Rhys sucked in a breath, torn between utter disgust and total pity for the shell of a man who hunched before him. “I think both Simon and I appreciate the torment you’ve been through. But we need to understand what it is exactly that you want from us. Perhaps we can come to terms.”
The other man’s eyes lit up with greed and a fevered desire that made him look even madder than he had at first glance. Rhys fought the urge to step away.
“Yes, my terms. First, I want ten thousand pounds a year for my silence.”
Simon blinked as he repeated, “Ten thousand pounds?”
Rhys stared as well. That was a large fortune. Certainly together he and Simon could spare it without much financial hardship, but it was an outrageous annual sum.
“I think I’ve earned it,” Warren barked as he motioned to his broken body.
“I wonder what the families of your murdered victims would say about that,” Simon snapped.
Warren made a sudden move for his pocket and Rhys leapt forward, positioning himself between the men. It was an odd thing. This blackmail involved his future, but for some reason he was able to remain far calmer than Simon, who was so angry he shook like a leaf in a storm.
“Gentlemen,” Rhys said softly. “There is no need to resort to this.” He locked eyes with his brother. “Please.”
Simon pulled away with reluctance and disgust. “Very well.”
Rhys returned his gaze to their blackmailer. “Is that all? Ten thousand pounds will end this?”
“No, not quite. There is something else I’ll require.”
Rhys’s heart sank. “And what is that?”
“I want to return to England,” the other man said, his tone changing. There was a faraway longing in his voice now, in his clouded eyes. “I want my name cleared of the charges of treason. I want to see my sister again. And I want to be invited to Society functions. I want to be returned to the position your father took from me when he threw me to the wolves.”
“He gave you that position as well, you know,” Simon said as he glared at the other man.
“I earned it, boy, and don’t you forget it,” Warren growled.
Rhys reached up and rubbed his temples. “And that is all? If we arrange for these things, it will settle our debt and you’ll keep your tongue about your knowledge of our father’s dealings.”
Warren looked at him with another putrid smile. “I don’t know, Your Grace. I might think of other items I desire, but for now let us call it a start. It will hold my silence for at least a year at this price. We can renegotiate then.”
Nausea rose in Rhys, for this was just what he had expected and feared. Somehow he tamped the reaction down as best he could.
“As you might guess, my brother and I will require some time to discuss your terms,” he choked. “May we meet again after we’ve talked?”
“Oh yes,” Warren said. “I’m not an unreasonable man, but neither am I a fool. I’ll meet with you, but at a place of my choosing.”
“And where is that?” Simon asked, his brow arching.
“The Earl of Rythsdale is holding a ball in two days, is he not?” the other man asked.
Rhys nodded, trying not to think too hard about how this man could have obtained that information.
“Good,” Warren said. “Then I’ll meet you there.”
Simon snorted out a laugh. “You must be jesting. You’ll never be allowed entry, Rythsdale is the soul of propriety. He wouldn’t allow a traitor in his midst.”
Warren’s brow arched slowly. “You are likely right, but I have ways of taking what I’m not allowed to have. I will be there, I assure you, and I’ll notify you when I’m ready to speak to you.”
“And why there?” Rhys cocked his head.
“Because, my lord,” Warren said with a sneer, “if you refuse my terms, you will have to deal with me in the most public way possible.”
“You—” Simon began, his face twisting in a mask of rage.
Before his brother could reach the other man, Warren pulled out a pistol and pointed it directly at Simon’s chest. At such close range, even the worst shot in the countryside would kill him, and Warren’s hand didn’t shake even a fraction.
Rhys caught his brother’s arm and held him steady, praying Warren wouldn’t get it in his addled mind to pull the trigger and obtain his revenge in another, even more devastating fashion.
“We understand, Mr. Warren,” Rhys said softly. “And we’ll see you at the Rythsdale ball with our answer.”
“Good,” Warren said as he backed into the shadows. “I look forward to it.”
There was only one loud scrape of his injured leg and then silence as Warren faded into the blackness like the experienced criminal he was and left the two brothers to themselves.
Rhys stared at Simon. Without a word between them, they walked back to the carriage they had come in together and got inside. It was only when the door was closed and they had ridden away a reasonable distance that Simon spoke.
“It’s worse than I anticipated, though perhaps that was a foolish oversight on my part.” He shook his head. “I knew he had done vile and even criminal things, but I never knew my father…our father participated in murder.”
The pain in Simon’s voice was plain, but Rhys had no idea how to address it. There was nothing he could say or do that would ever change the disillusionment his friend now faced. Or the horror Rhys himself faced. This Pandora’s box had been opened, the secrets would never again fit back inside.
All they could do now was to deal with the consequences.
“This will never end, you know,” Rhys murmured, resting his head back against the leather seat and letting out the breath he had been holding in a sighing whoosh. “In fact, judging from Warren’s demeanor and his hatred for our father and for us, it will only grow with each passing year. Hell, it might even be passed on to our children if Warren can manage it.”
