If He's Tempted

by Hannah Howell

  “Why? Are not all women expected to become wives? To bed down with their husband every night?”

  “And you think knowing about such things while still innocent is a good idea?”

  “I think too much ignorance is a bad idea. Be honest with me, Brant. Were you disappointed that I was not a virgin?”

  “As good as,” he murmured and thought about it for a moment. “No. I was not. Bedding a virgin, something I have never done but have heard a lot of talk about, does not sound like it is so very enjoyable. I even had one friend whose wife swooned at the sight of him naked on their wedding night. Turns out she thought he had some strange mutation.” He grinned when she started giggling. “Yes, we all laughed, too, but thinking on it, it isn’t all that funny when you are the man standing there with your new bride, a woman he loved dearly, so he said, in a limp pile at your feet. So perhaps some knowledge would be good but I suspect few will ever get it. It would worry parents that their virginal little darling might attempt to find out for herself if all they told her was true.”

  “Foolish.” She trailed her fingers up and down his belly. “So kissing one anywhere is acceptable? Like riding you is acceptable?”

  “Yes. If both enjoy it, it is acceptable.”

  He gasped when she suddenly dove beneath the coverlet. Brant then tensed when he felt the warmth of her lips and tongue on his stomach. Although he was hoping she intended to do what he hoped she would do, he promised himself he would not press her to do so. Then she ran her tongue up the length of his already hard shaft and he closed his eyes, losing himself in the pleasure of it.

  “Olympia!”

  She swatted at the hand shaking her shoulder. “G’way.”

  “Wake up. Something has happened at Myrtledowns.”

  Olympia woke up and sat up. She was groggy but growing less so by the moment as fear pushed aside her sleepiness and invaded her heart. Quickly rubbing the sleep from her eyes she looked up at a half-dressed Brant standing by the bed.

  “What do you mean something has happened at Myrtledowns?”

  “Someone tried to take your son,” he answered and quickly grabbed her by the arm when she went pale as he was certain she was about to swoon.

  “Who brought the message?”

  “One of your stable hands. Hugh Pugh, I believe he said.”

  She leapt out of bed and began to dress. “That is his name. I need to speak with him and then pack and get down to Myrtledowns.”

  “I will take you. I can have the carriage here in a very short time.”

  Olympia watched him throw on his shirt and hurry out the door. So much for their love affair being a secret, she thought, and then shrugged. Trouble from her family over her taking a man to her bed was the least of her worries.

  She yanked on her slippers and hurried out the door. Hugh stood at the base of the stairs looking tired and sweat-soaked. Olympia nearly leapt down the rest of the stairs and grabbed him by the arm.

  “Ilar?”

  “He is just fine, m’lady. Just fine. Magistrate has one of the men who tried to take the boy locked up. May be something he can tell you.”

  “How did they get to him?”

  “Came in as men delivering the coal. Old Moll was not paying attention for she was making the bread for the parish poor—her turn you know and all—and so they slipped right inside the house. Knocked out poor Moll and then went through the house. The boy was napping in the library. Said the book he was trying to read had put him right to sleep.” Hugh briefly grinned. “Then he woke up to find two men trying to hogtie him. He managed to get loose and then the fun began.”

  “Oh, dear, he used his gift,” she muttered and ran a hand over her hair. “That news could spread fast.”

  “Who will be believing a couple of fools who could not even kidnap a skinny lad, eh? Folk will just think the men are trying to hide the fact that they are such poor fighters they could not even hold fast to a child.”

  “I have the carriage, Olympia,” Brant said as he reached her side and held up a small bag. “Also packed a few things.”

  “Of course. I must do the same.”

  She raced back to her bedchamber, looked at the remains of Brant’s lovely dinner for two, and sighed. It was nearly dawn and she had looked forward to waking up in his arms for one more bout of lovemaking before he had to slip back to his house. Then again, now that everyone undoubtedly knew he had been in her bed, that slipping away before everyone woke up could stop, she decided as she began to throw some clothes into a bag.

