Passionate Secrets (The Secrets Trilogy Book 2)

by Williams, Lana

  “The number three holds magic. That’s been proven since ancient times. The three of them together might produce a vortex of sorts.”

  Simmons turned away to roll his eyes. “Here I thought you were a man of science.”

  “What was that?”

  “Nothing.” He shook his head. “What’s done is done. I can’t very well undo it.”

  “It would’ve been much simpler if you’d at least made it appear as if the man took his own life.”

  “I tried. The bloody man wouldn’t cooperate. You’d think that being the one with the weapon would give me the upper hand. Funny how some men don’t think that way.” He couldn’t help but think back to the other time he’d killed a lord. That one hadn’t cooperated either. Some men refused to back down. That cost them their lives.

  “Are you certain no one saw you?”

  Vincent hesitated as he ran the events through his mind again. Out of the corner of his eye, he’d thought he’d seen someone...a boy perhaps? But when he’d turned to look, the figure was gone. If he’d been there at all.

  What harm could one boy cause?

  “No. No one saw me.”

  “Very well then. Soon everything we need will be in place. We’ll proceed with the next step of our plan while we wait for Lucas to return.” Uncle Grisby chuckled.

  The eerie sound caused a chill to creep down Vincent’s back.

  “The devices need to be tested again. See if you can find some subjects willing to spend some time with us. Though we need more meteorites to provide consistent power, we’ll continue testing with what we have. A few more experiments and we will know if it’s successful. Then the world will bow at our feet. We’ll have more riches than we ever dreamed possible.”

  Vincent sighed as he looked around the new hovel they currently called home. Despite the money they’d recently gained and his uncle’s positive words, he wasn’t so sure they were any closer to accomplishing what Uncle Grisby thought they were. Now he was supposed to find more ‘volunteers’. Involving others is what had gotten them in trouble last time.

  Good thing he didn’t have a conscience. Else he’d be tortured by all the harm they’d caused thus far.

  ~*~

  Emma felt the weight of Michael’s gaze all the way home. While she wasn’t quite clear on why he’d decided to escort them home from the ball, she could hazard a guess. Somehow he thought she’d encouraged Mr. Vandimer’s interest in her and decided he must speak to her about it.

  She sighed. While she had no intention of encouraging the man, she wasn’t comfortable being rude either. Where was the line between those two options?

  The viscountess chatted about several people Emma didn’t know, remarking on this person and their ridiculous attire and that person and their clever grandson. She seemed to require little if any response, so Emma allowed the conversation to continue without commenting. Determined not to look at Michael again, she kept her gaze on the passing buildings as they made their way through the dark, quiet streets.

  Soon they arrived home and entered the drawing room. The viscountess dismissed the yawning footman and requested that Michael pour them each a libation. Emma breathed a sigh of relief as the viscountess sat in her favorite chair. At least she wouldn’t be left to defend her actions to Michael. He could hardly raise the topic when his grandmother was here.

  “I don’t care for Miss Vandimer’s father. His behavior is odd, don’t you think?” The viscountess looked up at Michael.

  Emma nearly groaned.

  “Perhaps we could ask Miss Grisby her opinion of him. She spent quite a bit of time with him this evening.” Michael raised a brow at her.

  “I danced with him, we spoke for a few moments afterward, and then you arrived. That’s hardly enough time for me to form an opinion.” She took a long sip of sherry, hoping the topic was now closed.

  “What did he speak to you about?” the viscountess asked.

  All too aware of the heat filling her face, she took another sip before answering. She had no desire to tell them that he’d told her she deserved more than to be the viscountess’s companion. Never would she hurt her feelings. “Nothing of importance. Odd comments, really.”

  Michael’s gaze narrowed as he studied her. “I’d prefer you stay away from him.”

  She could only guess how angry he’d be if he knew exactly what Mr. Vandimer had said. “Would you have me refuse next time he asks me to dance?”

