Seducing Eden

by Allison Lane

  When he woke, he had no idea how much time had passed. Eden lay like the dead beneath him, sound asleep. She would be a maze of bruises by morning if he stayed in this position, he realized, noting how uncomfortable the bed was. There was only one way to fix that.

  He rolled, smiling when she protested. But it took only a moment for her to settle atop him. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled up a sheet and let her slide deeper into dreams. It didn’t matter that the bed felt like a pile of boulders beneath his back, for he could not afford to sleep. Before dawn, he must leave for Foley.

  Beyond that, he had no plans. Every thought ended with Eden.

  Chapter Twenty

  Shortly after dawn, Alex rode through Foley’s gates, cursing his weakness. He should have spent the night preparing for the task at hand. Instead, he’d been stupidly indulgent, creating memories that distracted him enough to cause critical mistakes.

  For the first time in his life, he couldn’t lock the images away. Leaving Eden asleep at the inn had been the most difficult thing he’d ever done, and not only because their lovemaking had increased his need instead of dissipating it. She’d clung to him even in sleep.

  He’d had to leave without waking her, so he’d carefully slid out, ignoring her mumbled protests as he tried to make her as comfortable as possible. By the time he collected his horse, his mind should have forgotten everything except the job at hand.

  But it refused. His body still tingled. Her curiosity had pleased him more than the most accomplished courtesan. The afterglow remained, changing how he perceived the world – especially Eden.

  So this was love. Deep, abiding love. For the first time he understood the glances Helen shared with her husband and thanked heaven that she’d eloped instead of wedding him. What he’d called love had been no more than gratitude and attraction – as she’d claimed at the time but which he’d never truly accepted.

  Now he did. While memories of Helen and plans for their future together had kept him sane through the most dangerous of his assignments, in truth his image of her had been more fantasy than fact. Eden was so much more than Helen could ever be. He needed everything about her. Her passion. Her competence. Even her insistence on doing things her way instead of following his advice. Her feistiness might break up his peace at times, but it would never be boring.

  But could he have her?

  If Percy harmed Olivia, Eden would never forgive him. This was one point on which her expectations were clear-cut. Oh, she might criticize Stratford for punishing every fault. She might spout nonsense about human error and learning from mistakes. But when it came to Olivia’s safety, she would accept nothing less than perfection.

  Nor should she. Philosophy vanished in the face of reality. Alex had already failed her by not preventing Olivia’s abduction. It was galling to admit that Percy’s cunning had again outwitted him. If anything more happened…

  She would kick him into the next county and never allow a return. And who could blame her when every meeting would remind her of the sister she’d raised from birth?

  He thrust recrimination aside, lest it lead to new mistakes. But it was harder to lock away memories of Eden’s passion. Last night might be the last time she touched him, for he feared, with a fear more intense than he’d ever felt before, that Olivia was gone. Too many bodies lay in Percy’s wake, including females. Olivia must have seen him, so she could not be freed. The directions Percy would exchange for the stone would send Eden on a wild-goose chase, giving Percy time to escape, so why would he keep Olivia alive?

  The drive emerged from the woods to reveal Foley Manor a hundred yards ahead atop a knoll. A dozen horses stood saddled in the stable yard.

  Straightening, Alex adopted the role of a jolly young gentleman. He’d covered his scars with stage paint – a skill he’d refined at the Home Office. Only the closest scrutiny would detect the injuries in the milky light of dawn, especially if he kept his left cheek in shadow.

  He’d also turned the fashionable side of his cloak out. Now he added the bon homie confidence of a well-born gentleman.

  “Is Percy Montagu down yet?” he asked the nearest groom, then raised one brow at the collection of saddled horses. “I hadn’t expected a throng. This was to be a private ride.”

  “Mr. Percy, you say?”

  Alex nodded.

  “I’ve no instructions ’bout his mount, sir. This crowd’s headed for that mill up at Winster.”

