Wicked Rivals

by Lauren Smith

  Lucien returned to his newspaper. “By the way, Godric, The Gazette mentioned our time in Covent Garden last week.”

  “Oh? I am almost afraid to ask how our evening was relayed.” Godric collected the tray of coffee and hot chocolate from the sideboard. Emily watched him pour his coffee, taking it black. Lucien flicked his eyes back to the paper, scanning some article. “They heard about the incident with the stolen swans…but they got the number of ladies involved wrong. Underestimated our appeal to the fairer sex again.”

  The men at the table all laughed at whatever antics they had been up to. Emily was certain she didn’t want to know the details. Whatever swans, ladies and Covent Garden had in common was likely to shock her.

  Undeterred by this change in topic, Cedric once more demanded to know of Anne’s interest in him.

  “Anne has certainly mentioned you quite often.” It was true. Anne complained constantly about Cedric, but Emily knew she rather liked the attention.

  Cedric reached for the plate of fruit. “What does she say?”

  “You can’t expect me to break the vows of friendship?” she asked, widening her eyes in mock innocence.

  “Expect? Miss Parr, I quite demand it.”

  Emily imagined no one ever refused Cedric anything.

  Rather than answer him immediately, she looked back to Godric. She justified her fascination by telling herself he was like a wolf. One must always keep an eye on the creature that could do one the most harm.

  Godric poured a cup of chocolate for her. Her stomach rumbled at the dark liquid that swirled in her cup. He took a tiny porcelain pot and opened it to pinch at the ground cinnamon, which he sprinkled on top. It was perhaps the strangest and sweetest gesture a man had ever made for her, as though seeing to her needs and pleasures were a natural instinct.

  Emily turned back to Cedric, who still waited for an answer.

  “Your attentions on Anne have been duly noted.”

  “So I’m successful in my pursuit?”

  “I would not go so far as to say that, but she is thankful that your attentiveness has discouraged others.”

  “In other words,” Lucien chimed in, “she’d rather fight you off than half the men in London.”

  A little laugh escaped Emily, and Lucien winked. She’d been under the impression he’d been reading his newspaper, and she decided she liked him. Villain or not, she admired his humor.

  The thought stopped her cold. She didn’t want to like Lucien, nor did she want her only moments of joy in this life to be with the men who had abducted her.

  “At least I’m not resigned to bachelorhood, like someone I know.” Cedric whipped his head pointedly in Lucien’s direction. “I am simply very selective.”

  Godric took Emily’s plate and filled it with a little bit of everything before he sat down and replaced it before her.

  “Thank you, Your Grace,” she said demurely.

  “Oh, come now, if you call Cedric by his name you must call me Godric.” The seductive glint in his eyes flushed her with heat. How could this be the same man that minutes ago growled at her and pulled her fully beneath him? Emily’s face flamed with embarrassment, but no one noticed.

  The Marquess then chimed in. “And call me Lucien. I don’t like to ‘lord’ myself over my new friends.”

  “Perish the thought.” Ashton sniggered as he and Charles walked in. Charles’s face was drawn with weariness, but he was still as handsome as the others with his golden hair and gray eyes.

  “Morning, all,” Charles mumbled as he plopped down on Godric’s other side.

  A flicker of concern washed through Emily as she took in the man’s appearance. His clothes were immaculate, his tan breeches snug on his muscled thighs, and his silver satin vest sparkled faintly in the morning sun. But his sleep-tousled hair was unkempt, the wild halo of a rogue angel about his brow. Strain laced his eyes and his voice sounded rough, like a man who’d screamed until hoarse. Something wasn’t right about this…she could sense it.

  The room seemed filled with companionship, and an air of intimacy between them that struck Emily as beautiful in the way only true friendships could be. For a brief moment she forgot the dangerous circumstances that brought her here and lost herself in the shared smiles and teasing banter of the rogues.

  What would it be like to be counted among their friends? As their captive, she was very alone, like a hungry dog that looked through a butcher’s window on a winter’s night. The chill of this position stung deep inside her soul. Emily ducked her head and took a bite of her breakfast.

  In the span of a few short minutes, she’d come to understand them better. They were reasonable men, even if they had wickedly seductive tendencies where women were concerned. If she approached them with logic, and argued her case for freedom…

  Maybe if I tell Godric I could produce Uncle Albert’s account books, he could take it up with the magistrate. Then justice would be meted out and she could go back to London.

  “Coffee, Charles?” Before the man answered, Godric poured him a cup.

  “Can someone pass the toast?” Charles asked.

  Cedric slid the toast rack in his direction. Emily at first only nibbled on her food, but soon hunger overtook her, and she dug into her well laden plate.

  Emily discovered what was so oddly comforting about this meal. The five men were so at ease with one another. They were almost like a family. What could have drawn these five men together so?

  Charles spread liberal amounts of raspberry jam on his toast, gleeful as a boy stealing cherry tarts from the kitchen.

  “Charles, you had better eat more than just toast. Have some fruit.” Ashton slid the tray of pears, apples and plums past Emily and Godric.

  “Fine, fine.”

  It amused Emily to watch them mother Charles. Her tiny smile caught Charles’s attention.

