The Wicked One (4 page)

Demanding
Eva
.

He summoned Phelps and silently allowed the valet to ready him for bed.  Then he deadened the agony in his leg with another shot of brandy, slid beneath the cool, crisp sheets, and lay there in the darkness, thinking . . .

Of red hair and slanting green eyes . . . of breasts crowned with coral nipples . . . of seductively flaring hips . . . of skin as white as a virgin's virtue.  Sleep would not come early if at all tonight, but given the nightmares that awaited him there, he was in no hurry to embrace it.

He stared up into the darkness.

I will have you — you may depend upon it.

Chapter 3

"I don't
know
who the intruder was.  Lucien refuses to discuss it," said Nerissa, sidling closer to her beau, Earl Brookhampton, as he expertly steered the horse and phaeton around a chalky puddle of mud glazed with ice late the following morning.  Low, scudding clouds were roiling up and over the downs and she could see her breath in the damp air.  She was glad she was wrapped in wool and ermine and a hot brick toasted her feet, for it felt cold enough to snow and probably would, by nightfall.  "The only thing they found was the intruder's boots, and the rope by which he scaled the tower wall.  Why, I've never seen Lucien in such a cold rage!"

"Fellow must've had a jolly good store of courage to even attempt such a thing," said Perry, looking up at the darkening sky.  "'Tis dangerous enough to scale the tower, but to confront Lucien —
Lucien
, of all people! — as well?  That intruder must have had a death wish!"

"He'll wish he
was
dead when Lucien finally catches up to him!  Especially since that troublesome aphrodisiac that Andrew invented was destroyed in the attempt.  Lucien is furious!"

Nerissa rested her head against Perry's shoulder.  The dampness had brought curl to his tousled blond hair.  The wind had bitten into his cheeks, his eyes were as cool and gray as the sky above, and he had never looked more handsome.  She sighed.  Oh, how, how she wished they were already wed, how she wished she could experience the delights of the marriage bed under the tutelage of his warm and capable hands!  She let her heart's wish show in her eyes, and in the next moment he leaned close, cupped her jaw with his fingers, and pulled her head close to his.  She closed her eyes, welcoming the familiar taste and touch of his tongue against her own, the feel of his lips, hard where hers were soft, demanding where hers were pliant.

But the horse was still moving.

The kiss could not last.

A bump in the road broke it, and reluctantly, they both pulled away, Nerissa passing her tongue over her lips as though to seal in the warmth of Perry's kiss.

He redirected his attention to the road.  "If only Lucien hadn't meddled in the first place, the aphrodisiac would still be safe."

"Yes, well, we all know that Lucien will meddle as long as there is air to breathe.  I suppose it's all just as well, though.  That potion was far too dangerous.  I mean, look how much trouble it got Andrew and Celsie into!"

"I'll say it did."  Perry glanced overhead at the incoming clouds, reached into his pocket, and extracted two sweets, giving one to Nerissa and popping the other into his own mouth.  "Poor Andrew would still be a free man if it weren't for that blasted stuff."

"Uh, Perry, I think there's something you should know."

He turned and raised a brow.

"Lucien is growing impatient with us.  He's threatening to take matters into his own hands if we do not set a date, soon."

Perry's face drained of color, and he nearly choked on the sweet.  Nerissa pounded him across the back, and turning his head, he spat the candy out onto the muddy ground.

"Bloody hell," he swore.

"Perhaps we should just set a date so he can't manipulate us like he did my brothers . . .  Wouldn't it be wonderful if I were the only one in my family he
couldn't
force into marriage?"

Though her tone was light, cajoling, Perry felt as though someone had just iced his spine.  It wasn't that he didn't adore Nerissa, whom he had known since childhood; it wasn't that he didn't want to marry her.

He just didn't to marry her
now
.

He was only midway through his second decade; there were too many adventures to be had, too many seeds to be sown, for him to think about settling down and marrying!  And now Lucien, that master manipulator, that Machiavellian monster who had controlled so many other lives, was eyeing him and Nerissa as his next victims? 
Oh, God and the devil, help us!

