by Aston, Alexa
“You’ve tried to protect those you care for, Burke. I’m sorry I doubted you.”
He sighed in relief. “Thank you for understanding. Once this is over and done and I’ve obtained the proof needed, I would enjoy coming to Gray Manor for a visit.”
“Charlotte and I would like that.”
He rose. “I’d best leave. I know you’re leaving today.”
Gray escorted him to the foyer and they embraced.
“Take care, Burke. Send word the moment it’s over. I’ll worry about you until then.”
As they walked to the door, a knock sounded. Dread filled him. He knew exactly who would be standing on the other side of the door.
Gray opened it and Burke’s heart stopped.
Gemma stood there, radiant as always. She seemed stunned to find him standing there with Gray.
“I was just leaving,” he explained. “I came to say goodbye.”
“I see.” Her voice was even. Her tone neutral.
But her eyes glimmered with a hint of tears.
“Good day,” he said curtly and stepped past her.
Without looking back, he hurried away from the Crampton townhome and returned to his own.
It didn’t surprise him when a half-block away, he heard someone call his name. Turning, Burke saw Carpenter exit a carriage. He waited patiently, wondering what their conversation would be about.
“You’ve been busy,” the viscount noted.
“How so?” he asked testily. “Are you following me about?”
“Yes. To see you follow through with your orders.”
Frowning, he said, “I’m not some green soldier going into his first battle, Carpenter. I’m a seasoned veteran. I’ve already done as asked. It will be over by tomorrow.”
“Tell me,” Carpenter instructed. “Our mutual friends are interested in your progress.”
“Very well. Would you like to come in? I live only a few doors away.”
“No. Here is fine. Get on with it.”
“I returned home after last night’s meeting to retrieve a supply of foxglove I keep on hand. I then went to visit Lady Morris, having arranged to meet with her after our meeting last night.”
“And what of her husband?”
“She complains of the long hours he works at the War Office and how he comes home and goes straight to bed. They haven’t slept together in years. On the nights I visit her, she leaves a downstairs window unlocked. I enter through it.”
“And last night?”
“I followed that pattern. Made love to her rather quickly and then told her I was tired of sneaking around. That I thought we should wed. That her husband made her miserable and I would always make her happy.”
Carpenter’s eyes gleamed with approval. “Did you tell her how?”
“Yes. I gave her the foxglove. She will make sure he receives a small bit in his tea this morning, enough to make him ill. He’ll be dizzy and have a headache and vomit a good deal. She’ll put him to bed and fuss over him, making sure he gets another tiny dose later today. He’ll grow more ill this afternoon and then rally a bit tonight.”
“And tomorrow?” Carpenter prompted.
“In tomorrow’s broth will be a lethal dose. It will cause his heart to race and pump the blood fiercely. So fast and furiously that he will succumb to a heart attack.”
The viscount smiled. “With his previous illness the day before—and the long hours he works—it will not be unexpected.”
“Exactly.” Burke paused. “It was easy to have Linda cooperate. She’s starved for affection and obviously willing to do anything for me. We may need to . . . handle her.”
The traitor chuckled. “You don’t see yourself wed to the Widow Morris?”
“I don’t see myself committing to one woman. Ever. Maybe one at a time but even then, for only a short duration.”
“You are a rake of the first degree, Nicholson,” praised Carpenter. “As for Lady Morris, I’m sure no one will mind if you take care of her.”
“Good,” he said with mustered enthusiasm. “She may have an accident shortly after her husband’s death. Or she may be despondent and take her own life. I’ll cross that road when I must.”
“Excellent work, Nicholson. I’ll be sure our friends know Sir Paxton is too ill to come to the War Office today and that he will never return.” The viscount paused. “As to your trip to see Lord Crampton?”
“We are friends from childhood. We also fought together in Spain. He and Lady Crampton are returning to the country this morning. She is with child and staying for the Season would be pointless in her current condition. He would have expected me to say goodbye—and I did.” He gave Carpenter a haughty look. “Am I to guess you’ll continue to follow me about? Or have my actions proven I’m to be trusted?”
