My Wicked Little Lies (25 page)

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Authors: Victoria Alexander

BOOK: My Wicked Little Lies
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“But they are one and the same.”
“But she doesn’t know that.”
“And you helped him.”
“He is my friend. He has saved my life on more than one occasion. It seemed little enough repayment.” For a long moment Max didn’t say a word. “Besides, I wanted him back.”
“What do you—” The answer dawned on her and she sucked in a hard breath. “You never truly needed Evelyn at all, did you? You just brought her back to get her husband.”
“It was rather clever.”
“It was rather vile.”
“
Vile
is a harsh word.”
“And yet appropriate.” She huffed. “What happens now?”
“Now?” He shook his head. “Nothing, it’s over. Waterston is on his way to rescue his wife. And that’s the end of it.”
“She needs to know the truth.”
“Not from us,” he said firmly. “It’s between the two of them now and we should leave it to them.”
“Yes, we should.” And she firmly intended to do so until the moment she saw Evelyn. “Then you will not tell him I know his secret?”
“Oh, well, he should know that—”
“No.” Her tone hardened. “You tell him that I know the truth, and I swear by all that’s holy, you’ll regret it.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“I prefer to think of it as a promise.”
He considered her carefully. “But he is my friend.”
“And I am the woman you claim to love.” She paused. “The woman you wish to marry.”
“I see.” He thought for a moment. “Nonetheless it does seem to me that I owe greater allegiance to a man who has saved me in the past than to a woman who may or may not marry me.”
She gasped. “Oh, you are a wicked man.”
“But I am your wicked man or at least I want to be.”
Celeste thought for a moment. “And your allegiance to, oh, say a fiancée? Would that be greater than to a friend?”
“Without question.” He paused. “But only if said fiancée truly intended to marry me and was not just getting her way.”
She nodded slowly. “I can agree to that.”
“When?”
“When what?”
“When will you marry me?”
“I don’t know. Eventually.”
“Celeste.”
“Very well then. Sooner rather than later, I suppose.” She huffed. “This is not the place to be discussing the rest of our lives. Where are you taking me anyway?”
“We are going to my flat, where you will spend the entire night,” he said firmly. “I wish to celebrate with my fiancée.”
“But I should be home when Evelyn—”
“I suspect she will not return tonight either.”
“Well, then ... but your flat.” She wrinkled her nose. “I can think of far better places to celebrate. I’m not at all fond of it.”
“Nor am I. Tomorrow I shall look for a house.” He paused. “A large house, big enough for a wife and a dozen children.”
“I only have five.”
“For the moment.”
“Oh,” she said weakly. The idea of a dozen children was not particularly attractive. Still, the best days of her life had been spent in a family with eleven children. But seven, maybe even eight, children might be quite lovely. It was certainly a point of negotiation.
“Then we are agreed,” he said. “You will marry me and I will not tell Waterston you know he is Sir.”
She heaved a resigned sigh and noted she didn’t feel quite as resigned as she’d thought. She was in truth, a little, well, happy. “Agreed.”
“And you will keep his secret.”
“I said I agreed.”
“No doubt she will know the truth tonight at any rate.” He shook his head. “I don’t know how Waterston will pull off this rescue without telling her everything.”
“The truth is often best,” she said in a sage manner.
And Evelyn really did need to know the truth. One way or another, Celeste was determined she learn it. It would be nice if Lord W did indeed tell his wife everything. While she didn’t feel she had exactly lied to Max about her intentions, he might well feel differently. Still, she owed Evelyn a great deal and she deserved to know the truth.
Even if it destroyed them all.
 
 
Bloody hell. He’d forgotten how dark it was here. At least the nearly full moon cast a bit of light.
Adrian deftly slid the key into the lock on the warehouse door and slipped into the building. Where was that blasted lantern? It should be to one side ... He felt cautiously with his foot until it struck metal. He bent down and found a matchbox beside the lantern. Quickly, he lit the lantern, then headed toward the stairs for the cellar. It had been more than two years since he’d been in this building yet nothing had apparently changed. While it was used as well for legitimate storage, its true purpose had always been for whatever use the department had for it. It was a most convenient place to store anyone the department wanted out of sight for a while. Tonight, from what he could see, it was empty.
