Loyalty’s Betrayal

by Mari Carr

  Dimitri slipped past her, reaching for the small mounting block, which would make the perfect step stool. The walls of the tack room were lined with tidily hung equipment. Bridles and harnesses on one wall, half a dozen saddles on posts sticking straight out of the wall opposite the door. Riding boots in various sizes were neatly lined on shelves. In one corner were pegs hung with miscellaneous items—long lead ropes, hand crops, and even a coiled long whip. There were framed photos of people on horses, horses posed outside the stables, and a few of what he guessed were the views from the scenic trail rides.

  Dimitri turned to leave, hauling the mounting block with him. Then stopped. Something he’d just seen was out of place.

  He set the block down and turned in a slow circle.

  “Dimitri?” Cecilia asked.

  He held up a hand to silence her. She made an irritated noise but didn’t speak.

  He walked slowly around the room twice. He could feel Cecilia watching him.

  Once he was sure, he stopped at the coiled whip, lifting it off the peg. It was beautiful, a work of art more than a tool. He shook it out. Five feet of braided black leather, with a large pommel end. Gold leather was worked into the braiding on the stiff handle and pommel, and a small decorative medallion hung from the wrist strap.

  He snapped it, the crack loud in the small tack room. Cecilia sucked in air and took a step back.

  “Are you afraid?” he asked softly.

  “No.” She was lying. She scooted to the side, so her back was to the open door.

  “This is not a horse whip,” he said.

  “Then—then what is it?” she asked.

  “This is meant for people.”

  Cecilia took a quick step back, out of the tack room, and grabbed the doorknob, clearly preparing to close him inside.

  Dimitri dropped the whip, holding his hands up. “Cece, stop. I will not hurt you. I promised, remember?”

  She hesitated. The fact that she did meant she trusted him.

  She shouldn’t.

  “The whip is soft leather. Maybe deerskin. It’s not a tool to be used on horses.”

  “You said that. What do you mean it’s for people?”

  “This is a custom-made BDSM whip.” He stepped to the wall of bridles, fishing out a small one that had been hidden behind the others. “This is too small for a horse. Look at it. It’s meant for a person.”

  Cecilia joined him. “You think this is a holiday home for people who enjoy that kind of sex?”

  “It’s possible, though there was nothing in the house that would support this being a sex retreat.” He handed her the bridle, then picked up the whip, turning over the small tag so she could see it.

  “Is that a Masters’ Admiralty symbol?” she asked.

  “Close, but no.” The circular symbol was sectioned into three parts by curved lines. “This is the symbol for BDSM.” In the center of each section was a set of initials.

  Cecilia bent closer. “M.K. G.R. A.R.” She looked up at him, her eyes wide. “The American sniper’s name was Griffin Rutherford.”

  “M.K.” He rubbed his thumb over the tag. It was well-made, sterling silver. The whip, the bridle, they were both very expensive pieces, hidden in plain sight amid the other tack. “Manon Kujakski.”

  Then Cecilia asked the question still left unanswered by the whip. “But…who is A.R.?”

  11

  “Have you made any progress in your investigation?” Eric asked him.

  Mateo shook his head as they walked from the Spartan Guard residences back to the castle. The air smelled like saltwater, and was so familiar it made his stomach ache. This place had been his home for so long. He couldn’t lose it.

  As far as the traitor, all he had at the moment were suspicions without proof. Until he had concrete evidence that would allow him to name Charlotta as the traitor, he would have to remain silent.

  “You realize time is running out.” Eric mounted the steps to the second floor where the guest rooms were.

  “Yes, sir. I do. I need more time. One week is not long enough to launch a prop—”

  “You have one week, Bernard. Be thankful you have that much.”

  Mateo sucked in a deep breath, trying to remain calm. His nerves were frazzled, his emotions running too close to the surface.

  “Do you truly intend to uphold your end of the bargain?” Mateo’s tone was too belligerent to be considered anything less than rude.

