Taken by the Earl (Regency Unlaced 3)

by Carole Mortimer

  She blinked, a rebellious glitter appearing in those dark gray eyes, informing Sin that for all her demur demeanor, this was not a lady accustomed to being ordered about by any man. Least of all him.

  Her reply confirmed it. “Then let us hope you have finished your business out here by the time I come downstairs after returning my bonnet and parasol to my room.”

  Sin frowned at her stubbornness. “Your husband should have taken a riding crop to your backside when he had the chance,” he muttered so that only she could hear.

  Fliss gave him an unconcerned smile. “Stephen was far too much of a gentleman to ever raise a hand—or riding crop—to a lady.”

  Implying that he was not, Sin acknowledged with inner frustration.

  Sin had made discreet enquiries before joining Fliss for a walk in the garden and now knew exactly who her husband had been. Sin had never met Major Stephen Randall, but he knew of the gentleman. Not only was Major Randall a man not much older than Sin—making a nonsense of his earlier assumption her husband had been aged and incapable of satisfying her physically—but the other man had excelled himself in Wellington’s army before being struck down at Waterloo. A war hero and a gentleman.

  Sin did not consider himself to be either.

  Oh, he had served, as had so many other Scottish men, but in the navy as a captain, rather than the army. Unfortunately, he had been washed overboard in the heat of battle before being taken prisoner aboard a French vessel.

  He spent the next year as a prisoner of the French, then finally managed a successful escape and made his way back to England. Admittedly, he had brought back vital information toward the war effort, and had afterward served as an agent for the Crown until Napoleon was safely incarcerated on St. Helena. But he was not the public hero Major Stephen Randall had been.

  Sin bared his teeth in a humorless grin. “Unluckily for you, I have no such qualms.”

  Fliss eyed him uncertainly, unsure whether or not he was in earnest with his threat. The unwavering green gaze staring back into her own confirmed that he was.

  She stood as tall as her much shorter height would allow. “You are every inch the barbarian you are reputed to be, sir.”

  “I am,” he confirmed without apology.

  Fliss lingered only a few seconds more before turning sharply on her slippered heel and returning to the house at a brisk pace.

  “Ah, Mrs. Randall, I had been wondering where you had got to.” Her hostess stood in the doorway of the breakfast room, where it seemed, from the noise of chatter inside the room, a number of the other guests had gathered. “Do come and join us.”

  Despite what she had said, Fliss had fully intended to sit in her bedchamber and wait for Sin’s return. Not because he had ordered her to, but because the people who accepted Lady Eckles’s hospitality were not the type she would normally associate with.

  But it would seem a little churlish on her part to refuse Maria Eckles’s invitation, considering Fliss was the one who had inveigled herself here in the first place.

  “I breakfasted in my room earlier, but a cup of tea would be most welcome.” She gave the other woman a polite smile as, instead of going to her bedchamber, Fliss now handed the butler her bonnet and parasol before crossing the entrance hall to join the older woman.

  “I cannot tell you what a delightful surprise it was when you expressed an interest in attending our little house party.” Maria linked her arm companionably through Fliss’s as the two women entered the breakfast room together. “But I perfectly understand the reason for it now.” She gave Fliss a conspiratorial smile.

  Fliss’s mind went a complete blank for several long seconds until she realized that Maria Eckles obviously knew of the time Fliss had spent in Sin Montgomery’s company. All of it? Including the time Fliss had spent in his bedchamber the previous evening? As Fliss looked up into those shrewd blue eyes, she realized that not much escaped Maria Eckles’s notice.

  “It is always nice to spend time in the country,” Fliss answered her noncommittally, already searching the room for any gentleman with a familiar head of blond hair.

  Unfortunately there were several gentlemen seated or standing about the breakfast room who fitted that description. She did not know all the gentlemen, but she recognized the faces of Lord Adam Sterling, Mr. Archibald Greaves, and Lord Samuel Waverly as the three talked together near the window. There were also two other fair-haired gentlemen sitting at the table whom Fliss did not know.

  She had not thought it would be as difficult as this to identify the gentleman from the evening in the Woodrows’ library.

  Sin could not remember the last time he had felt as angry as he did now.

  His groom was stricken down with severe abdominal pains.

  Dante was similarly afflicted.

  Sin had no idea when or if either of them would recover.

  Now he had returned to the house to find Fliss comfortably ensconced in the breakfast room and surrounded by a veritable crowd of admiring gentlemen. Completely contrary to his instructions.

  “I fear you have competition for Mrs. Randall’s…affections, my lord.”

  Sin turned his narrowed gaze on his hostess. “You are mistaken, madam.”

  “I do not think so.” A maliciously amused smile curved Lady Eckles’s painted lips as she gave a pointed glance across the room to where a crowd of gentlemen were gathered about the chaise near the window, Felicity Randall at its center.

  “I was referring to the fact that it is not done to discuss a lady with a third party,” Sin bit out coldly.

  “Especially when one is bedding that lady?” his hostess mocked.

  Sin’s jaw tightened. “If you will excuse me.” He gave a stiff bow before striding across the room.

