It Happened One Night: Six Scandalous Novels

by Grace Burrowes

  She averted her gaze, refusing to look at him, and snatched her hand away. “No, my lord! You needn’t do that,” she said, sounding utterly panicked. She then turned and ran out of the aviary, leaving him to stare, dumbfounded, after her.

  “Chloe!” he called after her, but she ignored him, hurrying toward the house, nearly tripping over her skirts in her haste.

  He wanted to follow, but perhaps it was best to let her go for now. He couldn’t say the things he wanted to and until he could…perhaps it was best to say nothing at all.

  Chloe hadn’t meant to flee like some silly miss; she just couldn’t have borne anything Ian might have to say. If, in fact, he were to ask her to wed him, she would know it wasn’t by his desire and she would have denied him. It would have broken her heart. On the other hand, goodbye would have been just as excruciating.

  Though she was far too preoccupied to participate in conversation, Lady Fiona’s pleasant chatter helped keep Ian off her mind while Chloe massaged her limbs. Their color seemed far healthier than it had been merely a week ago, she thought, and on impulse, gave the arch of the foot a gentle pat.

  Lady Fiona’s foot twitched.

  Chloe blinked, at first, disbelieving her eyes. But it had responded, she was certain of it.

  She met Lady Fiona’s gaze in surprise. The two merely stared at one another—Chloe’s eyes questioning and Lady Fiona’s perfectly blank. Something about her expression—or lack of it—gave Chloe pause. It seemed to Chloe that Lady Fiona knew what had happened and yet she sat there, saying nothing about the miraculous recovery. In fact, it rather seemed to Chloe that she was attempting to ignore the phenomenon altogether. “Did you feel that?” Chloe asked her, thinking she would surely acknowledge it.

  Lady Fiona smiled serenely and asked, “Feel what, my dear?”

  Chloe drew her brows together, confused by her reaction. “I thought I saw something, but perhaps I was mistaken.”

  Lady Fiona sat upright in the bed, her legs stretched before her, looking completely unruffled by the incident. Chloe’s old suspicions reared. Contemplating the odd reaction, Chloe pulled the coverlet up over Lady Fiona’s legs, pursing her lips as she considered the possibilities.

  “You’re doing such a great job, my dear,” Lady Fiona said, praising her but completely disregarding what had just transpired.

  Chloe frowned. “Thank you.”

  Was Lady Fiona faking her injury?

  Why would Lady Fiona lie?

  Each day, this house seemed to unveil another secret. Everyone here seemed to have them: Lady Fiona, Ian, even Edward. For a week now the cranky steward had locked himself away in the estate office. He’d taken his meals there and slept there, as well. Whatever could he be up to?

  One thing was certain: whatever it was, it was evident he had Lady Fiona’s blessing, because she was the one who’d requested his meals be delivered there.

  As for Ian, he’d journeyed to Edinburgh—to sell the necklace no doubt—and had yet to return. Chloe was glad he was gone because it pained her too much to see him.

  Tucking the coverlet about Lady Fiona’s waist, she said a brief good-night. Unfortunately she left without putting out the light and didn’t recall it until nearly an hour later. Chloe returned to Lady Fiona’s room, feeling miserable over the fact and hoping the light from the candle hadn’t disturbed Fiona’s slumber. She knocked softly on the door.

  There was no answer.

  Frowning, Chloe knocked again, a little harder this time.

  When there was still no response, she peered beneath the door. No light seeped beneath. The candle was out. How strange. Lady Fiona was evidently a heavier sleeper than Chloe realized.

  That…or she wasn’t in her room at all.

  Dressed in a modest nightgown, Fiona stood, looking over Edward’s shoulder, watching as he removed entries from the ledger that sat upon his desk. Edward was the only person in the house who knew the truth about her condition. Unfortunately he knew about Ian’s misadventures, as well. Still, Fiona trusted him to keep silent. Whatever else he might be, Edward was also Julian’s agent. She knew he would never dare betray her confidences, lest he experience Julian’s wrath.

