Wicked Designs

by Lauren Smith

  “I thank you, Emily, but I’d much rather steal you away from that odious duke there.” Charles nodded his head in Godric’s direction.

  Under the cover of the table Godric’s right hand settled on Emily’s knee. The heat of his large palm warmed her skin through the thin silk, but his hand merely patted her knee before vanishing again. It took her all her self-control to prevent a sigh upon being robbed of his caress, the warmth of his touch.

  After dinner the party retired to the drawing room where the men poured glasses of port. Choosing then to retire, Emily made her excuses and left the men to drink.

  Emily had reached the stairs when a whisper of silk on wood froze her in her steps.

  Evangeline emerged from the shadows behind the staircase. “Tell me. How do you find your stay here? Your captor treats you well?”

  Emily, unprepared for this remark, blanched. “Pardon?”

  “Don’t look so surprised. I know Godric and his friends have abducted you.”

  Emily recovered quickly. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

  “Lying does not become you, Miss Parr.” Evangeline smiled, and Emily knew that the fear in her chest reflected in her features.

  “I’m here of my own free will.”

  “Of course. No doubt you are enjoying the warmth of Godric’s bed. You would not be the first. He does love to seduce innocent little creatures. It fans his pride, you see.” Evangeline’s words dug under Emily’s skin.

  “You’re wrong about him,” Emily said, but the words felt thick and heavy on her tongue.

  “May I might offer some advice, Miss Parr? Leave here and return to London. Godric will only break that delicate little heart of yours, or leave you with child. Even if he did care about you…I fear that would not stop Monsieur Blankenship from pursuing you. He is a very dedicated man.”

  “What?” How could Evangeline know about Blankenship?

  Evangeline hesitated, and the first hint of genuine emotion trespassed across her features. “I will be honest with you, I believe it would suit us both better. Monsieur Blankenship came to my residence. He told me of your abduction. I sensed right away he was… I forget the word…” A tiny crinkle furrowed her brow.

  “Mad?” Emily supplied.

  “Oui. Mad as Robespierre. He paid me to come here and provide information on you. He has more power than you would expect. Consequences do not matter to him, only getting what he wants. But then you know this.”

  “Yes,” Emily admitted.

  “What you do not know is that he’s hired men to retrieve you. Mercenaries, I am told. They are the lowest, vilest of men. Men who would happily murder Godric and his friends if they tried to protect you.”

  Emily felt the blood drain from her face. “How do you know this?”

  “Monsieur Blankenship boasted of his scheme. I do not wish to see bloodshed. It is vile and even I do not want to see Godric or his companions harmed. You must leave this place and convince Monsieur Blankenship you have left, or I am certain he will harm Godric and the others.” Evangeline plucked at one of her white silk sleeves but the woman’s hands trembled slightly. She was telling the truth.

  “He… No… I can’t leave, even if I wanted to,” Emily said, more to herself than Evangeline. She knew that, between her love of Godric and his own iron hand over her freedom, she could never leave. It would be impossible.

  “It is not an easy decision, I understand. You are a pawn in other men’s games. Although I am loath to admit it, at the moment, I am as well. Pawns are always sacrificed. It is not fair, but that is our lot, n’est pas? If you do not go, Godric will die.”

  Evangeline was right. Godric would only get himself killed trying to protect her. What choice did she have? She was a pawn.

  “The thing about pawns,” Emily said, almost to herself, “is if they reach the other end of the board, they become a queen.”

  A smile flitted across Evangeline’s lips. “You play chess. Très bien. Monsieur Blankenship expects you to come to him at once, and though it is not my place to say, I think you should not go to him. I wish you gone from Godric’s life, but I do not wish you to fall into the hands of a madman. Find someone to take you in. You are a beautiful girl, and I believe you are no fool. You can find a protector.” Again, she paused, as though lost in memories. “It is how I survived. I am still crossing the board, as it were.”

  Emily wasn’t sure how to react. She was taking advice from Godric’s former mistress and finding she reluctantly admired the woman. “Th…thank you, Miss Mirabeau.”

  Evangeline nodded and left her alone.