  “She can hardly do that, Michael. What would you have her do?”

  Emma looked at him expectantly. “Yes, what would you have me do?” She knew she had the sherry to thank for her false bravado along with the presence of his grandmother, but why not take advantage of both while she had the chance?

  “I don’t think he is on your list of potential suitors, so do not seek him out.”

  “I have no intention of doing so.”

  “Excellent. Now that we’re in agreement, I’m going to retire for the evening,” the viscountess announced and rose to her feet.

  Emma stood as well, relieved the conversation was over. “Perhaps you’d like to read some more of our novel?”

  “Not this evening, my dear. You keep Michael company while he finishes his drink. I’m so tired I believe I’ll sleep the moment my eyes close.” She moved to Michael and offered her cheek.

  The tenderness Michael always showed her squeezed Emma’s heart. He really was a good man, despite what he seemed to think of her.

  “Good night,” Emma said as she kissed the viscountess’s cheek as well.

  The older woman patted her arm and winked. Emma stared at her, wondering what that was all about.

  She left the room, closing the door firmly behind her.

  An awkward silence descended as Michael stared at the amber liquid in his glass, and Emma continued sipping her sherry.

  “May I ask what he said to you?” Michael came over to sit beside her on the settee, glass dangling from his fingers.

  “What am I supposed to do when he speaks to me? Turn away? I thought it unwise to be rude to your fiancé’s father.”

  He set down his glass. “I realize that. I’m sorry I suggested otherwise. Will you tell me what he said?”

  She told him, feeling as though somehow it was her fault. After all, Mr. Vandimer wasn’t the first man to make inappropriate comments to her. Life had been easier when she’d worn her governess disguise, though that hadn’t always been completely effective either.

  Michael shook his head as he leaned back and rested his arm along the edge of the settee behind her. “Do be careful. He is not someone to be crossed. The less you engage with him the better. As I said, he’s not searching for a wife.”

  “Do you think he’s showing interest in me because of my association with you?”

  Michael smiled. “No, I don’t.”

  “Then what?”

  Michael rose and offered his hand.

  Uncertain what he intended, she set down her empty glass and put her hand in his, her stomach leaping as he pulled her up to stand before him. “What?” she asked as he continued to look down at her.

  “I wish you could see yourself as I see you. As others see you. You are a very attractive woman.”

  Embarrassed, she shook her head as she tried to tug her hand from his.

  “Come here.” He kept a tight hold on her hand and led her to the large mirror that hung on one wall of the drawing room. He positioned her in front of him and stood directly behind her, looking at her reflection with her. “See?”

  “See what?” She could only see the handsome man behind her, the dim light glittering in the blue of his eyes.

  “How stunning you are.” He trailed his finger along the line of her jaw.

  She caught her breath, fascinated by the sight of him touching her in the mirror.

  “Skin like alabaster. Hair as soft as satin.” He traced the arch of her brow, the hollow of her cheek.

  Her mouth parted in response. She was n
o longer sure if it was the sherry she’d had or the feel of his fingers on her skin that heated her. No. That wasn’t true. It was him. Of that she had no doubt.

  “Do you see it?” His voice was low and, combined with his gentle touch and heated gaze, held her in place. He swallowed hard. She watched as he bent his head to nuzzle her neck.

  She tipped her head to allow him better access, the feelings his mouth evoked setting loose a flurry of butterflies in her stomach. The image in the mirror held her transfixed, and she couldn’t look away.

  As he pressed kisses just below her ear, his fingers trailed along her collarbone on the other side. They dipped progressively lower, toward the neckline of her gown. Her breasts tingled in anticipation. She watched as those clever fingers disappeared in the top of her gown. The sight and the sensation caught her breath as he lifted her breast above the fabric.

  The shock of seeing her breast displayed in the open, with Michael’s hands on it, on her, weakened her knees. The sensations he evoked hardened her nipple, and desire shot through her core. She felt so wanton but couldn’t have stopped him if her life depended on it.

