His Wicked Embrace

by Adrienne Basso

  “Anything?” Isabella asked.

  “More dust, I think. No, wait—there is something solid. It is probably a cross beam.” Sweat lined the earl’s brow as he pushed and strained his body to reach farther inside the hole. “It moved.”

  Catherine’s small scream of excitement ricocheted through the room.

  “Don’t tease us, Damien,” Isabella said, striving to contain her emotions. “Have you truly found something?”

  “Yes, I have,” Damien said. “It appears to be a wooden box, and it is too heavy to lift with one arm.” The earl picked himself off the floor and brushed the dust from his jacket. “Run and fetch a rope, Ian. I will try to tie the cord around the box and pull it up.”

  Ian returned with the rope in record time. It took the earl a while, but eventually he fashioned a noose and successfully looped it around the mysterious wooden box.

  Isabella could barely breathe as she watched Damien slowly drag the box from beneath the floor. It was not overly large, but Damien’s grunts and groans indicated that it was very heavy.

  The earl placed his find in the middle of the room. Everyone stood in silent awe for several moments and stared at it.

  “There is a big lock on the front,” Ian said. “We don’t have a key. How will we open it?”

  Damien stepped forward and whacked at the lock with his hammer. It came apart on the fourth hit.

  . “Since you made the discovery, Catherine, ’tis only fitting that you do the honors,” Damien decided.

  Wide-eyed Catherine lifted the lid, and when Isabella saw the child’s lower jaw drop, she knew they had discovered Lady Anne’s treasure.

  “It is so shiny,” Catherine whispered, putting her hand inside and coming up with a fistful of gold coins.

  Ian immediately plunged his hand inside. “It feels cold,” he giggled, waving an emerald necklace. “Does this mean we are very rich?”

  Damien smiled at his son and daughter and placed a loving arm around his wife.

  “I hope you will learn, as I have, that true wealth is measured in many ways. I believe we already possess riches beyond price,” Damien said with emotion. “This treasure is a mere trifle in comparison.”

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  HIS NOBLE PROMISE

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  Chapter One

  Devon, England—June, 1816

  The Earl of Rosslyn’s ballroom sparkled with glittering candlelight and lavish colors as the dizzying number of festively costumed guests mingled amongst themselves. The assembled crowd danced to the strains of lighthearted music, indulged in the sumptuous buffet of rich food, and flirted with carefree abandon from behind the anonymity of their masks.

  Laughter and muted conversation drifted out through the French windows along the length of the ballroom, which had been opened to allow in the evening breeze. There was an atmosphere of gaiety punctuated with an air of excitement among the guests that was almost contagious.

  Clearly everyone was having a marvelous time. Except Lord Mulgrave. He was the single point of incongruity in the entire ballroom as he stood alone and brooded, observing all the elegance and fanfare with growing annoyance. Where the devil was she?

  “Must you stand so near the entrance to my ballroom, Richard?” the Earl of Rosslyn asked with a sarcastic twist in his voice. “Your expression is set with such furious determination that it is frightening many of my guests.”

  “Shut up, Ian,” Lord Mulgrave replied darkly. “I have been waiting over two hours for Nigel’s darling Miss Paget to arrive. Apparently she lacks the wit to tell time correctly, for she is far beyond fashionably late. I am in no mood for joviality.”

  Richard tried scowling at his host and lifelong friend, but was unable to keep from grinning. The former Captain Simons was now the current Earl of Rosslyn, and Richard was pleased that Ian had taken his unexpected role as an earl so seriously. With only the occasional lapse in good judgment. Such as this evening.

  Ian should have looked ridiculous in the white Roman toga trimmed in gold, sandals on his feet and a laurel wreath encircling his blond head, but amazingly he didn’t. He looked strikingly commanding and regal.

  Of course, only Ian could have invented such a bizarre reason for a costume ball—the anniversary of Wellington’s victory at Waterloo—and gotten the entire neighborhood of nobles, along with a smattering of the beau monde, to attend. Most of them dressed in outrageous outfits ranging from a swashbuckling pirate to Henry VIII.

