Master Zane: The Rogue Aristocrat (Alpha Male Master Series Book 3)

by Maggie Carpenter

  I no who you are. Bring a 100 quid across the street and wait at the corner at 3. A man in a black cape will meet you. If you don't Ill tell everyone you were here having it on with the master. If you tell him or anyone else or if you don't bring the dosh, yor name will be mud. Jimmy Foster.

  "Foolish young man. He signed his name! Someone put him up to this. He wouldn't have the brains to even think about blackmailing you."

  "Do you think there's any connection to the man who attacked me? He was wearing a cape."

  "That's my thought too. Was he walking down the street when you came upon him, or was he loitering by the steps?"

  "He was just standing there when I came through the front door. I tried to move by him and he lunged at me."

  "Perhaps he was there waiting to meet up with this young scoundrel and made a rash decision to grab you. He could very well be the person behind this despicable scheme."

  "It's very frightening. What do you think he wanted when he grabbed me?"

  "Probably any valuables you might be carrying," Zane replied, silently wondering if there had been a more nefarious motive, "but you mustn't worry about any of this. I'll take care of it."

  "But how? You know how servants can gossip. If he makes good on his threat I shall be ruined, and my parents—I can't bear to think about it," she exclaimed breaking into a fresh set of tears. "What have I done?"

  "Flora, I promise this will never see the light of day," he said firmly, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tightly. "Hopefully you've learned a lesson from all this. Reckless behavior can lead to all sorts of problems."

  "I had no idea anything like this would happen," she sniffled, "but how can you be sure he won't tell everyone?"

  "Trust me, this young culprit will be sorry he ever tried something like this."

  "You're sure? Absolutely, positively sure?"

  "Yes, Flora, absolutely, positively sure, now dry your tears. Bancroft has probably brought in the tea by now. I'll just check."

  Gently releasing her, he rose to his feet and moved to where the bookcase had swung away from the wall.

  "Yes, he's there standing at attention," he said, peering through a tiny hole in the wall. "We'll go up the stairs to my room then come back down separately."

  "Servants," she said with a heavy sigh, "they can be such a burden."

  "This is true, but we'd be lost without them."

  "What are you going to do?" she asked as Zane flicked a switch on the wall illuminating the passageway ahead. "How can you stop that horrible footman from spreading his lies?"

  "You leave that to me."

  As they walked through the hallway and up the winding staircase, Zane considered his options. In Paris, dealing with the nasty lad would have been easy, but he'd just moved into Mayfair and didn't yet know the local authorities. He did have his official card, however, and he was fairly certain it would guarantee cooperation. They'd reached his bedroom, and as he gently pushed on what appeared to be a solid wall, it swung open, and Flora gazed into his sumptuous bedroom.

  "My goodness," she breathed, "it's fit for a King."

  An intricately carved four post bed sat center stage boasting an elaborately embroidered multi-colored bedspread, and a breathtakingly beautiful secretary stood austerely against a wall. There was a chest of drawers featuring fine patterns of inlaid wood, matching the nightstands on each side of the bed. The room was large, and the fireplace mantle looked to be solid marble. Paintings in gold frames graced the walls, and though she was wearing shoes she could feel the soft thick carpet under her feet.

  "My bedroom is my sanctuary, and I have a love of beauty."

  As he smiled down at her he felt his heart stir. Why did he have such feelings for her? It confounded him, and yet he felt a sudden compulsion to sweep her up, take her to his bed, and utterly devour her inch-by-every-beautiful-inch.

  "I feel the same," she whispered, reading the longing in his eyes. "I have never wanted to be with a man before, but I do now. I want to be with you."

  "Flora, you and I—"

  Before he could finish her arms were around his neck, her breasts were pressing urgently against his chest, and she was pressing her lips against his, kissing him with uninhibited lust. His cock stiffened, and though he tried to fight the desire raging through him his fever was burning white hot. Yielding to his flaming need he swept her up, and with their lips still dancing he carried her to his bed, laid her down and stretched out alongside her.

