“Rook and Harcourt still have it, don’t they? They’re determined to turn it over to Leonard and think that will end this. I know better. Do you know where it is? Can you retrieve it or take me to it?”
Juliana stared at him across the room. He didn’t look like her attentive lover anymore. Or the flash of genuineness she sometimes caught. He didn’t look like the false mask of Handsome Ellis Maitland either.
No, he looked like something else entirely. A darker, more dangerous Ellis. The kind of man who had found a way to survive on the street. The kind of man who looked out for himself and didn’t care who he hurt in the process. And her sister’s words to her in the hallway suddenly echoed again.
“That’s what you came for, isn’t it?” she asked. “Is…is the rest of this just using me?”
Chapter 21
Ellis drew back at the question, spoken so softly but with enough power to rock him back on his heels. All his life, the answer to anyone who would have asked that question, are you using me, had been yes. To survive, he’d had to use others. To win, he’d done the same. Relationships were a currency to him. They’d had to be because letting them be anything more was only a threat to himself. Look at how Leonard could leverage his bonds with Rook or Gabriel even now.
But in this moment, staring at the woman across the room, the one worrying her hands before her and refusing to meet his gaze, he recognized something terrifying.
He wasn’t using her. He couldn’t use her. Because he was in love with her.
For a moment, the thrill of that realization nearly gave his heart wings. But then, the reality set in, as it always must.
Love was only pain. Especially in this case because within hours, days at best, he hoped to be facing off with a murderer. When it was over, he would be dead or transported. Either way, he would be gone. So loving her was only pain, and he could hardly bear it.
Part of him wanted to push her away because of it. To declare that he was, indeed, using her. It would be better for her, even if it broke his own heart. If he removed any inkling she had that he cared for her, when he was gone she would recover from the betrayal all the faster.
But then there was the other side. The side of him she had woken so gently and carefully and beautifully. The side that didn’t want to leave her feeling used and broken by him. The side that wanted her to know she mattered. She had always mattered, from that first moment on the hill in Harcourt when he’d folded his arms around her and tried to comfort her. He hadn’t wanted what he felt when he did that. He’d pretended it away, but it had been there, making him question every decision he’d ever made.
She would matter until the moment when he kissed her for the final time and walked away to save her and everyone they both loved so deeply. The second side won out, because she had given that side life.
“Ellis?” she whispered.
He moved toward her in three long steps and caught her hand. He drew her back as he sat down on a chair before her fire and tugged her into his lap. He cupped her cheeks, holding gently, forcing her to look into his face so she would see. So she would know the truth.
“I may lie about everything else,” he said, hearing the roughness of his voice. The broken hitch of it that reflected his equally broken soul, his newly broken heart. “But not this. Your sister was wrong when she spoke to you in the hallway. I am not using you, Juliana. Yes, I came here because I want to end this madness with Leonard. I want to protect my brother and my cousin, but also to protect you and your family. But I also came here because…”
He trailed off and stared up into those green eyes. He could read her because he could always read people. He saw the flicker to her gaze, the gauzy sparkle of tears. He felt her soft in his arms, but also taut with waiting. With wanting.
What he saw, to his great shock and deepest awe and gratitude…was her love for him. Juliana Shelley, who was worth ten of him, fifty of him…loved him. Despite his past. Despite his mistakes. Despite everything he’d ever done. She loved him. In this moment, she was his, truly his.
“Why did you come here, Ellis?” she asked, her voice shaking.
He stroked his thumbs along her cheekbones, tracing the scar his actions had left behind. Ones he had been forgiven for, even if he hadn’t earned it. He had to earn it. And he would…soon.
“I came here because you have become the center of my world,” he whispered. “And I can’t resist you, no matter how I try. No matter how I know I should.”
“Then don’t,” she murmured back, and dropped her lips to his.
When she kissed him, he was lost. Except no, that was wrong. They’d both confessed to each other that they were lost. But together they were found. He could see a life stretching out ahead of them. A happy life filled with adventure and atonement and joy and pleasure.
But it was a life he couldn’t have.
And with his heart breaking, he tilted her head and kissed her more deeply. This was the last time he would ever make love to her. He knew that in his heart. And he was going to savor every moment. He was going to make sure she did the same.
He stood, gathering her into his arms as he did so, and she laughed against his lips as he carried her to her bed. He laid her out across the pillows, remembering the first time he’d done this. The last. Remembering every time he’d ever been so lucky as to touch her.
Then he stepped back and stripped out of his shirt, tossing it over his shoulder. He toed off his boots and removed his trousers. She stared at him, forever reverent when she looked at him like this. Forever anxious if the way she licked her lips was any indication.
He joined her on the bed, sliding one slipper from her foot and letting it fall to the floor. He massaged her foot, pressing a thumb into her arch, and she shivered as she whispered his name. Yet again he’d found some new place to explore, and soon he would not have that option anymore.
He pushed that maudlin thought aside and removed her other shoe, repeating the massaging action. He slid his hands over both her ankles, tugging gently to pull her closer on the bed. He let his fingers play over the fine bones there, memorizing even this tiny detail. He wanted every one.
