Secrets for Seducing a Royal Bodyguard

by Vanessa Kelly

  Aden snaked an arm around her waist, pulling her back into bed. She fought him, flailing her arms and legs in an effort to escape but he held her hard against him.

  “You must be a dimwit if you think I would take advantage of you,” he snapped. “I assure you there is nothing convenient about this situation or about falling in love with you.”

  She jerked once and then fell still, staring over her shoulder at him with a stunned gaze. Aden wanted to bite his tongue out. If he needed any proof that he had to get away from her, he’d just provided it. He had fallen in love with her, God help him. And it made him more vulnerable to making mistakes than he’d ever even imagined.

  “You love me?” she asked in a tight voice as she twisted partway around in his embrace.

  He sighed, feeling all the weariness of the last few months. Nay, years. “Of course I love you. How could I not? You’re the most interesting woman I’ve ever met, despite your unfailing ability to get yourself into ridiculous situations.”

  She gave him a tentative smile. “I don’t do it on purpose, you know. Things just seem to happen to me.”

  “Yes, I’ve noticed that trouble finds you on a fairly regular basis.”

  When she started to protest, he pressed a finger to her lips. “You’re also intelligent, loyal, and generous to a fault, and it doesn’t hurt that I could make love to you three times a day for the rest of my natural life and still not have enough of you.”

  She wriggled with pleasure, bringing her softly curved backside against his groin with predictably distracting results.

  “You think I’m pretty,” she said shyly.

  He feathered kisses along the tender nape of her neck, and she arched against him. “Pretty doesn’t begin to cover it,” he murmured.

  She twisted fully around in his arms to meet his gaze. “Then why do you keep pulling away from me? If we love each other, then what is the problem?”

  He frowned down at her. Where to begin? “Vivien, I wasn’t exaggerating when I said I wasn’t good enough for you. You can’t begin to conceive of the life I’ve led . . . the things I’ve done, and the things I still must do.”

  “You’re talking about your work?”

  “Yes.”

  She rested her hands on his chest, staring earnestly up at him. “But surely you’ve done enough. You’ve been in the army for—”

  When he shook his head in disagreement, she scoffed with impatience. “Very well. You’ve been a spy for almost ten years, is that not right?”

  He nodded cautiously.

  “Then I would say you’ve earned the right to retire from what must surely be a most dangerous profession. It’s not as if you don’t have other alternatives. After all, you’re a St. George. Yes, I understand that you’re a younger son, but—”

  “I am not a St. George,” he growled. “I have never truly been one of them, nor will I ever be.”

  She peered at him with confusion. “You’re the son of Lord and Lady Thornbury. How can you not be a St. George?”

  He released her as his gut twisted with bitterness. Sliding out of the bed, he snatched up his breeches and yanked them on. “Lord Thornbury was not my father.”

  Simply admitting it made bile rise in his throat. He fumbled with the fall of his breeches, avoiding her gaze until he’d buttoned himself. When he finally looked up, he couldn’t read her expression.

  “That is certainly unexpected,” she said quietly. “But hardly unheard of.” She hesitated, as if searching for the right words. “Did your fa—did Lord Thornbury know?”

  “Yes.” Aden couldn’t bring himself to say anything more than that.

  She nodded. “And yet he still acknowledged you as his son. That was kind of him.”

  A harsh laugh fought its way from his throat. “Hardly. He didn’t have a choice.”

  Vivien frowned and brushed an errant lock of hair away from her forehead. She looked so beautiful, sitting amongst the rumpled bed linens. Beautiful and innocent, and not for him.

  “What do you mean?”

  Aden grimaced. “He had no choice because he had no desire to run afoul of my natural father. Lord Thornbury was anything but kind, I assure you. But he did not wish to embroil himself in the kind of scandal that would have resulted if he rejected me or my mother.”

  Vivien narrowed her gaze. “Aden, exactly who is your father?”

  “The Prince Regent.”

  At the stunned expression on her face, his body went cold. There were many royal by-blows littering the land—he knew several—some of them of high rank. But those royal bastards hadn’t had the shame of their parentage thrown into their faces on a regular basis, or seen their mothers treated with contempt by their husbands. But to his stepfather, Aden was a constant reminder of betrayal, and the old bastard had never let him forget it.

  He retrieved his shirt off the floor, pulling it over his head while keeping his back to her. “And that, my dear, is why any sort of arrangement between us is impossible.”

  The bedclothes rustled and he heard Vivien softly pad across the floor. Her slender arms went around his waist as she rested her cheek between his shoulder blades.

  “I am truly sorry for the pain your parents have caused,” she said. “But their shame is not your shame.”

  He wanted to pull away from her but couldn’t bring himself to do it. Her warmth, pressed all along his back, felt like heaven.

  “I think you’ll find that opinion to be in the minority,” he said. “In my case, most of society would agree with my stepfather.”

  She moved around to stand in front of him, clothed in nothing but a bedsheet and looking impossibly beautiful. “But your mother is one of the most admired women in the ton. I’m not sure who knows the truth about your parentage—”

  “Just about everyone,” he interjected in a cynical tone.