  "You are the most gorgeous creature," he breathed journeying his hands across her breasts, lingering for only a moment before wrestling up her dress and petticoats to press his hand against the gusset of her knickers.

  The dampness under his fingers was a testament to her excitement, and he longed to strip her naked and slowly explore every part of her glorious body, but Anne Barkley would be arriving at any time. With deft expertise he loosened the cord at the waist, slid his hand underneath the silk fabric, and sent his fingers past her curly bush and into her slick sex. She was softly moaning, and a barely discernible voice at the back of his mind was reminding him a future with her was virtually impossible, but it only made him more determined to share the intimate moment.

  As he rubbed her mystical nub her moans grew urgent, and his stiffened cock trapped uncomfortably in his trousers was desperate for air. Quickly releasing himself, he indulged by resting his member against her thigh as he brought her closer to her climax. When she suddenly gasped, then cried out his name, he increased his fervent massage, and moments later he watched in glorious delight as the spasms seized her.

  Flora had brought herself pleasure many times but never had it felt so divine. Zane's fingers were doing things she'd never imagined, his lips were traveling from her neck to her mouth and back again, and his free hand was squeezing her breasts through her dress. The scintillating sensations were flowing through her unabated, until she finally fell limp against the soft bedcovers. She was floating on a serene cloud, though she thought she heard him groaning. A moment later she felt him slip from the bed, but he quickly returned and pulled her into his arms.

  "How are you?"

  "Zane, I have never felt so marvelous. I want to be with you this way every day and every night forever."

  "You don't know me very well," he said grimly. "I suspect your friend Anne will make inquiries and you will understand why…"

  "Why what?"

  "Flora, I promised I would never lie to you," he said tentatively. "You're about to leave here and it's doubtful we'll have the opportunity to be together like this again."

  "Don't say that," she whimpered. "We must. I don't care what's been said about you. I don't care one bit."

  "You have to care because others will," he said solemnly, then propping himself on an elbow he gazed down at her.

  "I know what you're going to say, Zane, and I won't let you!"

  "I care about you deeply, Flora, and perhaps it was wrong of me to allow this moment to happen."

  "No, no, it wasn't," she protested. "Don't say that. There was nothing wrong about it. Not a thing!"

  "We've only just met, you don't know me, and I must tell you I am a rogue. It has been said that I must be related to Casanova, and you, my sweet beautiful flower, are pure and chaste."

  "All you're really saying is that you've been with other women. Of course you have. I didn't take you for a monk."

  "Many other women, not a few, many!"

  "How many?"

  "Flora!"

  "So many you don't know?"

  "Honestly I have no idea. Women have always been drawn to me, and I have always enjoyed their company."

  Sitting up Flora brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, then turning her head she fixed him with a steady gaze.

  "You promised you'd never lie to me, so if I ask you a question you'll tell me the truth? The absolute truth?"

  "Of course."

  "You won't be evasive?"

 
"For goodness sake!"

  "You won't be evasive?" she pressed.

  "No, I won't be evasive."

  "All those women…have you ever felt for any of them what you feel for me?"

  Of all the questions she could have asked, it was one he did not anticipate. He was trapped.

  "You may be childish sometimes," he said slowly, "but you are quite extraordinary."

  "So, you haven't?"

  Willing his heart to stop racing, he took a deep breath.

  "No, Flora, no, I haven't."

  "Yet you were about to tell me you don't wish to see me again, that it's for the best, and I'll bet you were also going to say I need a man who is more…oh, what's the word? Customary. Is that what you were going to say?"

  "Yes, Flora, that's what I was going to say, and as much as I hate it, it's true," he said with a deep frown. "I want to be with you again but life is not so simple."

  "I'm very disappointed in you Zane De'Ville," she said crisply. "I thought you were made of stronger stuff."

