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An Unexpected Pleasure

Page 23

by Candace Camp


  Megan set her jaw. She had no explanation she was willing to offer for either of the incidents, so she decided it would be best to say nothing.

  “You and I both know that you are no teacher. The twins are aware of it, as well, even though they both pleaded with me not to reveal that fact to our mother. But you know less Greek than they do, and your Latin is a trifle rusty. As for science and mathematics…” He shrugged eloquently.

  Again Megan said nothing. As a reporter, she had long ago learned that people were usually better off to remain silent. It was their inability to keep from justifying their actions or making up lies to cover what had really happened that led them into saying much more than they ever wanted to.

  When she did not answer, Theo grimaced and swung out of his chair, pacing about the room. He turned back to her and shot out, “Who is the Irishman you went to see on your day off?”

  Megan’s eyes widened in astonishment. “What? How did you—” Then, as it settled in on her how he must have found out that she had gone to see her father and Deirdre, anger spurted up in her. “You followed me? How dare you?”

  She jumped to her feet, fists clenched, letting the bundle of ice fall unheeded from her wound. “You have no right to follow me. I am an employee here, not a slave! What I do on my day off is my business, not yours.”

  Megan remembered the eerie feeling that she was being watched. She had seen no one when she turned around, but, then, she had not really known what she was looking for. Still, surely she would have noticed if Theo was lurking somewhere behind her. “No, of course, it wasn’t you. You wouldn’t dirty your hands with work like that. Doubtless you hired someone.”

  There was no guilt on his face, only a faint amusement, and that spiked Megan’s anger even higher.

  “You find this funny?” she snapped. “You dare to laugh at me?”

  “My dear Megan, what I find humorous is your self-righteous indignation at my having someone follow you. It sits a little oddly on a thief. Did you seriously think that I would sit back and do nothing to protect my family? That I was so besotted by you that I would let you hurt—”

  “Your family!” Megan exclaimed. “I would never endanger your family! Are you mad?”

  “No, I don’t believe that you would yourself physically harm the twins or my mother and father. No doubt you mean only to take things from them, things that you feel they can live without—indeed, will scarcely notice are gone. In that respect, you are right—material things being stolen will not cut deeply with them, although my father is exceedingly attached to his collection. However, surely you could not believe that your betrayal of their trust would not hurt. Constantine and Alexander admire you. So does my mother, who thinks you are forging forward in the fight for women’s rights. Kyria and Olivia have—”

  “I know! I know how much they have done for me. I don’t want to hurt them.”

  Theo was pleased to see the real regret and sorrow that lay in Megan’s eyes. He had worried that he was somehow mistaken in her, that she was only playing a part, the feelings he had seen in her merely acting, not reality.

  However, he could not hold back now, could not let her slide away. He had to make her tell him the truth.

  “Just because you intend them no physical harm does not mean that your cohorts feel the same. I don’t know who they are or what they intend, but obviously someone who is involved with you has no compunction about hurting people.”

  “What?” Megan looked at him, confused. “What are you talking about?”

  He gestured toward her head. “Someone obviously tried to harm you tonight. And someone else was following you the other day, someone besides my man.”

  Megan stared at him, suddenly speechless. She could barely take in the meaning of his words. “What? There was another man following me?”

  “Yes. Tom Quick—he is the man I hired to follow you—told me that he saw another man trailing you, as well. Who was it, Megan? One of your associates who doesn’t trust you? A rival? Or perhaps someone whom you have deceived in the past and who is seeking revenge?”

  “What? You’re mad. He was mistaken.”

  “I think not. Tom is clever, and very loyal to this family. He would not lie to me, and I doubt he made any mistake. Someone wants to harm you, Megan. That’s clear enough from what happened tonight. What is to stop him from trying again—or doing worse? If you have no care for yourself, you might think of the boys. What if the twins are with you the next time he decides to attack you? I cannot be with you every moment. No matter how close I’ve stayed to you for the last week, I could not prevent that attack on you tonight.”

