Lost to the Night (The Brotherhood Series, Book 1) (14 page)

“What if she said yes and you stumble upon a lovers tryst?”

Anger sprang forth, roused from its dark, dank lair. “Damn you,” Alexander whispered through gritted teeth resisting the urge to throttle someone, anyone. “Miss Bromwell will not accept him. Something is wrong. I sense it.”

Without another word, he turned on his heels and marched away, pushing through the crowd until he reached the terrace. One quick scan of the empty lawn confirmed his fear. Miss Bromwell must be in a secluded area of the garden.

Had she gone of her own volition?

Or did Sutherby have more sinister intentions in mind?

Chapter 14

Alexander charged out into the night, his mind too chaotic to pick up any lingering trace of Evelyn’s emotional imprint.

“Damnation,” Elliot shouted, skidding across the grass behind him. “Wait for me.”

“I don’t need you to come.”

“You’re in the mind for murder,” Elliot said keeping up with Alexander’s long strides. “Someone needs to be in control if we are to protect the secret of the brotherhood.”

“I don’t give a damn about the bloody brotherhood. If Sutherby hurts her in any —”

Alexander.

The word wrenched at his heart.

The silent plea forced him to come to an abrupt halt and survey his surroundings. There was no sign of anyone in the garden, but he felt a tug deep in his core drawing him to the tall hedge. The dark pathway beyond beckoned him to enter.

Elliot stopped at his side. “I heard it, too. It came from inside that topiary tunnel.”

As soon as Alexander crossed the entrance, fear enveloped him like a curtain of cobwebs, clinging to his chest and shoulders, his body jerking back in response.

“They’re definitely in here,” Elliot said, “I can hear voices, someone struggling.”

Alexander gulped a breath as he raced along the narrow walkway. The path branched both left and right. Instinctively, he felt compelled to take the route to the left.

“Get the hell off me! What’s wrong with you?”

Evelyn’s desperate curse ignited the anger simmering in his belly.

“Come now. You’ve been playing games with me for weeks,” Sutherby said.

Elliot gripped Alexander’s shoulder. “Don’t do anything foolish,” he whispered as they spotted Sutherby pinning Evelyn against the hedge.

“Get your bloody hands off her,” Alexander roared, tearing along the path.

As though chastising a disobedient pup, he grabbed Sutherby by the collar of his coat, thrust him high in the air before throwing him to the ground. With legs and arms flailing, Sutherby covered his head with his hands as Alexander yanked him back to his feet.

“Wait. Don’t hit me. It’s not what it seems. We are betrothed.”

Alexander froze, his clenched fist suspended in midair as his chest felt empty and hollow.

“We are not betrothed,” Evelyn said rushing to his side. “I’ve made it clear I do not want to marry him, but he will not accept it.”

“But your aunt has already approved the match,” Sutherby said. “She said you were in agreement.”

“Then she misled you.”

“But you said you had dreams of a grand passion and a blissful union.”

“I was not talking about you.”

Elliot gave a discreet cough.

“You mean you’re talking about him?” Sutherby’s gaze shot to Alexander, his twisted face showing his disdain. “Why, I should call the gentleman out for stealing another man’s betrothed.”

Evelyn gave an exasperated sigh. “How many times must I say it? We are not betrothed, Mr. Sutherby.”

“Call me out?” Alexander echoed gripping Sutherby by the lapels of his coat. “I could just save myself the bother.” His teeth began to ache, and he flexed his jaw. The dull throbbing would escalate until he’d pierced skin and drawn blood. “I could just throttle the life out of you here and now.”

Elliot muttered a curse. “It is just a simple misunderstanding,” he said, his tone revealing an element of panic. He placed his hand on Alexander’s arm, the grip firm, unyielding. “Let me escort Mr. Sutherby back to the ballroom. He’ll not trouble anyone again, and I’m sure Miss Bromwell does not wish to see such a violent display.”

Alexander glanced to his right; Evelyn’s eyes were wide, a little fearful.

“If you want to live to see dawn,” Alexander said releasing Sutherby, “I suggest you go with Lord Markham.”

“Then I’m taking Miss Bromwell with me,” Sutherby blurted as he craned his neck and straightened his coat.

A growl resonated from the back of Alexander’s throat. “Miss Bromwell is staying with me.”

“I don’t th-think that’s for you to decide,” Sutherby stuttered.

Elliot stepped in front of Alexander and took Mr. Sutherby’s arm. “I think you want to come with me. I think you want to return to the ballroom. We will return now.”

Mr. Sutherby’s eyes glazed over and without another word he complied with Markham’s request. As he stepped past Alexander, he said, “I think I should return to the ballroom, but it is not the end of the matter. I will not relinquish my claim so easily.”

“Your claim?” Evelyn cried. “I am no man’s property, sir, and you’ll do well to remember it.”

Alexander could feel his anger rising again.

“Not here,” Elliot whispered leaning closer. “Not now. I fear the gentleman may make a scene to force the lady’s hand. You must see Miss Bromwell home, and I will speak to her aunt. I’m convinced she’ll be happy to know you were here to intervene. Call on me later, as there is something we need to discuss.” He nodded his head to indicate he was referring to Mr. Sutherby.

“Very well. I shall call as soon as I’ve seen Miss Bromwell safely to her door.”

Alexander watched them walk away, aware that Evelyn hovered at his shoulder.

They were alone once again, and his body responded instantly. In his mind, he imagined pushing her up against the hedge, devouring her mouth, thrusting inside her sweet core as she wrapped her legs around him. The need to have her felt like a loud drum beating through his veins, the tempo increasing with every breath.

“I called you, and you came,” she said placing her hand on his arm. “How did you know where to find me?”

