Sylvia Day - [Georgian 02]

by Passion for the Game

That low, raspy voice curled around her spine. Tears fell, and she brushed them away as her pace quickened. Her hand curled around the doorknob, but before she could turn it she found herself trapped. Christopher’s arms caged her, his body pressed tightly to hers.

  “You forfeit your dream to reunite with your sister in favor of sparing my life.” He pressed his cheek ardently to her temple. “You tell me of your love for me. Yet you cannot ask me for assistance?”

  “Our lives diverge here,” she whispered, her throat too tight to speak any louder, “as they should. You are free and safe, my path goes on. I will have Amelia, never doubt it. But I cannot do it this way—at your expense. I will find something of equal value to Eddington.”

  “You show me no mercy by sparing me for a life without you in it,” he said roughly.

  Maria began to shake, and he wrapped his arms around her.

  “I know, Maria. I know he has offered Amelia in return for me. I know how much she means to you. You risked your life attempting to save her.” He hunched over her, burying his hot face in her neck. “What I did not know was that you would confess all to me and attempt to save my life, despite knowing of Sedgewick and the rest. My God . . .” His voice broke. “How deeply you must love me to take this action. I am not worthy.”

  “You know?” Her hands clutched at his.

  “Tim came to me today. He related Eddington’s visit and your agreement. He also overheard Eddington speaking to a man waiting in his coach for him. He said he ordered the retrieval of your sister some days ago and was awaiting news. I pray my men were successful in preventing her abduction, but we cannot be certain.”

  She struggled against him until he freed her, then she spun to face him directly. “We must assume he has her, then.”

  He looked at her with such tenderness. “So despite your attempt to spare me, I must still go tonight. I have no goods here in Town—that was simply a ruse to see if you would betray me—but I have my confession and I will exchange that for Amelia.”

  Maria swiped furiously at her tears, hating that she was unable to see his face as he said this to her. “You knew of my agreement with Eddington . . . and you were still prepared to go?”

  “Of course,” he said simply.

  “Why?”

  “For the same reason you knew of Sedgewick and attempted your sacrifice regardless. I love you, Maria. More than my life.” His smile was bittersweet. “Today I believed I loved you as much as I was able. Now, however, I love you many times more than that.”

  Maria reached back for the doorknob to support her weakening knees, but it was not enough. She sank to the floor in a puddle of lavender skirts and white underskirts, her foil across her lap.

  “That’s it?” she whispered. “That is all you have to say?”

  “Teasing wench.” He crouched before her and cupped her face in his large hands. He pressed his smiling lips to hers with heartbreaking reverence. She clutched his wrists and kissed him back with near desperation.

  “I love you.” The raw emotion in his voice made her push up to her knees and surge into his arms. His returning embrace was so tight, it crushed the breath from her.

  “They have set us against each other,” she said. “Must we allow them to break us apart?”

  “No.” He pulled back to look at her. “Do you have a suggestion? Until we have Amelia, we are weakened.”

  “We need to limit the number of players in this game. We have too many annoyances, and they are distracting us from our goals.”

  Christopher nodded, his mind lost in thought. “Together we should be clever enough to find a way . . . Welton, Sedgewick, and Eddington. Eddington may have Amelia, so we tolerate him . . . but Welton and Sedgewick . . .”

  A possibility entered Maria’s head and she quickly tried to discredit it. When the odds remained in their favor, she smiled.

  “I love it when you look wicked,” Christopher said.

  “Shall we change the rules, my love? Shall we reverse our positions and set them against one another?”

  “Devious and audacious.” He grinned. “Whatever it is, I like it.”

  “We need parchment and ink, and three of your fastest and most obstinate riders. These notes must be delivered, regardless of where the recipients are.”

  “Done.” Christopher stood and pulled her to her feet. “Who would have thought that setting the two most wanted individuals in England against each other would lead to a collaboration on so many levels?”