  Once she brought the bag downstairs, she looked at Hugh, Pawl standing beside him. “You rest, Hugh. Come back to Myrtledowns after you have had a rest and a good meal. Brant and I will be fine.”

  “I will do that then, m’lady. And you are not to worry, the boy is fine.”

  Easier said than done, she thought as she climbed into the carriage followed by Brant. There were several things to worry about. Who would try to steal her son? In all the years they had lived at Myrtledowns, the baron’s ancestral home, no one had troubled them, not even Maynard’s family who had resented the loss of title and land a lot in the beginning. Nor did they have the kind of fortune that would prompt an attempt at kidnapping. They had never even dealt in politics. That left only one thing.

  Lady Mallam had tried to steal her son. The woman was either going to do to Ilar as she had done with so many others, or use the boy to make Olympia do as she bid her to. If it was not so frightening it would be funny. The woman had no idea what she had been about to steal or that hell would rain down on her because she had attempted such a thing.

  Taking a deep breath she told Brant all Hugh had said and he frowned. Then a tight look came over his face and she knew he had just reached the same conclusion she had. She moved to sit beside him and, after a moment of tense silence, he put an arm around her shoulders and held her close. He may have thought he had understood the full truth of what his mother was, but, even if he did, it had to sting to hear of yet another sin she had committed.

  Or tried to, Olympia mused, and actually smiled. Letitia had just poked the wrong wasp nest. Now her family would come in droves and what she had not already found, they would uncover for her.

  “I am so very sorry,” Brant said and kissed the top of her head.

  “You have nothing to apologize for. Believe me, Brant, our family is littered with bad mothers, and fathers, and a few others, and when a Wherlocke is bad, it can get ugly. Our mothers walk away from husband and children. Our fathers walk away, too, but not as often. One cannot choose one’s parents. We do not all get someone like Stone.”

  “No, we do not. Henry is a very lucky child. Stone not only loves his son and has no trouble revealing that but he is a good man, a stable man who does not shy from work, drinks little, and, I suspect, was utterly faithful to his mad wife.”

  “They are a treasure. Most of the men in my family, when they wed, they hold to vows taken. I think that is one reason the wives walking away because they cannot abide what we are, thinking we are all Satan’s children or some idiotic thing, is such a hard blow. It is also why so many of the men in my family are rather slow to marry.”

  “Who can blame them?”

  “Well, we have instituted a few new family rules. The one who wants to marry someone who is not gifted is to tell the person they want to wed before the wedding. On hand will be one of the ones who have Argus’s gift. In most cases, the proposal, sometimes even the intent to wed, can be taken from the person’s mind. Not completely, of course, but it is not something I can understand all that well, either because it is beyond my ken or because the ones who have the gift just cannot explain it clearly. As we all agreed, better the heart break before the wedding and the children.”

  “It truly can be more of a burden than a gift then.”

  “Aye, although acceptance gets easier with each generation, with the distance from the past of witch hunts and fears of Satan in anything or anyone unusual. Your mother
, however, well, I could easily be made to believe she is the child of Satan.”

  “I begin to think she is ill in her mind.”

  “But not in the usual way. There has never been anything to make people think her even a little odd. I still believe she was born with something missing.”

  “Like a conscience.”

  “You are certain her men did not hurt the boy?”

  “Hugh would not lie about that. My other concern is how Ilar managed to escape being taken. He used his gift. I gather my library is now a mess. They even managed to capture one so we might finally have some answers, some witness we can use against her.”

  “That would be a good thing but I believe I will not get my hopes up.”

  Olympia rested her head against his shoulder and tried to still the fear writhing inside her. She needed to make plans to keep Ilar safe until Letitia Mallam was no longer a danger. She could not do so when she was so tied up with fear for her child.

