by Sharon Page
With her death, he had lost everyone in his family—except Emma had a child. And when she had killed herself, she had left her son alone, without parents.
Sinjin pulled open the door to the crypt, ducked his head, and stepped into the dark. It was pitch dark, but as a vampire, he could see easily. Emma’s cool marble sarcophagus stood in the middle. Her likeness was carved into the top. On it, with her marble eyes closed and her sculpted hands resting on her chest, he could imagine she was still alive and she looked this way, as though she was merely sleeping. But all that was inside the coffin was a small pile of dust.
His heart cold, he laid the roses on top of the marble hands. “I know James is safe, Emma,” he said aloud, into the quiet of the tomb. “I will have him home soon. I promise.”
And he would. James was the only family he had left.
He had to ensure he acquired Lady Lucy Drake’s trust. After that, he could question her, and try to find clues to where James was being held by her family. If he could coax her to trust him, he would be able to slowly break through the defenses she carried as a shape-shifter and see into her thoughts.
But before dawn, he would try one more time with her brother, Jack.
One of his servants had brought him word this evening: they had discovered where her damned brother was hiding.
Maybe the Earl of Wrenshire would be more forthcoming with his information when he found out what his sister was willing to do to save him.
Her trunk was packed. Lucy swiftly tied her bonnet ribbons beneath her chin, her gloves tucked beneath her arm.
She was ready to go—to run for the carriage before she lost her nerve—when the front door opened, the scent of smoke whirled in, and one of her investigators bowed, gave her a crooked smile, and said softly, “I have findings to report, my lady.”
She led him into the study, which would have been her brother’s room if Jack had not disappeared, and sat at the desk. Arching her brow, she waited for her investigator to begin. He doffed his beaver hat and gave her another grin, looking relaxed and devilish. A former Bow Street Runner, Mr. Armstrong did not look like the sort of man who respected the law, but he reputedly took cases without payment or hope of reward when he felt justice should be served.
He had agreed to find her missing brother and accept his payment later. Lucy suspected it was because the handsome, dark-haired man admired Helena.
“I believe I’ve traced the last movements the earl made before he disappeared, my lady.” Armstrong drew a notebook from a deep pocket and flicked the pages with his black-gloved hands. “At eight of the night, the earl left his club and proceeded to—” He stopped abruptly, then ran his fingers around his collar. “Beg your pardon, my lady, but the rest might not be suitable for a lady’s ears.”
Lucy sighed. “You cannot shock me, Mr. Armstrong. I assume it was either a seedy gaming establishment or a brothel.”
“Indeed it was a combination of both, my lady. At midnight, he took his leave and visited several gaming halls.”
She arched a brow. “Several? Could he not lose enough money at one?”
She didn’t expect an answer but to her surprise he gave her one. “It appears he was not engaged in deep play but in the pursuit of a duke,” he said.
“A duke? And this was on the night he disappeared?” Normally her brother stayed out all night, but returned in mid-morning, where he would collapse in a drunken stupor on his bed. But on that particular day, he had not appeared. He had gone out the night before and he had not come back. “Which duke?” Though, really, what other duke would it be?
“The Duke of Greystone,” Armstrong confirmed. “They encountered each other in a tavern near the London Docks. According to several witnesses, they left together.”
“They did?” And the wretched duke had said nothing about it. Did he know what had happened to Jack?
“I take it, my lady, you wish to know what they spoke about? They were overheard.”
“Yes, of course I do!”
“They spoke of the duke’s nephew. The duke accused the earl’s father of kidnapping his young nephew.”
5
The Pleasure Room
The Duke of Greystone possessed an enormous house on Upper Brook Street—one crafted of severe gray stone and rows of sparkling windows. A footman in sapphire-blue and silver livery escorted her past the drawing room in which she had first encountered the duke.
Inside Lucy was ready to explode. And not with desire. Had Greystone done something with her brother? Had his words frightened Jack so much they had forced him to run? Had the duke hurt her brother over this bizarre accusation?
How could her father have kidnapped the duke’s nephew? It was impossible. Father never would have done such a thing. The accusation was utterly insane.
Was Greystone insane? He had not seemed so when she had ... oh God, when she’d had intimate relations with him. He had been astonishingly kind to her. He had comforted her about Allan Ferrars, soothing her, telling her she was brave. Had he done all those things while knowing what had happened to her brother?
And she, the utter fool, had been seduced by his words and by his wonderful touches and the thrusts that had made her whole body quiver with pleasure.
But then a memory struck her, one that made her halt on the stairs. She clutched the banister to keep her balance. Father had rescued children who were shape-shifting dragons. He had taken in many orphans or abandoned children, and had supported them, and helped them understand what they were. Just before he had died, Father had been distraught. There had been a child he had taken in ... one he said he had tried to protect ... but that he had failed to do so.
How could that have been the duke’s nephew? Father only took in children who had no family or who had been cast off and rejected by their relatives.