Under other circumstances, he would be more cautious, but these were not other circumstances; he knew exactly what to expect. What he didn’t know was exactly what he would say. Surely something brilliant would come to him. Or anything at all. It was time, past time really, to confess everything to her. But he would prefer to avoid doing so tonight. How did one tell one’s wife he had deceived her from the first moment they met? Or that he had tricked her tonight? Or that her being held in a cold, wet cellar was his fault?
He held the lantern up and made his way down the narrow stairs. They were bordered on one side by the outside wall and a second wall on the other side. Built years ago at the discretion of one department head or another, it provided both protection and a stealthy approach. “Evie?”
“Adrian?” Her muffled voice sounded from somewhere below him. “Adrian!”
“Where are you?”
“I have no idea. Follow my voice.”
He reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped into no more than an inch or so of water.
“I can’t see you. There’s a sack over my head.” She sounded more irritated than scared. Good.
“Keep talking.” He continued in her direction for a few steps more until her figure emerged from the shadows. She was tied to a wooden chair, a sack pulled down over her head to her waist.
“Thank God you found me.”
“I’m here.” He set the lantern down, grateful the water was too low to extinguish it, and began untying her wrists. “Just another minute. Are you hurt?”
“No, they were fairly careful. Of course, they dropped me once.” She squirmed. “Please hurry. This sack smells dreadful, there’s a disgusting gag that has slipped down my chin and my feet and my skirts are wet.”
“Hold still,” he said in a sharper manner than he’d intended. “I can’t get you untied if you continue to wiggle. These knots are difficult.”
“Do forgive my impatience,” she snapped. “I’ve been tied up here for ...” She thought for a moment. “Well, I have no idea how long. I hit my head when they dropped me and lost consciousness for a time. Not long, I think.”
Guilt stabbed him. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Fine, really, or I will be once you get me out of this. Is Davies hurt?”
“No, he was unharmed.”
“Good.” Relief sounded in her voice.
“There.” He pulled the rope from her wrists, then eased the sack up over her head.
She drew a deep breath, yanked the gag free and stared up at him. Her wig was askew, her face smudged, and there was a nasty bruise to one side of her forehead. “Oh, darling, there was a moment when I thought I might never see you again.”
“No possibility of that, Evie, ever.” He bent to untie her ankles. The rope was wet and the knots harder to work free.
“How on earth did you find me?”
He braced himself. “About that, I—”
She sucked in a hard breath. “You paid the ransom!”
“The ransom?” Of course. Relief washed through him. She had quite logically jumped to the conclusion she was being held for ransom.
“Good God, Adrian, how much was it?”
“No price is too high for you, my love.” He winced to himself. It wasn’t exactly a lie. If she had truly been abducted, he would have paid anything to get her back.
“Still, I do want to know what the current rate is for wives.”
“It’s not of any significance at all. There.” He pulled the ropes away from her feet, then straightened and grabbed her hands. “Do you think you can stand?”
“Certainly. I haven’t been here that long. At least I don’t think I have. To be honest, I have completely lost track of time.”
He pulled her to her feet, and she threw her arms around him and buried her face in his neck. “Oh, darling, you have saved me. Without any hesitation or concern for your own safety. Those thugs could still be here. This could have been a trap for you. The Earl of Waterston is worth far more than his wife.”
“Never. You are priceless to me. You are my wife.” He held her tightly. “My love.”
She raised her head. “Then take me out of here.”
“Excellent idea.” He picked up the lantern with one hand and kept his other arm around her. “I have a carriage waiting.”
Her wide skirts were weighted down by the water, and it took longer than he would have liked to leave the warehouse. Even though he knew she—they—were in no danger, he had a distinct feeling of dread. A feeling he hadn’t had in years and one impossible to ignore. Surely it was due to nothing more than having a taste once again of a world of intrigue he had long left behind. Still, he refused to let his guard down until they were safely in the carriage and very nearly home.
“Adrian.” She snuggled against him and he tightened his arm around her. “I think you were extraordinarily brave tonight.”
Again guilt pricked at his conscience. “I only did what was necessary.”
