by Robyn DeHart
Other footsteps entered the room. “Someone light a bloody lamp.” It was Bennett.
Her nerves splintered and tears pricked her eyes as relief washed over her.
Light illuminated across the room and she peered around the curtains of the bed. Bennett held some man on the ground, his right foot pressed into the man’s throat. Two other members of the Brotherhood entered.
“Who sent you?” Bennett asked, pressing his boot hard into the man’s throat.
The man made a choking sound.
“He won’t be able to answer any questions as long as you’re stepping on this neck,” Adrian said. He walked over to Bennett. He reached down and grabbed the man up by the shirtfront and lifted him to his feet. “You tend to her and we’ll take this one down to answer some questions.”
Bennett watched as the other men carried her assailant out of the room. He appeared so unassuming. Had she seen the man on the street, she would have figured him married with a few children and that perhaps he worked at a local shop.
Bennett waited until they were alone before facing Evie. “Are you all right?”
“Am I all right?” Her voice hitched as she spoke. She paced the length of the room, a feat in and of itself because of the large size of the bedchamber. “I accepted this, agreed to this. I wanted the adventure. The experience.” She stopped walking and stared and him, then she shook her head and began her journey across the room once more.
He allowed her to pace and talk for another fifteen minutes, though none of her sentences connected or made much sense. As her words fell together faster and her breathing became shorter, he made his way to her, gripped her arms to steady her.
“Evelyn, all is well, you are safe now. I shall not allow anything else to happen to you.” He was ready to leave tonight, ready to take her to his townhome and lock her away if need be. Damnation, but she had already been through far too much.
She stared at him, gape mouthed. “But how do you? Where did he come from? I was asleep and then he was here, in my room and then on top of me.” She shook her head. “Are there not guards all over this palace?”
“Indeed there are. We’re fairly certain how he got in and now guards will be protecting those areas.” He led her over to the bed and sat her down. “You need to get some sleep. We can talk more about this in the morning.”
She allowed him to lay her back into the bed and pull the coverlet up over her, yet her eyes were wide with fear.
He turned to go.
“Where are you going?” She sat upright.
“I’ll be on the other side of those doors.”
“Please don’t.” She shook her head. “I don’t want to be alone. Not tonight.”
He should leave, he knew that. Staying would be tempting. As it was he was fighting with his urge to pull her into his arms and hold her until that fear disappeared from her eyes. Leaving was the proper thing to do, but what man could walk away from such a request? She’d just been attacked for the second time in as many days. “I’ll stay. You sleep.” He walked to the sitting area across the large room and sat.
“You’re really quite terrible at providing comfort,” she said.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I’m frightened, Bennett, more than that, terrified. I care not for what is proper at the moment. Please come over here and sit on the bed.” She sat, looked at him, her large whiskey-colored eyes pleaded with him. “I need you close.”
He swallowed. He was already struggling staying in here with her when he wanted to be down below beating the hell out of that man who’d attacked her, finding out who had sent him and what this was all about.
If anyone still had questions after the incident at the train ceremony, they certainly had undeniable proof now that someone was trying to kill the queen, yet all he could think about what Evelyn’s safety. He sat on the edge of the bed, as far away from her as possible. He knew if he got any closer he’d pull her to him, search every inch of skin to ensure she was not hurt.
“Did he hurt you?” he asked.
“He hit my head, it throbs still, but there is no wound.” She rubbed at her scalp, winced at her own touch.
Her hair fell into a long plait over her left shoulder. Her dressing gown covered nearly every swath of her pale skin. She was beautiful, so much so that his mouth had gone dry. What kind of man had lustful thoughts after a woman had been through such an ordeal? He was the worst sort of louse.
“I am sorry about this. We never should have brought you here, put you in this kind of danger. I should have fought against their decision to put you into this.”
“Were you given such an opportunity? You said once you hadn’t had a choice in the matter.”
“Not exactly. And I have a history of not following orders, so in this particular situation, I especially had no choice. But that’s my burden. It should not have been yours.”
She released a half-hearted chuckle. “You know when you told me that the Queen had been in danger before, I didn’t truly believe you. I suppose I thought you meant something more stately, as in other countries who were displeased with certain situations. I never considered—” Her chest rose and fell and deep breaths. “And you have been in such danger?”
“Not precisely the same, but I’ve had my share of situations.” He leaned forward a little.
“I can’t imagine anyone going after you. They’d have to be a fool.” She reached out and grabbed one of his hands. “Tell me about them.”
“I don’t think that will help in calming you down. Perhaps we could discuss something else.”
She nodded, laid her head back down on the pillow. She patted the pillow next to her. “Come up here so I can see you.”
He shifted himself so that he lay across from her, his head resting on a pillow, but his body lay upon the covers rather than beneath with her. He had only so much control. “Earlier when you were talking, you mentioned something about adventure and writing. What were you talking about?”
“Oh, nothing, ‘tis foolish.”
“Still, tell me, nonetheless. You said that talking would calm you down.”
