Wicked Surrender (Regency Sinners 2)

by Carole Mortimer

  Dante eyed her mockingly. “It is not the first time a lady has said that to me either.”

  “It will most certainly not be the last!”

  He gave an acknowledging inclination of his head. “How well do you know the Monroes?”

  “The Monroes…” Bella was having trouble keeping up with this jumping about from subject to subject. “What relevance do they have to any of this?”

  Dante shrugged. “If they are your contacts, then they will also need to be arrested.”

  “You intend to have me arrested?” She felt hollow, numbed by Dante’s duplicity.

  His eyes were cold. “If you are guilty, yes.”

  This had become an undreamed-of nightmare to Bella. Something so unexpected, so unbelievable, she could hardly comprehend it was happening.

  She gave a dazed shake of her head. “I do not know the Monroes at all. I believe this morning was the first time I have ever said more than a few polite words to them.”

  “Nevertheless, your contact with them has necessitated my sending word to my associate in London for the Monroes to be apprehended and questioned.”

  “How…?”

  He shrugged. “I engaged the service of one of Mr. Rogers’s grooms. He left early this morning, and should already have reached London and relayed my message.”

  The ice about Bella’s heart was starting to melt and be replaced by her earlier fury. “Then I suggest you also send word to your Prince Regent that I am not, nor have I ever been, a spy for Napoleon. That I would never contemplate helping a man whose quest for power was ultimately responsible for the death of my father and my husband. The Prince Regent, being the man that he is, might also enjoy knowing I was gullible enough to suck your cock on the journey here!” She turned on her heel, tears blinding her as she all but ran up the stairs.

  How dare he?

  How dare he!

  How dare they?

  Bella had no idea who that third party might be, but as far as she was concerned, the Prince Regent and the Duke of Huntley could both go to hell.

  Dante stood alone downstairs, exactly where Bella had left him, for once in his life unsure how to proceed. One thing he did know was his erection had begun to wilt at the onset of this conversation with Bella, and it had now deflated completely. Which was perhaps as well, because, as he had suspected, Bella’s anger and disgust toward him assured there would be no more lovemaking between the two of them today. In all probability, ever again.

  He had known this would not end well. It was the very reason he had gone to see Nik four nights ago and tried to remove himself from this situation. The last thing he wanted was for Bella to hate him.

  Too late.

  His expression was grim as he now crossed the room to the tray of drinks on the side cabinet, pouring three fingers of brandy into a glass before downing it all in two swallows. He drew his breath in sharply even as he welcomed the burning sensation down the length of his throat, followed by that heat exploding in his stomach. He poured himself a second glass. He might as well get roaring drunk, because he very much doubted he would even see Bella again this evening.

  It was fully dark when Bella woke, her eyes feeling gritty and sore from where she had cried herself to sleep several hours ago. She had not thought to light a fire earlier, and the bedchamber felt a little chilled. But no more so than Bella’s heart.

  Dante believed her to be a traitor to her adopted country.

  The Prince Regent and another unnamed man who was a spymaster for the Crown also suspected her of treason.

  Fresh tears stung her eyes and fell soundlessly down her cheeks.

  Living in France until she was nine years old was a distant memory, as was the family she still had there, an aunt and uncle, and several cousins older than herself. She and her mother had left France all those years ago because of the unrest caused by Napoleon and his army. They had totally embraced their adopted country once they arrived in England, her mother’s eventual marriage to a marquis securing them both a place in England’s aristocracy. Bella’s own marriage to Lord Jeremy Aston six years ago had confirmed that place.

  Perhaps that was the—what was it called when… Ah yes, modus operandi. Perhaps integrating and becoming a part of England’s aristocracy was the modus operandi of all French spies?

  Perhaps, but to now know she was suspected of being one, not just by Dante but also the highest authority in the land, was hurtful in the extreme.

  Although it had not succeeded in robbing her of her appetite, she recognized self-disgustedly as her stomach now gave a low growl. She had no idea what the time was, but her early breakfast this morning seemed a very long time ago.

  Bella lay on the bed and listened to the sounds of the house. She could hear the creaking and settling of the floorboards and the timber it was built from. The wind rustling the leaves on the trees outside. The ticking of a clock somewhere inside the house. But otherwise, all was silent.

  Was Dante still here?

  Surely, with his suspicions toward her, he would not have gone out and left her alone in the house?

  More likely he had also retired to one of the six bedchambers Bella had discovered on the second floor before choosing this one looking out at the beautiful forest beyond, and he was now asleep.

  If so, then it was safe for her to go down to the kitchen and hopefully make herself a cup of tea. She could also prepare something to eat from the box of provisions the groom and driver had carried in from the carriage earlier.

  After which, she would turn her attention to how she might leave here and return to London without Dante knowing she had gone. At least until it was too late for him to stop her. He had mentioned the nearby village earlier. If she walked to the inn there and was careful, she might avoid being seen by Dante’s driver and groom. It should then be a simple matter to persuade the innkeeper, with the incentive of some of the money in her purse, into providing her with a form of transport which she might use to take her far away from Hampshire.