  “No! It’s not true. You are just trying to scare me away from here!” Megan responded. She wasn’t about to add that he was doing a very good job of it. “No one is trying to harm me. The only enemy I have is you!”

  “Are you suggesting that it was I who knocked you on the head tonight?” Theo’s eyes flashed with a hard, bright fury, and his jaw set, color flaring on his razor-sharp cheekbones. “Do you honestly believe that I sneaked up behind you and cracked you on the head? Why would I do that?”

  “To stop me—you’ve just been talking about stopping me. How you won’t let me hurt your family.”

  “I must say, if you thought I was the one who hit you on the head tonight, you were remarkably foolish to ride home alone with me,” Theo retorted heatedly.

  Megan opened her mouth, then closed it, aware that she had no response for that. She had thought about the very thing he mentioned, but she had dismissed it, rationalizing her actions by saying that he would do nothing with all his family knowing he had been alone with her. It occurred to her now that deep inside she had not really had any fear of Theo.

  He cocked an eyebrow at her. “You see? You were not frightened of me. You know I didn’t hurt you. Let us say I were the sort of person who would hit a woman over the head in order to get her out of my house. It would still be a most roundabout way to do it. However much the duchess likes you, don’t you think she would let you go if I wanted her to? All I would have to do is reveal the fraud you have been committing against our family, and you would be out the door immediately.”

  “Then why haven’t you?” Megan retorted, with a little stab of hurt at his words. “Clearly you despise me. You want me gone.”

  “Want you gone?” Theo let out a short laugh, raking one hand back through his hair. “Are you that blind?”

  He crossed over to her in two long strides, his hands coming out to grasp her shoulders. Megan set her jaw mutinously and looked up at him, determined not to let him see how he affected her.

  It made her blood pound in her veins to be this close to him. She could feel the heat of his body, and memories of the other times he had been this close flooded her mind. She could not keep out the images of him wrapping his arms around her and crushing her against him. She remembered the feel of his long, muscled body, his heart thudding so fiercely in his chest that she could feel it through her own flesh. She remembered the taste of him on her mouth, the soft insistence of his lips, the passion pulsing and burgeoning inside her until she thought she would explode.

  She saw the desire darken his eyes now, and he lowered his head, resting his forehead against hers, his shoulders moving as though to draw himself around her, enclose her. Megan trembled, her breath coming hard and fast. She wanted to lean into him, to melt against him and feel his arms tighten around her. She closed her eyes, trying to will away her treacherous feelings.

  “I don’t want you out of this house,” he said quietly. “Why do you think I have protected your secret—at a risk to my own family? All I can think about, all I want, is to have you here…to have you in my bed. Good God, Megan, you fill my head…my senses…everything inside me.”

  His words, uttered in that husky, passion-thickened voice, resonated all through her. Her body yearned for him, her breasts full and aching, her loins melting. Desire for him was a need within her, a desperate hunger.r />
  “Megan…” he murmured, his lips brushing her forehead, her cheek, trailing down across the soft skin, as he whispered her name over and over, in plea or incantation.

  Her skin tingled wherever his lips touched it, anticipation building, throbbing within her. She knew the feel of his lips on hers, and she wanted it again, with a deep ache, until it seemed as if the world hung motionless, waiting…yearning…

  And then his mouth was on hers, and their lips were melding together. Megan made a low, moaning noise deep in her throat as she moved the last few remaining inches closer. His arms wrapped around her tightly, and he lifted her up into him, their mouths locked. She wound her arms around his neck, clinging to him, uncaring that her feet dangled inches off the floor or that she was crushed so hard against him she could scarcely breathe.

  She was dizzy with the taste, the scent, the feel of him, her senses exploding in a paroxysm of delight. Her fingers dug into the cloth of his coat, wanting to feel his flesh, his heat. Heat throbbed between her legs, and she was aware of a wild urge to wrap them around him, to press herself against him and ease the ache within her.

