by Tarah Scott
*****
Erroll’s hotel room door opened in the small salon beyond the bedroom, but he didn’t bother to lift his head from the edge of the tub to call out. He was in no mood to be civil to anyone, not even the maid delivering his dinner. He did shift to ease the ache in his back and the angle of his wounded leg, which hung over the edge of the tub. It had been years since he’d ridden as hard as he had yesterday—or gotten into a damned fist fight as he had with Miss Crenshaw’s father—and he was paying the price. Today, he was paying the price for many a sin.
He picked up a glass of whisky from the table beside the tub and drank the contents in one long swallow. The liquid burned a velvety path down his throat and landed in the pit of his stomach where lay the other two glasses he’d already downed with just as much gusto. Erroll poured another glass from the decanter sitting on the table, then cradled the tumbler on his belly and closed his eyes.
What a grand joke that he should be snared by a woman who didn’t want marriage any more than he did. They would make quite a pair—threesome, he remembered with a groan. The younger Miss Crenshaw was not about to give up the chase without a blood-letting battle.
Erroll had replayed last night’s events over and over in his mind. He had thanked fortune that his accuser stopped before reaching her father’s estate, and he thought himself clever for cornering her alone in her room. But had the wheel on their wagon not broken, he wouldn’t have caught them, and her lie would have been exposed under the scrutiny of evidence that might damn his soul, but not his body. Instead—he downed the whisky, then poured another glass, sloshing half the liquid over the side of the glass before slamming the decanter back onto the table. He wrapped his fingers around the glass as the rest of his body began to loosen.
Too bad he hadn’t actually compromised the elder sister. Even an unrelenting hunter like Miss Grace Crenshaw would relinquish her prey if it mated with her kin. Sliding between Eve Crenshaw’s thighs would be all too easy. Her nipples had pressed against his chest just hard enough to give away her desire. Desire? He chuckled. Her only desire had been to put a bullet in him. And she had, the vixen.
His cock throbbed and began to rise in response to the memory of her body silhouetted by candlelight and the dark patch he’d glimpsed between her legs. Erroll drank the whisky in a flourish, intended to pour another, but the glass slipped from his fingers onto the floor as his eyes closed. His cock would fit snuggly inside her tight warmth. But what how to induce her to wrap her fingers around him beforehand?
He startled, the erotic vision suddenly so real he could feel her delicate hand closing around him. Erroll jammed his eyes more firmly shut and allowed his mind to sink deeper into the murky fantasy. Her fingers tightened and he lifted his hips, then slowly lowered back into the water. Her grip firm, she slid her hand up, then down, pulling his skin so tight he hissed a breath in pleasure.
Her hand pistoned down then up, faster. Erroll gripped the edges of the tub. He could smell her faint fragrance. She slowed the motion and a feathery light caress brushed his bollocks. Erroll shivered. His release was near and he had yet to touch the apparition. Dared he try? Would she vanish if he reached for her? He growled when the hand caressing his bollocks cradled them and gently squeezed. His release rose toward the surface. Soft lips brushed against his.
“Eve,” he rasped against her mouth.
“Eve?”
Erroll snapped open his eyes to find Lady Laura Greenwood’s face a hair’s breadth from his. He jerked his eyes to his groin. Her fingers encircled his thick member. The liquor induced haze evaporated.
Erroll shifted his gaze onto hers. “Seducing a man while he’s sleeping in his tub? You must be desperate, Laura.”
She massaged his cock and pleasure streaked along the sensitive flesh. He couldn’t repress a shudder.
A satisfied smile curved her mouth. “I know what you like.”
The sultry quality he recognized all too well was present in her voice, but he didn’t miss the underlying fury. Memory clicked into place and he realized he’d called out Eve Crenshaw’s name.
He lifted a brow. “I thought you were someone else.”
Fury blazed in her eyes. “You prefer a baron’s daughter to me?” This time she squeezed his member—hard.
He bit back a wince and managed a cold smile. “Yes.” Erroll saw the wheels turning in her mind and he seized the wrist of the hand that still gripped him. “Release me, my dear, before you do something you regret.”
Indecision flickered across her face before she jerked free of his hold and shoved to her feet. Erroll gripped the edges of the tub and pushed up, easing his wounded leg to the floor. He’d banged the damned thing against the tub when she’d startled him awake. The wound wasn’t bad, but it pounded like the devil as blood flowed through the muscle. He stood, then took one step nearer to the chair beside the hearth and snatched up the silk robe draped over the cushion. He stuck an arm in one sleeve and turned as he shoved the other arm into the remaining sleeve.
“What are you doing here?”
Her gaze dropped to his erection, which still demanded its reward. “You should have stayed asleep another moment, darling. You didn’t take your pleasure. You were close, though, by your reactions.”
He was, and with a great deal of help from her as it turned out.
Erroll closed the robe and cinched the belt. “How did you get in here?”
“The clerk was very helpful.”
He remembered the innkeeper who had given him the key to Miss Crenshaw’s room. It seemed clerks and innkeepers were too free with information concerning their guests.
