Wicked And Wild: Spencers in Love Book Two (20 page)

“Alastair, I know you were
defending the family and it makes sense to you but justice wasn’t ours alone to
claim. He had so many victims. We've effectively robbed them.” Lucien watched
Alastair’s face for any movement. He was utterly still.

“It seems I'm in agreement with
Whitrose again. None of those people matter to me. Not in this. If he was
correct in his belief that he would escape justice, we would have failed his
victims and we would all be in danger again. We don't know what influence he
had within the courts. He was able to operate almost completely above the law
until you made it impossible by getting involved. There wouldn’t have been
justice for anyone if I hadn't killed him.”

Lucien sat back. He understood
Alastair's logic but he didn't agree with it completely.

“As I said before, I do not value
honor over life. Certainly not my sister’s. Or yours. I believe that Whitrose
would not have let us take him from those woods without a fight and one of us
would have killed him in the end. Your conscience would have been greatly
troubled and I did not want Gilles driven to such extreme emotions. As I would
be least effected, it was again, the best solution.” Alastair was so calm; he
could have been describing his reasons for selecting a book. Lucien could only
stare.

“How could you not be affected?”
Lucien whispered. Alastair blinked several times and his head tilted.

“I don't know. A lack of empathy? I
don't understand your preoccupation with emotions, Lucien. Would you feel
better if I did feel something? Would it make the situation more acceptable?”
Alastair looked at Lucien expectantly.

“No.” He sighed.

“I'm curious: every time you’ve
killed someone, did you react like this afterwards?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Every
time I've killed, I knew it was unavoidable.”

“Precisely. I believe killing
Whitrose was unavoidable.” Alastair stated. Lucien realized the futility of the
conversation.

“Your wife is safe, Lucien.
Whitrose is no longer a threat and you can put him behind you.” He sat back and
relaxed against the seat.

Lucien considered his words. It was
over. It wasn't the end he would have preferred but it was over.

“You're right.” Lucien said as he
felt the tension seep from his body.

“Of course.” Alastair mumbled and
shut his eyes.

Chapter 38

            Mirabelle paced in the study while a dozen pairs
of eyes watched her. Lucien and her brothers had been gone for over two hours.
Every minute that passed became heavier. Would she know if something happened?
She couldn't imagine any of them dying and not feeling it, the three of them
were as much a part of her as her limbs.

How would she face her mother? Or
tell Elise? What about Madeline? How could she live without Lucien? At the
thought, her stomach clenched and she felt dizzy. She sagged onto the couch and
Hendrick started to rise, his face filled with concern. Mirabelle gestured for
him to stay and shook her head.

Voices started yelling in the hall.
Mirabelle was on her feet and tried to rush to the door but was stopped by two
stable hands.

“You have to wait until we know who
it is, Your Grace.” Once again, she was surrounded and pistols were readied.

“It's His Grace! They're back!”
Someone yelled from the front of the hall. Mirabelle pushed through and
Hendrick opened the study door. She skidded into the hall and saw Lucien leap
from the coach and run up the steps. Relief and exhilaration burst within her
as she ran to him. He scooped her into his arms and buried his face in the
corner of her neck.

“It's over.” Lucien whispered. He
set her on her feet and cradled her face in his hands as his lips covered hers.
Mirabelle parted her lips and his tongue swept in. His hands slid into her hair
as he angled his face and took their kiss deeper. She pressed herself against
him as she tugged his lapels and he groaned. Hunger crashed through her.

“I made it back as well!” Gilles
announced as he passed them on the way to the study.

Lucien lifted his head and Mirabelle
waited for her eyes to focus before she stepped back.

“Pardon me.” Alastair said as he passed
them, following Gilles. Mirabelle silently thanked God for bringing all three
back to her. She looked back at Lucien.

“Is he…?” She whispered. His face
became hard for a moment.

“He's dead. Alastair.” She looked
towards the study. She could see him talking to Gilles; he looked tired and
filthy but otherwise normal. Gilles was relaxed, drinking a scotch and laughing
at some comment Alastair had made.

Men filled the hall. Stable hands,
house staff, farmers, gardeners… all armed and exhausted, waited for Lucien's
direction. He looked around and smiled.

“The danger has passed. You have my
deepest gratitude for protecting my wife and this house. Go to your beds and
sleep, work can wait until tomorrow. Your loyalty won't be unrewarded, you have
my word.”

            Hendrick approached.

            “A chamber has been prepared for yours and Her
Grace’s use until the ducal chambers are restored. His lordship’s and Sir
Alastair's rooms are readied as well. I have baths being prepared and Cook will
have a hot meal ready soon. Is there anything else you require?” Lucien shook
his head and pulled him into an embrace, patting his back.

