The Sinner

by C. J. Archer

  "Ah." He smiled. At least, she thought it was a smile. His lips became crooked and the corners lifted. "This is where it becomes interesting. You see, you are going to become his mistress."

  A bubble of laughter escaped her throat, but quickly vanished as Hislop raised his hand. She flinched, but he did not strike her. "He wouldn't want me," she said.

  "He will." Slade sounded so convinced that she wondered if he knew something she did not. "And when he does, you're going to spy on him for me."

  She kept her initial protest to herself while carefully watching Hislop out of the corner of her eye. "Am I?"

  "You're going to learn his secrets. Find out what his movements were at the time of Stephen's death. Find out when he came here. Look for correspondence." He flipped his hand in the air. "Anything. Then report it back to me."

  She smoothed her hands over her skirt then slowly rose, so as not to startle Hislop into hitting out again. "I'll consider your suggestion. Thank you for keeping me informed of your thoughts, my lord. I appreciate it." She'd never been so formal with him. Never treated him as if he were so far above her. But everything had changed now. Hislop had seen to that.

  "Good girl," Slade said, returning to his ledgers. He pulled his inkwell closer and plucked up the pen.

  She backed away toward the door, not taking her gaze off Hislop. The brute smiled at her. His tongue flicked out over his lower lip. Her insides recoiled, but she did not turn away from him.

  "There is only one problem," she said as her fingers closed around the door handle. Slade didn't even look up from his papers. "How will you reintroduce us? He lives on his estate most of the time and I live here. We're hardly likely to meet again."

  Finally, Slade did look up. He had that odd smile on his face again. "That's where you're mistaken, dear Cat. He's arriving tomorrow."

  CHAPTER 5

  Cat watched Lord Oxley ride up on Charger from her bedchamber window situated in the only remaining tower of the old fortified manor. That part of the house was over three hundred years old, with the drafts to prove it. In summer, however, it was pleasant enough, with magnificent views over the countryside and down to the village. She could see Oxley and his entourage for miles before they reached the gatehouse.

  She'd not expected him to come at all. Surely Slade had said it to tease her. Or perhaps he was in earnest and it was Oxley who was joking, by pretending to come when in fact he had no such intention. Yet here he was, riding on his beautiful white horse, dressed in crimson and black with a crimson hat, six servants in tow. They were met by the Slade servants and immediately a flurry of activity surrounded the earl as his vast amount of luggage was offloaded from the cart and carried inside.

  Oxley himself was met by Slade. The two greeted each other formally. Then Oxley suddenly looked up at her with those ice-blue eyes, as if he knew she'd been there all along, watching him.

  She stepped back from the window and pressed a hand to her thumping heart. Why was she reacting like a coy maid? Why did he make her blood hot and her pulse race? He was a fool. A fop. Perhaps her reaction was due to nerves. After all, Slade was about to offer her to Oxley like a pheasant at the dinner table.

  Well. It was time to venture downstairs and see if Oxley would agree to the scheme. His refusal was her only hope. She didn't dare say no to Slade's face, with or without Hislop present.

  She wound her way down the spiral staircase and found both gentlemen on their way up to see her. It would seem they weren't about to waste any time in getting to the point.

  "Good afternoon, my dear Lady Slade." Oxley was about to bow when he spotted her bruised cheek. He lifted a hand as if to touch it and Cat was reminded of his gentle fingers brushing her hair aside that night he'd saved her, and the soft touch of his gloved thumb as he wiped away her tears. It sent a rush of tingles through her body that warmed her all over. "What happened?" he said, no trace of the fop in his blunt voice.

  "Nothing," she said.

  "Walked into a door, silly chit," Slade said with a snort.

  Oxley studied her for some time until his cool eyes shuttered. He suddenly laughed. "You ought to be more careful, my lady. Those vicious doors are everywhere!" He'd dispensed with the hat and his blond hair gleamed from the sunlight streaming through the window. "It's indeed a pleasure to see your beautiful face again."

  She curtsied and accepted his praise without so much as a roll of her eyes this time. She was in no mood for teasing. "Would either of you like to tell me what this is all about?"

  Oxley straightened. He frowned and tiny lines bracketed his mouth. His eyes danced, however. She may be in no mood for teasing, but she got the feeling he was. "My lady?"

