Deception

by A. S. Fenichel

  She grinned. “I had intended more stealth, but now that you are assisting me, I like the idea of striding much better.”

  “You must be mad. You seriously planned to break into The Company file rooms and thought you could get away with it.”

  She mumbled something that sounded like, “Oh ye of little faith.”

  “Are you that good, Miss Dellacourt?”

  “I’m the best, Mr. Lambert.”

  His groin responded to her breathy voice and the seduction in her words as if she were talking about an activity far different from her ability to infiltrate the castle.

  * * * *

  By the time they arrived at the posting house, Lillian’s back ached from constant jostling on rutted roads. She longed for a hot bath and a soft bed. Several stable boys ran to take care of the three horses. From the exterior, the inn appeared nicer than most.

  She allowed him to hand her down and even gave Dorian a feminine curtsy to complete the allusion.

  The inn’s charm continued inside, with clean wooden floors, a warm fire, and a lively clientele. A tiny man ran the place. In spite of his bald head, tufts of hair grew prodigiously from his ears. He bubbled with enthusiasm over having such a fine young couple come to stay with them.

  Dorian told the innkeeper they were newly married. This revelation garnered them overwrought excitement and unnecessary attention.

  Lillian worried the innkeeper might have an apoplexy.

  As soon as they were shown up the narrow stairs to a room considered the best, and the door closed, she turned toward her companion. “Why did you tell him we were husband and wife?”

  He shrugged. “I thought it would lead to fewer questions.”

  “You could just as easily have said I was your sister.”

  “Ha, with all that red hair and mine black as night. Who would believe it? I was only thinking of your reputation. There is no need to be cross.”

  She forced a proper scowl and punched her fists into her hips. “I have no reputation, Mr. Lambert. I barely exist in the world outside The Company. Do not bother yourself about protecting me in any way. I am fully capable of doing all things for myself.”

  His smile was slow and devastating. Lillian kept her expression neutral in spite of the bubble of interest in her lower regions. She had work to do. Nothing, not even Dorian Lambert, was a distraction from her goals.

  “Cullum told me you might not like my company. I understand you and Reece Foxjohn were quite a close team. I assure you, my intentions are honorable.”

  “You think Reece and I are lovers? Is that what Cullum thinks as well? We were not the only partners of opposite sex. Is it your opinion, men and women cannot work together without a sexual relationship developing?”

  “I don’t know what Drake Cullum believes or knows. He keeps his own council unless the knowledge is of use to the cause. I am certain men and women are capable of working platonically together. But you must admit you and Foxjohn have a unique rapport.” Dorian sat on the only chair in the room. His long legs spread out in front of him, exaggerating the flex of muscles under his breeches. He looked far too relaxed.

  Her heart pounded loudly. She tried to stay on the subject, though she couldn’t help gazing upward and taking in the full length of him. It was perhaps two years earlier when she had first met the older brother of her instructor from her days as a student. Brice Lambert was dangerous and brilliant with all forms of combat. It had surprised her that Dorian was more intellectual, and even more shocking was that for a man who pushed a quill around and did Cullum’s bidding, he had a fine form and bulged with muscles.

  Now that she thought of it, Drake Cullum looked to be in fighting form as well.

  “If anyone is concerned with my nocturnal activities, they should not speculate. I am not ashamed of anything I have done since joining The Company. Men pop from bed to bed and think nothing of it. I am equally in need of relief from time to time.” Why had she said that? It was far too much information and not quite accurate.

  His dark brows lifted. “Indeed? Then you and Foxjohn are lovers.”

  “I did not say that.”

  “Nor did you refute it.”

  “I need not deny or confirm anything for the files of Drake Cullum or his assistant.”

  “I do not like the way you said ‘assistant.’ You make it sound as if I’m fetching the tea and running errands. I can tell you that who you do or do not engage in sexual congress with is not included in your records with The Company, at least not as far as I’m aware.”

  “Mr. Lambert, I do not care if you like it or not.” She turned and took a good look at the small room, with its one bed tucked up against the wall near the window. “Perhaps we could have a lover’s quarrel at supper and you could ask for another room.”

  He shook his head. Most of his longish hair had come loose from its queue during the day. His dark locks shook. “This is the only available room for the night. I think it might be best if you called me Dorian. I should be honored to call you Lillian, or do you prefer Lilly? I noticed several of your friends use that endearment.”

  Why did her name sound so dammed good from his lips? “Lillian will be fine.”

  “Drake Cullum always calls you Miss Dellacourt. I find it fascinating, since he generally refers to hunters by their Christian names.”

  “It is possible he does not care for me very much”

  “I don’t think that is it. From my conversation with Drake, he esteems you very highly, thinks you are an excellent soldier and quite intelligent.” His grin returned.

  She fidgeted as though she was a girl. It took an effort to still her feet and fingers. “That is very flattering.”

  “You say that with more than a little doubt.”

  “With only a few exceptions, as a rule, I do not trust people of noble birth.”

  Dorian stood and looked out the window. “Drake Cullum holds no title that I am aware of.”