“I have always known you would do anything for me, but I have never considered you an adventurous sort. Not the kind of man who charges into danger. That you did so, for me ...” Her voice caught. “You saved my life.”
“I would have no life without you.”
For a long moment she didn’t say a word. Then she sighed. “There are things I need to tell you. Things you should know.”
He stared down at her. “Do you love me?”
“With all my heart.”
“Then that’s all I need.”
“I want to go home.” She reached up and kissed the side of his neck. “To our home, our bed.”
“Yet another excellent idea. But I should warn you.” He smiled. “Regardless of refurbishing in the future, I do not intend to allow you to ever leave again.”
She laughed. “You will not allow me?”
“No. Even if it means a certain amount of pleading and”—he winced—“groveling, there will be no more leaving.”
“Yes, my lord,” she said in an obedient manner that didn’t fool him for a minute. “I do still want to know my price.”
“And as I said, you are priceless.”
“And so, my dear husband, are you.” She reached up and pressed her lips to his, and desire at once welled within him. But then it always had, always would, with her.
He was under no illusions that their life would be perfect from this point forward. Neither of them was perfect after all. And certainly at some point, he would have to tell her he was Sir, but not tonight.
Tonight, the love of his life had confirmed in no uncertain terms that he was the love of hers. The world, the future, had never looked brighter.
Chapter 21
I
t would have been most awkward to tear Adrian’s clothes off the moment they stepped into the house. Evelyn wanted—no—needed to reaffirm life and love. Besides, she had missed him more than she could say. But the servants would surely notice. Although tonight they might well have forgiven such an overt display of affection. The relief on the faces of the staff was evident when they arrived.
They were all most solicitous and obviously pleased to see her alive and well, if somewhat disheveled. Her maid accompanied her to her room, and while she helped Evelyn out of her ruined gown, another ran a bath. As much as she would have loved to soak for hours, she had no intention of lingering. Quickly she washed the scent of dank cellar and docks away and pondered the odd evening. At long last she had met Sir. She had put into words how very much her husband meant to her, and she had been abducted by thugs who obviously knew what they were doing. She was, in addition, rather proud of herself for keeping panic and fear at bay. There had been moments when it hadn’t been easy.
Her kidnappers had been most efficient, and if the one carrying her hadn’t tripped, she would have been completely unharmed. They had obviously contacted Adrian without the least hesitation, possibly even before she had been left in the cellar. There was no doubt in her mind: they were fast, they were organized, and it was clear they had done this before. If she had been inclined to admire nefarious acts, her kidnappers would have won her admiration. The only thing that could have gone wrong would have been for Adrian not to pay the ransom. She might well have been selected in the first place because it was assumed Lord Waterston would pay without question, as, of course, he had. She wondered if she had other acquaintances who had been in this position. If so, it was something the department might well want to look into. She still wanted to know what she had cost her husband, but he would tell her eventually.
Her maid helped her into her pale blue dressing gown, Adrian’s favorite, then Evelyn dismissed her for the night with her gratitude. It was nice to have people who cared for you. She’d been more than a little touched by the concern of the entire staff. And more than a little impressed with her husband.
She’d never thought her husband was weak in any way, but she’d also never imagined he was the type of man to plunge headfirst into danger. Before tonight, if asked, she would have said he’d give due amount of consideration to all the eventualities and, perhaps, would orchestrate her rescue rather than leaping into it himself. It was a side of him she’d never seen, never truly imagined. She couldn’t have Sir and, in truth, didn’t want him, but it struck her now that, when called upon, Adrian might well have a touch of Sir in him. It was most exciting.
Evelyn tightened her wrapper, stepped through the dressing room connecting her room to Adrian’s, and pushed open his door. He had taken off his blue coat and his shoes and was in the process of untying his complicated cravat. She walked over to him and pushed his hands away. “Allow me.”
He grinned. “With pleasure.”
“Did I tell you how dashing you looked in your costume?” She kept her gaze on the cravat. It was as tricky to untie as her ropes had apparently been. “I felt as if I was being rescued by a hero from another century. Or perhaps someone less noble who would carry me off and have his way with me.”
He chuckled. “Casanova perhaps?”
