by Diana Quincy
“Naismith,” he growled. “Have you come to plant another spy in my midst?”
“Not at all,” Will said easily. “May I come in?”
“As if I could stop you.”
Mari came to his side. “Sit. You are still not well.”
“Nonsense. The doctor says I must walk a bit more each day to hasten my recovery.”
“Fine, take hold of my arm.” She stayed by him while he took short, careful steps across the floor. “Will and I have just come from interviewing the French agent.”
“The one who survived our unfortunate encounter on the beach?” He paused, looking from her to Will, who stood watching Cosmo’s progress with hands clasped behind his back. “What did you learn?”
Will adjusted his spectacles. “He confirmed Darling was the top-level informant working for the French.”
“That explains why Darling was so flush in the pockets while his estate income dwindled. I suppose it’s no surprise he was a turncoat as well as a thief and a liar.” He regarded his former friend with disdain. “Some spymaster you are, accusing Aldridge when the real culprit was right under your nose.”
“More so than you know,” Will said agreeably. “Darling was the person who first pointed us in the direction of your father.”
“How do you mean?”
“The viscount was the longtime admirer who came to us after seeing your father access the list of names.”
Cosmo’s face darkened. “That blackguard wasn’t content to steal Ellie’s child, he was determined to completely ruin Aldridge as well.”
“Apparently.”
Cosmo shuffled back to his chair. “Did the French know Darling had Anna, or were they bluffing?”
“They were aware that the viscount had taken the child.” Mari helped him settle carefully into the seat. “It was an unexpected development, but they soon began to see the advantages.”
“Which were?”
“That the secret would give them influence over two English lords.” Will took the seat opposite him. “So they could pick and choose which one would serve them better in the future.”
“They resorted to blackmail to get Darling to do their bidding?”
“Exactly.” Will crossed one leg over the other. “They began extorting Darling almost immediately after he took the child.”
Mari nodded. “Darling visited London just frequently enough while Parliament was in session to be able to gather information of interest to the French.”
“So he turned traitor to keep Anna for himself.”
“He’s also been providing safe haven for French spies who come ashore in Dorset,” Will said. “We believe that’s why he sent the girl into Miss Chalcroft’s care until he could move her permanently.”
Cosmo exhaled. “So we got to him just in time. Susanna could have been lost to us forever had he succeeded in sending her away.”
“Darling was getting jumpy,” Will said. “He knew Lamarre was asking questions and that the French were coming to make contact with Aldridge. He suspected they might use the child as leverage with your father in the same way they had used him for all of these years.”
“What a web Darling wove for himself.” Cosmo said. “I won’t rest until he hangs.”
Will came to his feet. “You are fatigued. I’ll leave you to your rest.” He paused when he reached the door. “This investigation was never anything personal, Cosmo. I trust you understand.”
Cosmo’s face darkened. “It felt damned personal to me.”
“I couldn’t come directly to you because I believed you ignorant of Aldridge’s potential involvement in this mess.”
“If you are asking for my forgiveness, Will, I’m not ready to give it.”
“Fair enough. May I call on you when you return to Town?”
“Whatever for?” Cosmo asked, his voice cool. “Surely the investigation is closed.”
“No, not in any official capacity.” Will held Cosmo’s gaze with his own. “I want a chance to regain your trust and friendship. Our visits could involve excellent smuggled French brandy.”
Cosmo’s brow furrowed, his silence thickening the air. “Why ever not,” he finally said. “If I say no, you’re liable to break in later anyway.”
Mari left with Will to see him out and then stopped by her chamber to change before returning to Cosmo. She pressed her mouth against his as soon as she entered. He responded immediately, pulling her against him, his demanding tongue entering her mouth for a thorough, knee-weakening kiss.
She broke the kiss. “It has been a long day for us both.” She drew off her dressing gown and climbed into bed wearing her night rail. “Come lie down and rest with me.”
He followed, shedding his banyan. He wore nothing underneath but the bandage on his side. “Far be it from me to resist when a beautiful woman asks me to join her in bed.”
Once they were settled, he pulled her tight against his uninjured side.
“Do you think you can forgive Will?” she asked.
“In time, I suppose.” He interlocked his fingers with hers on his chest. “Whatever his motives, he did bring you into my life, for which I shall be eternally grateful.”
Yawning, she closed her eyes, her limbs heavy. Her work in the barn and the interrogation of the French accomplice had left her fatigued.
His lips settled against her hair. “Angel?”
“Hmmm,” she said sleepily, her eyes still closed.
“I think you should know something.”
“Yes?” she mumbled, already half-asleep.
“I am sufficiently recovered.”
“For what?”
In answer, he drew her hand down his chest, under the linens, past his stomach, to the prodigious evidence of his recovery. She closed her fingers around the solid length.
“Ah, I see.” Desire stirred in her belly and sleep left her. Sitting up, she pulled the bed linens away to watch as she caressed his aroused flesh. She never tired of touching or gazing at his beautiful male form.
He exhaled with pleasure. “I’m afraid you will still have to do much of the work.”