“Very well, though you mustn’t laugh.” Then she released a slight chuckle. “I don’t suppose that is too difficult for you considering you don’t find humor in much.”
“Precisely. I am rather stoic.” She smiled and it was so genuine it made his chest hurt.
“I want to be a writer. No, I am a writer. Adventure stories.” She rolled her eyes heavenward. “And I foolishly thought this would be good experience to assist with my stories. I thought that pretending to be someone else for a while, living a different life would give me perspective, ideas, inspiration, if you will.”
“I suppose that makes sense. It is likely easier to write about something if you’ve experienced it. And has this given you any inspiration or have you decided that the adventurous life isn’t for you?”
“Yes, I’ve had an idea or two.” Sadness fell over her eyes. “I don’t believe I can give up the writing, though I don’t suppose I’m equipped to do anything else.”
She made no mention of wanting to find a husband, have children and house to keep.
“I wanted to experience anything other than my mundane country life.”
“I’d wager that life is looking pretty good about now,” he said, unable to hide his own grin.
“Indeed. And the money from this will help.”
Ah yes, the money. “In what way?”
“Enable me to find a little cottage somewhere, live on my own, and not have to marry. It is the only way my father will allow me to forego marriage with some unpleasant old man. I must be financially sound else he will force me to find a husband.”
He couldn’t imagine Evie living alone somewhere in a cottage. Either her father was a fool, or he’d never counted on her finding such financial solvency. “A woman needs to be cared for.”
“Perhaps, but they don’t have to have a man to accomplish such things.”
The
re was a possibility, as slight as it might be, that he was wrong about Evelyn. Perhaps she wasn’t like all other women and only after a man’s money. Yes, she needed funds, but for practical reasons. He certainly couldn’t fault her there.
“Would you do something for me, if I asked?” she asked.
“I would try.”
“Would you hold me for a little while? I can’t shake the sensations of that man touching me.”
She was a wicked temptress, asking him such a thing, but the weariness and fear in her face called to him. He did as she requested, much to his concern. His control was wearing thin, now with her body pressed against his, he wasn’t sure he could withstand the temptation.
“Thank you for coming to my rescue. Again,” she said.
And that turned out to be his undoing. He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her, gently at first, to make her feel safe and secure. But when her lips parted and he felt the tip of her tongue slide seductively across his bottom lip, it was all he could stand.
He pulled her to him so that she was half lying, half leaning across him. He moved his mouth down on hers, simultaneously seducing and worshipping. He’d hoped he’d be able to be in here with her without having to touch her, but he’d never been very good at resisting temptation.
He needed her near, needed to touch her, kiss her, as a parched man needed drink. He slid his tongue through her teeth, sweeping it across her own. His hand held her head in place, and his other caressed her bare shoulder where her dressing gown had slipped aside. She was so seductive, yet she knew not how tempting she could be. It made the experience all the more exciting, knowing that no one yet had noticed her beguiling ways. It was as if he’d unlocked her secret.
He continued kissing her, loving the feel of her soft body pressed against his, the way her mouth yielded to him. She kissed him back, giving as much as he gave, and the sensations were heady, addictive. If he could kiss her like this every day, he’d be tempted to go back on his pledge to remain unmarried and take her straight to the church. Sensations such as these were why people married in haste.
Her hands slid up around his neck, pulling him down further upon her. He was only half atop her, the other half of him on his side of the bed, and still the bed covers lay between them. It gave her some measure of protection from his obvious lack of control.
He longed to slide his hands up her legs to the center of her—to explore and see if she was wet for him, as wet as he was hard. His mouth left hers and he trailed kisses down her jaw to the column of her throat and then down her neck, across her collarbone to her shoulder, where he nipped lightly.
She released soft, sweet sounds of pleasure, then sighed contentedly as he continued his perusal of her body. She kicked at the covers pinning her to the bed, but he offered her no assistance. Instead, he kissed the tops of her breasts, where her labored breathing had them rising and falling. Her flesh was so perfectly plump, he couldn’t stand it any longer. With a quick maneuver he pushed aside the dressing gown, freeing her breasts. She sucked in a breath, but said nothing in protest.
They were perfect, round and full, and perfectly pink tipped. He dipped his head and took one nipple in his mouth. The hard, erect little nub beaded against his tongue. Her hands gripped at his shoulders and she arched up toward him, pressing her breast farther into his mouth. Again she kicked at the covers.
He wanted nothing more than to lose himself in her, but he knew that couldn’t happen. She was a virgin, and despite his temptations otherwise, he would not offer her marriage. Therefore he would not take what was offered to him. Still he wanted her, and she obviously wanted him, so he’d give her a little more, then he’d force himself to walk away.
He moved himself so that he was fully atop her, pressed his erection against the apex of her thighs. Even with the covers between them, she could feel him.
Christ, she felt good. It would take nothing to whip the covers out from between them, unfasten his trousers, and bury himself inside her. She’d be warm and wet and tight, and he nearly lost himself with that single thought.