  Emily couldn’t let Godric or the others get hurt, which meant she would have to leave immediately. But she needed to find Jonathan Helprin first. Jonathan was driving the cart to Blackbriar for supplies, that much she knew. Jonathan’s open friendliness with Godric’s friends was improper, even rebellious after a fashion. It was that hint of rebellion she was pinning her hopes on. If she could convince Jonathan to help her escape, for Godric’s sake she might have a chance.

  She turned and ran straight into Godric’s butler.

  “Simkins!”

  He bowed and stepped back. “A thousand pardons, Miss Parr. I did not expect anyone to leave the drawing room so early.”

  “Don’t apologize, Simkins! The fault is mine. Could you please tell me where Mr. Helprin is?”

  The butler’s white brows winged upward in surprise. “His Grace’s valet?”

  Emily nodded. “Yes.”

  “I believe he is in the servants’ quarters.” He seemed suspicious. “Has he incurred your displeasure?”

  “No. I merely wished to see him briefly.” If Simkins didn’t trust her, her plan for escape would unravel in a matter of minutes.

  “Well then, good night, Miss Parr.” Simkins smiled, bowed, then slipped into the drawing room, leaving her alone in the hall.

  Emily dashed towards the servants’ stairs. After getting directions from a footman, she found Jonathan’s room and flung open the door. He sat on the edge of his bed. His white lawn shirt was half unbuttoned, and in his lap rested one of Godric’s fine hessian boots, which he was presently polishing.

  He glanced up in surprise. His green eyes narrowed as he took in the sight of her alone. For a second Emily regretted the decision to come to him for help. She hadn’t forgotten the way he’d tossed her over his shoulder and carted her off to Godric when she’d crawled out the study window.

  He set down the boot and stood. “You should not be alone, Miss Parr. I am obliged to return you to His Grace.”

  “No, wait! I need to speak with you…” She started strong, but her tone became uncertain. Her heart skipped a beat as Jonathan advanced towards her. Had she made a mistake in thinking she could trust him, that she could persuade him to help her?

  “With me? What would a proper young lady have to say to a valet?” He gave that same devastating half-smile Godric often flashed at her. He moved one arm around her body to swing the bedroom door shut behind her. She was trapped now, in more ways than one. Drawing a deep breath, she forced herself to remember that this man cared for Godric and it was that loyalty which she hoped would save Godric’s life.

  “I need your help.” She realized that if she spoke with Jonathan alone like this, she might give him the wrong impression about her. Too late to go back now. His body already leaned slightly towards her. He even loomed like Godric. Even though she hadn’t been successful in getting Godric to talk about Jonathan, she was no fool. Some looks simply ran in the blood. He claimed he had no siblings, and he never talked of cousins so few options remained. Who was Jonathan to him?

  “I’d be happy to help you.” He raised his other hand, trailing it down her bare arm. Goose bumps erupted in the wake of that slow, forbidden caress. Lord, if he wasn’t Godric’s kin then she wasn’t a woman. She smacked his hand away.

  She kept his attention on the matter at hand. “Can you take me to Blackbriar tomorrow? I have
to escape. I’ll be dressed as a maid and you need to give me a ride in the cart, nothing more.”

  “Are you asking me to betray my master?” Rather than look scandalized, like she’d expected, the sandy-haired devil had the nerve to grin.

  Emily drew in a steadying breath. “As far as I am aware, he never forbade you to take me to Blackbriar, did he? If need be, I can elude you in the village and hide so you can honestly say you couldn’t bring me back.”

  Jonathan eyed her critically. “Very well, Miss Parr. But first you must tell me why you are leaving. I’ve seen the way you look at His Grace. I can’t begin to fathom why you would want to run off.”

  Emily drew a deep breath, praying she was doing the right thing. “I have to leave to save his life.”

  Jonathan’s brows rose. “What?”

  “It’s Blankenship, the man who came here with the magistrate. He plans to kill Godric and anyone else in his way to get to me. If I leave, he won’t have a reason to hurt anyone here.”

  Suspicion narrowed the valet’s eyes. “How do you know this?”

