Cobra 01 The Untamed Bride

by Stephanie Laurens

  Some part of him squirmed, literally squirmed at the thought that she—and the other ladies—saw through him so easily. But he forced himself to nod, albeit curtly. “Yes.”

  She smiled. “In that case, all else they said on that subject is presumably correct, too.” She pulled the scarves taut between her hands.

  He suddenly felt exceedingly wary. “What else did they say?”

  “Actually, it was Minerva who recommended the…procedure. As you might imagine, we spent some time after dinner discussing what recompense would be most appropriate to demand for your high-handedness in tying us all to our beds. A piece of male arrogance that, as you might expect, we were not, individually or collectively, inclined to let pass unanswered. Unremarked on. Unpaid for.”

  He was perfectly sure he didn’t want to know the answer, but had to ask, “What is this procedure?”

  “It’s very simple.” Her smile was the epitome of feminine triumph. “It’s along the lines of, ‘What’s sauce for the goose is also sauce for the gander.’”

  “Ah.” He looked down at the scarves she kept tugging taut between her hands. “I…see.”

  “I’m told it works best if you first remove your boots and stockings, coat, waistcoat and cravat.” Stepping back, she gestured with a wave to the bed. “So if you will?”

  He eyed the bed, glanced briefly her way, then relucantly shrugged out of his coat. Laying it aside, he set his fingers to the buttons of his waistcoat, rapidly assessing her tack, her options, the likely outcome.

  It wasn’t all bad.

  Dispensing with his waistcoat, he caught her eye. “Just promise me one thing—you won’t leave me tied naked to your bed in the morning.”

  She laughed, a distinctly sultry sound. “We’ll have to see how well you perform in fulfilling your penance.” She turned to survey the bed, as if measuring him lying upon it. Then she walked toward it. “Just console yourself with the thought that every man who sinned is paying the same price.”

  “They are?”

  “Well, of course.”

  That cast the matter in a completely different light. Del inwardly grinned, wondering what comments he, Devil, and the others would be sharing tomorrow morning.

  Tossing his cravat aside, he followed her to the bed, where she was lacing the scarves through the ornate headboard, just as he had that morning.

  She straightened and turned as he neared.

  He caught her in one arm, bent his head and kissed her soundly.

  Lifting his head, he looked into her jade eyes, already hazed with rising passion. “I’ll do anything you ask of me—anything and everything—just as long as, come the morning, you’ll still be mine.”

  She looked into his eyes, studied them, then smiled. “Always.” Her smile deepened. She raised a hand, laid her palm to his cheek. “Always and forever.”

  A heartbeat passed, then she lightly patted his cheek. “Now get on the bed.”

  He did, and gave himself up to her torment.

  To giving his all, and accepting hers in return.

  The night rolled on as passion roiled about them, as desire surged, then, sated, waned. Only to wax anew, and take them again.

  They found new ways to use the scarves, experimented and laughed, then fell silent as desire and joy twined again, crested again, wracked them again.

  At the end they lay entwined, his arms around her, their legs tangled, and traded whispers and hopes, thoughts and ideas of what their joint life would be like once the Black Cobra was brought down.

  Ultimately, sleep crept in on quiet wings and enfolded them.

  Deliah’s last thought was that for her part in Del’s mission she’d gained a reward far greater than she ever would have—ever could have—imagined. She’d gained the love of an honorable, courageous, handsome, and passionate gentleman—something she’d been so often told, and had for so long believed, she could never have.

  He was with her now, hers now, and she was his forevermore.

  She closed her eyes, hugged that glorious truth close, and let sleep claim her.

  Del listened to her breathing slow, felt her warmth filling his arms, and knew he’d already gained the greatest reward he could possibly expect from this mission. He’d defined and secured his future—their future.

  It lay waiting for them, just ahead on their road, a shared life in which she would be his—his wife, his lover, his helpmate, his heart—while he would be hers, her husband, her protector.

  Even if he had to pay a penance every time he exercised the latter right.

