Hot Historicals Bundle with An Invitation to Sin, The Naked Baron, When His Kiss Is Wicked, & Mastering the Marquess

by Jo Beverley

  She finished in a rush. Her cheeks were stained a bright pink, and she looked both defiant and on the verge of tears.

  Christian had felt such pain once in his life—when a French saber had sliced him open. But this was worse. A physical wound healed, but the wound she’d just inflicted probably never would.

  Sucking in a harsh breath, he tried to stem the anger pulsing through his veins. As much as he wanted to explode at her, he couldn’t. That kind of reaction would scare her to death, and no matter how much she had earned it he wouldn’t do that to her.

  After a few moments, he calmed his anger enough to speak. “What just happened between us … was it all a ruse then? Was any of it real, Clarissa?”

  She rubbed the corner of one eye, looking ashamed. “Of course it was real. That’s why I couldn’t go through with my stupid plan. You mean too much to me. I couldn’t lie to you any more than I already have.”

  He stared at her, too baffled and angry to respond. What the hell did she want from him?

  “Christian,” she said in a pleading voice, “you probably hate me now, and I can’t blame you.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t hate you—”

  “You should,” she interrupted. “If I were a better person, I would leave this house and never bother you again. But I can’t. Regardless of what I’ve done, I still need your help.”

  She scrambled from the bed and grasped his arm. He clenched his teeth, forcing himself not to respond. But her simple touch burned through him. She was so beautiful, half naked and flushed from lovemaking. She had ripped his heart to shreds, and yet still he wanted her. Needed her.

  He didn’t hate her. He hated himself for being such a fool. “What would you have me do?”

  A faint hope dawned in her eyes. “Christian, you know people, especially soldiers who were at Badajoz and who might know the truth. Could you talk to them? If you uncovered what really happened, then Lieutenant-Colonel Harcourt would have to listen to me.”

  He cursed inwardly. She asked for the one thing he couldn’t deliver.

  “Please,” she begged when he didn’t respond. “If you won’t do it for me, then do it for Jeremy. Do it for a fellow officer who deserves help.”

  Christian pulled away from her loose grip and reached for his shirt. “I can’t disobey a direct order. Don’t ask that of me.”

  She yanked the shirt from his hand and flung it across the room. “Is your blasted career all you care about? Fighting and killing? Does that mean more to you than I do?”

  Tears glittered on her eyelashes, but her slight figure radiated fury. He glared back at her, stung by the accusation.

  “I’m a soldier, Clarissa. It’s who I am. What else should I be? Should I sit at home, the feckless younger son waiting for the crumbs to fall from his father’s table? That’s no kind of life for a man. This is what I have chosen to do, and I do it well.”

  When she shook her head, making a disparaging sound, Christian’s anger spiked. “And if you think I enjoy fighting and killing, you can go to the devil,” he flung at her. “I do what I must to protect my country and my king. I don’t like killing, but I’ll be damned if I’ll apologize to you for it.”

  He stalked across the room, grabbed his shirt, and pulled it over his head. “And by the way,” he added, “your beloved husband obviously thought so, too, or he wouldn’t have gone off to Spain and left you.”

  Her anguished gasp brought him up short. He briefly closed his eyes, suddenly wishing a bolt of lightning would strike him dead. “Clarissa,” he sighed.

  “No, Christian. Not another word,” she choked out, yanking on her gown. “If you feel any affection for me whatsoever, you’ll pretend none of this ever happened.”

  Before he could say another word, she scooped up the rest of her clothes and fled.

  An imperious knock sounded on the front door of the Middleton town house, jolting Clarissa from her gloomy reverie. Whoever it was, she didn’t want to see anyone. Since she fled Rosedell Manor four days ago—right after that disastrous, earth-shattering encounter with Christian—she had imprisoned herself inside the house. And if not for Colonel Middleton’s poor health, she would have already packed up their household and decamped to the security of their Devon estate.

  She dropped her needlework in her basket and went to look out the window. A highly polished town coach stood before the front stoop. One of the Montegue carriages, which meant Lillian had come to try to see her. Again.