“I am not adverse to a bit of hard work.” She moved to straddle him, taking care to avoid his wound. “As long as I can have my way with you.”
“You may ravish me as you see fit.” The words ended on a groan of appreciation as she sank down on his rigid flesh, letting him fill her. She pulled her night rail over her head and tossed it away.
Appreciation flickered in his coal eyes. Caressing her tender breasts, he loved them with an expert touch. She moved on him in gentle, unhurried movements, taking him deep inside her, letting him fill her soul, trying to commit every detail of this loving to memory for when they parted. Afterwards, exhausted and sated, she collapsed beside him.
“Mari.”
“Mm?”
“One more thing.”
He certainly was talkative this evening. “What is it?”
“Je t’aime,” he said. “I also will never love anyone as I love you.”
Her eyes shot open at his repetition of the exact phrase she’d used during the worst his fever, when she’d thought he couldn’t hear her. “Pardon?”
“I also will never love anyone as I love you.”
“You heard me?” Her heart pounded. “You weren’t meant to.”
He stroked a gentle hand down her arm. “Nonetheless, I did, and it gladdens my heart.”
“It didn’t mean anything. I was worried for you.”
“You love me, Mari, and I love you.”
She shook her head in denial. “Hush. All men think because they engage in excellent carnal relations, that it must be love.”
Amusement lit his midnight eyes. “I’ve enjoyed women before, Angel. This is different.” He ran a light finger over her bare breast. “That’s not to say sexual congress with you isn’t amazing. It is. But I suspect it is because there is deep emotion involved when we make love.”
“Non.” She rolled over and
rose from the bed. She couldn’t possibly think straight while naked in bed with him. “Do not complicate matters. I have my work and you have your duty.”
Shifting onto his uninjured side, he propped his head in his palm to watch her. The bed linens were slung low around his hips, exposing all of that glorious flesh: square shoulders, contoured stomach, and the trail of hair leading down the center of his hips to the most masculine part of him. “Stay with me, Mari.”
Emotion closed her throat. She hurried over to where she’d tossed her night rail on the floor. “I do you a great favor.” She spoke with immense frustration, mostly at the warm and tingly way her body reacted to his misguided declaration of love. “You are feeling much emotion because you have been injured. You are not in your right mind.”
“Wrong. I am finally in my right mind.” He sat up, regarding her with an intense inky gaze that gave her gooseflesh. “Almost dying gave me a new perspective.”
She tugged her night rail over her head. “Even if I were inclined, I cannot stay here as your acknowledged mistress. Aside from Aldridge, you have Anna to consider. You cannot expose the child to such a lurid arrangement.”
“You think I want you as my mistress?” he asked incredulously. Rising to his feet, he came to her, utterly unmindful of his glorious nakedness. Upon reaching her, he dropped his strapping frame carefully to one knee. Taking her hand in his, he said, “Stay with me, as my wife, as my love. Will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife, Miss Mari Lamarre?”
Stung, she snatched her hand away. “No, I will not!” Her heart ached at the joy that shot through her before her mind shut down the possibility of staying with Cosmo. “You are mad to even suggest it.”
“You wound a man’s pride.” He pushed to his feet. “It is not every day I summon the courage to ask a woman to pledge her troth to me.”
“This is no laughing matter.”
“You are a prickly thing, aren’t you?” He appeared unmoved by her outrage. “Most females would react more favorably to a marriage proposal from a future marquess with a considerable fortune.”
She backed away from him, needing to put some distance between them. Why did he insist upon remaining unclothed? “Even if I were willing, you cannot marry me. I’m a woman of common family. I have seen too much of the world. You need a sheltered maiden of noble blood. I am no innocent virgin.”
His lips opened into that wide smile that made her insides go soft. “Don’t I know it.” He did a slow, frankly sexual inspection of her form. “Thank God for that. What would I do with an innocent virgin?”
“I will not give up aerostation. Nor my work for Will.”
He stalked toward her, looking like a magnificent predator at his most elemental. “Surely we can reach an agreeable compromise.” When he moved to embrace her, she dipped under his arms and out of his reach. Grabbing her dressing gown, she made for the door and threw it open, dashing down the hall toward the safety of her chamber.
What was he thinking? Marriage between them could never work. It had to be enough for her that he hadn’t died. At least she would always know he was alive in the world somewhere. But to become his wife? He was a rake, and his every infidelity would be like a stab in the ribs to her. She couldn’t open herself up to that kind of hurt, especially after how she’d suffered when Pascal died.
She knew her decision was the correct one. But instead of feeling relieved, sorrow and disappointment knifed through her with every painful thump of her heart.
“Go away.” Mari turned her back on Cosmo. “I am busy.”
“What are you doing?” he asked, watching her fold the silk fabric.
“Packing our equipment.” Not sparing him a glance, she walked around the colorfully striped silk cloth. “We leave for London on the morrow.”
“Tomorrow? A day earlier than planned. Running away, are you?” Leaning back against a tree trunk, he crossed his arms over his chest. “I never took you for a coward, Mari.”
“Do shut up.” She carried on about her business, but he noted the way she’d tensed up.
