The Price of Temptation

by Harmony Williams

  She pulled back, holding her sister by the shoulders. “What happened? What did he say when he saw you?”

  Willa beamed, dividing her gaze between Lily and her older sister. “Sophie was brilliant. She told him we wouldn’t be giving him the artifact.”

  Lily sucked in her breath, her enthusiasm visibly dimming. “What did he say?”

  Sophie raised her eyebrows. “What do you think he said? He threatened to turn our debts over to the appropriate people.”

  Grinning, Willa added, “To which Sophie told him that if he tried we would seek legal action. After all, he was trying to coerce you into stealing for him. I don’t imagine Bow Street would like that very much.”

  She sounded so smug that Adam couldn’t help but smile. He doubted the matter would be as easily solved, but her enthusiasm was infectious. For the first time since he walked back into Lily’s life, he had confidence that she would be all right when this was all over.

  Sophie shushed her. “Hurry, let’s go to bed before Mama wakes up and asks where we’ve been. We’ll tell you everything in the morning.”

  Lily embraced her sisters again, thanking them for their help before she turned to him, wearing the most winsome smile he’d ever seen. The urge to hold her welled in him. He succumbed, swinging her into his arms and carrying her from the room.

  Her sisters laughed behind them. Adam paid them no mind, the sound growing dimmer as he took the stairs two at a time. When he reached the bedchamber, he nudged it open with his boot. He kicked it closed, the thud ringing in the air.

  Lily winced. “Ada— Ah!” She lost her breath as he dropped her onto the bed. The mattress swung as he followed. She pushed herself up on her elbows, opening her mouth to chide him. He took full advantage, laying himself over her and kissing her with every fiber of his being.

  Her stiff body relaxed beneath him. Her mouth softened. She twined her fingers around his neck, teasing the hairs at his nape while pulling him closer. It wasn’t nearly close enough. He rocked against her, parting her thighs to rub his erection against the crux. She moaned, lifting herself in a matching rhythm.

  The desire to watch her drove him mad. With one last thrust and parry of their tongues, he pulled himself away to light a candle.

  “Adam?”

  It took him a few short seconds, his breath coming in pants. The future weighed on him, but he thrust it aside to focus on this one moment between them. When he turned, she had propped herself onto her elbows, her hair escaping its pins and falling around her face and neck in controlled disarray. He itched to remove the other pins and free it entirely.

  As he stalked toward the bed, he devoured Lily with his gaze. Her plain dress hugged her figure, showing him every swell and valley. As he joined her on the bed, she reached for him, happy and unrestrained.

  His chest tightened. As he plucked the pins from her hair, he whispered, “Have I told you that you’re the most beautiful woman in the world?”

  She snorted. “Have I told you that you don’t need to woo me anymore? I’m yours, Adam. For the rest of our lives.”

  For a moment, he couldn’t speak. Her hair tumbled around her shoulders in curls. It spread over the pillow as she lay back, her eyes dark with invitation. He ran the silken strands through his fingers, reveling in the way it felt against his skin.

  “I love you.”

  His voice was thick, but she didn’t seem to mind. Her smile grew. “I love you, too.”

  The urgency to claim her gripped him in its eagle’s claws. He kissed her, voracious and insatiable. Their tongues dueled. He pulled away to suck at her throat, wanting to mark her as his for the world to know.

  Slowly. He gently tongued the red mark he’d left, soothing it. She clung to his shoulders, spreading her legs to better cradle him between. He wanted her hard and fast, searching for a pinnacle that would erase the doubts still swirling inside his head.

  Instead, he vowed to make love as if this were their last time together. He took her mouth in a deep, savoring kiss. With achingly slow sweeps of his hands, he traced every curve of her body. The fabric between them stifled his touch. He found the buttons of her gown and meticulously stripped her of every stitch.

  She returned the favor, her fingers feverish as she tugged his clothes away. When she’d pushed his breeches from his hips and delved between their bodies to grip his erection, he caught her wrist. Her touch ignited him. He hissed at the playful sweep of her fingers over his crown. If he gave in…

  This would be over too soon.