  "Excuse me?"

  "Don't worry, it doesn't change how I feel about you. Nothing will ever change how I feel about you. I'm as certain of that as I am the sun will rise in the morning. I also know young ladies aren't supposed to speak plainly, but I'm not like other young ladies, though you still don't understand that."

  "I most certainly do under—"

  "I haven't finished," she said sharply, cutting him off. "You say I don't know you, that you're a rogue. Do you think I'm surprised by this news? You are handsome and charming and wealthy, not to mention French. Of course you're a rogue. All men are rogues until they meet the right woman. For goodness sake, Zane, don't you see? Finally, after all those naked females gracing your bed you have met the right one."

  "Flora!"

  "I told you I'm not like other young ladies," she exclaimed. "It's one of the things you adore about me, yet there's a part of you that keeps denying it. Anyway, I'm disappointed in you because apparently you can be a coward and a fool."

  "I am not a coward or a fool," he retorted wishing he didn't feel so awkward and defensive.

  "I didn't say you are, I said you can be, and obviously I'm right. All those women, and you finally meet one that's special and you can't be bothered fighting for her."

  "It's you I'm worried about, you and your reputation."

  "My heart's happiness is far more important than people's gossip. You say you don't want me, but the reasons you have cited are ridiculous. No matter! I shall cry and curse you and stamp my feet and then go on with my life, but you, Zane, will you regret letting me go? I suspect one day you will wake up and say, Flora was right. I was a coward and a fool. I should have seen what she did."

  He watched in stupefied silence as she moved quickly off the bed, tied the knot to hold up her knickers, and started towards the door. He wanted to call after her, he wanted to stop her from leaving, he wanted to grab her and hold her and kiss her and tell her he adored her and he'd talk with her father, but he couldn't quite bring himself to do it. Was she right? Was he being a coward and a fool?

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  After a great deal of pondering Zane could think of only one solution, and though it went against his moral compass, protecting Flora from Jimmy Foster's blackmail threat was his top priority. It only took him about thirty-minutes to set the stage, and after returning from a quick trip to the local police station he directed Bancroft to assemble the staff in the foyer at precisely 2:45 p.m.

  Lining up under the watchful eye of Mrs. Davis and the austere butler, wondering why they'd all been summoned, the servants stood nervously waiting. When the doorbell rang and Bancroft ushered in several policemen alarm rippled through the gathering. Zane waited, watching unseen from the gallery above, allowing the fear to creep through their bones, then marching down the stairs he strode to the center of the foyer and faced them with a grim expression.

  "The police are here because I have discovered some valuable items are missing," he began. "This is deeply distressing. You work here in a position of trust but one of you has seen fit to steal. This is a large home, and perhaps the guilty party thinks because these items are small they will not be missed. Let me assure each and every one of you that I know precisely what is in this house, and where each item is placed. The police will be making a thorough search of your rooms under the watchful eye of Bancroft and Mrs. Davis. You will remain here while they do so."

  As the butler and head housekeeper led the policemen up the stairs, Zane glanced across at Jimmy Foster. He could see the hint of a smile. The ambitious young footman had no idea he was about to be arrested for stealing, and across the street more officers were waiting to pick up his accomplice.

  When Zane had visited the local police station he had presented official documents that validated his name and title, and was immediately escorted to the station's chief by a very nervous sergeant. Not only had Zane told the chief about the missing items, he'd also mentioned he had been passing above the servants entrance when he'd overheard the first footman, Jimmy Foster, making arrangements to meet up with someone across the street at three o'clock to hand over the valuables.

  It took only a few minutes for the constables to uncover the stolen items in Jimmy's room. The footman was led away vehemently claiming his innocence and yelling that Lady Flora Braithwaite had been in the house, and the 'French bastard' had taken advantage of her. Watching the staff, Zane could see they were shocked by what was happening, and disgusted by the accusation.