  His lips curved as sleep tugged him down. He surrendered as one last thought slid through his mind.

  Home.

  He was finally there.

  Home for him lay in Deliah’s arms.

  December 19

  Bury St. Edmunds, Suffolk

  In the darkest hour of the long night, Roderick Ferrar strode up to the back door of the house in Bury St. Edmunds that the cult had made its own.

  The door opened before he reached it. He strode in, fighting to keep the shivers that racked him at bay. He went straight through the house to the drawing room, barely noticing the silks now draping the walls, the incense permeating the air, the servants and cultists who bowed low as he passed.

  Alex and Daniel were waiting, playing cards at a small table set between two armchairs angled before the hearth. They looked up as he entered. Stiffly, he walked to the hearth, and bent to warm his icy hands at the blaze.

  One look at Roderick’s face, and all expression leached from Alex’s. “You’re exceedingly late. What happened?”

  Roderick straightened, drew a tight breath, then faced them. “It was a trap. They turned Larkins’s brilliant plan into a trap, and Larkins walked right into it.”

  Alex blinked, slowly. “Where is Larkins?”

  Roderick snorted. Gripped the mantelpiece. “He’s dead. He’d been seen by a bevy of them—St. Ives was there, for heaven’s sake! And Chillingworth. And a host of others of that ilk—including Delborough, of course. They all saw Larkins take the scroll-holder, open it, read the letter, then pocket it—then, of course, he moved to silence the boy. That’s when they showed themselves. There were a dozen of them, maybe more. I didn’t wait to count. I had to get to Larkins, had to kill him. They had more than enough testimony to take him up, to prove he was after the letter with my seal. And once they had him—”

  “He would have given us up to save his miserable hide.” Daniel nodded. “I take it you managed to eliminate Larkins without being seen yourself?”

  Roderick wiped a hand over his mouth. “Just. It was a near-run thing, but I got clean away.” He looked at Alex. “That’s why I’m so late. I stopped in Newmarket—in a tavern—to make sure I wasn’t followed.”

  “Sound thinking.” Alex leaned back in the armchair.

  Roderick started to pace before the fire. “This is unbelievably irritating. Where the hell am I to find someone to re place Larkins? Someone who understands our needs, knows how the cult operates, is willing and able to do what’s required, and above all, given these damned couriers and our present need, is an Englishman?”

  The other two exchanged a glance, but neither leapt to answer.

  Eventually, Daniel murmured, “Larkins did have his uses.”

  “I didn’t want to kill him.” Roderick ran a hand through his hair. “Lord knows, he’s been with me for decades.”

  “You did the right thing,” Alex reassured him, in a voice of infinite, collected calm. “If he’d been taken up, as inevitably he would have been—impossible to hide him forever—he would have given you, and us, up. There’s no doubt of that. You would have been a fool to wager your neck on his loyalty. You had to act as you did.”

  Alex’s words had the desired effect. Roderick calmed, grew less agitated.

  “There’s too much at stake in this game,” Daniel said. “We have to play to win.”

  “Indeed, “Alex concurred. “Those who are weak enoug
h to get caught…have to be eliminated.”

  Neither Roderick nor Daniel argued.

  After a pause, Alex continued, “You mentioned Delborough’s scroll-holder. What happened to it?”

  “Larkins’s last useful act. He had it when he met me.” Roderick felt in the pockets of the greatcoat he still wore, pulled out the scroll-holder, and handed it to Alex. “I checked. It’s a copy, not the original.”

  Alex’s lips twisted wryly. “So I was right. Delborough was a decoy.”

  “Your prescience is not much use after the fact,” Roderick said. “But at least we now know why Delborough went to Somersham Place. What better reinforcements than a whole troop of Cynsters?”

  Daniel shrugged. “So they rattle their sabers around these parts. We’ll just make sure all the action henceforth takes place far from here.”

  “Exactly.” Alex looked at Roderick. “So where is Hamilton?”