  It wasn’t lost on the fleet admiral, whose eyes narrowed. This man was not Kacper, who had a quiet sort of command. He’d been frail toward the end, but strong. Eric was…he was a different kind of strong.

  He was a force to be reckoned with, a man who could probably protect his guards better than they could him. Something about that rubbed against the grain.

  Mateo was good at his job. He’d spent years training for, then serving in the Spartan Guard, protecting the position Eric now held.

  Rather than call him out, Eric simply said, “Don’t insult me by questioning my word. If you give me the traitor’s name. If you have enough proof to make me believe it.”

  “If I do, you’ll dissolve my trinity? And I will resume my place as head of the guard?”

  Eric nodded—but that response was overshadowed by a gasp from the open doorway.

  Mateo saw Cecilia standing there, pain in her eyes. Dimitri stood behind her, his expression reflecting pure murder.

  “You’re searching for the traitor so that you can get your job back?” Cecilia’s words were tight. “So that you can leave us?”

  Mateo hated the thickness in her voice that betrayed the tears she was fighting to hold in.

  “Cecilia.” He stepped around Eric, walking over to her. “Cece.”

  She erupted in anger. “Don’t you dare call me that!”

  Before he could reach her, she spun around and darted away from him, down the corridor toward the guest room they’d been given.

  He looked at Dimitri. “I thought you were getting a room in Douglas.”

  “You were misled. Apparently we all were.” Dimitri flashed an unreadable look over his shoulder at the fleet admiral, then he followed Cecilia.

  Mateo didn’t spare Eric another glance. He didn’t have time. His chest was tight, his heart racing.

  He’d hurt her. Hurt them.

  That same stupid voice that had warned him it was too late was now telling him to go after them.

  He rushed toward the guest room, but pulled up short outside the closed door. No doubt they’d locked it to keep him out.

  Mateo stood rooted to the floor, fighting for some answer, some reason he could give for deceiving them, for sleeping with them while actively working against their union.

  There was none.

  He’d been wrong.

  Which meant there was only one course of action left to him.

  He reached for the doorknob. If it was locked, he’d piss them off further by using his master key rather than knocking, but he couldn’t give them the option to refuse him entrance.

  Mateo was surprised when it turned with ease. They hadn’t locked him out.

  Stepping inside, his stomach roiled with nervousness and guilt as he saw Cecilia and Dimitri sitting on the edge of the bed, holding hands. Neither of them was speaking or looking at each other. Rather, they were facing him, as if they’d been awaiting his arrival.

  “Mateo,” Dimitri said, gesturing to the chair by the bed.

  He would have preferred to stand, but he joined them, taking the seat. “I need to—”

  “When did you find out we were being placed in a trinity?” Cecilia asked, cutting off his apology.

  “A few minutes before the two of you. The admiral of England told me.”

  She looked much calmer than she had a few minutes earlier in the hallway. He was constantly amazed by her strength and intelligence. “And he offered you a deal. Find the traitor and the trinity is dissolved?”

  He started to nod, but stopped. “I
asked to be given the chance to do the investigation and keep my job.”

  “Why weren’t we told?” She was determined to chisel away until she got all the answers she needed.

  “That was the fleet admiral’s decision. I suspect that condition was put in place because he didn’t expect me to succeed. Not in the allotted time frame.”

  “Which was one week?”

  Mateo sighed and nodded. “The date of our binding ceremony remains if we don’t produce the name of the traitor in the Spartan Guard before that.”

  “And if we do give the fleet admiral a name?”

  “I keep my job as head of the guard.”

  “What happens to us?”

  Mateo didn’t have a clue. Eric had been promised the trinity would be dissolved, but he didn’t know if that meant they would all go their separate ways, or if another third would be partnered with Dimitri and Cecilia.

  Mateo wished he didn’t hate the idea so much of the two of them living out those damn fantasies he’d had of a home and nursery with someone else.

  He lifted one shoulder. “I don’t know.”

  Dimitri had been silent during Cecilia’s questioning, his eyes hard and dark.