            “Get some rest, please. Thank you for everything.”
Lucien released him and strode into the study. Mirabelle smiled softly at
Hendrick, he was overcome and doing his best to remain composed. She squeezed
his arm.

            “Thank you for taking such good care of us.” She
whispered and turned to the study.

            The tableau that greeted Mirabelle in the study was
disorienting. Lucien was settling into an armchair with a drink in his hand,
laughing as he unbuttoned his coat. Gilles was sprawled on the couch nursing
his own drink. Alastair leaned casually against the sideboard, relaxed as he
swirled his glass of scotch. If they hadn't been drinking, it could have been a
scene out of their childhood. Mirabelle found it hard to believe that they had
recently captured and killed a man. Not that she felt anything for the man; she
just expected them to be a bit more effected.

            Mirabelle blinked and the men in front of her
changed. They were no longer the overbearing, teasing boys she'd grown up with.
She saw them as they really were: Men that had fought and killed for their
country and family. She had never asked Gilles about the years he spent in France.
She never questioned Alastair when he returned after being away for weeks or
months. Nor had she questioned Lucien when he turned up injured after a few
days absence. They wouldn't tell her and Mirabelle wasn't sure she wanted to
know how often they came close to dying or the horrors they saw. After her
brush with Whitrose and what Lucien had told her about little Charlotte and her
mother, she was just grateful that they had each survived and were for the most
part unchanged.

            Lucien raised his hand to Mirabelle and she
crossed the room. He pulled her into his lap and she rested her head on his
chest. As always, his scent warmed her. She felt his hand slide into her hair
and he began tugging her chignon free, collecting the pins as he went, obviously
unconcerned that her brothers were in the room. Mirabelle glanced at Gilles and
Alastair and neither seemed to notice.

            “Hendrick had your rooms prepared. A hot meal
and baths will be ready soon. Obviously, you're welcome to stay as long as you
like.” Lucien said as he brushed his fingers through Mirabelle's hair. The
gentle tugging was making her drowsy and aroused.

            “If you don't mind, I'll eat and bathe and then borrow
your coach and a driver. I'd like to get back to Elise. I can rest on the
road.” Gilles said as he sat up. Lucien nodded.

            “Absolutely. I can sympathize with your desire
to get home to your wife.” His arms tightened around Mirabelle. An idea came to
her and she sat up.

            “Ask Madeline if she'd like to come back with
the coach. That is, if Elise and maman can spare her.” Gilles smiled.

            “I'm sure they can manage.”

            “The ducal chambers will need to be completely
redone and we have to prepare for the baby.” She couldn't stop herself from yawning;
it all seemed so daunting at the moment.

            “I think I’ll stay a while. My investigations
for the War Office are at a standstill. I noticed some new cattle in the
stables, I wouldn't mind helping you and Toby break in a few horses and getting
some riding in.” Alastair finished his scotch and Lucien saluted him as he
strolled from the room.

Gilles stood and stretched.
Mirabelle rose and went to him. He pulled her to him and kissed her brow.

“Take good care of yourself and
listen to your husband, brat. I'll try to visit soon.”

“Give everyone my love and thank
you for coming so quickly.” Mirabelle whispered against his chest.

“I'll always come. Though I don't
think you'll need my protection anymore.” Gilles squeezed her tight before he
released her. She stepped back and Lucien shook his hand before embracing him.

“Thank you, Hal! I'll take good
care of her.” Lucien vowed. Gilles clapped him on the back.

“I was returning the favor,
Mercutio. You were there for me and Elise.” Lucien laughed and shook his head.

“We can't make this a habit. I was
under the impression that married life was supposed to be dull.” Lucien said as
he took Mirabelle's hand.

“Amen!” Gilles laughed as he walked
out of the study. Lucien turned to Mirabelle, raising her hand to his lips. He
kissed the inside of her wrist and she shivered.

“Let's go upstairs. Mary can bring
us a tray. I want to get you in bed, you're exhausted.” Lucien tugged her
towards the door.

“I could be a little more
exhausted.” Mirabelle purred as she stepped into him. Lucien swung her into his
arms and grinned wolfishly.

“You should plan on needing at least
two days to recover, madam.”

Chapter 39

            The park to the west of Winthorpe was strewn
with dew stars. Alastair glanced over the expanse and let the sight sooth him. The
stallion beneath him seethed, barely broken and wanting to fly, he snorted,
bucked and reared up until he sensed that cooperating was the only way he'd
run. Alastair held him, letting his anger and tension mount until he was ready
to explode. He grasped the reins and leaned low, the horse strained. Alastair
kicked in the stirrups and yelled; the horse sprang forward and shot onto the
field.

