The Danger in Tempting an Earl

by Sophie Barnes

  Katherine dearly hoped so. She longed for it all to be over so they could bring Sophia home and move on with their lives.

  “I still can’t believe you rendered a man unconscious with a vase,” Lucien said a while later as they sat across from each other in the upstairs salon with a few plates of food between them.

  “Neither can I. Slammed it right into his skull,” she confided. “Impressive what a life-threatening situation can do to a person. All I knew was that I had to escape.”

  “And you did brilliantly, my dear. I couldn’t be prouder of you, though I do believe I will have to ask Parker to lock away the crystal.”

  Katherine chuckled as she bit into a chunk of cheese. “Do you fear for your life, my lord?”

  “I fear for my sanity,” he whispered as his eyes met hers. “You’ve no idea how terrified I was when Starkly arrived to inform me you’d gone missing. It felt as if my heart was being ripped from my chest.”

  Looking at Lucien, she knew that it was true. “I love you too,” she said as she reached out her hand, wrapping it around his larger one. “It will be a relief to put all of this behind us.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” Lucien said, “but until word arrives that Lady Trapleigh has been caught, we must still be careful.”

  “I suppose this means that I must continue my confinement,” she said, disliking the notion.

  Lucien nodded. “It’s for the best, Kate. We have to do what we can to keep you safe until she’s apprehended.” Picking up a grape, he offered it to Katherine.

  “What if she’s never found?” The thought of looking over her shoulder forever was unbearable.

  “I don’t know what we’ll do then, but let’s not worry about that until we have good reason to. She’s only just gone missing, and if Starkly can rally the Home Office, then I’ve every confidence she’ll turn up soon enough.”

  Katherine sincerely hoped so, not only because she wanted to move on with her life but also because she wanted answers—­answers that only Lady Trapleigh could give her.

  “Begging your pardon,” Parker announced, appearing in the doorway, “but her ladyship’s bath is now ready.”

  “Thank you,” Lucien said.

  “Speaking of Bath, will you accompany me when I fetch Sophia home?” Katherine asked.

  “Of course.” He smiled as he rose and held his hand toward her. “But first I will escort you to your room.”

  Heat prickled Katherine’s skin and her pulse began to dance in response to the dark gaze he was offering her. She chastised herself for her silliness, for it was hardly as if he was going to toss out the maids and make love to her in a small tub. Yet there was something devilish about him right now—­something that stirred her blood and excited her senses, even though she couldn’t quite define what it was.

  “Here we are,” Lucien said as they entered her chamber, where two maids stood ready to assist, one busily heating more water in a pot that hung over the fire. Lowering his lips to Katherine’s ear, he whispered, “Feel free to request some privacy once they’ve helped you disrobe.”

  A hot flush rose to Katherine’s cheeks and she felt her stomach tighten, but before she had a chance to gather her wits and respond, Lucien had left the room, closing the door behind him.

  “If you’ll please step this way, my lady,” one of the maids said, “we’ll help you out of your gown and into the bath.”

  In a daze, Katherine complied, allowing the two maids to bustle about. The pampering felt good after the day’s hectic events. “Would you like us to wash your hair as well?” the maids inquired as soon as Katherine had lowered herself into the water.

  “No, thank you,” Katherine murmured. “In fact, I can wash myself if you’d be so kind as to hand me the soap.”

  They looked a bit hesitant about that, as if worried that they might be chastised for not doing what would ordinarily have been expected of them.

  “It’s quite all right,” Katherine assured them. “It’s just that I’d like to be alone with my thoughts.”

  “Very well then,” the maids said, bobbing curtsies as they took their leave.

  Once they were gone, Katherine sighed heavily, closed her eyes and leaned back against the edge of the tub, luxuriating in the feel of the warm water against her skin. It was most soothing.

