“I followed him last night.”
Only then did he dare glance up, to see Sussex’s grey eyes narrowed and fixed firmly upon him. How much like his sister he looked, with the same coloured eyes glaring at him.
“It’s the truth of why I cried off with Georgiana last evening.”
“And what purpose did you have to follow him?”
“You are not the only one possessed of good instincts, Sussex.”
The duke relaxed a bit, settling his large frame in the leather chair, and waited for Iain to share the tale. “Well?
Did you discover anything of worth?”
“Our guts seem infallible, for his activity last evening raised more questions than answers.” Sussex pressed forward again, his expression dark.
“Explain.”
“I followed him to the museum.”
“He’s lived in the East all his life. Perhaps he had a longing to visit a decayed mummy. You know, home sickness and all that.”
Iain did not care for Sussex’s sarcasm. He was wound tightly this afternoon, and was in no mood to humour the duke. “It was well after closing time. What’s more, someone was watching for his approach, because he had hardly rapped upon the doors when they were opened, allowing him entrance.”
“Interesting.”
“He was carrying a canvas satchel.”
“I wonder what was in it?” Sussex said, already know- ing that Iain would have discovered the contents of the bag.
“Drawings of elevations, scrolls of them. And what is more, on one of them there was an image of a Templar cross, and beside it, most curiously, was the Cross Lorraine.”
Sussex sat back in his chair, and Iain could almost see the duke’s brain processing the information. “A coincidence, perhaps. The Templar cross is quite common. A romantic symbol that many use.”
“On sketches of elevations? That’s a stretch, isn’t it?” Sussex frowned. “I suppose, but hardly enough to condemn him.”
“There’s more. In his study, housed in a pendulum clock, was a rolled piece of parchment that was hidden beneath a false bottom.”
“You broke into the man’s house!” Iain sent the duke a look of annoyance. “I don’t do things by half measures. You know that. Of course I searched his house. But he returned before I could discover what the paper was. But it was hidden for a purpose.”
“Damn it, Alynwick, you take too many risks!”
“And you don’t? Allowing Elizabeth to be…” God, the word courted would just not form on his tongue “… to be visited by a man we know nothing about. A man whose appearance back in Society leaves me more than suspicious, especially since the arrival of this Orpheus, and all the other inexplicable things that have happened. Damn it, Sussex, admit it, you’ve been blinded by your desire for Lucy, and now things have gone too far.”
“You’re taking things too far, Alynwick.”
“We’ve not been suspicious enough.”
“Your focus should be on Lady Larabie, and getting close to this Orpheus. You’re the one who came up with the damn plan, who informed us that the lady knew him personally. Orpheus is the key to the whole mystery, and it’s the lady’s assistance we need to get close to him.”
“He isn’t the entire mystery, Sussex. Have you forgotten Nigel Lasseter?”
His friend stiffened. “What do you mean?”
“Sutherland was hanging about the theatre yesterday upon my orders. I asked him to watch for Lady Larabie.
I’ve grown suspicious of the witch, and wanted him to discover all he could about her comings and goings. He did not see her, but he did discover Nigel Lasseter going into the theatre, by way of the back alley. Interesting, don’t you think, considering he was the patron who paid for Wendell Knighton’s trek to the Holy City? And now Knighton is dead…. And to enter through the back, as if he owned the place. It was not at night, when the club is in full swing, but during the afternoon….” Releasing an expletive, Sussex wiped his hands over his tired face, then tossed back his head and groaned.
“Another damn puzzle, and yet another piece we are supposed to fit in. You’re right, of course. I’ve lost my per-spective. Damn it! ”
“Love, I suppose, is an immovable force. Even it can supersede Brethren demands and duties. Although I highly doubt our merciless fathers ever allowed the emotion to surpass their love affair with all things Brethren.” Sussex’s gaze flickered to his. There was pain in those grey depths. Naked, haunting pain. Iain couldn’t help but wonder if Sussex saw the same stark misery reflected in his own gaze. “In our fathers’ lives, nothing took precedence. It was always Brethren Guardian duties and honour that came before everything. My pain has made me foolish, so that I don’t think things through as I ought to. I hope my ineptness was not the cause of Anastasia’s death.”
