When a Lady Desires a Wicked Lord_Her Majesty's Most Secret Service

by Tara Kingston

  The blandness of his expression seemed calculated. Deliberate. Why was he shutting her out? Moving to one of the bookshelves that filled the walls of the small chamber, she avoided his assessing gaze. Focusing on the first book she spotted, an undoubtedly dull treatise on the reign of Oliver Cromwell, she pondered the most favorable approach. How should she best meet his frustratingly obtuse response?

  “You and I…we share mutual interests,” she began cautiously. Too cautious. Where was her courage? Good heavens, she’d faced villains of the worst sort. Speaking her heart to Benedict should not prove so very difficult.

  But it was. Her pulse throbbed against her ears. She watched him, studying his eyes, his mouth, for any sign of emotion. But he remained a blank canvas.

  “Of course. What is on your mind?” His response was polite. Civil.

  And so very cold.

  “I propose a joint venture. The two of us…working together, side by side, to find the tomb. Stockwell would have wanted us to pursue it. He would’ve—”

  “No.” The single syllable was bluntly spoken.

  “If the professor was right…if the tomb does indeed exist, he would want you to go after it. Why else would he trust us with the amulet? And the map?”

  “He trusted you—not me.” Benedict raked a hand through his hair. “I want no part of it. If the treasure does exist, it should not be entrusted to the likes of me.”

  “We would make a wonderful team. Imagine the adventure,” she persisted.

  “God above, Alexandra. You did not even show faith in me to examine the blasted map. Now, you want me to find the tomb.” He laughed, an ugly, raw chuckle beneath his breath. “I’m the same man I was six weeks ago.”

  “Don’t be silly. You are eminently qualified to lead the expedition. Think of the sense of achievement.”

  “Not a bloody chance.”

  “Please say you’ll consider it. I’ve brought the map with me. I’m eager to begin the planning of an exploration.”

  Slowly, he shook his head. “I’m not the man you want.”

  “Come now, Benedict. I’m shocked you’re dismissing the notion out of hand. We’ve never worked together, side by side. The experience would be…mutually beneficial.”

  “Mutually beneficial, eh?” His hazel eyes darkened, nearly as green as the forest. “Have you convinced yourself that I am a changed man? Do you think to reform me?”

  “I do not believe in reforming a man. Besides, I’m quite well content with you. Just as you are.”

  “Just as I am?” He seemed to ponder the words. “Would you continue to hold that belief if I told you I was embarking on another expedition—a venture that promises to be extremely lucrative?”

  Her heartbeat thudded in her ears. Something in his expression set her off-kilter. It seemed he’d donned a mask, one that she could not see through to the truth.

  “Benedict, whatever do you mean?”

  “Tomorrow morning, I am leaving on a steamer. After a stop in Rome, my ultimate destination will be Cairo.”

  “My, this is so very sudden. And so soon after your injury?” She strived for composure, even as she struggled to understand the implication of his calmly spoken revelation. “I was not aware you were fully healed.”

  He gave a shrug. “My physician might well disagree with my decision, but it’s not as if I’ll be jarring the wound on horseback. An Italian count dispatched a representative to inquire about my services. I have agreed to his terms and will set out within the next fortnight to acquire an artifact of interest.”

  “Say you’ll reconsider—say you’ll come with me.” Emotion seared her throat, and she choked it back. “Everything has changed.”

  He prowled toward her. His arms caged her with her back to the shelves. “God above, Alexandra, I wish I could agree with you. The idea of staying in London—of staying with you—is a powerful temptation. But I cannot lie to you, darling. Nothing has changed.”

  “Of course it has,” she said, searching his face for some clue to what was in his heart. “You…and I—we’re not the same people we were only a few weeks ago.”

  “You’re a beautiful woman. Any man would be honored to have you at his side. But I cannot delude myself that I am the man for you.”

  Ducking his head, he brushed a kiss over her lips. His breath warmed her skin as he lowered his mouth to her throat, the gentlest of caresses.

  “And if I do not want another man—if I want you, Benedict?”

