The Secrets He Keeps: A Peril & Persuasion Novella

by Amy Sandas

  “I got the impression my attendance wasn’t optional,” she replied dryly.

  Her brother flashed a wide grin. “It wasn’t. But I’m still glad you made it.” He leaned forward to mutter quietly, “It won’t be as dreadful as you’re thinking.” Then he straightened and jerked his thumb in Erik’s direction without bothering to look at him. “Who’s this?”

  The gesture told Erik a few things about the man; he had genuine affection for his sister and that included a protective streak that she either ignored or tolerated. And he was even more brash and crude than she ever allowed herself to be.

  Pendragon slid him a sly glance from narrowed eyes. The corner of her mouth twisted upward as she replied, “This is Mr. Erik Maxwell. He owns a new gentleman’s club in town and he’s trying to seduce me.”

  Her brother gave rough snort as he flicked his glance to Erik. “Good luck with that, mate.” The tone clearly indicated he expected abject failure, but he extended his hand and gave a firm handshake. “Mason Hale. Welcome.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Hale. I apologize for the intrusion.”

  Hale gave a shrug while a female voice spoke from behind him. “Not at all, Mr. Maxwell. We are quite happy to have you.” A young woman with dark auburn hair and even darker brown eyes stepped around Hale’s great form to offer a polite smile. Though she was nearly dwarfed by the man beside her, she possessed a quietly fierce presence that suggested she could hold her own against far more intimidating adversaries.

  “My wife,” Hale stated in a hard tone of warning as he slipped his arm around her slim waist. “Lady Katherine Hale.”

  Erik gave a proper bow. “A pleasure, my lady.”

  After giving a nod of acknowledgement, the young lady of the house turned her attention to Pendragon and stated with genuine feeling, “Thank you so much for joining us. The children will be down shortly. They were very much looking forward to your visit.”

  Looking back to Erik, she added with an arched brow, “I hope you have no aversion to the company of children, Mr. Maxwell.”

  “Of course not,” he replied readily.

  “Excellent. You’ll likely discover our family prefers not to follow all the strict rules of social engagement.”

  “An understatement, luv,” Hale muttered gruffly before pressing a kiss to his wife’s temple. “You married me, after all.”

  The lady tossed him a glance of stern reprimand though her lips twitched with humor. Then she turned to gesture toward a seating arrangement placed before the room’s enormous fireplace. “Please make yourselves comfortable.”

  “A drink, Lissy?” Hale asked as he started toward a liquor service in the corner.

  Erik was surprised by her allowance of the nickname. He suspected that if Mr. Hale was subtly protective of his sister, then she was just as subtly indulgent of him.

  “Claret, if you please.”

  “I’ll have one, as well,” Lady Katherine said as she led the way and took a graceful position in one of the tall wingback chairs.

  “Maxwell?”

  “The same. Thank you.”

  In an obviously contrary move, Pendragon claimed the other wingback chair in a flourish of her scarlet skirts, leaving the small settee for the men. Erik almost chuckled but managed to hold it in as he took a seat on one end of the narrow sofa. Leaning back, he crossed one ankle over the opposite knee. If the madam’s intention was to make him uncomfortable, she’d have her work cut out for her. If his childhood performing in front of endless crowds taught him anything, it was how to avoid becoming distressed in even the most awkward circumstances.

  Hale brought the ladies their wine first, then returned with a glass for Erik. It appeared he hadn’t poured anything for himself. When he saw what the women had done, he made a low sound of displeasure. Sending his sister a swift glare, he took up a spot standing beside the fireplace, where the heat rolling from the roaring flames would likely soon grow unbearable.

  Pendragon smirked in self-satisfaction as she sipped from her crystal wineglass.

  “Are you only recently of London, Mr. Maxwell?” Lady Katherine asked.

  He met the young woman’s directly questioning gaze and noted that, although she wasn’t as boldly beautiful as Madam Pendragon, there was a distinct loveliness in her dark eyes and fine features. “Yes, I arrived in England less than a year ago.”

  “And where were you before that?”