  Pulling her hand higher, he pressed a kiss to her palm. Catching her eyes in his, he teased the sensitive flesh with his tongue. She gasped, her thighs tightening around him.

  “Adam…”

  He kissed her. First her mouth, her cheek, her neck. In a frustratingly slow exploration of her body, he found and kissed every last freckle. It was torture. She trembled around him, her hands alternately gripping him and pulling him to the places she craved him most. He went willingly, eager to watch the pleasure cross her face.

  As he settled between her legs and slid his tongue into her folds, he nearly shut his eyes. He forced them open, not wanting to miss a moment. He memorized her musky-sweet taste, the sound of her moans, the way she lifted her hips to meet him. When she trembled on the edge, he stretched his body over hers. Skin to skin, warmth to warmth.

  He sheathed himself in her, moaning at the slide of her around him. He threaded his fingers through her hair and held her so their eyes met with every long, languorous stroke. Her cheeks were flushed with desire, her lips parted, and her eyes half closed. He hadn’t lied— To him, she was the most beautiful woman alive.

  His savoring pace couldn’t last forever. With each stroke he burned hotter, panted harder. As her muscles began to clench tight around him, he held his breath, trying to stretch out the moment so it never ended. He never wanted any moment with her to end.

  As she fell over the precipice into orgasm, her fingernails digging into his shoulders and her thighs squeezing him, she took him with her. He groaned her name, his eyes stinging as he held her close and spilled into her. Her breath fanned his neck, raising chills. Unwilling to let her go, he rolled to his back and took her with him, draping her over his chest. Their bodies had been made for moments like this.

  Her hair glinted with fiery strands in the candlelight. Smoothing them away from her face, he whispered, “I never thought I’d be this happy.”

  Smiling almost shyly, she leaned forward to kiss the tip of his nose. “If you think this is happiness, wait for how you’ll feel in a year or two.”

  His stomach clenched, but he tried not to show it. He offered her a lazy smile and tightened his arms. “Good night, darling.”

  She yawned, settling her head against his shoulders, her curls tossed haphazardly across him. “Shouldn’t we put out the candle?”

  “I will when I move us beneath the blankets. I want to hold you for a moment more.”

  He wanted to hold her for the rest of his life. As he soaked in her warmth, the memory of that certificate going up in flames nagged at him. His suspicion turned to certainty.

  Chatterley wasn’t a hasty man. He was a conniving, clever sort of fellow who’d built his life upon contingencies. Not to mention, he’d flouted his plans to Adam’s face, but Adam had been too dense to recognize it. I made arrangements in the case of my death. Chatterley’s words. Those documents they’d burned… They had only been copies. Which meant Chatterley still had the ammunition with which to ruin Adam’s life.

  And Lily’s.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Lily’s soft, naked body pressed against Adam from shoulder to knee, a benediction and a torment. His arm looped around her shoulders, rising and falling with her breath. He stared at the dark ceiling. The knot in his chest tightened like a noose. He didn’t want to leave the bed.

 
He didn’t want to leave her.

  But the longer he thought, the more inconsistencies arose in his mind as he tried to recall the burned papers. The messy scrawl, the inconsistency in the seal, they all added up to one thing. Those documents had been copies. Perhaps legal once, perhaps clever forgeries, but either way he highly doubted they were the only pieces of evidence Chatterley had against him. Now that Lily’s sisters had told him in no uncertain terms that she would not deliver the artifact, Chatterley would be looking for a scapegoat. He would not hesitate to tear Adam down. And if Adam didn’t hurry to intercept him, the aftermath might draw Lily under along with him.

  He’d come to London to deliver his surprise, something he had worked on for the past four years while they’d been apart. A gift meant to make amends. But whether he was dangling from a hangman’s noose or shot in a duel, her gift would come to her anyway. The only question was whether she would be in any sort of position to accept it.

