The Bed and the Bachelor

by Tracy Anne Warren

  She raised her chin with a kind of defiant pride. “I made a few adjustments to the equation that left out some rather important bits and pieces. He is too poorly versed in mathematics to realize what I’d done and that I’d rendered the cipher essentially useless.”

  “So you duped him?” Drake barked out a quick laugh. “Good Lord.” But his humor faded almost instantly. “But now he knows what you did.”

  She suppressed a shudder. “Yes, he knows, and he wants the real code.”

  Drake ran his fingers through his hair, a worried scowl on his forehead. “Why on earth did you cross him when you had to realize he’d figure it out eventually. What did you hope to gain, particularly after you went to so much trouble to acquire the cipher in the first place?”

  “He promised to leave us alone if I went along with his scheme, but I knew he would never keep his word. So I decided to provide myself with a measure of insurance so he couldn’t so easily betray me. Do you believe me, then? Do you see that I had no choice?”

  “I’m starting to,” he said. “Tell me everything and start at the beginning, then I’ll decide what I do and do not believe.”

  Hugging a pillow to her chest, she unburdened herself to Drake, leaving nothing out from the moment Vacheau had shown up at the cottage last autumn to the hour she’d arrived back home in France. The only part she didn’t include were her feelings for Drake. She knew what he must think of her, and she couldn’t bring herself to admit that while she was carrying out her mission, she’d made the fatal error of falling in love with him.

  By the time she was through, Drake was leaning against the footboard, his arms crossed over his chest, a half-incredulous, half-furious expression on his face. “So let me make sure I understand you clearly. You hid the genuine cipher in a cave around here and, in exchange for it, you’re blackmailing Vacheau for a writ of safe passage signed by Napoleon himself?”

  “Yes, that about sums it up.”

  He raked a hand through his hair again. “Either you’re insane or far less intelligent than I gave you credit for being. My God, you can’t seriously think he’ll let you get away with this?”

  “He won’t have a choice,” she defended. “If he wants the cipher, he’ll have to give me the writ.”

  “And kill you the instant it’s in his hand. A man like that has no morals, no conscience. He won’t let you or your family go, Sebastianne. He’ll never quit.”

  With a sinking heart, she knew he was right. After all, it took a miracle to save a soul from the devil. “But what else was I to do? I couldn’t just hand the cipher over to him. I would have had nothing. He would simply have used me again.”

  A long silence fell, even the night creatures having gone quiet.

  “You could have come to me,” Drake said in a low voice. “You could have told me what you’ve just told me now and asked for my help.”

  She squeezed the pillow tighter against her chest. “I thought about it, those last few days in London. But what would you have done if I had come to you? If I had told you I had been deliberately placed in your household and that I was there to steal your code and hand it over to the French? You might have sympathized and offered to help me, but you might just as easily have had me clapped in chains and dragged off to Newgate.”

  Tossing the pillow aside, she leaned forward. “I couldn’t take that risk, not with my family’s well-being at stake. I couldn’t take the chance that you would look at me with hate in your eyes like you did when you came here this morning. That you would turn me away, turn me in.”

  “I don’t hate you,” he said thickly. “I admit I’ve been very angry since I found out what you’d done, but I don’t hate you.”

  “Are you sure? I’ve never seen you look at me the way you did today.”

  “And I never thought the woman I lo . . . the woman with whom I shared my bed and the most intimate details of my life could betray me the way you did. I was going to kidnap you, you know.”

  Her lips parted on a silent inhalation.

  “I’d planned to find you and separate you from anyone who might give you aid. Then I was going to cart you back to England with me.”

  She swallowed. “And afterward? Would you have seen me imprisoned? Punished? Humiliated?”

  Glancing through the darkness, he met her gaze. “I honestly don’t know. I told myself I wanted restitution, but now I’m no longer certain. Would I be taking you back to pay for stealing the cipher, or for lying and leaving me without so much as a word.”

  “I’m sorry, Drake. I never meant to hurt you, or any of the others. I did what I was forced to do, but I never liked it. I never wanted to deceive you. Please, after everything I’ve told you, you must believe that.”

  A long moment passed before he replied. “Strangely enough, I do.”

  An arrow of relief surged through her. “And I’m not lying now. I will never lie to you again.”

  “You swear?” he tested.

  “Yes. On my family’s honor.”

  He inclined his head. “Then I accept that promise and shall hold you to it.”

  “Since we’re being honest,” she said, idly studying the patterns of light and shadows playing against the walls. “I might as well tell you now that you cannot stay.”

  “What?”

  Her gaze flew back to his. “Surely you must see how much danger you are in just by being here? You’ve got to go while you still can. Before someone sees you and realizes you do not belong.”

  He shot her a fearsome scowl. “Do you really think I’m just going to abandon you and your family to your fate? Do you imagine I’m going to turn tail and run and let that knave do worse than blackmail you? I’m not going anywhere, Sebastianne.”

  “But you must, you have to for everyone’s safety.”

  “And let him double-deal you again? Let him have the cipher, then turn around and slit your throat?”

  She put a hand up to her neck, shuddering at the image he painted, one she knew to be a very real possibility.