  A muscle in his jaw tensed and released as he appeared to fight an inner battle. “I won’t lead you on. It would be unfair to the both of us.”

  “Lead me on?” She pulled in a breath. “It’s nothing like that. It never has been.”

  “This won’t work—you and I are not meant to be.”

  “How can you kiss me like you do?” she whispered against his lips. “How can you love me like you do…and say we are not meant to be together?”

  “Darling, I’ve always wanted you.” He kissed her again, a tender caress that spoke of passion and dreams unfulfilled. “But I am not a man in any position to take a wife. Not now. Perhaps not ever. And I refuse to treat you a like a mistress. It’s best that we go our separate ways.”

  “You know I share your desire,” she whispered. “I want you now. And always.”

  Claiming her mouth, his arms captured her in a passionate embrace. He drew her to his long, lean body. The heat of his skin permeated his linen shirt, infused her with a delicious warmth. His tongue parted her lips, and she drank in every sensation. Tasting him. Relishing the flavor of his mouth. Immersing herself in the delicious warmth of his muscle and flesh.

  “I want you, Alexandra. I would never deny that.” His arms fell to his sides, and he stepped away. “But that changes nothing. Not a damned thing.”

  Her heart stuttered. She stared up at him, making no effort to hide the shock and pain that coursed through her.

  “You are not making sense. How can you say you want me, but push me away? How can you believe that all will go on as before? Do you think that we can truly separate our lives after what we’ve experienced?”

  He took her hands in his. The slightly coarse texture of his skin against hers was oddly pleasant, even as his words cut deep as a dagger’s blade.

  “I’m no good for you, darling. Have you forgotten that I am the man who claimed the amulet of the cat goddess—the man who’s raided tombs for the better part of the last decade, all to enrich his own coffers?”

  “You don’t have to be that man.” She was not about to plead with him. But she’d tell him what was in her heart. She did not want to live with the regret of what she might have done if not for her pride and fear. “I’m not asking for promises, Benedict. But I do not want to live my life without you in it. Without sharing joy. And heartache. I know you care for me. Don’t shut me out.”

  “I do care for you, Alexandra. You cannot doubt that.” He wove his fingers through her unbound hair, his expression contemplative. “I always have. And I always will.”

  “Then say you will join me. It’s been so very long since we’ve worked together in the field. We were so young then. And foolish.”

  His mouth hitched at the corner. “You were never foolish. But you must understand. I am not a changed man. I fully intend to honor the agreement I made with the Italian. Not that it matters whether I am here or in Cairo—you deserve better than me.”

  “I don’t understand,” she said. “That night…you said you loved me.”

  He caressed her cheek, seeming to study her beneath hooded lids. “I care for you very deeply. But the prospect of imminent death heightens emotional response. I am sure you can understand that.”

  She jerked away, suddenly unable to bear his touch. Had his words of love meant so little?

  “Of course,” she said, drawing on every bit of strength to compose herself. “You’ve made yourself quite clear.”

  He reached out for her, covering her hand with his, bri
nging her closer. Without force. Without violence. His fingers swept her curls back from her face, and he watched her for a heartbeat, perhaps two or three. “Do not misunderstand me, Alexandra. I do love you. I always have. I always will. But I cannot be the man you want me to be…the man you need me to be.”

  His words crashed over her like waves on the moors, threatening to sweep her off her feet and out to sea. “Benedict, please tell me you will reconsider.”

  His arms enfolded her. She pressed her head to his chest, hearing the steady beat of his heart, feeling the strength of his male body and the warmth of his touch. He kissed her then, saying all the things that words could not convey.

  His lips claimed hers, passion infusing the contact. “I will be on that ship at dawn. You have to believe it is for the best.”

  “I refuse to believe any such thing. Perhaps you are right. But I still haven’t learned that lesson now, have I?” She pressed a kiss to his mouth, then stepped away. “I love you, Benedict. But I will not plead with you. I will not beg you to stay. In life, we demonstrate what we value most. I cherish you. And the memories we’ve created. I have faith in you—I know that we could create many more over a lifetime. But I cannot compete with rubies and gems. I cannot offer you a treasure. Only my heart.”