  She turned to Slade instead and forked an eyebrow at him. "Well?"

  "Allow Lord Oxley time to settle in, Cat," he chided her. "See how eager she is to speak with you, my lord. She's champing at the bit."

  Oxley grinned. "So she is. Well then. Allow me to change into more comfortable clothing and then I'll come to you both. I'm so dusty!"

  Slade beckoned the hovering manservant. "Take Lord Oxley to his rooms. See that he's made comfortable."

  Oxley bowed to Cat then followed the servant out. Once he was gone, Cat said, "Are you going to make me wait longer before you tell me why he's here at all? Did you invite him with the purposes of offering me up as his mistress?"

  "Now, Cat. You know Hislop and I only thought of that scheme yesterday. Oxley's had this visit planned since London."

  "London! Why didn't you tell me?"

  "He told me not to."

  "Why is he here?"

  "His reason for coming is not important."

  "It is to me."

  "The real concern is our plan," he went on as if she hadn't spoken. "Try to look a little more appealing." He pulled down on her bodice at her bust, attempting to lower it.

  She stepped out of his reach. She had wanted to slap him, but even though Hislop wasn't nearby, she didn't feel brave enough. "Don't."

  His nostrils flared. "Change into something more appropriate then meet us in the great hall."

  "More appropriate?" She looked down at her black gown. "Oxley knows I'm in mourning."

  "I'm not referring to the color, but the cut. It should reveal some flesh. Must I explain everything to you?"

  "I will not wear anything more revealing, thank you. Kindly keep your opinions on my dress to yourself."

  She was about to argue when Hislop appeared as if he'd emerged from the stone walls themselves. "You heard him. Change."

  She touched the bruise on her cheek then turned and headed back up the stairs. She was not fool enough to argue with him.

  Hislop and Slade's footsteps retreated in a different direction, giving her pause. She rested her palm against the cool stones of the stairwell wall and drew in a deep breath. She would not wear a low cut gown to seduce Oxley. She didn't possess any low cut gowns, nor would she be party to the mad scheme. Lord Oxley was no killer.

  Instead of continuing upstairs, she walked quickly to the great hall, the first room Oxley would have seen upon arrival. Once settled on her favorite chair by the window, she picked up her sewing and completed a few stitches. It wasn't Oxley who entered first, however, but Slade and Hislop, followed by the maid carrying a tray. She set it down and rushed out again, not making eye contact with anyone.

  Slade strode across the room and stood over Cat. He pinched her sleeve at the shoulder and tugged, almost pulling out the pins that held the sleeve in place. "What's this? I told you to change."

  "There was nothing more appropriate in my wardrobe. You sold my loveliest gowns, my lord. They were the only low-cut ones I had."

  "Then alter one! Tear off a piece!" he spluttered, flinging his arms in the air. The sight of his uncharacteristic blustering unnerved her, but not as much as Hislop's narrowed eyes. Menace lurked in them.

  "I am." She indicated her sewing.

  Hislop snatched the gown out of her hands. He held it up to se
e that she had indeed been working on the bust area. When he saw that she had, he grunted and flung it back at her. She caught it and met his glare with one of her own.

  "When will it be ready?" Slade asked.

  "Tomorrow."

  "That's too late," Hislop snapped. "Work faster."

  "I cannot work any faster. Not on my own. If I had a maid—"

  "We can't spare any."

  "We?" She lowered the gown and summoned all her courage into a glare that she pinned on Hislop. "You mean Lord Slade can't."

  Hislop's top lip curled in a sneer. He stepped toward her and Cat shrank back, regretting her outburst. What had come over her? Damned, foolish pride, that's what. And now she was going to receive another slap for it.

  To her surprise, Slade put up his hand to stop his man from striking her. Hislop seemed just as surprised. He growled low in his throat, but it wasn't clear if his frustration was leveled at Cat or Slade. He stalked away, but did not exit the great hall.

  Slade squatted beside her. "Listen to me, Cat. I know you're upset by our reduced circumstances. I am too. We shouldn't have to bow and scrape. You shouldn't have to wear dull clothes and I shouldn't have to…work so hard to climb out of the mess my brother left behind. None of this is your fault, or mine. Blame Stephen, but only partly. He could have found a way to be clear of his debts, but was unfortunately taken too soon. If you want to blame anyone for this, blame his killer."

