Barbara Pierce - Sinful Between the Sheets

by Barbara Pierce

  Kilby took a deep breath. She was not entirely defense­less, she thought, as her fingers constricted around the jagged edge of broken porcelain, still concealed beneath the folds of her skirt. "There is only one problem with your plan."

  "And what is that, girl?" he demanded, annoyed that she might have indeed found a flaw.

  "I intend to live, you mad, stupid man," she said, throw­ing the daggerlike porcelain at his face.

  CHAPTER 24

  "For God's sake! Now!" Fayne shouted to Darknell and Cadd. Together they charged and rammed the large, heavy barrel into Lady Quennell's beautiful glass French doors. The destructive sound of splintering wood and tinkling of shattered glass was extremely satisfying to Fayne's ears as they burst into the drawing room.

  Their violent entry into the house only added to the pan­demonium in the room. The drawing room was in disarray. Overturned furniture and broken glass was scattered all about them. On their arrival, Ordish pulled the viscountess into a standing position by her hair. Originally, the pistol had been pressed against Lady Quennell's throat. Strug­gling to keep hold of his fighting captive, the earl was straightening his arm to aim the weapon at Kilby. Shaking the glass off him, Fayne erupted from his crouched posi­tion and dashed toward his wife.

  In the distance, he could hear Ramscar and the others breaking down the other door. Fayne hooked his arm around Kilby's waist and tackled her. She cried out as they hit the hard floor. There was quite a lot of broken crockery scattered about. However, not getting either of them shot was worth the risk.

  From the corner of his eye, he saw Darknell and Cadd cautiously close in on Ordish and Lady Quennell.

  "Damn you, Kilby! I told you not to leave the town house," he roared, his suppressed ire over her disobedience exploding as she continued to struggle in his arms.

  "Let me go!" She strained against him. He rolled her over, using his body as a shield just in case Ordish fired his pistol. "He is going to kill her!"

  "Never," Fayne fiercely vowed.

  The door leading to the hall shattered on its hinges and Ramscar rushed in with a pistol in hand. Everod and the viscountess's butler, Gordon, entered with Nipping in their custody. Everyone seemed to freeze in place as Lady Quen­nell struggled and fought the earl as he tried to bring his arm up and aim the pistol at the viscountess's face.

  "Ramscar, shoot the bastard!" Fayne growled.

  "No!" Kilby cried out, frightened for her friend.

  Ordish whirled around to confront Ramscar, ruining the clear shot at his back. Lady Quennell did not spare a glance at anyone. She was wholly focused on using all her strength to keep the pistol away. It was a battle she had no hope of winning alone. "If you discharge your weapon," the earl boasted triumphantly, "you risk hitting the lady. And I so do want to claim that pleasure for myself."

  Kilby was going to hurt herself if she continued to fight him. Resigned, he crawled off her and hauled her onto her feet. "Christ!" he swore viciously under his breath when he noticed the blood dripping from her fingers. Her palm was a gory mess. Kilby, who seemed determined to escape him, did not seem to be aware of her painful wounds. Pulling out his handkerchief, he thrust the linen into her hand. It was the best he could do until someone managed to get the pistol away from Ordish. He had his hands full keeping his wife from throwing herself on top of the earl's back.

  Ramscar's arm was steady as he took aim. "I'm an ex­cellent shot, my lord." Still, he hesitated. The deadly shift­ing dance the older couple seemed to perform as each one grappled for the upper hand prevented him from pulling the trigger.

  "You will have to be, sir," Ordish countered, knowing he was surrounded. Although he had lost his chance to coldly murder Kilby, he could have his revenge on the vis­countess. "Anything less than a kill will not stop me from putting a large, ugly hole into Pridwyn's face."

  "She is my mother, Fayne," Kilby said, her desperation vibrating through her slender figure. "He will kill her for that fact alone."

  Lady Quennell surprised them all by taking the matter into her own hands. Abruptly releasing her grip on his arm, she drove her fist into Lord Ordish's hip, the one he had injured last summer. The earl cried out at the sudden burst of pain and his leg gave out. The couple fell to the floor.