  Fliss sensed Sin’s presence before she saw him, a sensation of being watched causing a frisson of awareness to travel the length of her spine. It caused her to break off her conversation with Archibald Greaves and turn to look in the direction from which that sensation originated.

  She drew her breath in sharply as she saw Sin bearing down on them, green eyes ablaze with his displeasure.

  “If you will excuse us, gentlemen.” Sin reached down to grasp her arm and pull her to her feet before marching back across the room, Fliss anchored to his side.

  “You are making a spectacle of us both,” Fliss hissed.

  “No, you were making a spectacle of yourself.” He did not so much as glance at her as he strode across the room and began to ascend the wide staircase leading to the floor above.

  Fliss had never been manhandled this way before. Nor did she think she should find quite so much delicious pleasure in it, or in seeing the earl so incensed.

  Except, to her shame, she did. Another shiver of anticipation now ran the length of her spine as she wondered how he would punish her for disobeying him.

  For so long, she had been the dutiful daughter, the Honorable Miss Felicity Barnett. Then the loyal wife, Mrs. Stephen Randall. Now the respectable widow, Mrs. Felicity Randall. At all times, and as all of them, she had been completely above reproach.

  Sin had shown her a different side of herself, both last night and again this morning. He saw her as something other than any of those roles of respectability.

  That he was furious, she had no doubt. That his fury was directed at her was also in no doubt. She should be resisting his hold on the top of her arm as he dragged her along beside him. Should be furious at his high-handedness in dragging her about at all, in this less than ladylike manner.

  Instead, it was excitement which now thrummed through Fliss’s body. A delicious thrill that hardened the already sensitive tips of her breasts and caused a slick heat to suffuse the plumpness of her nether lips.

  She had known so much pleasure beneath the ministration of this man’s mouth and hands already, and she now hungered for more of the same.

  She was utterly shameless in that hunger.

  Wanton, even.

  “Whatever
you want or are expecting, I do not have the time for right now,” Sin growled as he threw open the door to Fliss’s bedchamber. He pushed her into the room and then followed her inside. The door closed behind him with a decisive slam.

  Fliss stumbled as he released her. “You are not a gentleman, sir.” He dressed as one, had the public demeanor of one, but he was assuredly not one. Fliss rubbed the spot where he had gripped her arm so tightly, she could already see the marks of where his fingers had been.

  Sin crossed his arms in front of his chest as he leaned back against the door. “What did you not understand about my instruction earlier, to return to your bedchamber and stay there?”

  She bristled. “I am a grown woman and not answerable to you or any other man.”

  “Really? To me, your behavior seems more like that of a petulant child.”

  Anger burned in Fliss’s cheeks at the rebuke. “I merely saw an opportunity and took it. I do not see what is so terribly wrong in that.” She was not about to explain, when Sin was so unreasonably angry, that it had not been her idea to linger downstairs in the breakfast room.

  “And did this opportunity offer any further insight in that you have recognized the voice of my would-be assassin?”

  “Not as yet. But—”

  “My groom and horse are both likely to die, and you take delight in defying me?” he spat out in disgust. “Who knows where or at whom this madman will strike next, or when?”

  Fliss’s eyes widened in shock, her anger forgotten. “You do believe they were struck down deliberately, then?”

  “I have no certain proof of that as yet, nor does the head groom here. Only that he has never seen anything strike so swiftly and virulently.” Sin pushed away from the door to begin pacing the bedchamber. “We will need to go over the conversation you overheard at the Woodrows’ ball more carefully. To see if there are any clues there to point to the reason someone wishes to harm me. And, it would seem, those around me,” he added harshly.

  “I have already told you all I know—”

  “Then you will tell me again,” he snapped.

  “And this time you will listen?”

  Sin sighed at the unspoken rebuke, knowing it was wholly deserved. “This time I will listen.”

  Listen he did, but to no real avail. Fliss had obviously given this matter considerable thought during the weeks since she’d overheard the conversation, and her recall of detail was meticulous. Except she still had no idea who the lady or gentleman might have been. Nor did Sin have any idea why he should have incited these murderous feelings in the first place.

  All they knew with any certainty was the place where Sin’s murder was due to take place.

  Eckles Manor.

  Chapter 7

  “Where are you going?” Fliss frowned as Sin moved to her bedchamber door.

  He shot her a glowering glance. “I only came back to the house to change out of these clothes and into something more suited for the stable. My groom is sick,” he reminded her as she looked at him questioningly. “The doctor has been called to attend to him, and so I am needed to attend to my horse.”

  This was what he had meant earlier when he told her whatever you want or expect, I do not have the time for right now.

  What had he thought she wanted or expected?

  Exactly what had she wanted? To feel the full weight of his anger before that anger turned to other, more pleasurable pursuits?

  Yes.

  What was wrong with her? What sort of woman had she become in the twenty-four hours since her arrival here?

  A woman she hardly knew, Fliss realized, as a heaviness settled in her chest. A woman who had thought only of her own pleasure when a man and horse were possibly dying. Poisoned, she had no doubt, even if Sin did, by whoever wished to kill the earl.