  "You keep that up you thieving scoundrel and you won't have a good time of it at the station," the officer in charge barked as he hustled him out into the street. "You dare to thieve then make a claim against your employer and a member of a fine noble family like the Braithwaites? You make me sick."

  As Bancroft closed the door behind them, Zane returned to the center of the foyer to finish addressing his staff.

  "As you probably know, Lady Flora Braithwaite was staying here for a short time. She had lost her memory from a nasty fall. Mrs. Davis was taking care of her, and it was only last night that I learned of her identity. She returned to her home this morning. This is a delicate matter and one that requires your discretion. If I hear a single word of gossip, the party in question will be fired without a reference. You will not discuss it among yourselves or outside of this house. Do I make myself clear?"

  There was a mumbled yes sir, from the group and a collective nodding of heads.

  "You are dismissed. Continue with your duties."

  He watched them file out, then walked into his study and closed the door. Flora was now safe from the lurid blackmail threat, but his adage, there is no truth that is worse than a lie, had been shattered.

  Moving across to the fireplace he stared down at the flames. It was a habit. The crackling warmth and dancing fire would sooth his soul, but he could find no peace. The ruse he'd manufactured had required a series of lies and he felt strangely disconnected from who he was and his place in the world.

  Had he been in Paris he could easily have met up with the Prefect of Police, Henri-Auguste Lozé. Henri had been a close friend of his father's and Zane would have felt comfortable confiding in him. The matter would have been quickly and quietly dealt with, but in London he had no such connections and he couldn't leave anything to chance. Flora was too important to him. Her reputation and her happiness mattered too much. Gazing at the flames he was reminded how he'd asked her for an everyday example in which his adage, there is no truth that is worse than a lie, could be proven wrong. Now he had it.

  He had lied for her! What was happening to him? What spell was he under?

  Just the thought of her sent a heavy sadness into his heart. He wanted to see her. He wanted to tell her the danger had passed. He wanted to hold her. He wanted to kiss her and caress her and listen to her utterances of pleasure, and the question she'd posed loomed large.

  All those women…have you ever felt for any of them what you feel for me?
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  "My answer true, Flora," he muttered. "I have not, but what is it I feel? I cannot put a name to it. I miss your presence here. I miss your naughty impudence. I miss your eyes. I miss that pink blush that so sweetly crosses your face. I miss everything about you. Is this what it is to fall in love?"

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Flora had been welcomed home with many hugs and a great fuss. Once the celebratory reunion had settled and Anne had left, Flora changed into a fresh set of clothes then joined her parents and brother in the dining room for a late lunch. They kept insisting on more information about where she'd been staying, and finally Flora decided she needed to offer them more than evasive answers.

  "I'll tell you this much," she began, choosing her words carefully. "I did go to Anne's to begin with."

  "Aha," her father exclaimed. "I knew that woman was involved."

  "Now, Walter, don't get yourself in a dither," his wife said hastily. "Let Flora finish!"

  "Yes, yes, my apologies, Flora, my dear," her father said quickly not wanting to upset her. "We were all in such a state while you were gone. Please continue."

  "Father, just so you understand, Anne did not suggest I go to her place, nor did she encourage me to do so. It was my idea. The truth is," she said pausing dramatically, "I overheard you speaking to Prince Gerhard in the library the night of the dinner party. I wasn't eavesdropping, I was simply walking by. What I heard was very upsetting."

  "I see," Walter said grimly. "I only wanted what was best for you and I still do."

  "Father, let's not get into a discussion about that," George said tactfully. "We all know Flora has her own mind about these things. Keep going, Flora. We're anxious to hear the rest."

  "I showed up at Anne's, but just a few minutes later I heard you come in and when you started bellowing—"

  "Bellowing!" Walter protested. "I wasn't bellowing."

  "Sorry, father, but you were. I was there," George said raising his eyebrows.

  "Walter, would you please stop interrupting the girl," Margaret said testily. "Let her finish, for pity's sake."