  A soft click sounded, followed by the hushed tread of footsteps upon the plush carpet. Opening her eyes, Katherine found Lucien gazing down at her with smoldering eyes. He was dressed in a moss green velvet robe. A smile tugged at Katherine’s lips. There could be no doubt about his intentions, and the knowledge made her brazen.

  Picking up the soap that was sitting on a small dish beside the tub, she rubbed it between her hands to produce a thick lather. Raising one arm, she then swept the lather slowly along the length of it. “As you can see, I followed your advice—­not a maid in sight.”

  “Thank God for that,” Lucien murmured, his eyes fixed on the motion of her hand as she slowly soaped herself.

  Finished with one arm, she directed her attention to the other, attempting the most sensual movements she could manage. Lucien’s lips parted and his breathing grew increasingly labored, judging from the heavy rise and fall of his chest. Katherine’s heart soared, happy with the effect she was having on him. How invigorating it was to be looked upon with the deep longing that glowed in his eyes.

  Sitting up, Katherine brought her breasts out from beneath the surface of the water and ran her fingertips across them. Lucien groaned, the sound a gentle plea of encouragement that brought out the wanton within her. Arching her back, she applied the soap, then set it aside and began to massage each breast, reveling in how full and heavy they grew beneath her touch. When she carefully squeezed one of her pebbling nipples in the same way Lucien had done before, a surge of energy rushed between her thighs, where it swirled about until it began to ache.

  “Do you like touching yourself like that?” Lucien asked. His voice sounded raspy.

  “I like that you’re watching me do it,” she murmured, for it was the truth.

  “Tell me how it feels,” he urged as he untied the sash of his robe and allowed the garment to slip from his shoulders. He was naked beneath, and heavily aroused. Katherine couldn’t help but stare, her movements stilling as she did so. “Don’t stop,” he muttered. “A woman ought to know how to take her own pleasure. I want to watch you take yours.”

  A gasp escaped Katherine’s lips at the wickedness of his suggestion. Surely she couldn’t be that bold.

  As if reading her mind, Lucien placed his own hand upon his erect member and said, “Please, Kate—­do it for me.”

  His words broke her and she quietly nodded, increasingly impassioned by the indecency of it all and loving the groans that came from Lucien each time she tugged at her nipples.

  “Lean back,” he told her, his voice hoarse and insistent. She did as he asked, lowering her body farther into the water. “Now raise one leg. Hitch it over the edge of the tub and lift your hips.” Again she complied, producing a position so scandalous it would have made a harlot blush. “Now show me . . . show me where you want me the most.”

  Katherine looked at him and at the figure he portrayed as he stood there before her completely nude, his eyes blazing with intense need. He was at his most vulnerable right now, and the knowledge—­the trust he was placing in her—­dissolved all of her own apprehensions.

  Slipping her fingers along her leg, she carefully touched the juncture between her thighs.

  “Yes,” Lucien muttered, “like that.”

  Stunned by how good it felt, Katherine did it again. She’d never thought to give herself pleasure before and had certainly never imagined doing so with someone watching. Now, as tingles started up her legs and waves of heat spiraled outward along her limbs, she found it difficult to understand why. Her fingers found the sp
ot that Lucien had stroked the day before, and sparks took flight, urging her to accelerate her movements, to tense her muscles and tilt her hips until finally, she shattered before him.

  “My God,” Lucien gasped, and before Katherine could return to solid ground, he’d scooped her up in his arms and marched across to the bed, clearly not caring how wet the bedclothes would become.

  Setting her down against the pillows, he climbed up between her thighs and lowered his head to her most intimate part. Katherine squealed from the shock of it, but with one flick of his tongue, he swiftly made her writhe beneath him as she gasped for air.

  Heavens, this feels good!

  He spread her wider with his hands and thrust one finger inside her while his tongue continued to work its magic. It wasn’t long before Katherine felt the stirrings of another climax coming on fast, so when he added a second finger, she promptly flew apart on a scream of ecstasy.

  “I have to have you now,” he told her earnestly as he leaned over her, his hand caressing her waistline.

