It seemed like every day he was slipping further and further away from what he’d sworn to do.
A light knock rapped against the door.
Slowly, Jack slipped himself from under Regan and tucked the folds of his coat around her. Jack rose to his feet and quickly dressed.
He padded over and slid out into the hall.
His butler stood solemnly. “Mr. O’Malley, sir.”
Jack nodded, suddenly tired. Once, he’d anticipated these early morning meetings. Each one signified the noose tightening about Chiles’ neck. But now? He hurried down the stairs and stopped in the empty hall. Taking a slow breath, he strode into his office.
O’Malley stood by the fire, his big hand wrapped about the long, black poker. He jabbed at the fire sending sparks flitting up into the chimney.
At the sound of footsteps, the Irishman turned. His lips tilted in a faded smile. “Did ye have a grand night, then?”
Jack fought back a surge of boyish happiness at the memory of the previous night. “You’re not here to discuss my marriage bed.”
“That I’m not.” O’Malley brushed the dust from his hands. “Our good friend, Mr. Garret, has disappeared.”
Jack blinked. “What?”
“Mmm.” O’Malley’s dark brows rose. “ ’Twould seem the secretary has had the good sense to bugger off or he’s been chucked into the Thames.”
Letting out a controlled breath, Jack headed over to his desk. The wide, wood surface shone in the morning light and he leaned against it. “Is that all?” he demanded.
O’Malley’s face curled into a grimace. “No.”
“And?”
“The papers Garret promised are still in the duke’s home office. And not only that, the information might not be enough.”
“Not enough?” Jack repeated.
“Ye recall that Garret intimated others had tried to bring down the duke?” O’Malley smiled slightly, but it didn’t reach his usually good-humored gaze. “I did some searching of my own, do ye see. Four other cases have been brought up against Chiles on similar charges with similar evidence.”
Jack’s stomach tightened into a fist. “Go on.”
“Brushed under the rug the cases were. Each case was ruled upon by three other dukes.”
Jack sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. He’d thought he could break the system. He’d been so damned certain he could pull the old bastard down. “An old boys club?”
O’Malley shook his head. “It’s something more than that.”
“More than what?”
“I don’t know. But I’m not done digging.”
Jack nodded, trying not to let a wave of nausea tease his throat. He’d been working too long for it to end like this. The duke would not win just because a few friends were covering up his brutality.
Jack pushed away from his desk and he leveled O’Malley with a hard stare. “You keep digging until that man’s grave is dug.”
“Indeed I will and a pleasure it’ll be, too.” O’Malley headed towards the door then he stopped and turned slowly. “And what about Mrs. Hazard. What is it exactly that ye did there?”
“The right thing,” replied Jack evenly.
O’Malley cocked his head to the left. Skepticism darkened his blue eyes. “Ye’re fine then, connecting yerself with his blood.”
Jack folded his arms over his chest, digging his fingers into his biceps. “She’s not her grandfather.”
O’Malley smiled. “Now, isn’t that the truth? Still,” O’Malley looked Jack in the eyes, a hardness in his stare. “ ’Twould seem ye added another element of danger to her life.”
Regan had nothing to do with the duke or the past.
“I’m protecting her,” Jack said firmly.
O’Malley nodded. “Certainly, sir. Certainly, but ah…” He strode forward, his steps soft on the brightly woven rug. “Does she know, then? What ye intend? Or for her sake, will ye allow Chiles to go free?”
Jack ground his teeth together. “You know I will not.”
“Then what, exactly, do ye intend?”
“She will not be hurt.”
“But a lie, Jack. It can hurt a lass far worse than a slap. If she finds out ye’ve used her and lied to her, she may never trust ye again.”
Jack paused. Could he trust Regan to tell her his plans? His plans to destroy her grandfather? And what if she never forgave him? What if she left him? Jack swallowed and thrust the thoughts from his mind.
“For now, I will not tell her,” he whispered.