  Clarissa rubbed her temples, trying to ease the headache that had taken up permanent residence in her skull. She hated having to avoid Lillian, but she couldn’t face her right now. Not until Christian sailed away to the Peninsula and out of her life for good. Then she would talk to her friend and beg her forgiveness for using her brother in so cavalier a fashion.

  Her eyes stung as she imagined life without Christian. Every day she struggled to deny the truth. And every night, alone in her bed, she was forced to admit it. She loved him. How could she not? Even as a boy he had touched her heart, with his intelligence and courage, his kindness, and his sheer joy in life. And now he was a man. Handsome and powerful, whose caresses made her body flare with a passion unlike any she had ever known.

  But she had used him and asked him to betray his honor for her sake. Jeremy would have been horrified by her heartless scheme. She understood that now, after four days of thinking of little else. That realization was almost worse than anything.

  At the sound of a hasty tread on the staircase, she left the window. A moment later the door to the drawing room flew open and Lillian rushed into the room, as grim as a hanging judge.

  Groaning inwardly, Clarissa reached deep for a smile.

  “Lillian, how nice to see you. I’m sorry I haven’t been well enough—”

  “Stow it, Clarissa,” Lillian snapped. “No more hiding away. We’re going to talk right now about what happened between you and Christian. And what to do about it.”

  Clarissa sank into a chair, propping her aching forehead on her palm.

  “There’s nothing to do. He hates me.” She gave a bitter laugh. “Not that I blame him.”

  Lillian rolled her eyes. “You can be such a goosecap. He doesn’t hate you. He’s been madly in love with you for years.”

  Clarissa gaped at her friend. “You knew?”

  Lillian scoffed. “Of course. So did Father and Mother.”

  Clarissa groaned and dropped her head back in her hands, unable to conjure an answer to that humiliating revelation.

  “Oh, for God’s sake! Look at me,” Lillian exclaimed.

  Cautiously, Clarissa raised her head.

  Lillian seemed torn between vexation and sympathy. “Did you really think we wouldn’t approve of a match between you and Christian? We’d be thrilled. For both of you.”

  Clarissa gasped. “Are you insane? I’m five years older than he is. And he’s a soldier. I could never marry another soldier.”

  “You just might get your wish,” Lillian retorted. “At this very moment, Christian is destroying his career—for your sake.”

  If she hadn’t already been sitting, Clarissa would likely have fallen down. “What are you talking about?”

  “Christian is going on a crusade to clear Jeremy’s name. After you bolted from Rosedell Manor, he returned to town immediately and began digging around for information.”

  “He did?” She was so dumbfounded she could hardly formulate the question. “Why?”

  “Because he loves you,” Lillian enunciated loudly. “While you’ve been hiding away, he’s been searching high and low for witnesses. He managed to find two crippled veterans of the siege of Badajoz, both in London. According to them, Jeremy’s conduct there was brave and exemplary. And they saw everything.”

  She frowned. “But why didn’t they come forward when the rumors surfaced after the battle?”

  “They did. They went to Major Blundell, but he ordered them to keep silent. Since he was their senior commande
r, they felt they had to obey. But Christian promised that he and my father would stand with them. They’ve agreed to testify to the truth. And they’re sure there are others from Jeremy’s regiment who would be willing to speak out.”

  Clarissa’s head spun. Conflicting emotions—anger, joy, relief—washed through her.

  “That’s … that’s wonderful,” she finally managed.

  Lillian grimaced. “It is for Jeremy’s reputation. But not for Christian. He disobeyed a direct order. He’s at the Horse Guards right now, trying to convince Lieutenant-Colonel Harcourt to call Blundell to account.”

  A jolt of alarm cleared Clarissa’s head. “Didn’t your father go with him?”

  “He didn’t tell Father. Christian was afraid he would try to stop him from going to see Harcourt. And he swore he’d kill me if I said anything.”

  Anxiety and guilt drove Clarissa from her chair. She grabbed her friend by the arm, pulling her to the door. “I never wanted him to do that. I intended to take any information he discovered to Harcourt myself. I didn’t want Christian to destroy his career!”

  “There’s nothing you can do about it,” Lillian protested.