“I doubt you could have prevented it. I’ve sent Sutherland out today to see what he can discover about Nigel Lasseter. I’ve also—” Iain shuddered at the memory
“—sent a missive around to Lady Larabie, who will receive me tonight. Leave it to me, Sussex. Enjoy your new bride for the next few weeks, and when you return I shall have news for you.”
“You will keep your word in regards to Elizabeth?”
“You have it. I will be her constant shadow. No harm will come to her, I vow it.”
“Adrian!” a high-pitched, breathless voice called from the hall. “I must see you. This instant.” Ridiculously, Iain felt his heart jolt, then run wild at the sound of Elizabeth’s exclamation. Shifting his weight in the chair, he was suddenly conscious of the velvet pouch hidden in his breast pocket. He’d nearly forgotten about the necklace he’d purchased for her that morning, and the daydreams he had of placing it around her throat. Now they were back, those intimate, sensual images, and he waited, barely breathing, to watch her make her grand entrance.
What a bloody hopeless sap he’d become.
The door opened, and there she was. Iain sucked in his breath at the sight of her, wind in her sails as she breezed into Sussex’s study on the arm of a footman. Panting and waddling, Rosie struggled to keep up with her mistress.
Elizabeth’s cheeks were pink, her pure skin glowing in the sunlight that streamed through the window. Her voluptuous curves were encased in a dark blue, form-fitting coat edged in black bear fur, her delicate hands covered in black kid leather. In one hand she carried a book, the oxblood-coloured leather spine of which was cracked and peeling with age.
Atop her head she wore a jaunty little hat with blue and black roses, and a beguiling black veil that only added to the sensual mystique of Elizabeth York. Angel on the outside, succubus on the inside. Damn it, how the demon within him wanted her with a ruthless, dangerous need that completely consumed him.
Before he faced death on Grantham Field, Iain had been able to bury that need. To use the savage control and discipline his father had made him acquire to bury his feelings for Elizabeth where they could never be found, or disturb him. But something had changed that night. Like Pandora’s box, the long-ignored feelings had sprung free from their hiding place, bringing chaos and fury, and a sickness that clung to him. Every thought, every decision was made with a purpose to reunite him with Elizabeth.
For the past few days he’d felt as though every breath he took was for her. Always her. Only her.
And now here she was, robbing him of breath and speech, and the brutal self-control that hid everything he was. Elizabeth had done this, taken a wild, snarling wolf and turned him into a damnable, drooling lapdog!
Before, the very idea of allowing himself to fall so easily, to be vulnerable to another human being, would have sent him lashing out, reeling against feeling anything. Surprisingly, he did not feel angered by the fact that Elizabeth had softened his hard edges, but rather he was grateful for it. It had been a long time since he’d allowed himself a modicum of truth in regards to his feelings, but in this, he had to be honest. He had never stopped caring about Lizzy and her well-being. Had neve
r stopped desiring her. Had always loved her, knowing she held nothing inside for him but a seething hatred he all too well deserved.
Iain had always feared his love for her, feared examining his feelings about loving another—so fiercely, and not having the same feeling reciprocated. She could have no idea what it was like to lie in bed at night and ache for another, to love only one other on earth and know that person did not feel anything in return but contempt.
Did she know how lonely he was? Could she imagine his guilt, regret, the hatred he held for himself and his actions twelve years ago? Could she fathom that he, the Mad Marquis, the Aberrant Alynwick, could harbour such deep sentiment, a love that would cross oceans of time, even lifetimes? A love that would never die?
Would she believe him if he told her all this? If he exposed his feelings to her, and in doing so, exposed himself to her ridicule and rejection?