  And Dante.

  Bella had no real wish to go out into the dark of night or walk the two miles to the village. But the need she felt to escape Dante and his hurtful accusations far outweighed any trepidation she might feel in regard to the darkness outside.

  She kept very quiet as she left the bedchamber, carefully placing one foot in front of the other to test the floorboards for creaks so as not to alert Dante as she crept down the hallway and stairs. They would have taken far less time to navigate if she had taken note and remembered any floorboards that had creaked when she came upstairs earlier, but her thoughts had been elsewhere at the time.

  Or nonexistent outside of the pain she felt at Dante’s lack of trust in her.

  No, she would not think about that again now. Plenty of time, when she was far away from here, to wallow in the mixture of emotions inside her, of the misery and anger she still felt at Dante’s betrayal. He was—

  The guttering candlelight downstairs revealed him as lying fast asleep on one of the couches in the comfortable seating area.

  Bella froze on the bottom step of the stairs, terrified she might have woken him, and so making escape impossible.

  Dante remained motionless. He was still fully dressed in the clothes he had been wearing earlier, although his boots had been removed. His head was at one end of the couch, dark hair disheveled. One stockinged foot rested on the opposite end of that piece of furniture, the other on the floor. His arms were folded on his chest.

  He was snoring gently.

  Bella gave an inner derisive snort as she thought of his denial the previous night of ever snoring. Not an unpleasant or stentorian snore, to be sure, but it was certainly louder than heavy breathing. There was also a strong odor of brandy, and an empty glass on the floor beside the couch, which perhaps accounted for Dante sleeping so heavily.

  None of which was of the least importance when Bella’s only goal was to escape from here and him.

  Dante might have drunk enough
brandy to send him into a deep sleep, but even so, she dared not risk the noise of making a cup of tea or preparing food. She would ask for both once she reached the inn. At the moment, Bella’s only priority was to leave the house as quickly and stealthily as possible.

  Her cloak and bonnet were where she had left them in the hallway, but she hesitated about leaving by the front door, seeming to remember it had squeaked slightly when first opened on their arrival. The back door, then. Although there was no guarantee that would not also make a noise if she attempted to open it. Perhaps the front door might be best after all—

  “Going somewhere?”

  Bella closed her eyes and counted to ten as she fought back the disappointment at having been found out before she had even had chance to step outside.

  She breathed in deeply before turning to face Dante. He was now sitting up on the couch, his face appearing haggard in the candlelight. There were dark shadows under his eyes, deep grooves in his cheeks and beside his eyes, his mouth was unsmiling, and the stubble darker than ever on his jaw.

  Her chin rose. “I came downstairs for a cup of tea and something to eat.”

  He raised skeptical brows. “If that’s the case, you were facing in the wrong direction.”

  She knew that, damn him. “I was merely collecting my bonnet and cloak in preparation for taking them with me when I go back upstairs.”

  Dante did not for one moment believe Bella’s claim. But neither did he wish to argue with her again tonight. Better to let the subject go for now. They had far more important things to turn their attention to. “I would welcome a cup of tea.” His mouth felt as if it were filled with those small balls of cotton he had once seen a drawing of in the newspaper, which grew in the south of the Americas. His head felt as if someone were banging a drum inside it, and his stomach had roiled at the mere mention of food.

  A glance at the brandy bottle across the room revealed that it was now only half-full, explaining why he felt all those things.

  “I am sure you know where the makings for the tea are better than I,” Bella answered him tartly.

  His brow lowered in a wince. “Do you have to talk so loudly?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do.” If anything, Bella raised her voice a little.

  “I advise you to save your anger for when I feel capable of dealing with it.”

  Her smile was scathing. “And when do you expect that to be?”

  “I have no fucking idea.” Dante sat up to swing both legs to the floor. The fire was still alight, just, and keeping the room warm, but the candle looked as it if was about to go out. “Nothing else to say?” he challenged as he rose slowly to his feet to deal with the fire and light a fresh candle. “No warnings of the evils of the demon drink? No crowing over the fact I am obviously suffering from an excess of brandy?”

  “I doubt there is any need for me to point out the obvious,” she spat out.

  “No, there is absolutely no need for you to do that.” He moved down on his haunches to throw several logs on the fire, watching the flames roar to life before straightening to take a taper, setting it alight in those flames before lighting a fresh candle. “But most women would not hesitate to do so,” he added once warmth and light had been restored to the room.

  “As I said, I see no reason to point out the obvious.” Her mouth was thinned with disapproval. “I can only hope the discomfort you are currently suffering is at least a fraction of the hurt you have caused me.”

  Dante had no idea of the degree of hurt he had caused Bella by telling her the truth of his reasons for seeking her out after seven years of silence. He did, however, know the exact extent to which his head now ached.

  He was also thoroughly disgusted with himself. As Bella had told the Monroes just this morning, they were now the only two members of the St. Just family still living. He should be protecting Bella, not treating her like a criminal.