            Alastair smiled as he felt his heartbeat rising
to meet the pounding of the horse’s hooves. Exhilaration coursed through his
veins and the wind made his eyes sting, causing tears to collect at the
corners. He turned the horse north, wanting a longer, more obstacle free ride
so he could give the horse his head.

            The months of frustration and emotional upheaval
loosened their grip and Alastair felt his balance returning. His role at the
War Office was almost at an end. During the war, he hunted and apprehended
spies and traitors like they were pieces on a chess board. He'd been called The
Chess Master. He had directed Gilles, Lucien and a few other powerful pieces so
effectively he’d been knighted. A large part of his success came from his
desire to step onto the field and get blood on his own hands. He enjoyed the
strategy but he thrived on action.

In his mind, he’d accounted for all
but two pieces. Alastair had spent the last few months poring over reports from
battlefields and documents looking for any sign of their involvement, any clue
to their identity or fate. He knew there was something out there; he just had
to be patient and let it come to him. He'd wait as long as he had to. Not
finding those pieces, letting them slip away, was letting them win. Alastair
didn't take losing well; he avoided it at all costs.

His thoughts switched to another
thing he was determined to avoid at all costs. Love. While he was happy for
Gilles, Elise, Mirabelle and Lucien, he did not hope to join them in marital
bliss. Bliss, indeed. To him, it held little appeal. Everything was too
tactile, too emotional, too unpredictable, too messy. Alastair shuddered. Not
for him.

Women, in his mind, were best when
they were where he wanted them, when he wanted them. He would need one soon.
Unlike Lucien and Gilles, he did not maintain a constant diet of intercourse.
He preferred to wait until he was starving and urgent. Then, he would gorge
himself until he was completely sated. After, he would cleanse himself and
begin fasting again. This pattern kept his focus where he needed it, kept him
from being susceptible to his desires when it wasn't appropriate.

The idea of letting a woman
interfere in his life, letting one into his personal domain, having one that
close almost constantly made Alastair's skin itch. It had taken the first eight
years of his life to decide that he liked Mirabelle. He still hadn’t adjusted
to living with her by the time he moved into Burton Place. While he loved her
deeply and had been more than willing to kill for her, he would not have
willingly chose to live with a female, if his parents had thought to consult
him. Even Elise was too unsettling for him. And she was considerably calmer
than Mirabelle. He admired her and was fascinated by the way she adapted to the
world but she was too perceptive and tactile. Both Elise and Mirabelle required
attention and intruded upon Gilles’ and Lucien’s personal space. Their effects
on his brother and best friend were appalling. Both men were vulnerable and
easily influenced, their minds often distracted by events in the bedroom. Despite
his insatiable thirst for knowledge, he was perfectly content to leave love
alone.

As Alastair reached adulthood, he'd
sought out knowledge and experience. He had traveled to places and done things
that would shock even his brother and Lucien. Needing to know had always been
his curse. He'd often risked his body and occasionally his mind, all for the
sake of knowing. His curiosity would have become destructive of he hadn't been
recruited to the War Office. The biggest problem Alastair now faced was what to
do with himself once he was no longer needed at the War Office. The family had
always been a constant for him. Now, Gilles and Elise would split their time
between London and Longwood while Lucien and Mirabelle had Clerendon House and
Winthorpe. Alastair no longer understood where he fit, he felt pulled in too
many directions. His mother would divide her time between households and was
preoccupied with the arrival of her grandchildren. She would have little time
or use for him either, he suspected.

For the time being, Alastair would
remain at Winthorpe. The physical work of breaking, training and exercising
horses would relax him and keep his mind off of the lack of direction in his
life. He was also curious to see how Mirabelle adjusted to her pregnancy. Being
inactive against her will for too long was going to make her unbearable, he
predicted. Alastair liked that he only had to stay until he was uncomfortable.
Lucien was in it for the duration.
Serves him right.
Alastair thought.

Lucien and Mirabelle had yet to
emerge from their temporary bed chambers. It had been almost two days. Alastair
was accustomed to similar behavior from Gilles and Elise so he wasn't surprised
but he tried to not dwell on it as much as it was Mirabelle. He was loathe to
admit, even to himself, that it would be nice to have someone to take meals
with or perhaps a game of chess with his sister. After Gilles left, Alastair
had Winthorpe almost to himself.

Alastair turned the horse back
towards Winthorpe. He leaned forward and patted his neck as he thundered over a
rise. Alastair was impressed by his size, speed, movement and temperament. He
was going to have to talk with Lucien; hopefully he'd be willing to part with the
stallion. If so, he'd name him Sleipnir.