  “We might have thought of it”—she winked—“had we been orchestrating the matter.”

  He laughed and hugged her close. “I pity the world now that we act as one.”

  “Save your pity for yourself,” Maria said. “You have me for the rest of your life.”

  “Never a dull moment, love.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I would not have it any other way.”

  Chapter 22

  To the unsuspecting eye, the occupants of a single unmarked carriage and multiple outriders were the only persons at the darkened wharf.

  Maria stepped down from the coach and walked in plain view, the footman at her side holding a lamp aloft to draw all attention to her. Behind her, in the darkness, Christopher was slipping down through a hidden trapdoor in his carriage. He would see to his part of their plan while she saw to hers.

  “Damn it, Maria!”

  Welton’s harsh voice made her jump, but then a slow inner smile warmed her. As she turned around, she kept her face mildly disdainful.

  “What the devil is this?” he muttered, striding toward her with his greatcoat flaring around his long legs. “Why so dramatic a location? And with damnable short notice? I was busy.”

  “‘Busy’ to you means gaming or whoring,” she said scornfully. “Forgive me if I feel little regret for the inconvenience.”

  He stepped into the circle of light, and as always, Maria was taken aback by the masculine beauty of his features. She supposed she would never cease expecting to see some outer evidence of his inner rot, yet he appeared to neither age nor suffer the ill effects of remorse.

  “It is not safe to meet with you anywhere else,” she said, stepping back when he came too close so that he would be forced to speak loudly. “Eddington did not wish to bed me, as you assumed. He suspects me of the deaths of Winter and Dayton. He means to see me hang for your crimes.”

  The viscount cursed viciously. “He can prove nothing.”

  “He says he has found the person who concocted the poisons you used.”

  “Impossible. I killed that crone myself when she became greedy. A blade in the heart permanently silenced her.”

  “Regardless, he has found someone who will testify against me and he means to see me hang.”

  Welton’s green eyes narrowed dangerously. “Then why are you here? Why are you not in custody?”

  She gave a bitter laugh. “He noted my association with St. John. You can imagine how it pleases him to have the leverage to extort my cooperation.”

  “He will have to go the way of Winter and Dayton, then.” His finely etched lips pursed with thought.

  Maria marveled at the ease with which the viscount talked about murder. By what design would such evil hide within a perfect physical shell?

  “You would poison another agent of the Crown?” she asked, her voice pitched louder in mock horror.

  He laughed. “I am amazed I can continue to surprise you. Don’t you know me well enough by now?”

  “Apparently I can still be appalled at the depths to which you aspire. You killed Dayton and Winter for their money. While I detested your avarice, I understood your motivation. Greed is a universal vice. But murdering Eddington simply because he annoys you is . . . Well, I would have thought that beyond even you.”

  Welton shook his head. “I will never understand you. Here I have provided you with titles and wealth, and now I seek to ensure your freedom and you are, as ever, completely ungrateful.”

  “By God!” boomed a voice that
startled them both. “This is excellent!”

  The tapping of heels drew their gazes to the approaching shadows that appeared to be two men. Lord Sedgewick and Christopher entered the small circle of light.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Welton asked, moving toward Maria.

  Christopher swiftly sidestepped into his path, protecting her from possible harm. “This is the end of the road for you, my lord.”

  Sedgewick rocked back on his heels, his smile wide. “You’ve no notion what this will do for my career. To have caught the man responsible for the deaths of Dayton and Winter. Brilliant, St. John, absolutely brilliant.”

  “You have nothing,” Welton said as he looked at Maria. “She will testify that I am innocent of any wrongdoing.”

  “Not so,” she said with a wide smile. “I look forward to affirming Lord Eddington’s relation of tonight’s events.”

  “Eddington?” Sedgewick asked, scowling. “How does he signify?”

  “I am the man who will see you stripped of your duties,” Eddington said, joining the growing crowd. “And of course there is Lord Welton here, whose confession of his crimes was heard by too many people to be discounted.”