  “Ah, yes—Miss Paget.” Ian signaled a passing footman and snagged two flutes of champagne off the silver tray the servant carried. He handed one to Richard. “I remember. You want to speak with Miss Paget the moment she arrives. What exactly are you planning to do to the poor thing?”

  “Scare her away from Nigel, I hope. If she is as shallow as I suspect, it should not be that difficult a task.”

  Ian lifted his goblet in a mock salute, and the two men clinked glasses. But Richard sipped his champagne distractedly, his eyes never leaving the rounded archway entrance to the ballroom. The steady stream of newly arriving guests had dwindled to a mere trickle, yet Richard knew Nigel’s little darling had to descend these steps to enter the ballroom. And Lord Mulgrave would be waiting.

  Surprise was the key element in Richard’s plan of attack this evening. It was imperative that he reach Miss Paget before Nigel had an opportunity to introduce them. He wanted time alone with the little schemer without her knowing with whom she was speaking.

  “Do you want me to distract Miss Paget?” Ian volunteered. “I met her last week at the Tollies’ dinner party. She is rather attractive in a pretty, girlish way. It would not be a great hardship to lavish attention on her. I can be most charming when pressed, especially with the ladies.”

  “I know.” Richard laughed under his breath. “From barmaid to noblewoman and across all continents.”

  “It might work,” Ian persisted, taking a large swallow of champagne. “After all, I inherited the title of earl from my brother, God rest his soul, last year. I am already an earl, while Nigel is merely a baron and will have to wait many years before he inherits. If Miss Paget throws in her lot with me, she will not have to wait eons to become a countess.”

  “She would have to wait an eternity.” Lord Mulgrave tipped the remaining drops of champagne into his mouth. “If Miss Paget is only half as clever as I think, she will already be well aware of the fact that you are an outrageous flirt, and an occasionally charming and experienced rake. The type of man known for browsing among unmarried females, but never seriously considering making a permanent selection. The prospect of marriage has always made you jittery.”

  “Your cruel words wound me, Richard,” Ian replied lightly.

  “I know from years of experience that it is impossible to penetrate your foolish hide,” Lord Mulgrave commented with a smile. “By the way, you look ridiculous in that getup.” Julius Caesar, my arse.”

  “I like how my costume shows off the strength of my legs,” Ian remarked mildly. He straightened his broad shoulders and adjusted the laurel wreath in his hair. “I recently discovered that women have an affinity for men’s muscular bare legs. Capitalizing on that weakness left me with a choice of Roman emperor or highland warrior, but I had trouble fastening the damn kilt. That left Rome the victor.”

  “You are impossible,” Lord Mulgrave said fondly. Ian was probably the only person in the entire room who could bring a genuine smile to his face tonight. “And I refuse to ask how you acquired this insane knowledge about females’ interest in men’s bare legs. Frankly, I don’t want to know.”

  Shifting his attention away from his host, Richard once again scanned the crowded ballroom. There were actually several people he recognized, despite their costumes and masks. Of course, not all the gentlemen were dressed up. Many, like himself, were garbed in black
formal evening clothes.

  “I have not seen Miles all evening. Is he here?” Lord Mulgrave asked.

  The humor immediately receded from Ian’s eyes. “Yes, Miles arrived last night,” Ian replied tersely. “We need to discuss our mutual friend. I am worried. I have heard rumors about Miles since he returned to England, but paid them no heed. I should have. He has developed quite a reputation as a reckless gamester with a violent temper. Most recently he has been banned from White’s for one full year for brawling in the card room.”

  “Miles? Our own level-headed Captain Nightingall brawling? And gambling? It seems impossible.”

  Ian shook his head. “He is not the man we knew. Miles has changed, and not for the better.”

  Richard grabbed Ian’s arm. “Why haven’t you told me?”

  “You have other, more immediate problems to manage at present. We will both confront Miles when the time is right.”

  Ian stiffened suddenly. Richard turned his head, following his friend’s gaze. A gaily attired group of guests were converging on the steps leading to the ballroom.

  “Is it her?”

  Ian smiled softly. “Brace yourself, Richard. Miss Paget has finally arrived.”

