Wicked With the Scoundrel

by Elizabeth Bright

  He is the handsomest man I’ve ever seen, Lady Claire might say.

  To which Riya would reply, Once he fell in a pile of camel dung. He smelled of shit for a week.

  Well. Perhaps Riya wouldn’t say shit.

  “Are you all right?” Deb asked.

  “Yes.” Colin jerked his head in the direction of the dining room. “We’ll wait in there. About damn time you showed up.”

  Deb arched his brows. “Has it been so terrible with the lady, then? Or was the marquess’s carriage not fine enough for your satisfaction?”

  Colin glared. “She is not terrible.”

  “No.” Deb grinned in sudden humor. “I like her.”

  Well, he would. Deb liked everyone, and Lady Claire was abominably likeable.

  “It was the carriage, wasn’t it?” Deb continued. “The curtains were made of silk instead of satin, and the swans-down squabs were too rough for your delicate buttocks.”

  “My buttocks aren’t nearly so delicate as yours will be when I’m through kicking your arse,” Colin retorted, but his heart wasn’t in it. His mind kept straying to Lady Claire. “What do you suppose women talk about when we’re not around?”

  Deb shrugged. “I haven’t the faintest. It depends on the women involved, doesn’t it? Lady Claire might ask about mummies. She likes to hear stories. Or Riya might show her some sketches she did of the pyramids.”

  Mummies. Sketches. Quite harmless. Not shouted words or heated kisses or, God forbid, feelings. Colin felt the muscles of his neck relax slightly. “That sounds like exactly the sort of conversation they would have.”

  “Or.” Deb hesitated.

  Colin’s neck muscles instantly knotted again. “Or?”

  “Or perhaps they are discussing Riya’s plans for the future. She has become quite close with Miss Benton, a friend of Mrs. Eastwood. Miss Benton invited her to stay with her in London for the winter.”

  Colin stared blankly at his friend. “London? Why in God’s name would Riya want to do that? No, don’t answer that.” He knew very well that Riya had not enjoyed their travels as much as he and Deb had. She hadn’t been miserable, although she disliked sea travel. But she had been lonely.

  “She’s homesick,” Deb said. “Although not yet quite enough so to return home, I think. Perhaps in another year, all will be forgiven.”

  “Is Amar aware of our whereabouts?”

  Deb lifted a shoulder. “I wrote my brother when we departed Alexandria. Perhaps the letter has reached him, perhaps not. He has not had an address to which he could reply, so his silence means nothing. If Riya stays, there is an opportunity for communication.”

  “But not with you,” Colin pointed out. “You could send but rarely—if ever—receive letters. What if she falls ill? How can you trust she is safe with you so far away?”

  Deb was silent for so long that Colin feared he had truly insulted his friend. But then he shook his head. “That does not bear thinking about. I can no more ensure that she is healthy in London than I could whilst we crossed the ocean. What must be considered is whether we can give her what she wants. If we find the treasure—the real treasure—we could give Riya a small amount. Something that will see her comfortably through the winter, at least.”

  “We are not going to find the treasure.” Colin had said so a dozen times now. The first time, he had sincerely meant it. But he had meant it a little less every time since. And now… Honestly, now the words felt like an outright lie. “But the marquess will pay us handsomely, nonetheless. We will figure something out for Riya.”

  Colin sighed deeply. He would miss her. She was quite fastidious, which ought to have been a mark against her, but in truth it had saved their collective hides on more than one occasion. And he enjoyed her company. “I suppose it is better this way. You’re right, of course, Deb. A ship is no place for a lady. Riya will be safer here in London, even without us by her side.”

  “That wasn’t what I said,” Deb said mildly.

  But even so, it was the truth. A lady should not be forced to endure the life of a vagabond. The weeks without bathing aboard a ship, the smelly company of men, the foreign diseases, the camels that spit. Quite frankly, it was a miracle Riya had not died from the plague or a sandstorm.

