Secrets for Seducing a Royal Bodyguard

by Vanessa Kelly

  It was a situation he could no longer tolerate. If caring for a woman meant one’s reason crumbled to dust, then Aden could afford no part of it.

  The door opened and Dominic entered, casting him a swift, assessing glance. “It must be bad if you’re wearing a path in my carpet,” his chief commented as he crossed to the drinks trolley behind his desk. “I’ve never known you to pace before. Lady Vivien must be trying your patience yet again.”

  Aden stopped before the big desk, crossing his arms behind his back and staring down at the floor. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Dominic while he delivered his news.

  “We were set upon not far from my mother’s house,” he said baldly. “Jem’s dead.”

  He kept his eyes firmly fastened on the pale pink and green roses knotted into the Axeminster carpet. A fraught silence seeped into the room, and Aden fancied the temperature dropped by several degrees. Unlike some spymasters who saw the death of any of their agents or functionaries as regrettable but unavoidable, Dominic didn’t react well to any loss, no matter who it was. He braced himself, knowing he deserved the full force of his chief’s anger.

  Aden heard the clink of crystal and the splash of liquid into glass. A moment later, Dominic handed him a tumbler with a neat dose of brandy. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said quietly. “He was a good lad and I know you were attached to him.”

  An automatic denial came to Aden’s lips, but the words didn’t come out. Dominic was right. He had grown fond of Jem, seeing in him the makings of a good spy and an even better man. His loss would be keenly felt.

  He stared into his mentor’s face, not really seeing him. First John in that debacle in France and now Jem. When had Aden become so attached to people? And now Vivien. He didn’t know what the hell he was going to do with her.

  Walk away, before it’s too late.

  His gut twisted into knots at the very idea, which only told him how necessary that course of action had become.

  “Sit down and tell me what happened. You’ll have plenty of time to blame yourself later,” Dominic said.

  Aden repressed the impulse to hunch his shoulders like a disobedient boy. Dominic always knew what Aden was thinking, one of his more irritating traits. Then again, his chief’s uncanny powers of perception were the reason he’d risen from humble beginnings to become one of the best spymasters the Service had ever seen.

  They both settled into comfortable wing chairs on either side of the fireplace. Tersely, Aden conveyed the essentials, glossing over the sensual interlude in the carriage. By the time he finished, Dominic’s impassive expression had transformed into one of skepticism.

  “Let me try to understand this,” he said. “Due to Lady Vivien’s contretemps with Lord Tumbler, you thought it best to spirit her away from the ball with as little fuss as possible.”

  “Her contretemps, as you call it, left her somewhat disheveled. That would have surely caused comment if she returned to the ball. She was also reluctant to face Prince Ivan again.”

  “I assure you her absence was noted, especially by Prince Ivan. He was quite vocal about it, unfortunately.”

  When Aden cursed, Dominic cracked a brief smile. “Your mother, of course, handled the situation very capably. She put out word that Vivien had suffered a relapse of her previous illness and that it had been necessary to take her home immediately. She also saw to it that Lady Blake left shortly thereafter, which supported her story.”

  “Did it work?” Aden asked doubtfully. Things were bad enough without adding a scandal on top of things.

  “Hard to tell, but again your mother came to our rescue.”

  “What did she do?”

  Dominic held up his brandy, letting the firelight strike amber glints off the crystal. Then he took a slow sip. Aden repressed a sigh, knowing his chief was playing him.

  “Lady Thornbury engaged in a very public flirtation with the Prince Regent,” Dominic finally said. “A few minutes into that little display, no one had a thought for Lady Vivien.”

  Aden shot upright, slopping brandy on his cuff. “She did what?”

  Dominic sent him an ironic look. “You heard me. One of the regrets of my professional life is that your mother never joined the Service. I told her years ago that she would make a truly accomplished spy, but she turned me down.”

