“My mother used to sing to me,” Ethan said. “I lived with her until I was five years old. I travelled with the circus. And then my father decided that despite my low birth, I should be brought up as a gentleman.”
“Your mother gave you up?” Lottie’s heart felt chilled. In her mind’s eyes she could see a golden summer morning twenty-seven years before and another parent saying goodbye to his child, never to see her again.
“My mother thought it would be for the best,” Ethan said. There was an odd note in his voice as though he wanted to believe it but did not quite do so. “She wanted me to have a place in life,” he said, “and an education. Even though I wanted to stay with her she thought it better that my father should take me away.”
“So you went to Farnecourt,” Lottie said. She was watching his face, the chase of light and dark across his features that mirrored the memories. “That must have been a shock for a child brought up in the traveling circus.”
“I loved it,” Ethan said, surprising her. “I loved County Mayo and the sea. The house was huge and sprawling and full of secrets. And the land was beautiful, fierce and free. But for the rest…” He shifted, as though the memories and ghosts were pressing on him. “Well, you have heard all the tales. My father disapproved of my wildness from the very start and the servants took their cue from him. Naturally the Duchess hated me—how could she not, when I was the living proof of my father’s infidelity? She brought up her children to detest me, all except Northesk, who had his work cut out trying to stand between me and trouble.” He sighed, shrugged. “And there always was trouble—at Farnecourt, at Eton, wherever I went.”
“Is it true,” Lottie asked, “that when you ran away you went to Newmarket and stole one of your father’s racehorses?”
“Quite true,” Ethan said. He gave her the shadow of a smile. “Wild Darrell was a beautiful creature—and a damned sight nicer natured than most of my family.”
“And that you worked in Ireland for several years as a jockey before you went to France to join Napoleon’s army?”
“You have been assiduously listening to the gossip,” Ethan said.
“Margery told me,” Lottie said. “You must know that everyone talks about you, my lord. There is nothing better to do in this provincial little place.”
“Oh, but there is,” Ethan said. He came back across the room toward her. “There is spying.”
Lottie’s heart jumped and started to race. The brief moment of intimacy was over, the tiny window into the past closed. It had been an illusion to think that when they had shared confidences for the first time it had bound them closer together. She was still the betrayer and Ethan the man she had deceived.
“Tell me about tonight,” Ethan said. “You saw me in the garden and you followed me.”
Lottie gave a little shrug. “I thought you might be going somewhere interesting,” she said. “It was a spur-of-the-moment decision to follow you, I swear. And I had promised Theo that I would try….” Her voice trailed away. She was trapped. It did not really matter what she said. Ethan could see all too clearly the depth of her deceit.
“We’ll come to your brother in a moment,” Ethan said. He caught her shoulders, turning her so that she faced him. “Did you see where I went?”
“No!” Lottie protested. “I only caught up with you by the time you were walking down the toll road back into town,” she said, “and by then my feet hurt and I had torn my gown on some brambles and I was wishing I had not bothered to go out at all.”
Ethan scanned her face. She could feel herself flushing beneath his scrutiny even though she had been telling the truth. There was something so keen and hard in his gaze that it seemed to cut right through her.
“Someone else was out tonight,” he said. “If it was not you, then—who was it?”
Lottie winced as his hands tightened on her shoulders and he loosened his grip at once. “Did you see anyone else?” he questioned, more softly.
Lottie shook her head. “No one.”
“Are you sure? This is important.”
Lottie looked up and met his eyes. “There was a man turning into Newbury Street as I returned,” she said. “He was one of your fellow officers, I think. I did not see him clearly but there was something familiar about his gait.” She frowned, trying to recall more of the shadowy figure she had seen for just a moment.
Ethan was looking pensive. “A French officer,” he said. “I wonder…”
“Surely no one would betray you,” Lottie said. She blushed bright red under his quizzical gaze. “On your own side, I mean.”
“Everyone has a price,” Ethan said. He sat down on the edge of the bed. “Don’t they, Lottie?”
Lottie bit her lip. “I am British,” she said. “Most people would see my actions as patriotism.”
Ethan laughed. “Then they would give you too much credit. You do not act out of principle. What did your brother offer you? Money, I suppose, as is traditional.”
“Theo offered me what I had lost,” Lottie said.
Her words fell softly into the candlelit room.
She had not meant to tell Ethan, had not meant to expose more of her weakness to him, but his words had wounded her. The regret was like sawdust in her throat, rough and choking. Ethan was right, she thought bitterly. Her principles had been for sale. The thing that mattered to her, the thing that she wanted more than any other, was not to save her country or any such high-minded sentiment. She had wanted to go back; back to the past when she had been rich beyond dreams and had not appreciated quite how fortunate she was.
She looked at Ethan and saw that there was understanding in his eyes and something that looked like sympathy. Emotion shivered between them, like the tightening of a gossamer thread.
“I am sorry,” he said. “But you know you can never go back to your old life, Lottie. What they offered you was an illusion.”
