Wicked Temptation

by Carole Mortimer

  “Yes.”

  “Titus did not trust your own agents to protect me.”

  A nerve pulsed in the duke’s cheek. “It appears not.”

  She nodded. “I am sure you understand why.”

  “Do I?”

  Pru narrowed her eyes. “You may be a duke, and so above me in Society, but I advise you do not attempt to play the innocent with me. Not when we are both aware there is a traitor in our midst. One who has now committed murder three times in an effort to cover up their other crimes.”

  The duke stilled, his gaze wary. “What do you know of this traitor?”

  She gave a snort. “One thing I know with absolute certainty—it is not me! I also know,” she continued as he would have spoken, “that your own wife is one of the ladies under suspicion. Indeed, I believe the duchess is the only lady left of the original eight suspected of treason.”

  His hands were clenched at his sides. “Titus should not have told you—”

  “Do not presume to come here and tell me what Titus should not have done.” Pru stepped forward before moving up on tiptoe, her face now only inches away from the duke’s. “Look to your own household before you dare to criticize anything that happens within mine!”

  The two continued to glare at each other for long seconds before Stonewell drew back slightly, his gaze flinty. “I sent my wife and mother-in-law to the country first thing this morning.”

  “What purpose does that serve when your wife obviously has no trouble instructing one of her associates to carry out the murders rather than doing the deed herself?” Pru challenged.

  His nostrils flared. “You have no proof of that.”

  “Do you?”

  He drew in a harsh and controlling breath. “Unlike Titus, I will not discuss Crown business with you.”

  “Strange, I have absolutely no problem doing so with you.”

  “I have done what I can, by having now placed several of my own agents temporarily outside this house. I have expressed my regret and sympathies regarding the death of another member of your household—”

  “I want your action, not your sympathies!” she snapped furiously.

  He gave a haughty inclination of his head. “I have already informed the relevant authorities that I shall be taking over the investigation into last night’s shooting.”

  “How convenient for you.”

  “Lady Prudence—” The duke broke off any tirade he was about to make, drawing in several calming breaths before speaking again. “I have taken your…comments this morning on the subject under advisement.”

  “But you will do nothing about them,” she scorned.

  The duke drew himself up to his impressive height of several inches over six feet, his expression uncompromising. “Might I see Titus now?”

  Some of Pru’s fight left her at the thought of the man lying in one of the guest bedchambers upstairs. The second shot fired had entered Titus back before lodging high at the front of his chest, ripping through muscle and bone but miraculously not damaging any of his vital organs.

  All had been chaos the previous night once Pru’s screams brought several of the footmen and maids, as well as the housekeeper, to see what all the ruckus was about. All of them had been wearing various night attire, several of the ladies with their hair curled and pinned. Parker would have been horrified at their lack of decorum—

  A sob caught in Pru’s throat at thoughts of the Germaines’ butler, of his dead body sprawled in the open doorway of the house. The first bullet fired had struck him directly through the heart.

  Pru had known Parker all her life, knew him to be totally loyal to the Germaine family and always kind and attentive to the family’s needs.

  Pru had been in shock once she realized what had happened, but as all the servants fell into hysteria of one level or another—they were a close-knit bunch, and Parker had been the benevolent head of the household—Pru had been left with no other choice but to take charge of the situation.

  She had immediately sent one of the footmen for the doctor so that he could attend to Titus’s wound and also confirm Parker’s death. After which, she had calmed the remaining servants, sending those not needed back to bed and utilizing the rest to carry Parker back into the house and place him on the couch in the drawing room and Titus upstairs so that she might stanch his wound and wait for the doctor to arrive.

  It had been the early hours of this morning before the doctor left again, having located and removed the bullet by making a slight incision in his chest, before then stitching up Titus’s wounds, front and back. He left instructions Romney was to be watched carefully for the next twenty-four hours, at least. Pru had spent what was left of the night awake and seated at Titus’s bedside. He had not woken or stirred once. Pru had only left his bedside now, leaving one of the maids there in her stead, because of the duke’s arrival.

  She had written and sent two letters this morning, one to Stonewell informing him of the incident, the second letter on its way to her parents in Bedfordshire to notify them of Parker’s death. Pru fully expected they would arrive back in London within the week.

  “Romney has not woken since he was shot,” she now informed the duke. “Not surprising when this bullet wound has occurred so soon after his previous injuries.” She had seen no signs of Titus’s regaining consciousness as yet, which was worrying in itself. “I see no point in you visiting an unconscious man.”

  Stonewell’s expression grew colder still. “Then you obviously do not understand the close friendship we and the other Sinners have shared for so many years. We have already lost Worthington. I need to see for myself that Titus still lives,” he added harshly as Pru was about to refuse for a second time.

  Pru’s cheeks burned at the rebuke, knowing that last admission could not have been easy for such a coldly remote man as the Duke of Stonewell. “Very well.” She nodded abruptly.

  “I will also make arrangements to have him moved from here to my own home later today—”

  “You most certainly will not,” Pru protested indignantly.

