A Dangerous Temptation (Bow Street Brides Book 5)

by Jillian Eaton

  “As I said, it was just a small nick,” she repeated even as a tiny thrill went through her. There was something deliciously uncivilized about having a man willing to defend and protect you. Particularly when that man looked like Tobias Kent. “I’m perfectly all right.”

  “My daughter is not all right!” Vanessa cried. There went her arms again, jabbing at the air as if swatting at tiny invisible bees. Amelia had never seen the like of it. “Someone tried to kill her. And I know precisely who it was!”

  Kent shook off Lord Hargrave’s arm and stepped towards the duchess.

  “Did ye see his face?” he asked tersely.

  Vanessa blinked. “His face? No, but I didn’t need to. Lady V is the one behind this!”

  Oh for heaven’s sake.

  Not this again.

  As soon as Amelia had shared the details of her attack, Vanessa had immediately begun to leap to conclusions, the most outlandish of which involved a plot concocted by London’s most notorious gossip to dethrone Amelia and take her place as ‘the most eligible lady in London’.

  Never mind that Amelia hadn’t even been ranked in the Top Ten this Season.

  Or the one before it.

  She’d certainly made a splash at her debut, and most would call her second season a smashing success after she’d accumulated no less than fifteen marriage proposals, but after she refused each and every single bid for her hand attention began to wane until only the serious fortune hunters were left, the most persistent of which had been Lord Reinhold.

  May he rest in something that vaguely resembled peace.

  Of course, Amelia wasn’t unpopular. As the daughter of a duke with no scandal attached to her name (yet), she was definitely still in the first tier of eligible heiresses. But she was hardly worth the trouble of paying an assassin to murder her.

  “Mother–” she began, but the duchess immediately cut her off.

  “That gossiping harlot is jealous of my daughter. You should see the horrible things she has written about her! If anyone wanted Amelia dead, it was that little social climber,” Vanessa hissed. “She hired someone to do her dirty work for her. Mark my words!”

  Lord Hargrave’s ebony brow creased in confusion. “Lady V?”

  “The anonymous writer of a popular gossip column in The London Caller,” Amelia explained with a sigh. “Who has absolutely nothing to do with this.”

  Vanessa’s cheeks flushed. “You don’t know that!”

  “Yes, Mother, I do. Why don’t you sit and have a cup of tea?” She patted the chair beside her. “You’re looking slightly peaked.”

  Truth be told, the Duchess of Webley looked worse than Amelia could ever remember seeing her. Instead of a flawlessly tailored gown she wore a simple velvet wrapper over her high-necked night dress and instead of an impeccably styled coiffure her hair fell in a wispy braid down the middle of her back. Her face was scrubbed clean of creams and powders, revealing deep purple shadows beneath her eyes. There were lines across her forehead and branching out from the corners of her mouth that were not ordinarily visible. For the first time her mother looked old. An observation that sat uneasily with Amelia, who had presumed – as all children did – that Vanessa would remain as she’d always been, untouched by the years that went by even as Amelia continued to grow and age.

  “I – I do feel rather flush,” the duchess admitted. But instead of reaching for the tea service, she sat down and clutched Amelia’s hand before turning to the Runners. “Please,” she implored them. “Find who did this. Find who tried to harm my precious girl.”

  Amelia glanced at her mother askance, astonished at the emotion she heard in her voice. Their relationship had been tenuous as of late, what with the Earl of Reinhold’s sudden passing and Lady V’s accusation and Amelia’s refusal to leave London. But those were genuine tears shimmering in the Duchess of Webley’s eyes, and seeing them Amelia felt her own eyes begin to sting.

  After her aunt’s revelation in the tea shop, she’d been having trouble reconciling the mother she thought she knew with the woman who had cuckolded her husband. There was part of her that wanted to ignore it. To pretend she’d never learned of her mother’s affair and go on as if nothing were amiss. Except as much as she would have liked to, she couldn’t. Some skeletons were better left in their closets, but some needed to be exhumed to discover why they’d been locked away in the first place.