  “Alexandra, you don’t understand. It’s not that simple.”

  Slowly, she shook her head. Tears she desperately held back scalded her throat and the backs of her eyes. “Actually, it is. I love you. I’d give you my heart if you desired it.” She brushed away a tear that coursed down her cheek, hot against her skin. “I’ll leave you now to prepare for your journey. I sense you have indeed made your choice. Goodbye, Benedict.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Cairo, February 1893

  Seated in an elegant restaurant at Shepheard’s Hotel, Benedict stared across the table at the man who’d long been his most accomplished—and most antagonizing—competitor. Gavin Stanwyck was perhaps the one man in Cairo who was as arrogant and driven as he was.

  He hadn’t expected to encounter Stanwyck in the city, and he damned well hadn’t anticipated breaking bread with him. Stanwyck had arranged the meeting for reasons that remained a mystery.

  Benedict took a drink of his whisky as Stanwyck seated himself in a cane-back chair. Behind his spectacles, Stanwyck appraised Benedict like a wolf sizing up a rival predator. He was a clever one. There was no denying that. The man wore his intellect like a blasted medal from the queen.

  In the years of their acquaintance, Benedict had faced the cool assessment in Stanwyck’s gaze on more than one occasion. But now, something was different in his manner. Benedict couldn’t quite put his finger on it. But somehow, Stanwyck had changed. Not that the man was any less arrogant. Benedict doubted that anything could tamp that down. But the drive to prove himself superior to his peers in the field had diminished. Stanwyck appeared more content. More at ease with his life.

  Of course, that might have something to do with the blonde beauty he’d wed several months before Benedict had last returned to London. Now expecting their first child, Sophie Atherton Stanwyck had opted to remain in London during Stanwyck’s latest venture.

  “I’m heading back to England in a day,” Stanwyck said, lifting his tumbler to his lips and taking a drink. “It’s been too long since I’ve been home.”

  Home. The word plowed into him like a bull on a rampage. When had he ever been truly home? Aside from the nights he’d spent with Alexandra in his arms, the most joy he’d ever experienced was during those times when he’d been a guest at the Quinns’ rambling, eclectic country home. Those holidays he’d spent with his schoolmate Jeremy and his family had been among the most pleasant days of his life. He’d stolen away with Alexandra, savoring every moment with her as each learned the meaning of passion and desire.

  And love.

  God above, he’d loved her. There would never be another in his life like Alexandra.

  Never.

  And he’d thrown it all away.

  Not once. But twice.

  Bugger it, he was a fool.

  “So, Marlsbrook, I hear you’ve made a major find,” Stanwyck said, drawing Benedict back to the present. “Your client must be very pleased.”

  “This cache is not going to a client,” Benedict said. He downed what little was left of his whisky and placed the glass on the table. “The Egyptian authorities are taking command of the relics. They’ll be placed in a museum, where they belong.”

  Stanwyck’s brows hiked. “A museum? I must confess this comes as a shock. I was not aware you’d put your profiteering behind you.”

  Benedict shrugged. “I cannot say it is in my past. But this find was different. It is a highly significant contribution to the study of the ancient culture.”

  “I never thought I’d live to say this, but I am impressed.” Stanwyck leaned back in his chair, regarding Benedict over steepled fingers. “Is Miss Quinn aware of the find—and its disposition?”

  “I have not been in communication with her.” Benedict drummed his fingers against the table. Damn the man for bringing Alexandra into the conversation. He didn’t want to think about her now. He was well aware of what he’d lost, of what he’d left behind like a bumbling oaf.

  “I shall be sure to inform her.”

  “I cannot imagine she wants to hear so much as a syllable about me. We did not part on the best of terms.”

  Stanwyck nodded. “So I’ve heard.”

  “What else have you heard?” Benedict asked. “Why did you wish to meet?”

  He smiled, a wry, humorless slant of his mouth. “Nothing like cutting to the chase, eh, Marlsbrook?”

  “Stanwyck, I don’t have all day. What do you want?”

  “I have a proposition—one I believe you may find to your interest.”

