Amber (Jewel Trilogy, Book 3)

by Royal, Lauren

  She mustered a weak smile. "I don't think that's the way they're meant to be worn. Rather scandalous, don't you think?"

  "At King Charles's court? Not a soul would even take notice." But he drew them off and bunched them in a hand, meeting her lips for a desperate kiss.

  There was something about him tonight...something about the way his tongue swept her mouth, the way his hands worshipped her body, the way he molded his flesh to match every curve of hers. Something. Something that made her feel, even though he was more of a man than she'd known existed, that somewhere inside lurked a lost little boy. Waiting to get hurt.

  So she was gentle tonight, and he was gentle in return, running the bunched pearls over her skin in a heavenly, softly clicking massage. Guided by his hand, they rolled between her breasts and over a hip and down to her thighs. Her own hands skimmed his skin, soothing, everywhere she could reach. She sighed into his mouth, and his tongue stroked hers, more softly than she could remember, so cherishing that tears welled in her eyes and threatened to slip between her closed lids.

  "Open for me, leannan." A thick, velvet-edged whisper, his voice sent a gust of desire shuddering through her. And because she wanted to please him, she did what he asked, parting her legs until she lay there, flat on the bed, wantonly open and ready. Then gasped when he drew the pearls, that long, long strand, agonizingly slowly between them.

  She felt every pearl distinctly, felt herself moisten as they slipped. She wanted him there, filling her where she ached. "Oh, God, Trick."

  "Hush," he murmured, nuzzling her throat. He suckled her breasts, her nipples rising to hard points that he circled with his tongue. While down below, the pearls continued their exquisite trail along where she wanted him, deep inside.

  This was torment, but oh, so sweet, each individual pearl driving her to distraction. "I cannot stand this, Trick. It's too much." She reached for his free hand, clenching it hard in hers.

  "I cannot stand it, either," he grated out, and he yanked the pearls away, coming over her to join their bodies together.

  Her rush of relief lasted mere seconds before a new sense of urgency overwhelmed her. She wrapped him with her legs, her fingers threading in his hair, little sounds escaping her throat as his hips drove every thought but him from her mind. She rocked against him, wanting him closer, closer, hearing his breath ragged in her ear. Her heart pounded against his as her hands worked down his back and lower to pull him closer still.

  If only she could climb the last of that wall and finally make them one.

  Then, for one split second of infinity, they were one.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  A long time later, Trick felt beneath the coverlet for the pearls, smiling when he found and snagged them. Drawing them out, he held them to his nose, breathing deep of her sweet scent before he dangled them above her head. "Do you like these, leannan?"

  "In more ways than I could have imagined." Her smile, soft and achingly erotic, lit his heart. "But Trick..."

  "Aye?"

  "I mostly like them because we can sell them."

  His fingers tightened around them. "No, lass. They're for you."

  She grabbed them from his hands, cradling them against her breasts. "They would feed the children for a decade, you said. No longer will you have to be a highwayman. I was going to beg you to stop anyway, Trick—I cannot stand the thought of you being hurt or caught in the act." If her smile had lit his heart, her words melted it. "It's bad of me, I know, but you're much more important than the children. To me. The most important thing in my life."

  She looked pained at that guilty admission, but not as pained as he felt inside. That she could put him above everything else...if only he hadn't the obligations that kept him from doing the same.

  If only.

  "Do you see the gift that Charles has given us?" She held it up. "We no longer have to choose between your safety and the children's welfare." Looking half-wistful, half-thrilled, she brought the pearls to her lips. "I'll sell them tomorrow. And I have other ideas as well, for how we can help more children. This—this gift—will get us started."

  Her enthusiasm was more than he could bear. Soon he could bring her to the docks, show her whichever of his ships were in port, tell her that he could support all the orphanages she wanted. Soon this would be over, and he vowed to himself he'd be honest with his wife for the rest of his life. He would never make another promise that would be this hard to keep.

