Never Conspire with a Sinful Baron

by Renee Ann Miller

  He nudged her thighs wide and settled his body between her legs.

  The weight of his hard length pressed into her. Wanting more of him in her, she arched.

  His mouth met hers with a hungry kiss.

  Nina answered back, her lips and tongue moved against his. As they kissed, she felt him slipping farther into her. Caroline had said there might be pain, but there was none. Just a sensation of stretching to accommodate.

  Elliot stilled.

  “Are we done?”

  “Oh, no, love. We are just getting started. I only wanted to make sure I wasn’t hurting you.”

  She shook her head. “No, it feels . . .” She wasn’t sure how to explain it. Nice seemed too benign. “Pleasant.”

  “Well, we have to do better than that.” He smiled and pulled back slightly, then pushed closer again. Tighter. The same tiny beat at her sex started again. She slid her palm over his back and set her tongue to his shoulder and tasted his skin.

  He made a noise, which revealed he liked her mouth on him. His hips were still moving in rhythmic, slow thrust, drawing her closer to her climax.

  It crashed over her with more force than the first time . . . perhaps because, on the last thrust, he’d brought his mouth to her ear and whispered, “I love you.”

  “I love you as well. With every fiber of my being.”

  He smiled, then pushed deep into her, and by the way he tensed, she knew he filled her with his seed.

  There was no turning back.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Elliot stared at Nina as she slept nestled in his arms. A few minutes ago, the clock on the mantel had softly chimed five times. He pressed a kiss to her lips, and she made a groggy noise. “Nina, love, I need to get you home.”

  In response, she curled her body tighter to his.

  He’d let her sleep ten more minutes.

  He drew in the scent of her hair and pulled her tighter to him.

  Bang, bang, bang. What seemed only a few minutes later, someone pounded the knocker against Elliot’s front door in rapid succession—the sound loud enough to wake the dead in Kensal Green Cemetery.

  Who the hell would . . . ? He glanced at Nina snuggled next to him and the light streaming through the crack in the heavy curtains. His gaze jerked to the clock.

  Damnation. Ten o’clock. Not a few minutes later, but a few hours. He’d fallen asleep.

  He peered at Zeb, fast asleep. Of all the days for the dog not to wake him. He raked his fingers through his hair. Easy to figure out who was at his door. He had a feeling if duels weren’t illegal, he’d be choosing his second and meeting Huntington in a secluded area of Hyde Park before noon.

  As it was, he wasn’t sure if the man would just shoot him dead.

  He heard the slow-moving steps of his valet. The man scratched on the door. “My lord, there is a Lord Huntington here to see you. The gentleman is in a highly agitated state.”

  “Show him to the drawing room and tell him I will be down shortly.”

  He glanced at Nina; she’d not budged. She slept like a rock. She was the soundest sleeper he’d ever seen. He moved the hair off her neck and nibbled the sensitive skin. “Nina, love. We overslept.”

  “Hmmm, that’s nice.” She rolled over and pulled the blankets over her head.

  Elliot would have laughed if not for the fact that he might be about to draw in his final breath and meet his maker. He slipped from the bed and dragged his robe over his shoulders.

  “I love you,” he whispered and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek.

  She stirred ever so slightly.

  They’d both confessed their feelings to each other several times during the night. Elliot recalled how a tear had trailed down Nina’s cheek as she’d admitted she loved him. He wasn’t sure if it was fear or joy that had caused it, but he was determined to prove to her during their lives that he would cherish her till he drew his final breath, which hopefully wasn’t in a few minutes.

  Outside his door, Wilson looked paler than he normally did, as did the housekeeper, who stood behind him.

  The valet’s gaze veered over Elliot’s shoulder to Nina lying in his bed. The man mumbled the Lord’s name. Surely a prayer. “Should I see if I can find a constable before you go downstairs?”

  “No. But perhaps you should stay up here.” He didn’t want Wilson or Mrs. Lamb to be hit by a stray bullet if Huntington started shooting wildly.

  He descended the steps and stepped into the drawing room to find the marquess pacing back and forth as he rubbed at the muscles in the back of his neck.

