Wicked Designs

by Lauren Smith

  She was naked.

  Emily gasped, a dreadfully sick sound.

  “There, there, love, You’re safe,” Charles said. Neither he nor Cedric seemed interested in her state of undress. She swallowed, which was still painful.

  “How?”

  “How?” The men shared a confused look.

  “How—” but she couldn’t finish.

  Cedric took the glass from Charles and refilled it from a pitcher. “We brought you back from the inn in Blackbriar two days ago, kitten. You’ve been very ill.”

  He held the glass out to Emily. She reached for it, but her arms shook. Charles took it and sat down on the bed before he held it to her lips again. She emptied the glass.

  “Two…days?”

  Charles nodded and tucked a stray lock of hair tenderly behind her ear. “I should tickle you to death for all your foolishness.”

  Dark smudges beneath his grey eyes revealed his lack of sleep. Charles had always come across as the most immature, though only a year separated him from Godric and Cedric. But a lined, wearied expression was now fixed to the youthful earl’s countenance. She reached up and touched his cheek. Charles shut his eyes, a tic working in his strong jaw. He caught her hand, kissed it and set it back beneath the covers where it was warm.

  She looked to Cedric. He too seemed sick with worry, dark circles under his brown eyes as he hovered nearby.

  “The others?”

  “Ashton and Lucien are resting. We have been taking shifts to watch over you.”

  “And…Godric?” This was what she really wished to know. Where was he? She needed him.

  “He—” Cedric paused, as though choosing his words carefully “—is not himself right now.”

  “Is he unwell?”

  Did the others know what had happened at the inn? Did they know how she’d betrayed him? She remembered the choked sound he’d made when she tried to soothe him. A horrific sound. She’d wanted nothing more than to assure him that she loved him, that she’d only left him to protect him. But he hadn’t given her the chance.

  The…idiot. She was not sad, she was furious with him. All she’d needed to do was explain herself and he hadn’t given her the chance. She wanted to slap him, then kiss him, and then slap him again. The damned fool.

  “Take me to him now.”

  Cedric laid a palm on her shoulder. “He isn’t at his best, kitten. He’s—”

  “I don’t care! Take me to him.” She could only manage a whisper that she followed with a forceful stare.

  Cedric jumped up. “I’ll go.”

  Charles nodded, pulled a pistol out from his waistband, and sat back on the bed, facing the door.

  “A gun? He’s…he’s not gone mad, has he?” She reached for the pistol, but Charles pulled out of her reach.

  Charles gave her a devil-may-care grin. “It isn’t for Godric, Emily. Lucien and Ashton followed Evangeline Mirabeau to London. They learned that Blankenship hired her to find you, and what he has planned for us. Hence the weapons.”

  “Godric knows why I left?”

  Charles nodded. “Not until after we returned to the manor. Lucien and Ashton were a bit late to the party, so to speak. Godric has had a rough couple of days. He lost you, tried to kill his brother, now he’s done nothing but drink in his study. Only Simkins has managed see him without getting something thrown at his head. I nearly got beaned with the Bible he threw at me.” Charles chuckled. “Don’t mistake me, Emily, I quite enjoyed the irony. Reminded me of this one lady who threw a vial of holy water at me, expecting me to burn.”

  “In all fairness, you did smoke a little,” said Ashton.

  Charles scoffed. “It was winter and the water was warm.”

  Emily tried to smile but she was caught up by the more salient point.

  “Brother?”

  “Oh, of course. I suppose you’ve missed a lot of the fireworks. Godric tried to throttle Jonathan. Simkins pointed a gun at Godric and said he can’t kill his half-brother. It turns out Jonathan is the son of the late duke and the lady’s maid to Godric’s mother.”

  Emily did smile then. She hadn’t been mistaken about Jonathan after all. “I knew it.”

  Charles chucked her under the chin affectionately. “None of us saw it.”

  “You’ve known him for too long and simply gotten used to him, I suppose.”

  Cedric returned, looking pointedly at the floor. “It’s as I feared. He’s completely foxed. Trust me, kitten, you don’t want to see him like this.”