He crossed to the small sideboard near the window and poured a glass of brandy. “Laura, I am in no mood.”
“I beg to differ.”
Erroll reached for the glass, then thought better of it and faced her. He leaned his backside against the sideboard. “I have never known you to venture farther from London than Coventry, and then only when a certain young duke was sowing his wild oats.”
She waved a hand. “You are as worthy as the duke.”
“More so, but your time is wasted on me, just as it was with him.”
“Erroll, we have shared much. Do you not miss me?”
“I have not missed you for over a week.”
Her mouth pinched, but she said in a bright voice, “It is all over Town that you were shot by your latest paramour. I didn’t believe it, but there is the proof.”
Erroll didn’t look at his leg. “A lovers’ quarrel. You know how that is.”
“I never shot you.”
“Only because you lacked the nerve.”
“Is shooting you how a lady keeps your attention?” She glided across the room to him. “Really, darling, are you going to stay angry at me forever?” She pressed her full lips into a pout and placed her palms on his chest.
“I am not angry,” he said.
She slipped her hands inside his robe to his chest. Erroll caught her wrists and her head snapped up.
“We are finished, Laura. I assumed you understood that last week.”
“So you are still angry. That is unfair.”
He released her and straightened, forcing her back. “I am not angry. I simply have no interest in a woman who will pit me against another of her lovers—and a jealous one at that. But I suspect that was what you had in mind.”
“You know how I get,” she sulked. “I never meant for you to get caught in that squabble. I said I was sorry.”
“And I accepted your apology. Now, if you will excuse me, I have an appointment.” She opened her mouth, but he cut her off, “You are not to interfere with my current situation.”
Ire flashed across her face. “How could I possibly interfere?”
“By putting it about that you visited me in my hotel room and had your pretty hands around my cock.”
“It would only be the truth,” she shot back.
“Just as it is the truth that you are one ball go
wn away from your creditors going to Italy in search of your husband.”
She drew in a sharp breath. “You would never repeat that?”
“You created the situation. I simply do not intend to be one of your casualties.”
“You did not consider yourself a casualty when I let you fuck me.”
“Be sure to remember it was you who reduced our connection to such lowly depths,” he said.
“How dare you?” She drew back her hand and Erroll caught her wrist before her palm reached his face.
“What is going on?” he demanded. “This is dramatic, even for you.”
Laura yanked her hand free and took a step back. “Nothing that need concern you, my lord.” She whirled and stalked toward the door.
For an instant Erroll didn’t move, then he reached her in three quick steps and seized her arm, swinging her around to face him.
“Let me go,” she hissed.
“Sit down,” he ordered.
She looked up and he saw tears rolling down her cheeks. He urged her two steps to the chair. Her mouth tightened in rebellion and she didn’t sit.
“If you want my help, do as I say,” Erroll said.
She hesitated, then sat down. Erroll went back to the sideboard, poured a second brandy, then picked up both glasses and returned to Laura’s chair.
He shoved one drink in front of her. “Drink this.”
She took the glass and drank half the contents in two gulps.
“You have many vices, Laura, but drinking is not one of them. What happened?”
“Henry has returned from Italy.”
Erroll sipped his brandy. His head was starting to pound, but he knew it was due more to being shocked from the relaxed state of alcohol and arousal than an impending hangover.
“So your creditors do not have to go in search of him, after all.”
She shot him a dagger-filled look.
Erroll lifted a brow. “I take it he is none too happy with your peccadilloes?”
“Oh fie,” she said. “If that were all, I would be able to handle him without trouble. No. He has seen a few of my bills and…” She sighed and took another gulp of her drink.
“I see,” Erroll said. “The viscount does not mind that his wife is seen with every rake in Town, but he will not countenance his money paying for her lovers.”
“That is not the worst part,” she said. “When he discovers I pawned my emeralds, he will shut me up in the country.”
“Pawned your emeralds? Those have been in Bentley’s family for generations. You will be fortunate if all he does is lock you up in the country.”
She tossed her head. “If he does that, I will make him pay.”
“I think he is paying now, my dear.”
“It is no more than he deserves.”
Erroll canted his head. “But of course. How much did you get for the jewels?”
“Two thousand pounds.”
“Only two thousand? The pawnbroker must have been delighted to see you.”
“I did not want to owe too much,” she said. “I was sure I could redeem them when I got my next allowance.”
“But you spent that as well.”
Her eyes narrowed. “If you asked me to stay just so that you could reprimand me I might as well leave.”
“You are right, of course. Send the pawnbroker’s direction to Wiggins. I will instruct him to take care of the bill. He will redeem the jewels, then deliver them to you discreetly. If you choose to pawn them again do not come to me. As you know, I do not dally with women whose husbands live with them.”
“Why not?” she demanded. “A married woman is a married woman.”
“Because, contrary to what you think, husbands do care when their wives flaunt their lovers about Town. Your charms are sweet, but not sufficiently so to risk a dawn appointment.”
Her brow furrowed in derision. “Henry would not challenge you to a duel.”
“I fear that you do not know Henry at all.”