  “Godric’s mistress, Evangeline. She warned me, told me what would happen if I didn’t leave. Blankenship is mad. He’s already hired men for the job.”

  “You’re serious, aren’t you? His Grace is truly in danger?”

  Emily nodded. “I can’t risk anything happening to him.”

  “Have you considered telling him what Evangeline told you?”

  “Of course I have. But you know the man he is. Do you think he’d sit idly by under this kind of threat? No matter how matched they were?”

  The valet considered her words. “No, the damned fool would rally his friends and go charging off to get killed.”

  Emily’s shoulders sagged. “So you understand why I have to leave. He cannot know the truth or he will do something foolishly noble.”

  “You do realize this is an extremely bad plan. The man has a temper that makes even angels quake with fear. He won’t be happy if you leave.”

  She didn’t need Jonathan’s warning, she knew the risk she was taking. “It’s a choice between hurting him and killing him, and that isn’t really a choice is it?”

  Jonathan deliberated a long moment. “Very well. I’ll take you to the village if you agree to my price.” She was trapped against the door, unable to escape. His warm breath fanned her face.

  She raised her chin a little, hoping it would strengthen her resolve. “What price?”

  “Hmm…” He studied her, looking for what she didn’t know. “I’ll decide later. Be ready to depart tomorrow.” He gently shoved her out into the hallway.

  She hastily walked back up the servants’ stairs, then the main staircase as she headed into her bedchamber on the second floor and ducked inside.

  “There you are, little vixen! I’ve been waiting for you to turn up.” Godric’s voice made her jump. “Thought you could slip away from me?” Godric chuckled, his hands encircling her waist.

  The tension in her body relaxed as she realized he hadn’t overheard her conversation with Jonathan.

  “No, of course not. I merely had to fix my hair, a few pins felt loose.” Her hand rose to her hair as though to show she’d fixed the matter.

  The predatory gaze he gave her made her ache inside. “I don’t believe you, my dear. I thought we came to an understanding.”

  It irritated her that he didn’t believe her, even if she was lying. “We have. Let me go, Godric.”

  “Now, now, I’ve had to play the gentleman all evening and I’m not able to last another minute behaving like a bloody saint.” His hands on her waist curled around her back and slid farther down over the curve of her bottom and clenched hard, lifting her into him.

  Emily gasped.

  He pressed her back against her door. The corded sinews of his muscled arms were taut beneath her hands as she tried to push him away. She had to keep her senses unclouded if she was to escape tomorrow, but it was nigh impossible to do so.

  Godric thrust a thigh between her legs, the pressure flaming to life. Emily’s head fell back, offering him her throat. He dragged his mouth down from her jaw to her shoulder.

  Emily barely had time to prepare herself, before he robbed her of her control, assaulting her mind and heart with a deep kiss. They moved away from the door and he turned her so the back of her knees bumped the bed and they toppled over, Godric on top. With a soft laugh, he nuzzled her cheek and rolled them over until she lay sprawled across his chest. He gazed up at her, his eyes warm, fingers gentle as he traced her spine in soothing strokes.

  “What’s that look for, darling? You seem concerned.” He laughed and moved his head up to nip her collarbone affectionately.

  He fascinated her. One minute fiery and possessive, and the next tender, and heart-breakingly sweet. Emily’s heart skipped. Would this be the last moment she would have with him? If she escaped tomorrow, it would be.

  Tears stung her eyes and she bit her bottom lip, hoping that pain would distract from the stabbing wound in her chest. There would never be moments like this again.

  “Don’t cry…please don’t cry. We’ll go slow. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Godric sat up, keeping her straddled on his lap. His thumbs brushed away her tears and he eased the ache with feathering kisses along her cheeks, the tip of her nose, her forehead.

  At last he tucked her against him, and Emily surrendered, burying her face into the groove of his neck and shoulder. They remained locked this way for a moment, the mere touch enough to calm her.

  When she finally wasn’t falling apart on the inside, she placed a kiss on his shoulder. Then, despite her tears and sadness, craving him desperately, she nipped him. He groaned as she flitted her tongue against the spot she’d bitten.