  Aden gaped at him, unable to decide what stunned him more—that Dominic had asked his mother to become a spy, or that she’d engaged in a public flirtation with his father. Aden and his mother never discussed the Prince Regent, but he’d deduced long ago that she’d come to despise the man for how he’d taken advantage of her as a young, naïve woman in an unhappy marriage, and for how it had affected Aden’s life. The fact that she’d voluntarily put herself out in so forward a fashion . . .

  “She did it because it was necessary,” Dominic said, reading his thoughts again. “And she did it for you.”

  That idea stiffened every muscle in Aden’s back and shoulders. He loathed the idea of being beholden to his mother. It made him feel . . . vulnerable.

  “I would suggest you get past it,” Dominic said in an unsympathetic voice. He set his glass down on a small side table with a decided click, signalling the end of that part of the discussion. “So, we now have a second abduction attempt—and a much riskier one, given that the attempt was made while Lady Vivien was clearly well protected—”

  “Not well enough,” Aden interrupted.

  “Well protected,” Dominic repeated calmly. “Given that, who is now your likeliest suspect in the case?”

  “Khovansky. He has unlimited financial means at his disposal and the influence to deflect any uncomfortable questions. Blake may be involved, but only in a peripheral way.”

  The image of Khovansky attacking Vivien the other night, bending her back over her brother’s desk, flashed through Aden’s mind. It had him clenching his fingers around the glass.

  “You find Khovansky’s obsession with Lady Vivien most disturbing, don’t you?” Dominic asked in a deceptively casual tone.

  Aden stared at him in disbelief. “And you don’t?”

  “Of course, but it’s different for you. It goes much deeper.”

  Again, automatic words of denial sprung to his lips, but he managed to bite them back. There was no point. Dominic clearly knew how he felt, and this was the very issue Aden needed to raise anyway.

  “Yes, which is why I need to remove myself from this case.” He stared into the smoky depths of his glass, trying to find the right words. “My emotions have come into play. The last time that happened, John died in the bed of a French spy.” A sense of failure rustled through him, closely followed by the first faint echoes of despair. “And now Jem is dead.”

  He raised his gaze to meet Dominic’s. “I’ve become a danger to Vivien and to those around me. And even to myself,” he said bitterly, recalling how Vivien’s quick thinking had saved him. “Fool that I am, I almost got myself killed tonight.”

  “I’m pleased to hear you are opposed to that outcome,” Dominic said caustically. “For the last several weeks, I’ve feared a slip into a melancholic and perhaps fatal decline.”

  Aden slammed his glass down on the side table. “Christ, Dominic! Do you think this is a joke? I almost got four people killed tonight!” He jumped up and began pacing the room again. “Don’t you understand? My emotions are beginning to cloud my judgment. It’s time to put someone else in charge of this case and get me as far away from anything to do with it as possible.”

  “You mean, get you as far away from Lady Vivien as possible.”

  Aden didn’t bother to dignify that with an answer. After a minute or so, his chief unfolded his tall form from the chair and strolled to the center of the room, forcing Aden to come to a halt.

  “Emotions are only a problem if we let them get in our way,” Dominic said. “Properly channeled, they can both sharpen our senses and our skills, and strengthen our resolve to protect those in our care.”

&nbs
p; Aden turned that over in his mind for a few moments, then impatiently rejected it. “I don’t work that way. I never have.”

  Dominic’s green gaze glittered cold, like the hardest of emeralds. “Then learn to adapt. Lady Vivien needs you, and you remain the man most suited for this job.”

  When Aden opened his mouth to object, the other man’s eyes blazed hot with anger. The sight was so startling, so unlike Dominic’s ironclad, calmly ironic demeanor, that Aden involuntarily flinched.

  “Are you so arrogant as to think you can walk away from this now?” Dominic snapped. “And what about Lady Vivien’s feelings? Have you thought how she will feel when you abandon her?”

  Aden stared at him, too disconcerted to answer.

  “That is not a rhetorical question,” Dominic growled.

  “I haven’t.”