  Her friend was wrong. Clarissa knew exactly what to do. The thought of it made her stomach churn, but she had no other choice.

  “Yes, there is,” she said, dragging Lillian into the hallway. “I’m going straight to speak with Harcourt. I will not allow Christian to do this to himself.”

  Lillian looked scandalized. “You can’t go to the Horse Guards by yourself. Think of the gossip!”

  “Yes, Lillian, I can. And you’re going to drive me there. Now.”

  Chapter 8

  Clarissa glared at the clerk blocking the door of Lieutenant-Colonel Harcourt’s office. The self-important wretch was determined to keep her out, claiming that Harcourt was in an important meeting with another officer.

  That officer was Christian, and she had to stop him before he destroyed his army career.

  “Stand aside, sir,” she ordered impatiently.

  The clerk bristled. Puffing his chest out, he pointed to a chair in front of his desk. “Please take a seat, madam. You will wait for the meeting to conclude, or I will call a guard to escort you from the building. I would not wish to embarrass you, but I will not hesitate to do so if I must.”

  Clarissa suspected he would, too. The very thought of the commotion that would cause made her almost nauseous. But she was tired of everyone telling her what to do, and no priggish bureaucrat would stop her now. Not when Christian needed her. “If you or anyone else touches me, I’ll scream. As long and as loud as I can. Please step aside from that door.”

  The man’s face went purple, and he began to bluster. She opened her mouth and took a deep breath.

  Grumbling under his breath, the clerk shuffled aside, and Clarissa burst into the room before he could change his mind. She slammed the door and leaned against it, trying to calm her pounding heart.

  An imposing-looking officer sat behind a massive desk, his bushy moustache quivering with surprise as he stared at her. Christian stood in front of the desk. He pivoted to face her, and his mouth gaped open for a few seconds before he clamped it shut in a grim line.

  Lieutenant-Colonel Harcourt lumbered to his feet. “What the devil is going on here?” he snapped. “Who, madam, are you?”

  Praying her legs wouldn’t collapse under her, Clarissa crossed the room to stand beside Christian. He gave a slight but angry shake of the head.

  Meeting Harcourt’s glower, she mentally braced herself and then launched in. “I am Mrs. Middleton, sir. I’ve come to discuss the harm that has been done to my husband, Captain Jeremy Middleton.”

  Christian finally exploded. “Good God, Clarissa! You shouldn’t have come here. What were you thinking?”

  “Hold your tongue, Captain,” thundered Harcourt. “I will ask the questions.”

  Christian snapped back to attention, even though he still looked furious. With her or with Harcourt, she wasn’t sure.

  The lieutenant-colonel returned his penetrating gaze to her. “Mrs. Middleton, perhaps you’ll be good enough to explain your behavior. It’s not quite the thing for a lady to be racketing about the Horse Guards without an escort. Your father-in-law wouldn’t approve, I daresay.”

  His scowl twisted her stomach into knots, but she held her ground. “My dear sir, do you intend to offer me a seat, or must I stand all afternoon? Has everyone at the Horse Guards forgotten their manners?” She gave an imperious sniff, for good measure.

  Harcourt’s ears went red but, to his credit, he wrestled his temper under control. “Forgive me, madam. Apparently I have forgotten my manners.” He gestured to the chair in front of his desk. “Please, be seated.”

  “Thank you, but no,” she said loftily. “On second thought, I prefer to stand.”

  She heard a slight choke from Christian but didn’t dare look at him. Harcourt’s gaze darted suspiciously between them. To her surprise, he gave a grudging laugh.

  “Very well, madam. You have bested me, and on my own territory. How may I be of assistance?”

  Relief poured through her so suddenly that her knees wobbled. She wished she could sit after all, but she wouldn’t show Harcourt any sign of weakness.

  “There has been a terrible misunderstanding, sir,” she said. “Captain Archer is under the mistaken impression that I wanted him to plead my husband’s case to you. That was never my intention.”

  “That’s nonsense and you know it, Clarissa,” Christian exclaimed.

  “Captain Archer,” interjected Harcourt. “Remain silent until I give you permission to speak. Is that clear?”

  Christian looked ready to argue, so Clarissa pinched his arm. Harcourt’s moustache twitched, but he forbore to comment.