Laura regarded him. “Why are you being so kind?”
“Did you not come here expecting kindness?”
She gave a mirthless laugh. “You are not kind—men are not kind.”
“Some are,” he said. “But you are right, I am not.”
*****
“As I recall, you threatened to dismember me if I didn’t marry your daughter. Yet she refuses to marry me.” Erroll lowered himself into the chair opposite Tolland’s desk in his study. He felt his headache returning and half wished he’d let Laura finish him off in the tub that morning. After she left, he hadn’t been able to capture his earlier mood and was left feeling even more frustrated than he’d been to begin with.
“Eve is balking,” the baron said. “But make no mistake, if you do not marry her, I will carry through with my threat.”
“What should I do, kidnap her to Gretna Green and force her to marry me?”
Tolland reached in the desk drawer and withdrew several sheets of parchment. He set them on the desk and Erroll saw the gold heading read The Honorable J. Philips Esquire.
The baron slid the marriage contract in front of Erroll. “If necessary, kidnap her is exactly what you will do.”
Incredulous, Erroll lifted his gaze to Tolland’s face.
“I have arranged for Eve to attend many parties tonight,” the baron went on. “It is the perfect opportunity for you to whisk her off to Scotland.”
Erroll wondered if insanity ran in the Crenshaw family, and couldn’t help asking, “How would you have me proceed?”
“Put her in your coach and drive.”
“You make it sound simple,” Erroll murmured.
“As I will not be chasing you with a gun, it should be.”
“I must admit this is the first time I have plotted to get a woman to the altar,” Erroll said. “Usually, I’m running in the opposite direction.”
The baron’s expression darkened. “There will no running in the opposite direction once you are wed. Eve deserves a good husband.”
“Then you would do well to choose another man, for I will make a terrible husband.”
“Should that turn out to be the case, I will shoot you.”
Erroll gave him a disgruntled look. “I see where your daughter gets her charms. Do you, by chance, have relatives in Newgate?”
Chapter Three
Erroll slowed his walk when the object of his ruminations and her sister emerged from a shop up ahead. The younger Miss Crenshaw carried three large packages while the older held a single small bundle. They both wore white muslin dresses, but the elder sister’s breasts strained against the high-waisted bodice. Erroll recalled the lush flesh brushing his chest as he’d leaned over her bed and he released a slow breath in an effort to stop the thickening in his groin.
Before he allowed his passions to get the better of him, he needed a word with the lady away from the prying eyes of her meddling family. If there was a chance to extricate themselves from the situation, they needed to agree on how best to proceed.
The ladies turned up the street and strolled away from him. Erroll allowed his gaze to fix upon her rounded derrière, but lifted his eyes again before the sight further incited his mounting lust. She wore no bonnet and the afternoon sunlight glinted off her hair just as the candlelight had done last night in her room. Erroll would wager her hair was as soft as her breasts. An irresistible combination bound to keep him awake tonight contemplating.
A man walking toward them stopped to greet them. He first bent over Miss Grace Crenshaw’s hand, then took her sister’s hand. Erroll slowed even more. From this distance, he couldn’t see the man’s eyes, but Erroll was sure his head was raised a tad bit too high for his eyes to linger on her hand. Was he ogling her breasts? He confirmed Erroll’s suspicion by pressing his lips to her hand and lingering a second too long before straightening.
“Hello, Rushton.”
Erroll recognized the voice behind him and sighed as he turned to face Montgomery Paisley. Enc
ountering his old friend here in Manchester only meant the gossip about him and Miss Crenshaw had reached epic proportions.
“Paisley, how are you?”
Montgomery grinned. “Better than you, I suspect. I see your two most recent dalliances up ahead there.”
Erroll scowled, but cast a quick glance at the ladies, who were once again moving down the street away from the bounder. “They are not my dalliances.”
Paisley’s brows rose. “There is too much talk for that not to be true.”
“What are you doing in Manchester?” Erroll asked. “You never leave London.”
Amusement lit his eyes. “That is not true. I am often in Edinburgh, more often than you, in fact.”
“The family properties keep me occupied in England,” Erroll said. And since his return from the navy, he’d staunchly avoided the ones in Scotland.
“I did not know your father held property here in Manchester,” Montgomery said. “Or perhaps it is your mother’s property?”
His friend knew neither his mother nor father owned property in Manchester, and was purposely egging him on. “Are you hiding from your father again?” Erroll asked.
His grin widened. “I am. He is being damned unreasonable, as I imagine your father is, too.”
“He is determined,” Erroll agreed.
“You cannot fully blame him,” Montgomery said. “You have created quite a stir this time.”
Erroll grunted. “I am innocent. For once.”
“You have not been innocent since the schoolroom.”
“As we met during my university days, you cannot comment.”
“Quite right,” Montgomery agreed. “I do have a specific reason for seeking you out. Cunningham asked me to give you this.” He pulled a letter from inside his jacket and handed it to him.
Erroll recognized Lord John Cunningham’s seal and frowned. Parliament was not yet back in session and the young marquess was seeking counsel?
“Bad news?” Montgomery asked.