  “I’ve never heard even the slightest rumor, and I’ve been out and about in society for over seven years.”

  Now that she mentioned it, he couldn’t remember the last time anyone had referred to his scandalous origins. And it was true that his mother enjoyed a very high standing in society, so perhaps the scandal had faded to a point where it no longer truly mattered. The shame and resentment had colored his life for so long—Aden couldn’t even remember when he’d first learned who his father was—that perhaps his perception was distorted. Still . . .

  “Aden,” Vivien said, poking him in the chest, “you’ve essentially been away from London for ten years. Whatever scandal was attached to your birth has faded to the point of inconsequence. Besides, you’re hardly the only illegitimate child of a prince. The Duke of Clarence has ten of them, and no one seems to give a fig about that.”

  Aden scratched the stubble on his chin. “That’s all very true, but surely you can’t expect me to believe it wouldn’t be a concern to you.”

  She cast him such a look of disdain that he was tempted to shuffle his feet.

  “Do you really think I’m that shallow?” she asked. “What have I ever done to give you that sort of idea?”

  Brooding over her words, he wandered over to sit on the bed. Vivien gathered the trailing hem of her sheet and followed him.

  “If I don’t care about that sort of thing,” she said in a matter-of-fact voice, “I don’t see why you should, either.”

  Frustration started to build in his chest. Why could she not see how impossible it was? He’d chosen his path long ago, and it had forever marked him. She couldn’t begin to understand what loving him would mean for her.

  “It’s not just my parentage that makes me ineligible for marriage, it’s what I do.” He gave her a hard stare, willing her to understand.

  She adopted a patient expression. “Yes, you’re a spy. But you won’t be a spy forever, will you? I’m willing to wait.”

  Now she was trying to manage him. “Vivien, you have no idea what you’re saying. The life I’ve led, the things I’ve done . . . it would be criminal for me to allow that to to
uch you. You are much too sheltered and innocent to understand—”

  “Naturally, I couldn’t possibly understand what you’ve done. Oh, wait, I could,” she said sarcastically. “I saw it the night you rescued me. You stuck a knife into the ribs of that man outside the cave.”

  “Have you forgotten how you reacted when you saw that man? You almost fainted.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Of course I almost fainted. It was horrible. But I expect one doesn’t rescue people from kidnappers by playing games with them. You did what you had to do, and I’m so grateful for that.”

  “Vivien—”

  She held up a hand. “I understand that what you do is important. And I have told you that I’m willing to wait. Again, I ask you, what exactly is the problem?”

  Aden clenched his fists against his thighs. He’d never expected her to be so bloody pragmatic about the whole thing. Christ, she was even beginning to make sense, and that scared the hell out of him. He couldn’t bear the thought of her in danger or in any way tainted by what he did. And if he married her or even gave her a hope of marriage, he would surely put her in harm’s way. His past would see to that.

  He forced himself to harden his heart. “The problem is you, Vivien. You make this situation impossible.”

  Her eyes widened but she held her ground. “I don’t understand.”

  “By loving you, by having you in my life, you make me vulnerable. And when I am vulnerable, it puts you in danger. That is not something I can tolerate.”

  Some of the color leached from her face. “Explain, please.”

  “A few weeks before you were abducted, I was on a mission in France with a small team of agents. We had worked together for years and knew each other as well as we knew ourselves. One man, in particular, was an old friend and my closest associate. His name was John, and he would gladly have given his life for me or for any other member of our team.”

  Aden paused, slowly opening his fists and smoothing his sweaty palms along his thighs.

  “Go on,” Vivien prompted.

  He glanced up and nodded. “John had previously been in Italy for some weeks, and he had taken up with a woman there—a beautiful and accomplished actress. When he travelled to Paris to meet up with the rest of us, he brought her with him.”

  Vivien’s fine brows arched up, but she said nothing.

  “I objected, of course,” Aden said, “but John would have none of it. He swore they were in love, and that she was exactly who she appeared to be. Nothing I said made any difference, and I finally gave up, but only on the understanding that he leave the Service at the end of the mission if he intended to remain with her.” He couldn’t hold back a bitter, self-mocking smile. “He loved her so much that he readily agreed.”

  Vivien flinched and pulled the sheet more tightly around her breasts. “I can understand that.”

  “Perhaps I can, too. Except John never got the chance to resign because his lover slit his throat while he slept. Then she stole the coded maps he was to carry back to England.”

  He ignored Vivien’s choke of horror. “She was a spy for Bonapartists, you see, and had been using John all along. If I hadn’t been so bloody stupid and so willing to give my old friend the benefit of the doubt, I would have seen that and found a way to expose her deadly charade. It was all just too neat and convenient, but I let John’s emotions”—he corrected himself—“I let my emotions get in the way, and John’s death was the result.”

  “That’s not true, Aden.”

  She reached to touch him but he jumped to his feet, evading her. He couldn’t bear for her to try to comfort him, not when he didn’t deserve it.

  “It is true,” he said, crossing to the fireplace. He glanced at her, noting the way she shivered, and then tossed a log from the wicker basket onto the burning embers. After he got the flames roaring again, he straightened to face her.