Simon was silent for several blocks, merely staring out the window in troubled thought. Finally he nodded. “And some of the things he asks for are impossible. The money we could give him, we might even be able to somehow clear his name if we use enough of our combined connections. But can you imagine trying to obtain him entry back into Society?”
Rhys shuddered at the thought. “His years in hiding have broken his mind, as well as his body. No one will have him, I agree.”
“Warren is driven by greed, but also vengeance,” Simon said quietly. “Seeing him so destroyed, I can almost understand why.”
Rhys darted his gaze to his brother’s face. “Don’t you dare pity him, Simon. Or forget that he was a killer, a blackmailer, and a thief. Our father may have taken advantage of those things, but Xavier Warren was willing to perform those acts out of pure greed and I think a little pleasure at causing pain and heartbreak. He doesn’t deserve your consideration or understanding on any level.”
Simon shrugged one shoulder. “It hardly matters now. The man holds our shared fate in his hand.”
Rhys squeezed his eyes shut as nausea washed over him a second time. He had always been in such firm control of his life that this entire concept was entirely foreign to him. And hateful.
He had truly tried to find another option, but now he could see there was but one way out. The path he had feared he would have to tread from the first moment he heard the awful truth about his birth.
“No, Simon,” he murmured as he straightened up and squared his shoulders. “Warren wants to hold our fate, but he only has that power if we give it to him. We can take it back. There is a way and you know it, though you’ve fought against it in the past.”
The carriage slowed and Rhys glanced past Simon to see that the vehicle had pulled into his own drive at his London home. Simon stared at him.
“You’re talking about setting this secret loose in your own way, on your own terms,” his brother whispered.
Rhys nodded. “I am. It would end this, you know that as well as I do.”
His
brother remained silent for a long moment, resting his head back against the carriage seat and staring up at the ceiling with unseeing eyes. Finally he nodded, though the action was jerky.
“You may be right. This may be the only option we have left.”
Rhys reached out to squeeze his brother’s shoulder, relieved that Simon wasn’t arguing with him now that the moment of truth had finally come.
“I’m going to take back my fate, Simon,” he said softly. “One way or another, I won’t let a blackguard like Xavier Warren own the keys to my future. For better or worse, I’ll ruin myself before I let him do so.”
Chapter 19 Anne paced across the chamber floor one more time, her night shift flapping about her ankles as she snapped out each pivoting turn. Her gaze darted to the small clock on the mantel for what seemed like the tenth time or more. The hands had advanced only a few short moments since she last looked, but that gave her no solace. It was after two in the morning and Rhys had not yet returned from his meeting with whatever villain wished to blackmail him over his true parentage.
She lifted a hand to her trembling lips. She couldn’t help but think of all the ways their meeting could have gone wrong. What if there had been a fight? Or all this was just a trap meant to bring Rhys and Simon to a man with questionable intentions?
What if Rhys was hurt and couldn’t reach her?
The possibilities bombarded her from every side, making the tick of the clock ever louder, like a drum-beat in her mind. She could have screamed down the house in frustration and fear, but at that very moment the door behind her opened. She pivoted and watched as Rhys stepped into the chamber, his face lined with emotion, but his body whole and unharmed.
Without thinking, Anne launched herself toward him, racing across the room. She clung to him, shaking with relief as his arms came around her and stole her breath with the force of the way he crushed her to his chest.
“I thought—I thought—” She hiccupped, burying her face in his shoulder.
“Shhh,” he soothed as he maneuvered to look down at her.
In that brief, utterly unguarded moment she saw the broken heart he wouldn’t normally reveal to anyone, even her. She saw how badly the meeting must have gone. And she recognized, just from that one glance, how desperate their situation had become.
Then his mouth was on hers and all the thoughts melted away. She ached to comfort him in the only way he had ever allowed. She longed to feel his touch as her own comfort and forget, even just for a moment, all that stood between them.
He pushed her toward the bed and she fell across it with him half covering her. His weight was delicious against her body, his mouth so hot and wet as he dragged it away from hers to trail down her throat. She arched beneath him, helplessly reaching for the pleasure his touch promised and the delicious escape these precious moments would provide for them both.
“God, Anne,” he groaned as he maneuvered one breast free from her shift. The cool air of the chamber tightened her nipple and made her suck in a breath. “I want you so much I can feel it in every vein, in every pore.”
“I’m yours,” she whispered, gasping as his mouth closed over her nipple and he sucked hard enough that pleasure merged with pain in a most delightful fashion. “I will always be yours.”
He lifted his head at the second statement and there was a deep and abiding sadness in his eyes as he stared at her. He moved forward to kiss her lips once more, but the passion he had first exhibited was now muted. There was something else about the kiss now. A gentleness, a deep caring…and a statement of farewell that she tried desperately to ignore.
She could hardly breathe, let alone speak, but it didn’t seem as though Rhys required either of those reactions. Instead he moved his mouth down her body a second time, hesitating at her one naked breast and suckling there for a moment before he let his mouth press lower across her cotton-covered belly.