How did one take such hatred and turn it into love?
As she stood before him, he pondered that, questioning how he could take something dark and forbidding and make it pure and desirable. He’d give away his fortune, his title, all his earthly possessions for one chance to make Elizabeth see it—his worth. His love.
He didn’t know how to pray. He was not a man of religion and faith, despite his vocation as a Brethren Guardian, but he swallowed hard, closed his eyes and silently pleaded. Please, give me one more chance to earn her forgiveness. Let me love her well, like I should have all those years ago. One more chance at redemption, and I shall do whatever You ask….
“Thank you, Charles,” Elizabeth said, as she excused the footman. “I shall call for you when I am ready to go upstairs.”
“Very good, my lady.” The footman bowed and promptly left. Elizabeth stuck out her hand, indicating that Sussex should relieve her of the book she carried. Unable to help himself, Iain stood, pulled the ancient tome from her hand and said, “Good afternoon, Elizabeth. Might I say, you are looking lovely today.”
The book fell from her fingers when she realized she was not alone with her brother. The little flutter at the base of her throat increased as she smoothed a gloved hand over her midriff, drawing Iain’s gaze, and his lascivious imagination.
“Good day, my lord,” she answered, recovering with admirable aplomb. “Forgive me for interrupting.”
“Your company is always most welcome.” He recovered the book from the floor, scarcely taking his eyes off her, or from the way she was slowly unbuttoning the clasps of her coat, revealing the blue gown she wore beneath.
Sussex was watching him, and unfortunately noting how Iain’s gaze unavoidably slipped to the expanse of bosom that came enticingly into view. Her bodice had a lace insert, with just a hint of flesh showing beneath. It drove him mad, looking at it, wondering what it would be like to pull it out and press his lips to her skin.
Tossing the book onto Sussex’s desk, Iain reached for her hand and assisted her to the chair he had been using.
Then he carefully put distance between them by standing before the window so he could watch her—discreetly, of course.
“Lizzy, at last you’re home. How was your walk?” her brother enquired.
“Wonderful.” She smiled, her breathlessness growing.
“Highly informative.”
“Oh?”
“Who were you walking with?” Iain suddenly de- manded, his voice too authoritative. Sussex shot him a glare, and Iain ignored it.
“Why, Lord Sheldon, of course.” She smiled sweetly as she said the man’s name, and Iain’s vision was suddenly awash in crimson.
“All afternoon?” he said hotly. Damn her, she was a menace to his nerves, and temper.
“It was only for an hour, and Maggie was with us. For heaven’s sake, my lord, I need not answer to you. You are not my brother or my father. You’re…well, nothing to me.”
Oh, how he wanted to stride over to her, lift her out of the chair by her shoulders and remind her just what they had once been to each other.
“Well, then, Lizzy,” Sussex began carefully, sending a questioning glance in Iain’s direction. “What has you rushing in here before you’ve even removed your bonnet?”
Settling herself comfortably in the chair, Elizabeth began removing her gloves, finger by finger. Did the woman not understand how unbearably erotic that was to a man? Iain wanted to throttle her. How easy it was for her to tease him. But it had always been like that, him watching her, studying her from afar and absorbing everything she said, every look, every word, as though she were water and he a lowly sea sponge.
How his father must be laughing in his grave at his weak-willed son. A son he had always accused of not being from his loins. “No son of mine would have such an unnatural affection for a female. You’re weak, boy.
A disgrace.” The mighty Marquis of Alynwick would never allow a woman to break him, or so he had boasted numerous times to Iain. “A woman weakens a man, boy,” he had always claimed. “Never lose your head over them.
You’re in control, not them. Once you give females any power, you’re doomed to having your bollocks forever in their grip.”
He had listened to that misplaced, idiotic advice once before, and it had brought him nothing but years of misery and empty debauchery. His father might have enjoyed living his life in such a way, but Iain could not.