  Fayne, Darknell, and Cadd all lunged for the man, at­tempting to separate him from the viscountess. Whatever had driven Lord Ordish to violence was ending, but the man was determined to fight them all until he had his re­venge. He brought the pistol up to Lady Quennell's throat, his finger poised on the trigger.

  Instead of forcing his hand down, the viscountess in­stinctively shoved his hand higher, away from her neck.

  Kilby's scream could be heard over the deafening dis­charge of the pistol. Dispelling the billowing smoke with her hands, she helped Fayne drag Lady Quennell away from Ordish.

  Shaken by the explosion, the older woman stared blankly at the unmoving earl while Kilby hugged her. "Is—is he dead?"

  Fayne's grim gaze met Ramscar's. Curtly nodding, his friend lowered the pistol to his side. Discreetly positioning himself between the ladies and the earl's body, Fayne crouched over Ordish.

  There was no doubt the man was dead. The proximity of the discharge from Ordish's own pistol had ruined his face. The lead ball had entered the earl's left cheek, shat­tering his right eye socket, and the lethal fragments had pierced his brain. "Yes," Fayne called back over his shoul­der. "Ordish won't bother anyone again."

  "Fayne, she should be in bed," Kilby whispered to her hus­band.

  Once he had announced that Lord Ordish was dead, he had picked her up into his arms, ordered his companions to assist Priddy, and had carried her into the library. There, he had pushed a glass of brandy into her hands and harshly demanded that she drink it. Kilby tentatively took a sip. A barrel of the stuff was not going to blot out her memories of Lord Ordish.

  "Kilby, you do not have to fuss," Priddy lightly chided, when she joined them. She seemed remarkably calm in spite of her horrifying ordeal. If her dress had not been splattered with the earl's blood, one might have thought they were enjoying a social call. "I understand, Your Grace, your friends will eventually return with the constable, and everyone will have questions."

  "It can all wait until later, can it not?" Kilby said, exas­perated, knowing she was being difficult. She could not seem to resist. Ever since they had left the drawing room, she could not prevent the anger from overwhelming her. Nor could she seem to stop shaking, which in turn made her even more incensed. "Lord Ordish is certainly not go­ing anywhere."

  "Kilby," Fayne growled.

  It was only the three of them in the library. Ramscar, Everod, and Cadd had left the house to gather the appropri­ate authorities, while Darknell and Gordon remained below in the front hall with Archer. Kilby had not had a chance to ask how her brother had gotten involved in this mess.

  "I think we need to discuss matters before we speak to the authorities," Fayne said, sounding practical and sane. It was all Kilby could do not to grit her teeth.

  "I concur." Priddy covered her mouth as her eyes filled with tears. It took her a few minutes to get control over her emotions. "Forgive me. You have been enormously patient with me, Your Grace. More than I deserve, considering that Kilby almost died because of me."

  Fayne took the viscountess's hand and squeezed it com­fortingly. His green eyes shifted to his wife's, hardening slightly as he shook his head ruefully. "No, madam, Kilby has a knack for getting into trouble all by herself."

  Kilby brought her chin up haughtily at his remark. She and Priddy had just fought off a madman. If she had hoped his anger over her blatant disobedience would have waned in the face of adversity, she was sadly mistaken. "On a few issues, my husband is correct, Priddy. I should have men­tioned Lord Ordish."

  "You should have mentioned a hell of a great deal more, Kilby," Fayne said, causing her to wince at his biting tone.

  He was furious over her rebellious decision to leave the Brawley
s' town house.

  "Do you understand the danger you were in as a result of your reckless actions?" Fayne asked, staring at her as if he were tempted to paddle her backside in front of the vis­countess. "Your lack of faith in me put you tidily into the hands of a madman."

  "I did not exactly ..." Kilby trailed off with a weary sigh. "Well, not really ... at least not for long anyway, thanks to you and your friends."

  "The note he forced the viscountess to write preyed upon your fears. You know me well enough to know that I care little what the ton thinks. Even if anyone had believed your brother's lies about your questionable parentage, do you think it would have mattered? You wouldn't have been the first duchess in our family to be embroiled in a scandal. You disappoint me, Duchess. You should have trusted me to handle your brother." He stood and rubbed the stiffness in his neck.