Her calves were next, encased on white stockings with a blue filigree stitching through them. Could he steal these once he’d made her shake beneath him? Stuff them in his pocket? Touch that fine silky fabric any time he wanted to remember her? He could, but he wouldn’t. That would be torment.
When his hands curved behind her knees, she arched. “Ellis,” she moaned. He laughed, pushing her dress higher as he splayed his fingers across that sensitive place, let his thumbs crest over her knee bones.
She parted her legs and tugged at her dress, lifting it to bunch around her stomach. He groaned and leaned in to press a kiss to her inner thigh. She hissed out pleasure, her fingers coming down to dig into his hair, holding him in place there as she lifted against him to force what she wanted.
Not that she needed to. He had every intention of giving her just that. But first…
He pulled away from her hand and smiled up at the love of his life as she writhed in anticipation and scowled at him in accusation. He said nothing as he untied her garters, rolling her stockings down the same path he’d just traveled and traveling it back a second time. He caught the edge of her drawers and yanked those, bringing the delicate fabric down. She kicked them away, opening wider for him, giving him the prettiest glimpse of her slick sex.
He wanted to glide home in her. Deep as he could go. Come inside of her and mark her forever. He wasn’t going to do that, but oh, the temptation.
Instead, he settled between her legs, pushed her thighs farther and then licked her from the rosette of her bottom to the hard nub of her clitoris. She let out a gasp that all but echoed in the room and then blushed as she clapped a hand over her mouth.
He chuckled and went back to work. She tasted earthy and sweet, his favorite flavor in the world. He never wanted to forget it, so he took his time, teasing and tasting, ni
bbling and stroking. For a while, he didn’t focus on her clitoris, but every other inch of her. But at last her breath was rasping against her fingers and she was snaking her opposite hand between her legs to touch herself as he licked her.
“Always so demanding,” he grunted as he let his tongue join those seeking fingers. Together they stimulated her clitoris, and he loved it. Loved that she was taking what she wanted, demanding what she needed. Loving even more than he could give it to her. He pushed her fingers aside at last with his chin and then he sucked her.
She jolted and began to quake. He repeated the action, once, twice. Steady pressure, suction and a swirl of the tongue, and in a heady rush she came. He tormented her through her release, letting her muffled cries become a symphony as he took and took and took, gave and gave and gave until she pushed him away, her body twitching with powerful aftershocks.
Only then did he climb over her, covering her, reveling in the feel of her softness beneath his hardness. She wrapped her arms around his bare shoulders, drawing him into her kiss, provocative as she licked the remnants of her release from his mouth. He shifted against her and drove home as she cried out against him.
He kept his eyes open, watching her face as he took her. Her head was dipped back, cords of tendons visible along the delicate column as she writhed under his thrusts. He loved how her lower lips trembled, how her fingers pressed into his skin, how her hips lifted to grind against his own.
He increased his pace, loving the tight clench of her pussy around his hard cock. Loving how it sent fireworks of pleasure up his length to explode through his entire body. He was close, but he wanted to feel her grip him one last time in release. He nudged a hand between them, stimulating her clitoris with his fingers as he circled deeper and slower.
She gasped, her fingers digging into his forearms as her gaze met his. He held there, watching her, pouring all his love into her as she began to quake around him, gripping and releasing with a second orgasm. He held out as long as he could, reveling in the feel of her pleasure, but his seed was moving, his balls tight, and at last he pulled out of her with a grunt and came harder than he’d ever come before.
He collapsed down over her, pressing kisses to her mouth, her neck. He would never forget this moment. This last time they were one. The last time she was his.
Juliana reached for Ellis’s hand as they crept through Harcourt’s quiet halls. Something had changed between them, but she was trying not to face that. Trying not to recall the pain that had been mingled with his pleasure as he made love to her. Tried not to recall that as he helped her fix herself as they readied to come downstairs, he had been quiet. Not comfortably, but as if he were at peace with something terrible.
“Ellis,” she whispered.
He smiled at her. “So you never really told me where we’re looking for the code.”
She worried her lip. He was trying to avoid her questions before she even asked them. And his smile wasn’t real anymore. It was tight and false and part of his act.
“The others don’t often discuss anything to do with Leonard in front of me. I suppose they are trying to protect me.” She sighed. “But I did overhear Rook say something to Harcourt about removing the code from his safe and hiding it in a book because of…” She trailed off because she didn’t want to repeat the rest of the sentence.
“Because of me?” Ellis supplied, so she wouldn’t have to.
Her eyes went wide. “How did you know that?”
“Because my cousin knows me very well,” Ellis said, his tone going distant again. “And I know him. He must have guessed I would come searching here eventually, and the safe would be the first place I looked.”
They reached Harcourt’s study and she tried the door. It wouldn’t open. She pivoted. “It’s locked.”
Ellis didn’t look worried. He motioned her aside gently and then bent, retrieving some kind of tool from his boot. He fiddled with the door a moment, and then there was a click and it opened.