  He tore his mouth from hers, kissing his way down the side of her neck, nibbling at the cord and sending heat spearing down through her to explode in her abdomen. Letting her slide back down his body to the ground, he allowed his hands to roam over her, cupping her buttocks and pressing her into the hard evidence of his desire.

  “Megan…” he panted. “Let me help you. Tell me. Trust me. Please.”

  His words pierced the haze of her desire. Megan stiffened, appalled at what she was doing, what she was allowing him to do.

  With a low cry, she wrenched herself away from him. “Trust you? Is that what you are doing? Is that what this is about?”

  He blinked, stunned by the sudden change in her. “What?”

  “You think that you can get around me like this?” Megan shook with her anger, all the more incensed because she was aware of how easily he could sway her, make her forget everything except the feel of his lips on hers. “That you can make me throw everything away? Give it all up for the sake of your kisses?”

  He let out a low groan. “Dammit, Megan, what are you talking about? I am not trying to get around you. I want you. I can help you. Whatever you are involved in, I can—”

  “No! No!” She turned away, raising shaking hands to her head. “It’s not that easy. I’m not that easy.” She turned to face him, her hands clenched at her sides, her whole body quivering under the force of her emotions. “You cannot turn me away from this. I know what you are. What you have done!”

  Theo stared at her, bewildered. “What I have done? What are you talking about? I’ve done nothing except offer you my protection—”

  “I don’t want your protection!” Megan shot back, indignation stiffening her resolve. She knew very well what it meant when a gentleman offered to take a woman of common background, a woman he could not marry, under his “protection.” “What gall you have! You think that you can make me your mistress and I will keep quiet?”

  Theo’s eyes widened, and he started toward her. “Megan! No! I did not—”

  Megan backed up a step, holding out her hand as if to stop him, the words rushing out of her in a torrent of guilt and anger. “It makes me ill to think that I let you touch me! I hate you!”

  He came to a quick halt, and his face paled, the hand he had been reaching toward her dropping to his side. “You made a damn good pretense of feeling otherwise, then,” he said in a tight voice.

  Pain pierced Megan at the look on his face, and she wanted suddenly to cry.

  “I could not feel anything else,” she said, her voice cracking on the words, “for the man who murdered my brother.”

  CHAPTER 15

  There was a moment of profound silence. Theo gazed at her as blankly as if she had spoken in a foreign language. He started to speak, then stopped, and finally said, “What?”

  There was no calling it back now, Megan knew. She straightened and said, “You were right. Henderson is not my real name. My name is Mulcahey, Megan Mulcahey.”

  “All right,” he said slowly. “But who—”

  “Do you not even remember his name?” Megan snapped. “My brother was Dennis Mulcahey.”

  “Dennis!” He stared at her. “You are Dennis’s sister?” Suddenly, incredibly, a faint smile touched his lips. “Yes, I can see it now. Your eyes…So that was why you came—” He stopped abruptly, and his face changed from astonishment to outrage. “Wait! What the devil are you talking about, murdered your brother? You think I murdered Dennis?”

  “I know it.”

  “That’s impossible,” he declared. “Since it didn’t happen. Where in the name of all that’s holy did you get that idea?”

  “From a reliable source.”

  “Not very,” he shot back. “I was there. I know what happened, unlike this ‘source’ of yours.” He turned away, pushing his hands back into his hair, and paced away from her, then swung back. “I wrote your father. I told him what happened. Did he not receive it?”

  “Oh, yes, he got your note informing him that his son had died in an ‘accident.’”

  Theo looked abashed. “I’m sorry. I should have written something longer. I was ill, tired, but I felt I needed to let Mr. Mulcahey know about Dennis as soon as I could. So I sent that short letter with the bare facts. I should have written a more detailed letter after I recovered.” He sighed. “It was wrong of me. My family will tell you how poor I am at letters. I tried—many times—to write again. To explain what had happened and what sorrow I felt at losing Dennis. But nothing ever seemed adequate. I was—I confess I could not bear to think about Dennis’s death.”

  “That is not surprising,” Megan retorted tartly.