  Without warning, a memory sprang to Colin’s mind. Lady Claire, her hair mussed from the vigor of their first dance, a joyful laugh on her lips. Would she laugh like that while the ship rocked upon the ocean waves? Or at her first view of a crocodile?

  He banished the thought. He would never know the answer to those questions. Lady Claire would never be aboard a ship bound for Egypt, nor ever see a crocodile. She did not belong where sandstorms and malaria threatened. She certainly did not belong with Colin.

  And he did not belong in England.

  Which meant, quite irrefutably, that he did not belong with Lady Claire.

  It was ridiculous to feel even a modicum of disappointment at this realization, considering he had never once supposed otherwise.

  And yet he was, indeed, disappointed.

  It was not that she was too good for him, because she was not. He was a good man. She was a good woman. She had more money, true, but he had seen enough of the world in his twenty-seven years to have reason to doubt money as a means to measure character. Money meant nothing.

  And still, it meant everything.

  He had been raised in hardship and learned to thrive in it. But she was an English rose, prone to wilting under harsh conditions. She could no more withstand the hot sun and stormy seas of a voyage to Egypt than he could withstand the cravats and minuets of a London ballroom.

  Which was a pity, really, because he rather thought she would prefer the former. Even if it killed her.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Claire turned the corner just in time to hear Colin say, “We are not going to find the treasure.” She took a quick step back, her heel coming down on Riya’s toe. Riya gave an indignant squeak.

  “I’m so sorry—does it hurt very much? Perhaps we ought to wait a moment before joining your brother and Mr. Smith.”

  “Why?” Riya shook her foot. “I’m starving.”

  “They’re talking about us.” Claire’s cheeks heated.

  “Of course they are. What else do men have to discuss other than the women in their lives? I do hope they have something interesting to say.” She nudged Claire aside and poked her head around the corner. “Drat, they see me. Ah, well.”

  The men rose from their chairs as Claire entered the room with Riya. She smiled at Deb as she sat down. “Was your journey pleasant, Mr. Mukherjee?” There now, she was almost certain she had said the name correctly. Either her pronunciation was much improved, or no one wanted to correct her.

  “Very pleasant, as I spent most of it asleep. And yours?”

  She glanced quickly to Colin, unsure of what she should leave unsaid. But he was frowning at his mug of ale and offered no guidance. “It was delightful. I haven’t visited the gorge since I was eleven, when I came with my father. It’s such a lovely part of England, don’t you think?”

  “Indeed.” Mr. Mukherjee’s dark eyes twinkled at her. “It is exactly where I would hide a treasure, if I were being pursued by enemies wielding spears.”

  She bit her lip. Was he jesting? She couldn’t determine the truth in his good-natured teasing. Perhaps he agreed with Colin that the treasure would not be found.

  Perhaps Colin was right. It was foolish to believe she could prevail where so many others had failed. Why should she be the first to decipher the clue in Scipio’s letter? Why should she be the one to find his hoard?

  Oh, it was all madness! Madness to think her plan would succeed, madness to think she could make Colin love her. It was the stuff of silly fairy tales. Did she truly believe they would find the buried treasure, fall in love, and live happily ever after?

  Yes. She had believed exactly that.

  Now, for the first time since their adventure had begun, she had doubts.
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  He didn’t believe in her. He had kissed her, yet he still did not believe in her.

  And he was the expert, at least in matters of treasure hunting…and probably kissing, as well. If he thought they would fail, why should she believe otherwise?

  …

  The next morning, Claire did something she had only done once before: She told a lie.

  “I am not well,” she told Riya. “Perhaps you should take the day to explore the area with your brother and Mr. Smith? It is a beautiful place for a picnic. We can begin our hunt for Scipio’s hoard tomorrow.”

  “But of course I will stay here with you, if you are not well,” Riya protested.

  “You must not put yourself out for me. There is no reason for you to miss out on a bit of fun. Meg will see that I am comfortable.” Claire gave a dainty sneeze. “I am only a little tired from the journey, that is all, and my head is full of cotton. I’ll be right as rain on the morrow, you’ll see.”