  “So beautiful,” he murmured in her ear, his lips continuing their exploration.

  Heat pooled low in her belly. She wanted more. With a moan, she tried to turn to face him, but he held her in place.

  “Watch. See what I see.” His gaze met hers in the mirror then dropped to her breast. His fingers kneaded the flesh there before touching the very tip.

  Her center throbbed with need. She felt helpless, pinned beneath his hands, held captive by their images in the mirror. He shifted to stand beside her and to her surprise, took her nipple into his mouth, sucking gently, then harder. “Oh. Michael. I—”

  “Shh. Let me show you.” Again, he licked her breast as he freed the other one from the constraint of her gown and repeated his sweet torture.

  Watching him in the mirror, his dark head against the paleness of her skin, caused all thoughts to stop. She could only feel.

  “You are an amazing woman.” His words heated her further. “It makes me wonder what other passions of which you are capable.”

  He eased behind her once more, continuing his assault on her senses. She watched where his gaze fell, watched where his hands lingered, watched his mouth move across her heated flesh.

  When he raised his head, the desire etched in his face only made her hotter. “I would see you bloom in full, Emma. Will you let me?” He kissed her neck again and the cool air of the room brushed her thigh.

  She glanced lower in the mirror to see his hand easing up the hem of her gown. Her breath caught in anticipation until at last, his warm fingers touched her thigh. Again, she moaned.

  “Oh, yes. Such passion,” he whispered. “Just as I thought.” He eased the skirts higher. “Let me touch you, Emma. Let me give you this adventure.”

  Passion of which she hadn’t known she was capable held her in its grip. Refusing was not an option. This was Michael. The man she loved. No longer did she doubt that. If she had this one and only time with him, she’d take it. She’d grab it with both hands and hold it tight. “Yes. Touch me.”

  He closed his eyes as though relieved at her acquiescence as his mouth returned to nibble on her ear. A mixture of heat and shivers coursed down her flesh. She eased her head back to rest on his shoulder, giving him better access, her eyes closing as sensations poured over her, through her.

  His fingers found their way to her hip, his touch hot through the thin fabric of her chemise. Then his fingers found the bare flesh above her stocking, and she jerked upright only to encounter their reflection in the mirror.

  The wanton woman there was no one she recognized. Strands of hair had come loose from her chignon. Her eyes were glazed with desire, her cheeks rosy red, her bare breasts pressed up and heaving with each breath. Despite the shock of the sight, her gaze fixed on Michael.

  His dark hair beckoned her touch, and she threaded her fingers through it. He raised his head long enough to kiss her fingers, then drew one of them into his mouth, sucking gently.

  “Oh!” she cried, aching everywhere.

  He brushed her inner thigh, moving up to her center lightly then again more firmly. “So soft. So beautiful.”

  She throbbed with need. He slid his fingers into her soft folds and her knees gave way. He held her waist as he continued to touch and rub in places she’d never realized could make her feel like this. She moaned once more, her breath coming in gasps. “Michael?”

  “Yes, yes, just let go. I have you.”

  Again, his fingers danced along her moist center, taking her higher, and suddenly stars exploded. Her whole body throbbed as she flew.

  Michael turned her at last and held her tight, wrapping her in his strong arms, holding her like he’d never let her go.

  A sob caught in her throat at the bittersweet moment. To be this close to him but know he was not hers made her heart hurt. For right now, she did the only thing she could—held on tight to Michael, wanting to keep this moment etched in her heart forever.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Emma stared at the message that had arrived that morning, her heart racing. Her mother’s carefully penned words caused fear to tighten her throat.

  Your sister is very ill. Please come home.

  The situation must be dire for her mother to send for her. Guilt flooded her. While she’d been enjoying herself, her sister was worsening.

  Within moments, she’d gathered her cloak and gloves. She hurried to the viscountess’s bedroom and knocked on the door.