His warm hands caressed her legs through her night rail, massaging the sensitive flesh and making her arch against him with ever-increasing desire. Slowly he glided the fabric upward, sliding it along her tingling skin until she was unable to contain a moan of pure pleasure.
The fact that he could make her come undone so easily gave him all the power, but she didn’t care. In this moment, she surrendered willingly, with no further thought to the future or the past.
When he had bared her from the waist down, he drew back. In the firelight, he stared at the slight parting of her legs, at the rise and fall of her breasts as she panted out breath. His eyes glazed with a desire that created such triumph in Anne.
For so long she had believed he didn’t want her, she’d tormented herself with those fears and wondered constantly about her failings. But now she knew how wrong she’d been. The longing for her within him was clear in his every move and breath now. He had only hidden it before in some misguided attempt to protect her. To protect himself.
Rhys cupped the insides of both thighs gently and she sucked in a harsh breath. His fingers were so warm, so rough on the delicate skin there. He pushed and her legs parted, revealing her sex to him. No longer did she feel embarrassment or vulnerability when he stared at her. She wanted him to see her, to touch her, to do everything he wanted to her. She needed that as she needed breath and food and water.
He positioned himself between her legs, and without preamble his mouth covered her. Anne cried out, hands fisting in the fabric of the coverlet. His tongue drilled into her aching sheath, his thumbs spreading her open as he licked and licked until her entire body shook with anticipation and rapidly mounting pleasure. Within moments she was trembling out of control, and then the orgasm hit her like one of the angry waves on the beach back at the country cottage.
Her hips arched wildly as the pleasure of release spiraled ever higher, with ever more intensity. Rhys gave her no quarter, tormenting her with the same passion even as her cries grew louder and her body thrashed beneath him. He never stopped, punishing and pleasuring her with his tongue, with his fingers until tears streamed down her face and she collapsed, weak against the pillows, her only remaining movements a few tremors as he gently lapped at her a few more times.
Utterly spent, Anne looked down her body at him. She wanted more, though she had nothing left to give. She waited for him to strip off his clothing and at least offer her the chance to pleasure him as she had done so many times before.
But he didn’t.
Though she could see his raging erection pressing insistently along the front of his trousers, Rhys made no move to obtain his relief. Instead he slid up the bed to lie on his side next to her, brushing her hair away from her face as her breathing slowly returned to normal.
“You are beautiful,” he finally whispered, his voice cracking. “I never told you that enough.”
Anne squeezed her eyes shut as she attempted to control her wild emotions.
“Then why not make love to me?” she asked, though she knew the answer in her heart. She heard it in his voice, felt it in his touch.
But she needed to hear it out loud. From him. Now.
“I wanted to. God knows I want nothing more. But I can’t. Because…” he said, touching her cheek gently. She opened her eyes with reluctance and met his even gaze. “Because the meeting tonight didn’t go well, Anne.”
She nodded, though it felt jerky and strange. “I guessed as much from your expression when you entered the room. Please, won’t you tell me about it? I’ve driven myself mad with worry and wondering since you left.”
Now Rhys’s face was grim, all the desire and joy gone from it.
“We were correct in our guess that the blackmailer is my father’s old minion Xavier Warren,” he began slowly. “It seems the two of them were involved in activities far deeper than mere political intrigue. What I saw and heard tonight, Anne…”
He trailed off, pain lining his face. She lifted her hand and stroked his cheek. How she wished she could help him. To take away the agony he now experienced.
He shook his head, as if banishing the ugly memories, and his gaze cleared. “What I learned in the time Simon and I spent with the man is that Warren will never stop. He’s driven by forces that aren’t in anyone’s control, even his own. If we surrender to his ridiculous demands, he’ll only reign over us for the rest of my life, and possibly for the lives of the next generation.”
Anne flinched. Rhys spoke of the children he said he would never give her in order to protect his precious title, and it tore her heart to shreds once more.
But Rhys continued, “I won’t allow it. I won’t live with an axe hanging over me, over you, over everyone I love for all time, not to protect a legacy I don’t even deserve. No, it’s time to end this the only way I can. I’m going to reveal the truth myself, Anne.”
She stared at him. His words sank into her skin, into her soul, into her heart. They weren’t unexpected. He had been saying this could be his course of action for some time, but still she could hardly believe him.
She waited for sadness, regret, for all the pain she’d been barely controlling over the past few terrible weeks to make its way to her surface and bubble free at last. If there was ever a time to let emotion loose, this was it. But those feelings never came.
No, it wasn’t pain that bombarded her as she stared at her husband. And it wasn’t regret, though she was certain she would experience a great deal of that feeling later.
What hit her now, in this charged moment, with the force of a slap…was anger. Anger at the situation, anger at the blackmailer who crushed all her precious hopes, but the deepest and darkest anger was directed at Rhys. And there would be no stifling it, no controlling it. Tonight she would finally say everything she had held inside as she fought to keep him. Tonight she would indulge her own feelings instead of thinking of him and his.
The Unclaimed Duchess Page 21
