Tempted By His Kiss

by Tracy Anne Warren

  For a long moment she heard only silence, as though Everett were in the room alone. But then it came, a deep, sibilant murmur from another man. Sliding another inch forward, she strained her ears to hear more.

  “…far too risky and I won’t take a chance like this again.”

  “…but what better place?…never be suspected,” Everett drawled.

  A lengthy pause ensued.

  “So what do you have for me?” Everett asked.

  To her immense frustration, she wasn’t able to hear the other man’s reply, their voices growing indistinct again, as though they had moved farther into the room. Ignoring the obvious risk, she left her place against the wall and eased closer. As she did, she noticed that she could see a portion of the room through the narrow space that ran along the edge of the door frame between the hinges. Through it, she could see Everett standing in the centre of a dimly lit library, his body angled to the side, in order to face his compatriot. As for the mystery man, he remained tantalizingly out of sight, only his shoulder and one arm visible, his face obscured by shadows.

  As she watched, he extended a hand with a small piece of vellum held inside his grasp. Reaching out, Everett accepted the missive and paused to scan the contents. “You’re certain of this information?”

  “Only as certain as my source. Gaining his corroboration might prove rather difficult, however, seeing that he’s dead.”

  A gasp rose in her throat, which she only just managed to silence by pressing a fist against her lips. Trembling, she listened as Everett gave a soft laugh, a chill running over her skin like the stroke of some ghostly hand. If she’d ever harboured even a sliver of doubt regarding his guilt, she certainly had none now. In her estimation, he was as wholly without conscience or remorse as his companion apparently was.

  Abruptly, Everett grew quiet and turned his head in her direction. Angling deeper into the shadows, she pressed her fist tighter against her lips and tried not to so much as breathe. Whispering a silent prayer in her head, she beseeched whatever god might be listening not to let Everett see her through the crack in the door.

  After a long moment he relaxed and glanced away, focusing his attention once more on the note in his hand. “Excellent work,” he pronounced as he slipped the paper into the inner breast pocket of his coat.

  “I am glad you approve,” the stranger replied in a low, silky voice, a hint of sarcasm in his tone. “I dare remain no longer. Unless there is something else of an urgent nature, I shall be going.”

  His words ought to have been her cue to flee, to turn and hurry on soundless feet back to the safety and shelter of the crowded ballroom. Instead, some instinct held her in place, her body motionless as she huddled on the other side of the door.

  She tensed when the stranger strode forward to leave. But instead of moving in her direction, he advanced toward a pair of French doors on the far side of the room. As he passed her vantage point, she tried to get a glimpse of his features, but his profile proved indistinguishable in the dimly lit room. She was left with nothing more than a general impression of a moderately tall man with dark hair and a medium build. He could have been almost anyone.

  A light June breeze blew the sheer curtains inside as he opened the doors. Without stopping to glance back, he stepped over the threshold and was gone.

  Everett, remaining in the room, shut and locked the doors behind him. Then he reached into his coat pocket and withdrew the note he’d been given. Opening it, he took a moment to study the contents. Striding to the fireplace, he paused before the barely smouldering ashes in the hearth, crushed the paper in his fist and tossed it into the grate with a flick of his wrist.

  Knowing she dare not wait a second longer, Meg ran. Halfway down the hall, she saw a partially open door to her left that she hadn’t previously noticed. Without giving herself a second to think, she darted toward it and dashed inside, immediately swallowed by the room’s shielding darkness. Slipping even deeper into the shadows, she waited, her heartbeat drumming so loudly in her ears she feared Everett would surely hear it as he passed.

  Then his footsteps sounded, echoing ever so softly against the marble tiles. She closed her eyes and willed herself not to make a peep, a tight, asphyxiating sensation forming in her throat, as though an invisible hand were cutting off her air.

  His footfalls grew closer, then drew even with the room. Biting the inside of her lip, she waited to see if they would stop and turn to come inside. But instead his footsteps continued on down the hallway, their sound diminishing.

  Meg sagged with relief, the chemise under her stays damp with perspiration. She stood in the darkness for a full five minutes more, not completely trusting that he was gone. Only then did she inch toward the door. Peering around with a cautious eye, she scanned the hallway and found it empty and silent again. Moving out into the corridor, she started in the direction of the ballroom, then suddenly stopped.

  The note, she thought. What was written in that note?

  Whatever it was, Everett had obviously committed the message to memory, since he’d thrown the missive into the fireplace. It was probably ash by now, but what if it wasn’t? There had barely been a fire in the grate. Was it possible enough of the message remained that she could retrieve it? Or a portion of it, at least?

  Worrying the tip of a fingernail between her teeth, she considered her options and knew she could not let the opportunity pass. I’ve come this far, I might as well see it through. Spinning on the balls of her feet, she raced toward the room at the end of the hall.

  The hour was just past two when Cade pressed the latch that controlled the hidden panel leading to Meg’s bedchamber. Easing open the false door, he moved into the room, the flame of his candle flickering as he closed the panel behind him.

  Usually she waited for him in the darkness, but tonight she had not extinguished her bedside candle. Nor was she in bed. Instead she sat near the fireplace in a wing chair, the same one in which he himself had sat on the night he first visited her here. How long ago that all seemed now.