  Yet no matter what secrets the Duchess of Webley was hiding or what past misdeeds she’d committed, one thing had been made clear this night: she loved her daughter.

  Even if she showed it in unconventional ways.

  “Not to worry, Your Grace,” said Lord Hargrave. “This investigation will be our top priority.”

  “I should hope so,” Vanessa said with a haughty sniff. “Her father is the Duke of Webley, you know. I fail to see any other circumstance under which your priorities would be better placed elsewhere.”

  “We’ll need to speak to every member of the staff. Tonight, preferably. It should also go without saying that no one is to leave until they have been questioned.” Lord Hargrave removed a small leather bound journal from the inside pocket of his waistcoat and absently straightened his cravat. Despite the late hour he’d arrived dressed as if he were attending a ball, whereas Tobias wore his typical black in the form of an oversized tailcoat that fell past his knees and trousers that fit snugly against his muscular thighs.

  Unable to help herself, Amelia stole a quick peek at him from beneath her lashes and her cheeks warmed when she discovered he was staring straight back at her, his penetrating gaze impossible to decipher. Was he happy to see her? Was he not? Did he yearn to kiss her again? Or was he looking for the nearest window to jump out of?

  Her mouth compressed into a flat line of annoyance when she recalled the lengths he’d gone to escape her company the last time they’d been together. A carriage door was one thing, but a second-story window… He really could have broken his neck on the rickety old fire escape, and would that truly have been preferable to taking the additional time and effort to exit the conversation as a gentleman would? Through the front door?

  It wasn’t as if she were asking for a marriage proposal.

  Just a suitor who didn’t risk live and limb to get away from her.

  Still, there was no other man she’d rather have standing in her drawing room in the middle of the night, even though the circumstances under which Tobias had been summoned were less than ideal.

  Her gaze flicked back to him. He was still looking right at her, albeit this time with the faintest of smiles, as if he could read her thoughts and found them amusing. Her frown deepened.

  Devilish man.

  If she didn’t know any better, she’d suspect he was being difficult on purpose for the sheer pleasure of ruffling her feathers. Which he’d done, of course. Numerous times.

  Any more ruffling and she’d begin to cluck like a chicken.

  “Where is your husband, Your Grace?” Lord Hargrave tapped the sharpened end of a pencil against the cover of his journal. “I would think he would be down here with his family.”

  “My husband is recovering from an injury. I did not feel it necessary to wake him.”

  “What kind of injury?”

  Vanessa stiffened. “I doubt very much if that is your concern.”

  “Just answer their questions, Mother,” Amelia said softly with an apologetic glance at Lord Hargrave. “They’re only trying to help.”

  “They can help by finding the person who tried to harm you while you laid defenseless in your bed! That’s how they can help.” Releasing her daughter’s hand, the Duchess of Webley surged to her feet. “I am going upstairs to rest.” She splayed her fingertips across her forehead. “I – I fear I feel a megrim coming on. Amelia, come along.”

  But Amelia remained seated. “I want to answer their questions.”

  Vanessa’s mouth opened as if she were going to argue, then her lips pinched tightly together. “Very well.
I shall have your aunt sent down.”

  “I apologize,” Amelia said once her mother’s footsteps had faded away. “She is quite upset.”

  Lord Hargrave nodded. “Understandably so. If you’d like to take some time to compose yourself, my lady, we can begin by speaking with the butler.” He flipped his journal open and consulted the first page where a short list of names, some of them underlined, were visible. “Mr. Tommens.”

  Amelia’s head tilted. “Do I not seem composed?”

  Hargrave’s green eyes twinkled. “You do indeed, my lady. Remarkably so, given the circumstances. Still, I should like to begin the investigation with Mr. Tommens. Would you mind remaining in Mr. Kent’s company until your aunt arrives?”

  Would she mind?

  It was exactly what she’d been hoping for.

  “I am happy to answer any questions Mr. Kent might ask.” She glanced once more at Tobias but this time he was staring at the wall, the tiny muscle pulsing in his jaw the only indication he’d heard what Lord Hargrave had said.