  “Huntington,” Elliot said.

  The man spun around to face him. Both worry and agitation etched on his face. “Is my sister here?”

  The man’s concern for his sister’s well-being left Elliot with no option but the truth.

  “She is.”

  “You bastard!” Huntington’s keen regard swept over Elliot’s robe and bare feet.

  Appearing in his robe with not a stitch of clothing on underneath wasn’t the wisest way to face Nina’s brother while she lay naked in his bed—even if she intended on marrying him.

  Like a starved lion spotting its prey, Huntington stalked toward him as if ready to make his kill. “I’m going to bloody well see that you are put six feet under.” The marquess swung his fisted hand at Elliot’s face.

  Better than a bullet to the head, Elliot thought as he ducked the blow. He had only a slim chance of surviving a bullet. And though Elliot had seen the marquess fight at Clapton’s Boxing Club and knew him to be an extremely capable fighter, a round of fisticuffs Elliot could handle.

  “Huntington, I love your sister and wish to marry her.”

  The man seemed in too much of a rage to hear him. With a bloodthirsty gleam in his eyes, Nina’s eldest brother swung again, clipping Elliot in the ear.

  Bloody hell. Elliot might deserve a good trouncing, but he would not let the marquess beat him to a pulp. “Huntington, I will not stand here like a dunce and let you pummel me.”

  “I don’t want you to. I want you to fight back. That way, I can hit you harder.”

  Elliot blocked Huntington’s next jab, then struck him in the gut.

  Air swished out of the marquess’s mouth, but he grinned as if relishing the fight. “Come on, you bloody sod.”

  “Huntington, this won’t—” Nina’s brother planted a facer on Elliot, halting his words. Pain shot from his jaw to his temple. The inside of his head felt fuzzy.

  Elliot stepped back and waved him to come after him. “Come on, Huntington. You want a piece of me, then try to take it. I’m done trying to talk sense into you. If it’s a fight you want, I’ll give you one.”

  The left side of Huntington’s mouth turned up in a feral grin as he moved toward Elliot.

  Huntington favored an aggressive stance, usually putting his opponents on the ropes.

  Elliot would not allow him to back him up. He needed to act as aggressive. He struck him with a combination, hitting his jaw, then gut.

  The marquess blinked and shook his head as if wishing to clear his vision.

  They exchanged several more blows.

  The metallic tasted of blood filled Elliot’s mouth.

  With his sleeve, Huntington swiped at his bleeding nose.

  They both were breathing hard when, over Huntington’s shoulder, Elliot saw the door inch open.

  Wilson hesitantly stuck his head into the room. “My lord, a Lady Caroline Huntington is here.”

  The man had just gotten the words out when Lady Huntington brushed by the servant and strode into the room, looking out of breath. She narrowed her eyes at them. “Are you two done acting like barbarians?”

  Huntington dashed over to her. “Caroline, love, you look unwell. Is something wrong?”

  She glowered. “Of course, something is wrong. When I told you it was a possibility Nina was at Lord Ralston’s residence, I asked you to wait for me before you came charging over here.”

  “You
didn’t walk here, did you?” her husband asked.

  “No, I did not walk here. I all but ran. I couldn’t wait for a groomsman to ready my carriage. I knew if you found Nina here you would do something like this.” She waved her hand to his bleeding nose and disheveled clothes.

  “What did you expect me to do, Caroline? Pat Ralston on the back and say, ‘Bang-up job, old chum’? ‘Hope you had a grand time deflowering my sister’?”

  “Of course not. But behaving like this will not settle anything. Is Nina even here?”

  The object of their conversation stepped into the room. Though Nina wore her gown, she looked thoroughly tumbled. Her long black hair trailed over her shoulders. Her lips were kiss swollen, and she, like him, wore no shoes.

  “What in God’s name . . .” She looked at him. “Elliot, you’re bleeding.” She gave her brother a hard stare. “James, you brute. What have you done?”

  “What do you mean what have I done? I have a bloody nose, so don’t look at him as if I beat him senseless without getting my fair share.” Huntington swiped the back of his hand over the blood seeping out of his nostrils.

