by Tarah Scott
She wasn't strictly disobeying him—the idea she had to obey rankled beyond reason—after all, she hadn't gone to sleep in her bed. She had decided to tell him that she'd waited up in order to tell him about Clive…and that she remembered what it was that caught her attention when she'd heard his voice. Her aunt's lover was the highwayman who escaped.
The door opened with a quiet click. Phoebe froze, Kiernan's words rolling around in her head "…you will pay the piper. That is me, madam, in case you think otherwise."
By heavens, she was actually trembling. Phoebe inched her head up until she could peek over the top of the couch. Her heart jumped into her throat. The man sitting at the duke's desk wasn't Kiernan.
*****
"He was last seen at the Davenport soirée?" Kiernan asked of Mather as they descended the steps of his club.
"That was the report an hour ago, sir."
"So he is ensuring that witnesses can testify to his whereabouts. Good. And you're sure he knows I was contacted by someone anxious to sell me information about a man who hired him to kill me while in Scotland?"
"Mr. Sykes is known for not keeping a secret. I feel certain he has told Baron Arlington's valet the story."
They reached Kiernan's coach. "Here is where we part ways, Mather."
"I must protest once again, sir. I feel certain your father wouldn't approve of this plan."
Kiernan swung open the carriage door. "No, he wouldn't. In you go."
"I really should go with you."
"We've discussed this," Kiernan said. "I'm an easier target alone. Besides, I have half a dozen officers from the Metropolitan Police on the case."
"A bullet or a knife can find its mark before they police reach you."
"One way or another, Arlington intends to kill me. Then he will force Phoebe to marry him. I can't allow either."
"Your father is sure to send me packing once he learns I not only didn't stop you, but I aided you," he grumbled.
"We won't tell him." Mather still hesitated, and Kiernan laid a hand on his back. "Go on, my friend."
He sighed, but stepped into the carriage. Kiernan closed the door and started down the sidewalk. Ten minutes later, he turned into the nearest gaming hell.
An hour and several whiskies later, Kiernan left the club five hundred pounds poorer than when he entered. The big man sitting in the corner quietly drinking had cast him enough covert glances that Kiernan knew him to be his would-be killer. Kiernan couldn't help a grimace. Phoebe's cousin wasn't taking any chances. He'd hired a man a head taller than Kiernan.
Kiernan began an unsteady walk down the sidewalk. The pad of footsteps followed a moment later, and he was impressed that the big man could tread so lightly. This brigand might be a more practiced killer than Arlington's previous employees. A hansom cab passed. Kiernan flicked the passenger a glance and rubbed his chin as if scratching an itch. The man didn't twitch a muscle, but Kiernan knew he'd seen the signal. Kiernan made a sudden left into one of the appointed alleys. As expected, the footsteps quickened.
Up ahead, yellow lamplight spilled across the cobblestone from around a sharp turn. His assailant would want to catch him before he reached the light. The footsteps grew louder and Kiernan yanked free the pistol stuffed into his waistband, and turned. The man stopped ten feet away. Kiernan glimpsed a glint of metal an instant before the man drew back his hand, knife poised to throw.
Another man stepped into view behind Kiernan's assailant in the instant before Kiernan fired. The killer jerked to the left and hit the wall. Kiernan's mind registered the knife flying through the air toward him and he dove to the right. A shadow fell across his path and another shot blasted. The ping of metal striking metal whizzed an inch past his ear. He hit the ground and rolled. Boots pounded on cobblestone as he shoved to his feet. Two Metropolitan Police officers were yanking the man to his feet. Kiernan turned as two more officers rushed around the bend where Mather stood, his revolver pointed heavenward.
Kiernan scanned the cobblestones and spied the knife a few feet away. He took two steps, scooped up the weapon, and strode to Mather. Kiernan held the knife to the light. A small chip was visible in the hilt.
He looked at Mather. "You always were a good shot."
"A necessity, sir," he replied, and Kiernan knew he meant, you really are a pain in the arse.
*****
Phoebe ducked her head down behind the couch. Her heart thundered. What was Ty doing here? What should she do? She had no weapon, hadn't thought she needed one. If she remained quiet, he might not discover her. Once he left the room, she could alert someone to his presence.