  “I don’t want Ian to ever know where it goes,” she instructed him. “If he sees how much money is funneled into that account, he will surely wonder why.”

  “Yes, madame.”

  It pained her to know that Ian took such risks when the money was available to him—if only Julian chose to release it. “If Julian wishes to reveal himself once I am gone, he may do so, but I cannot bear the thought of ever facing my son were he to discover all the hideous lies.”

  “Yes, madame.”

  “I am heartily ashamed,” Fiona assured him. And she was. She should have done something long ago, though what could she have done? She wanted desperately to be able to give Ian something after she was gone. If she kept her mouth shut, he would have a future with Glen Abbey Manor. If she didn’t, he would have nothing at all, and neither would she. Ian would surely disown her, and Julian would carry out his threat and seize the manor and everything attached to it.

  He’d lied to her all those years ago.

  She may not have ever left Merrick had she realized Julian would renege upon his word. She would have remained in Meridian with both of her sons and said nothing to risk being driven away.

  “Yes, madame.”

  As she studied the ledger, a particular entry caught her attention. She pointed at it, tapping her finger gently upon the open book. “What is that one, Edward?”

  Edward straightened. He cleared his throat. “That would be…let’s see…miscellaneous expenditures, madame.”

  Fiona screwed her face at his explanation. “Miscellaneous expenditures? I don’t understand.” She squinted to better see the line in question. It was an extraordinary sum. She narrowed her eyes to it. “I thought Julian expected a detailed inventory of all our expenses?”

  “Yes, madame, his royal highness does expect a detailed report.” His face mottled under her scrutiny. “But these were funds that my lord requested and he would not give me any reason for their appropriation.”

  “Julian?”

  “No, madame. Master Ian.”

  “Ian?” Fiona asked him with no small measure of surprise. “You gave these funds to Ian? But he complains incessantly that you will not open the bank for him at all.” Fiona scanned the rest of the ledger with a finger and found another marked miscellaneous. “Good Lord! I cannot even imagine what he would use that sort of money for!” She cast Edward a glance. The steward merely looked up at her, his face red, but his expression cast in stone.

  “How long ago was this?” She glanced at the date—two months past. “Has Julian not taken us to task over it already? I cannot believe he has not cut off our funds entirely. Let me see that ledger!” she commanded, seizing it before he could hand it over. “Where are the rest of the books, Edward? I really should pore over these myself. I’ve not done so in far too long. Give me everything, the ledgers you have doctored and those left untouched, will you please.”

  Edward suddenly looked horrified. “But, madame! There are too many to go over tonight.”

  She eyed him dubiously but relented. “I suppose you are correct.” She glanced at the timepiece he had sitting upon the desk. “And the hour grows later. I should hie to bed.

  “Please do not touch the rest of these books, Edward,” she directed him. “I wish to look through them before they are altered further.”

  “Yes, madame,” he said, his tone somewhat stiffer than it had been. “I’ll have them ready and waiting for you on the morrow.”

  “See that they are,” Fiona told him curtly. As she left him, she pursed her lips while she considered the ledgers.

  Something didn’t quite add up.

  Chapter Seventeen

  What was the significance of the ruby ring?

  Chloe lay in bed, unable to sleep. Her head was spinning with questions. The
hour was growing so late that she feared morning would come before she could chance to close her eyes.

  Where the devil was Ian?

  She hoped he wasn’t in danger, wherever he was. She had the terrible feeling that the constable was watching his every move.

  She wondered how the constable knew to suspect Ian. Chloe certainly never would have. He played the part of a dandyish lord so well that she doubted anyone had suspected him.

  Did Lady Fiona know that her son was a champion to the poor? Lady Fiona had claimed that it was Hawk who’d caused her carriage accident. But that couldn’t be…unless…her story wasn’t true at all.

  Had she used the accident in an attempt to draw him out?