  Alex chortled. “I knew the old man wouldn’t be ready!” It was easy to sound jolly now that he’d confirmed Percy’s presence. “Had a tenner on it. The silly clunch likely forgot – he was three sheets to the wind when we arranged it. I’ll roust him out, then roast him for his laziness. Thank you, my good man.”

  He tossed the groom a penny, then rode toward the front door. But the moment the stables were out of sight, he swerved into the woods, backtracking until he could see both the front entrance and the stable yard. It wasn’t an ideal post, but it should do. He doubted Percy meant to slip out the back. The man must know that only behaving normally would prevent notice.

  He’d hardly made himself comfortable when the house disgorged a laughing crowd of gentlemen, some playfully sparring as they traipsed toward the stable. Three winced as if protecting morning heads brought on by late night conviviality, then gulped from flasks to relieve their pain. One cub veered aside to leave his breakfast in the shrubbery before staggering back indoors followed by the derisive hoots of his friends.

  Alex shook his head. Had he ever been that young and stupid?

  * * * *

  The longcase clock in Foley’s hall struck eight as Percy Montagu passed. He’d chosen the perfect time to leave. The cubs bent on watching Bolton pound Raines were gone, and the ladies remained abed. He could depart without facing impudent requests to accompany him.

  He could barely contain his excitement, for this time he was sure to succeed. He’d learned enough about Mrs. Marlow to know she’d kill herself if it would protect her sister.

  Not that it would do her any good. As soon as he was sure of the stone, he would deal with the chit, slowly and with great relish. And Mrs. Marlow, too. He deserved the thrill for the trouble Marlow had caused.

  A growl rumbled in his throat when he recalled how Marlow’s treachery had turned his triumph to ashes.

  He’d been so furious at Emerson for killing Marlow, then leaving the body in plain sight, that he’d shot the fellow without even exchanging greetings. Once he’d collected the stone from Emerson’s pocket, he’d hurried home, covering the hundred and fifty miles in only fifteen hours and nearly foundering several horses. But that hadn’t mattered. Twenty-five years of study and planning had finally come to fruition.

  His legs had been rubbery by the time he’d arrived, but he’d ignored them, racing to the chapel that had stood in readiness for so long, eager to carry out the ritual he’d reconstructed after long years of study.

  Even knowing that everything was perfect hadn’t kept his hands from trembling as he’d donned the waiting robes. At last he could correct history’s error and take his rightful place in the family and the world.

  The memories sent new tremors through his hands…

  It took three tries before he could kindle a fresh flame in the brazier and light the waiting torches. Only when he added the incense did he calm, breathing deeply as the power rushed into him.

  The opening words of the chant sent smoke curling upward to twine around the ancient beams. The chapel’s hush deepened as if the very stones strained to hear his command. But before command must come blessing and invocation…

  He poured mead into the chalice. Mead made by his own hands according to an ancient method all but lost to mankind. Murmuring incantations in an archaic Greek dialect, he stirred three times with the sacred spoon, then poured a libation to the sorcerer whose power was now his.

  Vitality filled him as he drank. And peace. And the sorcerer himself, returning from beyond the gra
ve to right the wrongs of the world.

  As that spirit became one with his own, anticipation quickened his breath, driving his pulse faster and heating his skin until it glowed bright as the brazier. He was Sarsos. Immortal. Invincible. Divine. His voice resonated, gathering the gods to await his command. As the call swirled to the rafters, he set the chalice aside and lifted the stone, invoking its wisdom as he slid it into the staff that would tap its power.

  “Return what is mine to my control,” he began, thumping the base of the staff on the altar.

  The stone popped out, landing on the floor.

  “No-o-o-!” Shock replaced euphoria, weakening his knees.

  Minutes passed before he realized there was no problem. He’d merely inserted the stone backwards. Or upside down. Or—

  But no manner of twisting made it fit snugly. In a maelstrom of fury, he accepted the truth. Marlow had cheated, displaying a decoy good enough to trick the unimaginative Emerson. The real stone remained in the hands of Marlow’s wife.