She willed her heart to stop its panicked rhythm and worked to slow her breathing. Ty would be rifling through the duke's desk for one reason only: he believed the duke knew something—no, not the duke, she realized. Kiernan. But what? Her confrontation with Kiernan a few hours ago slammed into her memory. He had taken the Blunderbuss and his father's letter. Surely those items weren't what Ty was looking for. They weren’t incriminating enough for him to risk sneaking into the duke's home, and he couldn't know that she had taken them.
Her cousin had been acting strange of late. She'd seen no dark mood from him as she usually did when he gambled. He'd been more responsible, even concerned for her marriage, her inheritance. "Ashlund is filthy rich," Ty had said. "How could he possibly need your paltry fifteen thousand pound yearly income?"
The memory made her realize that Ty never courted any of the ladies who could bring to him the modest inheritance a baron might expect. Surely, he must want a woman who could bring something to the marriage. Perhaps even a fifteen thousand pound yearly income? Her stomach clenched. It was too coincidental that her aunt's lover Clive was the highwayman who escaped, and Ty had miraculously arrived in time to save them from the brigand. Dear God, they had to be in league together. But that didn't explain why he'd killed Adam.
A shadow fell across her, and Ty came into view standing behind the couch. She gave a cry.
He placed his palms on the top of the couch and leaned forward. "Enjoying spying on me, Cousin?"
Her mind jumped to a dozen different answers before she recalled they were in the duke's home and they both knew he had no reason to be there.
Phoebe shoved off the couch as Ty grabbed for her. She thudded onto the carpet, then seized the bottom of the couch and heaved with all her might. He slammed onto the carpet, the couch on top of him. Phoebe sprang to her feet and lunged past him for the door, but iron fingers seized her ankle. She crashed to the carpet, kicking. The heel of her free foot landed a blow to his jaw before he grabbed the foot. She screamed. Ty was on her in an instant. His hand clamped over her mouth, pinning her to the floor. The pistol in his waistband dug into her hip.
"Where is it?" he hissed.
She shook her head to say she didn’t understand.
"Don't toy with me, Phoebe. I want that letter."
She grabbed the wrist of the hand over her mouth.
"Stop it or I'll kill you right here," he snarled.
She stilled.
"Now, I'm going to remove my hand," he said. "Scream and I'll knock you from here to hell and back. Understand?"
She nodded.
Tentatively, his hold loosened. Phoebe made no move to scream and he lifted his hand from her mouth.
"You fool," she said. "My husband will return any moment and when he does—"
"The letter," he hissed.
Her heart pounded. Ty showed no fear that Kiernan might arrive. Terror twisted through her. She recalled the highwayman who, without provocation, intended to shoot Kiernan. Her chest constricted. Ty had sent them—paid them—to kill her husband. And she didn't have to wonder why. If Kiernan died, she would be a very rich woman. Her fifteen thousand pound yearly income would, then indeed, be paltry. But that didn't explain Adam.
"Why?" she demanded.
His face contorted in fury. "He intended to force to go to Gretna Green with him."
P
hoebe closed her eyes. Ty had known exactly who the why referred to. She opened her eyes. "You miscalculated."
"I won't make that mistake again."
She started to tell him there wouldn't be a next time, but he cut her off.
"Where's the letter Phoebe? Tell me or I kill you, then your husband."
Panic ripped through her. She forced all thought from her mind—except one. "What letter?"
"The letter your husband received from the man in Scotland."
She had no idea what he was talking about, but said, "Kiernan keeps all personal papers in his bedchambers."
Ty shoved to his feet, dragging her with him. He drew the pistol from his waistband. "One peep and I'll blow your brains out."
She nodded.
"Which floor?" he demanded.
"Third floor, west wing."
"Any servants about?"
She shook her head. "The duke and duchess don't allow them to work into the night."
"How magnanimous of them," he said, and prodded her toward the door.
The turn of the doorknob stopped them short.
