‘There’s no guarantee this will work,’ Lilya interrupted.
‘You don’t listen very well, do you?’ Beldon’s eyes were dangerously dark. ‘We might as well try this. Running won’t work at all except to get yourself followed. That can hardly be what you wish.’
‘And marriage is what I wish?’
Exasperation was evident on his features. ‘Stop pretending you aren’t attracted to me, Lilya. You’ll like being married to me. You’ve been flirting with me since we met.’
‘I beg your pardon. I hardly know you when all is said and done.’ She rose up, trying for a dignified exit, trying to hide the truth behind a façade of offended hurt. She probably would like being married to him in some regards, if their kiss was any indicator. ‘For the record, I have not been flirting. If anyone’s been flirting, it’s been you,’ she shot back. ‘With your hand kissing, and touching my arm just so, and—’ She broke off.
‘You mean like this?’ His voice was low and private, sending a warm thrill straight to her belly as his finger traced light circles on the back of her gloved hand. ‘And like this?’ His hand moved up her arm in a feathery touch that sent all nature of skittering delights shooting through her. His fingers found the tiny buttons of her long glove, deftly slipping them through their loops, but his eyes were riveted on her face, not once looking at the progress of his hands. His eyes darkened to the shade of midnight as he peeled the glove down her wrist.
‘Imagine what I could do to that gown of yours,’ he whispered, removing the last of the glove.
A delicious tremor took her as his lips found the inside of her wrist, her mind wild with vivid conjurings, of his hands on more than her glove, his mouth on more than her wrist, of his hands on her shoulders, pushing down her gown until she was bared before him. He pressed a kiss to the palm of her hand and a gasp of pleasure escaped her.
She was supposed to resist this, but it was so hard. Who’d have thought it would be like this? No one had ever told her a kiss, a mere touch, could render her senseless to the dangers of her world. It was much harder to resist the temptations of love once she’d experienced them than to resist the unknown. She hadn’t known what she was giving up.
She tugged, but Beldon was unwilling to let her go. ‘You haven’t forgotten our kiss, have you?’ Helplessly, she shook her head. He was drawing her close again, close to his strength, the power of his body, the power of surrender. His lips found her mouth, already parted, already begging for him whether she willed it or not. His tongue played sensuously along her bottom lip and she gave herself over to the delights he promised. Resistance was futile, for the moment. And, for the moment, that was fine with her.
In his arms, she could pretend a great many things. Passion was not one of them—that was genuine. Oh Lord, that was genuine. He was in her mouth now, teasing and tempting, the sweet taste of after-supper brandy lingering on his tongue, and she was pressed to him, revelling in the hard masculine planes of him. His mouth trailed kisses down her throat, a hand moving to gather up the fullness of her skirts until she could feel the warm night air on her thighs. She gasped at the decadence he’d awakened in her.
‘You rouse to me, Lilya. There’s no shame in it,’ he murmured, husky tones indicating she was not the only one aroused. His hand swept up the curve of her leg and halted.
‘What do we have here?’
Her dagger. She’d forgotten, entirely.
He ably removed the dagger from the sheath and held it to the dim light, his eyes meeting hers, glinting as dangerously as the sharp edge of her knife.
The passion ebbed.
‘The diamond is not a game.’ How she wished it was. How she wished she could reach out and claim the man who stood before her, the remnants of their interlude evident in his ragged breath, his rumpled hair. Had she done that? She hadn’t realised… How she wished Beldon had proposed to her out of love, that he’d kissed her for a reason other than to make a point. Passion was powerful, but it wasn’t love and she was not foolish enough to mistake it.
‘I never thought it was,’ Beldon answered grimly, passing the blade back to her. ‘You won’t need this after we marry. I’ll protect you then, with my name, and, if necessary, with my body.’
Such powerful words. An irrational thrill of hope rose within her; hope that this time it could be different, hope that perhaps there was something more behind his offer of marriage than duty. Hope that she wasn’t on the brink of repeating her father’s mistakes. A little bit of hope went a long way.
She’d meant to persuade him to call off the engagement tonight. Instead, he’d been the one to do the convincing. She let him lead her back inside on to the dance floor and into the familiar patterns of a waltz. She understood what returning to the ballroom meant. It meant their engagement was implicitly sealed. There would be no backing out now. It meant she believed. In him. Oh God, how she wanted to believe in this broad-shouldered man whose aloof demeanour hid an extraordinary capacity for passion, whose commitment to right demanded an adherence to duty and honour at any cost. Most of all, she wanted to believe her folly would not see him dead.
Chapter Eleven
She didn’t believe him! It galled him to the very core of his being as a gentleman. Even the morning after the Forthby ball he found her lack of trust maddening. A night’s sleep hadn’t changed that. He’d pledged his protection and she had not believed he could deliver it. He’d seen it in her eyes even as she gave evidence to the contrary.
Beldon heaped a plate full of sausages and toast and sat down in the breakfast room of Pendennys House. The town house was quiet after his brief tenure at Valerian’s, perhaps too quiet. Here, he was the only resident. A glance at the wall clock told him they’d all be sitting down to breakfast over there, too. At Val’s there’d be chatter at the table. Philippa would be discussing politics with Val or the daily social calendar with Lilya, or perhaps the wedding.