Ellis got up with a shake of his head. “That wasn’t even a challenge. Tsk, tsk, cousin.”
He entered the room first, holding her back with his arm as his gaze moved from one side of the room to the other.
“Are you expecting an attack?” she asked softly.
He didn’t look at her but motioned her in and shut the door behind her. “In my world, I’m always expecting an attack,” he said.
She shook her head as she moved to the shelves. “I’m sorry.”
He had gone to the fireplace to raise the light in the room, but now he jerked his head up. “You needn’t be. I’m accustomed to it.”
She wrinkled her brow. “You shouldn’t be. It’s not a way to live your life, never trusting anyone, always believing someone is coming to get you.”
“I trust a few people,” he said, holding her gaze evenly. Then he darted it away. “Now, let’s see. What book would we look for…”
He moved to the shelves across the room from the ones where she stood. For a few moments, they were quiet, glancing at titles. She caught one and pulled it free.
“What about this?” She read from the cover. “Conrad Madison’s Crop Rotation Manual.”
His eyes went wide. “Riveting. Why do you think so?”
“It was pulled out on the shelf a fraction and there isn’t any dust on the top. I can’t picture anyone reading this for fun.”
“Harcourt’s a bit of a bore, though,” Ellis said, coming across the room to stand beside her.
“No one could possibly be this much of a bore,” she laughed as she opened the book and gave it a shake in the hopes what they were searching for would flutter from the pages. When nothing did, she twisted her mouth in defeat.
He patted her arm. “Try, try again,” he sing-songed as he went back to his shelf. “Though the lack of dust on the books is a good way to track, I think I will take a different tactic. My cousin was likely involved in hiding the code, so I have to believe he would have a heavy hand in the choices.” He rubbed his chin. “Let’s think about favorite authors.”
“Hm, Anne is a fan of Byron.”
Ellis pulled a face. “Met him once. Not an admirer.”
Her mouth dropped open and then she laughed. “Are you sure you aren’t just jealous that his skills at love games rival your own?”
He winked at her. “Perhaps. Look for Byron then. It’s possible Rook had your sister’s desires in mind. And what about Thomasina? Where would Harcourt hide something with her reading habits in mind?”
“She is more interested in Walter Scott,” Juliana said. “And I saw a collection of his works on this shelf.”
She pulled a handful of books from the shelf and began to skim through them, looking for the paper Ellis so desperately wanted. When she found nothing, she turned to find him shaking out a few books from his shelf, the Byrons, she assumed.
Their eyes met and she could see that as playful as he was being, he was frustrated and upset at not finding what he sought. There was desperation to his intent now. And that scared her.
“What else?” she said. “Shakespeare is always loved.”
“By all. It might be a law of the empire,” he said. “Where would that be?”
She circled the shelves, letting her fingertip glide over the spines of the books. And finally she found the collection. It filled three shelves and there were multiple editions of each play.
“Here!” she said. “Will you help?”
He rushed to her side and together they pulled the books down. Carefully they flipped through them, standing so close that their shoulders touched. She glanced at him with a soft smile. “You do not like Byron, but are you a reader of the Bard?”
“Indeed,” Ellis said. “I learned to read when Rook introduced me to Shakespeare.”
“Which play?” she asked as she pivoted to face him.
“Much Ado About Nothing,” he admitted.
She clapped her hands together. “My favorite, as well.”
; They stared at each other for a moment, and then they both dove into the pile of books on the table before them.
“Much Ado!” she called out as she held up a version with a well-worn spine and cover.
He held up a finer copy, this one with gold filigree. “I hate to compliment the man on taste, but Harcourt must be a devotee as well, since he has two copies.”
She shook her head. “You two might actually like each other when this is finished.”
He said nothing, but she felt him stiffen at her side. They each opened their copy of the play. He finished first and let out a groan that showed his frustration. She was about to give up as well and decided to flip through the pages once more. And there, hidden in the pages of act one, was a folded sheet of paper.
“Ellis,” she breathed as she removed it with shaking fingers and handed it over. He took it but continued to stare at the page where it had been lodged.
“Don John’s speech in Act One,” he whispered. “Let me be that I am, and seek not to alter me.”
His pain lined his face as he said the famous line, and her heart broke for all he concealed beneath that mask of casual frivolity and disregard. She knew better now.
“It is the first thing I memorized from the work,” he explained. “Rook and I used to tease each other with that line. And he…he put the code here.”
She nodded. “You were in his thoughts, I suppose, when he did it. Accepting you was in his thoughts.”
He shook his head. “He ought not accept me. I don’t deserve it.”
“Ellis—” she began, but he held up a hand to silence her as he moved to the desk. He sat down, hunched by the candle and looked at the coded lines of letters. Gibberish, as far as she could tell.
“Anagrams,” he breathed. “No wonder Rook struggled. His strategic mind could never unravel them—he despised them.”
She moved to stand behind him and looked at the jumbled words. “I can see a half dozen words in the mix, but how to know which ones are correct?”
A Counterfeit Courtesan Page 20