  Claire waited an hour. When she was quite sure her friends had departed, she threw back the quilt and leaped from the bed.

  “My lady!” Meg, who had been occupying the only chair in the room, rose to her feet. “What are you doing? If you are not well, you should stay in bed and rest.”

  “I am perfectly fine, Meg. Let’s go find Scipio’s treasure, shall we?” As she spoke, she tossed aside her wrapper. “Help me dress.”

  Meg crossed her arms firmly. “No, my lady, I will not help you dress because we are not going to the caves without Mr. Smith and Mister— Mister— His friend.”

  “Then I shall go in my night rail.”

  “You wouldn’t.” Meg groaned. “Oh, you would!”

  “Yes, I would.” Claire gave her maid an apologetic smile.

  Meg helped her dress in a blue cotton frock and sturdy half-boots, then tied her hair in a serviceable knot at the nape of her neck. It wasn’t what Colin would wear to explore a cave, but Colin was a man. If she had to wear a dress, it might as well be the color of a summer sky. Any other color would get just as dirty.

  “I suppose we will need tools of some sort,” she mused. “Surely, Mr. Smith won’t mind if we borrow something?”

  Meg groaned again, but Claire ignored her. She opened the connecting door, expecting to find his room empty, but instead came face-to-face with the man himself, his fist raised as though to knock.

  He blinked, startled.

  She blinked back.

  “Claire?” he asked uncertainly, as though she might not truly be herself. “What are you doing?”

  “I thought you had gone with Riya and Mr. Mukherjee,” she said by way of an answer.

  “I stayed behind.” His gaze travelled over her, taking in her boots and hair. He frowned. “In case you needed someone to fetch a doctor.”

  Damn the man and his good intentions. “Well. I do not need a doctor.”

  “So I see.”

  “I’ll be going back to bed now.” She started to close the door, but his hand shot out, holding it steady.

  “You didn’t answer my question, my lady. What are you doing?”

  His gaze pinned her in place. How could she lie to him? She was quite certain his penetrating eyes saw right through her.

  Her shoulders slumped. “I’m going to find the treasure.”

  “You intended to go without me.” His lips thinned into an angry red line. A lock of golden hair fell across his forehead as he lowered his head to glower at her. “Damn it, I promised your father you would be safe, and despite your attempts to thwart me, I shall keep that promise. Wait here while I get my things.”

  “Hmm,” she said. That might give her a quarter hour to escape.

  His eyes narrowed. “Make sure she doesn’t leave without me, Meg. Sit on her if you have to.”

  “Oh, I will, sir,” the maid piped up.

  Claire spun around to glare at her. “Et tu, Meg?”

  Meg clucked her tongue. “None of those nonsense words, my lady. I must say, going into a cave is an unpleasant business and best avoided at any time, but to go by yourself is plain madness, that’s what I think. I won’t stand for it.”

  Claire sighed. A feeling of helplessness came over her. This was really happening. She was going to lead him to the cave where the treasure should be. And if the treasure wasn’t there, it would all be over. He would know she was a fool, just as he had always suspected.

  And she would lose him.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “This is it,” Claire said. “You see how the river enters the cave here? It flows through several chambers from what I understand, although I have never been past the first.”

  “Farther than any lady ought to go,” Meg cut in. “If you don’t mind, my lady, I’ll wait right here. If you aren’t back in three hours, I will arrange a search party.”

  “All right, Meg. Three hours.”

  Colin adjusted the pack on his shoulder and gestured to her. “Shall we?”

  Claire hesitated there at the mouth of the cave. Behind her lay soft green grass and brilliant sunshine. Ahead of her lay darkness. And despair, probably. The end of all her hopes and dreams.

  Best to get on with it, then.

  She stepped forward, using a lantern to guide her.

  “What I don’t understand,” Colin said conversationally as he followed her into the dark, “is why you decided to go alone. Did you want the treasure all for yourself?”

  She gave an indignant huff. He thought she intended to cheat him out of his share? Did he really think so ill of her?

