Marzano flicked a glance at his henchman. “Fetch the child.”
The thug had barely taken a step when Justine whipped her pistol up and pointed it straight at his chest. In some distant part of her mind, she heard her father’s voice whispering encouragement and counseling her to hold the weapon in a steady yet comfortable grip.
The big brute pulled up, rolling a startled glance at Marzano.
The count had gone still, but his dark gaze sparked with heightened fury. He studied her, clearly calculating the risk. “Put the gun down, Mrs. Steele, before I am forced to hurt you.”
She raised her eyebrows. “And yet I would appear to be the only person in this room holding a pistol.”
He gave her a smile that chilled her to the bone. “But you will never use it. Even you cannot be so foolish to think you can simply murder the lawful representative of San Agosto, ally to the British Crown. I have the Regent’s personal support. No one could save you in those circumstances, not even your precious Sir Dominic.” He laughed. “And certainly not your husband.”
Again Marzano flicked a glance at his man. The thug started toward the cradle.
“Perhaps,” Justine said. “But I can shoot him.”
She pulled the trigger and the pistol kicked in her hand. Her ears rang as she saw the brute grab his shoulder and stagger into the chair by the cradle, tangling himself up with it and falling to the floor. The baby’s high-pitched shrieks echoed the deafening explosion of the gun.
For an instant, Justine and Marzano froze in a horrible tableau. Then he whipped up his blade, his countenance red with fury.
“She-devil,” he hissed. “Now I will kill you.”
He crouched as if to spring, but before he could come at her someone hurtled through the door, taking Marzano down to the floor. The crash of bodies shook the floorboards.
Griffin.
Justine gaped as her husband fought Marzano for control of the blade, still clutched in the Italian’s hand. Terrified the glinting length of steel might catch Griffin, she started toward them.
“Stay back,” her husband snapped in a voice more exasperated than breathless. “I’ve got this under control.”
And despite the harrowing struggle, he did. In mere seconds, he had hold of Marzano’s wrist, twisting it backward with a brutal, efficient snap. She heard the sickening crunch of bones over the count’s shrieks. As the blade clattered into the corner, Griffin swarmed to his feet in a fluid blur. Reaching down, he grabbed Marzano by his coat with one hand, lifting him halfway off the floor. Then, with his other hand, he drilled a punishing right fist into the man’s jaw. Marzano’s eyes rolled back in his head and Griffin released his grip, letting the count thump back to the floorboards.
Griffin straightened up, tugging his tailcoat back into place. Aside from the long hair tumbling out of its tie and the slight flush across his cheekbones—and the bleeding knuckles of his right hand—her husband seemed hardly discomposed. Justine could only stare at him, openmouthed, stunned at how quickly and effectively he’d dispatched his opponent.
His armed opponent. It would appear that Griffin Steele had more than earned his deadly reputation.
Justine heard a half-moan, half-growl behind her, and whipped around. She’d forgotten about the other man, who had hauled himself up onto his knees. But Griffin was already crossing the room. He grabbed the man by the hair and clunked his head against the wall. Like his master, the man’s eyes rolled in his head as he slumped back down to the floor.
Griffin peered down to inspect the blood seeping through the rough fabric of the man’s coat. Then he cast her a wry glance. “Well, Mrs. Steele, you finally got to shoot someone after all.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Griffin’s dry tone nudged Justine from her stunned condition.
“Despite what you might think, shooting a man has not been a long-held ambition of mine,” she said as she hurried to the cradle.
She slid her hands under the crying baby and brought him up to her shoulder, patting and soothing him with inarticulate murmurs. Stephen buried his little head into her neck and Justine, her heart still pounding in a thunderous rhythm, took comfort from his warm, solid weight.
“Still,” Griffin said as he joined her, “it will be an interesting story to tell our grandchildren, don’t you agree?”
Justine couldn’t begin to think how to reply to that unexpected statement. All she could do was stare at him, confused and dreadfully, anxiously hopeful.