  “It is not appropriate for him to remain here when your parents are not in residence.”

  “I assure you, Titus is in no condition to be of danger to me or my reputation.”

  “Nevertheless…”

  “Titus shall remain here,” she maintained stubbornly. “Where I can see to his care and safety myself.”

  Icy-blue eyes narrowed. “You do not trust me to do so.” It was a statement, not a question.

  Pru eyed him scornfully. “Is there some reason why I should?”

  “He is my friend—”

  “Who has twice now been seriously injured whilst carrying out your orders!”

  Stonewell’s jaw tensed. “You are impertinent, madam!”

  “Indeed I am.” Pru remained unrepentant.

  The two continued to glare at each other for several seconds before Stonewell visibly forced the tension to ease from his wide shoulders. “You have my word I will not allow any more harm to come to Titus,” he said quietly.

  Pru’s resentment was not so easily appeased. “I fully appreciate your concern for your friend, and that of the other Sinners, but I assure you, I am not being deliberately unreasonable.” She gave a tight smile as the duke breathed heavily through his nose in disagreement with the statement. “I am sure the doctor would agree with me, if you were to ask him, that Titus is not well enough as yet to be moved anywhere. Besides,” she continued before he could reply, “I believe him to be safer here than at Stonewell House.”

  The vein at the duke’s temple pulsed. “I have told you my wife and mother-in-law are no longer in residence.”

  She nodded. “Which does not preclude them returning whenever they choose.”

  His brows rose. “They would not dare to do so without my permission.”

  Stonewell had Pru’s sympathy for the difficult position he found himself in. But not enough so she would agree to endanger Titus’s life a third t
ime. “Titus is perfectly safe where he is. I suggest that you spend your own time seeking out and speaking to Titus’s men,” she continued as the duke would have interrupted. “They might know more of yesterday evening’s shooting than I am able to tell you.”

  “I already have that in hand.”

  “Then there appears nothing more to be said.”

  Stonewell continued to look at her for several long seconds, a penetrating gaze Pru withstood with a challenging lift of her chin. “Does Titus know what a champion he has in you?” he finally mused.

  Color warmed her cheeks. “I am only giving him the same protection which he has provided for me these past seven weeks.”

  The ghost of a smile tilted the duke’s stern mouth. “Against my knowledge.”

  She raised her chin. “Titus is not a man to ask for your own or anyone’s permission when he decides on a course of action.”

  “You like that in him?”

  Pru lifted her brows. “Of course.”

  “He is a fortunate man.”

  Was that wistful longing Pru could hear in Stonewell’s voice? Oh, not because of her protectiveness toward Titus, but perhaps in regard to his own relationship with his duchess?

  Pru did not pretend to know of the depth or otherwise of the relationship between the Duke and Duchess of Stonewell, but it had been impossible to miss the lack of warmth in their relationship yesterday evening.

  Presenting several questions to Pru.

  Such as, had the Stonewell’s marriage been a love match?

  Or merely one of convenience?

  Whichever of those it was, whether Stonewell loved his duchess or not, life must have been hellish for him these past months with the suspicion of treason regarding his own wife. Nor could she fault him for wanting proof of the guilt or innocence of every other one of those eight ladies before investigating his own wife.

  Pru’s demeanor softened slightly. “I will take you to see Titus now.”

  Stonewell gave an acknowledging bow. “Thank you.”

  “But he will remain here until he is well enough to return to his own home,” she added firmly once they stood outside the bedchamber where Titus lay.

  “Of course,” the duke accepted gruffly. “But, with your permission, I will arrange for his valet to join him here later today.”

  Pru shot him a teasing glance. “You have it. But just so that you understand, I am no more fooled by your supposed easy acquiescence than I am Titus’s.”

  Stonewell chuckled. “And I would no more dare to challenge any of your decisions than he obviously does.”

  Pru gave a snort of laughter. “I see now why the two of you are friends.”

  He eyed her curiously. “Do you?”

  “Oh yes.” Her smile widened. “But arrogance and determination of will only serve the both of you until that irresistible force meets an immovable object. In regard to Titus, I am become that immovable object,” she stated without apology.

  “I realize that.”

  “And accept it as such?”

  “And accept it.” The duke nodded. “Titus shall remain here until you, or he, deem he is well enough to be moved elsewhere.”

  Quite when that would be, Pru had no idea.

  Nor did she have any wish for Titus to leave, to be apart from him again.

  Ever.

  Chapter 9

  “The doctor said this morning I might start having some red meat in my diet.” Titus gazed down at the bowl of soup sitting on the tray Pru had placed in front of him as he sat in a chair beside the window.

  “That is a beef broth,” Pru dismissed as she tidied the blanket about his legs.

  His eyes narrowed. “A thin liquid that has been strained of anything resembling meat and vegetables is not the same as a nice juicy piece of beef to get my teeth into.”