  Ah. She was wondering when he would get around to the task he'd set for her. "I do blame his killer," she told him. "I hate him. I hope he'll be dealt justice. But I do not think Lord Oxley is the murderer, and I will not try to trap him in such a manner."

  He thumped the back of her chair with the flat of his hand, very near her shoulder. The thud brought Hislop striding back, a vicious scowl on his face. Cat's fingers tightened around the needle.

  "You're a stupid girl!" Slade growled. "Listen to me. I know what happened. I know Oxley killed him. We must make him pay for…all of this!" He grabbed the gown she was pretending to alter and snatched it from her hands. Pins scattered across the floor and a ball of thread rolled away, leaving an unraveled trail behind. He shook the gown in her face. "Where is your loyalty to the Slade name? Where is your loyalty to your lord and master? Well? It's time you did something useful around here and worked for your keep. You will flirt with Oxley today, and you will sleep with him tonight. Understand?"

  "I do," she whispered. Ice-cold fear slithered down her spine, but she swallowed the lump in her throat and forged on. "I am angry at Stephen's killer. Very much so." That at least was the truth. If he were still alive today, she wouldn't be at Slade's mercy, or Hislop's. She would be secure, living a comfortable if uneventful life. She was utterly furious with the killer, and if she ever got to face him, she'd scratch his eyes out and see that he got justice for what he'd done. But that killer couldn't be Oxley. "My lord, what if he doesn't want me?"

  "Make him want you. You're a woman. Do whatever it is women do to get men to fuck them."

  She didn't gasp at his language or his tone. She was too busy watching Hislop, a menacing gleam in his eye, a cruel twist to his mouth. She flinched just as his hand struck out, grasping her gown at her chest. He jerked her to her feet as easily as if she were an empty sack. He lifted her up so that she was no longer touching the floor rushes, his fist twisting in the fabric, tightening it. His breath reeked.

  She struggled to free herself, shoving at his massive shoulders. He did not let her go. She kicked him in the shin. He hissed in pain, but still did not let her go. He bared his teeth and laughed a brittle, cackling laugh.

  "You shouldn't have done that." He leaned back and eyed the bridge of her nose. He was going to smash his head into her face!

  "And you shouldn't have done that." Oxley's voice came from the doorway. It was not the lilting one of the fop, but the commanding one of her rescuer. He did not shout, but his tone was as forceful and cold as a blade to the throat. "Put her down."

  Hislop slowly lowered her. Once her feet were on the ground, she ran to Oxley. He angled himself so that she was a little behind him. She blinked back at Slade and Hislop, both standing near her chair, silently fuming.

  "Would anyone care to tell me what this is about?" Oxley asked.

  "We're having a family discussion," Slade said. "It's none of your affair."

  "That's where you're wrong." Oxley spoke lightly, but the thread of steel ran clear through his words. "Lady Slade is very much my affair now."

  "I am?" she said. Did that mean he was going to make her his mistress? She wasn't sure whether to be flattered or offended. At the very least, it would have been nice to be asked. On the other hand, it would offer her protection, and at that moment, safety was her greatest need.

  "Considering the situation here, I see no reason to delay our discussions." Oxley half-turned so he could see her, but also keep an eye on Hislop. The brute stood beside Slade, his hand on his sword hilt. "Lady Slade, I've come to offer you a house and your own income until such time as you remarry."

  She blinked slowly. He'd spoken so quickly that she wasn't even sure she'd heard correctly. "What?"

  "No," Slade said, stretching his neck. "I've decided I don't accept."

  "You have no choice," Oxley said, sounding impatient. "This is an arrangement between Widow Slade and me."

  "Wait." She held up her hands. Surely she was dreaming. "Am I supposed to rent this house from you? But I have no money." And yet he'd offered her an income too. Was that to pay the rent?

  "It's my gift to you for as long as you need it."

  Ah. Yes. So he did want her to be his mistress. "I accept," she said before she was even aware that she'd opened her mouth to speak. Perhaps she ought to have shown a little more reluctance and a lot more indignation at his impertinence.