His wedding.
He’d come to London to find a wife. Technically, he supposed he’d accomplished his goal. He’d not imagined it happening this way or with Lilya of all people, but he’d be going home with a wife, the next Lady Pendennys, the mother of his children, the co-keeper of his dreams. He hoped Lilya was up to it. Truth was, he just didn’t know. He’d always thought he’d know, that it would be clear that he’d chosen well.
The last thing he’d thought he’d do was choose impulsively, throwing his vaunted criteria to the proverbial winds. But when the moment had come, he had recognised with a sudden clarity he knew he could not give her up to another for the simple expediency of outwitting Christoph Agyros. And she would not have settled for anyone else. He’d seen it in her eyes. She’d meant it when she’d said she wouldn’t implicate an unwitting husband in the plot. If it had been any other man, she would have run. So he’d offered himself. But his offering was not purely selfless. She fired his blood like no other, arousing him, challenging him, meeting him as an equal in all ways both mentally and physically. Her sense of honour went as deeply as his. She understood the importance of family. And she was honest in her passion. Just remembering their heated encounter in the Forthby garden was enough to cause the stirrings of his arousal. She’d been liquid fire in his arms, melting into him, igniting beneath his touch even though that hadn’t been her intention. He knew precisely what she’d meant to do in the garden when he’d dragged her from the ballroom, and it hadn’t been kissing him. She’d meant to get him to break the engagement.
It was something of a victory that she hadn’t even got close to succeeding with her gambit. But it was only a partial victory. She believed in the dagger strapped to her thigh more than she believed in his abilities to protect her. Admittedly, there was something deliciously arousing about a woman with a dagger beneath her skirts, but he didn’t want his wife, his woman, to ever have to actually use it. A woman should be safe with her man.
And Lilya would be. Even now, the ploy was working.
Agyros had d
isappeared from society events since the night he’d been caught upstairs at Val’s. Still, Beldon was a cautious man. He didn’t mean to be far from Lilya’s side until he could slip a ring on her finger. The sooner they were married the better. Marriage would not only remove her from Agyros’s clutches and the threat of forced elopement, it would also offer her the legal protection of his name. Beldon pushed back from the table, making plans for his day. He’d stop by Val’s and see if Lilya wanted to go to Hatchard’s. It was as good a reason as any for keeping her close.
An hour later, he helped Lilya into his phaeton after promising Philippa to have her to the dressmaker’s in time for a fitting of her wedding dress. The day was fine and some of the tension between them had eased. Once they were married, he was convinced the tension would cease entirely as they got to know each other under more normal circumstances.
The street in front of Hatchard’s was busy and Beldon had to angle for a space to leave his tiger with the phaeton. He jumped down and went to assist Lilya. She stumbled on a rough piece of cobblestone when he set her down and he righted her. She laughed up at him, making light of her momentary clumsiness. This was the real Lilya, this beautiful, laughing woman.
For the moment her thoughts weren’t filled with the diamond, weren’t filled with fears for herself or for those around her. He would see to it that this woman emerged in her fullness. Not that he didn’t also care for the Lilya who guarded the diamond. He did. He admired that woman, too; she was brave and courageous beyond measure. But that woman deserved peace. She deserved the right to lay down her burden and enjoy her life.
They had spent a delightful afternoon perusing the new books. Beldon had placed an order for the library at Pendennys, then it was time to meet Philippa at the dressmaker’s.
He was boosting Lilya up into the high seat of the phaeton when it happened. A small boy, an urchin with grubby cheeks, ran up to him in the busy street. ‘Are you Lord Pendennys? I have sumthin’ for you.’ He thrust a grimy sheet of paper at Beldon and tried to run away, but Beldon’s reflexes were quicker. He held the boy by his collar.
‘Who gave you this?’ he demanded, scanning the perimeter of the street, well aware that Lilya was already standing up in the phaeton doing the same thing, a hand no doubt sliding towards her knife. His own view was limited by the position of the carriage and the busy traffic around him. For the first time, he felt his own vulnerability. In a press like this, he’d not see anyone coming until they were too close.
‘I’m not to say. Lemme go.’ The boy squirmed furiously beneath Beldon’s hand.
‘Let him go,’ Lilya called, sitting down on the seat. ‘Agyros didn’t come himself. We’d never recognise the culprit.’
Beldon turned the boy loose and climbed up next to Lilya. ‘What does it say?’
Lilya unfolded the paper and Beldon watched her hands tremble. She swallowed hard. Both of them had a good idea what the note would say. It would be a threat, of course. But knowing that didn’t lessen the impact of reading the words scrawled on the page.
‘May I see it?’ Beldon asked tersely when she had enough time to digest the note. He gave the paper a rapid scan, his mouth taking on a grim line. ‘The diamond in exchange for the safety of the family.’