  “You are not well enough to get your teeth into a juicy piece of beef—”

  “The doctor said—”

  “I was present during the doctor’s visit, Titus.” She straightened to eye him reprovingly. “What he actually said was you might slowly start to return to some of your usual activities, such as—”

  “One of which is the eating red meat!”

  “Such as,” she continued firmly, “getting out of bed—which you have now done.” She indicated his seat in front of the window. “And dressing.” She nodded to where he wore a silk robe over his nightshirt. “Your valet was in here earlier seeing to your wash and shave prior to Stonewell’s usual morning visit.” Edgars, Titus’s valet, had duly arrived on the Duke of Stonewell’s instruction several days ago, along with a portmanteau of the viscount’s clothes and belongings he would need for his stay here.

  Pru had to admit the valet had become extremely helpful with Titus’s care, taking over the vigil in the bedchamber whenever Pru needed to sleep or bathe and change her clothes.

  Titus stared at Pru in frustration. He didn’t give a damn about his appearance when it felt as if he was being starved to death these past four days of being confined to his bed. Well…not his bed, but a bed in one of the guest bedchambers at Germaine House.

  Quite how Pru had managed that in the face of what he knew had been strong opposition from Stonewell and several of the other Sinners, he did not care to think. Stonewell had muttered something about “immovable objects” when Titus questioned him on the subject.

  Even with his own valet in residence, Titus knew he should not be alone here with Pru. It simply was not done for a gentleman to be in the home of a single lady for this amount of time, even if that gentleman was incapacitated.

  And yet here he was, a virtual prisoner to Pru’s ministrations and strict adherence to “five minutes only” whenever one of The Sinners dared to visit him here.

  He leaned back in the chair. “You are taking your duties as my nurse far too seriously, Pru.”

  “Too seriously?” she echoed, two bright spots of indignant color appearing in her cheeks. “You almost died four days ago. Parker did die,” she added emotionally.

  “And for that, I am most sorry.” Titus nodded. “But your parents will be arriving home soon, and they are going to be far from happy at finding me here,” he predicted.

  “Nonsense,” Pru dismissed. “They will be as grateful to you as I am for ensuring my safety to the detriment of your own. You were protecting me when the bullet struck you in the back,” she reminded him huskily.

  Titus placed the tray of food on the table beside him. “Pru, you cannot dwell on things that might have been, only what is. Yes, I was shot,” he continued as she would have spoken. “But I am well on the mend now.”

  She sniffed. “I beg to differ.”

  He bit back the sharpness of his reply, knowing Pru was motivated by worry and fear rather than any true intention of dominating him. Because of what had happened to the Germaine butler. A death Titus deeply regretted, and which he knew had affected Pru greatly coming so quickly after the death of her beloved sister.

  “Remove your drawers and come here to me,” he instructed as she now fussed with straightening the bedcovers.

  Pru ceased what she was doing to give him a startled glance. “What?”

  “Your reaction shows me you heard me the first time.”

  “I do not think—”

  “I am not requiring you to think, only to do as I ask,” Titus grated.

  Her cheeks were flushed. “It sounded like an order—”

  “If it had been an order, then I should now be getting to my feet with the intention of punishing you for your disobedience.”

  Her throat moved as she swallowed. “The doctor said—”

  “The doctor is not here, I am,” Titus stated firmly. “And I require that you remove your drawers this instant and then come here to me.”

  “If this is some ridiculous attempt on your part to prove how recovered you are—”

  “It is not to be an attempt but a determination to do so,” he assured her dryly. “I am still waiting, Pru
.”

  “I… No… Very well, I will do as you ask,” she hastily agreed as he threw off the blanket with the intention of rising to his feet and going to her. “You are as much a bully as ever, I see,” she accused.

  “And you are as much a teasing witch,” he returned wryly.

  Pru reached awkwardly beneath her gown to unfasten her drawers. “If anyone should come in…” She gave a self-conscious glance toward the closed door as she allowed her drawers to fall to the floor before stepping out of them.

  Titus snorted. “No one would dare enter without your permission.”

  She gave him a quizzical glance after placing her drawers on the bed. “I thought only of your health by limiting your visitors and the time each of them stayed.”

  “And now my health is better, I can think only of the heat of your pussy.”

  “Titus!” Her cheeks burned.

  He arched a mocking brow. “Prudence?”

  She walked toward him slowly, very aware of the brush of her gown against the bareness of her thighs and limbs. “Perhaps you are on the mend after all.” She gasped as Titus reached out to grasp her wrist to pull her forward until she lost her balance and straddled his thighs, her dress pushed up to her thighs, her hands lightly gripping his shoulders. “But I am not sure you are well enough for—for this.” She was totally flustered by the suddenness of Titus’s demands after his previous days of incapacity.

  “My cock disagrees,” he assured her. “I doubt I am as yet up to experimenting with any of those pictures or positions you saw in your father’s books, but I have been lying abed for four days now, unable to do anything else but imagine all the things I wished to do to you as you moved about the bedchamber seeing to my needs. I should now like to do something for you.”

  Her breath caught in her throat. “Such as…?”