  His eyes crinkled in a smile. "How soon can you be ready?"

  Slade stepped forward and Oxley responded instantly. He once more ensured she was safely behind him. He was unarmed, however. He must have assumed swords weren't worn in the house, as was usual. Only Hislop carried his rapier. He always did. If Hislop drew, Oxley didn't stand a chance.

  She glanced around for potential weapons.

  "Are you asking her to be your mistress?" Slade asked.

  "No!" Oxley placed his hands on his hips and eyed Slade up and down. Now that was a show of indignation. "I expect nothing in return. Not even a peck on the cheek."

  Oh. Well then. What was he offering? She was more confused than ever.

  "She doesn't interest you in that way?" Slade asked.

  "I, er…" Oxley cleared his throat and his cheeks colored. It would seem the suggestion that she be his mistress had offended him. Did he find the thought of bedding her so abhorrent?

  Slade winked at Cat and tugged on his collar then nodded at Oxley, now studying his shoes. She shook her head. She would not force herself on a man who didn't want her. Pride was all she had left in the world and she would hang onto it for as long as she could. She ignored Slade.

  Slade clicked his tongue and blew out a breath.

  Hislop, however, smiled. Cat's insides churned at the sight. "You forget that she is Lord Slade's sister-in-law," he said, coming to stand at Slade's side. "He is entitled to see her whenever he wishes. And I know how my Lord Slade enjoys her company. He and I will be happy to call upon her in her new home since we'll miss her terribly. We'll be sure to visit often. Won't we, sir?"

  Slade quickly nodded. "Very often," he said. "She will not be allowed to become lonely. I might even set my man to live nearby, to be sure she has everything she needs. We're family, after all, and family must look after one another."

  It was a slick move, and one that could have backfired on them if Oxley was a less astute man. They were bargaining on his compassion and his desire not to see her harmed. She'd never met such a champion of women before. To think that a man like him cared about a poor, plain baron's widow! She wondered if he tried to save al
l the women he met, or whether she was just fortunate. She had the absurd notion that he kept cottages all over the country, each one housing a lady in need of protection.

  "The house is out of the way," Oxley said slowly, as if measuring each word carefully. "I won't even bother telling you where it is."

  "You will," Slade said. "I have a duty to her. If you don't then I'll have to tell the relevant authorities how my sweet sister-in-law was abducted against her will."

  The air in the great hall thickened. Cat felt like the walls were closing in on her, suffocating. She might never get away from Slade and Hislop, not even with Oxley's influence and protection. He couldn't afford the scandal of an abduction story. Slade was right. The authorities would investigate and she would be found. She couldn't escape.

  Tears sprang to her eyes, hot and burning. Slade saw them. Hislop too. He grinned. Her only recourse was to do as they said, and throw herself at Oxley. They would be satisfied with nothing less than her being his mistress and doing their filthy spying for them.

  She swallowed the lump in her throat and slipped her hand inside Oxley's. Startled, he looked down at their linked hands, then up at her face. She thought she saw him wince, but that couldn't be it. She wasn't holding him that tightly. He could easily remove his hand if he wanted to. He didn't.

  "My lord, I have a proposal for you," she said quietly. She didn't want Slade and Hislop to hear, but she knew she had to say it in front of them. They would not be satisfied unless they heard her offer herself to Oxley. "I cannot take your house and money without giving something in return." She swallowed again. Why was this so hard? She quite liked the fellow. He was handsome, well built, and charming most of the time. Lying with him in his bed would be pleasant. Yet it was so difficult to say those things to his face.

  Slade cleared his throat. She glanced at him and he urged her with a nod.

  Cat squared her shoulders and thrust out her insignificant chest. "I would like to thank you properly," she forged on. Her voice didn't sound at all like her own. It was throaty, sensual. She ran her hand along Oxley's arm, up his neck above his ruff to his chin. She trailed her fingertips across his jawline and smiled as a muscle pulsed there. He swallowed audibly. His gaze connected with hers. His eyes turned darker, smoky, not at all icy. She wasn't sure if it was desire that she saw in them or not. It could have been confusion or distrust. He gave no response. No bending of his head to kiss her, no pushing her away and ending the farce. There was more work to be done yet.