  “You little imp!” He laughed and cupped her chin, raising her face to his. “You know I’ll get back at you for that.” He palmed her breast and when her nipple budded beneath his hand, he tweaked it. “Shall I start here? Or—” he slid his hand down her side over her thigh and onto her bottom “—here, perhaps?” He tightened his hold on her buttocks and Emily squirmed as desire flooded between her thighs.

  Emily raised her eyes to his, eyes challenging him. “I think you are all talk, Your Grace.”

  “I am, am I?” He growled and rolled her beneath him. Rather than undo her gown he flipped her onto her stomach, grabbed a pillow from near her head and lifted her hips, settling the pillow beneath her pelvis. Trembling, Emily looked over her shoulder at him, confused at what he meant to do. He knelt between her spread legs, and unfastened his trousers. The wicked smile he flashed her when he caught her looking sent new shivers down her legs.

  Godric slid his palms up under her gown at her knees, raising the gown and petticoats out of the way, until she was bare to him. He stroked her bottom, his fingers drifting down until they reached her sex.

  “So hot, you’re so wet, darling. You undo me. I can’t wait another second.” He placed himself at her entrance and, bracing one hand next to her shoulder on the bed, thrust home.

  They shared a mutual cry of bliss at the connection. Part pleasure, a hint of pain as he slid out and rammed deep. Emily cried out at the ecstasy. Godric continued, dragging the tip of his arousal along her inner walls, striking a spot deep inside her that made her mindless with passion. Desperation tore through her, she needed him, more than she needed his body, this clash of bodies and souls could be their last time. Panic forced a sob from her throat, yet pleasure stole her breath.

  “Em…oh Em. Darling…I love the way you feel…push your hips back…YES!” Godric’s ragged panting and rough praises unraveled her heart and soul. She came apart, blasting into a million pieces around him.

  She was vaguely aware of his echoing shout, and the heavy weight of him on her back. His huffing breath against her neck was a sensual reward.

  After a few moments, he recovered, his breathing more controlled as he fell onto his side. He reached for her, and Emily fit her body to his, fo
r perhaps the last time. Tears burdened her cheeks, but Godric didn’t see them. His eyes were closed, dark lashes spiked across his cheeks.

  “I love you. No matter what happens. I love you,” she whispered. He didn’t stir.

  She kissed his chest where she felt his heartbeat strongest. If he’d heard her, she didn’t want him to say anything back. If he didn’t love her, the reality would wound her. If he said it, it would kill her.

  Godric held Emily’s body loose against him. One of her bare legs stretched over his abdomen, and he rested a possessive hand on the soft skin of her outer thigh. Her head rested on his chest and her faint breaths betrayed her deep state of sleep. He’d worn her out tonight, she was still adjusting to his voracious appetite. She was bolder too, but she still made love with that strange mixture of wanton innocence.

  It would be a lie to deny his joy at the enthusiasm and boldness in her responses. She loved him, he heard her breathe it once while asleep, and today, she’d said it without the influence of passion. She’d not taken it back, and for that he was glad.

  No one had ever claimed to love him before, no woman besides his mother. He was loved by Simkins and the League, but Emily was different. He’d always assumed a woman’s love would be a burden, but it wasn’t. Her affection and loyalty strengthened him. She knew him for who he was, but she loved him anyway, loved him enough to declare her reputation worthless, but it mattered to Godric. The thought of anyone speaking ill of Emily churned his stomach.

  He would do whatever was necessary to protect her honor, even if that meant giving her up. He’d told her she could stay as long as she loved him, but the truth was she could never leave him. There was only one option left for her, and for him.

  Marriage. He had to marry Emily to salvage her reputation. In return, she would have a life she wished to live, and he would give anything to see to her happy.

  In the bright light of day, he knew that marriage to Emily was a terrible idea. His reputation in society was far from unsullied and while it had never mattered to him, it would affect her. Would she ever be accepted as the wife of a duke, or simply be seen as a glorified mistress? At night, though, he couldn’t help but wonder how happy they might grow to be.