Ty cursed. Phoebe rammed her elbow into his ribs and wrenched free of his grip as she dove right. He swung his pistol toward her and she rolled. A shot resounded and she jumped before realizing that Ty hadn't fired. Her vision snapped into focus onto Kiernan, who strode across the room, still gripping the pistol he'd fired.
Ty scrambled to his feet. Blood stained the left side of his shirt over his ribs. Mather appeared in the doorway, a revolver in hand, but Kiernan reached Ty. Kiernan threw aside his gun and drove a heavy blow into Ty's belly. Ty dropped to his knees. Kiernan seized his lapel and lifted. Her cousin rammed his head into Kiernan's gut and drove him backwards until they crashed into a chair.
Phoebe jumped to her feet. "Mather! Do something."
Mather looked at her, brow raised.
Kiernan rammed an elbow into Ty's shoulder. Phoebe spied Ty's pistol lying on the floor near her foot and she snatched up the weapon. The two men were on their feet again. She pointed the weapon at Ty as Mather reached her side.
"No, Lady Ashlund." He eased the weapon downward. "You might hit His Lordship and I've worked far too hard this evening to keep him from getting shot."
The duke appeared in the doorway, a revolver in hand, as Kiernan's fist slammed Ty's jaw. The blow lifted her cousin off his feet and slammed him into the coffee table. Wood splintered and he went limp.
"What in bloody hell is going on?" the duke demanded.
Phoebe glimpsed Elise in the hallway. He glanced back at her, then looked back at Kiernan.
"We have Mr. Branbury's killer," Kiernan said in a dark voice that sent a shiver down her back. "I'll explain all—" he glanced at Phoebe, eyes dark with fury "—tomorrow."
In three paces, he was at her side and grabbed her arm. "What the hell happened?"
"I fell asleep in the library when Ty—"
"The library?" he cut in.
Ty groaned.
Kiernan looked at Mather. "Mather, if you please. I believe Richard has a cell reserved for the baron."
"With pleasure, sir."
Mather strode to where Ty stirred, then seized him by the collar and dragged him to his feet. Ty swayed but stood on his own when Mather released him.
"Can't have that," Mather said, and threw a hard uppercut to Ty's jaw. Ty crumpled to the floor, then Mather hauled him over his shoulder and started for the door. "Your Grace," he said as he passed the duke. "Ma'am," he nodded to the duchess, and disappeared down the hall.
Kiernan's grip on Phoebe's arm tightened. "Lady Ashlund, I warned you what would happen if I returned home to find you anywhere but in my bed."
She flushed. "Sir, I—"
He dragged her to the couch near the window and dropped onto the cushion, hauling her over his lap, and yanking her nightgown up over her buttocks. She gasped.
"Kiernan," Elise began.
"Lass," the duke cut in, and Phoebe snapped her head in their direction. The duke gave his wife a warning shake of his head.
Embarrassed warmth spread up Phoebe's cheeks. She couldn't believe it. The duke was going to stand by while his son spanked her bare bottom!
Kiernan's hold on her waist tightened. She twisted in an effort to break free, but his arm pinned her more tightly to his lap. A slap sounded before the stinging registered in her mind. Before she could yelp, his broad palm again connected with the sensitive skin of her buttocks.
"Release me!" She thrashed.
He smacked her again.
"MacGregor," she shouted. "I will put a bullet through your—" Another slap followed, harder this time. "That hurts!"
Kiernan gave yet another stinging swat, then shoved to his feet, dragging her with him. She jerked her head up, eyes narrowed in fury.
He lifted a brow. "I believe you know what is to follow."
Confusion gave way to understanding. "You had best never untie me, for I will brain you in your sleep."
He gave a nod. "I am pleased that your plans include me. Come along."
She dug in her heels, but he hugged her to his side and forced her to match step with him. "Father," he said as they neared the door. He smiled at the duchess, who stared wide-eyed. "Elise."
Once through the doorway, Kiernan lifted Phoebe so that her feet left the carpet. She gave him a hard kick, but he didn't slow, and instead took the stairs two at a time. They reached his room and he strode to the bed. Kiernan dropped her feet onto the floor only to grab the waist of her nightgown.