  She matched his amused look, pushing down the urge to kiss that wide mouth of his. “I was speaking of you. You call yourself Mr. Lambert, but you have nobility written all over you. Even your brother, Brice, has moments where his breeding is most evident.”

  “You are very astute, Lillian. My father was the Marquis de Montalembert. He lost his title and lands when we were chased out of France many years ago. England was kind enough to give us sanctuary.”

  “You have no accent. You must have been very young.”

  “I was seventeen. I remember clearly the terror of running from my own country. However, England is home to us now.”

  “And does your father still live?” It was a rude question, but he had maneuvered her into sharing a room. He’d have to deal with her ill-bred ways.

  He faced her, his arms crossed over his broad chest. “Unfortunately, my father passed several years ago.”

  She bowed deeply as if she were the man in the room. “My Lord Marquis.”

  He narrowed his eyes on her. Was he close to losing his calm façade? The idea pleased her more than it should have. What kind of temper did he have? Would he try to strike her? No, she didn’t think so, nor did she think he was the type who yelled and raged. A shiver sparked down her back as she recognized danger. She stood up straight and couldn’t hide her amusement.

  He continued to eye her. “I do not accept that title, but I thank you for the bow and the lovely view of your assets.”

  She glanced down at the low cut line of her dress and wondered how much it had gaped and what he had actually seen. Another woman might have blushed. Lillian shrugged. “You cannot embarrass me, my lord, though you may give it your best attempt. The exercise might prove amusing.”

  Dorian strode across the small room, eating up the space between them in two long steps. Men had been trying to intimidate her all her life. Long ago, she had learned to defend herself. Curiosity kept her rooted to the spot on the floor. What might he do when he reached her? Her confidence in her ability never wavered.
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br />   He was a head taller than her, impressive given her stature. It was rare for her to look up at anyone, but she met his stare. Stopping an inch away, he never touched her. Only his warm breath caressed her cheek. “At first you believed I would detain you, and now you think me ungentlemanly. I must work to improve your opinion of me, Lilly.”

  Her chest tightened at the sound of her familiar name coming from his lips. She shook off the fanciful emotion. “Perhaps we should go down and have supper.”

  He smiled, presumably at the sudden change of subject, before he took a step back. “I will go and make some inquiries and secure a table for our meal. Do you need anything?”

  To cover up her desire to kiss that grin off his face, she surveyed the room. Her trunk sat in the middle of the room, and a basin with clean water rested on the bureau. “No. Thank you. I will join you shortly.”

  With a short bow, he turned and left the room.

  Lillian flopped down on the bed. She flung her arm over her eyes with a dramatic flair. Why did Dorian Lambert have to be so attractive, and why couldn’t she ignore his good looks? She’d worked with Reece for years. Other than a brief error in both of their judgment years earlier, she was never distracted by his handsome face.

  An affair with a man who answered directly to the head of The Company would be a disastrous mistake. Even the notion was crazy. Wasn’t it? She’d have to control her baser instincts. He was a gentleman. He was not likely to assault her. It would be up to her if they were to become more than associates. Most women would be concerned about their virtue spending the night with a virile man, but Lillian could defend herself against an attack. The question was could she defend against her own desire?

  It might be smarter to get into bed and be in a deep sleep by the time Dorian returned to the room. Though cowardly, that was the wise thing to do. Her stomach grumbled in protest. “Oh, fine.”

  She washed her face in the cool water, changed out of her traveling clothes, and put on a clean gown suited to supping in a coaching house. It was the least ornate dress she owned, but the rich blue suited her and the deep neckline delighted the opposite sex. Would her companion find her attractive?

  It’s irrelevant.

  Lillian brushed and twisted her long hair into a severe chignon before making her way out of the room and down to the main floor where beer and stories were flowing in great quantities.

  She disregarded the brief silence, which punctuated her arrival in the tavern. Dorian and the inn keeper met her halfway across the room.

  He led them to a private room where a small feast was served by a buxom waitress who seemed intent on rubbing all of her endowments against Dorian at every opportunity. It annoyed Lillian to no end, though she couldn’t imagine why.

  The server walked back into the main dining room.

  “You look quite lovely in that dress,” he said.

  “Thank you.”

  “You also looked as if you might draw your weapon on the poor serving girl.”

  Damn. “You are mistaken, sir. I was merely thinking about Shafton.”

  If he knew she was lying, he did nothing to push the issue further.

  After they’d finished the meal, he offered his hand and led her back to their room. Lillian’s heart raced. “Please wait in the hall until I change for the night.”

  “Of course, my lady.”

  He opened the door to the room, and she crossed the threshold. “I am no one’s lady, my lord.”

  His grin sent a shiver straight to her belly and lower, and after the door closed, his presence still warmed her.

  It only took her a few minutes to remove the gown. She had all her clothing designed for ease and functionality. She’d never required a lady’s maid to dress or undress, nor did skirts and stays hinder her in battle. Yet she could pass for a fine lady if the need arose, as it often did.

  She pulled the pins out of her hair and let the long locks fall around her shoulders. In only her chemise, she slid under the blanket. “You may enter.”