  “What happened to the woman?” she asked.

  “I killed her.”

  Although Vivien’s face paled, her expression changed very little. “I understand. You had no other choice.”

  He took two strides to reach her. “You understand nothing,” he growled, grabbing her naked shoulders. “A man in my line of work cannot afford emotional involvements. He cannot fall in love and have a family. It would make him vulnerable, like John. It would make me vulnerable, and I would make mistakes. Probably fatal mistakes.”

  Her eyes spit blue fire. “Are you comparing me to John’s woman? A French spy and a murderess?”

  “Of course not!” He gave her a gentle shake. “Don’t you see? It’s what I feel that’s the problem. When I’m with you, I can barely think. Emotions are a liability. They’re dangerous. You’re dangerous to me, and I’m dangerous to you.”

  Her mouth flattened into a mulish line. “I do not accept that. I’ve never been so safe or happy as when I’m with you—despite the horrible circumstances.”

  He felt his mouth twist into a sneer. “Tell that to poor Jem.”

  She flinched in his grasp, and he let her go. He allowed his gaze to drift over her pale, slender beauty one last time, then pivoted on his heel and headed for the door.

  “Aden, wait.”

  The barrier around his heart snapped into place, repelling the aching plea in her voice.

  Barely.

  He glanced over his shoulder. She stood in the middle of the floor, wrapped in her wrinkled sheet like a forlorn, haphazard goddess. The desolation in her eyes almost killed him. But when she started to speak he held up a restraining hand. “I’m sorry, Vivien. It’s over.”

  As he shut the door behind him, he told himself it was for the best—for both of them.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Aden wearily climbed the stairs to Dominic’s study after twenty-four hours on the road from St. Clement, with only his frustrated thoughts for company. But despite the continuous haring about in his brain, he remained convinced he’d made the right decision. Vivien would be safe with Dominic’s guards surrounding her, and he would be better off away from her seductive pull.

  The terse note he’d left explaining his sudden departure would infuriate her, but there was little to be gained in belaboring the points he’d made their last night together. They had no future and the sooner he was out of her life, the better. Vivien would get over him easily enough. She had numerous and perfectly eligible suitors, any one of whom would make a better husband than he would.

  As for him . . . before Vivien, he’d never given his heart to a woman and he never would again. She’d claimed him and he would never be entirely free of those bonds. But there was only one thing he could do for her now—find the evidence necessary to send Khovansky back to his cold Russian lair and allow Vivien to return to her rightful place in society.

  He stood for a moment at the study door, cudgelling his thoughts into order. His chief wouldn’t be happy that he’d returned to London, but Aden had played babysitter long enough. It was time to bring this dangerous game to an end, and he couldn’t do that while cooling his heels in some godforsaken village up north.

  When he finally opened the door he pulled up short, frowning at the sight of Dominic in close conversation with Griffin Steele, the remains of a breakfast tray on a low table between them. His chief looked up, a wintry expression collecting in his green gaze.

  “The prodigal son returns,” Dominic said. “Imagine my surprise to receive your note telling me you were abandoning your post.”

  Aden ignored the bait, instead nodding curtly to his cousin. “Griffin, how odd to see you at breakfast. A little early for you to be about, isn’t it?”

  Griffin leaned back in his chair and gave him a raffish grin. “You might think so, especially considering the delectable little pigeon I was forced to leave in my bed, but your superior’s note was rather persuasive.” He gave Dominic a smile that bordered on the malicious. “In fact, he ordered me to appear immediately. If I weren’t such a trusting fellow, I do believe I would even consider t
he tone of the note to be rather threatening.”

  Dominic cast Griffin a derisive glance. “I simply gave you a little incentive. If there’s anything I’ve come to realize over the years it’s that you are a tad reluctant to inconvenience yourself, no matter how urgent the cause.”

  Griffin lifted a lazy shoulder. “Guilty as charged. I find it difficult to imagine exerting myself for any reason other than naked self-interest. Of course, when my dear cousin’s well-being is at stake, I am always willing to make an exception.”

  Aden scoffed. “I’m sure. What the hell are you doing here, anyway?”

  “One might ask the same of you,” Dominic said darkly as he sat down behind his desk. “I sent for Griffin as soon as I received your note.”

  “You see, dear boy,” Griffin said, “I’ve recently come into receipt of some very interesting information. Dominic thought it best if I told you myself.”

  “I was about to send an express to you in St. Clement when your note reached me,” Dominic said. “I only hope it’s not too late to put effective safeguards in place.”

  A stab of alarm shafted through Aden’s chest. “Are we speaking of information about Vivien?”

  Dominic ignored his question, casting a critical eye over him. “You look the very devil, Aden. When was the last time you slept? And when did you arrive in London, anyway?”

  Aden resisted the impulse to curse. “Just a few hours ago. I travelled straight from St. Clement by post-chaise, although I did stop at my rooms for an hour to change.” His impatience got the better of him. “Which I told you in the note I sent round.”

  “Yes, your note, which failed to explain the reasons for your return.” Dominic waved an irritated hand at Aden’s incipient protest. “You can tell me all about it, but first get yourself a cup of coffee and sit down.”