“I have very important news,” Elizabeth announced, her voice suddenly quieting. Iain had to press forward to hear her. “I trust there is no one else here, besides him?” Elizabeth’s pale hand waved negligently toward Iain and the window where he was standing, gripping the sill so tightly his fingers were turning white. The little she devil, what she did to his temper!
“You are at liberty to speak freely, Lizzy. It is only the three of us.”
Nodding, she cleared her throat, straightened her spine and pressed her gloves together before laying them across her lap.
“Were you aware that Lord Sheldon is an archaeologist, brother?”
“No, I was not.”
Sussex sent Iain an odd look, one he ignored as he ground his teeth together. How he loathed knowing she had spent her time with the man, when Iain had done nothing all day but think of her. Think of last evening on the settee, when he had cared for her injuries and whispered all sorts of indecent things to her. And it hadn’t only been him that had been affected. She’d been aroused. But she had rebuffed him despite her body’s obvious response.
“Well, he is. And one of his interests is the Templars.” That made Iain straighten up and listen closely. He and Sussex shared another quick glance, and then the duke said, “Go on.”
“It appears that he spent time in Jerusalem, excavating the catacombs of Temple Mount. He found a cache of Templar coins and jewels. And…” she paused, wet her lips with the tip of her tongue “…a story about three Templars who were charged with the task of removing three sacred relics from the Holy Land.”
“Bloody hell,” Sussex groaned.
Iain could barely contain his own anger. He knew if he railed out against Sheldon, Elizabeth would baulk.
Would take up the bastard and protect him, just to spite Iain. And she had every right to do so.
“Lord Sheldon has not yet discovered the names of the Templars, nor has he discovered what the relics are, although he did say he suspects a chalice might be one of them. And a scroll…” She trailed off.
Sussex groaned again and Iain cursed, while Elizabeth continued.
“And that’s not all. Sheldon knows the story of the fourth Templar, and he believes it’s credible. What is even more alarming is that he has been granted access to the Temple Church at the Inns of Court. He plans on digging up the crypts beneath looking for evidence.”
“I told you I didn’t trust him!” Elizabeth shot a mutinous glare in the general vicin-ity of Iain’s voice. “And I told you to stay out of my affairs, my lord.”
“Affairs, is it?”
She looked away, her cheeks colouring brilliantly. “I believe he
does not know much more than that.”
“Did he ask you questions?” Sussex demanded. “Was he fishing about for anything?”
“No. In fact it was really just a conversation that began because we were talking of our interests. However, I was alarmed enough to come to you. We might very well have a problem, Adrian.”
“Might?” Iain growled. “Good God, there is no might about it. The truth is we have a very great problem.” She sniffed, a sound of pure disdain. “Perhaps we might finish this conversation alone, brother.”
“No, Alynwick stays. He’ll be left here to deal with things after I am married tomorrow. He deserves the right to know it all. And what he might be dealing with.” Reluctantly, Elizabeth nodded, still looking straight ahead though her hands were nervously fidgeting with her gloves. “He has invited me to attend a time or two while he excavates the crypts in Temple Church. Naturally, I accepted.”
“I think not!” Iain exclaimed. “Are you out of your mind?”
“No, indeed. In fact, I am rather firmly planted in it. I do have a brain, my lord, and it functions for other things beyond the commonly accepted female accomplishments.
Naturally—” she turned her head to address Sussex “—I accepted because it will provide me with any information that Sheldon might happen to discover in the crypts.
I can, of course, immediately relate them to you.”
“She’s right, of course,” Sussex muttered. “And if it is all very innocent, Lizzy will not be in any danger.”
“And if it’s not innocent?”
Sussex’s expression went pale, but Elizabeth blithely waved her hand. “It’s a matter of curiosity, I believe. Lord Sheldon is an archaeologist, and the story of the Templars is a very enticing one. He only wants to discover it and solve it.”
Temptation & Twilight Page 17