  Brant’s mother had borne six children yet she had not one maternal bone in her body. The woman treated children, even her own, as nothing more than merchandise. Coming from a family that, despite a long history of one parent deserting the other and fearing the children, loved children dearly, she did not understand such a woman, could not understand her. It was going to be difficult to defend against such a woman. Olympia found comfort in the thought that Lady Mallam was not a woman to do her work herself.

  “She fears you,” said Brant as he rested his head back against the squabs and closed his eyes. “That is what this is all about.”

  “Do you think she believes what is whispered about the Wherlockes and their cousins the Vaughns?” Olympia asked, fearing that her son’s gifts were why the woman wanted him.

  “I would not have thought so. She does not have any imagination so why would she believe in something that even those who do possess imagination question and fear?”

  “True. That is relief. If she ever discovered that what is whispered about us is true,” Olympia said, shuddering faintly as a wave of cold fear went through her, “I do not think any of our children would be safe. Your mother knows how to get people in and out of places, or she hires ones who do.”

  “Well, except for one of the ones who went into your library.”

  Olympia grinned. “Very true.”

  “I think we should rest. It is not a long journey to your home but it will give us a nice rest so that we can face the trouble at Myrtledowns with a clear head.”

  “Agreed,” she said and bit back the urge to tell him that he was now using the word we.

  She closed her eyes but doubted sleep would come. After hearing that someone had tried to take her son, Olympia suspected there would be a lot of nights ahead where she would find going to sleep difficult. There had never been a threat to him before and she had no knowledge of how well she could arrange things so that he need never fear a threat again.

  Ilar was also going to be quite full of himself, she mused, and found she could smile about it. Since the use of his gift had saved him, she would not be able to scold him for using it before strangers. She also suspected that her aunt was spoiling the boy right now. Even Tessa might be there doing the same by the time Olympia arrived.

  She wanted to hold her boy right now. Wanted to hear his heartbeat and watch him breathe. The thought of anyone taking her child, of hurting him in any way, terrified her to her very soul. He was her treasure. She had always doubted that she would ever have another child. And now, with the man she loved snoring softly beside her, she was even more certain that her future was a barren one.

  For a moment Olympia just stared at the coat her cheek was resting against. The thoughts continued to swirl through her mind until she actually realized what she had just admitted, silently, to herself. She loved Brant.

  “Oh hell.”

  Chapter 14

  Brant stared at the house the carriage rolled to a stop in front of. It was built of a soft gray stone, elegant, and massive. He was a little surprised there was no moat as there were turrets on each corner of the square building. What could have been a rather stark home had been softened with trees and flowers. It welcomed despite the austerity that one first saw.

  Olympia leapt out of the carriage and he quickly collected her bag. Telling the driver to wait for a moment and he would find out where the man could bed down and get some food if he preferred, he followed Olympia into the house.

  The inside of the house revealed that one of the barons had once had a lot of money or had blithely sunk his whole family deep into debt. The floors were black-veined marble, polished to a shine except for where Olympia’s shoes had left a mark. The walls were all wood, a dark wood, but he was no expert on how to guess what wood it was. It just looked warm and rich to him, expensive. All the doors he could see were heavy oak with carvings. Whoever had had this house built had buried a fortune into it.

  A tall, lean man hurried toward them from the back of the hall. “M’lady! We had not expected you to come so quickly. Hugh must have flown to London.”

  “I suspect he did, Jones Two. He certainly looked exhausted. I told him to rest before attempting to return. The fact that he did tells me that not only was he tired but he believed the horse needed a rest as well. Hugh babies his horses,” she told Brant with a glance over her shoulder and then she turned back to her butler. “This is the Earl of Fieldgate, Lord Brant Mallam.”

  “My lord, I will see that a room is readied for you.”

  “Thank you, Jones Two.” Brant handed the man their bags when he reached for them. “The driver of our carriage will need a place to sleep and some food.”

  “That will be seen to as well. M’lady, the young master is in the library with your aunt and cousin, attempting to clean up in there.”

  “Thank you, Jones Two.”

