Barbara Pierce - Sinful Between the Sheets

by Barbara Pierce

  "I will have your note delivered." He grabbed her chin and tipped it upward so she was forced to meet his less than pleased gaze. "Lest you have forgotten, you are my duchess now," he explained, his tone slightly condescend­ing. "That means you are under my protection and follow my orders."

  "Without question," was her flippant retort.

  "Oh, good. I am so pleased we understand each other so well." Fayne unlocked the front door to the town house he had rented, and opened the door. He gestured for her to en­ter. "Anyone here?" he shouted out.

  No one answered his greeting.

  Kilby sniffed and crossed her arms. "Nice, respectful staff you have, Your Grace," she muttered sourly.

  "A lot like my wife," he shot back. "Well, there is no help for it. We are on our own for a few days." "What?"

  He gave her an impatient look. "I have never kept a full staff on hand. There was never any need since I preferred liv­ing alone." That was in the past. Unless he planned on moving them in with his mother, which he would rather not, then he needed to get his household in order. They had been living a vagabond's life since they were married. Such a way of life was not for his new duchess. "Before we left for town, I sent word to my manservant to close up the house and dismiss the staff for a week. We were supposed to be gone longer."

  "Wait!" She stalled him on the stairs. "You are not leav­ing me alone down here."

  Fayne took her hand and led her upstairs to his bed­chamber. This was not how he had envisioned their home­coming. The house was dark and uninviting. The succulent, alluring smell of roasting meat was not wafting from the kitchen. What he preferred to do was strip them both of their clothes and make love to his wife. Unfortunately, he had to be practical. Kilby's attacker was out there, perhaps waiting for a chance to finish what he had started. Nipping was also roaming London wanting to reclaim his missing sisters. Fayne might not be able to lay his hands on his wife's attacker, but he could track down her brother before the man caused any more trouble.

  She sat on the edge Of his bed and glumly observed him as he removed his shirt. The rest of his clothes swiftly fol­lowed. "You are determined to find Archer, are you not?"

  He saw no reason to lie to her. "Yes." Fayne picked up the clean shirt his manservant had thoughtfully laid out for him.

  Kilby got up from the bed and crossed over to him. Once he pulled a clean shirt over his head, she smoothed out the linen and fastened the four buttons on his shirt. It was the kind of intimacy that never failed to fire his blood. "I do not want to remain here alone."

  "You won't." Fayne did not want to distress her. He had let her think he was only pursuing her brother. Unfortu­nately, there were others in town who desired his head just as eagerly as Nipping. While he had no regrets about his life before Kilby, Fayne silently acknowledged that he had lived selfishly, loved a little too liberally, and had collected his fair share of enemies. Their early arrival was unex­pected and he intended to use that element of surprise to his advantage. He would feel better when he had her tucked away someplace safe.

  Kilby curled her hands around on of the end posts of his bed. "It is my opinion—"

  "Enough!" Coolly, he narrowed his green gaze on her as he tied his cravat with efficient, brisk motions. The lady was too used to having her way. Fayne was planning on spend­ing the rest of his life indulging her; nevertheless, this was one of the few instances he was insisting that she listen to his commands. "You are my wife," he said, stressing his claim on her. "I expect obedience from my duchess."

  She looked so stricken by his harsh words, he almost took them back. Whether she realized it or not, he only wanted to protect her.

  Kilby flounced away from him in a huff. She scowled at the ruby and diamond ring he had put on her left hand. "So much for marital bliss, Your Grace."

  They had not spoken another word to each other since their argument in his bedchamber. While she had dashed off a quick note to Priddy, Fayne had hastily finished changing his clothes. Distracted by his private musings, he had silently bundled her into the coach. Her mood vacillated from hurt to outrage as the carriage bounced and rumbled down the street. She had sensed from the beginning that Fayne was a gentleman used to commanding his own fate, and the fates of those under his charge. His flash of temper and auto­cratic demand for obedience had disturbingly reminded Kilby of her brother's disagreeable nature. The comparison had momentarily stunned her into speechlessness. Muti­nous stubbornness had urged her to remain silent.