  “You don’t know?” Cecilia asked quietly through gritted teeth.

  Her tone suggested she didn’t believe Mateo. And why should she? For the past few days, Dimitri and Cecilia had thought the three of them were not only searching for a traitor, but building the foundation for their futures…together. Now, they knew he’d been doing the opposite—actively working to escape the trinity.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, his chest burning, his head pounding. “I’m so sorry.”

  Cecilia rose from the bed, walking to the foot of it, grasping the post. Her back was turned to him. It appeared she’d asked all her questions and his apology would never be enough.

  Mateo stood slowly, his gaze on Dimitri. He half expected the other man to throw a punch. He almost wished he would.

  “I’ll spend tonight in my own bed.”

  “No,” Dimitri said, not rising from the bed. It was the first word he’d spoken since inviting him to sit down.

  Cecilia turned around to face him. “What?”

  Dimitri looked at her, offered her a smile that revealed his true affection for her. Mateo had seen that look only when they’d been in bed together, only when they were in the throes of passion, when he thought neither Mateo nor Cecilia would notice.

  This time, he didn’t try to hide his feelings for her. “He’s staying with us, Cece.”

  She narrowed her eyes, clearly ready to argue that assertion, but Dimitri raised one finger to silence her.

  “We have four days left to deliver a traitor to the fleet admiral. If we fail to do that, the three of us will be bound together for life. We will do tonight as we’ve done before when our words failed us. We will use our bodies to communicate, to say what we cannot.”

  Cecilia had been the one to initiate that bizarre though effective way of forging a relationship, but it didn’t appear that she had any expectation of sex succeeding tonight.

  “You can use that if you wish.” Dimitri gestured toward the corner of the room just behind Mateo’s left shoulder. He turned to look, his eyes widening at the sight of the wicked-looking whip propped there.

  “Where did you get that?” Mateo asked, walking over to it.

  “A vacation home near here.”

  Mateo didn’t bother to look at them as he picked up the whip to examine it. “I thought you were going to Douglas.”

  Dimitri had followed him across the room. “We lied.”

  Mateo glanced over at Dimitri, his lips parted to tell them they should have waited for him, but he stopped himself, considered what they were saying.

  They’d escaped the castle…and him. Perhaps they weren’t disappointed by his attempt to leave the trinity. Perhaps they didn’t care if he was there or not.

  What if their true anger lay in their fears of being parted from each other?

  “We were given one week to root out the traitor. I thought it would be expedient if we split up.” Dimitri’s response made sense.

  The whip did not.

  “This is part of the investigation?”

  Dimitri nodded. “It is. Look at it.”

  Mateo studied the braided cord, taking in the elegance, the obvious expense.

  “You know what it is,” Dimitri murmured.

  Mateo nodded, even though Dimitri didn’t ask a question. He was no stranger to BDSM. Something told him Dimitri wasn’t either.

  A small tag-like medallion dangled from the end. Mateo sucked in a deep breath when he saw the initials. “Manon. Griffin.”

  “Yes,” Dimitri said, pointing to the other set of initials. “But who is A.R.?”

  Mateo thought about it, ran through their list of suspects, then shrugged. “I have no idea. How did you get this in here?”

  “I carried it through the front door. When Cecilia and I arrived, we came here first, thinking to find you in our room.”

  “No one noticed you carrying it in?” Mateo asked.

  “Only Marie, the guard at the front. She looked equally terrified and impressed, but her behavior was normal, not suspicious.”

  Mateo recalled his one and only night in Charlotta’s bed. It had been very vanilla, almost chaste, and he’d come away with the impression her sexual experience had been limited. He’d indulged in no more than missionary with her, something in the somewhat rigid way she held herself, telling him that was all she would be comfortable with.

  Cecilia left her post by the bed, walking over to join them. She lifted the braided part of the whip, studying it.

  Then she looked at Mateo, as she swung the braid slowly.