  Katherine blinked. “I didn’t think I’d be able to do that so soon after . . . you know.”

  Lucien grinned. “My dear, as long as you’re in the mood, I don’t see why you shouldn’t come for me as often as you choose.”

  “Good heavens, Lucien. Does your mother know that you talk like that?” His wicked words had made her all hot and desperate again.

  “Heaven forbid,” he said as he lowered his lips to hers, kissing her thoroughly and with so much passion that Katherine had to wonder how she’d never noticed his desire for her until now. “I suggest we keep it that way,” he added.

  His hand slipped between them, teasing her gently. “Don’t stop,” she whispered as she tilted her hips in invitation.

  Lucien chuckled. “Why, Kate, I do believe you’ve lost your inhibitions.”

  “I daresay you may be right.”

  “Hmm . . . I like it.” He nibbled her shoulder. “You’re ready for me now, and I’ve no desire to wait another second to claim you.”

  And as he slid inside her, filling her, Katherine knew she’d rather die than be separated from this man. “I love you,” she whispered as he kissed his way along her neck.

  “I love you too,” he muttered, his hands shifting to her hips as he thrust himself in and out of her. “I always have.”

  Once again, as if by magic, the tingles started. They rose up her legs to pool between her thighs, where the intensity of them grew gradually stronger until she felt herself burst with blinding light. A deep, guttural groan escaped Lucien a second later, and she felt him spilling himself inside her. The thought would have terrified her last week, for she’d vowed never to remarry, unwilling to suffer the torture that Charles had subjected her to. Now, however, she thrilled at the possibility of carrying Lucien’s child, so when he quietly settled himself beside her, cradling her close, she felt nothing but happy contentment.

  Chapter 19

  Seated in a secluded corner of the dining room at The Fox and Hound, Laura Islington, Countess of Trapleigh, stabbed at the chicken she’d ordered from one of the waitresses. She was furious. If she ever got her hands on Mr. Hendricks again, she would wring the imbecile’s neck—­finish him off before the authorities got to him. She never should have trusted him to watch over Lady Crossby while she made arrangements for the lady’s disappearance.

  Leaning back in her seat, Laura drummed her fingers against the tabletop and took a healthy sip of her wine. What a mess this had turned out to be. If only she hadn’t botched up that shot at the ball, but when she’d seen Lady Rebecca approach the spot where Lady Crossby had stood, she’d taken a risk, hoping to kill Lady Crossby before Lady Rebecca had gotten any closer. Instead, she’d managed to shoot the one person she’d actually come to like. It was a veritable catastrophe!

  Picking up her knife, she diced the potatoes and forked a few pieces of them into her mouth. What the hell was she going to do? Even the treasured letter that Charles had sent her had disappeared. She took another sip of her wine, hoping to drown the pain that caused. She’d been desperately in love with him, poor devil that he’d been. It was tragic really, the way in which a life could be shaped by the evil deeds of others.

  It had broken her heart when he’d told her that he was getting married, but she’d understood his reasoning—­had known that she and Charles could have no future together as long as his past haunted him. Now, as he lay cold and alone in the ground while his widow seemed increasingly ready to do the one thing he had hoped to prevent, Laura thought of everything Charles had given up—­years of his life wasted in an unhappy marriage, the chance to share his future with the woman he loved . . . his health.

  There was no doubt in Laura’s mind that it was his marriage to Lady Crossby that had killed him by prompting the deep depression that had eventually led to his addiction. His only satisfaction throughout it all had come from knowing that he’d finally bested Roxberry, but if Roxberry were to marry Lady Crossby anyway, then all of Charles’s sacrifices, including her own, would have been for nothing. Laura couldn’t allow that to happen. Her love for Charles and her devotion to his cause left her with little choice but to stop Lady Crossby by any means necessary. This would be her final tribute to Charles—­to take Lady Crossby away from Lord Roxberry forever.