  “No,” Drake said, uncompromising. “I’m going to stay and help you, and you’re going to let me.”

  Sebastianne stared at him. “But Drake—”

  “No buts. Come morning, you’re going to pack a few essentials for you and the boys and your father, then we’re all going to leave.”

  “You mean flee? Abandon the house?”

  He nodded. “That’s precisely what I mean. It won’t be easy traveling in such a large group without being noticed, but we’ll find a way.”

  “A way to where?”

  “England.”

  The air rushed out of her lungs, and, for a moment, she couldn’t breathe. “But I can’t go back to England. You must have told someone about the missing cipher and that I’m the one who took it. They’ll want to make an example of me even if you say you no longer do.” She gave her head an emphatic shake. ”No, I’m not going anywhere. This is my home, my family’s home, and I’m not deserting it.”

  Not again, she thought. She’d only just come back, she couldn’t leave again so soon. The boys would be upset and devastated to leave their friends and the only home they’d ever known. As for her father, well, he’d fled to England once and missed France so much he’d returned in spite of the dangers. Asking him to go again . . . well, succeeding at that would take persuasive abilities of a Herculean proportion.

  “Anne—Sebastianne, you must see that you don’t have the luxury of staying here anymore, however much you might wish it,” Drake said. “Vacheau is coming for that cipher, and once he has it, you’ll have no leverage left. Your only option is to run while you can.”

  She pulled the sheet over herself again, suddenly chilled in spite of the warm night.

  “I’ll do everything in my power to help you,” Drake went on, “but I cannot do it here in France. Once we’re back i
n England on my home soil, I can protect you and your family. My brother Edward has a great deal of influence and can smooth your way.”

  “And if he can’t? Or worse, if he won’t? I’ve met the duke, and he strikes me as a man who follows his conscience, regardless of what others may wish him to do, even his brothers.”

  “Ned is fair. He’ll hear you out and understand that you had your reasons for what you did.”

  “That still might not be enough.” Then a new thought occurred that made her stomach ache. “Anyway, how do I know you aren’t going to turn me in the moment we reach Britain? You said yourself you wanted revenge. How can I be sure you won’t act on that and betray me yourself?”

  His eyes glittered like emeralds in the low light. “You don’t,” he said bluntly. “You’ll just have to trust me, as I’ve agreed to trust you. And don’t forget about Vacheau and what he’ll do if you stay here. Better a refugee in England than dead here in France.”

  Yes, better alive and possibly in prison than used and murdered. Still, there had to be a way out. There were always options, even in the darkest of times—though at present she couldn’t think of a single one.

  “If I agree,” she said quietly, “will you give me your word that you’ll look after my family no matter what may happen to me? My brothers are innocent boys, and you know the state of my father’s mind. He is of no harm to anyone.”

  Leaning forward, Drake took her hand. “Matters may yet work out better than you imagine, but yes, I give you my word. I swear to you upon my honor as a gentleman that I shall care for your family.”

  At that, she relaxed, a strange calm sliding through her. The decision was made, and it was now out of her hands. Whatever happened would happen and she would have to let destiny decide the outcome.

  “Very well,” she agreed. “As for leaving tomorrow, I don’t see how it can be done. We’ll need at least a full day to prepare. The boys will want to say good-bye to their friends, and my father will insist on taking some of his books.”

  Drake shook his head. “We can’t afford to travel with books, but if it will satisfy him, I’ll promise to replace your father’s library once we’re back in England. As for your brothers, they cannot be allowed to say good-bye to anyone. No one can know we are leaving.”

  She drew in a breath. “Yes, you’re right. I suppose I was thinking of their feelings and not the dangers involved. But what shall we tell them? They don’t know anything about Vacheau.”

  “In Julien’s case, I wouldn’t be too sure of that.”

  Her stomach gave a flip.

  “If it allays your worries, however,” Drake hurried on, “we can say we’ve decided to take a trip. We’ll tell them the destination once we’re out of harm’s way.”

  “I’m not sure that will work, but we can make the attempt. Still, I’ll need the day. Morning isn’t enough time.”

  “It’ll have to suffice though I suppose we can depart in the afternoon if that will make things easier for everyone.”

  “It would, yes.”

  She tried to let the fatalistic calm roll through her again, but this time it didn’t want to come. “If that is the case, then we should both get as much rest as we can. I’ll need to pack some food and clothes and other essentials . . .”

  Her voice trailed off at the prospect of what she and her family must do. They’d lost so much already, but to lose their home and virtually everything they held dear, why, it was unthinkable.

  How could she ask them to go?

  Yet how could she not?

  Still, people were of infinitely more worth than possessions, and the lives of those she loved was the only thing that really mattered.

  Raising her gaze to Drake, she traced her eyes over his face, and knew she included him in that equation. For better or worse, she loved Drake Byron and knew she always would.

  “Yes, it is late,” he said. “I suppose I should return to that rack you call a sofa.” But even as he said the words, he made no effort to leave. Instead, he leaned forward and slowly extended his hand.