“I can try,” Lottie said stubbornly. She felt stripped bare of pretense. “It is not all about the money,” she said, struggling to explain. “I love Theo. He is my brother. He was the only one who cared for me after our father left and our mother proved such a broken reed.” She spread her hands in a gesture of appeal. “Is it so strange that I would want to help him—and for him to help me in return?”
She could not bear the pity in Ethan’s eyes. She knew he thought Theo was using her and she tried fiercely to push the idea away. She wanted Theo to be her white knight. Yes, there was a price to be paid for his help, but that was the way of the world. It did not mean that Theo loved her any the less.
“Oh, I wish you had not guessed!” she burst out. She pulled away from him. “I do not know what I shall tell Theo now.”
“You’ll tell him what I give you to tell him,” Ethan said.
For a moment Lottie was confused and then her heart started to slam through her body in powerful strokes. “You mean that you want me to lie to him?” She gasped. “To pass on information I know to be false?”
“That will be very useful to me,” Ethan agreed. The sympathy had gone from his face now as though it had never been. He looked hard and implacable. Lottie stared at him. Mrs. Ormond had called him ruthless, and she had visualized Ethan cutting Napoleon’s enemies down in battle. But there were different sorts of ruthlessness and now she was looking straight into its cold heart.
“Theo will guess,” she said, speaking as dispassionately as he, as though they were merely discussing the weather or the events of the day. Her heart beat hard and fast but she kept her voice steady now. “I could not fool you for one minute—I would never be able to convince him.”
“The information I will give you will be very convincing,” Ethan said gently.
There was a silence.
“What alternative do I have?” Lottie said. “You said that there are always choices.”
The hint of a smile touched Ethan’s lips. “I confess I cannot see many choices for you now.” He shrugged. “Either you work for me as penance
for your deceit, or you go to your brother, tell him that you have failed him, and see if he will still help you. But without having anything to offer him…” Ethan’s voice faded away. “Unless you think he might help you out of family loyalty…”
“Perhaps he would,” Lottie said. She felt cold in her bones, the doubt gnawing at her even though she tried to keep it out. Theo had sworn that he cared for her. Surely he would not turn her away, even if she had failed him.
“I could ask him,” she said. “I will ask him.”
Ethan smiled. “By all means,” he said gently.
“But that is a risk…. He might turn me away….” Lottie knitted her fingers together. They were shaking. She loved Theo and wanted to trust him but he had made it plain in London that there was a price for his help. Now she had failed so abysmally in her role as spy, would he reject her, wash his hands of her as so many men had done before him? She did not want to put him to the test.
“You have no other choice than to throw in your lot with me,” Ethan said. He waited, watching her. “Unless you wish to end up on the street.”
Once again there was a silence in the hot little room. Ethan was watching her with amusement and Lottie realized that her struggles must be clear on her face. Her choice was no choice and Ethan knew it, she thought bitterly. She could work for him and betray her country or she could throw herself on Theo’s mercy and risk rejection. If she turned Ethan down or if Theo discarded her, she would be alone and ruined.
The shadows of the past pressed close and she shuddered.
“I’ll not become a spy for the French,” she said. “Even I have a sticking point. You ask too much, my lord.”
She saw the glimmer of amusement in Ethan’s eyes and something else, too, something that might have been admiration. His gaze examined her face and she pressed her lips together tightly to keep herself from going back on her word, from caving in, compromising, to save her own skin. It was more difficult than she had imagined. Her instincts were screaming at her to agree to Ethan’s suggestion. Anything to avoid the risk of Theo rejecting her, anything to escape being out on the streets once again…
“I thought we had just agreed that you had no choice?” Ethan said.
“It’s wrong,” Lottie said fiercely. “It’s treason. They would hang me if they found out.”
“For a moment I thought you were having a crisis of conscience rather than concerns about your self-preservation,” Ethan said dryly, “but I should have known better.” He shrugged. “If the British find out what you are doing you can always plead that you were under duress.”
“No,” Lottie said. She raised her chin and looked him straight in the eyes. “I will not plead for anything or with anyone, anymore,” she said. “I am done with begging.” She remembered the way in which she had implored Gregory to take her back and the way she had pleaded with Mrs. Tong for a place under the bawdy-house roof. She thought of the desperation with which she had wanted Theo to save her. None of it had served. All it had done was rob her of her self-respect.
“You will not spy for me and you will not go cap in hand to your brother,” Ethan said thoughtfully.
“No,” Lottie said again. She felt a desperate mixture of bravado and uncertainty. What would she do if Ethan called her bluff and threw her out? She could not sell her favors like those maidservants at The Bear. She would rather starve now than sink to that level. Nor would she walk twenty miles to Palliser Hall and throw herself on the mercy of relatives who had already proved they had none. That would be more begging, and she wanted none of it.
“No,” she repeated more softly.
Ethan shifted on the bed. The candlelight flickered across his face. “Now you have surprised me,” he said slowly. “How interesting. I did not think you had the courage to defy me.”
“You can throw me into the street if you wish,” Lottie said, hoping that he would not take her up on this, “but I will not change my mind.”
Ethan laughed. “I doubt there is any need for such melodrama,” he drawled. He reached forward, touched her cheek. His fingers were seductively gentle though that tenderness was at war with a kind of conflict she could see in his eyes. “I find I have no desire to part with you just yet,” he said, “though you richly deserve for me to send you packing for your treachery.”