  More lanterns flared to life around them, revealing an astonishing number of individuals—Runners, soldiers, and lackeys.

  It was altogether too perfect. The three men toppled each other. Eddington mitigated Sedgewick’s hold over St. John, and Sedgewick mitigated Welton’s hold over Maria.

  “Dear God,” Welton breathed. His head whipped toward Maria, his features contorted with pure rage. Finally, he looked like the monster he was. “You will correct this, Maria, or you will never see her again. Never.”

  “I know where she is,” she said simply. “You have no hold on me, or her. With your imprisonment, I will care for her. As I should have all of these years.”

  “I have associates,” he hissed. “You will never be safe.”

  Christopher’s gaze narrowed. “She will always be safe,” he said in a low, fervent tone. “Always.”

  Maria smiled. “May God have no mercy on your soul, my lord.”

  Eddington watched as Welton was clapped in irons by a Runner and Sedgewick was led away by two agents. As the wharf cleared, leaving only his carriage and St. John’s, he set his hands at the small of his back and heaved out a deep sigh of satisfaction. After this night, he would assuredly be granted the recently opened position of commander that Sedgewick had sought with such reckless determination.

  Lost in plans for his use of his new power, he failed to register the patter of footsteps behind him until the sharp tip of a blade pierced through his clothing and poked at his flesh.

  He stilled. “What is the meaning of this?”

  “You will be my guest, my lord,” Lady Winter murmured, “until my sister is returned to me.”

  “You must be jesting.”

  “I caution you against underestimating her,” St. John said. “I have felt her blade more times than I care to admit.”

  “I could call out for help,” Eddington said.

  “How unsporting of you,” Lady Winter said.

  A grunt of pain was heard, quickly followed by several more. Eddington turned his head and found his coachman, footmen, and outriders engaging in fisticuffs with what appeared to be a lone man of Irish descent. That the Irishman was winning was in no doubt.

  “Good God!” Eddington cried, watching with pure awe. “I have never seen such a show of pugilistic expertise in my life.”

  He was so engaged by the spectacle that he offered no protest when his hands were bound behind him.

  “Come along now,” Lady Winter said when he was secured. She poked him with her knife again for good measure.

  “Who is that man?” he inquired as St. John’s lackeys restrained those who groaned in surrender on the ground. But no one replied.

  Later, he was pleased to see the Irishman again when the man entered Eddington’s guarded room with a decanter of brandy and two glasses. Truly, as far as prisons went, Lady Winter’s opulent home was the finest of them. His “cell” was decorated in shades of ivory and gold, with brown leather wingbacks before a marble-framed grate and a canopied bed covered in a golden floral embroidered silk counterpane.

  “It is almost morning, my lord,” the Irishman said, “but I hoped you would share a nightcap with me.” His mouth curved wryly. “Lady Winter and St. John have already retired.”

  “Of course.” Eddington studied the other man as he accepted the proffered glass from him. “You are the kept paramour I have heard whispered about.”

  “Simon Quinn, at your service.”

  Quinn settled into a wingback before the grate and held his glass in two hands, seeming not at all injured by his earlier activities. He glanced aside with a look that would chill boiling water. “Lest you think this is merely a social visit, my lord, I feel I should tell you bluntly that if Lady Winter’s sibling arrives with any injury at all, I will beat you to a bloody pulp.”

  “Christ.” Eddington blinked. “You’ve put the fear of God into me.”

  “Excellent.”

  Eddington tossed back his drink. “Listen, Quinn. It appears your present occupation will be . . . eliminated.”

  “Yes, it does appear so.”

  “I have a proposition for you.”

  Quinn’s brow raised.

  “Hear me out,” Eddington said. “Once this matter with the sister is resolved, I will assume a position of some power. I could use a man of your talents, and working on this side of the law does have decided benefits.” He studied the Irishman to see how his proposal was being accepted.