  “I do and I will.” She struggled to get up but remembered she was naked and clutched the sheet about her breasts. “Robe, please.” Cedric hesitated but Emily’s glare had him retrieve Godric’s red velvet robe straight away. Emily studied Cedric and Charles, weighing who she trusted more to keep his hands to himself. Neither were good choices, but one was most certainly worse. She chose Cedric.

  “You help me.”

  “Ahem,” Cedric said to Charles, who waited outside with a huff.

  Cedric averted his gaze as he pulled the covers back and then eased Emily’s arms into the robe’s sleeves. She wrapped it snugly about herself and tied the cord at her waist tight before getting out of bed. As grimy as she felt, the more important thing was to see Godric. She could bathe later. Emily took a deep breath and tried to stand.

  She wavered and Cedric caught her up in his arms. “I’ll help you, kitten.”

  They must have been an odd sight, Emily in her oversized robe, barefoot, leaning against Cedric for support. Thankfully, no one saw them but Simkins, posted outside the door to Godric’s study.

  The butler’s eyes widened. “Lord Sheridan, she shouldn’t be out of bed!”

  Emily held up a hand and pointed to the study door.

  “Open it.”

  Simkins shook his head. “I’m afraid he’s not fit to see anyone.”

  “I don’t care.” Emily growled.

  “Very well, Miss Parr, but I will intervene if he grows violent.” Simkins fumbled with his set of keys.

  “Yes, he might shoot another vase,” said Charles.

  “What?” Emily gasped.

  “It was an ugly vase, one his mother always hated. It won’t be missed,” said Simkins.

  Godric shouted from the other side of the door. “Simkins, I told you to leave me be!”

  “Silence, St. Laurent.” Cedric’s voice echoed, a boom that brought silence from the study. “Emily is here. Behave, you hear me?”

  Simkins opened the door and Cedric stepped inside, Emily leaning against him. Godric was at the back of the study, facing the window with his back to them, the night outside inky black. One candle lit the room.

  “Help me to the couch,” said Emily. “Then leave us.”

  “I’m staying, Emily.”

  She stroked his face as she had Charles’s. “Thank you, Cedric, but I will be fine.”

  He bent to kiss the top of her head before retreating. Simkins shut the door from the outside.

  An agonizing moment of silence followed—Godric at the window, she on the couch, both still as statues. Could she make him understand that she hadn’t betrayed him?

  “Godric,” she breathed.

  Slowly he turned to face her. Her dark prince with shadows beneath his tortured emerald eyes with hair tangled as though he’d dug his fingers into it over and over again. How had it come to this?

  Emily knew of the deadly calm before the storm, but she believed it was the calm afterwards which often proved worse, with century old trees ripped from the soil and birds lying dead upon the ground after being hurled through mighty winds. Everywhere lay destruction. In watching Godric’s haunted eyes, she saw that same vast path of devastation.

  She found a new strength in her voice. “Come to me.”

  He obeyed, feet dragging until he stood before her, gazing down at her, those long dark lashes fanning against his cheeks as he shut his eyes for a brief moment. His right hand was the closest thing she could reach. She c
aught his wrist, lifting it until she captured his palm and brought it to her lips. She kissed the inside of his hand, letting him feel her tenderness.

  I love you.

  Godric’s legs buckled. Suddenly he was on his knees, burying his head on her lap, arms wrapping around her as he clung to her. Emily bent over him, kissing his hair, stroking his shoulders as he shook with violent silent sobs. He clenched her tight, as though he feared she’d vanish in his arms. She felt the tremors of his receding grief as he finally raised his head.

  “Emily…”

  She put a finger to his lips and shook her head.

  “I forgive you.” She found a smile, let it pull her lips up but this only made him cringe, his face that of a fallen angel. But her angel.

  “I can’t forgive myself…” He turned away from her.

  Emily grabbed his chin, forcing his face back towards her and catching him in a violent kiss.