“Fine.” He shrugged. “Run away if you like. For now. I’ll see you in Town when I come for the exhibition.”
Her head snapped up. “You plan to attend?”
“Of course,” he said lazily. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
“I beg of you to stop this folly.” The words were sharp. “Let my departure be our final parting.”
“I missed you last evening,” he said. “If I’d known a proposal of marriage would drive you from my bed—”
“Hush!” She hissed the word, darting a glance at Maxim and Marcel, who were loading their equipment onto a cart in front of the barn.
Unfortunately, her obvious agitation drew Marcel’s attention. He marched over, glowering at Cosmo. “My sister wants to be left alone, Dunsmore.”
“Marcel,” she said in French. “I can handle this.”
“No, let him stay,” Cosmo interjected, beginning to see the advantage of getting Marcel involved. “As he is your older brother, it is only proper I speak with him about this.”
“Marcel does not need to be involved,” she said to Cosmo. “There is nothing to discuss.”
Marcel narrowed a menacing glare at him. “Speak with me about what?”
“I’ve asked your sister to marry me.”
Marcel’s jaw dropped. “Merde.”
“Do not concern yourself,” Mari said to her brother. “I am not marrying him.”
“Why not?” Marcel asked.
“Yes,” Cosmo said. “Why not?”
Mari regarded her brother with exasperation. “What do you mean why not? I’ve broken off with him. You should be pleased. You’ve never countenanced our liaison.”
“Don’t be an idiot. I don’t like you being his…his—” His face darkened. “You are too good to be a drunken nobleman’s common doxy.”
“You don’t even like him,” she said.
“What difference does that make?” Marcel looked at her as if she were a dolt. “The imbécile wants to make you his countess. You’ll be taken care of for life.”
“Actually,” Cosmo said, thrilled to have the scowling killjoy on his side for once, “she will be a marchioness.”
Marcel eyed him. “That is better, no?”
“Most definitely. Higher than a countess.”
“And you are rich,” he said looking to Cosmo for confirmation.
Cosmo nodded. “Absolutely. I’ve more gold than Croesus.”
To Mari, Marcel held out his hands in a “why not” gesture. “Voilà.”
“Exactly,” Cosmo said to her. “I’ve no quarrel with your marrying me for my money and position.”
Indignation glowed in her radiant eyes. “I do not care about your money and status.”
“I am well aware.” Satisfaction curled through him. “It makes me want to marry you all the more.”
“Don’t be stupid, Mari.” Marcel chewed on a blade of grass. “Of course money matters. You will be taken care of.”
Hands on hips, she glared at her brother, her long-legged, breeches-clad form vibrating outrage. “He is a rake.”
“Is that what this is about?” Cosmo straightened. “There will be no other women. I’ve done enough whoring to last me two lifetimes.”
“Please.” She batted away an errant tendril of dark, curled hair. “You might stay faithful until you become bored in my bed.”
“That will never happen,” Cosmo said with utter conviction. “I will never tire of making love with you.”
A pained expression crossed Marcel’s face. “I’ve heard enough. There are some things a brother should not hear about his sister.” He looked daggers at Cosmo. “And it is not too late for me to kill you.”
Cosmo decided it was wisest to keep silent at the moment. Walking past Mari, Marcel paused and spoke in an undertone. “Father and Pascal are dead, Mari, but you are not. Perhaps it is time you live in the present…and for the future.”
> Color leached out of her face and her stricken expression stabbed Cosmo’s heart. She turned without a word, walking with sure strides toward the cliffs, away from both of them.
Perhaps a patient gentleman would leave her to her peace, but being neither patient nor a gentleman, if one considered the strictest definition of the term, he followed. Trailing behind to allow her time to compose herself, he enjoyed an excellent view of the indignant swing of her slender hips.
She reached the cliffs and trotted down the path to the beach. He followed. Reaching the bottom, she plopped down on the sand to pull off her boots and stockings, baring smooth, calves and delicate ankles. Rising, she walked along the surf, just where the water met the beach.
“I seem to recall you promised to make love to me here,” he called out from behind her. “Is this an inappropriate time for me to take you up on the offer?”
“Most inappropriate.” She turned toward him with a contemplative expression, her honey-colored skin glowing bronze from the sun’s reflection off the water. “You are serious about marrying me?”
He poured all of his feelings for her into his answer. “I have never been more serious about anything in my life.”
The waves lapped at her ankles in a soothing shooshing noise. “Why?”
He inhaled the humid sea air. “I’m determined to put my life to rights, and that begins with giving up my wastrel ways and marrying the woman I love.”
“I am not a lady,” she said, speaking over the sound of the waves. “I cannot help you be respectable.”
“Is that what you think I want? Just because I don’t want to be a drunken lout for the rest of my life doesn’t mean I aspire to respectability.”
A sad expression crossed her face. “It is not so simple.”
“Of course it is. Gloriously so,” he said in all earnestness. “I love you. You love me. We wed, make excellent use of the marriage bed and, God willing, produce lots of sniveling brats who we’ll adore beyond all reason.”
A wistful smile touched her lips. “I never thought to have children.”