Carpenter eyed him appreciatively. “I believe you can come and go as you choose, as long as you are present at Mrs. Crawford’s tomorrow night. Do you have another lady that calls you to her bed?”
Burke gave a wide smile. “Aa matter of fact, there are two beyond Lady Morris that need my attention.”
The viscount roared with laughter. “Until midnight tomorrow.”
“Until then.”
He returned to his townhouse, feeing dirty for the lies he’d told. Rationally, he knew what he did was best for his country. But it left him so lonely.
Though his body was tired, he knew sleep wouldn’t come. He went for a long walk in the park, even sitting on a bench near the Serpentine for an hour. Hardly anyone was there at such an early hour and he found his thoughts turning to Gemma.
He owed it to her to reveal the ruse regarding Sir Paxton Morris and his untimely passing. She’d already been strongly affected by the deaths of her husband and father-in-law. Burke didn’t want her further hurt by this supposed death. If she knew it was merely part of the plan, she could pretend to mourn without suffering the emotions associated with Morris’ death.
Making his way to her home, he studied his surroundings carefully and found no one trailed him. Even if they did, he could pretend Gemma was one of his amorous visits, if asked.
It surprised him when Mrs. Pettigrew answered his knock, a basket on her arm and a maid holding two more standing close behind her.
“Oh, Mr. Nicholson!” the cook exclaimed. “We haven’t seen you in a good while.”
“It’s good to see you, Mrs. Pettigrew. I’ve missed your cooking.”
“Maybe you could come around for more of it sometime soon. Joanie and I are off to market.”
“And Bosley?”
“He’s gone to his father’s funeral near Windsor. Won’t be back until tomorrow evening,” the servant informed him.
“Is Lady Covington at home?” he asked politely.
“She’s working in that study of hers. Always has some project going on.”
“May I see her?”
The cook nodded. “Go on in and knock at the door. Joanie and I will be back.”
With that, she admitted Burke and the two women left. Immediately, he went to Gemma’s study and stood before it, nerves suddenly striking him. He steeled himself. Either she’d see him or she wouldn’t.
He rapped on the door and Gemma opened it. Her jaw dropped at the sight of him.
“We need to talk, Gemma,” he said firmly. “It’s important.”
Wariness filled her eyes but she stepped aside. “Come in.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Gemma didn’t know why Burke had come. Part of her wanted to rage at him. It gutted her to see him at ton events, where he totally ignored her, but seeing him in person—twice in the same day—was almost more than she could bear. After finding him at the Cramptons, it had all but ruined her breakfast with Charlotte and the girls. She’d strained to keep a smile on her face and remain present instead of slipping away into the dark recesses of her mind.
Now here he was again, claiming he had something to talk about.
She didn’t offer him a seat and
didn’t take one herself. Leaving the door open, she asked, “What is so important that you couldn’t have mentioned it to me when we saw each other earlier?”
Hurt sprang in his eye, which he quickly masked. “It wasn’t something to speak of in front of Gray. Or in public, for that matter.”
She crossed her arms, trying to still the butterflies in her stomach. “Well, what then? Spit it out and be on your way. I have plenty to do.”
She did have quite a bit of work. Not that she’d been able to concentrate on it after seeing Burke a few hours ago.
“Could we sit?”
“No. I don’t think so. Say what you came to say,” she said sharply.
“It regards a very private matter. You mustn’t breathe a word of it to anyone.”
Without commenting, Gemma went and shut the door. She wanted to lean against it for support but didn’t want to reveal to him how much he affected her. Gathering her courage, she returned to stand near him.
But not too near.
Crossing her arms again, she said, “I’m waiting.”
“I’ve been asked to kill Sir Paxton Morris.”