  He crossed to the night table and set down his candlestick. Turning back, he noticed the pensive expression on her face. “Why are you not already abed?” he questioned in a soft voice.

  “I’m not tired.”

  “Even more reason for you to be in bed.” He held out a hand. “Come, and I’ll see if I can help wear you out a bit.”

  She said nothing and did not smile, nor did she make an effort to do as he suggested.

  “What is it?” he asked, his arm dropping to his side.

  “Nothing, I…actually there is something, but…”

  “But what?”

  She rubbed a palm over her rose-hued dressing gown, then looked up and met his gaze. “Promise you will not get angry.”

  His brows furrowed. “And why would I have cause to be angry?”

  “Just promise and I shall tell you.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “Meg—”

  “Promise. And swear you won’t yell, either. I do not want the whole house descending upon us.”

  “I am always careful about that. Though I must point out, the same cannot always be said of you.”

  A pretty wash of colour spread over her cheeks. “Nevertheless,” she continued, “I would have your word as a gentleman.”

  A muscled tightened in his jaw. What was this all about? He wondered with a sudden uncomfortable tug in his gut. “Very well. You have my word that I will not yell. I will also do my utmost to curb any anger that may arise. Now, what is it?”

  “This,” she said. Reaching into her pocket, she drew out a heavily creased piece of writing paper, faint whorls of brown and black along the edges and centre as if the vellum had been partially burned.

  He stared for a long moment. “A note? Why would I yell at you over a note?”

  Her gaze fell, the fingers of her free hand pleating and un-pleating the silken skirt of her dressing gown. “Because it’s not just any note. It…”
/>   “Yes?” he drawled encouragingly.

  “It was meant for Lord Everett, but he threw it in the fireplace, so I plucked it out.”

  “You did what!” he bellowed.

  “You said you wouldn’t yell.”

  He fisted his hands at his sides and wished that he’d never made such an idiotic promise. Drawing a deep, calming breath, he forced himself to speak in a quiet, modulated tone. “What do you mean the note was for Lord Everett?”

  “He had a secret rendezvous with one of his spy contacts tonight where he received this missive.”

  A vein throbbed in his temple as he strove for control. “And how would you know that?”

  “Because I followed him and eavesdropped on the conversation.”

  “You did what!”

  She sent him a reproving look. “You’re yelling again, and in case you don’t realize it, you are starting to repeat yourself.”

  His hands opened and closed at his sides. Careful to keep his voice lowered, he asked his next question in deliberate tones. “Just so I am certain I understand, you trailed Everett out of the ballroom—”

  “No, not out of it,” she interrupted. “I was already in the corridor downstairs from the ballroom, enjoying a quiet moment to myself, when he entered the hallway. I saw him disappear into one of the unoccupied rooms at the far end of the house and knew immediately that he was up to no good.”

  “That blackguard is never up to anything good, a fact of which you are fully aware.” He thrust his hands into his robe pockets and paced a few steps. “Why did you not go back to the ballroom? Why did you not come and find me?”

  Tiny lines puckered the usually smooth surface of her forehead. “There wasn’t time to find you. As for the other, well, I could not stand aside and let whatever he was up to go unobserved.”

  “You certainly could have, and should have. You promised me you would have nothing more to do with the man.”

  “And I have not,” she defended, twisting her fingers together in her lap. “Well, except once when he approached me at the opera—”

  A muscle twitched in his cheek. “He sought you out?”

  “Yes, one evening a few weeks ago, when you were not in attendance. I told him I wanted nothing more to do with him, and he has abided by my wishes. I have not spoken so much as a word to the man since that night.”

  “Why did you not tell me this sooner?”

  “For the same reason I wish I did not feel compelled to tell you about tonight, since I knew how you would react. But there is this note, and I thought it vital that I pass along what I learned.”

  “And what is that exactly?” he bit out, doing his best not to raise his voice. “Did Everett see you?”

  “Of course not.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  An expression of affront crossed her face. “I took great care not to get caught.”

  “But you might have been seen anyway. Do you know the kind of risk you took? Did you even stop to think what might have occurred if he’d found you listening in on him?”

  A faint shudder ran through her. “Of course I did. But it all worked out fine and he and the man he met have no idea I saw them.”

  Cade paced again and raked his fingers through his hair, wanting to rail at her for putting herself in such terrible jeopardy. He wanted to drag her to her feet and give her a long hard shake, scare her enough that she would never, ever consider doing something so foolhardy ever again. They’d been through this once before, and he’d thought the matter resolved. Apparently, he was mistaken.

  Not trusting himself within two feet of her at the moment, he walked over to the bed and sat down. “So who was this other man?” he asked in a strangely flat tone.

  Tension eased visibly from her shoulders now that it seemed he would no longer upbraid her for her actions. “I don’t know. He stayed in the shadows the whole time, so I could not see his face. He sounded English, though, and of the nobility.”

  “And the note? How did you obtain it?”

  “Oh, well, all the details aren’t necessary, but after Everett threw it in the fireplace and returned to the ball, I went back to the room.”