  “Then I suggest you start. Lady Vivien is entirely vulnerable right now, but she does trust you. I would be most disappointed if you betrayed that trust by giving in to what is nothing more than a selfish impulse.”

  Irritation punched through Aden’s surprise. “I’m trying to keep her safe, Dominic. Why can’t you understand that? I’m no good to her if I can’t think straight.”

  “Sooner or later you’re going to have to learn to think through the muddle of your emotions, instead of around them. For years I’ve watched you cut yourself off from the people in your life, building a high wall around yourself. And for years it worked, so I allowed it. But it’s not working anymore, Aden. So it’s time to try something different.”

  Aden felt like a tongue-tied schoolboy confronted with a perplexing equation, one that defied understanding no matter how hard he tried. All he could do was stand, rooted to the floor, staring at Dominic as his frustrated mind tried to sort it all out.

  “I don’t know how to do that,” he finally admitted.

  The anger in Dominic’s eyes abated. “Step back a bit if you must, but don’t abandon her. Vivien needs you, whether you will it or not.” He let his mouth ease into a sympathetic smile. “You always worry a problem like a dog with a bone, Aden. You’ll figure this one out, eventually.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Aden muttered.

  Dominic had started to move behind his desk, but stopped to cast him a sharp glance. “How do you think you’d feel if something happened to Vivien because you weren’t there to protect her? Would that be acceptable to you, knowing you had walked away instead of doing everything you could to keep her from harm? How would you feel to lose her that way instead of standing your ground and fighting for her?”

  Aden glared at him, hating his chief’s blunt manipulation even as he silently acknowledged the truth of his words.

  Surprisingly, Dominic glanced away, staring out the window into the black night. When he returned his gaze to meet Aden’s, his eyes looked remarkably bleak.

  “I have suffered the cruelty of such a loss,” his chief said in a quiet voice. “And a man does not recover from it. He moves ahead, but always he drags part of it with him, forever holding him back.”

  A deep silence fell between them, broken only by the crackling of the fire. Aden had heard whispers of some great tragedy affecting Dominic’s youth, but no one had ever had the nerve to broach the subject. He had assumed it little more than idle gossip fueled by Dominic’s mysterious past, but now he saw the evidence right before him.

  But a moment later, Dominic’s discipline returned, his gaze cool. “I tell you this as a friend, Aden. If you walk away from this now, you will regret it for the rest of your life.”

  Aden nodded. He didn’t have to like it—in fact, he hated it—but Dominic was right. “Very well. What would you suggest as our next step?”

  “I’ll take over the investigation into Khovansky, including any possible ties in this matter to Lord Blake.”

  “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

  When a sardonic smile curled up the edges of Dominic’s mouth, Aden could barely hold back a curse. Whatever was coming next, he wasn’t going to like.

  “You, my dear Aden, are about to take a wife.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Vivien jerked out of her uneasy doze with her heart pounding and her muddled brain struggling to make sense of her surroundings. But she couldn’t seem to focus, couldn’t remember where she was. Panic clawed her in its irrational grip.

  “It’s all right, Vivien,” came Lady Thornbury’s soothing voice. “You’re at my house, remember?”

  Of course.

  Blinking, she took in the quiet elegance of Lady Thornbury’s morning room, where they waited for Aden to return from Bow Street. He’d been gone for hours, and his mother had finally persuaded her to close her eyes and rest. Vivien had been convinced she couldn’t sleep a wink but she’d quickly fallen into a restless slumber.

  She flicked aside the cashmere shawl across her legs and swung her feet to the floor, done with her nightmare-addled sleep. Peering at the small clock on the mantel, she tried to focus her gaze on the delicate numbers on its face. No luck. Exhaustion dogged her, even more so than when she’d been kidnapped. The almost constant strain of the last few days—both physical and emotional—was taking its toll.

  “What time is it?” she asked, hiding a yawn behind one hand.

  “It’s almost five o’clock,” Lady Thornbury replied as she stirred up the dying embers of the fire. Then she moved silently about the room, lighting several branches of candles. Vivien had to squint until her stinging eyes adjusted to the light.