When Griffin reached out and cradled her cheek, his hard mouth lifted into a smile both tender and wry. “My silly darling, what were you thinking to run away from me like that?”
She struggled to force words from her tight throat. “I thought it was the only way to keep the baby safe. Besides, I was sure you’d never want anything to do with me again, after such a betrayal on my part. I left you with such an awful mess to clean up.”
He bent his knees, meeting her eye to eye. The warmth and intimacy in his gaze stalled the breath in her lungs.
“Mine was the betrayal,” he said gently. “You were acting to save a child’s life. And I promise I will never do that to you again, Justine. I will never abandon you when you need me. You have my word.”
She blinked back the sting of tears. “Really?”
He nodded, but then adopted a severe expression. “But you’re never to run off like that again. You’re always to come to me if you have a problem or need help. Is that clear?”
She grimaced as she jostled the snuffling baby higher on her shoulder. Stephen’s tears had thankfully subsided, and he was rubbing his messy face on her shoulder as he nestled closer. “I wanted to come to you,” she said earnestly. “It practically killed me that I couldn’t. But after what your mother told me, I didn’t think I had a choice.”
Something shifted in his expression. He straightened up, looking rather grim. “Yes, I am sorry about that. You should have been able to trust me instead of having to accept help from a stranger.”
“Well, not quite a stranger. She is your mother, after all.”
A hint of a smile lightened his stern countenance. “Don’t remind me. But regardless of that inconvenient detail, from now on I promise to do whatever my wife tells me to do.”
She couldn’t hold back a rusty laugh. “Yes, I can just imagine,” she said, trying to speak lightly. But her heart tripped a few beats at the idea that Griffin might truly be starting to feel as serious about their marriage as she did.
“And you, little fellow,” Griffin murmured, stroking the back of the baby’s skull, “you are certainly a great deal of worry and bother. Whatever will we do with you now?”
Stephen let out a chortle and twisted in Justine’s arms, reaching his chubby hands out to Griffin. When the baby kicked against her stomach, she had to clutch him to maintain her grip.
“Give him to me,” Griffin said, “before you drop the little blighter. And I want you to sit down before you fall down.”
With only a minimal protest, Justine handed the baby over before righting the chair by the cradle and sinking into it. Her heart turned over in the most disgracefully sentimental manner at the sight of her powerful, dangerous husband, dressed in buccaneer black, competently shifting a damp, messy baby into the crook of his arm. Suddenly she couldn’t imagine anything she wanted more than to spend her life with Griffin, raising a family and loving him for the rest of her days. She didn’t care whether they lived in a villa in Italy or a tent in Egypt. She only knew she never wanted to leave him.
“Is something wrong?” he asked when he caught her expression.
“Not a thing,” she said. “I was simply wondering what happens now.” Suddenly, she jolted upright in her chair. “I completely forgot about the landlord and his wife! Count Marzano said he locked them up.”
“Deacon and Joshua have the situation in hand. In fact—” He broke off as Joshua Lewis came through the door.
“Beggin’ your pardon, Mr. Griffin,” Jo
shua said, “but Mr. Deacon was wondering what to do with those two coves downstairs.” He glanced at Marzano and his henchman, still unconscious, and then grinned at his employer. “Guess you took care of those bleedin’ sods. Sorry for the language, Mrs. Steele,” he said to Justine as an afterthought.
“No apology is necessary since I feel the same,” Justine said. “I’m just wondering what we’re going to do with them.”
Griffin cocked his head as if listening. “As to that, I think help is on the way.” Right on cue, Chloe hurried into the room followed a moment later by Dominic.
“Uncle Dominic!” Justine exclaimed, jumping up to throw herself into his arms. When her godparent enveloped her in a fierce and familiar embrace, she almost burst into tears.
“Are you all right, my child?” He eased her back to study her, his face anxious. “Marzano didn’t hurt you?”
“No, I’m fine,” she said, giving him a misty smile. “Griffin gave those two villains a splendid thrashing.”