  “Yes, sir,” Christian replied stiffly.

  “As I was saying, Lieutenant-Colonel Harcourt,” Clarissa continued, “Captain Archer has made a mistake. I always intended to bring you myself the information I discovered regarding these scurrilous rumors.”

  “That’s odd. The captain seems quite sure of what he is doing,” Harcourt replied in a dry voice. “So sure, in fact, that he was willing to disobey a direct order. I find it difficult to believe he could misapprehend such a thing.”

  Clarissa swallowed her frustration. “That was my fault. I begged him to help me. I gave him very little choice in the matter, I assure you.”

  Harcourt raised a skeptical brow. “Forgive me for saying so, Mrs. Middleton, but I find your statements contradictory. Did you ask him to disobey a direct order, or did you not?”

  Her nerves frayed some more. “Of course I asked him to disobey his orders,” she snapped, feeling defensive. “No one else would help me. My husband’s good name was being trampled into dust, and his fellow officers didn’t seem to care. Not even his superior officers.”

  Harcourt tugged on his moustache, looking worried. And, she thought, guilty. Resting her hands on his desk, she leaned forward to press home her point.

  “It was a matter of honor,” she said. “Jeremy’s honor. His family’s honor. And, once I asked it of him, Captain Archer’s honor. How could he refuse me?”

  Harcourt emitted an unhappy sigh. “Sit down, Mrs. Mid-dleton. There’s no need for us to stand around like we’re on dress parade.” He frowned at Christian. “Except for you, Archer. You remain standing.”

  As Clarissa sank into the wooden chair before the desk, she ventured a peek at Christian. His anger had vanished. He even winked at her. Flustered, she turned back to Har-court, who continued to inspect her with open curiosity.

  “Lieutenant-Colonel,” she started, hoping to bring the conversation back to the question of Jeremy’s reputation. “Will you be able to help us? My husband’s good name has suffered great injury. It calls for immediate redress.”

  Harcourt clasped his hands on his desk, his expression grim. “So Captain Archer and I have just been discussing, Mrs. Middleton. You do understand wha
t you’re asking, don’t you? There will be risk involved in raising this issue, and the outcome is uncertain. Powerful people will do everything they can to refute the claims regarding Lord Blundell’s role in this matter. Captain Archer knows this but you must comprehend it as well, if we are to proceed.”

  She squared her shoulders. No longer would she be intimidated by Blundell, or by his father, the marquess, or by any other man. “I’m not afraid.”

  Harcourt nodded solemnly. “So I see. Very well, then. I will proceed.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. “You will? What will you do?” she asked, hardly believing it.

  “I’ll make enquiries amongst officers and enlisted men. Quietly, you understand,” he said rather sternly. “This is a delicate situation, and there’s no point rattling the powers that be sooner than we must.”

  Clarissa took a deep breath, the first in what seemed like ages. With luck, Jeremy’s good name could be restored. And she owed it to Christian.

  “Lieutenant-Colonel Harcourt, I can’t tell you how happy this makes me,” she said. “Please accept my gratitude.”

  He gave her a brusque nod and rose from his chair. “Mrs. Middleton, I beg you to excuse me. I shall keep you informed of the results of my investigation.”

  Clarissa stood but didn’t move away from the desk. There was another, equally important, matter to be resolved. “What will happen to Captain Archer?” she asked, glancing at Christian. He didn’t seem the least bit worried. He gave her a roguish grin, looking so much like the insolent boy she used to know that she almost laughed.

  “He’ll return to his post in the Peninsula,” said Harcourt. “It will be up to Lord Wellington to decide his fate.”

  Clarissa’s relief evaporated as anxiety took its place. “Please, this was my fault. Not his.”

  For the first time, Harcourt smiled at her. “I wouldn’t worry overmuch, Mrs. Middleton. Captain Archer is an excellent soldier. If a bit forward.” He finished sardonically, looking down with a pointed glance.

  Clarissa followed his stare and gasped. Somehow, her fingers had become intertwined with Christian’s. She’d been so focused on asking for Harcourt’s forgiveness that she hadn’t even realized Christian had taken her hand.