He jerked his gaze to her face and shrugged. “We’re friends.”
It was a weak rebuttal, and she shook her head. “It’s more than that. Everett, I’m no innocent, I haven’t been for years. And I know full well that sometimes love and passion do not follow the path that Society thinks they should. The heart wants what it wants—as the past five days have proven over and over again.”
He let out his breath slowly, and she saw the cracks enter his armor. Saw it all crash down as he returned back to bed and lay down beside her. “Marcus and I met when I entered the army.”
She drew back. “A future marquess?”
“I wasn’t meant to be a marquess,” he said. “My brother was to inherit, and I wanted to make my own way through becoming an officer. Marcus was from almost nothing—it was very difficult for him to rise up in the ranks. And yet he did, entirely on his own merit.”
She heard the pride in Everett’s tone. The love. And she understood everything a little more even before he continued.
“I’d always…known that I was attracted to both men and women. But I knew few others like myself. The moment I saw Marcus, saw the way he looked at me, I recognized a kindred spirit. And you’ve seen him, you’ve touched him. He’s magnificent.”
She nodded. “He is that. You are, as well.”
He smiled. “Well, he had worked hard to get where he was. And he feared the consequences of following what his body wanted, perhaps what his heart desired. And then we were ordered to clear off an island to the west. Small, the perfect place for bad deeds. We were in a tiny boat when a squall hit. We capsized and had to swim for the island.”
She gasped. “How far?”
“Far enough that I couldn’t make it. Marcus dragged me ashore, put me in a cave, made me a fire, and saved my life.” He hesitated a moment and gathered himself. “We were on that island for three nights before we were found. The second night we…gave in to our passions.”
Her lips parted. “You made love.”
“Yes,” he said. “And it was wonderful. Because he’s wonderful. We talked about our feelings, our draw to both men and women. How difficult it was to be different and to have to hide your heart. We truly connected.”
“You are in love with him,” she said, and felt no jealousy. This was a connection outside of the bond she shared with both men.
Everett met her stare. “Yes,” he said, simply. “And I think we might have worked it out. Many men like us live separate lives, find ways to come to terms of some kind with their lovers. But then my brother died. I inherited and had to leave the army. Marcus changed then. He knew that if our secret came out, it would hurt me far more as a lord than as a mere gentleman. He also knew that I would be expected to marry and produce heirs and that my wife would likely be in the dark about my secret passions.”
She shook her head. “He pulled away, just as he did today.”
“Yes.” Everett’s voice cracked with emotion. “I kept him near me by investigating with him and being his friend. By occasionally sharing a woman so I could be close to him. And every so often, when he’s in his cups, he even kisses me or touches me. But then he pulls away and talks about duty, and here we are.”
“Have you ever loved a woman?” she asked. “Or was it always just a way to be close to him?”
She wondered if that were true even now. That hurt more than knowing he cared for Marcus or wanted him. She didn’t want to be used, not when she was beginning to care so deeply for both men.
“I have loved women,” he said. “I am not only attracted to men, as I said. The first time I saw you, I was wildly attracted. Knowing that he was, as well, realizing swiftly that you might be the kind of woman we could share, that was icing on a lovely cake, I assure you.”
“I’m glad you told me.”
He smiled. “To be honest, I’m rather surprised by your calm reaction. The last time we shared a lady for longer than a night in a hell, she…did not respond well when she discovered we wanted each other as much as we wanted her.”
She drew back. “Well, I suppose many women don’t even realize such things exist. But I’m not like them.”
“No, you are not,” he said softly. “In a perfect world, I could…love you both. Be with you both.”
Her lips parted. “Are you telling me you love me?” she whispered. No one had said those words to her in so very long. Certainly none of her husbands had said that.
And it was the sweetest thing she’d ever heard.
He nodded. “I am. I’ve never been the kind to think of love as a thunderbolt. Even with Marcus, it took months of dancing around the subject to get us to the point where I knew. But I swear to you, Naomi, I have fallen in love with you. What’s worse is that I’m fairly certain Marcus has, as well. And that will frighten him off even more.”
She bit her lips as all this sank in. Love. An impossible, incredible, utterly improper love with not one amazing man, but two. What a risk it would be to accept it. What a wonderful payout if the past five days had been any indication.
“Everett, I’ve lost enough in my life to know that love is something you hold on to. I’ve also begun to realize how precious you both are to me. I just never thought there could be a future. But…I do want that future, however we could make it work.”
His eyes lit up. “You do?”
“Under one condition,” she added.
“What is that?”
“You and Marcus,” she began, and saw pain enter his expression, as if he thought she would not want him to love the other man. She shook her head. “Don’t think ahead of my words, Everett. What I was going to say is that I could not happily be with you both if I knew you were hiding what you felt for each other.”
“You would…want us to be together?”
She nodded. “Yes. And now the question is, how do we convince Marcus that it’s possible?”
He sighed. “With great difficulty, I think.”
“Anything worth having is worth great difficulty, my love,” she said, leaning up to kiss him gently. “Let’s put our heads together, shall we?”