  “Very well.” Hargrave bowed out, leaving Amelia and Tobias in the drawing room. Alone. Neither one acknowledging the other. The only sound their shallow breathing and the rustle of Amelia’s wrapper as she crossed her legs, draping one long thigh over her knee while her bare foot – there’d been no time for shoes in her mad dash to escape – bobbed in quick rhythm with her racing pulse.

  Look at me, she demanded silently. And then, to her surprise, Tobias did…and the searing heat in his eyes caused her delicate ankle to freeze mid-bob.

  “Lady Amelia,” he said roughly.

  “Tobias,” she dared, wanting to see his reaction. To her disappointment he failed to give one, whatever emotions he might be feeling concealed behind a hard wall of stone. One she couldn’t help but wonder if she would ever be able to scale.

  “Lady Amelia,” he repeated.

  “You look uncomfortable. Why don’t you sit?” She nodded at the chair her mother had recently vacated, the one right next to her own. After staring at it for a split-second Tobias deliberately moved across the room to the furthest possible sofa and sat on the edge of it, his muscles coiled as if ready to flee at a moment’s notice. Amelia bit back a sigh.

  Was this always how it was going to be between the two of them? Secret glances. Stolen kisses. The air heavy with unfulfilled passion and the promise of something more if only they had the courage to seek it out.

  “Tell me what happened,” he said, his tone detached and impersonal, as if she were just another client and this were just another investigation. One to be checked off the list once it was solved and never thought of again.

  Amelia’s chin lifted a notch as her eyes narrowed. She may have been just another client, and this may very well have been just another investigation, but she’d be damned if Tobias ever forgot her.

  He could run from her.

  He could pretend he didn’t want her.

  But he would think of her.

  Yesterday, today, and every day in the future.

  She’d make certain of it.

  “What are ye doing?” Tobias said warily when she stood up and prowled towards him, her toes sinking silently into the thick Axminster carpet.

  “The sun will be up soon.” Loosening the ties of her wrapper until it fell open to reveal the thin white nightdress she wore beneath, she perched on the armrest of the sofa, the side of her hip resting against his forearm. “I find the view to be much better from this angle. Don’t you?”

  But Tobias wasn’t looking out the window. Instead his gaze was pinned to the flecks of blood staining the front of her nightdress. Beneath his golden tan his skin paled to a sickly white shade she’d never seen before. Gathering a handful of the fabric in his fist, he rubbed furiously at a crimson spot with his thumb as if he could force the stain out by sheer will.

  Concerned by the panic she saw in the rigid lines of his countenance, Amelia laid her hand atop of his and squeezed until he stopped what he was doing and looked up at her.

  “It’s all right,” she said gently. “The blood will come out. Or it won’t. Either way, I can replace the nightdress.”

  “Aye, you can replace a nightdress,” he acknowledged with a stiff nod. “But ye can’t replace yourself. I can’t replace ye.” His jaw clenched. “You could have been killed, Amelia.”

  It was the first time he’d said her name without her title preceding it. Another shiver rippled down her spine, but this one had nothing to do with fright and everything to do with temptation.

  Dark, addictive, dangerous temptation.

  “You’re right,” she whispered. “I could have been. Which is why there’s no better time than the present.”

  “No better time for what?” Tobias’ eyes darkened as she slowly lifted her leg up and balanced her heel on the armrest of the sofa, scandalously exposing her silky ivory calf for his viewing pleasure.

  “To do whatever we want.” Rolling her shoulders, she shrugged out of her wrapper. It slithered down her back and pooled on the floor in a pile of pale green muslin. In the flickering candlelight her sheer nightdress was all but see-through and as Tobias’ hungry gaze devoured her inch by inch an unexpected surge of empowerment swept through Amelia.

  She had never attempted to seduce a man before, but now she could see why courtesans and mistresses seemed to enjoy their particular line of work despite the shameful connotation that came with selling their bodies for coin.

