Black Widow: A Spellbound Regency Novel

by Lucy Leroux

  The casual endearment nearly derailed her argument. She cleared her throat and stood her ground.

  “If the monster wanted me dead, I would be dead,” she declared firmly. “It has had ample opportunity to do away with me. Nothing occurred the entire year I spent in mourning. It wasn’t until I returned to society that this nightmare began.”

  She put her hands on his chest. “Gideon. It doesn’t want to kill me. It wants me to be alone. You’re the one who will die if you continue to associate with me.”

  Gideon’s jaw went slack as he followed her reasoning. But then he blinked, stubbornly jutting his chin out. “No. This must be part of Sir Clarence’s plan. He’s trying to force your hand. He wants you to marry Cannonburry. You told me so yourself. I would have confirmation of that now if Sir Clarence was still in town. The minute he returns, I’ll beat the truth from him.”

  Amelia wanted to scream in frustration. Though there had been occasions when she wished ill for her authoritarian guardian, she knew Gideon would only be worsening the situation if he stooped to such violence.

  “I would sooner marry Cannonburry than let anything happen to you.”

  The words were out before she could even think about them. If she’d spared a second to consider Gideon’s reaction, she would have never uttered them.

  She couldn’t see much detail beyond the outline of his features in the dim light, but she didn’t need a candle to know how he was reacting. The very air around them heated and seemed to vibrate. Amelia felt as if she had stumbled upon a predator in his lair, possibly a bear.

  Holding her breath, she cautiously began to retreat. Gideon’s arm shot out, yanking her against him.

  “Don’t even think about such a thing.”

  She struggled against his hold. “Damn it, Gideon! Can’t you see I’m trying to save your life? What more do you want from me?”

  “Everything. I want everything.”

  His lips came down on hers, hard and demanding as his arms wrapped around her, pulling until she was pressed against him, the tips of her breasts rubbing against his chest through the thin cloth of her bodice.

  Gideon’s kiss was like a fire blasting through her, burning away her resolve. Her willpower crumbled to dust against the intensity of his desire. She felt almost battered by the force of it, and the almost violent response of her own passion.

  Hanging onto the last thread of her resistance, she pushed away. “No—we mustn’t.”

  Breath harsh, he tugged her to the left, pinning her against the wall of the salon. “You want me as much as I want you.”

  It was a statement of fact, irrefutable. Amelia couldn’t lie to him even as much as she wanted to.

  “No one can know,” she decided.

  That demand was not well received. His hand slashed the air. “Amelia, you’re nonsensical. We’re about to be married.”

  “No, we are not. Not until this is over and we find the person or—or thing—behind all this.”

  “Am—”

  “Promise me.” She threw herself against him. “No one can know about the two of us until it’s over.”

  Despite what he believed, Amelia knew in her heart his life depended on this—and she was not above pleading. She would beg if she had to.

  The monster behind this was not all knowing. That would be too much to bear, but there was no evidence that was the case. Whoever was bedeviling her was acting and reacting to what he or she observed.

  If Gideon wouldn’t forsake her, then their liaison would have to remain a secret for his protection.

  The earl looked up at the ceiling as if asking the heavens for patience. She knew he was marveling over her stubborn attachment to a belief he viewed as an irrational and superstitious conclusion.

  “If you don’t promise me, I’ll run off to Gretna Green with Lord Cannonburry, my hand to God.”

  Her blasphemy amused him. “Cannonburry can’t run anywhere, love.”

  Amelia tugged at the lapels of his tailcoat. Tears threaded through her voice. “Do not laugh at me.”

  Gideon instantly sobered. “I will do as you ask on one condition.”

  She wiped surreptitiously at one cheek, hoping he hadn’t noticed the tear in the dimness. “What is it?”

  “You are not to sacrifice your safety for mine or anyone else’s. No more haring off on your own. Even if the ton believes you to be unattached, you must consent to be guarded day and night, even if you are moving about socially.”

  “Gideon, you can’t escort me about town. It would defeat the entire purpose.”