  Percy bit back a howl of outrage, recalling the pain he’d suffered since that night. He’d immediately left to retrieve real stone, of course, but by the time he again reached Ridley, she was gone. Nothing had been right since…

  But tonight that would change. Tonight he would hold the stone, the real stone, in his hands. When that happened, when his transformation into Sarsos was complete, he could finally take his rightful place in the world. Then those who had mocked him all these years would pay…

  In the meantime, he had to be careful, for he was not yet invincible. To prevent anyone from noting his departure, he swallowed his pride and walked to the stables instead of demanding that his horse be sent to the door.

  “Are you still here, Mr. Percy?” asked a groom the moment he reached the stable yard. “I thought your friend woke you two hours ago.”

  “What friend?”

  “The one you were riding with this morning.” He glanced around as if expecting a companion.

  Percy frowned. “He named me?”

  “You are Mr. Percy Montagu, are you not?”

  “Yes, but I have a cousin with the same name.” Something that had annoyed him for more than twenty years. The family should accord him more respect.

  “Ah. That would be it, then. The friend was youngish. Drinking together last night, I gathered.”

  “My horse.” His curt order cut off further conversation.

  The groom scurried away, leaving Percy in impotent fury. Damn Percival Montagu, anyway. They’d addressed the name problem ten years earlier and resolved it – or so Percy had thought. The lad had conceded use of the shorter name to Percy, who’d already employed it for a lifetime, vowing to remain Percival in all matters. Percy should have known better than to believe him. Percival’s branch of the family abounded in dishonorable cads. Stealing his name was the least of their crimes. He would have to blister the cub’s ears when he returned.

  Or perhaps not. By tonight, he would wield power beyond their comprehension. Then they would pay. Painfully. Every last one. No one would blame him for avenging a lifetime of spite.

  * * * *

  Alex frowned at the middle-aged man speaking with the groom. This was the fourth such man he’d seen, revealing a new obstacle. Generations of intermarriage had produced a family peppered with tall blonds indistinguishable from a distance.

  But his instincts claimed this one was Percy. Unlike the others, he was alone, unusual at a gathering of this magnitude. Then there was his demeanor. The others had laughed and talked. This one was haughty and furious.

  Alex was too far away to hear what was said, but the groom’s friendliness vanished in a trice. He rushed off to ready a horse.

  Alex mounted his own animal and prepared to follow. He’d resumed his role as a struggling merchant, turning his cloak so he no longer looked like a gentleman. His posture and expression matched. It wasn’t hard to seem weighed down by cares, for Percy carried nothing. He wasn’t taking food to Olivia.

  * * * *

  Eden woke when sunlight hit her face. The joy she’d found in Alex’s arms quickly turned to fear for Olivia. They should be busy searching, not lying abed well past nine. She turned—

  He was gone.

  Panic nearly blinded her until she spotted his note. Her fingers fumbled as she opened it.

  Eden,

  Ring for breakfast immediately. Be upset that you overslept. Add hysterics that your mother might die before you arrive. Eat, then leave. I settled with the innkeeper, mentioning that I would bespeak a carriage in Derby. You and Jeremy must follow, but wait for me in the first copse large enough to hide the horses.

  Alex

  She swore. If he expected her to hide while he did all the work…

  Yet what choice did she have? He would seek her in the copse. If she wasn’t there, he might waste valuable time looking for her.

  So she hastily dressed, then used her fear for Olivia to make her role believable.

  The maid who answered her summons was the talkative sort. In five minutes, Eden learned that forty people were staying at Foley Manor with another forty distributed among four nearby homes. Next week’s wedding would be the grandest affair anyone could recall. Until then, daily expeditions meant that ’andsome gents were constantly passing the inn. Many stopped in the taproom, and for more than ale. The maid had already made two pounds above her wages.