  She looked at him sharply. “You should not stand vigil alone. I will—”

  “I will not be alone. The Eckles’s head groom will be with me. You will send word down to our hostess that you are indisposed,” the earl informed her flatly. “Then you will remain here in your room until I return.”

  “But that could be tomorrow morning,” Fliss protested. “What am I supposed to do shut in here all day?”

  He shrugged. “Read a book. Until yesterday, it appears to have been your favorite pastime,” he taunted.

  Until yesterday? What—

  Fliss turned away from the scathing mockery she could see in Sin’s expression.

  He knew, damn it.

  How she now hungered and ached inside to feel more of the pleasure he had already given her. Of how her disappointment in his leaving had only increased that ache.

  Her humiliation was complete.

  Fliss raised her chin. “I would appreciate it if you would send word if—when, there is any change in either your groom’s condition, or your horse’s. I will worry otherwise,” she said as Sin looked at her enquiringly.

  Sin’s initial anger at finding Fliss at the center of a handful of flirting fops when he had clearly instructed her otherwise now abated, to an extent he realized he had perhaps been a little harsh with her.

  After all, she had only come here to Eckles Manor because of him. Now he knew who her husband had been, he was aware the respectable widow of Major Stephen Randall would not willingly have chosen to spend part of her summer with a house full of debauched revelers.

  Her complete innocence of such behavior put her in almost as much danger as she claimed him to be, if from another source entirely.

  “I will send word.” He nodded. “In return, you will do as I say this time, and also lock the door when I leave. Your maid will deliver all your meals to your room. You are not to leave this bedchamber until I return to the house and say you may.”

  Fliss gasped. “You have no right!”

  Sin crossed the bedchamber in two strides before grasping the tops of her arms and shaking her. “Damn it, can you not see I am doing my best to protect you? You will do as I say, Fliss.” He stared down at her intently.

  In Fliss’s opinion, Sin was being overly protective in expecting her to spend all of this gloriously sunny day in her bedchamber. After all, she was not the one in danger, he was.

  Besides which, she had already agreed to join Lord Adam Sterling for a picnic luncheon.

  “I understand,” she answered with a noncommittal smile.

  “Good.” He lowered his head and kissed her hard on the lips before releasing her just as abruptly and stepping back. “Lock the door behind me,” he repeated firmly.

  Fliss kept a half smile on her face for as long as it took Sin to leave her bedchamber. That smile disappeared as she locked the door and then pressed her ear against it, listening until she heard Sin’s firm tread disappear down the hallway.

  She turned to lean back against that door, fingers lifted to the lips he had just ravaged, half of her knowing the kiss had been meant as yet another way of controlling her, another part of her not caring why he had kissed her, only that he had.

  She truly had become wanton in her yearnings for Sin’s attentions.

  But not his domination.

  She didn’t care what Sin said or instructed, there were at least half a dozen gentlemen at Eckles Manor who fitted the height, build, and hair color of the man she had heard discussing Sin’s murder. If Sin was preoccupied with the care of his horse, then it was up to Fliss to meet each of those gentlemen individually. To do her best to ascertain whether or not he was the man she had overheard bargaining sexual favors in exchange for killing the earl.

  Starting with Lord Adam Sterling.

  Sin was exhausted as he sat in the straw beside a now standing Dante, the darkness outside the stable telling him of the lateness of the hour. But at least his stallion was back on his feet, if looking very sorry for himself, his chestnut coat lackluster.

  Sin and Tom, the head groom here, had purged the stallion first thing and then suffered hours of caring for the sick beast and forcing more water down his thro
at to replace what he had lost.

  His groom was given similar treatment by the doctor who had been called to attend him, and was also recovering. Sin intended talking to him as soon as the man was well enough to give an account of what had happened. This illness seemed to have been caused by something ingested by both groom and horse. Quite what that could have been, Sin had no idea. Yet.

  It had been growing dark outside, lamps alight in the stable, when he finally felt the danger for Dante had passed and he could dismiss the head groom.

  Sin rose wearily his feet to stroke and pet the equine’s neck. “I will find who did this to you,” he assured softly in the stillness of the night. “And when I do, they will pay, and pay dearly. I promise you that.”

  “You would find it strange, I am sure, if he were to answer you.”

  Sin turned, only the dark shadow of the woman visible on the other side of Dante’s stall. But Sin knew Fliss’s voice well enough to be sure it was her. “What are you doing out of your bedchamber?”

  She gave an impatient snort as she stepped farther into the soft glow of the lamplight. “I have brought you food. Cook says you have not eaten anything all day.” She held up the wicker basket and blanket she carried before placing them down beside her.

  He raised his brows. “You have been down to the kitchen to get me food?”

  “Is that something else you forbid me to do?”

  His jaw tightened as he heard the sarcasm lacing her tone. “If it involved you leaving your bedchamber, then yes. If a member of my ship’s crew had disobeyed me in this way, they would have felt the lash.”

  “You have a ship?”

  “As it happens, I do. But I was referring to my years as captain aboard one of His Majesty’s frigates.”

  “You fought in His Majesty’s navy?”

  “I did.”

  Sin’s closed expression also told her he would not discuss the subject any further tonight. If ever. That he had already told her too much.