  “Oh, here comes our host, the Earl of Rosslyn. Is he not handsome in that costume? He has the most enchanting smile.” Nicole squealed. “Good heavens, you can see his unclothed legs!”

  Anne ceased fussing with the folds of her gown and raised her head. The earl’s costume did indeed afford a splendid view of his muscular calves, but after a brief admiring glance, Anne’s attention was drawn to the man by his side.

  They were quite a contrasting sight. Although both tall, attractive men, the stranger possessed an arrogantly commanding air that bespoke obedience. His power went beyond his obvious physical strength. Anne knew without a doubt that here was a man whose wishes were seldom thwarted.

  “Who is that tall, serious man beside the earl?”

  “I do not know,” Nicole whispered. “He is rather formidable looking.”

  Conversation between the sisters ceased as the earl and his companion drew near.

  “Welcome, welcome,” the earl called out merrily. “I am indeed honored to count you among my guests this evening. Lady Althen, you make a positively smashing Marie Antoinette. I fear it will be us poor gentlemen who lose our heads around you tonight.”

  Anne’s mother snapped opened her fan in response, clearly pleased with the earl’s teasing flirtation. “Good evening, my lord,” she said pleasantly, dropping a low, elegant curtsey. “I believe you are already acquainted with my husband, Baron Althen, and my daughters, Nicole and Anne. Although I shall not spoil the surprise and tell you who is behind each mask. I leave that discovery to you, my lord.”

  “Mystery has always been a female’s most powerful ally.” The earl shook hands with the baron and bowed to the ladies. “I am delighted you can attend my humble gathering. May I present a close friend who has specifically requested an introduction to the Miss Pagets.”

  The earl turned to his companion, and Anne saw the warning look in the stranger’s eye. Apparently so did the earl, and he must have reacted as silently commanded because when he began to speak, the warning look in stranger’s eyes was replaced by appraising interest.

  “Although my friend has chosen to forgo the ritual of a costume,” the earl said calmly, “at my request he has agreed to join in the spirit of the evening by keeping his true identity a secret until the midnight unmasking. Therefore I shall simply introduce him as my dear friend, Lord Richard.”

  Lord Richard gave a proper, albeit swift bow while the earl finished the introductions. Anne took the opportunity to study him. Up close, the stranger was even more attractive, she quickly decided. He had deep green eyes that contrasted strikingly with his dark brown hair. His strong, lean features were classically handsome, and his smile, though briefly seen, was nothing short of dazzling.

  He carried himself with arrogant purpose, and there was an air of military command emanating from him even when he was standing still. Who was this mysterious stranger? Anne wondered.

  Lord Richard turned his perceptive gaze toward her and Anne’s heart began a steady, maddening thumping. His look was almost accusatory, but Anne convinced herself that was impossible. She had just met the man. Determined to prove she was merely being fanciful, Anne lifted her chin and boldly returned his stare.

  He gave her a dark, seductive smile that revealed a depth of raw masculine virility far more appropriate for the bedchamber than the ballroom.

  Anne’s jaw nearly dropped. Unnerved, she flashed a brief, restrained smile and pulled her eyes away from the stranger. Nicole was chatting animatedly with the earl and her parents, and Anne pretended great interest in their conversation. In truth, she was desperately attempting to regulate her breathing.

  “May I escort you into the ballroom, Miss Paget?”

  His voice—deep, strong and masculine—seemed to come from far away. Yet when Anne shifted her attention toward Lord Richard, he stood no more than a few feet directly in front of her, his vivid eyes holding her captive once again.

  An obvious silence greeted his request.

  Even Nicole ceased speaking, in midsentence. Anne’s entire family stared at Lord Richard as if he had taken leave of his senses. Anne? He had requested Anne’s company? This simply did not happen, especially when she was in the presence of one of her sisters.

  Anne was always the last one chosen, if at all. More often than not, she sat among the elderly matrons and chaperones, keeping a sharp eye on the activities of her sister as they danced and flirted until the wee hours of the morning.