  “Aden . . . the captain hasn’t yet returned?” she asked.

  When her friend cast her a sharp glance, Vivien willed herself not to blush. Aden’s manner when he had left her with his mother several hours ago had been brisk and sensible rather than loverlike. He’d carried her up to this room, issuing instructions to his mother as he went, then had deposited Vivien on the chaise and told her to stay put. If she hadn’t been so shattered by Jem’s death, Vivien would have bristled at his imperious tone. As it was, she’d wanted nothing more than to crawl into a dark corner, rest her head on her knees, and burst into tears.

  “Aden has just come in,” Lady Thornbury said. “That’s what woke you up. You heard voices down in the hall.”

  Vivien smoothed a stray curl of hair back from her face, all too conscious that she must look far from presentable. She’d changed into one of Lady Thornbury’s warmest dressing gowns hours ago and pulled her hair back in a long braid, but it would take more than that to make her less of a fright. She needed a decent night’s sleep—several, in fact—and a respite from the fear and anxiety that dogged her every step. Unfortunately, that didn’t appear to be on the immediate horizon.

  Shoving her feet into the pair of cozy slippers that went with the dressing gown, she pushed herself up. A wave of dizziness swept over her and she staggered, banging her hip into the arm of the chaise.

  As black dots flickered across her vision, she heard the door open and swift footsteps cross the room. Strong, familiar arms swept around her and lowered her carefully back onto the chaise.

  “Take easy, slow breaths,” Aden’s voice said calmly in her ear.

  She did as he said, sighing with relief at the feel of his steady hand on her back, stroking up and down her spine. Gradually, her vision cleared and her stomach settled.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, giving him a weak smile.

  He inspected her with a somber gaze. As she stared back, taking in his handsome, fatigue-marked features, it came to her in a blazing rush that she only felt truly safe and at peace when he was near. On the heels of that alarming realization, it took all her willpower not to throw herself into his arms and burst into foolish tears.

  But her feelings must have been evident, because something wary shifted in his gaze and his face went blank. His hand fell from her back and he rose and crossed to the fireplace, as if seeking its warmth.

  “Mother,” he said, “I think Lady Vivien could use a cup of tea.” />
  “I’ve already rung for it.” Lady Thornbury rustled up to him and placed a motherly hand on his cheek, turning his face toward her. “I think you could use a cup, too. And some breakfast.”

  “Coffee, more like it. And a fresh change of clothes,” he said in a wry voice. “Bow Street is never a debutante’s ball at the best of times, but in the middle of the night . . .” His nostrils flared with disdain.

  “Lady Vivien, you look tired,” he said, abruptly switching the topic. “Didn’t you get any rest?”

  She swallowed the lump in her throat from his cool tone. Why couldn’t she remember that he saw her primarily as a responsibility, and not someone he wished a relationship with? After all the trouble she’d caused, Aden probably couldn’t wait to be shot of her.

  “Yes, although I imagine I look almost as bad as you do,” she said, trying for a light tone. “But at least I don’t smell like the inside of a guardhouse.”

  His eyes flashed with a quick gleam of appreciation and a smile lifted the edges of his stern mouth. It lasted only a second, but it lifted her spirits. It was ridiculous how much he affected her, a fact that did not bode well for her future peace of mind when her travails were over and he disappeared from her life.

  “Mother, I need you to find suitable clothes for Lady Vivien for an extended trip into the country,” he said, all business again. His rapid switches in demeanor were making her dizzy. “She cannot return home to pack and we must be ready to leave London within the hour,” he ended on a decisive note.

  Vivien gaped at him. “What are you talking about?”

  “I will explain in a moment.”

  He turned his back to her, conferring quietly with his mother. Vivien crossed her arms over her chest and stared daggers at the back of his head. Of course he couldn’t see her, but it made her feel better. Yes, she had a ridiculous crush on the man, but that didn’t mean she liked it when he ordered her about like a child.