  “But no,” he mused. “Anything you found would go to the Crown, and the reward to your father.”

  She turned to face him, one hand on her hip, the other holding the lantern so that he might see the serious expression of her face. “And I wouldn’t do such a thing.”

  “No.” There was a glimmer of laughter in Colin’s eyes. “Emeralds turn your skin sallow. Perhaps you think gold unflattering, as well.”

  He was mocking her. She gave another huff and began to walk again.

  “Claire,” he called after her. “We go no farther until you answer the question.”

  She stopped. “Haven’t I done so?”

  His eyebrows lifted. Slowly, never taking his gaze from hers, he lowered the pack from his shoulder. He leaned against the wall of the cave and crossed one leg over the other, as though he had all the time in the world.

  She sighed. “What if we don’t find the treasure?” she asked hesitantly.

  His demeanor changed instantly, as though she had suggested that perhaps the sun would not rise, after all. He straightened and regarded her warily. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean…perhaps we won’t find it.”

  For a moment he said nothing. And then, “That is the nature of treasure hunting, unfortunately. If there were no risk, everyone would do it. My ventures have not always been successful. Sometimes we found what we were looking for. Sometimes we did not. Sometimes we found something else entirely.”

  She nodded but said nothing.

  “Your father will pay me for my time regardless of whether we find Scipio’s hoard. You needn’t worry about that,” he assured her. “I’ll be no worse off for our hunt. Neither will you. You will be a little disappointed, that is all. Is that so terrible?”

  He took her hand. Longing curled through her. Why couldn’t they always be together as they were now, hand-in-hand?

  “I have never failed to get what I want,” she confessed. “I suppose because I have never truly wanted for anything. But this… I want this very much. I don’t know how I shall bear it if it can never be mine.”

  He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her gloved fingertips. “It already is yours, love. Admit it. You never truly cared about the treasure itself. You wanted an adventure, an escape from your ordinary day. Now here you are, in a dark cave, alone with a man quite determined to take liberties with your person. Is that not a grand adventure?”

  “Oh,” she said,
somewhat breathlessly. It was all she had time to say before his mouth claimed hers.

  He kissed her thoroughly and without pretense. This was not a gentleman’s kiss. It was not a slow banking of flame, it was an explosion of all-consuming fire. She clung to the lantern with one hand and to his neck with her other. His chest rose on a hard breath.

  He ripped his mouth away so suddenly that she lost her balance. His arms tightened around her waist to steady her. She leaned in, seeking his mouth, but he turned his face away and her lips landed on the hinge of his jaw instead. She kissed him there. A tremor went through his body, so she did it again.

  He gave a groaning laugh. “No, please. Adventure, not ruination, remember? And you have still not answered my question.”

  Stubborn man. “Because I realized I am not certain of finding the treasure, and if I am to fail, I would rather you not bear witness to my failure. It would be abominable to hear you say I told you so.”

  He went still in her arms. “Why would I say that?”

  “Because you did tell me so. Over and over again. The first time was when you refused to help me. The second time was at the dance. The third time—”

  “Enough.” He scowled at her. “What nonsense.”

  “But you said—”

  “I know what I said. But what I believe is quite a different matter. I don’t know for certain we will find the treasure any more than you do. Perhaps the cave flooded at some point in the last thousand years and the jewels were washed away. Floods are not uncommon here. Neither are thieves. Even so, I’d put the odds at ten to one in your favor.”

  She blinked. Did he think so? Truly?

  “It doesn’t seem like the sort of thing that would happen to me, finding treasure,” she said softly. “Perhaps it would happen to Riya or Adelaide. Exciting things happen to women like that. Not to me.”

  Colin stared at her, baffled, before bursting into laughter. “Happen to you, love? Not a single part of this has happened to you. You have been the cause of every step we’ve taken, from the very first. You maddening, brilliant, stubborn, wonderful woman. If we find the treasure, it will be because you made it happen, because you can make anything happen. Don’t ever let anyone convince you otherwise.” He tilted her chin up to meet his gaze. “Especially not me.”