He stared straight ahead as he turned the horse toward Blackheath Castle, unable to look into her eyes, so blue, so eager, so hopeful.  "I, uh, don't think we should act just yet," he said lamely.  "There is nothing your brother can do to force our hands.  Besides, I — well, I'm not yet ready to settle down . . .  I'm not ready for the demands of being a husband, being a father . . ."

"Don't you love me?" she asked playfully.

"Of course I love you, Nerissa."  He leaned over and kissed her even as he flicked the reins to get the horse to go faster; this was a conversation he was
not
inclined to have, and the sooner he got her home, the better.  "But I'm young.  You're young.  Marriage is a lifelong commitment and shouldn't be something two people rush into."

"Young?  I'm nearly twenty, you're halfway to thirty, and you've been giving me the same answer for the last two years."  She lifted her chin and stared off over the downs, watching a flock of sheep grazing in the distance.  "Why, a woman could get tired waiting for you to have your fun, Perry.  A woman could decide that she, too, needs some
fun
, and start seeking it elsewhere."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

Her smile was distant.  "Exactly what you think it means."

Suddenly irritated, he pulled the phaeton up sharply before the castle's main entrance.  What was it with women, always pestering, always nagging, never happy until they had a ring on their finger?  Wasn't a promise good enough?

"Listen, Nerissa, if you simply want to show off a ring for your friends, I'll go to London and buy you —"

"Perry, you don't understand.  I don't want jewelry.  I want
you
."

"But Nerissa, I —"

She looked down, pretending an interest in her fur muff.  "No, no, I shall not nag you, you've made it clear as crystal what your priorities are."

"Dearest, you're just eager to get married because you've seen three of your four brothers wed, and you're feeling left out."  Her face hardened, and he heard his tone grow desperate.  "It's not that I don't love you, Nissa, I just need time to . . . well, to have my adventures before I settle down to a life of — of, well, boring domesticity . . .  Oh, hell —"

She stiffened, looking straight ahead with a bleak expression in her eyes.  A footman approached and took the horse's head.  Perry, cursing under his breath, jumped to the ground, reached up, and helped Nerissa from the phaeton.  She merely slew him with a hurt look, pulled her gloved hand from his, and strode angrily toward the castle.

"Nerissa!  At least let me see you safely indoors!"

She paused only long enough to toss over her shoulder, "Good day, Perry.  Come back when you've had your fill of
adventure
."

She swept inside, leaving him gritting his teeth in frustration.

Women!

Neither of them noticed the slight movement of the drapes at the library window.

~~~~

"More candles, Puddyford," murmured the Duke of Blackheath, as he stood at the window watching Nerissa's and Perry's return with a deceptively absent stare.  "It grows dark in here."

"Yes, Your Grace."  Obediently, the servant lit more tapers, casting a quick glance at his silent, preoccupied master before hurrying out past Sir Roger Fox, Esquire, who sat near the hearth contemplating a glass of port.

Fox waited until the servant had gone, then looked up at the duke, whose broad back was silhouetted by the gray light coming in from the window.  "So," he said, "you want me to have our Parisian contact abandon his surveillance of the French court and concentrate on watching the activities of this" — he smiled —"woman, instead?"

"It is of more importance to me at the moment."

"Yes, but is it of more importance to Britain?  As we all know, the only reason the Americans are even
in
Paris is to stir up trouble, to try and bring French strength in on their side of this confounded war.  We must remain one step ahead of them, otherwise we'll find ourselves fighting the damned Frogs as well as the Yankees."

The duke did not turn from the window.  "This woman is dangerous, at the forefront of the Americans' activities, and I will continue to thwart her efforts as long as I draw breath."

The duke let the drapes fall shut and returned to the fire, a look on his face of smug triumph.

"What is it?" Fox asked, frowning.

"Perry has just brought Nerissa home, and all appears to be exactly as I suspected it would be."

"Meaning?"

"Oh, just the predictable argument between my two little birds of paradise," Lucien drawled, reclaiming his chair and pouring himself a glass of port.  A slamming door heralded Nerissa's entrance, and both men heard the spray of gravel outside as Perry sent the phaeton thundering away from the castle at what sounded like a suicidal pace.  "So, my dear Fox.  Did you carry my letter to Lord Islington in London?"

"Yes, and I negotiated the sale of his Spanish estate to a certain Don Eduardo Mendoza, too — though I must confess, the whole business fills me with trepidation, Lucien.  I can't imagine what you'll do with a Spanish estate, nor why you feel the need to invent a false identity under which to buy it."

Lucien was gazing into his glass, smiling.  "Ah, but that Spanish estate will suit my needs nicely, I think.  I really did have to do something about my sister's hopeless . . .
situation
."

"Some diabolical plan up your sleeve to get your last sibling married, then?"

"It is for her own good."

"For the love of God, Lucien, one of these days you'll go too far and your scheming machinations will come back to haunt you."

"Oh, but I think not," the duke murmured.  "After all, my dear Fox — I have a perfect record."