  “Well, you deserved it.” Nina set a hand on her hip.

  “I came here to protect your honor.”

  “My honor does not need protecting.”

  “No?” With a sweep of his hand, he motioned to her disheveled appearance. “I can see you’ve already tossed it into the rubbish pail.”

  Nina’s face turned red.

  “Watch what you say to my fiancée, Huntington. Or I’ll damn well break your nose this time.”

  Nina turned and smiled at him. “Fiancée. Oh, I like the way that sounds.”

  “I don’t see a ring,” Huntington snarled.

  Elliot got down on his knee and slipped off his signet ring. “Nina, will you marry me?”

  “I will.” Excitement glinted in her eyes.

  Elliot slipped the ring on her finger.

  Huntington folded his arms over his chest. “You really want to marry this bounder?”

  “I do.”

  Elliot wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her body to his side. “You might not believe me, Huntington, but I love your sister. I will do everything within my powers to make her happy.”

  “See, he loves her, darling, and she loves him,” Caroline said. “And really, isn’t that all that matters?”

  “Hmmm.” Nina’s brother glanced around the room pointedly, as if taking in its shabby appearance.

  Last week, Elliot had not only worked on the plaster in his bedroom, but he’d repaired the ceiling in this room as well. He’d done a dashed good job, if he could say so himself, but like most of the other rooms in this town house, the rugs were threadbare and the furniture dingy. Elliot realized what Huntington was pondering—the possibility he’d seduced Nina for her dowry. It might have started that way, but he would have walked out of her life if she’d loved Fernbridge. He just wanted her to be happy.

  Huntington opened his mouth.

  Elliot held up a hand. “Nina, Lady Huntington, will you give us a moment alone?”

  “I do not know if we should,” Nina said. “If we walk out of this room, are you both going to act rationally? Or are you going to try to knock each other’s heads off?”

  Huntington released a slow breath. “We will be fine.”

  Lady Huntington flung her husband a warning glance before she and Nina strode out of the drawing room.

  As soon as the door closed, Elliot spoke. “I know what you are thinking. But you are wrong. I love your sister. This has nothing to do with her dowry.”

  The marquess cocked a brow.

  Elliot hated to see the doubt in the man’s face. “My uncle did not handle his money wisely. I am not so reckless. I am making repairs. The roof is new, and the bathing room has been updated with running water. I am determined to make this a home your sister will be proud to receive callers in. But more importantly, I will always cherish her.”

  The door opened. Nina poked her head inside the room. “I don’t care about the furnishings. What you just said was the sweetest thing anyone has ever said. And I can help. I will soon be a working woman.”

  “What?” Elliot blinked.

  “I’m going to take a job at Caroline’s paper. I will be the illustrator.”

  “What do you think of that, Lord Ralston?” This from Lady Huntington, who watched him closely over Nina’s shoulder.

  “Well, it’s unconventional, but Nina loves sketching. So, if it pleases her, it pleases me.”

  “It does?” Nina asked.

  “Of course.”

  Huntington shook his head. “If you are looking for unconventional, then you have found the right family. But I still don’t think it a wise union. Once a scoundrel, always a scoundrel.”

  “That’s not true,” Nina interjected. “How about your dear friends Lord Westfield and Lord Adler? Both were notorious rakes and are now happily married.”

  Lady Huntington stepped over to her husband and poked him in the ribs. “She has you there, darling.”

  He grunted and rubbed at where his wife had prodded him. “Caroline, I am battered and bruised. Please don’t add to my injuries.”

  She arched a trim brow. “And whose fault is that, dear husband?”

  The marquess turned his glare on Elliot. “I want the banns read starting next week.”

  Elliot looked at Nina. “I wish to acquire a special license.”

  Nina smiled at him.

  “Considering the circumstances, it is probably for the best. If you cannot get the archbishop to agree, let me know.” Huntington tugged on the cuffs of his sleeve and straightened his coat, then cast Elliot a hard stare. “I warn you, Ralston—hurt my sister and I’ll make you pay.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  In the drawing room of his Charles Street residence, Elliot stood by the mantel and stared at the clock as it ticked the minutes. Hard to believe he was to be married in less than an hour.