  "You're not selling them tomorrow," he told her, peeling her fingers from the pearls. He lifted the strand and slipped it back over her head. "We're going home tomorrow. And I promise you, the children won't starve."

  Back at Amberley the next day, Trick barely took time to see their luggage brought in before readying himself to leave.

  Stunned, Kendra stood in their bedchamber watching him knot a fresh cravat. "We just got here."

  "I have an errand I must see to," he told her, not quite meeting her eyes.

  "An errand?" Although he was standing close, she felt as though he'd physically pulled away. "Are you going out to play the highwayman again? I told you—"

  "Nay. I'm done with that."

  And he wasn't wearing black—he'd dressed in a simple brown suit and white shirt. She should have noticed that. Her usually sharp powers of observation were dulled by disappointment.

  Just last night, she'd felt so emotionally attached. She'd thought that with everything they'd shared in Scotland and since, things would be different now. But no matter that his hair had been cut and his eyes were unshielded—he was hiding from her again.

  She backed away to sit on the gaudy red bed, her fingers going to the pearls around her neck. "If you won't sell these and you won't play the highwayman, where will we find the money for the children?"

  "I told you last night," he said, even more slowly than usual, "the children will have plenty to eat."

  "How?" Her head swirled with confusion. "Did Charles give you more than the pearls, then?"

  "You could say that," he said dryly and fell silent.

  He gazed at her for a long moment without saying anything more. Without moving. Without even blinking.

  Then determination lit his eyes and his jaw tensed with resolve. "It's time that I told you the truth," he said, moving closer. "I have plenty of money to fund the orphanage without resorting to robbery. You've no need to worry for the children, I promise. All right? Can you take my word for that?"

  The truth, he'd said. "I don't understand."

  He stepped yet closer. "When my father—the duke—died, I took the ships he'd used for smuggling and started importing with them instead. It's all legitimate. I have nine ships now and a London warehouse filled with goods from across the globe that are sold all over the country. I can well afford to support the children and anything else your heart desires."

  As though she'd been physically hit, Kendra found it hard to draw breath. "Then why did you tell me you needed to rob in order to fund the orphanage?"

  "I never said that, Kendra."

  She thought back, frantically running through their conversations in her head. "But you didn't correct me when I assumed it, either. A lie of omission is a lie, nonetheless."

  Everything she'd thought she'd gained seemed to be slipping away. She struggled to keep a hint of hysteria from her voice. "This makes no sense. Why is it, then, that you played the highwayman? Why keep doing it when you knew it worried me and my brothers had asked you to stop? For your own amusement, as you once said?"

  "Not for my amusement." Taking both her hands, he drew her to stand before him, his gaze filled with silent apology. "I had reasons, good reasons, but...I'm sorry, leannan. There are things I cannot tell you."

  "Why?"

  "I just cannot. You'll have to trust me." His knuckles skimmed her cheek. "Once you promised you'd trust me. Has that changed?"

  Her memory flashed on that day in the dungeon, and she blushed hot. But that had been in Scotland, where they'd sp
ent every day, almost every minute, together. Where he hadn't kept secrets, so far as she could tell, and where they'd grown close and learned to be easy with each other.

  Yet literally the moment they'd stepped foot in Amberley, everything had gone back to the way it had been before they left. She'd thought she'd gotten through to him—that his wall was nearly down—but that clearly wasn't the case. Not here. How could they have any kind of marriage when he insisted on holding back?

  She wished they'd never come home.

  "I'm trying to trust you," she told him. "But it's very hard."

  "It's hard for me, too. You must believe that, lass. Just let me finish what I must do to put this all behind us."

  And with one kiss, so heartfelt it left her reeling, he was out the door.

  It hadn't quite been a lie. Charles had given him more than the pearls—he'd given him orders not to tell his own wife what he was doing.

  Bloody obstinate man.

  Though Trick never thought he'd be cursing his king, he did so all the way to the cottage to fetch his papers.