He kissed at her throat, cupped her breast, then kissed her again, all the while moving against her. He could imagine her wetness against him, though he knew it was nothing but his imagination. There were far too many layers between them. Still, the hard ridge of him rubbed her in the right spot. Her knees opened wider, giving him more room, and she whimpered and squirmed while her nails bit into shoulders.
He knew in that moment that walking away from her would be the hardest thing he’d ever do, but he also knew that no matter what, he’d have to take his leave. He had no promises for a woman like Evie.
Her climax hit and she tossed her head back and gasped again and again while the pleasure rocketed through her. When her pleasure subsided, she opened her eyes and looked at him as if he were some sort of hero. He rolled off her and snuggled in behind her, wrapping his arms tightly around her. She needed sleep and he needed to not look into her eyes.
…
Bennett was thankful once she had fallen asleep. He had put distance between himself and Evelyn. Currently, he sat in a chair across the wide expanse of the Queen’s bedchamber. There was a slight rap at the door, and then it cracked open. Adrian slipped inside.
“We have a problem,” he said.
“What?” Bennett came to his feet.
“The man has escaped.”
Bennett swore louder than he intended and Evelyn sat upright in the bed, clutching the bedding to her bare chest. Thankfully the curtains that canopied the bed mostly hid her.
“Bennett?” she asked, her voice etched in fear.
“I’m here.” He walked over to her. “You need to get up and come with me.”
“Where are we going?”
He handed her the dressing gown and she slipped it on.
“Back down below, somewhere you should never have known about.” He and Adrian led her over to the large bookshelf that lined one entire wall of the bedchamber. He shifted a book on the third shelf from the top and it clicked, then the bookshelf slid open and revealed a staircase leading downward. “When they were building this palace, with the intent to be the London residence for the royal family, we had a series of tunnels built beneath so we could always be at hand whenever we were needed.”
He led her down. “So there are others in addition to the one off of the Privy Council room?”
“There’s a veritable maze of them,” Bennett said.
“Ellis went after the man,” Adrian said quietly so that only Bennett could hear. “But I doubt he’ll find him. The bastard knew these tunnels as if he had built them himself.”
They moved quickly through the tunnels, the chill permeating his skin and he knew Evie was likely freezing. He took off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Could he have been one of the workers?” Bennett asked.
“Honestly, I don’t know. We were so careful with the hiring of those workers. It seems unlikely.”
They continued walking through the tight stone tunnels. “How are you doing, Evelyn?” Bennett asked.
“I shall survive. We are going in further than we did the last time,” she said.
“Yes, that area is below the Privy Council room. These are the main tunnels, the ones that lead in and out of the royal family’s sleeping quarters.”
“I can say that I don’t particularly care for small, confined spaces though.”
“Nor I.”
“At least I can walk upright. It’s a wonder you haven’t hit your head,” she said.
“Today I haven’t, but that doesn’t mean it hasn’t happened before.”
“On more than one occasion,” Adrian said with mirth in his voice.
Bennett caught Evelyn’s grin before it faded and was replaced with a furrowed look of concentration.
They finally came to the series of doors that housed some of the offices of the Brotherhood.
“You can sit anywhere.” Adrian pointed to several chairs th
at encircled a large table. “Allow me to officially welcome you to Custos a Vesica.”
“Brotherhood of the blade?” she asked.
“Ah, you know your Latin fairly well. Brotherhood of the Sword, actually.” Bennett rolled his eyes. “It was a name given to us many years ago.” He looked around the room. “Where the hell is everyone?”
“Perhaps they went with Ellis to search for the man.”
“He escaped?” Evelyn asked, her eyes wide with fright.
“Indeed, but we shall find him,” Adrian said.
“She needs to be moved somewhere else secure. I’m taking her to my townhome,” Bennett said. “But first I want some answers. Was the man not restrained?”
Adrian sighed. “He was, but evidently when we searched him, we missed some sort of blade that he used to cut himself free.”
“Morton,” Bennett said. “We need him here. Now.”
“You think he’s part of this?” Adrian asked.
“There’s a very good chance he knows something.” Bennett quickly filled him in on Gwyneth’s attempt at blackmail and then Morton’s subsequent visit to Evie.
Adrian nodded. “I’ll go find him myself then.” He bowed to Evelyn and then left them alone.
“We’ll wait for Potterfield and then I’m moving you to my townhome.” Bennett was thankful a table separated him from Evelyn since he hadn’t been able to control himself earlier, and all he wanted to do was pull her back into his arms and hold her until her eyes were no longer filled with fear.
…
“What do we do now?” Evelyn asked him. Too much had happened tonight. Her body felt pulled and scraped in so many directions. First the attack, and then the tender and passionate moments with Bennett, and now her attacker had escaped. No, not hers, but rather, the Queen’s. Perhaps it truly was time for Evelyn to go home.
There was a ruckus down the tunnel that sounded like it came from the stairs. Instantly Bennett was between her and the doorway, a pistol in his hand.
“Honestly, Percival, there is no need to fuss. I am capable of descending steps,” a woman’s voice echoed down to them.
“Victoria,” Bennett whispered.