  Chloe recalled that Ian had forced his mother, against her will, to make a report to the constable. They’d summoned Chloe’s father first, of course, but the constable had come soon thereafter.

  And the necklace…who had filed that report with the constable? Certainly not Chloe. Though Ian had said he would do so, he had not to the best of Chloe’s knowledge—nor had Lady Fiona encouraged it.

  Someone had to have also alerted the constable that she was to meet with Hawk that night. Chloe was certain of it. But who would have done so?

  Emily?

  So many questions nagged at Chloe’s brain. Sleep seemed an impossible task.

  Footsteps wandered past her door and she wondered, in her sleep-deprived state, if it were Lady Fiona wandering the halls. Though almost as soon as she thought it, she admonished herself for the ridiculous notion. She just couldn’t believe Lady Fiona would lie about her illness.

  And Chloe’s father, he wasn’t the sort to lie at all.

  She recalled the weeks before he’d died. Tears pricked at her eyes and she swallowed the knot that rose in her throat. He’d been quite beside himself for some reason Chloe could never determine.

  Had he lied for Lady Fiona? Had the ordeal sent him to an early grave?

  Chloe couldn’t bear it if that were true.

  The echo of footsteps halted outside her door. Chloe peered up to see the shadow of feet paused just outside. And then the hall light suddenly went out and the shadow blended into the darkness.

  Her heart began to pound.

  It wasn’t her imagination; someone was outside her door.

  The footsteps began again, moving away from her door. They faded somewhere down the hall. Chloe heard a door open and close and she sucked in breath she hadn’t realized she’d held. She lay her head back upon the pillow, willing her heartbeat to slow.

  Lord, she was beginning to see conspiracies in every corner—secrets and lies. And if there was one thing she couldn’t abide it was a liar.

  Perhaps she needn’t remain in this house any longer. It was time to go.

  She turned her back to the door and faced the balcony, starting as she spied a figure standing there, the form a silhouette against the moonlight.

  Chloe froze, a scream caught in the back of her throat.

  “Chloe,” he whispered, and came toward the bed.

  Chloe’s heart flipped against her ribs at the sound of his voice.

  “Forgive me,” Merrick said as he came to the bedside, looking down upon her.

  He’d been gone a week and, God help him, he could think of nothing but her. He couldn’t stay away. He needed to know the feel of her body beneath his. He craved the taste of her upon his lips, his tongue. He wanted to know her body intimately, inside and out.

  “Ian,” she whispered.

  The sound of his brother’s name upon her lips burned at his gut. He wasn’t Ian and he damned well wanted her to know it.

  She said nothing to protest his presence and his heart quickened its beat, thrumming through his veins. Illuminated by the pale moonlight, she was lovely lying before him. But her face was in the shadow of his body and he couldn’t see her expression. Her white, filmy gown clearly revealed the outline of her areolas, beautiful pointed peaks that whetted his hunger.

  “You’re back,” she said, her voice trembling slightly.

  Merrick bent to kiss her, his lips unerringly finding her mouth. Eager for the feel of her, he growled softly in the back of his throat as she reached out to take him into her arms, willingly taking him into her bed.

  Tonight, he would make her his own.

  He couldn’t wait any longer.

  His hand cupped her face as he deepened the kiss and her arms went sweetly about his neck, drawing him closer.

  Merrick didn’t need further encouragement. He fell down atop her, savoring the sweet taste of her mouth. “Chloe,” he murmured, and was nearly unmanned on the spot when she offered him her sweet little tongue. Fire pumped through his veins, increasing his size, making him throb painfully.

  He kissed her feverishly, tasting and plundering the depths of her mouth, praying she’d not send him away.

  If she did, he would surely die.

  He’d been able to think of nothing more on the journey home from Edinburgh than burying himself into the silky depths of her body.

  He wanted her body and soul.

  His hands released her face long enough to untie his cravat. He tossed it impatiently to the floor and moaned softly as her hands gently cupped his face.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” she whispered sweetly, and his heart swelled against his ribs until it ached.