Phoebe realized his intent. "I beg—"
Fabric covered her mouth and blocked her vision. She brought her arms down in an attempt to thwart him, but heard a rip and relented. Kiernan yanked the nightgown from over her head, then pushed her onto the mattress. He snatched a handkerchief from his pocket and swung a leg over her hips. His weight pinned her to the mattress and Phoebe found herself facing the thick bulge in his trousers.
*****
Kiernan finished tying Phoebe's hands to the bedpost, then straightened to survey his handiwork. Her arms were stretched back over her head, causing her breasts to jut forward in daring invitation. The base of his engorged cock pressed her flat belly with a need that bordered on pain. For a horrifying instant, when he'd seen her in Arlington's grip, Kiernan thought he'd lost her and he'd gone out of his mind. Yet even her here, safe, he still teetered on the edge of losing his mind.
He braced his palms on each side of her and brought his face close to hers.
"Beware, my lord," she said in a soft voice.
His cock jumped.
Kiernan shoved to his feet and slid his gaze over the curve of her breasts and down her belly. When his gaze reached the blonde curls that disappeared into the juncture between her legs his erection beat against the constraints of his trousers as if it had a mind of its own. When it came to Phoebe that wasn't far from the truth.
He brought his eyes back to her face to find her staring with…boredom? Damnation, the little hellcat was challenging him. That's what she'd been doing when she chose the library instead of his bed. Kiernan shucked his coat then yanked loose the knot on his cravat. With slow deliberation, he slid the cloth from his neck, tossed it aside then unfastened the buttons on his shirt. When he shoved the fabric off his shoulders, her gaze dropped to his chest.
Kiernan let the shirt fall, then unfastened his trousers. He kept his attention on her face, but her eyes remained fixed on his fingers as he freed the last button and shoved the trousers down and over his hips. Her mouth parted and, when she swallowed, his erection pulsed. She gave a small gasp and it was all he could do to keep from mounting and fucking her like a wild bull. Kiernan forced his breathing to slow and lowered himself onto her.
Her full curves melted beneath him. His heart raced and he covered a breast with his palm. The nipple pressed into his hand and he watched her face as he kneaded the warm flesh. She wiggled beneath him and for an instant he thought he would spend himself on her
belly.
"I think some movement is required, sir."
Kiernan stilled. "What's that you say?"
"You are awfully…large."
Was she talking about his body or his cock?
Kiernan urged her legs apart and settled his hips between her thighs. "We'll start with an heir," he said.
Gently, he reminded himself as he fitted the tip of his penis to the opening of her channel. God, but he wanted to drive into her until she screamed his name.
"Once he's safe in the nursery," he went on, "a daughter will follow." Her slick folds allowed easy entrance and her gasp when he inched inside caused his scrotum to contract. "After that," he kissed her cheek, "we'll get you fat with my third child." He slid a wet kiss from her cheek to her ear, and drove hilt deep in one hard thrust.
She drew a sharp breath.
Kiernan lifted onto his elbows and looked at her. "What have you to say now, wife?"
She stared up at him. "I say that puts me exactly where I predicted: at your beck and call."
He shook his head. "No, love. That puts me at your beck and call."
Kiernan reached up and yanked free the handkerchief that bound her hands.
Her eyes narrowed. "What sort of knot was that? A highwayman's hitch, I wager."
He lifted a brow. "Only a highwayman would use a highwayman's hitch?"
She nodded and Kiernan moved inside her in slow, easy strokes.
"By heavens," she said in a breathless voice that wound through him like a siren's song. "I suppose that'll do."
"Will it?" he asked.
She nodded and wound her arms around his neck.
"Do you think you might one day love me?" he asked.
Her breasts rose and fell with the quickening of her breath. "That depends."
"Depends on what?" Kiernan drew a nipple into his mouth.
She sighed. "Whether or not you can keep my ennui at bay."
Kiernan snapped his head up. "Ennui, you say?"
She nodded and he felt that same sense of helplessness he'd felt that moment he'd entered her coach. There was only one answer. He stroked faster in her channel. Pleasure mounted.