  His temper had bruised her pride. If she had desired a sullen, unreasonable husband who planned on controlling every aspect 'of her life, she had merely had to wait for Archer to make his selection. As she had gotten to know Fayne, a seed of hope had sprung within her. Despite their hasty flight to Gretna Green, she had started to believe that they could build a comfortable marriage from their grow­ing affection for one another.

  She had been raised with the freedom to make her own decisions. It was unrealistic for Fayne to expect her to blithely surrender to all her husband's dictates without ques­tion. If Fayne was planning on leaving her while he hunted down her brother and attempted to find out who was behind the attack at the lake, did she not have a say on where she should go? Obviously, he did not give a farthing for her opinion. The hateful man had not even bothered to tell her their destination!

  It was only when she recognized the surroundings that Kilby's anger began to dissipate. Fayne had not been com­pletely boorish, after all. He had brought her to the Braw-leys' house, brought her to Gypsy. His thoughtfulness had her regretting several of her unkind thoughts. Kilby longed to see her sister again. She would have recommended the Brawleys' residence herself. However, after she had been attacked at the lake, she had considered it best that she stay away from Gypsy until they knew who had tried to drown her and why.

  Fayne had apparently weighed the risks against the benefits and had concluded otherwise. She could hardly criticize the man for giving her something she wanted, now could she?

  Fayne kept one hand on her arm and the other placed on her lower back as they approached the house on foot. Kilby wondered if he expected her to flee. She rolled her eyes at the idiocy of such a deduction, her lips parted as she pre­pared to thank him for reuniting him with Gypsy.

  The door abruptly opened, and the Brawleys' odd butler with his wild wiry gray hair stood on the threshold. Kilby had encountered the servant briefly during their last visit to the town house. Slightly unkempt, coarse in speech, and opinionated, he was not the kind of servant she would have expected Lady Fayre to employ. Nevertheless, the Braw­leys treated him like a member of the family.

  "Oh, 'tis you. Good tidings are in order, I hear, Your Grace. You seem no worse from your adventure," the man boldly stated.

  "I was fortunate, Hobbs. My bride was extremely gentle with me," Fayne said genially, unruffled by the butler's in­quisitive nature. "Is the family at home?"

  The servant turned his sharp gaze on her. How odd, she thought, his left eye is more prominent than the other. He also had the most fascinating eyebrows. The short spiky hair sprouting from his brow was black, except for ends closest to his wide nose. There, the hair was a long, wispy tuft of white that reminded Kilby of dandelions that had gone to seed. In his youth, the butler might have been taller than Fayne, but age and life's burdens had bowed his lanky frame at the shoulders. Becoming increasingly uneasy un­der his frank stare, Kilby doubted very little escaped the man's notice.

  "Aye," Hobbs said, finally returning his attention to Fayne. "Leastways, they are for ye. I have orders to turn away the curious."

  "The curious?" Kilby asked.

  Fayne gave her an enigmatic glance since this was the first time she had deigned to speak.

  "Him!”—he nodded at Fayne—"eloping with ye as he did, has caused quite a flap with the ton, I must say." The butler gestured for them to step into the front hall. "Not to mention the family."

  "That will be quite enough from you, Hobbs," Maccus B
rawley said sternly as he calmly descended the stairs to join them. "Can't you see you are terrifying poor Kilby."

  "Bah!" the servant said, contorting his face in such a manner that Kilby half expected the man to spit on the marble floor. "If she's brave enough to tangle with the likes of him, I say the lass has mettle or is as balmy as the rest of ye." Not waiting to be dismissed, the butler trudged off in the direction of the kitchen.

  Fayne raised an inquiring brow at his brother-in-law. "It appears Fayre hasn't had much luck wearing down his rough edges. I swear the man gets crustier each time we meet."

  "That means he likes you," Mr. Brawley explained to Fayne. Moving to Kilby, he took her hand and kissed it. "Permit me to be the first to welcome you to our family." Drawing her closer, he led her up the stairs. "Now that you both have returned to London, let me forewarn you. The family will insist that a celebratory ball is planned in your honor."