  The earl cleared his throat. “Um, Lord Richard, would you kindly escort Miss Paget, the charming Grecian goddess, to the buffet so I may dance with the lovely Queen Elizabeth?”

  Anne pressed her lips together nervously, realizing her host was probably trying to smooth over an awkward misunderstanding. Naturally Lord Richard really meant to ask Nicole to accompany him. Didn’t he?

  “I would be delighted to bring Miss Paget to the buffet after I claim the first dance with our good Queen Bess,” Lord Richard countered.

  Anne’s father coughed. Her mother began fanning herself with a short, fluttering motion, launching puffy clouds of powder from her wig into the air. Nicole stood completely still, her mouth visible beneath her mask, shaped into a perfect oval.

  Anne felt a trickle of sweat run down her back and hoped the stain would not show. She hated being so conspicuous, the object of everyone’s undivided attention. Yet was it so completely extraordinary to imagine that this handsome stranger had chosen her over her sister? Especially since they were both wearing masks, and he could not possibly appreciate the full impact of Nicole’s fair beauty.

  Drawing herself up, Anne stared hard at Lord Richard. His expression was one of open innocence, but she suspected there was a very deliberate reason for his request. She was genuinely puzzled, but also intrigued.

  “I would be honored, my lord,” Anne replied in a soft voice.

  He bowed politely before offering his arm, yet his deep green eyes did not leave her face. Anne was immediately glad the matching mask she had crafted for her costume was the one component of the outfit that fit her perfectly. It covered most of her face except her eyes, mouth, and jaw. Combined with the elaborate red wig she was wearing, it somehow seem to protect her from Lord Richard’s penetrating gaze.

  With her fingers resting lightly on his sleeve, Anne slowly descended the staircase. It was difficult to walk smoothly. The skirt of her costume was widely flared and jutted out stiffly from her hips, which were padded by great folds of cloth creating a drum shape. The stiff ruff that fanned out behind her head made quick turns of her neck impossible.

  The dress might have been considered simple in Queen Elizabeth’s time, but it was a far more elaborate and cumbersome outfit than Anne had ever worn. She only hoped that she would be able to move about the room with at
least a hint of grace.

  Lord Richard brought her to the edge of the ballroom, and they watched the glittering, brightly dressed crowd swirl pass them. The lack of conversation should have been unnerving, but instead Anne felt oddly calm. When he wasn’t scrutinizing her, Lord Richard’s powerful presence gave her an almost protected feeling.

  Then he touched her arm. The warmth of his fingers easily penetrated the thin material of her sleeve, and pleasure flushed through her. How strange. The tingling sensations seem to run from the top of her head down to her toes. Anne took a deliberate breath and told herself to calm down.

  She was acting like a green girl, an innocent child at her first grownup party. Lord Richard was merely leading her onto the dance floor. There was no need to be so flustered. Yet how odd that the warmth of his fingers had sent her heart racing.

  Striving to gain her equilibrium, Anne muttered the first thing that popped into her head.

  “Do you have an affinity for queens?” she inquired as they joined the set forming on the dance floor. “Is that why you partnered me for this dance instead of my sister?

  “Redheads,” Lord Richard answered with a sly grin.

  Anne felt herself blushing behind her mask. “Then I must in good conscience tell you the truth, my lord. I am wearing a wig.”

  “I know.”

  The rhythm of the music came together, and their dance began. Lord Richard slid his arm possessively around Anne’s waist, and she stifled the cry of surprise in her throat, realizing for the first time that their dance was to be a waltz.

  Anne chided herself for being so foolish. What was wrong with her? She had never been the belle of any ball, but she had danced the waltz countless times with many different men. She swallowed the apprehension in her throat and fixed her eyes on an imaginary point over Lord Richard’s left shoulder. When the dance began, she was ready. Or so she thought.

  It was like being awake during a glorious, exciting dream. He danced beautifully. Anne followed his lead naturally, gliding and twirling gracefully about the floor. As they whirled around the crowded room, Anne tried not to dwell on how Lord Richard made her feel. Every nerve ending was more taut, every touch more intense, every smell more pungent. He was somehow able to heighten all of her senses just by his close proximity.