  Her interest obviously derived from pure curiosity rather than a desire to pry, but Erik had to think on it for a moment. The extensive nature of his past travels tended to make the details blur together after a while. “I believe I was in Istanbul just prior to coming to London.”

  Lady Katherine’s dark brows lifted in interest. “Really? Have you traveled to a great many places?”

  Erik smiled. “More than I’ve time to name tonight, my lady.”

  “How fascinating. I’ve only ever been to Lincolnshire, where I grew up, and now London. I’d love to travel someday.”

  “We will, luv,” Hale asserted firmly. “Once everything is settled. Promise.”

  His wife responded with a smile that reflected her complete and utter confidence in his words. Erik glanced to Pendragon, wondering if she saw the depth of faith and devotion between her brother and his wife. The Hales’ marriage appeared to be a perfect example of what she claimed didn’t exist.

  Likely sensing his regard, she looked back at him. Her green eyes flashed with quiet frustration. When he tilted his head in silent question, she quickly averted her eyes and took another sip of her wine.

  “Ah, here they are,” Lady Katherine noted with a smile as she rose to her feet.

  Erik stood as well and turned toward the doorway to see a dark-haired boy of twelve or thirteen holding the hand of a small girl with soft blonde curls who could be no more than three years old. The girl looked a bit shy as her blue eyes darted between Pendragon and Erik before settling on Hale.

  “Come here, sweet pea,” the big man said in a soft tone.

  The girl immediately dashed forward to be swept up in Hale’s arms.

  “Frederick,” Lady Katherine said as she gestured for the boy to come forward. “I’d like you to meet Mr. Maxwell. He is an associate of Miss Hale.” Lifting her gaze to Erik, she continued, “Mr. Maxwell, this is my brother, the Duke of Northmoor.”

  After executing a bow appropriate for the boy’s rank, Erik replied, “A pleasure to meet you, Your Grace.”

  With a surprisingly stoic expression for one so young and a sharply intelligent gaze, the young duke nodded. “And you, Mr. Maxwell. It is always nice to be introduced to new friends.” Turning to Pendragon, he added, “I’m very happy to see you again, Miss Hale. Your visits always bring a welcome bit of excitement to the house.”

  Her smile was slightly teasing as she replied, “Then I shall do my best to come by more often.”

  “I think Claire would like that, as well,” Hale interjected as he stepped forward with the little girl still held high in his thick arms. “Wouldn’t you like to see Aunt Lissy more often, sweet pea?”

  The little girl smiled sweetly and she nodded her head, causing her pale curls to bounce about her cheeks.

  “See?” Hale stated emphatically as he gave his sister a smirking look.

  She responded with a roll of her eyes.

  Turning to Erik, Hale added, “And this is Aunt Lissy’s friend, Mr. Maxwell.”

  Erik tilted his head toward the girl and offered a gentle smile. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Claire.”

  After blushing prettily, she murmured softly, “Merry Christmas.”

  “And Merry Christmas to you.”

  “Well done, sweet pea,” Hale whispered to the child as he set her down. The little girl went immediately to Lady Katherine, who scooped her up and placed her in her lap as she regained her seat.

  Hale returned to his spot by the fireplace and the young duke took a seat on the settee next to Erik.

  They continued to e
xchange small talk for a while. Lady Katherine questioned him a little further on his favorite places while Hale seemed intent on irritating his older sister. For her part, Pendragon appeared mostly relaxed, if a bit more restrained than he’d grown accustomed to seeing her. Likely, she was making an effort to hold back some of her more biting replies to her brother for the sake of the children. It became clear that Hale was fully aware of his sister’s predicament and used it against her. She managed to say quite a lot, however, with her searing gaze, which only appeared to amuse Hale all the more.

  At one point, while the children were busy on the other side of the room, admiring the snow falling outside the large bay window, her frustration finally got the better of her.

  “Really, Mason, must you insist on calling me that dreadful nickname. I haven’t been Lissy since you were a little brat who couldn’t say my name properly.”

  Her brother simply grinned wide and teasing. “Sorry, sis. You’ll always be Lissy to me.”