  Roderick gave a brief report. “So in the matter of the major, we’ve done all we can—put everything in place—that we can to this point. But Hamilton and Miss Ensworth are already at Chelmsford. They appear to be heading this way.” He glanced at Alex and Daniel. “The question is, are they heading to Somersham Place as well, or somewhere else?”

  “It’s possible, of course, that they’re heading to Somersham.” There was a frown etched on Alex’s face. “I just wish we’d known about the damned Cynsters in time to act earlier, at least to keep Hamilton from getting this close.”

  “Too late for that now,” Daniel observed. “He’s virtually on our doorstep.”

  “True,” Alex allowed. “But what worries me more is these others our puppetmaster has drawn into this fight. We’re not, as we thought we would be, facing only the colonel and his three friends. We’ve the Cynsters getting in our way up here, and bodyguards escorting our pigeons from the moment they land. Delborough had two, and now you say Hamilton has another two—a different two—who were waiting for him when he landed.”

  Head slowly shaking, Alex met Roderick’s, then Daniel’s eyes. “This is all too expertly organized. We’re facing an enemy more able than we’d thought, and being forced to fight on a front far wider than we’d anticipated.”

  When Alex fell silent, Daniel prompted, “So?”

  Alex pulled a face. “I just wish I knew who was behind this. It’s much easier to triumph over an enemy if you know who that enemy is. How else can you learn his weaknesses?”

  Neither of the other two answered.

  Roderick shifted his weight. “What we do know is that, whoever he is, he poses a very real danger to us—or will if the original letter gets through to him.”

  Alex examined the scroll-holder Larkins had died for. “The usual contraption.” The cult used similar devices to transport sensitive communications.

  With quick flicks, Alex manipulated the levers, unlocked the scroll-holder, opened it, and drew out the single sheet of parchment it held.

  Daniel looked at Roderick. “While our men are taking Hamilton down, we should put more effort into identifying who our puppetmaster is. Chances are it’s someone with links both to the Cynsters and to these other men—the ones acting as bodyguards. What do you know of them? Are they from some arm of the services, or…?”

  “At this point,” Roderick said, “I don’t even know who they are.”

  While Daniel and Roderick discussed ways and means to identify their unexpected opponents, Alex unrolled the letter and, after checking—just to make sure—that it was indeed a copy with no incriminating seal, idly scanned the contents.

  The rumble of the others’ voices filled the night’s silence. Alex’s eyes traveled the sheet, then halted.

  Neither Alex nor Daniel had previously seen the letter. Neither had had any idea of its full contents.

  A long moment passed. Alex’s eyes remained locked on the letter, on a single line. Roderick and Daniel continued to talk.

  Abruptly, Alex looked up. “You used my name.”

  The words resonated with accusation and incipient black fury.

  Roderick looked at Alex, frowned. “Of course I mentioned you. If you recall, I was trying to persuade that bastard, Govind Holkar, to commit more deeply—men and money. We’d discussed mentioning you visiting Poona as an incentive—you knew I’d be mentioning it.”

  “That’s not what I mean.” Alex bit off each word, gaze boring into Roderick. “You used my real name.”

  Both Roderick and Daniel blinked. Then both froze.

  In a movement redolent with rage, eyes narrowed to glittering shards, Alex tossed the letter on the table. “And just what do you think, brother-mine, will happen if our dear father is shown this letter? Even a copy of this letter?” The words were vicious, lashing, scathing as Alex’s voice rose. “You don’t think, perhaps, that he might be tempted to throw me and Daniel to the wolves to save you? To save the honor of his house?” Eyes blazing, Alex pushed upright. “Of course he will!”

  Alex shouldered past Roderick and fell to pacing, a great deal more violently than Roderick had.

  Daniel reached for the letter. It took him only a moment to find the relevant line. Lips tightening, he tossed the letter back on the table. Sitting back, he caught Roderick’s eye. “My name, too, brother-mine. And just when were you going to remember to tell us?”

  “I didn’t know—I swear I didn’t know.” Pale, looking suddenly ill, Roderick raked a hand through his hair. He glanced at Alex, who shot him a murderous look, then he hauled in a huge breath. “We don’t need this. We need to concentrate. I was in a rush when I wrote the damned thing—remember? I didn’t even register that I’d used your real names.”