“Where is the duke?” she demanded of the servant, when they reached the stairs that swept up to the next story of the house. “Where are you taking me?”
The footman bowed. “His Grace wished to meet you in the Pleasure Room.”
“The what room?” She stared. The servant, an elderly man, with bushy gray eyebrows and crinkled blue eyes beneath his powdered wig, held his face without expression. He did not even blush.
“It is a special room used by His Grace,” the man replied. He began to mount the stairs.
“Indeed.” Lifting her hems, she followed, rolling her eyes. Only the Duke of Greystone, scoundrel and libertine that he was, could have a room of such a name. A normal gentleman would have a library, a study, and a bedchamber. He would not openly call a room the “Pleasure” Room.
She had been a fool to come here and offer herself to him. The duke must have been laughing at her all the while.
The footman stopped at the end of the hall, at double white paneled doors. “Do not announce me,” she said. She intended to take His Grace by surprise. Lucy threw open both doors and stalked inside. She planned to face Greystone and crisply ask, “What happened to my brother? You were the last person to see him.”
But she was taken by surprise.
There was one astonishing thing in this room she had seen before, but quite a few things she hadn’t. Dark paneling covered the walls. Glowing light came from a huge fireplace and tapered candles set in tall, wrought-iron stands. A large cheval mirror stood near a bench, reflecting the flickering candle flames. Strange wooden objects littered the room—stands and benches with ropes tied to them. A swing with a small velvet seat hung from the ceiling in the middle of the room. And manacles also dangled from the ceiling. This room looked as though it had nothing to do with pleasure.
“Lady Lucy. How delightful. You are early.”
The duke’s voice flowed to her. He stood in front of the fireplace, illuminated by the glow. She had been trying to look everywhere at once, and not at him. As the day before, he was not wearing any clothes.
But this time, when she saw him, her traitorous brain thought of what his body had felt like un
der her fingertips. What it had felt like when his narrow hips had been between her legs and his chest had been a wicked pressure against her naked breasts—
Lucy crossed her arms over her chest, refusing to blush, to show any intimidation. “Your Grace, I have learned you spoke to my brother on the night he disappeared,” she said sharply. “He left a seedy tavern in your company, and then he has not been seen again. And you accused my father of kidnapping your nephew. That’s impossible!”
Greystone plucked something off the mantel. He strode to her, at ease in his nudity. He held out a glass to her—a delicate glass with amber liquid within. Sherry. After what she had just said, he was offering sherry.
“Your Grace, what happened to my brother?”
He set the glass on one of the strange benches. There were chains attached to the legs. “And how did you learn of this, Lady Lucy?”
“I hired a man to hunt for my brother. He has been missing for a week! He vanished after telling me about his debts to you. I feared—I feared he had done something foolish.”
“Hurt himself?”
“No—run away. Left England.”
“Yes, your brother is the sort of wastrel who would do that.”
“You have no right to say such a thing,” she flared. “What did you do to him? Did you injure him because he has not paid his debts?” Bothered, she looked down. He was now very erect, as though their argument aroused him.
She glared into his eyes. “What did you do to him?”
“I questioned him. Which is a better treatment than he deserves, since he would not tell me where my nephew is being held.”
“That is madness. My family did not kidnap your nephew.”
“They did. And you must be very well aware of the fact. So you tell me, Lady Lucy, where is the boy? Where is your family hiding my nephew, James?”
“How could you think my family did such a thing? I do not know anything about your nephew. I am sorry if he is missing. I know how terrifying that is, since I have no idea what happened to my brother. But my family had nothing to do with his disappearance.”
“Not true. They did, and I suspect you know where he is. It is a known fact that your family is a closely knit clan.”
The way he looked into her eyes ... as though he knew ... but he couldn’t ...
Unless her brother, Jack, had told him they were dragons.
No, Jack would never do that. They had all been taught they must never reveal the truth.
His Grace walked around her slowly. She stood her ground—until he came against her from behind. His erection poked her bottom through her skirts. She tried to step away, but his arms went around her waist. “You are being loyal to your family, and you are lying to me.”
“I’m not!” Lucy half-turned to protest, and her lips almost touched his. Breathing hard, she turned away.
“You hired a man to search for your brother. What do you think I did to find my nephew? I have sent two dozen men in search of him. But the reason I know your father took him, Lady Lucy, is because your father told me.”
“It’s—it can’t be possible. My father would never have done such a thing. Why would he?”
“I believe you know, Lady Lucy.” He breathed the words against her ear with his cool breath.
“I don’t!”
Sinjin tried to see into Lady Lucy’s thoughts. He could not, but her emotions flooded to him. Anger. Confusion. Frustration. Fear. Worry.
Why the fear? Was she fearful because she might be caught in a lie? Or was she feeling great fear because she was afraid for her brother? He skimmed his hands up her stomach, to rest just below the generous curve of her breasts. She wore a fresh gown, a fetching one of ivory silk. She stiffened. Her heart thundered against his fingers. “Your father assured me James is safe. But he also assured me I would never see the boy again. Why, my dear, do you think I worked to ruin your brother?”