  “I expected them all to fret over you, Miss Parr, allowing me to escape their coddling for a few days, but you’ve failed me,” he teased. “Shame on you.” The earl’s eyes were a sharp grey, clear and deep in their intensity.

  Emily’s cheeks flamed when Charles’s gaze slid along her body.

  Lucien’s voice broke the tension that settled because of Charles’s wandering gaze. “Would you like us to fret over you, Miss Parr? Perhaps that ought to be your job, Charles.” Lucien ducked behind his newspaper, narrowly avoiding sliver of pear that looked suspiciously like the one Charles had begun to eat.

  “Please, I would have no one fret over me,” said Emily

  “Well, fret we shall, Miss Parr, because I fear you will attempt a third escape,” Godric said.

  Emily returned her attention to Godric. She had begun to appreciate the other men and enjoy their company, circumstances aside. Godric however… The man deserved another well placed slap. It was just her luck that marriage to him would mitigate her ruination, assuming she could even convince him to such a course of action. She narrowed her gaze and pursed her lips. To her sheer frustration, the duke laughed.

  Ashton spoke up, his blue eyes fixed on her. “Third? As in, she tried a second time?”

  Emily stared down at her plate. She was to be mocked now? The merriment that came at her expense spurred them on.

  “She tried to escape through my bedchamber, practically stole the keys right off my wrist.” He jangled the keys she’d fought for over the table. Emily nearly sagged in relief when Godric failed to mention that he’d tackled her to the floor in the hallway outside.

  Charles smirked into his coffee cup. “Bet you woke him right up doing that.”

  Godric pretended to stretch and thumped Charles soundly on the back. He spilled his coffee, and his eyes cast daggers at Godric.

  “Manners, Charles, manners,” Ashton intoned in a schoolmaster’s voice. “Now, Miss Parr, could we beseech you to refrain from any further attempts at escape? I assume you know why you were brought here, and that leaving now would only create more scandal. Best to ride out the storm and let
Godric see to your needs while you remain here.”

  Emily ground her teeth in frustration. The men had pretended to use reason and good sense in taking her and would likely not listen to her pleas. Abandon my original plan of persuasion, and prepare for war, she thought, then raised her chin. “I apologize, Lord Lennox, but it is my duty to escape your clutches and return to my uncle.” There, she’d done it. Whatever might come, she had to free herself from Godric and his friends.

  “Our clutches? You really think us villains, don’t you?” Godric leaned forward, resting one elbow on the table as he stared at her. “I suppose we are, aren’t we?” The idea seemed to amuse him and he laughed, the sound low and rich.

  Emily dropped her eyes to the snowy tablecloth and did her best not to shout. She wanted her life back, her freedom.

  “Please…just let me go.” Emily bit her lip as Godric caught her chin and turned her face towards his. The others watched her and Godric with interest. Her cheeks flamed.

  “It isn’t that simple, darling.”

  “How is it not?” Emily slapped his hand away from her face, and jumped up from the chair. With lightning speed every man in the room was on his feet, watching, waiting for her to run. Godric put his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her back into her seat.

  “Come now, sweetheart. You’ll enjoy being here. I promise that you will like us.”

  They were trying to appease her, but she would not be so easily controlled. The dam that had kept her volatile emotions at bay burst. “Like you? How can I like any of you? You’ve abducted me! Am I to be grateful? Laugh as though it is some joke? Just by bringing me here, you’ve compromised me! Do you really have nothing better to do with yourselves?” Emily gasped and buried her face in her napkin.

  Tears of rage escaped her eyes. All her life she’d been well behaved, yet these men reduced her to shouts.

  I am not a child. I am a grown woman. She stilled her shaking and dabbed her napkin at the stray tears that coated her cheeks. She had to master her wrath before the situation worsened. Crying, even out of fury, would do her no good.

  “Don’t blame them. Blame me,” Godric said. The weight of his hands eased a little.

  “I am sorry, my lords.” She brushed a palm against her cheek to wipe the tears. “But you must understand—I will not be cowed into complacency. You’ve done me a great wrong and I will not make it easy for you. You’ve destroyed my reputation and blackened my name with scandal. I will not sit back and let you dictate the rest of my life.”

  Her vow was met with shocked silence, as it should have been. Emily was more than aware she was naïve and innocent of many things, but she wasn’t a fool. There would be no way to survive the scandal untainted, and she had to make these men compensate her for the loss of her future.

  No one would ever break her, especially not an arrogant duke.

  About the Author

  Lauren Smith is an Oklahoma attorney by day, author by night for Grand Central Publishing, who pens adventurous and edgy romance stories by the light of her smartphone flashlight app. She knew she was destined to be a romance writer when she attempted to rewrite the entire Titanic movie just to save Jack from drowning. Connecting with readers by writing emotionally moving, realistic and sexy romances no matter what time period is her passion. She has won multiple awards in several romance subgenres, including New England Readers’ Choice Awards, Greater Detroit Booksellers’ Best Awards, Amazon.com Breakthrough Novel Award quarter-finalist and a semifinalist for the Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley Award. To connect with Lauren, visit her at www.laurensmithbooks.com or Twitter at @LSmithAuthor. For news of her latest releases and upcoming stories, be sure to sign up for her newsletter through her website!