  “Make no mistake,” Alex scoffed. “Our father will register that, if he’s ever shown it.”

  “So we make sure he never sees the damned thing.” Roderick swung to Daniel, who was leaning back in his armchair, his face a mask. “We’ll intercept all the letters—the copies as well as the original. Chances were we would have had to do that anyway in order to seize the original.”

  Roderick glanced at Alex, still pacing viciously, then looked back at Daniel. “So—Hamilton’s next.” Roderick stole another glance at Alex. “What are we going to do about him?”

  “Not we. You!” Swinging around, Alex pointed a finger at Roderick. “You asked before where you might find a man to replace Larkins. His replacement, Roderick, is you!” Another jab of Alex’s finger emphasized the word. “You take on Larkins’s role, and you get those damned letters back—every copy, every last one!”

  Roderick’s eyes narrowed to shards of blue ice. “All right.” Face set, he nodded. “I will.”

  Dear Reader,

  I am delighted to introduce you to the first book in my thrilling new project, The Black Cobra Quartet. The concept evolved from wondering what happened to the soldiers who fought alongside the Cynster cousins in their cavalry troop at Waterloo. The answer is:

  Five of them went to India to serve with the army of the East India Company under the direct command of the Governor-General of India, who in 1822, gives all five a mission: do whatever it takes to bring a fiendish villain, the Black Cobra, to justice.

  One of the five gives his life to secure the vital evidence. The other four swear to avenge him by getting that evidence back to England and into the hands of Royce Varisey, now Duke of Wolverstone, the one man powerful enough to bring down the Black Cobra.

  You didn’t think you’d heard the last of Royce and the members of the Bastion Club—or their wives—did you? And, of course, our four latest heroes appeal to their old comrades-in-arms, the Cynster cousins, for assistance, too. The result is four action-packed adventures ranging from Bombay to Norfolk, filled with danger, passion, and intrigue, with an exciting cast of fresh new characters walking onto a stage peopled by many you already know.

  The Prelude begins in India, after which our four heroes part, three carrying decoys and one the vital original evidence back to Royce in England by four very di
fferent routes. Each book in the quartet tells the tale of one journey—and of the lady and the love each hero discovers along the way.

  Each of our heroes is due to reach England in the days leading up to Christmas, 1822. Join me in following them through the perils and pleasures of their journeys, which culminate in a wonderful joint Christmas you won’t want to miss.

  So read on and let the Prelude take you to India in 1822, and then sit back and enjoy the journey of Colonel Derek Delborough in The Untamed Bride.

  Happy reading!

  Stephanie Laurens

  About the Author

  New York Times bestselling author STEPHANIE LAURENS began writing as an escape from the dry world of professional science, a hobby that quickly became a career. Her novels set in Regency England have captivated readers around the globe, making her one of the romance world’s most beloved and popular authors. The Untamed Bride is her fortieth work, and the first in The Black Cobra Quartet.

  Readers can contact Stephanie via e-mail at slaurens@vicnet.net.au.

  For information on all Stephanie’s books, including updates on novels yet to come, visit Stephanie’s website at www.stephanielaurens.com.

  Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author.

  By Stephanie Laurens

  THE UNTAMED BRIDE

  Coming Soon

  THE ELUSIVE BRIDE

  Bastion Club Novels

  MASTERED BY LOVE • THE EDGE OF DESIRE

  BEYOND SEDUCTION • TO DISTRACTION

  A FINE PASSION • A LADY OF HIS OWN

  A GENTLEMAN’S HONOR • THE LADY CHOSEN

  CAPTAIN JACK’S WOMAN

  Cynster Novels

  TEMPTATION AND SURRENDER • WHERE THE HEART LEADS

  THE TASTE OF INNOCENCE • WHAT PRICE LOVE?

  THE TRUTH ABOUT LOVE • THE IDEAL BRIDE