  She could have stopped him, she supposed, but she didn’t. Holding still, she let him stroke a length of her hair, twining it around his fingers before he let go again. Using only his fingertips this time, he glided them over her cheek and along her throat in a way that made her shudder. Her eyelids slid low, her lips parting as he moved his palm so that he cradled her head, his thumb pressed against the pulse point just under her skin so there was no hiding the maddened drumming of her heart.

  “Did you mean it?” he murmured with raw seduction.

  “Mean what?”

  “About being sorry? Are you really?”

  “Yes,” she swallowed convulsively. “I truly am sorry.”

  “Good. Then perhaps you’ll give me a chance to change your mind about the sleeping arrangements.”

  Her eyes flashed back open.

  “Don’t send me away, Sebastianne,” he whispered. Bending closer, he brushed his mouth over hers, warm, slow and easy. “Just say yes. That’s all you have to do. Say yes.”

  Chapter 30

  A firestorm of longing swept through Sebastianne the instant Drake’s mouth met hers, memories burning in her brain and blood as she thought about the last time they had kissed, the last night they’d made love.

  Mon Dieu, how she’d missed this.

  Missed him.

  The taste of his mouth, the scent and touch of his skin, were like nothing else she’d ever known. Being in his arms was sweet heaven—although perhaps hell might be a better description, since there was nothing the least bit saintly about the way he made her feel.

  Giving free license to her hunger and to the power of her love, she matched each slide of his mouth, every sultry, devastating stroke of his tongue. Yet she knew they could not go on, however much she might wish it to be. He wasn’t hers to keep, and she would be a fool to forget it.

  “Drake, we can’t,” she said breathlessly, wrenching her mouth away from his.

  “Why not?” he murmured darkly, kissing a path along her throat as he reached up a hand to cover one of her breasts through the thin material of her nightgown.

  Flames rippled over her skin. “B-because the cottage is small, and Papa and the boys might awaken.”

  He reached an arm around and shifted her so he could unfasten the short placket of buttons along the front of her bodice. “Your brothers are upstairs in the loft and won’t hear anything. As for your father, he was snoring so loudly when I made my way here to your room, I doubt anything less than an earthquake could wake him.”

  Papa did sleep soundly, it was true. Still . . .

  “B-but I’ll know. Besides, we have to awaken early tomorrow and have much to do before we depart. We need to sleep.”

  “Oh, we’ll sleep,” he drawled thickly. “Later.”

  Slipping open the front of her nightgown, he exposed her naked breasts to the warm night air. She trembled, damp heat collecting between her thighs. But when he lifted his hand to touch her again, she wrapped her fingers around the width of his wrist to prevent him.

  “No, Drake,” she said. “Don’t.”

  His head came up, his verdant, spring-colored eyes flashing warningly as they locked with her own. “No? Why not? Or was your former desire for me equal only to your need for information? Have I outlived my usefulness in that regard?”

  “No! That’s not it at all. I just . . .”

  “Just what?”

  And her real hesitation, one she hadn’t been able to fully reason out, not even in her thoughts, came surging to the surface. “Are you marrying her? Are you engaged? When we go back to London, will she be waiting for you?”

  An expression of utter confusion moved over his face. “Who? What are you talking about?”

  She swallowed, forcing herself to continue. “That young
woman, the lady in the park who had you hanging on her every word. Are you going to make her your wife? Mrs. Tremble said—”

  “Oh?” One of his brows arched high. “And what did Mrs. Tremble say?”

  “She told me it was quite the expected thing that you were going to propose to that girl . . . Miss Manning, I believe she was called.”

  “Manning? You mean Verity Manning?”

  “If that is her name, then yes.” Sebastianne tried to shrug away from him, but Drake held her in place.

  He stared for a moment before tossing his head back on a laugh.

  “Do be quiet,” she admonished, “or you really will wake all the others.”

  With obvious effort, he stifled his mirth, his lips continuing to twitch. “So you’re worried I’m going to marry Miss Manning, are you?”

  She shot him a fulminating glare. How dare he taunt her, his callous attitude slicing an even bigger hole in her heart. Perhaps this was how he planned to take his revenge. Maybe he wanted her to know she was nothing more than a plaything and how little she truly meant to him.

  “I had no idea you could be so jealous,” he remarked cheerfully. “I must confess I rather fancy seeing you like this.”

  This time she genuinely struggled to free herself from his hold.

  “Calm down,” he said, fitting her more tightly inside his arms. “I’m not engaged.”

  As soon as his words penetrated, she fell still. “You’re not?”

  “No. Although considering everything that’s happened, I probably should have tortured you a bit longer over the possibility that I was. A little more spark and fire on your part might have been amusing to see.”

  “So you’re not planning to marry her?”

  He shook his head. “No, I’m not. Despite my cook’s often excellent judgment, she is grievously mistaken in this instance. Verity Manning is most assuredly not my style.”

  “But you seemed so attentive to her that day, and she is an eligible English debutante.”

  “I am often attentive to eligible English debutantes. Such overtures are what is known in Society as ‘being polite.’ That doesn’t mean, however, that I have any interest in marrying one of them, since I most emphatically do not.”