Beldon saw the strategy at once. The note had been vague on purpose. In this case, the vague threat was the most potent. The note had not specified which family member, only that one family member would be taken in place of the diamond if she didn’t turn the diamond over to Christoph Agyros by midnight tomorrow. It was rather bold of him to assume she had the diamond in her possession.
‘It could be any one of you.’ She fought the note of panic rising in her voice. ‘What if…’ her voice faltered ‘…what if Agyros has someone in Cornwall? What if they’ve taken Constantine or the baby?’ Her nine-year-old brother and Valerian’s one-year-old son had been left at the estate. They’d been deemed too young for a trip to London.
Beldon gripped her hands tightly. He felt her steady under his touch. He shook his head. ‘It is doubtful. Agyros has no way to communicate with Cornwall. The estate is four days away and he’s only given us a day to respond.
Lilya drew a deep breath. ‘Then it’s to be one of you,’ she said quietly.
‘I think he may find us less compliant than he expects. It would be rather hard to subdue Val or me.’
She turned wide eyes in his direction, his logic raising a greater alarm. ‘That’s just it. Christoph and his henchmen, if he has any, have to know you and Val would put up a struggle, and quite possibly a struggle he and his men might lose. Which means it is not out of the realm of possibility that Christoph hasn’t limited his use of the word “taken” to a mere kidnapping.’
Beldon chirped to his team and shook the reins, moving into traffic with grim determination. He wanted to reach the dressmaker’s and Philippa with all due haste. That wedding dress needed to be done in record time.
Later, Lilya would not remember much of the afternoon, only that Beldon made all the arrangements and never left her side. Her world was a haze full of undefined images as the carriage drove her to the dressmaker and then home to Val’s town house. Her own thoughts were consumed with what to do next. Either Val or Beldon was at risk and if she were to wager on it, she’d guess it was Beldon Christoph would come for.
Beldon was a whirlwind of plans by the time they reached the town house. Lilya let them plan. They had their own protection to think about now. She became aware that Beldon and Valerian were locked in heated debate.
‘Val, you are to go with Philippa,’ Beldon insisted. ‘Just because Agyros can’t pose a threat to the children in Cornwall tonight, doesn’t mean he won’t use the children later when he’s had time to get into position.’
‘You’ll need me here,’ Val protested.
‘Your wife will need you there. Your duty is to your family,’ Beldon argued fiercely.
Lilya saw a chance to protect them all. She raised her voice above the argument. ‘You should go with them, Beldon.’ It would be best this way. If they were safely off to protect her brother, she could slip out of the city and be gone. Beldon would only hear of her disappearance after it became too late to follow her. It would give him a way to honourably break the engagement. Surely he would see it was for the best.
Beldon was a study of disbelief. ‘And what of you? I cannot leave you to face Agyros’s machinations alone. Besides, we’ve discussed this before and you know my thoughts.’
It took all of Lilya’s courage to face Beldon and say, ‘I’ve managed to thwart him before this. I will continue to do so. My family’s legacy demands it. Your place is with your family. The engagement ruse has not succeeded as we hoped. We must opt for Plan B.’
Beldon was not easily dismissed. His eyes flashed a stubborn challenge and it seemed to Lilya that a momentous decision had been reached somewhere in his head and he would not be swayed from it. ‘Which is why we must be married with all haste in Cornwall. He will not dare to cross the wife of a peer. Write to him and tell him you do not have the diamond. When he hears of the wedding, perhaps he’ll believe it.
‘You do see this is your only chance? Lilya, you’ve worried so much about the rest of us, you haven’t thought of yourself. He means to see you dead. If you don’t have the diamond, you’re expendable. If you do have the diamond, you’ll live only long enough to give it to him. You’ll barter it in the hope of saving one of us or yourself, but he will not honour any agreement.’
In her periphery, she saw Val and Philippa slip from the room, leaving them their privacy. She wondered just how much Beldon had told Val about their relationship.
‘You are right to send Val with Philippa,’ she said after they’d gone. ‘But it’s not him Christoph is after. It’s you—Christoph means to use you against me.’
‘I thought as much.’ Beldon was all cool nonchalance, but his eyes burned with unmistakable desire.
She
’d hoped her pronouncement would stun some reality into him. A man hunted him. A man wanted him dead because of his association with her. Surely that would put some modicum of fear into any rational being.
‘Christoph is not fooling around. This is not an idle threat. Men have hunted the diamond across centuries. He has been sent by such people and he will not stop because one man stands in his way,’ Lilya warned.
‘Neither will I.’ Beldon’s hands were firm on her shoulders, warm and confident. ‘I will not be thwarted because one man stands in my way.’ He nipped gently at her ear lobe, his breath feathering erotically. ‘I think Agyros will find I am not easy to kill. I wish you would believe me.’ He knew her too well, he knew too well the path to the least of her resistance. His kisses were her weakness.
He tipped her head up, his mouth taking hers in a slow kiss. She sank into it, letting him trail kisses down her neck, revelling in the feel of his hand cupping the swell of her breast, his thumb teasing her nipple beneath the fabric. She moaned, thoroughly aroused by the boldness of his seduction, taking her to the fringe of the pleasure that awaited them if she dared—no, when she dared—to venture further.
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