“I—”
“I did it to get my nephew back. All I want is the safe return of an innocent boy. He is only five years of age.”
Against his body, she shuddered. “I cannot believe this. I have no proof my father said any such thing to you. I have witnesses who saw you leave with my brother.”
He traced the smooth curve of her jaw. Was her outrage just an act? Was it possible her father had ensured she did not know that he had stolen a child to use the poor lad as a hostage? “I know where he is. I will take you to him. But first, my dear, you will submit to my every command tonight.”
“What—what do you mean?”
“I want to make love to you. You will do everything I ask, and then I will tell you where you can find your wastrel brother.”
Lucy glanced around the room—at the swing, the manacles, and the benches with their chains. She did not care about their bargain now. And the last thing she wanted to do was something sexual. “No. I wish to go to my brother now.”
Wastrel or not, Jack deserved her protection. She had vowed to Father that she would look after Jack, who drank too much, gamed too much, and was always in trouble. But also, Jack had protected her once, when she’d needed him most. He had rescued her from Allan, and she owed him her very life for that.
A wicked grin curved the duke’s lips. He winked at her, which infuriated her. Lightly, he said, “Your brother is perfectly safe. I doubt he would appreciate your interruption too soon.”
She did not appreciate his teasing tone at this particular time. “Why? Where is he?” She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the maddening man.
“No harm in giving you a little hint, I suppose... .” He shrugged. “My men have located him in a brothel—he’s been holed up in there for days.”
“A brothel?” Pure fury rushed through her. Lucy clenched her fists at her sides. “We thought he was dead and he is hiding in a brothel?”
“Indeed.”
There was much about this she did not understand. “How, if you wanted to find your nephew, did you not know where my brother was? Are you telling me that after you left that tavern together, when he had not given you the information you wanted, you simply let him go?”
Suspiciously, she watched his eyes, to see if he gave himself away. It didn’t make sense. But his eyes merely reflected the light in the room, and she could get no sense of his private thoughts.
The duke sighed. “I allowed your brother to go as I intended to follow him. However, I was overly arrogant, and your brother evaded me. For as long as you have been looking for him, I’ve been searching for him. I want him to tell me where my nephew is. Now, come, Lady Lucy, we made a bargain. Sexual pleasure first.”
She should go and find Jack right now. So she could boot her brother in his derriere, the thoughtless wretch. But her body relaxed in the duke’s embrace, against her will. She couldn’t help it. She was so tired—tired of trying to save Jack from himself.
Greystone’s arms tightened around her. She could not deny they were strong, and inside the circle of them, she felt secure.
“Even if we had not made a bargain,” the duke murmured, “I would move heaven and earth to make love to you.”
His lips touched her neck. The most remarkable tingle burst like a fireball at the point where he kissed her. It rushed down her spine. Then he ran his tongue along her neck.
Inside, she was molten, as hot as dragon fire.
“Your brother should have taken much better care of you.” Kisses trailed down the nape of her neck. Lucy whimpered.
She should go to Jack ... but the duke was right ... Jack would be furious at her for hauling him from a house of ill repute. She gazed down at the duke’s golden hair. “You do believe I know nothing about your nephew, don’t you? I truly don’t.”
His tongue ran over the swell of her breasts. “Yes, I believe you.” He looked up. “I would say I was wrong about your father, except he admitted it to me.”
“But why would my father take an innocent boy—”
He had turned her as she protest
ed, and he silenced her with one hot, openmouthed, hungry kiss.
The duke must believe she had nothing to do with the kidnapping of his nephew—how could he kiss her like this if he did? Lucy wanted to know exactly what had happened but she was on fire, and she couldn’t stop kissing him.
She must know about his nephew’s kidnapping. Even as he assured her he did believe her, Sinjin could not understand how Lady Lucy did not know what her family had done.
True, she had appeared to be genuinely shocked, but she’d managed to keep London Society from learning she was a dragon. She knew how to keep a secret.
She wouldn’t tell him the truth. He had to get inside her mind and see for himself. To do that, he had to coax her to trust him.
Her skin sizzled with warmth beneath his hands. What he intended to do was give Lady Lucy Drake an introduction to exotic sex in a way she wouldn’t forget.
He could tie her up and have his wicked way with her.
Or he could let her tie him up.
The duke stretched his long, nude body on one of the benches, and he grinned. Lucy was still completely dressed, and she had crossed her arms over her chest. He had simply left her, walked to the bench, and lay down.
His feet rested by the legs, where ropes dangled. He held more rope in his hands. With his arms above his head, he looked both vulnerable and more muscular. In this position, his chest and back looked even broader. Unlike her body, which was soft, her curves defined by areas where she was too plump, his skin clung to the shape of his remarkable muscles. Then he shifted, and she saw his erection where it was trapped between the bench and his abdomen—goodness, he was very aroused, his penis long and straight.