  Priddy flashed Kilby a sympathetic look, hoping to ease the sting of Fayne's criticism. "Your Grace, I beg of you to strive for patience. Archer has been influencing Kilby longer than you. Her brother took every opportunity to abuse his position, cruelly attempting to justify his perverted nature. Lord Ordish had heard rumors about how Archer had taken Kilby from my house, and had deduced that Kilby would come to protect me. In truth, I am to blame for this debacle."

  Kilby's shoulders slumped in despair. "I just thought of something. If Lord Nipping is my father, then Archer is truly my brother." She was not pleased by the revelation.

  "Blood tie or not," Fayne said forbiddingly, glaring at the closed library door as if he could see through it down to the troubled marquess. "It will not spare him, not even for you, Kilby. I may consider leniency, if your brother will­ingly surrenders his guardianship of Gypsy to me and does not contest our marriage. If he wants a fight, I will take him to the courts. The Carlisles have the wealth and influence to break him."

  Priddy cleared her throat, taken aback by the vehe­mence in the duke's vow. No one doubted that Fayne would bend Archer to his will. "Rest assured, my girl, Lord Nipping was your father. Lord Ordish told you essentially the truth, though his resentment clouded his perception."

  Kilby set her glass down. She had a thousand questions to ask Priddy. The pain of what she had lost rose up within her like an all-consuming wave, leaving her devastated. "Why was I not told the truth? After my parents' death, you could have told me." Fayne's silence was very telling. Kilby wondered how much of the truth he had gleaned on his own.

  "What truth?" Priddy asked. “The moment Grennil pushed you into Ermina's arms, you were hers. If I had been given the choice, I could not have picked a more loving, su­perior lady than my dear friend Ermina for your mother."

  She had such conflicting emotions battering her insides. Priddy was right. Lady Nipping was her mother. To think otherwise was a betrayal, especially now that she knew the true circumstances of her birth. Then there was her friend Priddy. She loved the viscountess. The lady had suffered silently, giving up the child she had clearly desired. Fayne seemed to sense her torment. Putting his personal annoy­ance with her aside, he gathered her into his arms and set­tled them both down into the chair. Kilby leaned against him, craving the strength and heat that radiated from him.

  Priddy's light blue eyes grew distant as she spoke of the past. "Knowing Grennil, I assume he had expected Lady Nipping to coldly reject her husband's bastard daughter. Maybe he had hopes of ruining their marriage. I do not know. He was certainly capable of it." The viscountess qui­etly sipped her brandy. She lifted her head, bracing her shoulders. Speaking of the past had always been difficult for her. "My brief affair with your father was not as sordid as Lord Ordish purported. I thought my marriage was over when I encountered Lord Nipping. His first wife had just died and he had an infant son to raise alone. For a time, we turned to each other for comfort. It was only afterward that I realized I was with child. By then, your father had met Er­mina, and had fallen in love. I was still married to Grennil so I saw no reason to ruin their happiness."

  "Were you in love with my father?" Kilby asked, before she could censure the unbidden thought.

  Lady Quennell briefly reflected on the question. "It was a difficult time for me, my dear. Lord Nipping was so un­like the gentleman I had married. He was generous and romantic, and for a while, I suppose I did think myself in love with him. That, naturally, changed when he met your mother. They were so perfect, so wonderful together."

  Tears sjione in Kilby's violet eyes. "I know." Her parents had loved each other with an enviable passion. That love had encompassed their children. The blood ties Lord Ordish had claimed were so important, had not mattered to the woman she had believed was her mother. Kilby glanced up at Fayne. She lightly caressed his beard-stubbled jaw. He shuddered and leaned into her hand.

  "Ermina saw you as the miracle you were. It immedi­ately became apparent to your parents that even if they had tried to return you to me, I could not keep you, not even acknowledge you. Grennil was abusive," Priddy confessed, she glanced away, ashamed. "You would not have been safe in my care. My husband could not forgive my betrayal. When he took you from me, he broke my spirit in ways I never thought possible."

  She reached out for the viscountess's hand. "Oh, Priddy." With hands clasped, Kilby ached for the older woman. Lady Quennell had always been part of her family's life. The beautiful, elegant lady with a flirtatious smile had visited Ealkin several times a year laden with gifts for the Nipping children and adventurous stories to amuse her parents. "You were always a part of our lives, and yet I never guessed."