O’Malley hesitated, pity softening his features. “Jack, perhaps… Perhaps we should not go through with this. She may never understand, and I—”
Jack shook his head. He’d lived with revenge so long, he couldn’t imagine his life without it. All his life, he’d been tortured by the power of the duke. And Dev had died.
“I cannot fail in this.” Jack stared at the man who had been his closest ally in his quest.
O’Malley stared back and he said simply, “If ye’re wanting the papers, they’re in Chiles’ office. Third floor, the west side. They may not be enough, but it might be worth the try.”
“Thank you.”
“Ye’ve always been my captain. Ye always will.” And with that, O’Malley left the office.
Jack stood alone and slowly let his arms drop to his sides. He looked up, his eyes fixing on the pale ceiling.
Damnation.
In the past, such disheartening news would have enraged him, yet committed him even more intensely to his cause. It was the task of a lifetime, the destruction of an all-powerful man.
But he felt nothing. Nothing but a premonition that his time with Regan was short. And that soon, very soon, this bit of heaven he’d found would end.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Regan stretched. Every muscle in her body felt worked and perfect. As her fingers caressed the covers, her body shifted on soft down. A smile tilted her lips. He must have moved her to the bed.
And she hadn’t even woken. Little wonder with the excitement of the night.
She opened her eyes and blinked at the cream-colored ceiling. Sunlight, tinged with the glow of dawn, spilled through the room, honeying the walnut-colored walls and paintings. Jack sat close beside her on the bed. Fully clothed. Shadows darkened his eyes, but his lips curled in a smile as he stared down at her.
She propped herself up with the palms of her hands.
The soft wool blanket tumbled down her body. Her naked body. A blush stole up her cheeks, warming her skin. Last night. Good God, last night she’d been another woman. The woman she had wanted to be. The one she wanted be to be right now.
“Hello,” she said.
He curled his fingers around a strand of her hair. “Good morning.” Slowly, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss against her lips. “I’ve been waiting for you to wake,” he murmured against her mouth.
It was the first time in her life she had woken up next to someone. And she liked the feeling. Very much. She tilted her head back and glanced into in his dark eyes. “Why didn’t you wake me?”
“Because I’ve never see you sleep before. Do you realize that you are as beautiful in sleep as you are awake?”
Regan’s heart thudded in her chest and, in that moment, she felt as beautiful as he claimed. She leaned back onto her elbows. “Come here, if you please.”
His brows tilted up. “I do please.”
Jack pushed her onto her back and covered her mouth with his.
Jack placed his hand between her thighs, parting them. He lifted his lips from hers and growled, “God, I want you like this. Always.”
Regan parted her legs and let her hands drift down his hips guiding him towards her center. “You will always have me.”
A dark shadow flickered over Jack’s face and Regan felt a stab of worry. But before she could ask, Jack thrust himself inside her. He lifted his hands to the sides of her face and gazed down into her eyes.
As he stroked her i
n a slow, erotic rhythm, he kept his gaze fixed on her, and Regan couldn’t help but feel that he was savoring her as if they might never touch again.
Wrapping her arms around his back and her legs about his waist, Regan gasped as he filled her, each stroke bringing her closer till at last the world around her erupted in white light and she moaned his name.
He tensed above her and lowered his mouth to hers, slipping his tongue between her lips as he thrust one last time deep inside her. The weight of his body lowered onto her, pressing her into the bed, surrounding her with him. Regan traced her fingers along his shoulder blades, while he rested his body on top of hers.
As he rolled to the side, bringing her with him to rest against his wide chest, Regan felt a hint of foreboding. Something had happened since last night. Something to change Jack.
Jack pulled her close to him, pressing her body against his length. “I must leave you for a time this morning.”
“Must you?”
He glanced down at her and swallowed. “Yes. A meeting. Regarding your safety.”
Regan nodded against his chest. She could feel the hesitation in his voice. He didn’t wish to tell her something. “I understand.”
“But in the meantime, I would like to have your belongings fetched. Would you like that?”