  Kilby glanced back at her husband. From behind them, she could have sworn she heard Fayne muttering some­thing about the duchess and her damned balls.

  "Uh"—she faltered for words that would not sound in­sulting to her new brother-in-law—"Mr. Brawley, while we are flattered by all the fuss, a ball is not necessary—"

  "Perhaps not, but our mother will insist. It is best if we just indulge her in these matters," Lady Fayre said dryly, meeting them at the landing.

  She was not alone.

  Kilby's eyes filled with tears. Grabbing the front of her skirts, she dashed up the remaining steps and opened her arms. With a joyful gasp, her sister released Lady Fayre's hand and ran toward Kilby. She wrapped her arms around Kilby's waist, holding on to her tightly.

  Kilby felt light-headed as she hugged her sister. Fayne had done this. With his help, they were both free from Archer. "Oh, Gypsy. How I have missed you!"

  Fayne had loathed leaving Kilby. He took comfort in the knowledge that Brawley and his sister would look after his duchess until his return. Kilby had been so distracted by her reunion with Gypsy that she probably had forgotten why he was leaving her.

  Ha! Not likely.

  He had watched the wariness as it eclipsed her joyful expression when he had told Brawley that he needed to speak to him privately. Archer had tarnished what little affection Kilby had had for her brother. Nevertheless, he was still family. She did not want Fayne confronting her brother.

  Kilby would eventually understand that he was simply protecting her, even from that perverted, idiot brother of hers. There was also her unknown assailant. If the villain wanted another chance to hurt Kilby, he would follow them to London.

  Fayne still winced each time he recalled Kilby's caustic retort to his high-handed demand for her obedience. It was not difficult to deduce her dour thoughts. She had traded her overbearing brother and replaced him with a domineer­ing husband. For a lady who had been interested in mar­riage out of necessity, she was probably viewing their hasty elopement as a mediocre alliance. He was going to need more than charm to get back in her good graces.

  Reuniting her with Gypsy had been a rewarding step toward his goal. When he had kissed Kilby farewell at the Brawleys' house, he had felt her lips soften under his quest­ing mouth. His duchess was not pleased with him. Nor, on the other hand, was she wishing him to perdition.

  After he hired a messenger to deliver Kilby's note to Lady Quennell, Fayne sought out Ramscar at his house. The earl was not at home. Fortunately, his butler knew where he had gone. Fayne's next stop was at Tattersall's. At the horse auction he encountered not only Ramscar, but Everod and Cadd, too.

  Turning away from the horse that was currently up on the auction block, Cadd was the first one to notice Fayne. "Ho! Do my eyes deceive me or does the very married Duke of Solitea stand before us," he said, heartily hugging him and slapping him on the back. "I wagered Everod here that you and your duchess would not be seen for at least a fortnight."

  "You have ruined a perfectly good wager," Everod said in mock disappointment. "I fear all of us greatly overesti­mated your prowess. My bet was for three weeks. Ramscar, you put down a month, did you not?"

  The earl extended his hand to Fayne and they shook hands. "I did. I had assumed that your lady had you wrapped around her little finger to get a disreputable rake like you to come up to scratch." He embraced his friend briefly before cuffing him lightly on the ear. "A word to your friends might be appropriate the next time you dash off."

  Everod chuckled, enjoying his friend's downfall too much. "More likely she had her silken hands wrapped around his throbbing rod to get him to hie them off to Gretna Green without a word."

  Fayne accepted their teasing banter graciously. They were all recalling the night several years back when he had drunkenly lectured them all about the folly of marrying too young.

  He had held his father up as an example of the price a man paid for hastily throwing away his freedom. It was only after his father had wedded and bedded his duchess that he had belatedly discovered the lady who owned his soul was the very married Lady Dening. Although he had sired a son on his lover, he had remained with his wife and the children she had given him. The duke's decision had been honor­able, but it had left him with a restless heart. He spent the rest of his life bedding one mistress after another, trying to recapture, albeit briefly, the happiness he had found with the one lady he could not publicly claim for his own.

  It was a mistake he had planned on not making. Almost too drunk to stand, he had proclaimed that he would not marry until he was forty. His friends had boisterously cheered his decision and had made similar outrageous boasts of their own.