  There was something thrillingly forbidden about watching a man’s pupils dilate with desire and knowing you were the cause. Something deliciously compelling about seeing how much influence you could exert with just a whisper of seduction. A flash of skin. A sultry glance over a bare shoulder.

  Reaching behind her neck she unbuttoned her nightdress with a nimble flick of her fingers and watched, mouth curving in a catlike smile, as Tobias’ jaw all but fell to the floor when her nightdress fell to her waist.

  “Now,” she murmured, running her fingertip alone the length of her collarbone. “What were those questions you wanted to ask me?”

  A muscle throbbed in his neck as he gritted his teeth together. A quick glance between his thighs revealed it wasn’t the only part of his body that was throbbing, and her smile deepened.

  Naughty, naughty Amelia, she scolded herself.

  Except she didn’t feel naughty.

  She felt liberated.

  This was who she was meant to be. Who she wanted to be. A seductive temptress poised on the arm of her lover’s chair, not a perfectly poised doll standing behind a duke. She wasn’t a daisy or a rose, but a flower all of her own making. And she wanted heat. She wanted flame. She wanted fire.

  The sort of fire she only felt when she was wrapped in Tobias’ strong arms.

  “I told ye before,” he said snarled, his brogue as thick as she she’d ever heard it. “We canna do this. At least not until I tell ye–”

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” she whispered, cutting him off as she lowered her head until her lips were level with his ear. “We can do anything we please.” She traced the hard shell with her tongue, just as he’d done to her not so very long ago. The very day they’d met, in fact, when she’d gotten her first taste of true passion.

  And had been left craving more ever since.

  “Tá tú meilte orm,” he growled in Gaelic, the first she’d heard him speak the ancient Irish language. Though she knew not what he had said, the words struck a chord deep inside of her. One that resonated in her very soul, as if he’d reached within her and taken her heart in the palm of his hand.

  “Tá tú meilte orm,” she repeated softly. “What does that mean?”

  He lifted dark, dark eyes. “You ruin me.”

  Amelia inhaled sharply. “Tobias, I–”

  “What’s this I hear about my favorite niece almost being murdered?” Charging into the drawing room with all the subtlety of an elephant, Aunt Constance stopped short at the sight that greeted her. “Dea
r me,” she said, blinking several times before throwing her hand up in front of her face to block the view of her niece’s naked back. “We’ll just close this, won’t we?” And without another word she stepped out of the room and shut the door behind her.

  No sooner had the lock tumbled into place than Tobias grabbed Amelia by the waist and dragged her on top of him. He swallowed her squeal of breathless surprise, tongue sliding between her lips to plunder her mouth in a passionate kiss that had her melting into him like a warm crock of butter on a hot summer’s day.

  Shoving up her nightdress until the fabric was digging into her thighs, he cupped her bottom and hitched her up against his arousal until she could feel the entire hard, hot length of him pulsing against her core with nothing but his trousers and her silk drawers separating their two bodies.

  Feverish with lust and the lingering effects of adrenaline, she pulled up his shirt and snaked her hands up his naked torso. His skin was burning beneath her fingertips, his heart a rioting drum threatening to burst right out of his chest. Her head fell back when he nipped her neck before making his way down to her breasts. Lifting a heavy globe in the palm of his hand he brought her nipple to his mouth, suckling with teeth and tongue until she was squirming on his lap, already half mad with desire.

  With a savage growl he moved to her other breast, obsidian gaze gleaming with approval when he found her nipple already hard and yearning for his touch.

  Amelia whimpered when his mouth moved lower, and lower still, his body sliding down beneath hers until he was nearly on the floor and she was straddling his face. Just when she was about to ask what the devil he was about he kissed her there, in her most secret place, and her vision blurred before she pinched her eyes shut and braced her arms on the back of the sofa, nails digging into the wood as Tobias did things to her she’d never even dreamed possible.

  Waves crashed within her, thrusting her higher and higher towards a magnificent crescendo with every lick, every nibble, every kiss. She curled her hand into a fist and bit down on her knuckles to muffle the sound of her scream as his tongue drove her up and over the crest of the highest wave into wild, wicked oblivion.