“Definitely Casanova.” The cravat loosened. “Although I don’t believe he ever married.” She pulled it free. “And I think he said something about marriage being the tomb of love. Or the death of love. I can’t recall.”
“Then he was a fool. Marriage, to the right woman, is the beginning of a life of love.”
She raised a brow. “My, you are romantic tonight.”
“Casanova would be envious.” He pulled her into his arms. “If he had seen you tonight, he might well have changed his mind about marriage. And considered me a very lucky man.”
“Then we are well matched.” She gazed up at him. “For I am a very lucky woman.” She paused. “Although I have been remiss in not making certain you know how very much I love you.”
“I have been remiss in that myself.” A shadow darkened his eyes. “If anything had happened to you ...”
“But nothing did, thanks to you.” She smiled into his blue eyes. “You are my hero, Adrian Hadley-Attwater.” She slid her hand around the back of his neck and pulled his head down to hers. “My knight,” she murmured against his lips. And then his lips claimed hers and passion erupted between them.
Desire gripped her, gripped them. They tore at his clothes and he was soon naked. He yanked free the tie of her dressing gown and it fell open to reveal her as naked as he. He cupped one breast in his hand and kissed and sucked until she trembled and clung to him. He shifted his attention to her other breast and she moaned at the sensations surging through her. Slowly he sank to his knees in front of her, his mouth trailing a path of fire from between her breasts and lower, down her stomach, and lower still. Until he parted her legs, his hands running up the insides of her thighs. Her breath caught in anticipation. Dear Lord, what the man did to her. What he made her feel.
He spread her legs and caressed her. She moaned softly with his touch. Her dressing gown slid off her shoulders to her elbows. She was already slick with need and wanting him. His fingers slid over her and exquisite sensation washed up from his touch. Her breath quickened. He opened her with his fingers, then leaned closer and blew softly. She shivered and waited. Her eyes closed, her head dropped back, and she gripped his shoulders.
The first flick of his tongue brought a gasp of delight from her. There was a great deal to be said for marrying a man of experience. A man who knew the most sensitive parts of a woman and knew precisely what to do with them. How to pleasure a woman until she thought she would surely not survive such delight. His tongue caressed her, and her hands tightened on his shoulders. He teased and tasted and sucked at her until her hips rocked toward him of their own accord. She ached and wanted and yearned. Blood pulsed in her veins and she wondered if he could feel her throb against his mouth.
“Oh, God, Adrian ...”
She raised her head, opened her eyes, and stared down at his dark head between her legs. It wasn’t the least bit proper; indeed, it was no doubt a great sin. But, oh, what a heavenly sin. If eternal damnation was the price for this, it was well worth it.
Her muscles tightened. Her world narrowed. She existed only in the feeling of his mouth, his tongue, his teeth. Tension coiled within her. He had brought her to release with his mouth before, but tonight she wanted to pleasure him as much as he did her.
“Adrian,” she whispered and reluctantly pushed him away. He glanced up, his eyes dark with passion, his lips glazed with her. “Come to bed.”
“Now?” He raised a brow.
Laughter bubbled through her. She moved to the bed and let her dressing gown slither to the floor behind her. She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Yes, darling, now.”
He rose to his feet, and her gaze wandered over him. She’d never been particularly enamored with the naked male form, unless it was carved from marble. But from the first time she had seen her husband
sans
clothing, she’d been most impressed. With his broad shoulders, hard-muscled chest, and flat stomach tapering to narrow hips, he could have easily modeled for any marble statue. Her gaze slipped to his cock. She swallowed. That, too, was most impressive.
He laughed and heat rushed up her face.
“I like that I can still make you blush.” He stepped to her, nuzzled the side of her neck, then tumbled onto the bed and pulled her down with him.
“Don’t be absurd.” She scoffed. “I do not blush.”
“It looked like a blush.”
“Don’t be so arrogant, darling.” She shifted away from him, then threw one leg over his and straddled him, her knees on either side of his hips, his cock nestled behind her. “I was flushed, not blushing. It’s an entirely different thing.”
“Is it?”