  He tore off his coat and tossed it to the floor, then his shirt, needing to feel the warmth of her body against his bare flesh.

  Chloe swallowed.

  She wanted this.

  This instant, she didn’t care about tomorrow.

  All that mattered was tonight, this moment.

  If she must leave him afterward, then at least she would take this moment with her and cherish it always in her heart.

  Tonight she would give him more than her love, she would give him her body…she would give him anything he desired of her.

  Her hand slid from his face, reveling in the soft growth of whiskers there, and moved to his wide, beautiful shoulders, adoring his sinewy male flesh. His hands came to her once more, alighting first upon her shoulders and sliding down her arms, caressing feverishly. They were like fire against her body and yet she shivered wherever they lit.

  Chloe moaned softly, arching her back, willing him to take whatever he wished. Her head fell backward as he broke their kiss and his mouth moved down her chin, her throat, leaving little fiery kisses along its path. She trembled as he gently suckled her throat, sending pinpoints of pleasure throughout her entire body.

  Through her clothing, his mouth fell upon her breasts and she gasped for air, shuddering softly at the glorious sensation his suckling evoked. Even through the material of her nightgown, she could feel the swirl of his tongue as it made tiny circles about her aching nipples. He found and traced the outline of her areolas and then drew first one peak, then the other into his mouth, suckling tenderly…like a babe at its mother’s breast.

  It was wickedly sweet.

  She had never known a man would wish to suckle there. The sensation was unlike anything Chloe had ever experienced. She arched her body, wanting yet more. In answer, his hands moved beneath her, lifting her higher for his shockingly erotic feast.

  Something began to coil deep inside her. Tightening in her womb, the feeling intensifying with every suckle.

  “I need you,” he whispered.

  Chloe’s breath escaped her in a rush.

  She needed him, too.

  Unable to speak, she nodded. His body fell fully atop her then, and she reveled in his weight. Partly in fear and partly in delight, she whimpered as he covered her.

  So sweet.

  Merrick craved the taste of her lust. His hands gripped the front of her gown and ripped it open.

  He would buy her new ones.

  He would buy her thousands of new ones.

  He would give her anything her heart desired.

  She cried out, startled, but her face showed no trace of fear, only s
weet passion. It filled him with intense satisfaction. The sight that greeted his hungry gaze literally took his breath away. Her breasts, revealed by the soft moonlight, were perfectly shaped for his hands. The nipples were pebbled tightly, waiting like tiny rosebuds for his tongue’s caress.

  Christ, she was lovely.

  His mouth fell once more upon her body with a thirst unlike anything he’d known. He tasted her skin with abandon, lapping her gently, committing every small nuance of her body to his memory. She arched further, giving him greater access to her beautiful breasts, moaning softly, and his loins hardened at the feast she offered so willingly.

  “I want you, Chloe,” he whispered.

  For a lifetime.

  Forever.

  Someday he wanted to die in her arms…after they had loved each other for a hundred years.

  He reached down and took her by the hand, drawing her lean, delicate fingers to his manhood. He wanted her to feel what he would give her. He wanted her to grow accustomed to the thought of having him inside her body. He wanted her to touch him, caress him, love him. He wanted her body to prepare for his possession.

  And he would possess her.

  Chloe moaned softly at the shocking feel of him against her trembling fingers. He was so big, so hard. She knew what he wanted and, Lord, she would give it to him willingly.

  Her body shivering, her fingers gripped him where he wanted her to touch him. His fingers closed about her own, forcing her to acknowledge the length and width of him. She whimpered in the back of her throat as his hand left hers to unfasten his trousers. Somehow he shed them without displacing her hands. Or perhaps she just wasn’t aware of it and her fingers had sought him again in a haze of passion.

  He made some tortured sound as her fingers gently closed about his shaft, gripping him awkwardly but eagerly.

  He was beautiful, his body lean but thickly muscled. His golden hair gleamed in the moonlight. His face, as he looked down upon her was so full of desire that it sent quivers through her.