“Well, you did shoot one of them in the shoulder, my love,” Griffin said as he carefully transferred the baby to Chloe. “That made my job easier.”
Dominic inspected the man slumped against the wall. “Well done, my dear. I see your aim is as good as ever. But I suppose we’d better fetch a doctor before he bleeds to death.”
“I was very careful not to hit anything vital,” Justine said, apologetically. “But I suppose it does make sense to send for a doctor.”
Just then, Deacon popped his head into the room. “Those blighters are trussed up nice and tight downstairs, Sir Dominic,” he said. “What do you want me to do with this lot?”
Dominic reached down and grabbed Marzano, who moaned as he came to. “Let’s haul them down to the taproom.” He shoved the count into Deacon’s ham-sized hands. “I need to have a brief discussion with the count. When everyone’s wounds are treated, we’ll dispatch them back to London.”
Justine and Chloe exchanged an anxious glance as Joshua and Deacon half-dragged, half-carried the count and his man from the room.
“Do you think it’s wise to just send them off like that?” Chloe asked. “What if the count won’t listen to you?”
“He’ll listen,” Dominic said, looking every inch the grim and powerful spymaster.
“But what if—” Chloe began to protest. Dominic touched her cheek, and her words trailed off.
“There’s nothing to fear, I assure you,” he said. “I have the matter well in hand.”
For a moment, he and Chloe stared at each other, her expression worried and vulnerable and Dominic’s calmly intent. Justine couldn’t begin to imagine the emotions and history that colored their relationship, but she suspected her godparent’s life would be greatly changed after today.
Finally, Chloe gave him an uncertain smile. “Very well, Dominic. I will entrust Stephen’s safety to you.”
When Chloe turned to Griffin, Justine’s heart almost broke at the expression of pain that momentarily transformed Dominic’s impassive features. She could only hope that his future with Chloe—whatever it was destined to be—held more happiness than his past.
Chloe secured the baby with one arm and held a hand out to Griffin. “Thank you, my son.”
To Justine’s surprise, he took his mother’s hand in a brief clasp. “I didn’t do it for you, but you’re welcome.” His manner wasn’t unfriendly, but he still held himself carefully distant.
“I understand.” Chloe’s smile held more than a hint of melancholy. “But I hope someday you will find it in your heart to forgive me. I very much desire that.”
Their gazes held as each took the measure of the other. Although different in so many ways, they were surely mother and son. Justine could see it in the determined cut of the jaw and in the sharp, elegant lines of the face. She held her breath, waiting anxiously for her husband to respond and praying he would do so with charity and compassion.
Griffin tilted his head, and his mouth softened a bit. “I believe I’d need to know more about what happened to you in order to do that. Which, of course, would indicate a discussion is in order.”
Chloe’s eyelids fluttered, but then her lips curved up in a smile so dazzling it seemed to fill the room with light. Even Griffin looked slightly dazed, which was certainly understandable. It was taking every ounce of Justine’s discipline not to burst into happy tears.
“We shall certainly do that,” Chloe said. “But first I must get this little one back home and settled.”
Justine must have made a noise because the other woman swiftly turned and came to her. “You can, of course, see Stephen whenever you wish,” Chloe said earnestly. Then she cast a shy glance at Griffin. “And I hope we will be able to come visit you, too.”
Justine gave her a hug that included the baby. She hated letting him go but understood that his place was with Chloe, the woman who had mothered him from the beginning. “I would truly love that,” she said. Then she pressed a kiss to the top of Stephen’s head. “I’ll see you soon, little one. I promise.”
He gurgled happily in Chloe’s arms. Justine let out a teary laugh, and even Chloe started to sniffle a bit.
“Oh, God,” Griffin muttered. “Save me from women and babies.”
“You’ll get used to it,” Dominic said with a sardonic smile. “Now, I would suggest we be on our way soon. I’ve got to attend to Marzano, and then I’ll see Chloe and the baby home.”
“Capital idea,” Griffin said, herding Dominic and Chloe to the door. “But don’t worry about us. We’ll be along later.”