Regan nodded. This was her home now. Strange though it may seem, her place was here with Jack. And it always would be. “Yes.”
“Good. I’ll send the servants over immediately.”
“I’ll be waiting here for you.”
He caressed the side of her face with the tips of his fingers. “Promise?”
“I promise.”
Jack wrapped his strong arms around her and pulled her tighter to his chest. Regan gasped for air, but she didn’t stop him. Because the shadow in her heart was darkening, and she knew it was only going to grow darker.
*
The heavy trunks sat in mountainous piles in Jack’s sprawling library. Candlelight danced over the brass tacks and buckles, beckoning her to free the contents. It had taken quite a bit of convincing, but Geoffrey had finally allowed Jack’s servants in. Apparently, according to Sylvia, Jack had been quite persuasive. Regan propped her hands on her waist and turned about in a circle.
Which one, first?
The fire crackled and she focused on the warmth as she stared down at her things. She didn’t even know where to begin.
Blowing out a sigh, Regan closed her eyes, turned in one more circle and pointed. She opened her eyes and strode to the trunk. She knelt down and raked her fingers over the heavy leather.
A loud knock reverberated throughout the room. Regan jumped.
“Pardon, Madam, but you have a visitor,” the butler called through the closed door.
Regan drew her brows together. Who knew she was here? Only Jack, Mr. O’Malley, and Lord Ashecroft. Regan stood slowly, smoothing her hands over her skirts. “Who is calling?”
“The Duke of Chiles, my lady.” The voice paused. “Your Grace. Please. I have yet to announce—”
“Step aside.” Chiles’ voice cut through the hallway. The door flung open, slamming into the wall with a crack as he strode into the room.
Her grandfather’s white hair glinted in the morning sun and his polished black boots stood out against the pristine white of his trousers as they clicked against the hardwood floor. The gold head of his cane winked and his narrow eyes bored into her.
“Leave us,” snapped Chiles to the Butler.
The old man glanced from Regan to the duke, then quickly backed from the room.
Regan fisted her hands and stood. She fought the urge to order him straight out. A shocking rush of hatred hummed through her veins. This man had tried to control her since her father’s death. Now that he’d let her slip through his fingers, she wondered what new tactics he would try to bring her to heel. She strode forward, ready to brush past him as if he were nothing. “I was just leaving, Your Grace.”
He grabbed her arm as she passed, his fingers digging into her flesh through her gown. “No. You were not. You are staying here and you will listen.”
Regan tensed in his grip. She looked down at his fingers clawing into her sleeve.
“How may I help you?” she asked, forcing her voice to remain calm.
“You sound like a clerk.” Lord Chiles gave her arm a tight squeeze then yanked his hand away as if she were diseased. “Then again, you have married into trade.”
Regan stepped back from him, forcing herself to remain polite. Distant. Even though she wanted to send him to the devil for the way he had treated Jack and for the way he was treating her.
“I am sorry that it so displeases you,” she drawled. She paused. “Actually, that’s a lie. I couldn’t give a bloody damn about what pleases you.”
The duke’s thin lips curled in a tight smile as his blue eyes hardened. “Think what you may. I will know if, now that you’re married, you will cease your work in Whitechapel.”
Regan opened her mouth, speechless. Drawing in a deep breath, she clasped her hands before her. “Your Grace, we have never been close. My father wished to keep me away from you altogether.”
“I couldn’t give a damn about your father.”
Regan’s mouth dried at his words. It was a lie. She could see it in his eyes. There was a wealth of pain. But something else as well. A sudden unease tightened Regan’s throat. She’d always known her grandfather to be ruthless, but in this moment, there was a hint of madness in the old man’s eyes.
“I will have an answer,” he said calmly.
“It has always been the same answer. Why should it change now?”
“Your marriage to this man is an absolute disaster,” he gritted. “Only your father would have approved of such stupidity.”
The duke drew in a ragged breath. He stepped beside her and she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.