  His lips firmed. “Naturally.”

  “We’re lucky the note wasn’t destroyed, considering it was lying in the grate. But the coals had burned so low there wasn’t enough heat to ignite the paper…well, not much,” she added, holding up the partially seared slip of vellum.

  He repressed the urge to show his teeth. “And what does the note say?”

  “Here,” she said, rising and coming forward. “Maybe you should read it for yourself.”

  Pausing for a moment, he leaned forward to accept it. The sorely abused piece of paper crackled softly between his fingers as he unfolded it along one crease.

  Sunday

  Midnight

  Steybridge Lodge

  A dark, looping signature was affixed at the bottom, the scrawl completely indecipherable.

  “It’s not much,” she said, “but I thought it might be important. A meeting place perhaps.”

  “Perhaps.” Folding it in half again, he tucked the note into his pocket. He decided not to tell her that Steybridge Lodge was a bankrupted estate that had recently been sold on the auction block to an anonymous bidder. Could the new owner be Everett, or did it now belong to someone else entirely? Some other spy? Some new traitor?

  “Sunday is tomorrow,” she continued. “Could it mean midnight tomorrow? Or rather today, since it’s morning already.”

  “I am not sure yet what it means, and you are done speculating on such matters.”

  “But Cade—”

  ‘ “But Cade’ nothing. I gave you my word, now I want yours. You will not engage in any further attempts to eavesdrop or spy on Everett or anyone else with whom he might meet. And in the future, if he so much as looks at you, you are to find me immediately and stick by my side like a burr.”

  “A burr, hmm? That might prove a bit too close for comfort.”

  He yanked her against him, one arm locking behind her legs as she stood between his spread thighs. “This isn’t funny, Meg. You could have been hurt. Your promise, please.”

  She sobered instantly. “You’re right and you have my word. I will never trail Everett again.” Reaching up, she brushed her fingers through his hair. “Actually, it was a rather frightening experience.”

  “As well it should have been.” Inhaling, he worked to throw off the worst of his anger. “It’s late. We should go to bed.”

  “Yes, we should.” Sliding her hand over his cheek, she caressed him. “Are you still in the mood to wear me out a bit?”

  Blood rushed straight to his loins, his arousal springing instantly to life—aching and urgent. Any further conversation about the note and her retrieval of it could wait until later, he decided. Pressing his face against her breasts, he breathed in her sweet, feminine warmth. Wanting more, he clasped her buttocks in his palms and kneaded her pliant flesh. Then, without giving her any warning, he leaned backward across the bed and toppled her across him.

  As they fell she cried out, bouncing against his erection, which was pressed to her stomach like a steel rod. “I guess you are still in the mood,” she murmured, shimmying against him.

  Capturing her mouth with his, he proceeded to show her exactly how much.

  CHAPTER 20

  Cade drew her aside the next morning after breakfast, delaying her departure until everyone else had left. A nod to the servants had them shuffling out and closing the door behind them.

  “I wanted you to know not to expect me tonight,” he told her in a quiet voice. “So do not wait up.”

  Meg turned and set a hand on his sleeve. “You’re going after him, then?”

  “I am going to see if there is anything to the message you foolishly risked life and limb to retrieve. There’s a very great chance Sunday midnight is another Sunday midnight. It could also be a code for something else entirely.”

  She fe
lt lines form across the bridge of her nose. “Do you believe it’s a code?”

  He caught her hand and pressed it flat against his chest. “Whatever it is, don’t worry. I shall return by morning. You’ll barely know I was away.”

  “Away where? I assume you are familiar with the location in the note?”

  He grew silent for a long minute, as if deciding whether to respond. “I’ve never been to Steybridge Lodge, but the property is in Kent. And that is all I plan to say on the subject.”

  Realizing there was no use attempting to pry further, she moved on to another concern. “Are the duke or any of your brothers going with you?”

  “No,” he said, releasing her hand to take a step away. “Nor is there need for them to bother. I plan to do nothing more than a simple reconnoitre, then I will be on the road back to London once more.”

  So he is going alone, she realized, her stomach churning with anxiety. Suddenly she found herself awash in regret, wishing she’d never taken the note out of the fireplace or shown it to Cade. With typical male arrogance, he assumed he could do everything himself. But what if he could not? What if he were wrong?

  “Perhaps you ought to—”

  “Let me handle this, Meg,” he interrupted. “I only told you about my plans because I knew you would fret and do something potentially foolish.”

  “I take umbrage at that characterization, my lord. I may act rashly on occasion, but I am never foolish.”

  He smiled. “I intended no insult, only a dose of well-deserved caution.” Abruptly, he sobered. “Speaking of which, I want your promise you will go to the party tonight with Mama and Mallory, dance and enjoy yourself, as usual, and then come straight home. Is that fully understood?”

  “Completely,” she agreed.

  Of course, just because she went to the party didn’t mean she had to remain the entire time. Nor did his requirements stipulate that she stay home once she returned for the evening. Possibilities raced through her mind, though at the moment she didn’t know which of them she might act upon, if any. Striving not to let her thoughts show, she gave him what she hoped was a concerned yet compliant smile.