  "You were not supposed to," Fayne murmured, cuddling her closer. "The arrangement protected not only you from Lord Ordish's wrath, but the viscountess as well."

  "You are correct, Your Grace," Priddy conceded with a subtle nod.

  "Call me Carlisle," Fayne said, shrugging gracefully. "Or Tem, if you prefer. It is what the family calls me."

  The viscountess's face crumpled, overwhelmed by her new son-in-law's kindness. "Very well—Tem." Her breath quivered when she exhaled. "Your astuteness serves you well. Grennil was never quite rational after he surrendered Kilby to the Nippings. Even after he was granted the di­vorce, I feared him. I left England for several years, hoping he would forget about me. It was your mother, Kilby, who kept in touch. When word reached her that Grennil had left England, she urged me to return home. Your family by then, was living quietly at Ealkin. Your father never had any patience for the ton. In those early years, discreet visits to Ealkin by an old friend of the family went unnoticed. Eventually, Grennil became Lord Ordish, and I married my Lord Quennell. It was simpler, and perhaps kinder, to distance myself from the sorrowful lady who had been forced to give up her baby."

  Kilby slipped away from Fayne's embrace. Kneeling beside her newly found mother, she said, "No one is blam­ing you, least of all me. You deserved to be happy, Priddy."

  The viscountess cupped Kilby's face with her hand. "I have made mistakes. I should have told you the truth about me, about Grennil, after your parents' deaths. If I had, you would not have believed Archer's lies or encountered Lord Ordish—"

  "Or become my duchess," Fayne said dryly. "Or found you. To embrace the joy in our lives, my lady, we must re­sign ourselves to the bad. In my case, it is Kilby's brother. However, with Ordish permanently out of the way, I have high hopes Nipping will soon follow."

  CHAPTER 25

  "Perhaps we should have taken Priddy up on her offer to remain at her house?"

  Kilby sounded nervous. Fayne knew her anxiety had nothing to do with the shocking discovery that the lady was her mother. Kilby already loved the viscountess. In time, she would understand that accepting the lady as her mother was not a betrayal to the memory of the lady who raised her. She was fortunate to have had two mothers who loved her, who thought only of her happiness.

  Fayne gave her a playful nudge up the pathway, which led to the Solitea town house. "No. Ordish's body was re­moved and the authorities are satisfied. Priddy told you that she planned to go to bed and rec
over from her ordeal. With luck, I anticipate doing the same. Perhaps the urge to paddle your backside will wane in a month or two."

  "Are you frightfully angry at me?" she asked in a faint, slightly childish voice.

  Fayne felt himself soften, despite his resolve not to let her off so lightly. "What do you think? You disobeyed an order meant only for your protection and then shared tea with your would-be killer. How angry do you think I should be?" he muttered crossly. He had not been married to the lady a week, and already he was losing his sanity. If the So­litea curse did not claim him, chasing after his errant duchess was likely to put him in an early grave.

  Still rebellious, Kilby pouted. "Not so angry as to feed me to the dragon."

  Fayne halted, thoroughly perplexed by her reasoning. "What the devil are you talking about?" With the exception of some cuts on her hand, Kilby had escaped the fate Or­dish had planned for her and the viscountess relatively un­scathed. Her nonsensical chatter was making him reconsider his opinion.

  She glowered at the Solitea town house. "I am talking about you handing me over to your mother. I suppose I de­serve whatever punishment you deem appropriate. Frankly, however, I am exhausted and not quite up to being de­voured by your mother this evening."

  So much had happened, he had forgotten Kilby's con­cerns about his family. "Little wolf, my mother knows I have married. She knows who I have married."

  "And probably fearful of your life, considering your fa­ther's tragic fate," she added tartly. Kilby seized the edges of his coat. "Please, Fayne, can we go someplace else? Your town house? Who cares if there are servants or not? Or—or your sister's house? Or even sleep on the bank of the Thames? I am not fussy."

  Fayne gathered his wife close. Kilby had taken on a murderous earl, but the thought of meeting his mother par­alyzed her with terror. "The duchess is harmless," he said, guiding her to the door. "Wait and see. She'll come to love you as much as I do."