He could not turn to face her. He would not behave like a scoundrel and force himself on her as Sutherby had done.

“Lord Markham noticed you’d not returned to the ballroom. It was the only logical place to look,” he said, covering her hand and moving it to the crook of his arm. “Let me escort you home.”

“Are you angry with me?”

“No.”

“Tell me you don’t believe what Mr. Sutherby said. It’s utter nonsense. I have never agreed to a betrothal. I would never have kissed you had there been a prior arrangement.”

“I know.”

Why did she have to mention kissing? He was struggling to partake in even the simplest conversation.

They strode across the grass and out through the gate leading to the mews.

“It’s best we don’t go back to get your cape. Will you be warm enough if we walk?”

“What in these slippers? Can’t we just hail a hackney?”

He glanced down at her feet and shook his head. “I never ride in a closed carriage. I never ride in any form of carriage. Where do you live?”

“Duke Street. But we can access the garden from Great Ryder Street. It will be more discreet. I can show you the way. It’s not far.”

“I know the way, but I’ll take a detour along the quieter streets. Would you like my coat?”

“No, thank you. I’m perfectly fine. It’s quite warm tonight.”

They walked along in silence, the air about them still buzzing with restrained desire. It felt uncomfortable. The muscles in his shoulders were stiff, tense. His heartbeat was so erratic he could feel it pumping in his throat.

“We must hurry,” he said quickening his pace, the need to protect her his only concern.

“Why don’t you ride in a carriage?” she asked, sounding a little breathless. Her fingers flexed over the muscle in his arm, sending a pulse of energy shooting down to his groin. “I assume an earl would have more than one.”

The question threw him off kilter. What the hell was he supposed to say? Stepping into the carriage in Bavaria was akin to stepping through the gateway to Hell.

“I experienced a rather horrendous event in a carriage. I prefer to avoid them for fear of being hounded by the memory.”

Her fingers dug into his arm. “Was it the accident you had a few years ago? Is it why people assumed you were disfigured?”

Fragments of distorted images flashed into his mind. “Do you mind if we talk about something else?”

He could feel her gaze searching his face, drifting down over his chest. “Why did you come to the ball tonight?”

Damnation. Why did she persist in asking awkward questions?

“You forgot your gloves. You threw them on the floor in the orangery, and I thought you might be in need of them.”

She laughed, the sound soft and enchanting. “Why must you always skirt around the truth? Are you afraid to be honest with me?”

He turned to meet her gaze, his stomach lurching at the sight of her bright eyes and warm smile. “What do you want me to say? Do you want me to tell you that all I can think about is kissing you? That I dream of covering your body with mine. That just being near you heals my damaged soul.”

“Yes,” she said softly. “Tell me what is in your heart, Alexander. I want to know everything.”

Everything? How could he tell her his darkest secret, his worst nightmare? She would never look at him in the same way again. Those pretty blue eyes would lose their lustrous quality, a black cloud of fear and loathing obscuring their brilliance.

“Is it not enough to know that I want you?”

“It’s enough for now.”

Her words sent a frisson of fear through him which he tried to dismiss.

They turned into the mews off Great Ryder, the privacy giving him the opportunity to pull her arm tighter through his.

“It is this door,” she said pointing to the wooden gate in the middle of a long brick wall.

He walked her to the entrance. “Will a servant be waiting to let you in?”

“If not, I can always break a window,” she said coming to stand in front of him. Her eyes stared longingly into his, asking him to kiss her, begging him to.

“That reminds me, you still need to pay for the damage to my window.”

“Pay?” she said with a giggle. “What choice did I have? You refused to let me in.”

I can’t let you in now, he thought. Not if it means facing rejection. He brought her fingers to his mouth and brushed his lips across them. “I shall wait here until you’ve closed the door, until I know you’re safely inside. Good night, Miss Bromwell.”

She swallowed deeply, and her bottom lip quivered. “Will … will I see you again?”

“I don’t know.”

“What are you scared of?”

“Only of hurting you,” he said before stepping past her and opening the gate. He already knew how to live with disappointment and pain. “Please, go inside. You must go inside.”

She moved through the doorway and turned to face him, hugging the edge of the gate as though it brought comfort.

“You must close the door,” he said knowing she had no choice but to obey.

When he heard the latch click, he took a deep breath. His body shook with need, his heart ached, his cock throbbed. He could still sense her standing on the other side of the door. Yet the tumultuous nature of her emotions made it more difficult to access her mood.

Heart-wrenching pain hit him first, with such force that he sucked in a breath. He could feel the pulse of desire too, mingled with a soul-deep yearning that cried out to him.

Bloody hell.

He had to walk away. He had to leave her. But his feet were rooted firmly to the ground. Letting his head fall back, he stared up into the darkness. But he knew he wouldn’t find the strength or the courage he needed there.

I love you, Alexander.

The words exploded in his chest like the brightest firework, bursting through him in a mass of warm, wondrous rays.

He’d begun the night wanting to believe there was hope, yet he’d closed the door to it at every opportunity. Convinced himself it was all in vain. Acceptance was all he wanted. And love … to love and feel loved in return.

With a burst of optimism, he turned on his heels and moved towards the door.

He would tell her about his past; he would tell her everything.

Chapter 15

It felt as though her heart was breaking. She had known Alexander Cole for a short time, barely knew the man he kept hidden inside. Yet she loved him with every ounce of her being.

How was it possible?

From the moment she’d closed the gate, the feeling of loss was unbearable and she’d not been able to stop the tears from forming. Perhaps she’d lived many lives with him before, each new birth erasing her memory of the last. Somewhere, the essence of the man must still be buried deep in her consciousness, reminding her that she had always known him, always loved him.