  He glanced at his sister, who’d arrived in London yesterday. She wore a simple sky-blue gown that he’d purchased for her at Harrods. He’d wanted to buy her something more elaborate, but she’d said it was the bride’s day to shine. He had a feeling that wasn’t the sole reason. His sister didn’t wish to stand out.

  “Are you nervous?” Meg asked, grinning. The playful tone in her voice was refreshing after the row they’d had last night. The stubborn girl still insisted she would not return to Mrs. Gibbs’s School.

  “Anxious more than anything,” Elliot replied.

  “I can tell. If your foot taps any harder against the floorboards, you might weaken them.”

  The sound of rain pattering against the panes of glass drew his attention to the window. He walked over and pulled a heavy curtain panel back. The sky had shifted from blue to gray with dark, angry clouds hovering above.

  “Hopefully, it will stop before the ceremony.” Meg stepped beside him.

  He nodded. A black carriage with the Duke of Fernbridge’s seal moved slowly down the street. Even with the light rain, he could see Fernbridge’s blond hair and the scathing expression on the man’s face. Nina had sent a letter to the duke explaining she’d accepted Elliot’s marriage proposal.

  For a minute, Elliot thought His Grace intended to stop. But it wouldn’t be in Fernbridge’s nature to concede defeat, and he was sure that was how the duke saw Nina’s decision to marry Elliot.

  * * *

  The light drizzle that started before Nina and Elliot’s wedding had turned into a torrent of rain by the conclusion of the ceremony. So far, if one disregarded the inclement weather, everything else had gone off without a hitch.

  Startling, if Elliot considered the lethal glower Nina’s brother James had hurled at him during the ceremony. At one point, he’d wondered if the man contemplated putting a knife in his back. Even her debauched brother, Anthony, was giving him a deadly stare as Elliot and Nina stood in the vestibule, preparing to exit the church. />
  Elliot’s gaze shifted to the Dowager of Huntington. The old woman’s countenance was unreadable. Perhaps that was how Nina’s grandmother looked while planning someone’s demise.

  Elliot thought of the urn that had tumbled off the roof at the house party, and, once again, wondered about the old woman. No, a preposterous thought. She was cantankerous, overbearing, but surely not capable of murder. It was an accident. Though it seemed he’d had his share of them.

  At least, he’d scraped up enough blunt to have all the wheels on the carriage replaced and the interior reupholstered with navy velvet. He would not have either his wife or sister riding around in an unsafe vehicle.

  Nina and Elliot dashed to the carriage and settled inside.

  “Husband,” she said, talking over the patter of the rain hitting the roof. She smiled. “I’ve been relishing the thought of calling you husband all week.”

  Husband? The word seemed odd, yet somehow perfect when she peered at him with her lovely face with no traces of apprehension. The fact that she trusted him meant more than anything else.

  “It sounds beautiful coming from you.” He touched her cheek, and though it seemed unnecessary with the rivulets of rain slipping over the windows making it almost impossible for anyone to see inside, Elliot tugged the shades down.

  In the darkened space, Nina’s soft laugh filtered into the air. “What are you up to, Elliot?”

  “Throughout the ceremony, all I could think of was making love to you again.” He pulled her onto his lap and brushed his lips gently against hers before deepening the kiss.

  With a purr of pleasure, she wrapped her arms about his neck and returned his heated kiss.

  Having her in his arms with their mouths pressed together felt so right. Perfect. He slipped his hand under the skirt of her white gown, gliding his hands over one of her smooth legs, encased in silk stockings.

  She moaned against his mouth and parted her legs slightly.

  He found the small slit in her drawers and drew his finger over her already wet folds.

  She moaned again.

  Damnation. He needed to stop. They were probably close to Huntington’s residence and entering the house for the wedding breakfast with a cockstand pressing noticeably against the front of his trousers would surely break some unwritten rule of proper etiquette.