Chapter 9
Marcus stood in the parlor of Naomi’s old home, waiting with increasing disgust. The household was in a dither about his being here and over his demands to both speak to the servants and collect more of Naomi’s things. Worse, he knew this was a situation he’d created by bringing his upset into the investigation.
He was distracted. By Naomi. By Everett. When Everett had touched him, all his feelings had swelled and he’d wanted nothing more than to lean over the amazing woman tucked between them and kiss him. What would she have done then?
He knew what. She would have pulled away. Their positions would have been in danger, just like last time.
He couldn’t go through it again. He couldn’t go through watching Everett live a farce of a life with a lady even while he snuck off to visit Marcus. Half of Everett’s heart wasn’t going to be enough. Marcus would rather have none and try to move on. That never worked, of course, but he kept trying regardless.
There was a bang in the hallway and loud voices moved toward the parlor. Marcus readied himself as the parlor door flew open and revealed a tall, rather handsome man with Naomi’s butler at his heels.
“Who the hell are you?” the man asked.
Marcus arched his brow. “I would ask the same, sir. From your dress, it’s clear you aren’t a servant, and the servants are who I am here to interview.”
“What right do you have to speak to my sister’s servants or to demand her clothing?” the other man hissed as he waved the butler off.
Sister. Marcus stiffened. “Mr. Thaddeus Harris, I presume,” he said.
Harris inclined his head slightly. “You have me at a fucking disadvantage, so I repeat: who the hell are you?”
“My name is Marcus Ridgeway,” he said softly. “An acquaintance of your sister.”
The look that crossed Harris’s face as he looked Marcus up and down was n
othing short of rage. Unadulterated jealousy flowed over his face, and it was clear that his intentions toward Naomi were not of a good nature.
Which set Marcus’s protective instincts aflame. This man would never touch her. Never hurt her. Never make her face look the way it did when she had described him ever, ever again.
“Where is Naomi?” Harris growled, stepping forward, his hands fisted at his sides. “She has been missing nearly a week. Her family has been going mad looking for her.”
“You mean you have,” Marcus said carefully.
“I’m her family,” Harris said. “So yes.”
“She’s safe,” Marcus said, turning away as if bored, though he remained utterly aware of every move the man behind him made. “For now that is all I can tell you.”
Harris roared in anger and stormed toward him. Marcus turned, bracing himself as Harris shoved him with both hands. “Where is she?”
Marcus arched a brow. “Do not test me, sir. I have no intention of telling you where she is.”
“I will fucking gut you!” Harris shouted. “Do not think I won’t.”
Marcus let the threat hang in the air between them, along with the unspoken implication that Harris had experience in harming others. Marcus examined him closely as he stood there, nostrils flaring like an enraged bull. There was a light of violence in his eyes. Of single-minded dedication. Of lustful rage that could not be contained.
It was the look of a man more than capable of killing. Which made him Marcus’s main suspect in the murders of Naomi’s husband. Perhaps of all her husbands.
“I’m certain I understand your worry,” he said calmly, as if he had not just been assaulted. “After all, Lady Walridge has experienced a great loss so recently. The death of her husband must weigh heavily on the minds of all who love her.”
Harris snorted and rolled his eyes. “Tosser got what he deserved. Tell me where she is—I won’t ask again.”
Marcus nodded slowly. “She is with a friend. I was sent by her. I will pass along your deep concern, Mr. Harris. I’m certain she’ll reach out if she wishes to see you.”
Harris cocked his hand back with another growl. As he did so, Marcus reached into his jacket and withdrew his pistol. “That will be enough of that.”
Harris hesitated, staring at the weapon trained on his chest, then back to Marcus’s face. After years in the army, Marcus knew that when he held a gun, his demeanor changed. He went from easygoing gentleman to soldier. It was old habit, never lost no matter how far from service he strayed.
Harris backed up. “Fine. But you’d best tell her she needs to see me. Else next you and I meet, you won’t have time to pull a gun.”
“I’ll pass the message along,” Marcus said with a slow smile. He walked past Harris to the door and found a servant was waiting there with a trunk of Naomi’s things. Beside it was a young woman who was shifting her weight back and forth and glancing into the room toward Harris.
“I’m Lady Walridge’s maid,” she said, her voice wavering. “You really ought to have me come, too. I’m sure she needs help, wherever she is.”
Marcus glanced over his shoulder at Harris and then shook his head slowly. “You’ve been reporting to him, eh?”
She froze and her expression told him all. Terror and guilt mixed as one. He almost felt sorry for her, as the girl likely had few choices.
“You’ll want to go,” he said softly. “Perhaps Lady Walridge will be kind enough to write you a reference. Good day.” He glanced to the male servant holding the trunk. “Put that in my carriage.”
“Yes, sir,” the man said, and hustled out in front of Marcus to do just that. He followed and got in, calling out to his driver to take him home.
But as the carriage rolled away, he saw Harris come out and stare after him. And his discomfort about Naomi’s safety, as well as whatever he’d face after his abrupt departure earlier in the day, grew in his chest.