  “Then take your maid and footmen when appropriate. If it’s necessary to attend a ball, notify me in advance and I’ll be there as well, or Clarke if it pleases you. Even if I can’t be with you, I can still watch over you from a distance. And you never sleep alone at night. I will be with you if I can help it—otherwise, your maid must sleep in your room.”

  This was like arguing with a brick wall. “You know very well you can’t share my bed. Not when the creature enters my room to watch me sleep. And I can’t subject Carlotta to that kind of danger. I’m sending her away, along with most of the staff. If I need help with the household duties, I will hire day servants—only I will sleep there after dark.”

  Gideon sighed heavily, but he didn’t acknowledge the wisdom of her plans. “There’s one more thing you must agree to.”

  Good God, there was more? “What is it?”

  His hand rose to trace the line of her jaw. “Once this perceived danger passes, you will marry me with all haste.”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to agree, but she checked herself.

  Gideon did not appreciate her hesitation. He leaned over her. “Promise me,” he ordered, throwing back her words at her.

  “If the danger has truly passed, then yes, I will marry you.”

  She could see his mouth curve just before he kissed her again. This time, she willingly melted into his embrace, grateful for the privacy of this small unused salon.

  Amelia expected more of his potently drugging kisses. But suddenly, Gideon bent down on one knee. For a moment, she thought he was going to formally declare for her hand—up until the moment he tossed the hem of her skirt up.

  “My lord! What are you doing?”

  In fact, what he was up to was obvious. Gideon burrowed under her skirts, parting her legs and throwing one of them over his shoulder.

  “Gideon, we are at a ball!”

  She shivered as his busy hands ran up her stockings, stroking the bare skin between her garters.

  His touch was sure and devilishly possessive. Amelia held on to his shoulders as he pushed her legs further apart to accommodate him. Cotton rent as he ruthlessly tore the slit in her drawers wider, exposing her most secret flesh to him.

  Gideon’s hands pinned her against the wall. She couldn’t see his face under her skirts, but she could feel his smile against her before his lips parted. His tongue and fingers rubbed and licked, quickly establishing a rhythm that stole her breath.

  Amelia moaned, dark pulsing pleasure rolled through her as little flames licked and bit at her sex. She made one last weak effort to push him away, but it was no more effective than melted candle wax. “Gideon, we must stop.”

  His grip tightened. Teeth bit down gently on her straining pearl. Her broken gasp of ecstasy became a moan. Amelia had to focus what little strength she had on remaining upright. Hips pistoning reflexively, she held onto his shoulders as two of his fingers delved inside her. Then the pattern changed. It was as if his fingers were searching for something, but she didn’t know what.

  Enlightenment came with a throb of pleasure. Gideon worked a magical little spot while his tongue lathed the pearl at the top of her sex over and over until she convulsed.

  Amelia slid down the wall, limp and replete. The only thing she felt—was aware of—were those last throbs of velvet pleasure still echoing through her body.

  It was the feel of Gideon’s harsh breath on her che
ek that brought her back to herself. She was in his arms, still pinned to the wall but now her legs were wrapped around him. His steely cock was probing, pushing at her swollen folds, demanding entrance.

  “Someone will come in,” she whispered, clinging to him. She had to hold on. Without his support, she would have crumpled to the floor.

  His mouth pressed to her cheek and he inhaled, drawing her scent deep into his lungs.

  “I locked the door.” He took her mouth, his tongue plunging deep at the same time as he found her entrance and began to push inside.

  Overwhelmed by his size and strength, Amelia broke off, throwing her head back and gasping as he drove his broad shaft home. She wrapped her arms around him, holding on for dear life as he withdrew and then thrust back home.

  Nothing should feel that good. Trembling, Amelia gasped, biting down on his neck.

  He laughed, appearing to enjoy her response. “That’s it, love. You can take me now. Take all of me.”

  His words—the plaintive desperate note buried deep in his authoritarian demand—stoked the fire higher. She shuddered and pulled him into a deep kiss while he continued to move within her, rocking her into the wall.