  “Come in.” The older woman was sitting at her desk, pen in hand. She took one look at Emma and seemed to realize something was amiss. “What is it, my dear?”

  “My mother has sent for me as my sister has taken ill.” Emma’s heart squeezed. Saying it aloud made it more real.

  “Oh, dear. I do hope it’s nothing too terrible.”

  “I’m afraid it is...quite serious.” Her eyes filled with tears at the thought.

  She hadn’t told the viscountess about her sister’s illness. She was so used to keeping her personal life to herself that she hadn’t shared much about her family. That had been a mistake. Viscountess Weston had brought her into her home and showed her nothing but kindness. Emma had kept her at arm’s length, and now she regretted that. Her habit of trusting no one might protect her, but it kept everyone else out.

  “Take the carriage. Stay as long as you need.”

  “Thank you.” Emma turned to leave.

  The viscountess grabbed her hand. “Emma, send word if you need anything. Anything at all.”

  “Thank you so much,” she managed through her tears before hurrying out.

  In short order, the carriage rumbled along the busy streets. Each time they were delayed by some conveyance or other, Emma wanted to scream. She could not arrive quickly enough.

  When they finally drew to a halt before the lodging house, she opened the door and alighted without waiting for the footman. She ran up the stairs as fast as her gown permitted and used her key to unlock the door.

  Her mother greeted her, her brow creased with worry. Her normally neat appearance was disheveled. Weary eyes dark with fear filled with tears at the sight of Emma. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “What is it? What’s happened?” She reached out and squeezed her mother’s hands.

  “Tessa has worsened considerably the past two days. I’m not certain how to help her.”

  “Did you send for Dr. Barnes?” Emma took off her cloak and set it on a chair.

  “No. Tessa wouldn’t hear of it.”

  The distress in her mother’s voice tugged at Emma. She held her tight for a long moment then leaned back to look in her eyes, wanting to reassure her. “Let us see what can be done.”

  Emma moved toward the bedroom, part of her anxious to see her sister and the other part dreading how much worse she’d find her.

  Tessa lay sleeping, her face so very pale in the mo
rning light. She looked positively haggard. Her eyes had large dark circles and her cheeks were sunken. Even her hair appeared limp and dull.

  “Oh, dear,” Emma muttered. She glanced at her mother, devastated to see how poorly her sister appeared.

  “I know,” her mother whispered. “She was doing fairly well until two days ago.”

  Emma sank down beside her sister on the edge of the bed to rest her hand on Tessa’s forehead for a moment. “She feels warm, don’t you think?”

  Her mother nodded and stepped forward to touch her forehead then the back of her neck. “Yes. Her fever was even worse last night.”

  “Does she have any additional symptoms?”

  “Her nose is congested and her cough is worse.”

  “I’ll fetch Dr. Barnes.”

  “But there’s very little money left. I purchased some fabric for pants for Patrick as well as some more food.”

  “’Tis fine, Mother. I’ll work something out with the doctor.”

  Much to Emma’s surprise, the carriage still waited on the street. The footman told her the viscountess had advised him to wait for Emma if possible. Relieved, Emma gave him the doctor’s address.

  Unfortunately, the doctor was not at home but was expected to return soon. Emma left an urgent request for him to visit Tessa as soon as possible.

  She swallowed hard as she returned in the carriage. What could she do if he refused to come? Should she offer to trade her services again? She covered her face with her hands, so angry with herself. Why had she wasted so much time in trying to find a husband? No, that wasn’t the worst of it.

  She’d spent her time longing for a man she couldn’t possibly have.

  Michael.

  Memories of the previous evening flowed through her mind and body. The way he’d looked at her, the way he’d made her look at herself, had changed something deep inside her. She knew the passion they shared was a gift to be treasured. But what he’d endured with his parents had scarred him, and there was no changing that, not when he wasn’t willing to do so. Besides, as he’d said, his engagement was in already in place.