  “You are a fool, Your Grace,” she said then ravaged his mouth again, bruising him with her possession. He barely had time to kiss her back before she released him. Godric put a shaking hand to his mouth, startled as he felt his swollen, punished lips.

  “I’m learning your way of kissing.” Emily smiled at him, a wicked smile. The kiss had somehow breathed life into her.

  Godric slowly got up off his knees and joined her on the couch. He leaned forward to kiss her. Emily braced herself for a return of the heated melding of mouths she’d given him, returning fire with more fire.

  But she did not get it.

  Godric barely kissed her at first, so faint was the pressure of his lips on hers. It was a dream of a kiss. But then he deepened it. His tongue slipped between her lips, with infinite tenderness as their lips began that slow ancient dance. Emotion flooded through that kiss. Godric had to tell her everything he felt—the relief, joy, guilt, passion, concern.

  Emily Parr had to be some sort of angel. No mortal woman could forgive a man for such sins. He’d abused her trust and taken her up against the wall like some barbarian. He’d threatened to return her to her uncle and deliver her to an unhappy marriage to a man she despised. He’d terrified her to the point that she’d fainted and been senseless for two days.

  Feel me, darling! Feel me. Know that I love you. This time, when the words rushed out in his mind, he welcomed them. It had to be love. Nothing could wound a soul like hurting the one you loved. How he wanted to say the words, but it felt wrong when he’d done nothing to prove it. No. He would not tell her loved her until he could prove it. He was too deep into his cups and would have been unable to get out the words she deserved. Bloody fool I am.

  When their lips broke apart Emily’s eyes were still closed. Godric trailed a fingertip down the upward curve of her nose and she opened her eyes to see him.

  “Let me take you back upstairs to rest.” He stood up and scooped her body into his arms when he realized she was naked beneath the robe. He almost laughed.

  “Are you not wearing anything else?” Emily blushed and the sight relieved him. Her face had been too pale. “After all that I’ve done to you, you just keep rewarding me,” he teased as he admired the way the velvet molded to her curves. Emily flashed him a mock scowl and he grinned, pressing his forehead against hers, gazing deep into her violet eyes.

  “Will you promise to never escape again?”

  “I was not escaping. I was saving your life. And you’re still not safe. We must talk…”

  “All right, my darling. When you’re feeling better, we’ll talk.” He kissed her cheek and then opened the study door.

  Charles, Cedric and Simkins all huddled about the door, faces pressed close to the frame, caught in the act of eavesdropping.

  Out of the three of them only Simkins managed to maintain his dignified air.

  “We were monitoring the corridor for security, Your Grace,” he said.

  “Security? I suppose those carpets do look most suspect, Simkins. Good idea, best to watch the paintings and statues. They could be working with our enemies.” Godric hid a smile. “Now if you’ll pardon us. I am just taking Emily back up to bed to rest.” The three men watched him leave, no doubt wondered what on earth transpired to calm the tempest of his famous temper.

  Once upstairs, Godric put Emily down on his bed and started to move to the empty chair nearby. Emily grabbed his arm, keeping him close.

  “Stay.” Her free hand patted the bed. Godric sat down on the edge of the bed, bent over and pulled his boots off and turned to join her. Emily snuggled deep into the covers.

  Godric turned her face towards his. “Emily, about what happened in the inn—”

  “Yes?”

  “That should never have happened. It will never happen again.” He brushed his lips against hers.

  “Don’t promise that. It was beyond anything I’ve ever experienced. Of course, at the time I thought you had forgiven me and had missed me terribly.”

  “Forgive you? Emily, I was not gentle with you. Why don’t you hate me?” Fearful confusion clouded his wide eyes.

  “I could never hate you. Godric, I love you. Haven’t I told you enough for you to believe me? As for not being gentle… I enjoyed it. Now stay. Sleep with me.” Her voice was a command. “From what Cedric said, you’ve not had any rest.”

  Godric wanted to shout, to laugh. If this was the extent of her temper, she truly was an angel. He pulled her into his arms, burying his face into her neck, kissing the sensitive spot right behind her ear until her breath quickened.