  “And what might that be?”

  “Alexandra provided me with the map to the tomb. Utilizing the document in conjunction with the Pharaoh’s Sun, I am confident I can locate the treasure.”

  “I’m not surprised she trusted the map to you,” Benedict said. “I must commend her judgment. Despite being an arrogant arse, you possess an annoying sense of integrity.”

  “I suppose I shall take that as a compliment.” Stanwyck affected a bland expression. “In any case, as my wife is, as they say, heavy with child, I will not be embarking on the expedition until early next year. The preparations will be extensive, as I’m sure you know.”

  “Of course,” Benedict said.

  “The expedition requires a leader, one who’s not going to be concerned with a wife and babe at home in London. I know of no one more qualified to take charge of this endeavor than you. You would receive full credit for your contribution.”

  Stanwyck spoke so matter-of-factly, one might be tempted to believe he did not know of Benedict’s relationship with Alexandra. However, the man was not in the dark. Sophie was like a sister to Jennie and Alexandra. Word had gotten to Stanwyck. What in hellfire was his ultimate objective?

  “Why did you really come here tonight, Stanwyck?”

  “You question my motives?”

  “I presume you know of my history with Alexandra. Our relationship was not clandestine.”

  Stanwyck gave a nod. “Sophie has spoken of it, and as you mention, it has been no secret in London.” His eyes narrowed, and his gaze settled on Benedict’s chin. “By God, there it is.”

  “There what is?” Benedict asked, even as his finger idly traced the thumbnail-wide ridge on his chin.

  “You know what I’m talking about—the infamous scar.” Stanwyck’s half grin seemed surprisingly sincere. “I must commend Jeremy on his right hook. Bugger it, I’d bet that ring of his hurt like the bloody devil.”

  Benedict rubbed his chin. Beneath a day’s growth of stubble, the puckered mark left behind by Jeremy Quinn’s ring provided a permanent reminder of the second worst decision he’d ever made in his life. Leaving Alexandra to seek his fortune had been foolis
h. But walking away after he’d had a second chance at loving her was blasted idiotic. God above, he was a daft arse.

  “I had it coming,” he said. “How is she?”

  “She’s gone on with her life.” Stanwyck drummed his fingers against the table. “Miss Quinn is a strong woman. At first glance, one might overlook her spirit and her wit, but she’s a rare jewel. In some ways, she reminds me of my Sophie.”

  “I’d never taken you for the marrying kind,” Benedict said.

  “The marrying kind?” Stanwyck chuckled, and then, his expression turned serious. “I doubt anyone has ever described me in those terms, including my darling wife. There was a time when I would’ve laughed at anyone who suggested I’d speak my vows and embrace a life outside of exploration. When I met Sophie, I damned near drove her away. Like a damned fool, I’d convinced myself that I was not worthy of a woman like her. Fortunately for me, I came to my senses before she wanted no part of me.”

  “She is a beautiful woman. You’re a lucky man.”

  Stanwyck leaned back in his chair. “You’ll get no argument from me. When I look at her now, I thank God I did not succumb to the doubt that plagued me—the sense that I did not deserve her—and walk away. For some reason I still haven’t quite figured out, she believed in me. A rare gift, indeed.”

  A rare gift. The words echoed in Benedict’s thoughts. Alex believed in him. She’d expressed that in her words, her kiss, her touch. He’d brought her little but pain, but when she’d looked at him with love lighting those gorgeous eyes of hers, her belief in him had shone bright.

  He shifted his thoughts back to Stanwyck and his bride. “Does your wife’s alliance with Colton’s agency trouble you?”

  “I’d be lying if I said it didn’t. At her core, Sophie relishes a challenge, the more daring the better. Of course, now that she is going to be a mother, she will undertake investigations of a less taxing nature. But I cannot imagine she will be content if she isn’t looking into some mystery or other.” Stanwyck’s smile was genuine. “In any case, I did not come here to discuss the ladies. Miss Quinn is well aware of my intention to request that you head the team. As a matter of fact, she is the one who suggested I make the inquiry.”