  Pendragon glanced to Lady Katherine. “How the hell do you put up with him?”

  The lady arched her brow and slid the man under discussion a look that sparked with intimate heat before replying in a perfectly flat tone, “He’s proven to have his uses.”

  Hale snorted a rough laugh, while Pendragon rose to her feet and smoothed the wrinkles from her gown. “Well, he certainly doesn’t have much to offer in his head.”

  “Depends which you’re referencing,” Hale retorted crudely.

  His sister responded with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “If you’ll excuse me. I’m in need of a brief respite from all this family accord.”

  As she swept from the room, Lady Katherine turned a harsh eye to her husband. “Do you always have to be so irritating? That’s probably why she doesn’t come by more often.”

  “You know that’s not why and, yes, I do. My sister requires regular reminders that she belongs to a world that extends beyond the house off St. James.” Turning to Erik, he added, “I’d guess Maxwell here knows what I mean.”

  He did but he knew better than to enter the fray.

  “Could you at least try to make these rare visits more pleasant and enjoyable?” Lady Katherine pressed.

  Hale shrugged, unconcerned. “If they were pleasant, she’d hate them even more.”

  Erik rose to his feet. “Please, excuse me.” Leaving the couple to continue their argument without his audience, he left the drawing room and looked about the awe-inspiring entry hall. After a moment, he noticed a faint light visible beneath a door at the far end of the hall.

  Walking quietly across the parquet floor, he opened the door without knocking.

  Pendragon stood at the far end of the room, pouring herself a drink from a discreet liquor service. The room appeared to be a personal study containing a desk, some chairs, and a small sofa. As Erik approached, she glanced up with a visible frown before putting the stopper in the liquor bottle and lifting her glass to down its contents in one smooth swallow.

  “Perhaps you missed my cue, Mr. Maxwell. I left the room to be alone.”

  Erik paused. “I do not wish to intrude. I just wanted to give your brother and his wife a few moments to finish a private conversation.”

  She smirked as she set her glass down and turned to face him while leaning back against the table behind her. “I assume they were arguing again. Those two have absolutely nothing in common. I cannot imagine why they thought it would be a good idea to marry.”

  Lifting a brow in genuine surprise, Erik continued forward until he stood directly in front of her. Close enough that her crimson skirts were stirred by his polished black boots. “Nothing in common?” He tilted his head to search her green eyes. Lowering his voice, he asked, “Surely you see the mutual respect and genuine admiration they have for each other. They are very different people with radically different backgrounds, I am sure. But they clearly appreciate those differences. I suspect they enjoy a deep abiding love.”

  Her eyes widened with mocking shock. “My God, you are utterly relentless and totally delusional.”

  He laughed. The woman fought hard to retain her skepticism. “If you did not see those things, surely you were able to detect the passion simmering between them.”

  “Passion is not love,” she retorted curtly. “The hotter it burns, the faster it dies.”

  “When valued and properly nurtured, passion can richen and deepen with time.”

  “Passion is lust and lust weakens as soon as it’s indulged.”

  Erik’s gaze fell to her lips—reddened and lush. “Shall we test that theory?”

  Boldly, irreverently, she tilted her head back and met his gaze with a challenging stare as she twisted her beautiful lips into an expression of sensual superiority. “Do your worst, Maxwell.”

  He could see in her eyes she expected to be disappointed. He couldn’t allow that.

  Stepping closer, he bracketed her feet with his, allowing his thighs to rest warmly against hers. Then he lifted a hand to her throat, caging the lengthened column with his fingers. The green of her eyes flashed brightly and her lips parted to allow a swift, subtle exhale. But beyond that, she did not react. He took a moment to meet her gaze, looking into her eyes with heavy intention, showing her what he wanted. Revealing the dark hunger in his soul and the secret yearning beneath the shadows.

  As her eyes narrowed, shielding the flash of light he saw in their depths, he lowered his head and took her mouth in an instantly possessive kiss. The lush cushion of her lips—the spicy and unexpectedly sweet, heady taste of her—nearly distracted him from his purpose. Full, brutal honesty. Still holding her gaze, his hand remained secure around her throat as he swept his tongue past her teeth.