  Except there was a female spy at large in English Society, and Dante had pledged his loyalty to the English Crown.

  Bella’s impassioned outburst to him earlier had seemed genuine enough, and there was no doubting she was still angry. But she had tried to leave London without his knowledge. As he knew she had also been about to leave the hunting lodge just now while he was sleeping.

  Those did not seem like the actions of an innocent woman.

  The two of them still had much to talk about, it seemed.

  “I am going to the kitchen to fill the kettle to make some tea,” he informed her coldly. “You may join me or not, that is up to you. But one thing I advise you not to do is put me to the trouble of chasing after you, if you should go forward with your plan to leave here. Your bared bottom will be very soundly thrashed if that should be the case.” Dante heard Bella’s gasp of either outrage or shock as he turned on his heel and strode through to the kitchen.

  The front door was wide open when he returned two minutes later with the filled kettle to place on the fire to heat the water.

  Dante felt a tide of anger wash over him as he saw Bella’s bonnet and cloak, as well as the lady herself, were all noticeably absent.

  Chapter 9

  Bella had no idea what had possessed her to grab up her bonnet and cloak, throw open the front door, and run out into the black of night. Nor did she have any idea in which direction the village lay or if there were any other dwellings close by. Although she doubted it, if Dante had the hunting rights to this part of the forest.

  It was also colder outside than she had realized, even with her cloak wrapped tightly about her, her bonnet on her head, and the shelter of the trees as she began to traipse through the forest.

  A part of her said she should go back to the lodge, that it was madness on her part to stride off into the unknown.

  But she refused to do that. Her pride was all she had left right now, and she would not relinquish that to Dante too. Besides, she refused to return only to suffer the humiliating punishment of having her bottom spanked.

  Dante would be furious when he discovered she had left the lodge, despite his having warned her not to do so. A part of her relished causing his fury.

  But the longer Bella walked, the more the forest seemed full of shadows cast by the moonlight overhead. There were also unfamiliar noises and rustlings in the undergrowth her imagination told her were wild animals waiting to pounce and attack her.

  She was very soon breathing hard and casting hunted and apprehensive glances about her.

  Perhaps she should turn around after all. What was her pride worth if she kept that but lost her life instead?

  Except when she turned to find her way back to the lodge, she realized she had completely lost her sense of direction, and that none of her surroundings seemed in the least familiar to her. Certainly she could not say for certain in which direction the lodge, and safety, lay.

  She was well and truly lost.

  Every part of her froze as she heard the snapping of a twig to the left of where she stood, her movement slow as she turned her head in that direction.

  Two eyes glittered at her from the base of one of the surrounding trees.

  Bella was immediately overcome by panic, turning quickly on her heel to run blindly in the opposite direction of those eyes. She wanted only to escape whatever was lurking there in the undergrowth watching her.

  She could see light up ahead. Well, perhaps not light exactly, but it was moonlight shining into an area unhindered by the trees.

  Bella headed toward what she hoped might be the road into the village, praying the wild animal stalking her would shy away from the possibility of meeting more humans. Although, as it was the middle of the night, there seemed little chance of that. But the thought of some protection was better than none.

  It was not exactly a road she found, more of a dirt track, but relief filled her to find something which looked as if it led to civilization. She continued to run, half-afraid to look behind her, to confirm whether or not she was still being followed. At the same tim
e as she felt a morbid curiosity. A need to know if that creature was hot on her heels.

  She was glancing back over her shoulder as she continued to run forward. Did not see the horse and its rider coming toward her until she was struck squarely in the chest. The blow knocked all the air from her lungs before spinning her off her feet.

  She lay inert and winded, unable to move as the horse reared up and over her, and she saw its hooves descending toward her.

  Bella closed her eyes and waited for the pain of death.

  When Dante caught up with Bella, he was going to pull down her drawers and spank her bare ass until it was painful for her to sit for a week, he promised himself as he trudged along the uneven road to the village. Not that he had any proof this was the direction she had taken when she fled out into the night, but he had to start looking for her somewhere.

  Once he had spanked her to his satisfaction, he was going to pull her drawers the rest of the way down, bend her over the couch as he had said he would, and fuck her, pound into her, until she promised him, over and over again, that she would never do anything so bloody stupid or dangerous ever again.

  As well as deer, there were wild boar in the forest surrounding this track. Not dozens of them, but it would only take one of the older males to take umbrage at Bella walking through his forest for the beast to attack. An angry male boar was enough to make a grown man quake in his boots, and Bella would stand no chance against such a creature.

  Much as he tried, Dante could not get the vision out of his head of a bloody and broken Bella lying on the forest floor, her chest stilled, the life having dulled from her eyes.

  Spank her ass? He could think of a much more fitting punishment for that ass, one that would give him pleasure while he withheld that same pleasure from Bella. Being refused her pleasure, any climax denied her, would perhaps make her think twice before she attempted to escape him again. He—

  He came to a halt as the moonlight showed him the outline of a horse and rider walking down the lane toward him.