  He needed information. He needed time. He must know what Chatterley was planning, and whether they were already too late to circumvent his revenge.

  Adam’s eyes burned. No matter what, Lily must live. She must be comfortable and happy. If he never did another good thing in his life, he would die satisfied with having saved her further grief. He loved her, body and soul.

  He had to fix this. Which meant that he had to return to the dragon’s lair and learn what he could. Perhaps he might even convince Chatterley to see reason. If Chatterley had ever cared for Lily, he would keep her out of it.

  Adam waited a while longer, listening to the sound of Lily’s breathing and savoring the feel of her relaxed body against him. When he was certain she was in a deep sleep, he shifted, slipping out of the bed beneath her and laying her gently on the pillow. She stirred but didn’t open her eyes. He didn’t have the heart to wake her and explain his anxieties. With luck, he would return before she woke, armed with the knowledge of Chatterley’s next move. They might have to make a decision quickly. Sleep would ensure that at least one of them operated at full capacity. He waited a moment more, unwilling to leave, before he lifted the sheet to cover her shoulders.

  Should he leave her a note? No, he’d be gone an hour, two at the most.

  He dressed in the dark, not caring about his appearance. As his fingers brushed against the barrel of his pistol, he nearly tucked it into his pocket. But he’d left the navy. If he killed another man, it would stain him for the rest of his life. He left the pistol behind.

  He walked to Chatterley’s house, using the exercise to warm his blood and limbs. When he knocked on the door, the valet let him in without question. He followed the stoic manservant into the study, where he was left waiting in the thin light of a single candle.

  His reflection was thrown back at him through the glass of the window. His eyes were deep, haunted. His expression was that of a man who had made his decisions, who would live with his sins. Adam had no regrets. Thanks to his efforts these past four years, Lily would live happy and safe. She would be provided for, even if he wasn’t around to see it.

  And, damnation, he intended to be with her this time.

  A figure stirred in the glass behind him. He took a deep breath and turned, meeting Chatterley’s furious gaze. The man stormed inside, pistol in hand. This time, Adam didn’t fight him. Weariness sinking into his bones, he leaned his hip against the desk and mustered one last smile.

  “Before you pull that trigger, I think we ought to have a word. About Lily.”

  Chatterley’s expression twisted beyond recognition. “I’m through listening to your prattle.”

  He fired the gun. Adam’s instincts overtook him and he threw himself to the side. The shot went wide. His skull struck the corner of the desk, the pain a spiderweb from the point of impact. His body went limp.

  …

  Lily woke to the sheets tangled around her in an empty bed. For a moment, she lay still, straining her ears. Outside, the sounds of London awaking streamed in through the cracked window. In the house, she caught the patter of footsteps, too delicate to be Adam’s. Where was he? When they had slept together in the past, he’d always woken her when he woke, pressing a light kiss to her mouth and warning her if he meant to leave the bed.

  He might have left for any number of reasons. Perhaps he’d needed to use the chamber pot but hadn’t wanted to stink up the room. Or, a more romantic notion, he might have gone to fetch her a cup of chocolate to drink in bed in celebration. They had triumphed after months of laboring beneath the shadows of the future. From here on out, they would be happy.

  She swallowed against her dry mouth and turned, facing the window. Daylight peeked beneath the drawn curtains. Despite the return of the late summer heat, a chill shivered down her spine. This bed reminded her too much of her marriage bed. This morning reminded her too much of the morning she’d woken to find him gone.

  Of course, then they hadn’t been in London. They’d been out in Bristol for their honeymoon. She’d lain abed, listening to the crashing of the ocean waves against the shore, before realizing that all was not as it should be.

  How long was she going to lie about this time, lying to herself?

  A sob gathered in her chest like building storm clouds. She swallowed thickly, holding it at bay as she swung herself out of the bed. “You’re being ridiculous.” At any minute now, Adam would slip into the room and tease her for her worry. He loved her, and he intended to spend his life with her. That was why they gone through all that trouble of breaking into Chatterley’s house and burning the papers.