Frowning, Justine paused from gathering up her things. “We will?”
“Quite a bit later,” he said firmly. “In fact, we’ll be staying the night.”
Dominic paused in the doorway, gazing at the sparsely furnished room. “Here? Why the hell don’t you just go home?” he asked incredulously.
“Because Justine needs to rest,” Griffin said. “I’m sure her nerves are shattered.”
“My nerves are fine,” Justine protested.
Griffin gave her an exasperated look. “Well, then, my nerves are shattered.”
“That’s all very well,” Dominic protested, “but I could use your help—”
He broke off when Chloe pinched his arm and hissed something under her breath. Startled, Dominic peered at her, then let out a sigh. “Very well, I’ll deal with it myself.” He directed a final scowl at Griffin as Chloe tugged him by the sleeve. “Take care of your wife, Griffin, or else you’ll answer to me.”
Griffin slammed the door behind them. “Sodding old lady, that Dominic,” he muttered.
Justine peered at him, still mystified. “I don’t mean to be disagreeable, but why don’t you wish to return home?”
He came to her, his gaze heating as rapidly as a flash fire as it roamed over her body.
“Oh,” she breathed. “Now I understand.”
“Do you?” he said as he yanked his coat off and dropped it on the floor. His waistcoat followed a few seconds later and then he went to work on his cravat. “I’m glad someone does, because my life is a hell of a mystery to me right now. But, more importantly, I’ve had precious little opportunity to be alone with my wife, much less alone in a room with a bed.”
Then she was in his arms, and he held her so fiercely she could barely breathe.
“I’ll never let you go, Justine,” he said in a voice husky with emotion. “I think I’d go insane if I ever lost you.”
She’d been on the verge of crying today more times than she could count. But his declaration tipped her over the edge.
He cradled her against his hard chest. “Whatever is there to cry about, my love? Everything’s fine.”
She let out a choked laugh because, well, everything was fine. It was more than fine. It was splendid. “You must admit it’s been a very disconcerting day.”
He tipped her chin up and gently kissed the tears from her cheek. “I know. I was barely jesting when I said my nerves were shattered. We
need to repair to bed for some rest and restoration.”
Almost without thought, she started on the laces of his shirt. “Your nerves are never shattered and I doubt we’ll get much rest at all. But what about Deacon and Joshua? Won’t they be waiting for us?”
He frowned and reached up to pull the lace cap off her head, tossing it over his shoulder. His deft fingers started to unbutton her gown. “They’ll be happy to kick their heels up in the taproom for an hour or so. God knows I pay them enough to do so.” He parted the back of her garment and his warm hands slipped inside.
Justine shivered as he began unlacing her stays. “I thought we were staying the night?” she whispered.
His dark laugh weakened her knees. “You’re right as always, my sweet. All night, it is.”
Then he spun her around so quickly she gasped. He lifted her straight off her feet and marched with her to the bed.
“Hold on to the post,” he said, his voice rough and urgent as he put her down.
With trembling hands, she complied as he swiftly finished undressing her, down to her chemise and stockings. But when she let go of the post to help him remove the rest, he clamped his hands around her waist and held her in place.
“Don’t let go of the post, Justine.”
She swallowed, only able to nod in reply. When he went down on his knees behind her, his hands slipping up under her chemise, she jumped a little. He murmured something soothing under his breath, but the feel of his warm, slightly rough hands moving up the backs of her legs made her tremble. When he pushed gently on the inside of her thighs, urging her to widen her stance, she felt her sex start to soften and grow damp.
“Skin like silk and cream,” he murmured absently as he unfastened her garters.
He had her step out of her stockings, and then his hands returned to her thighs. They slid up and moved against her tender folds, his fingers gently probing and sliding through the moisture that gathered there.
“Griffin,” Justine moaned.
“Don’t let go,” he said.
The sensual order made her wriggle with excitement. She heard a low, answering growl, then she felt him lean forward and nip her bottom.
Confessions of a Royal Bridegroom Page 35