me many times at the beginning.”

“And yet you did not become his wife.”

“No. I did not love him in that way, and he certainly was not in love with me. Within The Company, I did not need the protection of marriage. Eventually, he stopped asking.”

“I am quite glad you did not marry anyone.”

She turned in his arms. “Why is that?”

“Because I’m quite sure you would not be here with me if you were Mrs. Foxjohn, or Mrs. Anyone for that matter.” His full lips were only a sliver from hers.

Her breasts were flush to his chest with only her thin chemise and his fine linen shirt between them. “Most men of your station are not interested in a woman who is no longer pure.”

Her hair had dried in a tangled mess, but he threaded his fingers through and gentled the knots away. “Again, our definitions are different, Lilly. You are all that is good, and I will challenge anyone who claims otherwise.”

Her heart skipped faster. “That seems a bold statement. You hardly know me.” Their breath mingled, and her body tightened.

“I have known you from the time of those letters from my brother.”

“I do not know what to say.”

“I want you to understand something, Lilly. This is not an end of something.”

He was going to kiss her, and she might have agreed to anything to stop him from changing his mind. Whether or not she believed it was a different story. “All right.”

Ever so slowly, his mouth covered hers. His hand skimmed along her waist. Every touch sparked excitement that was new and different from any experience she’d ever had. She wanted to pull away even though it was what she longed for. She had come to the safety of the pond and its standing stones with seduction on her mind, yet it was he who had done the seducing.

Her desire was more than the need for release after a battle. She had fought hundreds of times without needing a man’s company afterward. She wanted Dorian, wanted to have all of him, yet the voice in her head screamed a warning.

Desire warred with Lillian’s need to be in control as his tongue pressed at the crease between her lips and begged entry. She touched her tongue to his, and it was as if her entire body caught on fire. Her lips danced with his, and she fought to stop what could only end horribly. She wrenched her mouth away. “Stop.”

The madness ceased and Dorian froze. He stared down at her, eyes filled with regret, which she had caused.

She pushed against his shoulders and moved out from under him. “I cannot give you what you want. It is insane to pretend that I can. I’m sorry.”

Lillian grabbed her dress. She stood and pulled the underdress on, then the rest. The heat of his body caressed her back, and his breath tickled her ear. He had not made a sound, yet his presence screamed volumes. Longing for his touch didn’t make it any safer to lead him on. She’d spoken the truth, and wishing for a different world didn’t make it so. Standing very still, she waited for the repercussions.

Anger or disappointment always followed such encounters even if carried out to their natural conclusion. She was not naïve. The soft caress of his fingers along her exposed neck and the most tender touch of his lips to her sensitive skin was the last thing she expected. “I am a very patient man, Lilly. I do not mean to rush you.”

Nothing good came of believing in the impossible. Her continued association with this strange man was messy and messy might get her killed, or worse, hurt. She stepped away and faced him. “I brought you here for only one purpose, my lord. If you could have left it at that, we would both be satisfied now. You should not have complicated matters.”

His expression remained calm, too calm. Stepping forward, he touched her cheek. “Life is complicated. Sex when one cares for the other person is complicated. You cannot change human nature.”

“I do not know what you are talking about.”

“I think you probably do, but as I said, I am a very patient man.” He smiled.

Indifference was the best answer to the Dorian problem, but the quiver of need between her legs didn’t want to comply with her determined mind. “We should get some sleep, then leave here as early as possible.”

He pulled on his trousers and lay back down.

Lillian found a spot in the grass several feet away from him. Her mind churned with the events both before they arrived at the pond and after. In spite of the constant assault of information, exhaustion won out and she slept.

Dorian stood looking down at her sleeping form. She was a riddle he couldn’t quite solve. The last embers of the dying fire illuminated her beauty, though even in sleep her expression remained serious.

It wasn’t easy, but he pulled away from her side and readied the horses as quietly as possible. The rustle of skirts alerted him, and he turned toward the fire.

“You’re up early.” Her voice held a sexy strained sound at the early hour.

His body ratcheted to attention. “You said you wanted to get an early start. I was awake and thought to give you a few extra minutes of rest.”

Brushing out her skirts and gathering her weapons, she kept her head down. “I appreciate that.”

The carriage secured, he approached with caution as she slid her blade into the clever sheath in her boot. “You never did tell me where you got those knives of yours.”

She snapped the second blade into place in her boot. “No I did not.”

“I do not want there to be awkwardness between us, Lilly. I’m not going to lie to you. Nothing has changed for me with regard to you.”

She stood up straight and finally looked at him. “I’m sorry about last night. I should not have done what I did. I should not have led you on. It is not something I generally do under any circumstances.”

Leaning in, he kissed her cheek. Her skin was soft as a dove’s feathers, and he loved the little catch in her throat at the contact. “You and I are going to be all right, Lilly.”

She took a step back, her expression serious. “Of course we are.”

Without another word, she walked past him and went to the small trunk at the back of the carriage. She retrieved a brush and ran it through her tangle mass of hair.

He remained torn between regret over the loss of intimacy and the joy of knowing he affected her. She might not want to admit her feelings, and perhaps she was afraid to explore them, but she certainly was not indifferent to him. He had seen her passion, and while she tried to make him think it was from the fight, he didn’t believe her. She’d just admitted as much.

He stepped away and took care of his personal needs. When he returned to the clearing, he admired the precision of her fingers in braiding her long hair. When she had a long plait formed, she wound it around the crown of her head and pinned it up in a severe bun.

Once they’d returned everything to the carriage, she walked away past the pond and into the trees.

Of course, he followed. A deer path ran through the thick brush, and she followed it as if she’d done so many times before. A smaller clearing opened up and the standing stones she spoken of came into view. They were smaller than the ones at Stonehenge. These were no taller than a man.

Lillian picked some wild flowers and stepped to the middle. Dried flowers rested on a flat rock. She brushed them away and placed the fresh ones in the center. Serenity softened her expression as she bowed her head.

He followed her back toward the pond. “Whom do you pray to at the stones?”

She shrugged and continued on the deer path. “It is only my way of thanking whoever protects us here. Maybe some druid god long forgotten by men. I do not know, but something protects this place.

They climbed up and Lillian took the reins. She slowed at the edge of the woods, and they looked in every direction to make certain no one saw them exiting the safety of the hiding place. No one in sight, they drove onto the high road.