It was as if all the air had been sucked from the room. She felt her knees buckle. Burke rushed to her and wrapped an arm about her waist. Instantly, her body awakened, calling out for his touch. Her mouth grew dry. His scent and very nearness caused dizziness.
“Here, let me help you.”
Burke maneuvered her to a settee and settled her on it, seating himself next to her. Gemma wanted to scream at him to move away but controlled her tongue and, hopefully, her emotions.
“I assume you’ve infiltrated the ring of traitors. That they’ve asked you to assassinate Sir Paxton.”
“Yes. It will happen tomorrow.”
The certainty of his words caused a frisson of fear within her and she eyed him with suspicion. He told her of his role in the murder of a high-ranking government official as if it would definitely occur. What would he do to her to prevent her from revealing the plot to Sir Paxton?
Suddenly, Burke became a stranger to her.
He took her hand and she stiffened but was too fearful to pull away.
“Gemma, I’m not going to hurt him. How could you think that?”
She bit her lip, trying to think.
“I know you work closely with Morris. I was afraid if you heard the news of his death that it would affect you greatly. That’s why I came to you.”
Quickly, Burke explained how he and Sir Paxton had arranged for the spymaster’s so-called death. How the conspirators believed Burke and Lady Morris were engaged in an affair and that he’d supposedly provided foxglove to her to mimic a heart attack. The wealth of information overwhelmed Gemma.
“So today, Sir Paxton becomes ill, then his heart attack and death occur tomorrow?” she asked, trying to get the timeline straight in her mind.
“That’s correct. Word will get out fast, thanks to his position in the War Office. I knew you would hear—or read it in the newspapers—and I didn’t want you to suffer needlessly.”
It moved her that he’d come in person to tell her of the events that would unfold. That he trusted her to keep quiet about them. “That is . . . very thoughtful of you.”
“I think about you a great deal, Gemma. In fact, all the time.”
His gentle words rattled her. In anger, she lashed out. “I suppose you think of me when you’re dancing with every beautiful woman in the room. When you take the very cream of the crop into supper and lean close, whispering in their ears. When you—”
“Are you jealous?” he asked, wonder on his face.
“Of course, I’m bloody jealous,” she shouted at him. “You never acknowledge my existence. It’s as if nothing ever passed between us.”
“I thought that’s how you wanted it.”
Her lips trembled. “I thought I did. But I don’t. I never really wanted to give you up.” Tears welled in her eyes. “I would never go against Sir Paxton, though. I know he was trying to protect me. You’re involved with some of the most dangerous men in all of England. I’m worried sick about you all the time—when I’m not cursing at you for being so handsome and flirting with every woman of the ton but me.”
He squeezed her hand. “I love you, Gemma,” he said softly.
The words caused a river of tears to erupt. She broke down, sobbing wildly. Burke took her in his arms and she buried her face against his chest.
He loved her.
Burke Nicholson loved her.
And his involvement with Fouché’s men might very well get him killed.
She cried harder, knowing even if it didn’t that love to him meant something far different than to her. He would never marry her. He wasn’t that kind of man.
Yet Gemma wanted him so fiercely that she would do anything to have him. Anything.
Suddenly, she decided she would. Nothing could stop her.
She lifted her face and captured his in her hands, pulling him close until their lips touched. It was as if she’d lit a match, the spark between them was so great.
Burke’s hands also went to her face, holding her in place to ensure she didn’t go anywhere. His mouth slanted over hers in hard, bruising kisses. Kisses that showed his hunger for her. His fingers pushed into her hair, pins spilling around them as her hair came undone.
As she came undone.
Gliding his fingers through her thick locks, he murmured something. She didn’t care what he said. Only that he did. That he kissed her. Touched her.
That he made her his. If only for a short while.
Gemma broke the kiss, breathless, and saw desire burning in his beautiful gray eye.
“Take me upstairs,” she whispered.
His fingers stilled. He said nothing.
Uncertainty filled her. Still, she had to ask. “Did you hear me?”