  He shook his head, giving her a slight grin. “I’m more sorry than I can say, Cecilia. But I’m not that sorry.”

  The joke worked. Thank God.

  Cecilia giggled and Dimitri grinned.

  Cecilia was the first to sober up, and Mateo could tell she regretted her momentary lapse when she said, “This isn’t funny. I’m still angry with you.”

  “I know. And you should be. I hope you’ll believe me when I say I wanted you and Dimitri to know exactly what we were working for right from the beginning.”

  “To end our trinity,” she said softly.

  He nodded. Mateo wanted to reach out to her, to pull her into his arms. He wanted it more than he should. More than was wise.

  “I’ll spend tonight in my own room,” he repeated.

  Cecilia shook her head. “No. You won’t.”

  * * *

  She spoke with confidence, even though she feared spending another night in Mateo’s arms—and Dimitri’s—would only lead to certain heartbreak for her if they uncovered the turncoat in time. Then she realized her broken heart was imminent regardless.

  She was a St. John, a family known for their intellect as well as their passion. Her family tree was overflowing with brilliant minds in the fields of science, mathematics, and history. Yet when it came to matters of the heart, they led with emotion rather than reason.

  “Cece,” Mateo whispered. She heard the same regretful longing in his voice. He wanted to be here. He wanted to leave.

  She raised her arms, wrapping them around his shoulders, pulling him toward her for a kiss. Mateo didn’t resist. Not even a little.

  His lips were gentle at first, a continuation of the apology he’d spoken. This one was delivered with his mouth and tongue, soft caresses of remorse.

  She didn’t want that right now. While Mateo was suffering from guilt, she was still furious…at him and at the situation. This was not the way the Masters’ Admiralty worked. Trinities were formed to strengthen the society, and they were made to last.

  Cecilia would find this new fleet admiral tomorrow and set him straight on that. But for tonight…

  Tonight, she would show Mateo what happened to a husband who lied to his wife. She was a forgiving person…a
fter a time. Later, she would find a way to put the anger and hurt behind her.

  This was not later.

  She broke the union of their lips, glancing at Dimitri. As always, his head was the hardest to get inside. She suspected he was also angry about Mateo’s deceit, but she couldn’t tell if he was upset or perhaps even a little bit relieved to know there was an out.

  She took Mateo’s hand, then reached for Dimitri’s, intent on leading them to the bed.

  Dimitri resisted her pull, his eyes lingering on the whip. “No whip?” He didn’t wait for a reply from either of them before following Cecilia’s lead. “Pity,” he murmured.

  She prayed to God he was joking because if he wasn’t, she’d turn over every stone on the Isle of Man to find the traitor herself.

  Dimitri chuckled, and she realized she must have given away her fear of the nasty-looking “sex toy,” though nothing about the thing looked playful.

  “Fear not, sweet Cece,” Dimitri said, releasing her hand so he could wrap his arms around her from behind. Whispering in her ear, he said, “There are plenty of other delicious ways Mateo and I can punish you.”

  She tried to break free of his grip, intent on turning around to set him straight, but he anticipated her response and tightened his hold.

  “I’m not the one in need of punishment tonight,” she reminded him.

  “That is true,” Dimitri murmured.

  Mateo stood before them, facing them, clearly considering that. After a few moments, he sighed and lifted his arms, his palms up in surrender.

  “Do your worst,” Mateo said at last.

  “Take off your clothes,” Cecilia demanded.

  Mateo responded without hesitation, shedding his shirt, pants, shoes and boxers with quick, quiet efficiency. His guilt clearly wasn’t impacting his arousal. Cecilia ogled his thick, hard cock for a little longer than was probably polite. Then she realized both men were watching her.

  Dimitri’s arms slackened. “Why merely look, Cece? When you can touch. Taste.”

  She slid free and sank to her knees before Mateo. It was hard to disagree with something that made so much sense.

  Cecilia wrapped her hand around the base of Mateo’s cock, sliding her closed palm from root to tip, then back down again.