  “How are the wages?”

  “Name your price.”

  “Hmm . . . I’m listening.”

  “Excellent. Now here are my thoughts . . .”

  Chapter 23

  “Once again, I find myself amazed with you,” Christopher murmured, his lips to Maria’s forehead as they reclined in her bed.

  She snuggled closer, her nose pressed to his bare chest so she could breathe in the delicious scent of him. “I am amazing.”

  He laughed. “How you managed after the deaths of your parents . . . All those years under Welton’s thumb . . .” His arms tightened. “We will go away after the wedding. Anywhere you like. Everywhere you like. We shall leave those memories behind and make new ones. Happy ones. All three of us, my love.”

  “After the wedding?” She tilted her head back to look up at him. “A bit presumptuous, I would say.”

  “Presumptuous?” Both of his brows rose up to his hairline. “You love me. I love you. We marry. That is not presumptive, it’s expected.”

  “Oh? And when did you begin to do the expected?”

  “When I unexpectedly fell in love with you.”

  “Hmm.”

  “What does that signify? That noise you made.” Christopher scowled. “That was not an affirmation.”

  “And what is it that I am supposed to be affirming?” Maria hid her smile by looking away. The next she knew, she was flat on her back with an ardently piqued pirate and smuggler of renown looming over her.

  “My marriage proposal.”

  “I was not aware you made one. It was more of a declaration.”

  “Maria.” He heaved an exasperated sigh. “Don’t you wish to wed me?”

  Her hands came up to cup his face. To his credit, he was only distracted a moment by her bare breasts. “I adore you, as you well know. But I have been married twice. I think that is plenty enough for any woman.”

  “How can you compare a union with me to what you experienced with them? A man who cared for you like a dear friend, and a man who used you merely for his own gratification?”

  “Would you be happy in the wedded state, Christopher?” she asked, discarding pretense.

  He stilled, his gaze intent. “You doubt it?”

  “Did you not say that the only way out of your livelihood is death? Either yours or of those you love?�
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  “When did I—” His eyes widened. “By God, have you a spy in my midst?”

  Maria smiled.

  “Vixen,” he muttered, kneeing her legs open and settling his hips between them. “Yes, I said that. Perhaps it is selfish of me to ask you under those very real circumstances, but I have no choice. I cannot live without you.”

  He reached between them, cupping her sex in his hand and stroking her. “Neither of us has made any effort to prevent conception,” he said softly, “and I am glad of that. The thought of you increasing with my child fills me with awe. Imagine how clever and industrious our issue will be.”

  “Christopher . . .” Her eyes stung and her vision grew blurry, even as her body awakened to his touch, growing liquid with desire. “How would we ever manage such a mischievous lot?”

  “Just the way we managed the lot last night.” Gripping his cock, he teased her creamy opening with the wide tip and then began to slip inside her. “Together.”

  Her eyes slid closed as he filled her, her head falling to the side to expose her throat to his mouth. “And if something were to happen to me or our children,” she asked, “would you promise to hold yourself blameless? Or would you damn yourself forever?”

  Christopher stilled, his cock a thick, throbbing presence within her. Something dark passed over his features, remembered pain and thoughts of more, perhaps.

  “You could have left your life of crime long ago,” she murmured, her arms clasped around his back. “The life you embraced to save your brother, and in the end it was the death of him, yes?”

  The shudder that moved through him shook her, too.

  “And yet you stay,” she whispered, “caring for those who are loyal to you, seeing to their families when they pass on, providing a home and food on the table for many.”

  “I am not a saint, Maria.”

  “No. You are a fallen angel.” The comparison seemed even more apropos now, with his handsomeness offset by the blue satin lining of her canopy.

  He growled. “There is nothing angelic about me.”

  “My darling.” She lifted her head to press a kiss to his shoulder. “If we stay unwed, you will know that I stay with you because I wish to. Because I make that same wish every day, and you are not responsible for binding me to you.”