  Olympia was already striding along the hall as she spoke and Brant hurried to catch up with her. She stopped before two elaborately carved doors depicting nymphs romping in the water, took a deep breath, and opened the doors. Brant followed her into the room and looked around at utter chaos. Most of the shelves in the library had been cleared of books. Several chairs were set in a far corner and he could see at a glance that they would need some repair. Piles of books were stacked up near the shelves but many still littered the floor. He looked up at Olympia and watched her turn slowly, surveying every inch of the room.

  “I am pleased to see that you did not break the lamps this time, Ilar,” she said and smiled at the tall, thin boy rising to his feet from where he had been on the floor stacking books.

  “Mother!” He ran into her arms. “I am so glad you have come home. We had a great deal of excitement here.”

  “I can see that.” She held her son close for a moment, reassuring herself that he was alive and all too painfully aware of the fact that just one more surge of growth and he would be taller than her. “I have brought some company with me.” She turned Ilar toward Brant and introduced them to each other. “And this is my aunt, Antigone Wherlocke.” She nodded to the older woman who now stood next to her. “And my cousin, Mrs. Tessa Vaughn.”

  Brant bowed to the woman who watched him a little too closely with her deep brown eyes. “I am pleased to meet you all.”

  “Are you certain you are Fieldgate?” Tessa asked, wiping her dusty hands on the voluminous apron she wore over her green gown.

  “Tessa! Of course he is,” snapped Olympia. “Do you think I would not know?”

  “Nay. ’Tis just that he does not look or feel like the drunken debauchee one hears about.”

  “Oh. Well, no he is not a drunk. As for the debauchee,” she said and grunted when Brant elbowed her in the back. “No more than many another man of the gentry.”

  “Thank you,” muttered Brant. “You are too kind.”

  Olympia exchanged a grin with Tessa before looking at her aunt. “Do you have any idea why someone would try to take Ilar?”

  “None. I believe the trou
ble came down from London. The men had the city manner of speech. I heard quite a bit when the one who was caught was threatening us all.”

  “Then let us have something to eat and drink and Ilar can tell me his part of the tale. Then I should like to hear yours, Aunt Tig.”

  “I could tell you a tale or two as well,” offered Tessa.

  “You were here when it happened?” Olympia asked, knowing it was rude to keep Brant tromping along at her heels like some pet dog but she was unable to release her son yet.

  “Nay, but I could still tell you a tale or two if you would like.” She winked at Olympia and they both laughed.

  Brant felt a little ignored at the moment but he understood. He doubted a team of oxen could drag Olympia’s arm away from her son. He was a good-looking boy with his glossy, wavy, black hair and eyes just like his mother’s. His features were beginning to lose their boyish softness and he would be as handsome as so many of his other relatives. What was easy to see in the way the boy held Olympia and smiled at her, was that Ilar loved his mother very much.

  They entered a room that had a great deal more of a feminine touch than the library. It had drapes in a soft blue, matching one of the colors in the carpet, and the walls were painted a soft rose color, not one he had ever seen before. Olympia waved him to a seat next to her, seating Ilar on her other side, her aunt at the head of the table, and the irrepressible Tessa in the seat opposite her. A few moments later the butler led in three servants who unloaded a great deal of food plus coffee and tea onto the table. A quick look out the window told Brant it was indeed time to break his fast.

  “So, Ilar, tell me what you recall,” said Olympia as she piled some eggs on her plate.

  “I was sleeping in the library,” the boy said. “I had not intended to have a nap but the book I chose to read was very, painfully boring. Anyway, I woke to the sound of a footfall and a sharp sense of something just wrong. As I got up off the settee and set my book down on the table I got the distinct feeling that someone was watching me. I opened my eyes and this huge, very hirsute fellow was reaching for me. I leapt off the settee and started to run but one caught me. The other tried to get a gag over my mouth for I was making a lot of noise. I was kicking and screaming and then I thought to myself, well, why am I getting all asweat?”