  The knob turned and Dorian entered the room. He stopped when he saw her, eased the door shut, and bolted it. He never took his gaze away from her. “I shall sleep on the floor.”

  She studied the dusty wood planks and up at him.

  He tugged at his cravat until the cloth hung loose around his neck, then sat to pull off his riding boots.

  “I do not think you will get much rest on the hard floor.”

  He stopped and looked at her. “What do you suggest?”

  She scooted to one side of the bed. “Sleep on top of the blankets. I’m not concerned you will try to rape me, Dorian.”

  He left his trousers and blouse on and approached the bed. Her heart was near to pounding out of her breast. It was a sensible offer, and yet she wondered if she’d made a misjudgment.

  The intensity of his gaze was enough to warm her entire body.

  “You are correct in that I never take what is not offered freely and with some enthusiasm, Lilly.”

  “Then we should be able to pass the night together without my having to kill you.” Her voice sounded strained. Had he heard it?

  If so, he was too much a gentleman to say anything. Dorian sat and put out the lantern before stretching out beside her. The heat of his body seeped through the bedding, warming her from top to bottom. It was going to be a lengthy night.

  The waxing moon shone through the window. He turned his head and met her stare. “I think it will be a long night.”

  She giggled. “I should lie and tell you that you are being a foolish man, but I cannot. It is uncomfortable to share a bed with a stranger.”

  “Is that what we are?”

  “I barely know you.” Her heart jumped.

  He smiled and rolled to his side, facing her. “And yet, I feel I have known you for years.”

  “How so?”

  “My brother, Brice, often writes me about his students. You were the topic of many stories when he trained you. Those letters got me through many desperate nights.”

  He had an advantage over her. Her instincts told her to move away, but there was no place to go in the small bed, and the notion of spending the night on the floor did not appeal to her. “Where were you?”

  “I had a commission in the army.”

  “You fought the French?”

  “Do not sound so surprised. France abandoned my family while England gave us a home. My loyalties are quite clear.”

  “Interesting.”

  He smiled. “Tell me about your suspicions of Shafton. We can talk until I am too tired to think about your stunning body lying just inches away under the blanket.”

  His nearness distracted her from the seething anger that often returned at the mention of Shafton’s name. “You saw how he reacted during the meeting. Why would he become so unreasonable unless he had something to hide?”

  “He is tasked with gaining intelligence. Perhaps he was merely deflecting the blame. He has had little success in finding vital information.”

  Normally she’d feel the rise of fire in her belly. Anyone who defended that miserable nobleman was asking for a scolding from Lillian. Even so, his calm voice in the moonlight, the warmth of his body so close to hers, and the intimacy of the setting, it was as if a balm fell over her. “I believe there is more to it. Why does he not acknowledge his daughter’s life was saved or that the master was damaged in the ascension?”

  “He did say he felt you had made the wrong choice in saving the countess rather than focusing on destroying the ritual.” He pushed a stray hair back from her cheek.

  The touch set her body on fire. She swallowed the lump clogging her throat. “Do you believe that, Dorian?”

  He closed his eyes briefly. Was he as affected by their closeness as she was? His dark gaze trapped her. “I have read the report several times. I don’t see how you could have acted in any other way. I believe Belinda was and is too valuable to The Company to be sacrificed without the assurance her death would bri
ng us victory. Also, she was necessary to the success of the ascension. By removing her, you succeeded in damaging the master.”

  He opened his mouth as if to say more, then closed it again and sighed.

  “And?”

  He leaned in until his lips were only an inch from hers. “And the sound of my name on your lips in our current setting is the sweetest thing I have ever heard.”

  She tried to back away, but the wall behind her gave her nowhere to go. “Dorian, I…”

  He kissed the tip of her nose and smiled. “I know, Lilly, but you asked.”

  Did he really know how much she was torn between giving her body to him and tossing him from the room for their protection? Could he possibly understand her in so short a time? Her closest friends didn’t comprehend her adversity to romantic relationships or people with noble backgrounds. “I think we should try to sleep.”

  “Roll over?”

  Her entire body stiffened. “What? Why?”

  “Trust me, Lilly.”

  “I don’t trust anyone.”

  His expression was unreadable. “And yet, I’m asking for one small leap of faith. Turn on your other side.”

  She’d left her weapons across the room. That in itself was an act of faith. Of course, she was strong enough without a blade to protect herself from one man. She met his stare for a long moment, then rolled over onto her right side, facing the wall.

  When she settled, Dorian’s chest pressed to her back. The blanket still separated them, but his hand rested along her hip and his breath warmed her neck. There was no longer any doubt about his desire as the evidence pressed against her bottom. His knees curled in behind hers. She wanted to jump from the bed and find herself a place on the floor to sleep, but her muscles relaxed into his embrace, and her eyes closed as a sigh escaped her lips.

  “This is a dangerous road we’re on, Dorian. I think—”

  “Shh. Don’t think so much. Life is short, Lilly. This is a small pleasure.” His hand slipped around her waist, and he pulled her tighter against him.

  It was impossible to argue with his statement, so she allowed the delight of another person’s touch lull her to sleep.