  But so many people riding about would make it impossible to follow Percy unnoticed. It also made it harder for him to hide Olivia.

  Her hand shook as she forced eggs into her mouth. Was she clinging to false hope? She knew what Alex had not said. Unless they rescued Olivia before Percy’s deadline, Olivia would die. Percy had no reason to keep her alive. He might already—

  It was with a heavy heart that she and Jeremy rode west.

  * * * *

  Alex’s fears grew as he followed Percy into Derby, where the man paused at the King’s Arms long enough to leave a letter. There was no point in interviewing the innkeeper, for he would know nothing useful.

  Percy then spent a desultory hour visiting shops. But he purchased nothing and spoke to no one. Was he filling the hours before Eden delivered the stone, or did he suspect he was being followed?

  Not that he would notice Alex, who was too experienced to be seen. He kept his distance, changing his appearance from time to time and twice entering shops before Percy did.

  Percy eventually returned to Foley Manor, where he was swept into a billiards competition before he even reached the front door.

  Alex slipped away to find Eden. It was nearly noon. Her patience would be wearing thin. And Percy would now stay put until sunset unless he wished to draw notice.

  * * * *

  Something rustled in the underbrush. Eden jumped so high she nearly fell off the boulder she was using as a stool. Surely if it was Alex, he would identify himself. He knew she was here.

  Silence descended, as if someone were listening intently.

  Jeremy muffled the horses’ faces with his cloak so they would remain silent.

  Two birds set up a ruckus over rights to a nearby tree. A squirrel protested loudly. Would the sounds convince the watcher that he was alone?

  Hoofbeats clattered along the road.

  Alex?

  A new image burst through her head. Percy, crouched behind a tree, waiting to attack as Alex approached. She half rose to stop him, then forced herself back down.

  It could as easily be Alex waiting until the rider passed before making his presence known. Or Alex might be somewhere else entirely.

  A rook shrieked.

  She held her breath until spots danced before her eyes.

  The hoofbeats passed, continuing unchecked until they faded away.

  Her breath whooshed out, though she tried to remain silent. There was still someone out there. Could it be an animal?

  “Eden…” The whisper barely penetrated the trees, too soft to identify the voice. “Eden? Are y
ou here?”

  Had Percy forced Alex to reveal her hiding place? Had one of Percy’s servants recognized her at the inn? The place had sheltered secretaries, three valets, and a host of footmen. If Percy knew where she was—

  She slid off her boulder and crouched behind it. Jeremy met her eyes, his own terrified.

  A curse exploded, louder than the whisper. “Damnation! I told her to wait here.” Definitely Alex.

  “Over here,” she called softly.

  In moments he burst into her clearing. “Why didn’t you answer me?”

  “There was more than one person out there. How was I to know which was you?” She frowned. “What did you do to your face?”

  “The scars?” He touched his cheek. “I erased them.”

  She stepped closer, staring. “It’s like magic.”

  “Just stage paint. Did you have trouble at the inn?”

  “No. But the maid claims that dozens of people are riding about this week. The Foleys hold excursions, picnics, and competitions. And half the guests are staying elsewhere.”

  “I noticed.” When she raised a brow, he continued. “I watched the house this morning. One party left for a mill. Others are riding. And several ladies are heading for the Derby shops as we speak.”

  “Shouldn’t you be watching Percy?” Instead of her earlier anger at being shunted aside, she now feared that fetching her would let Percy escape.

  “He is playing billiards, having just returned from Derby, where he left an envelope with the porter at the King’s Arms.”

  Jeremy led the horses closer. “You saw no sign of Olivia?”

  “None. Nor did I expect to.” Alex lifted Eden onto her horse. “Percy won’t visit her until after his deadline. She cannot be at the house, and he cannot risk leaving while others might follow. At sunset, he will send a servant to collect the package from the King’s Arms. The man won’t return until it is full dark. That is when Percy will slip away.”

  “But why would he go to her if he doesn’t have the stone?” asked Eden.