Resignation creased the soft flesh around his mouth.
He shook his head sadly. “Regan, I am giving you one more opportunity to come back and to erase the past. I will not be stopped if you force my hand.”
She turned towards him, looking him in the eyes. Whatever pain had been in them was gone now. They shone hard without remorse or mercy.
“I say it again, Regan,” he whispered urgently. “Come back. Take the place your father abandoned. Be what you were born to be. A Chance.”
Regan drew in a slow breath. “I’m a Hazard now.”
“Pity.” The softness of his word filled the air with threat.
A sick warning tugged at her stomach. “What are you driving at, Your Grace? What’s done is done.”
“You seem to forget who I am.” He shook his head and stepped away. “At every turn, your father tried to destroy everything I stand for. Look what happened to him.”
He had been murdered, brutally in a back alley.
“What are you saying,” she demanded.
“Clinging to Hazard and your ways is a vast mistake, my dear.”
“I disagree,” she countered.
The duke smiled softly. It should have been a kind, sympathetic smile, but it was cold, like a predator going in for the final strike. “Then I suppose he has told you everything?”
“I trust Jack. He would not lie to me.”
Her grandfather sighed and shook his head. “I lament your naivety. Like your father, it is, I think, your fatal flaw. It will ruin you in the end.”
“Say what you’ve come to say or leave,” Regan said, her voice echoing weirdly in her ears.
“Clearly he never told you that he was working for me.” The duke glanced down at his cane. “All along.” He looked back up, his gaze triumphant. “I hired him to watch you, guard you, and report everything to me.”
“I don’t believe you,” she rushed. Jack hated men like her grandfather. There was no chance he would work for one. Besides, he wouldn’t betray her thus.
“No, I’m sure you don’t.” He reached into the fold of hi
s black coat and pulled out a small bundle of letters bound with a dark blue ribbon. “But I think you shall believe these.”
He held them out, his fingers barely touching the ribbon. “Take them.”
Regan hesitated. He was lying. Jack wouldn’t have kept such a thing from her.
“For such a truth seeker, you seem unwilling to seek it now.”
Silently, Regan stretched out her hand. He dropped the letters into her palm. The parchment brushed against her skin and, though weightless, they felt like lead.
“Please leave my home,” she said hollowly.
Chiles inclined his head. “Things could have been very different, Regan. You could have been my granddaughter. The world would have followed your every command.”
He strode to the door then stopped and glanced over his shoulder. “You have set about a course of actions that will not be stopped.”
The bitterness in his words hung between them and remained in the air as he strode out the door.
Regan stood in the middle of the room, grasping the letters in her hand. Suddenly, she felt lost. No one could help her with this.
Regan tightened her fingers around the crisp parchment. She looked at the fireplace. The warm embers beckoned. If she dropped the letters into the fire, she would never have to know the truth.
Her chest constricted. She would always wonder. She would look at Jack with suspicion.
Biting her lip, Regan hesitantly opened the first letter. It was dated merely two days after she’d hired Jack. Details of her actions, her whereabouts, all reported by Mr. Brent, filled the page.
Regan’s knees buckled as her heart sank. She knelt down, her skirts rippling about. She shuffled through the parchment and opened another. Reports by Mr. Brent, signed by Captain Hazard. And then she came to the next letter. The bold, wiry script of Jack’s hand jumped out at her. The letter was addressed to her grandfather and detailed the interaction with Geoffrey and the nature of his duties as her guard in her house.
A tear slipped down Regan’s cheek.
Jack had saved her life. He’d made love to her body. Made love to her soul. And all this time, he had been working for the one person she hated. He’d married her with this lie between them. He had made it seem as though he, too, loathed her grandfather and yet he had been telling the duke everything. Pain like a blade cut through her chest. Regan wiped the tear away with the back of her hand. She needed to go back to something simple. To what meant something more than just herself. It was the only thing that would save her from her own terrifying doubts now.
Lords of the Isles Page 205