  From there he traveled two villages over to meet the contact Charles had arranged for, a man going by the absurd name of Zephaniah Pendregast and posing as a Puritan. On the ride, Trick switched from cursing Charles to railing at himself.

  What an idiot he'd been to tell Kendra about his shipping company. He'd thought it would help to come clean with as much of the truth as he could, to relieve her mind where the children were concerned, at least. But he'd gravely miscalculated. He'd seen the doubt and confusion come into her eyes, and it had made him sick inside.

  He had no experience with being in love, and he was doing it all wrong.

  The foundations they'd built in Scotland were crumbling out from under him. He could only hope this mission would come to an end before those foundations eroded entirely. Hope there'd still be enough left upon which they could rebuild trust.

  Hope his loyalty to the king wouldn't cost him his future.

  Trick had sent a messenger before him, so Pendregast was waiting in back of the blacksmith's shop where Charles's men had arranged for his temporary employment.

  "I hope it's damn good news you bring," Pendregast said, dropping his proper Puritan speech the moment they were out of earshot. He was tall and lean, dark haired with a long, hollowed-out face. The blows of hammer on anvil rang in the background as they paced together into the fields behind the town's High Street shops. "I'm bloody bored in this swiving establishment."

  "It's sorry I am for the delay. I was called out of the country. In any case"—Trick pulled the roll of papers from his surcoat—"I have your descriptions."

  They pored over the pages together, Pendregast asking questions and Trick answering as well as he could remember.

  "So do you know these men?" Trick finally asked.

  "I've attended enough secret meetings to last a lifetime, I'll warrant you that. This description here"—Pendregast stabbed a finger at one of Trick's pages—"seems familiar. And one other. I'll ask around, see what I can find. I'll be in touch."

  Trick walked him back to the smithy, where they shook hands. "I'll be glad to have this behind me."

  "No more than I," Pendregast grated out through the fake smile he put on his face as he reentered the shop.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  Knowing he'd have to leave Kendra home alone soon, Trick spent a tense couple of days tiptoeing around her, avoiding her hurt gaze while wracking his brain for a plausible explanation that wouldn't cause even more pain and distrust. Mostly he kept out of the house, acquainting himself with his estate—which was a fair enough use of his time, considering he now planned to be here more than he'd once thought.

  Life near the docks in London now held little appeal. His new plan was to manage the company through correspondence plus regular jaunts to the City to check up on matters, bringing Kendra along with him. Eventually Niall might become involved as well. Having discovered a family, Trick found himself entertaining grand ideas. Expanding his company to include ships based in Scotland was just the start.

  Both nights he delayed coming home until Kendra was in bed, when the darkness would save him from meeting her eyes. In those wee hours, he tried to tell her with his body what he couldn't say with words. And if her blissful sighs were laced with a touch of disillusionment, he could only remind himself that things would be better soon.

  A terse message finally arrived: Meet me seven a.m. Saturday at the home of John Garrick. Z.P.

  John Garrick? Trick wondered. Was he working for Charles, too? Well, at least this would give him a solid excuse to spend the weekend away. Kendra shouldn't question a card party at Garrick's—a house party her own brothers regularly attended. With any luck, she'd happily send him off.

  Evidently, however, luck wasn't on his side.

  "So soon?" she asked when he found her going over menus in the kitchen. She turned to the cook. "Will you excuse me a moment, Mrs. Brown?"

  Dejection dulled her eyes as she led Trick to the butler's pantry, then, finding it occupied by two maids polishing silver, all the way into the deserted two-story dining room. One foot tapping on the black-and-white checkered marble floor, she stared up at the plasterwork ceiling, studying the painted scenes there as though they might hold the answers to her problem.

  Her problem being him, of course.

  "We've been home less than a week," she said.

  As she lowered her gaze to meet his, he shifted on his feet. "The card weekends have become tradition. It's been months since the last one, ever since our marriage. The men have been awaiting my return."