Everett stepped from the parlor as Marcus barked out instructions for Naomi’s trunk to be taken to her room. As Marcus entered the hall and saw Everett, he came to a stop, his handsome face falling.
“I’m glad you’re back,” Everett said softly. “I was concerned.”
He reached out as he said the words. Watched Marcus track his hand, his pupils dilating with every moment Everett closed the distance between them. He saw the want there, the want that always gave him hope.
Then Marcus slammed the wall down. “Don’t.”
He ignored the order and placed his hand on Marcus’s. He felt the pull, felt Marcus shift toward him, heard the slight intake of his breath. They stood that way a moment, eyes locked.
“I told Naomi about us,” Everett said.
The spell was broken as Marcus wrenched his hand away and staggered back. He stared at Everett with utter betrayal. “Why the hell would you do that? Why the hell would you tell her my story?”
“Your story?” Everett repeated in disbelief. “Just yours, then? It’s not my life, too, my secret?”
“Not just yours,” Marcus corrected, shoving a hand through his hair. “And not just mine. Either way, you had no right to speak of it.”
Everett threw up his hands. Marcus wouldn’t even ask her reaction, just push him away like all of it meant nothing. “We’re bound together and you know it, no matter how far and fast you try to run away. And she could be the one who holds us together, Marcus. She could be the piece that makes us all whole.”
Marcus’s expression was unreadable in the dim hallway. Then he stepped closer, closing some of the distance that separated them.
“You’re in love with her,” he said, his tone rough and quiet, hardly a whisper.
Everett drew a long breath. “Yes,” he admitted.
Marcus was silent a beat. Two. Then he shook his head. “Wonderful. Then marry her. Do your duty with a woman you can actually care about, one who understands you. And…and forget about us. This.”
Everett shook his head. He’d had enough of this argument. Enough of this rejection. Without hesitating, he stepped up, pressed a hand to Marcus’s shoulder and shoved him back against the wall. He cupped Marcus’s cheeks and then he kissed him.
For a moment, Marcus remained still, fighting with all his might to not respond. But as Everett traced the crease of his lips with the tip of his tongue, Marcus let out a low moan and opened to him. It had been months since they’d done this, close to a year, and Everett drowned in the taste of him. The feel of their tongues clashing with desperation and need and love. Oh yes, with love.
Marcus stiffened in an instant, though, and pulled away, turning his face. Everett ducked his chin as he backed up. Gave Marcus the space he required.
“Forget this? Forget us?” he repeated. “I will never do that, Marcus. Never.”
Marcus stared at him, silent. Then he pushed past Everett. “This is foolish. I have something to tell Naomi, to tell you, and it has nothing to do with all this. Where is she?”
“In the parlor,” Everett said, folding his arms.
Marcus froze and turned back. “Listening to all this.”
“Go ask her,” Everett growled, and turned to push past Marcus and re-enter the parlor himself. Where Naomi was waiting, and perhaps, if she could get through to him where Everett could not…the future.
Naomi fought to keep her expression calm as the two men entered the parlor. She’d been listening to them, of course. Heard the whole exchange where Everett pushed, Marcus pulled. She wondered how long it had been like that between them, both fighting for position.
And could she be the fulcrum that gave them balance, a center that could be there for both of them? It was a heady thing to believe. A wonderful and terrifying thing.
“Marcus,” she said softly as he strode into the room and straight for the sideboard, where he poured a drink.
“I saw your brother today,” he said without preamble.
Naomi’s lips parted as a dozen unpleasant memories flooded her entire being. Thadd
eus and his looks and words and…worse.
“Where?” she whispered.
“Your servants, at least your maid, have been betraying you to him,” Marcus said. “When I arrived at your late husband’s home to collect your things, I was asked to wait, and I am one hundred percent certain your maid sent word to your brother. He crashed into the parlor to confront me and gave me reason to believe he would commit violence to get to you.”
She rushed forward and caught Marcus’s arm. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?” she asked, searching his face for damage, longing to put her arms around him and seek proof that he wasn’t injured.
“No,” he said, his tone gentling as he touched her cheek briefly. Then he hardened again and his fingers jerked away. “But your expression makes it clear this outburst is not a surprise to you. You told us he had a protective streak. And that his wife’s dislike of you was the reason you left his custody after the death of your second husband. Is there more to it? Has Thaddeus Harris brought harm to someone on your behalf?”
She turned her face. “Once, before I married, he attacked a man who was courting me. He broke his nose. And then he…” She trailed off and covered her mouth.
Everett stepped up, his hand coming to the small of her back as comfort and encouragement. “And then?”
She bit back a sob. “He grabbed me and kissed me on a terrace. I was eighteen, just barely out in Society. I pushed him away and he nearly struck me before his wife called out to him from the house, unaware of what was happening. But that was the only time he attempted such a thing.”
Marcus slammed his drink down. “And you didn’t think it was a good idea to tell us about this? When we were investigating who might commit violence against your husband?”
She jolted at the question. “Of course I-I should have. But I wasn’t thinking. I never thought it meant much, and honestly it was one of the most terrifying moments of my life. I’ve tried to forget it. Forget that he did it.”
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