  Or had Adam used her to avoid capture by the navy? Had she played into his hands again? She pressed the heels of her hands to her burning eyes. Lying abed would not solve the problem. Thrusting aside her anxiety, she rose from the bed and dressed swiftly in the same clothes she’d worn last night.

  She found Willa downstairs in the breakfast room. “Have you seen Adam?”

  Willa frowned. “I thought he was still abed.”

  Lily shook her head, unable to speak.

  “Maybe he went out this morning. He might have had business.”

  Lily’s lower lip quivered and her eyes filled with tears.

  “Lily?”

  She couldn’t speak. The chair clattered to the floor, a jarring sound as Willa stood. Lily held herself stiff as Willa embraced her. Just for a moment, before she pressed her face into the soft fabric covering her sister’s shoulder.

  “I’m being foolish. You’re right. He must have gone out.”

  Still, she couldn’t stop her shoulders from shaking. Holding her breath, she held onto the threads of hope. He would return soon.

  He loved her.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  The devil drummed on Adam’s head. For some reason, he was strewn across a cold floor, not in bed next to his warm wife. Had he had a nightmare and fallen out of bed? A flickering light limned his eyelids in red. The transient nature of the light stabbed into his eye sockets with every shift. He moaned, trying to turn his face away into the cool wooden floor.

  Get up. He would worry Lily if he did not. Letting out a shattered breath, he tried to pull his hand beneath him to lever into a sitting position, only to find that he could not. His wrists were bound tight behind him, not with crude hempen rope but with a starched length of cloth. A cravat—his cravat? With difficulty, he opened his eyes.

  He was not at home. The walls were a nauseating green. The shutters were latched, keeping out the light and any prayer of orienting himself. The light emanated from a candle across the room. One look at it convinced him to protect his aching eyes. His mouth was dry and sour. The hair at his temple felt matted with sweat and crusted with the devil only knew what. He squeezed his eyes tight and took another shuddering breath.

  “This is taking too deuced long.”

  That was not his wife’s voice.

  Hea
vy, purposeful footsteps reverberated through the floorboards and into his head. His stomach rebelled. He pressed his lips tight. Tepid water drenched him and he gasped, spluttering involuntarily and opening his eyes again. The toes of a man’s Hessian boots were planted not far from Adam’s head. He tasted the sting of lye and nearly turned out the contents of his stomach. He rolled onto his back instead, gulping for breath and praying that Chatterley had thrown the contents of his dishwater on Adam rather than his used bathwater.

  With the water had returned clarity on one point— Adam had gone into Chatterley’s house and he had not departed. The crack to his head had happened when he’d dodged a bullet. More worryingly, it might have been the bullet itself. Steeling himself, he turned to study his captor’s face.

  Chatterley was deranged. For once, he made no pretense at hiding his emotions behind the mask of civility. Adam had stood toe to toe with men who hated him on principle before, but none of them had fostered the depth of loathing in Chatterley’s eyes.

  “At last, you deign to join us, Mr. Darling.” Chatterley’s mouth curled around Adam’s surname like he wanted to spit it out.

  Adam said nothing. Movement at the door drew his attention to Chatterley’s stoic manservant. His expression was blank, his hands clasped at his back and his posture stiff and at the ready. However, there was something in the way he stared at the wall rather than taking in Adam’s prone form that made him wonder what the man thought of his master now.

  When Adam tried to shove himself upright, white pain streaked from his temple to blind him. He nearly lost his lunch on Chatterley’s shoes. He remained on the floor, gasping, and blinked hard to clear his vision. Slowly, those boots came back into focus again.

  Chatterley pinned him with one in the shoulder, wrenching the already aching joint even farther out of comfort. If Adam had been able to move, it would have been a fool’s decision. He envisioned the series of moves he would take to get the upper hand—knock Chatterley’s legs out from under him. Roll atop. Use his bound hands to slip into Chatterley’s pockets for a knife or something else of use. The manservant might put a stop to it, but not before Adam bloodied Chatterley’s nose.