“Yes,” he said, his fingers combing through her hair. Finding the ends. Leaving her.
“Do you want me, Burke? Because I want you.”
“I want you more than I could ever express, Gemma. I love you.” Sincerity shone on his handsome face. “But I—”
“I’m not asking for a lifetime commitment,” she said quickly. “Just something now. Today. Don’t think about tomorrow.”
Burke swept her into his arms and headed toward the door. Gemma was glad Mr. Bosley was away because he would probably try to stop them—and pummel Burke for good measure.
“Put me down,” she urged. “Mrs. Petti—”
“Mrs. Pettigrew and Joanie are at the market,” he said as he opened the door. “We have the house to ourselves.”
He raced up the stairs and hesitated at the top. “Which way?”
“Left. The end of the hall.”
His strides took them there swiftly and they entered her bedchamber. Burke carried her to the bed and placed her down gently and then sat next to her.
Running his fingers through her hair again, he asked, “Are you certain?”
“I know my mind, Burke. And remember, I’m the one that asked you to go upstairs, not the other way around.”
He bent and gave her a long, delicious kiss, one that she felt down to her toes. He took his time undressing her, kissing her thoroughly after each piece was discarded. As more of her was exposed to him, Gemma felt her skin heat. Her core pound. Her heart thump.
When she lay completely bare, he stood. She watched as his clothes came off, revealing a body of hard muscle and so beautiful to her. Then he stilled, a painful expression crossing his face. She thought perhaps he had changed his mind and sat up, ready to argue with him. She opened her mouth but he raised a hand, causing her to keep silent and hear what he had to say.
“Before we go any further, I must show you something, Gemma. Something that may have you reconsider coupling with me.” He swallowed. “If you do, I will understand.”
“I won’t have a change of heart, Burke,” she told him, fierce determination running through her.
He shook
his head. “You may.” He paused, looking as if he summoned his courage. “I must show you something first. What was done to me. To my back. I have never seen it but I know from the doctors’ faces and the pain I suffered during a very long recovery just how vile and hideous it must be.”
“When you were tortured,” she said softly.
“Yes. I know I am disfigured. That my back is repulsive.” His gaze met hers. “I won’t judge you, Gemma. Just tell me if you wish me to go.”
With that, Burke slowly turned around, revealing his back to her. She brought her hand to her mouth to prevent from crying out. What she saw brought tears to her eyes. The entire length of his back was covered in grotesque scars. The extent of his damaged flesh stunned her.
Still, she rose from the bed, wiping the tears from her eyes. She came and stood behind him, wrapping her arms about his waist as she placed her cheek against the ruined flesh.
“Are you disgusted?” he asked.
“I am angry,” she replied. “What was done to you is monstrous. But your scars speak to me of your strength, Burke. You suffered at the hands of monsters but you did not let them prevail. You remained strong The scars are a testament to your courage.”
She lifted her head and kissed his marred skin repeatedly, moving across the width of his back, wishing her kisses could remove the pain of his memories.
He turned to face her, taking her hands and pressing fervent kisses along her knuckles.
“You still would make love with me?”
Gemma smiled. “If you attempt to leave, I will chase you down. Even though I am naked.”
He lit up with her words. “I would rather have you naked in this bed with me.”
She broke away and ran to it, flinging herself upon the mattress. “Then what are you waiting for?”
He joined her on the bed and his hands explored every inch of her, his tongue often following in their wake. Gemma felt cosseted. Adored. And very aroused. Anticipation filled her. She had no idea what came next but she knew her body craved it.
As he worshipped each breast, Burke’s fingers worked their magic from before at the place between her legs. The volcano within her erupted again, the thrilling tremors fanning out in all directions. It had barely subsided when she felt his manhood press against where his fingers had been. It jutted away from him, long and thick, and she realized he meant to put it inside her. Before she could protest that it would never fit, his mouth covered hers. His cock pushed into her and Gemma felt herself stretched until she thought she would break.