  “I don’t deserve you, my darling.”

  “You certainly don’t. Lucky for you, I seem to have developed a taste for rogues.” She ran her fingers through his hair, teasing the nape of his neck.

  “Rogues?” He flicked his tongue against her neck, eliciting a soft little moan. “As in more than one?”

  “I’ve lived with five of you under the same roof. Suffice it to say I’ve found your little League quite—” She paused as he sucked her skin, and she flushed with heat.

  “Yes?” He prompted.

  “What were we talking about?” One of his hands slid under the gown of her robe and palmed her breast, caressing the pink bud that tightened beneath his fingertips.

  “I believe we were talking about sleep,” he murmured against her lips before he slid his tongue into her mouth, barely able to think straight himself.

  “Sleep?”

  “Sleep…yes…” He’d barely let himself rest, let alone sleep in the past two days. Now the drowsiness was starting to catch up with him. Godric drew in a slow deep breath, his body relaxing, but his heart and soul breathed and danced and rejoiced most. Emily was back where she belonged, with him. He could rest. She was safe.

  “Emily,” he whispered against her neck.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m not like my father. I have his temper, but I am not like him.”

  “Godric. When you were angry you made love to me. That doesn’t make you like your father.” Emily’s eyes twinkled as she ran a fingertip down his open shirt, skimming his bare chest. Godric groaned, wishing that fingertip would keep going down.

  “Can we talk about Jonathan?”

  “My brother? Wish I could kill him. Can’t.” He moaned. “He’s a St. Laurent.” Godric’s words scattered apart as he struggled to fight his need for Emily. She needed to rest, not make love.

  “He’s a lot like you.”

  “Oh? In what way?” Godric’s hand moved around to her back, caressing her underneath the velvet robe.

  “He’s a stubborn, green-eyed rogue who assumes every woman secretly wants him and just needs to be convinced of it.” She giggled and twisted her body so that she lay on her back.

  A smile escaped his lips and he bent down to kiss Emily again. “You’re right, the devil does sound like me.”

  “You need to rest.”

  “So do you, darling.” He settled her deeper into his embrace.

  They were both quiet for a long moment. Godric drew in a deep brea
th. “Promise me you’ll be here when I wake up.” He brushed a hair from her face. “I know you will, but I need to hear it.” Emily groggily looked at him, her brow crinkling in an adorable way.

  “I promise I will be here. Godric, I’m so sorry I left. I can’t image how it must have hurt you.” She ran a fingertip along his jaw, tracing his face.

  He leaned back and ran a hand over his eyes in an attempt to erase the memories. “I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. I thought I was dying, Emily. Christ, you have no idea what that’s like.” His eyes were those of a boy, one who’d seen years of abuse. “I swore that, after my father, no one would ever have the power to hurt me.”

  “When I realized I had to leave…I came back to my room and collapsed.” Emily fought to control her voice. “I wanted nothing more than to run back down to the dining room and into your arms. But I had to protect you. I would do anything to protect you.” She leaned up to brush a kiss on his brow before settling back down, resting her head on his chest. “I will be here tomorrow morning. I promise.”

  Relief filled his lungs. She was his world, his everything.

  “Goodnight, Godric.” Emily’s voice was sleepy and soft. The intimacy of this moment was perfect. Life could have stolen everything else from him, but as long as he had Emily, he could survive.

  “Goodnight, darling.” He fell asleep with his lips pressed into her hair. Guilt still lingered, but Emily—angelic, loving Emily—had erased so much self-loathing.

  How had lived without her for all these years?

  Chapter Seventeen

  Ashton woke the next morning with a horrible crick in his neck. He had fallen asleep in a chair outside Godric’s door. He yawned and rubbed the tight muscles on the back of his neck. What a night.

  Ashton dared to peek into Godric’s room and found his friend cuddled up with Emily as though the two would never part again.

  He shut the door and returned to his chair. Godric, you will marry her. There’s no other way to keep her safe and yourself sane.