  She ran a fingertip along the carved and gilded mantel. The old duke had really outdone himself gussying up this chamber. "Trick, I'm..." He watched her draw a deep breath. "I feel like I've lost you since we returned home."

  "I'm right here." He forced a smile.

  "You've been out and about doing God knows what. Why can't we spend some time together? Shouldn't our marriage come before a card game?"

  "It's already planned," he said, wishing he could find a way to make her feel as loved and secure as she deserved. He wanted that more than he wanted to breathe.

  But first he had to complete the mission. He was so close. He'd already sent a message to King Charles saying the time had arrived to set their final plans into motion.

  Soon he would be free.

  The next morning found him leaving his sweet wife abed with a gentle kiss to her forehead. When faced with her disappointed sigh, he reminded himself why he was doing this.

  These counterfeiters were undermining the economy, threatening the newly restored monarchy. He owed this to his country; he'd made promises to his king.

  If a tinge of unease stayed lodged in his gut, he was determined to ignore it.

  An hour later, he arrived at Garrick's estate to find Pendregast waiting along the road, he and his horse hidden behind a hedge that concealed them from the mansion.

  "What gives?" Trick asked, reining in Chaucer. "Why aren't you inside?"

  "We cannot just walk in and make an arrest. We need some damning evidence first. Have you any ideas how to gain entry?"

  "We might try knocking on the door." Trick peeked through the hedge. "Is Garrick in on this or not? How many men has Charles roped into this operation?"

  "Just we two. Garrick is the suspect."

  "John Garrick? A counterfeiter?" When Trick jerked upright at the thought, Chaucer danced beneath him. "Are you certain?"

  "Not entirely. He could be just another link in the chain. But that description you gave me that sounded familiar? I asked around, found the man, and followed him for two-and-a-half days, until finally he led me here. Was in and out in five minutes. Then I hid for a while, and another man arrived. Didn't match any of your notes, but he was in and out in five minutes, too."

  "So if Garrick isn't doing it himself..."

  "I'm assuming he's involved in the distribution at the very least. But we need proof.
"

  Trick's mind reeled, remembering Garrick's preachiness, his edginess, the way he always seemed to be snooping around. A closet Parliamentarian?

  Damn. It could very well be. That would teach him to move into an area and start blindly socializing with the neighbors. He could have brought Garrick and the others to the cottage someday. They could have seen his props.

  Damn.

  "We need an excuse to get in," Pendregast said. "He has too many servants to simply wait until he leaves. People are always around."

  "I can gain us entry. I know him. And he owes me a meal."

  "Pardon?"

  Trick patted his stomach. "Breakfast."

  "Mrs. Kendra? Were you not going to tell us about Clytie?"

  With a sigh, Kendra flipped the page in the wonderful book of lesser-known myths she'd discovered in Amberley's double-leveled library. At least she'd thought it was wonderful last month when she found it. Today, reading from it, it didn't seem so wonderful at all.

  Once she'd thought that attaining her dream, the orphanage, would be enough. But she'd been wrong. Working with the children was fulfilling, but it didn't mend the hole in her heart that had opened when Trick left her this morning.

  Dragging her attention back to the children, she smiled at their rapt expressions.

  "Clytie loved the Sun God—"

  "Apollo?" Andrew asked.

  "Excellent memory," she said, trying not to sound annoyed at the interruption. Every little thing seemed to annoy her these past few days. "But for this story we think of him as the Sun God. You see, he found nothing to love in Clytie, and so she pined away, sitting on the ground out-of-doors where she could watch him. And she would turn her face, following him with her eyes as he journeyed over the sky. And so gazing, she found herself changed into the sunflower, which ever turns toward the sun."

  "Did he ever love her?" a chestnut-haired girl asked.

  Kendra met her big brown eyes. "I'm afraid not." She sighed. "Clytie loved him with all her heart, but he could never return her feelings."