  "Our hasty marriage was spurred by events beyond our control," Fayne admitted quietly as he searched the faces of the gentlemen who had gathered to observe the auction. Nipping was not in the crowd.

  Ramscar clamped a hand on Fayne's shoulder. "Christ, you virile, randy bastard! You've already planted your heir in her belly."

  Fayne rolled his eyes heavenward. "Keep your voice down," he cautioned, dreading Kilby's reaction if the bawdy talk reached her ears. "All I need is to have the gossips count­ing on their fingers because my friend cannot keep his mouth shut." Thankfully, no one seemed interested in their conver­sation. "I am making no such announcements regarding my wife's delicate condition," he deliberately drawled. "Yet."

  His friends shrewdly laughed at his slight amendment of the facts. While his wife might not be carrying his child at present, Fayne was intending to dedicate himself to in­sure that she soon would be.

  "Then what are you doing here, Carlisle?" Cadd asked, winking at him suggestively. "There will be no peace for you in this town. Your runaway marriage has the ton agog."

  Ramscar cleared his throat. "And before you blame us, you can thank your family for spreading the news. Brawley told the duchess your good news, and the lady has been telling everyone."

  "I believe she put an announcement in the Times," Everod added helpfully.

  The earl nodded when Fayne put his hand to his head and groaned. He had told Brawley to circulate the news of their elopement. Fayne had assumed that when the gossip finally reached Nipping's ears, it would keep the man from proclaiming that his beloved sister had been carried off against her will. Leave it to his mother not to do things in half-measures.

  "Your mother even hunted the three of us down, demand­ing details about your new bride," Everod said.

  He could just imagine the interrogation his mother had put his friends through. "What did you tell her?"

  With regard to his family, he had always been discreet about his liaisons. He had carefully avoided revealing to his family his interest in Lady Kilby Fitchwolf. Even when Fayne had thought Kilby had been his father's mistress, his primary motivation for keeping their affair a secret from them had not been shame. He had not wanted to cause his family any additional pain. Conversely, if they had learned of his intent, none of them could have dissuaded him from claiming her.

  Cadd carelessly shrugged. "What could we tell her? You hav
e been very cagey about your connection to the lady."

  "Not that she believed us," Everod said, his face con­veying his aggravation about their exchange with his tena­cious mother.

  "Well, I appreciate you all suffering on my behalf, gents," Fayne said, commiserating with their ordeal.

  Before he introduced his new bride to his mother, he and the dowager were going to have to hash everything out. He did not want their first meeting to go awry because of a misunderstanding.

  "I have sought you out because I need your help." Fayne glanced guardedly at the crowd. "But not here."

  His friends followed him out to the street. Everod broke the silence by suggesting, "We can get one of the private rooms at the club."

  Ramscar gestured at a carriage awaiting him across the street. "Cadd, why don't you tie Solitea's horse to your equipage, while he rides with me? We can all meet up at my house since it is the closest."

  Anticipating Everod's argumentative response, the earl said, "If Solitea arrives at one of the clubs, half therfow will know he has returned within the hour." He looked at his friend for confirmation and saw what he needed in Fayne's steady gaze.

  He and Ramscar crossed the street to his carriage. He slowed his stride as he turned his head back at Cadd when the man shouted out his name.

  "I've had designs on your fine horse for some time," the marquess said, grinning. "Are you certain you want to trust me with the beast?"

  Fayne shook his head and waved the man off. Cadd had always envied Fayne's keen eye for prime horseflesh, and his vast resources to outbid him on any beast he coveted. It was a harmless competition between them that had gone on for years.

  A large black coach appeared suddenly, without warn­ing. Fayne turned to see a team of four horses heading di­rectly at him. He could hear the sounds of a whip cracking in the air as the unknown driver urged the team to go faster. The animals were so close he could see foam dripping from their mouths and smell their fear. Fayne threw his body to the side, just as the horses and the coach thundered over the exact spot he had been standing. Despite the near-miss, the driver did not stop, continuing down the street until it vanished from sight entirely.