“You sound skeptical.” She wiggled her derrière against his cock and he gasped. “I don’t think women who blush do this.” She leaned forward and circled his left nipple with her tongue, then nipped at it gently. He shuddered beneath her. She smiled with satisfaction and moved her attention to his right nipple, holding it with her teeth and flicking her tongue over it. He groaned and she sucked hard at the tiny nub.
“Evie ...”
She straightened and smiled wickedly down at him. “Well?”
His smile matched hers. “You were blushing.”
She shook her head regretfully. “Stubborn beast.”
She lowered herself forward to lie on top of him, hooking her legs around his, his cock hard between her legs. At once, his arms wrapped around her and he met her mouth with his. Their tongues dueled and tangled, hungry and eager, urged to devour one another by passion and need.
She pulled away and slid slowly down his body, trailing kisses and tiny bites, feeling his erection pressing against her. Against her stomach, between her breasts, until it sprang free, begging for her touch. She settled between his legs and stroked him in a teasing manner until he moaned and fisted his hands in the sheets.
“Do I blush?”
He could barely hiss out the word. “Yes.”
She propped herself up on one elbow and slowly licked the head of his cock. He shuddered. She drew him into her mouth and sucked, raking her teeth lightly over the underside, reveling in the taste of him. The feel of him in her mouth. The sheer power of knowing she could do to him what he did to her. The throbbing ache between her legs increased.
“God, Evie, oh God ...” He writhed beneath her. “I can’t ...”
She raised her head and gazed up into his passion-glazed eyes. “Yes?”
He gasped. “You don’t blush.”
She flicked her tongue over the top of his cock. “Are you sure?”
“Lady Waterston, you try my patience.” Faster than she would have thought possible, he sat up, pulled her into his arms, and abruptly, she was no longer on top. He grinned, positioned himself between her legs, and rubbed his cock against her until she whimpered and arched upward, reaching for him.
He eased himself into her with a measured deliberation he knew drove her mad. In the back of her mind, she was grateful Sir had asked if she’d married Adrian for his money and not for this. It wouldn’t be the least bit proper to admit such a thing and she did so hate to lie. He slid deeper and she dug her heels in the back of his knees and urged him on until he filled her.
He thrust into her again and again, and her hips rolled against him, meeting him, welcoming him. They moved together in a rhythm at once familiar and exciting. A dance they had perfected together to his satisfaction and hers. She lost herself in the hot, hard feel of him inside her. In delicious sensation and unrestrained pleasure. In growing need and tension, winding tighter and tighter. His thrusts grew harder, faster. Her hips moved in tandem with his. She was no longer a being of substance but a creature of raw emotion, demanding and insistent and wanting all he had.
She clutched at his shoulders and he strained against her. Until at last he thrust hard and shuddered and groaned in that way he had, claiming her, possessing her. Her muscles tightened around him and then she, too, plummeted over the edge with wave after wave of ecstasy crashing through her, over her, engulfing her. She arched upward and her body shook against his and she clung to him. And slowly the bliss of her release faded, leaving a lingering sense of well-being and satisfaction and joy.
He lifted his head and smiled down at her. “Welcome home, wife.”
She laughed weakly. “It’s good to be home, husband.”
“And this”—he kissed her nose—“is where I intend to keep you.”
“In your bed?”
“I was thinking my house, but that is an excellent idea.” He shifted and rolled to his side, then propped himself up on his elbow and studied her. “A truly excellent idea.”
She laughed. This—he—was home and it was perfect. He was hers and she was his, and she would never let him question her love again.
“I shall send for my things in the morning.”
“What an excellent idea.” He grinned. “But what of your refurbishing? I thought you wanted to live there to oversee it.”
“You did not.”
He chuckled. “Not for a moment.”
“The house is no more than a fifteen-minute walk from here. I can be there in no time at all, really, to check on the work. I might need to reconsider exactly what I intend to do there. Celeste is fond of it as it is. Besides ...” She paused. “You obviously paid a great deal last night for my safety, and frankly, I feel a bit guilty undertaking huge refurbishing costs at the moment. Also there is a new wardrobe I may have failed to mention.”
He laughed. “You are not to blame for anything that occurred last night. Spend whatever you wish,” he said magnanimously.
“My goodness, Adrian.” She studied him curiously. “You have never been miserly but this is overly generous. Whatever has come over you?”

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