  He frowned. “But did not Andrew write you? I saw him not long after we returned, and he told me that he had written to your father, as well. I was a coward, I admit, and felt relief that he had explained it in more detail. That is one reason why I did not send any of the letters I wrote.”

  “Yes, he explained it. He has explained it to me in person, as well.”

  Theo looked at her, understanding dawning in his eyes. “Are you saying that Barchester told you I killed Dennis?”

  “That is exactly what I’m saying.”

  Theo gaped at her. In any other situation, she would have found his expression comical.

  “He told you I murdered Dennis!” Shock gave way to anger. “That bloody son of a bitch! Why would he have told you such a thing? Dammit all, he wasn’t even there!”

  “What? You’re saying Andrew Barchester wasn’t even on the trip with you and Dennis?” Megan asked skeptically.

  “No. I mean, yes, he was on the expedition with us, but he was not there when Dennis died. He would have had to make this up out of whole cloth.”

  Hope stirred in Megan’s chest. Had Barchester lied to them all along? Could Theo be telling the truth? Firmly she tamped down her emotion. She was not going to let Theo deceive her just because she wanted to believe that he was innocent. It was vital that she remain objective.

  Crossing her arms across her chest, she said, “Then why don’t you tell me what happened.”

  He regarded her for a moment, then said, “All right. As I suppose you know, I was in Brazil on an expedition for Lord Cavendish—the chap who started the museum. Julian Coffey and Mr. Barchester were with me. The man who was to lead our expedition could not. Then we met up with your brother and his companion, a Captain Eberhart, who was an experienced guide. So we joined together and started up the Amazon.”

  “Mr. Barchester told me how Captain Eberhart died and the rest of you forged ahead.”

  “Yes. We had gone so far that we did not want to abandon the expedition. Coffey was thrilled with the variety of flora and fauna he was able to sketch. We were all young and enthusiastic.” A faint smile touched his lips as he remembered. “We were enjoying the adventure. Dennis—well, he was ready f
or anything. He and I grew quite close.”

  “It seems unlikely. A lower-class American, a British aristocrat.”

  Theo looked at her. “No more unlikely than you and I.”

  Color stained Megan’s cheeks, and she looked away. “We are not talking of—of physical attraction.”

  “No. We are talking of friendship,” he replied soberly. “And Dennis and I became friends. I do not choose my friends on the basis of their birth or their bank accounts. Neither did Dennis. He was a great fellow, always full of stories and laughter and good cheer.”

  Tears filled Megan’s eyes at the accurate description of her brother. “Yes. He was.”

  “I am sorry, Megan.” Theo came closer to her, reaching out as though to touch her arm, then halted halfway there and let his hand fall. “I know how much you must have loved him. I remember him talking about you. He said I would like you.” He paused, then added softly, “Obviously he was right.”

  Megan swallowed against the emotions that rose in her throat. She straightened her shoulders and faced Theo squarely. “What happened then?”

  “After Eberhart’s death, the native bearers and guides grew more and more reluctant to travel farther inland. They were full of fears and superstitions. They talked of the ancient gods wreaking vengeance on all who dared disturb their sacred places. They whispered of treasures and curses. We had all heard stories about the gold that Pizarro demanded from the Incas—” He paused, asking, “You know, do you not, about the Spaniards conquering the Inca empire? How Pizarro and his men captured the Inca emperor and held him ransom for a vast amount of gold?”

  Megan nodded. “Yes.”

  “There were legends, as there always are in such cases, that some of the Incas who were bringing the gold decided not to turn it over to the Spanish but to hide it somewhere in the mountains. Hidden treasure, protected by the curse of the old gods. Pretty irresistible stuff, especially to several young men. Naturally, we hoped we would stumble upon it. The native bearers feared exactly the same thing. Some of them left, sneaking away in the night—with some of our supplies. Of course, with the number of natives dwindling, as well as our supplies, we had to be very careful not to get lost. There was a vast amount of territory—uncharted territory. That is why we set up a system of searching.”

 

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