  She answered the invasion with a short flick of her tongue against his. It was taunting and insolent. A reminder that she was no common conquest.

  What she failed to accept was that Erik had never seen her as such. She was perfection in form. To him, she had already surpassed every prior lover he’d ever known. And there had been many...more, perhaps, than she even realized. At this moment, he only wanted her to know how deeply he wanted her and how badly he wished to please her.

  He gave another long lick of his tongue within her mouth. It was wet and thick and unabashedly erotic and he was rewarded with a slight flutter of her sooty lashes and the darkening of her gaze.

  Tilting his head, he fit his mouth more securely to hers. Gliding his tongue in and out until she responded with a languid swirl of her tongue past his lips. Taking advantage, he suckled her tongue, drawing it deeper into his mouth before releasing it. As her eyes finally fell closed, he nearly moaned but subdued the sense of triumph he felt at her subtle, momentary surrender. She was not a woman to remain submissive for long. He’d need every bit of his skill to show her why they shouldn’t stop with a kiss.

  He gave a brief and gentle squeeze of his hand at her throat, before sliding his fingers down over her collarbone, between her pushed-up breasts, to the inward curve of her waist. Grasping her in both hands, he brought her up against him—body to body—a stunning fit.

  She seemed to agree as she brought her arms up around his neck and finally—fully—gave herself over to the kiss. Lips, tongue, teeth, breath. Swirling, tasting, licking, biting. It was passion and fire—a willful, intentional destruction, but he lost track of who was destroying whom as they went up in flames together.

  Reminding himself of the need for patience in the midst of mindless desire, Erik finally pulled back, lifting his head enough to press a final kiss to the corner of her lush mouth.

  A feeling unlike any he’d experienced before spread through him then as he slid his gaze over her features, noting the kohl-rimmed eyes, the fine cheekbones, and the way her lush, sensitive mouth curved just slightly downward at the corners. The sensation was bright and heady and wonderfully consuming.

  As her eyes swept open, he felt a deep reluctance to let her go, even for the time being. A part of him feared she would
n’t let him this close again.

  “We should return to our hosts,” he said in a roughened voice.

  She gave a short sound of derision. “Should we?”

  He smiled at her show of scorn. “Though you sound put out, I suspect you fully enjoy their company. Even the children.”

  Pulling back from him, she smoothed her hands over her gown before replying, “One kiss and you presume to know what I enjoy.”

  Stepping closer to her, reclaiming the distance she’d placed between them, he replied in a heavy tone, “Your pleasure has become a part of me, madam. I cannot separate it from my own.”

  Though she arched her brow in a show of disdain, her pulse fluttered at the side of her throat and her gaze slipped briefly to his mouth before she replied coolly, “I hope that doesn’t prove too painful for you.” Then she swept past him and left the room.

  The damned woman was forever walking away from him.

  It was his greatest desire to change that.

  Chapter Seven

  Dinner was called shortly after their return to the party and they all moved into the dining room. It was a formal, imposing space with a grand table that could easily seat a dozen or more. More richly scented evergreen formed a simple but festive centerpiece. The winter greenery was accented with red ribbons, glossy apples, and bright oranges.

  The children remained with them through dinner. Having Frederick and Claire at the table assisted in lightening and enlivening the tone of the evening, giving it a casual feel despite the obvious care that had gone into the exceptional meal consisting of various roasted meats, seasoned vegetables, mincemeat pies, steamy sweet breads, and Christmas puddings soaked in brandy.

  The young Duke of Northmoor was exceptionally intelligent and well-versed in various topics of conversation. He contributed to the adult conversation with as much ease and seriousness as he used when he spoke quietly with young Claire. At one point, Lady Katherine explained that the two of them had grown up under rather unusual circumstances. Their mother had died when they were young and their father had been intensely devoted to his work in the field of herbalism and pharmacology, leaving his children to form their own educations and far from the influence most often forced upon aristocratic children to meet a certain molded expectation.