  Clamping down on him, she fought to hold him tight, fighting him as he pushed in as if to prove her will was a match for his. Gideon groaned and flexed, his grip on her legs and hips tightening. He moved with greater determination, thrusting deeper and faster until he had to move his hand to protect her head from being slammed against the wall.

  Pinned helplessly, Amelia accepted his thrusts, crying out when his rhythm stuttered and broke. His hips ground into her one last time, pushing her over the edge into a violent and blinding orgasm. Inside her, he jerked, spilling his seed in hard jets.

  This time, it was Gideon who crumpled weakly. He’d poured every bit of his strength and vitality into her. She took it, absorbed it, cradling it and him to her like a precious gift.

  Gideon seemed surprised when he came to on the floor. By then, she had rearranged her clothing and repaired her coiffure. Her drawers were a total loss, so she’d stuffed them into her beaded reticule.

  “Where are you going?” he asked, lifting his head from the floor when she made for the door.

  Amelia stood straight, trying to project a strength of will and determination she did not actually possess.

  “Home,” she said firmly. “Don’t follow me. From this moment on, I sleep alone.”

  She waited for his acknowledgment and agreement, but neither came. Instead, he just grinned, a flash of white in the darkness. Amelia decided to retreat before he recovered enough to argue with her.

  If they did, she would lose and he knew it.

  Gideon waited until Sir Clarence was close enough to strangle before striking the match and lighting the taper on the side table.

  “Hello, Uncle.”

  A red-faced and bleary-eyed Clarence whirled to face him, almost losing his balance in the process. “What? What are you doing here, boy?”

  He stumbled to the bed against the wall in the spare, but elegantly appointed room.

  Gideon resisted the urge to wrinkle his nose as a waft of stale wine breath hit him. “I’ve been waiting for you. For several weeks, in fact.”

  “Eh?” Sir Clarence, obviously relaxed, hiccupped and patted his paunch. “Oh, well…been out of town. I have many business interests. Things to attend to…”

  Gideon had to strain to hear those last words. Sir Clarence was slurring. He pushed him onto the bed before the portly man fell over.

  Would thrashing a drunk man be a stain on his honor?

  “I called on you several times these weeks past, only to be told by the charming Mrs. Spencer that you were away. She didn’t know where. None of your friends knew either. I even sent a man to your Northumberland estate. Imagine my surprise to learn you’ve been sleeping here in your club for the last week, instead of your comfortable townhouse.”

  One of the few I don’t happen to be a member of…

  “Hmm,” Sir Clarence hummed, his heavy lids drifting down.

  Gideon leaned over and yanked out one of his protruding nose hairs. Sir Clarence yelped, sitting up straight.

  “As I was saying,” Gideon continued as if there was no interruption. “No one knew where you were. I believe Mrs. Spencer was becoming quite annoyed with me toward the end there.”

  Seemingly confused as to what had happened Clarence rubbed his face with the palm of his hand. “S’bit annoyed with me too. Tis why I’m sleeping here.”

  Gideon nodded understandingly. The hesitation in the elder’s manner that followed the nose-hair yank dissipated and he slumped again, clearly not recognizing the threat across from him.

  Sir Clarence coughed and spat on the floor next to the bed. He stretched. “Um-hum, well, thank you for checking in on me.”

  Gideon’s smile grew several degrees colder. “I’m afraid my motive is not so altruistic. I’m actually here to threaten your life, my dear uncle.”

  Sir Clarence blinked and cocked his head at him. “Sorry?”

  In a snap, Gideon hauled the older man to his feet. “The only reason I don’t kill you where you stand is because you didn’t rape her all those years ago.”

  Clarence was sober now. His hands scrabbled against Gideon’s grip. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, blinking, then contradicted himself. “Whatever Amelia’s told you—”

  “It wasn’t her. Amelia never speaks about her time in your home. I think she prefers to let the past lie.” He lifted Clarence off his toes. “I am not so generous.”