  A thought struck her, and she smiled. There was time yet if she hurried. Finishing her meal and downing the remainder of her wine, Laura paid the waitress and started for the door. She was about to be bold and reckless, no doubt, but that didn’t frighten her. Presently, the only thing she feared was failure, because when it came to the man she loved, she would do anything for him, even if it meant sacrificing her own life by risking capture.

  It was late by the time she arrived at the back entrance to Roxberry House, but Laura had intended it that way. Standing in the shadows, she watched from a distance as a groom flirted with a scullery maid. The door to the mews stood open, forgotten by the ­couple, allowing Laura a view of the space beyond.

  “I think I’m going to turn in,” the groom said, pulling the scullery maid toward him. “Care to join me?”

  “You know as well as I that Parker will sack us on the spot if he finds out,” the scullery maid said.

  “Oh, come now—­everyone’s gone to bed. It’s unfair that you should work as hard as you do without any amusement. At least let me ease your burden a bit.” He tugged her closer. “How about giving me a kiss?”

  She did, her free hand going about the groom’s neck while water sloshed from her bucket. Laura took the opportunity to sneak past them and enter the house. “Did you hear something?” she heard the scullery maid ask as the door squeaked shut.

  “Not a thing,” the groom assured her.

  Expelling a breath, Laura headed down a hallway, past the kitchen and toward the servants’ stairs. She paused to listen. Everything was perfectly still. With quiet footsteps, she started up the steps, jumping at the sound of a grandfather clock chiming midnight as she entered the downstairs hallway. Composing herself, she went toward the next flight of stairs and began her upward journey. Her eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness, which was occasionally interrupted by the glow of streetlights through some of the uncurtained windows. Even so, she’d no idea where Lady Crossby might be sleeping and would have to make a guess. Hopefully, she would pick the correct bedroom and avoid an altercation with Roxberry.

  Arriving on the landing, she paused for a moment as she looked about. To her left was a room with the doors flung open. Squinting through the darkness, she determined that it had to be a salon of some sort. She swiveled her head to the right and started down the corridor. There were four doors, two on each side of her. On a deep, steadying breath, she reached out and tried one of the door handles. It was unlocked, and the door opened easily enough. Laura entered the room as silently as a burglar and glanced about, studying the space.
It looked like a comfortable bedroom, though the bed was empty. Grabbing one of the pillows, she moved on, entering another room, wherein she found Lady Roxberry fast asleep, the occasional snore reverberating through the air. Backing out of the room, Laura went to the other side of the corridor and tried a different door. It swung open effortlessly and she stepped quietly inside, the heavy breathing of deep slumber flowing toward her.

  Crossing the floor, Laura hovered at the edge of the bed and looked down at the sleeping form of Lady Crossby. Laura had never taken a life before, and she was well aware that doing so would not be easy. But she’d loved Charles—­she still did—­and she wanted to do this for him.

  Clutching the pillow between her fingers, she took a deep breath and fought for resolve. She then raised the pillow over Lady Crossby’s head and carefully brought it down over her nose and mouth. There was a beat, then Lady Crossby’s hands flew up in an attempt to push the pillow away. Leaning forward, Laura pushed down harder while Lady Crossby’s body began to writhe back and forth, her legs kicking out in an attempt to push away her assailant. She caught hold of Laura’s wrist and pushed at it with such force that Laura momentarily lost her footing, loosening her hold on the pillow just enough for Lady Crossby’s scream to be heard.

  Fear hugged Laura and she quickly pushed down on the pillow again, muffling Lady Crossby’s sounds of distress. If only she could hold the pillow in place a few seconds longer, Laura was sure she’d succeed in her task, but in the next instant, strong hands grabbed her arms and pulled her backward, and then she heard the deep rumble of Lord Roxberry’s voice saying, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He turned her around and began shaking her, dark fury lighting his eyes. His gaze shifted toward the bed. “Kate? Are you all right?”

  “Y-yes,” Lady Crossby gasped. Sitting up, she stared accusingly at her attacker.