~~~~

A week later, Lucien was at his correspondence when Nerissa burst in.

"Lucien!"

He turned, quickly schooling his face into bland inquiry, brotherly concern, banishing his triumph to a place where she would never find it.  His sister was as distraught as ever he'd seen her.  "You must do something!" she cried.  "Perry's off to Spain —
Spain
, of all places — and I'm afraid he'll never come back after the way I treated him!"

Lucien felt a savage stab of delight.  So, his instructions had been followed to the letter, then . . .  Good.

"My dear girl," he said, putting an arm around her shoulders and drawing her nearer the fire.  "Sit, and take a glass of Madeira with me while you tell me exactly what happened."

Nerissa was too upset to sit, though she hastily accepted the glass her brother offered her and downed it with an ease that brought a frown to his deceptively mild countenance.  She began to pace, blinking back tears of anger and frustration.

"He got a letter yesterday, from a Don somebody-or-other in Spain . . . a solicitor for the estate of some client who died intestate.  Well, this client had no heirs, and his closest living relative turned out to be Perry, of all people!  I never knew that Perry had relatives in Spain!  What other secrets does he harbor, what other surprises does he have in store for me?  And now this Spaniard wants him to come at once to inspect the land and house, and determine what is to be done with it.  Oh, Lucien, what am I to do?"

"Do?"  Lucien smiled cajolingly.  "Really, my dear, is a short trip to Spain any great catastrophe?  You are upsetting yourself for nothing.  Why, think of the benefits of having holdings in such a place.  Once you and Perry are married, you can pass your winters there instead of here in cold, wet, England."

"How do I know he'll even want to come back to England?  With me nagging him about marriage, and that harridan of a mother who won't leave him alone, coming back is the last thing he'll want to do!  We parted on terrible terms . . ."

"Ah, Nerissa.  Have you never heard the old adage, 'Absence makes the heart grow fonder?'  Think.  If Perry goes away for a while, it is only natural that he'll start missing you.  Let him go.  Let him miss you; it is good for him.  Perhaps, when he returns, he will suddenly decide he can't live without you, and you'll get him to commit to a wedding date."

"Oh, Lucien . . . do you really think so?"

"I am optimistic."

Nerissa flung her arms around his neck, reminding him of the little girl she had once been, running to him for comfort after falling and scraping a knee, reminding him of all the times he'd stood at that same window behind him and watched Charles and Gareth racing their ponies down the drive.  How he had longed to be out there with them, enjoying a childhood that had ended the moment he'd found his father dead on the tower stairs; how he'd resented being forced to stay indoors and compose himself with the maturity and dignity his new role as duke had demanded —

"Oh, Lucien . . . sometimes I just want to strangle you  . . . other times, I love you beyond reason because you always say the right thing at the right time."  She pulled back, hastily wiping at her tears and smiling bravely.  "I will be patient, then.  I will wait here in England, and when he returns . . ."

"Perhaps he'll have an offer for you," Lucien finished, with an encouraging lift of one brow.

Nerissa left the room in higher spirits than she had entered it, never seeing the satisfied triumph in her brother's eyes.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

"Indeed," he murmured — and smiled.