  Despite his precarious position, his relative’s bone-deep sense of superiority was undaunted. “I’ve done nothing wrong,” he spat. “I gave that girl a home! I provided for her—a cit’s daughter no less.”

  Gideon scoffed. “One worth a fortune. Amelia insists it’s the reason behind this ridiculous attempt to strong-arm her into a marriage with that doddering old fool Cannonburry. But we both know what is really behind it. Is Cannonburry really so desperate for an heir he’ll overlook someone else fathering it?”

  Releasing his uncle, Gideon gave him a little push, sending him crashing onto the bed.

  “Save your excuses and explanations. I have the whole picture now—save for one piece.” He inhaled and released it slowly. “Did you have anything to do with Martin’s death?”

  Clarence’s mouth went slack. He sputtered incoherently, whiskers quivering, before finding his tongue. “How dare you suggest I had anything to do with that! My own son.”

  Gideon studied him carefully, drawing on all his knowledge of interrogation and dissimulation. Drunk or no, the indignation was genuine. He bent to meet Clarence’s eyes on the same level.

  “Then the mysterious man you hired to terrorize Amelia—the giant who leaves behind clay shards—he’s not the same one who threw Martin down the stairs?”

  Sir Clarence blinked at him. “No, that’s not right. My boy fell down the stairs. Tripped on the runner,” he whispered.

  Gideon noticed he didn’t deny the charge someone was intimidating Amelia at his behest, but this was confusing. The suggestions that Martin’s death was not an accident elicited a reaction of surprise and shock…perhaps even pain.

  Though he could never be called a warm or loving parent, Sir Clarence had some paternal regard for Martin, if only because he was an only child and a son.

  Less certain now about his accusations, Gideon continued. “The damage was too great for a simple fall. I spoke to one of the witnesses who heard it happen. Martin’s body was found too far from the bottom of the stairs, too far unless he’d been hurled by someone very strong. This same someone left large and deep impressions in the carpet and traces of brown dust—probably clay.”

  His uncle reddened. “You’re lying! There was no dust. It was a simple accident. Trying to imply anything else is disgraceful, a sham.”

  Clarence slashed at the air, pointing an accusing finger at Gideon. �
�You’re just trying to deflect from your scandalous affair with your cousin’s widow.” He waited for a reaction before making a fist. “Oh, yes, I know all about it. Tongues are wagging all over town. I can’t even escape it here in my own club. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you had…”

  He stopped short and lapsed into a sullen silence.

  “That I rid myself of Martin so I could be with Amelia? Why would that have even been necessary? It’s not like theirs was a true marriage,” he pointed out. “Additionally, you are well aware I was abroad at the time of his death.”

  Gideon crossed his arms and looked down his nose at the older man. “Fortunately, you don’t need to concern yourself with the rumors. The furor will die down once Amelia and I are married.”

  Sir Clarence’s head snapped up. “But you can’t!”

  “I assure you I can. Furthermore, I want to.”

  “But you’re a bloody earl now. Think of your title. You can’t marry a cit’s daughter.”

  “I can do whatever I damn well please. As it happens, I am marrying a lady. A loving and generous one.”

  “Men in your position don’t marry for love! They marry unstained virgins fresh out of the schoolroom, well-dowered chits of good breeding.”

  “My bride has enough natural grace and breeding for the both us.”

  And until he got his hands on her, she’d been as pure as the driven snow.

  “Pffaw. That hardly matters.” Sir Clarence said. “She’s a bloody widow and a tradesman’s get. It’s simply not the done thing.”

  Gideon was getting tired of the circuitous argument. “Nevertheless, I am marrying Amelia, and soon. I just stopped by to give you fair warning—cease this pointless harassment. Stop trying to draw Amelia into your sordid arrangements. She is out of your reach now.”

  Sir Clarence’s eyes flicked away. “Told you. I don’t have an arrangement with Cannonburry. As for these other accusations‚ I know nothing about them.”

  Gideon should have expected the pugnacious reply, but it still irked him. He leaned close, forcing Sir Clarence to draw back until his shoulders touched the wall on the other side of the bed.