The relief swept through Lottie in an engulfing wave. “So what do we do now?” she asked, after a moment.
Ethan smiled at her and her heart did a little leap.
“What we did before,” Ethan said. “You are my mistress. You perform that role admirably.”
“But my commission for Theo—” Lottie began.
Ethan laughed. “Tell your brother whatever you wish,” he said, “if it will secure your future.” His laughter died. “Just make sure it is not the truth, Lottie. Do not betray me again.” His hand came up to cup her cheek again. “Please,” he said. The word was gentle but his tone was hard. “Do not put me to the test on that. I mean it.”
Their eyes met and held. Lottie shook her head. “I don’t understand you, Ethan,” she complained.
Ethan laughed. “You don’t need to understand me,” he said. “I like you, Lottie,” he added. “I like you very much. That is all there is to it.”
“But you don’t trust me,” Lottie whispered. Her mind was spinning. Ethan would let her stay. He would not throw her out into the street. She was safe, for now. And Theo need never know…. She felt relieved, confused, utterly torn by the conflicts of loyalty and self-interest.
“I don’t trust you in the slightest,” Ethan said. “And you do not trust me.” He shrugged. “It is a fine basis for a relationship between the two of us.”
There was a pause. “Will you stay?” Lottie said.
Ethan hesitated. She could see the candlelight reflected in his eyes. “Yes,” he said. “Damn it, Lottie Palliser, I am so angry with you for betraying me and thwarting me, but I will stay because I want you.”
He leaned forward and kissed her. Lottie could feel the temper in him, hot under the surface. He eased her back against the pillows and she shivered in response to his touch. Ethan was kissing her with barely leashed passion, his hands already moving over her, stripping her of her nightgown, exposing her nakedness to his gaze and spreading her for his pleasure. She understood what would happen now. He would ask her to surrender everything and to give herself up to his will. It was his price. She had forced him to concede and he was furious with her, so now he would make her pay, exacting his revenge in the sweetest, most decadent ways she could imagine. It would be like the time in the carriage when he had asserted his absolute mastery over her. She would have to submit to his will. This was what he demanded of her. And in the past she had paid.
Not this time.
Defiance flickered within her. They had engaged in a battle of wills and for once she had won.
And now he would dance to her tune.
Quick as a flash she moved to straddle him, catching him off guard as she grabbed a scarf from the chair, wrapped it around his wrist and tied it to the wooden headboard. She could do knots. Theo had shown her how when they were children.
“What the devil—” Ethan rolled over to see what she had done and she took advantage to grab his other wrist and tie that one above his head, too, this time with her discarded nightgown.
“Don’t tear my silks,” Lottie said sweetly, “or you will have to buy me some more.”
She saw the muscles in Ethan’s shoulders bunch beneath the cotton of his shirt as he jerked against his bonds. The silk held. He cursed, turning his incredulous blue gaze on her.
“What the hell do you think you are doing?”
She knew that the bonds might not hold him if he became really angry so she straddled him again, running her hands beneath his shirt so that she could press her palms against his chest. She leaned over him, sliding her tongue between his lips, parting him, nibbling his bottom lip, flirting her tongue against his. She could feel his respons
e—and his resistance.
“I’m a little tired of being at your mercy, Ethan,” she said, “so I thought it was about time you were at mine.”
Ethan’s reply was couched in some very colorful, very idiomatic French. Lottie laughed.
“That is physically impossible, my love,” she said. She slid down his body, brushing her nakedness against him. The rub of his breeches was rough against her skin. He already had an enormous erection, which she was careful not to touch.
“I think,” she said, sitting back and looking thoughtfully down at Ethan’s straining body, “that I am going to have trouble with your boots. I cannot really call Margery to help….” She paused. “So perhaps we shall just have to leave some of your clothes on.”
“For pity’s sake, Lottie,” Ethan said hoarsely, “let me go.”
Lottie’s only reply was to graze another kiss across his lips. He groaned.
“How interesting that you do not like surrendering control,” Lottie said, pressing her lips to his lean stomach and tasting the skin hot and salty against her tongue.
“Of course I do not…” Ethan’s voice was even tighter now, as though he was in physical pain. “I have been in control since I was fifteen years old. No one takes that away from me.”
No one takes that away from me….
This was Ethan’s strength. Lottie could see that now. Even in captivity when every freedom had been taken from him there was a power about Ethan that was untouched because he would never willingly surrender it to any man. The authorities had recognized that in him and had tried to break him but he had not capitulated. It was why they hated him and wanted to bring him down. He had taken control from his father when he had run away from home and he had been his own master ever since. No one had brought him to his knees. But now Lottie had stripped that power from him and made him her captive, and she could see that he was simultaneously angered at his loss of control and fascinated by it.
“Let go. There is nothing you can do.” Lottie trailed her lips up over his chest and pressed little openmouthed kisses over the muscular hardness of his shoulder. Ethan moved restlessly against his bonds.
One Wicked Sin Page 18
