Masked Desires (Unmasking Prometheus, #3)

by Bold, Diana

  “Why not?” he asked softly. “I trusted you with mine.”

  She scoffed and placed a cup of tea on the table in front of him. “By all accounts, you weren’t in your right mind then. It was Adrian who trusted me.”

  “Doesn’t the fact that he’s my brother give you any faith in me?”

  She shrugged and brought another cup of tea over to Ginny. Holding it to the girl’s mouth, she coaxed her to drink. At first, the little girl tried to shrug away, but once she’d had a few sips, she actually took the cup in her hands, staring at them over the rim, her large brown eyes haunted.

  “You’re safe now, Ginny,” Fiona told her, repeating what she’d told her over and over in the hack. “I’m going to take care of you. You’re going to be all right.”

  Ginny darted a glance to Morgan, obviously terrified. Though Morgan had done nothing to deserve that look, Fiona was certain that the girl wouldn’t open up to her as long as he was here.

  “I’ll make him go away,” she whispered softly to the girl. “Just stay here and drink your tea, and I’ll be back in a minute. Then we’ll go upstairs, and I’ll show you to your nice comfy bed. Would you like that?”

  Ginny nodded once, her eyes still wide with fear and confusion.

  Fiona stood and gestured for Morgan to grab his tea and take it into the parlor. “Let me get Ginny settled, and then, if you still want to talk, we’ll talk. Is that all right with you?”

  “Of course,” he murmured, obviously coming to the same conclusion about Ginny’s fear. “The last thing I want is to make things worse.”

  She watched him leave the room, realizing that she did believe him about that, at least. She could tell he honestly wanted to help; she just feared he’d soon grow bored of his charity work and return to his comfortable existence in Mayfair or wherever he lived. She was sure it was a world away from the sort of ugliness she dealt with every day.

  Sighing, she turned her full attention on Ginny. “Right then, darling, let’s get you sorted, shall we?”

  MORGAN PACED BROOKHAVEN’S parlor, waiting impatiently for Fiona to return. He’d hated the fear in Ginny’s eyes when she looked at him, but as he thought about everything that had happened tonight, he couldn’t say that he blamed her in the least.

  His skin still crawled every time he thought about the auction, the eminently “respectable” men who’d surrounded him, all intent upon the rape of children. They’d easily accepted him into their midst, and that bothered him perhaps most of all. He wasn’t like them. He wanted nothing more than to destroy them.

  Until tonight, he’d never understood why Adrian had risked his life prowling the seedy parts of the city as Prometheus. Though he’d denied it, both to himself and Adrian, Morgan had been so angry when Prometheus’s actions had led to Anne’s death. Perhaps that had been the thing that had kept him mired in his grief for so long.

  Now he understood why Adrian had risked so much. More than that, he wanted to be a part of it. He wanted to take up the crusade his brothers had begun. Perhaps he needed to, so that Anne’s death wouldn’t be in vain. Every child saved would make him feel a tiny bit less fractured.

  Wracking his brain, he tried to figure out who could be masquerading as Prometheus. Who knew enough about Adrian’s actions to take the children here? Did Brookhaven and Fiona simply have a good reputation, and it was a coincidence? He would have to try and find the hack driver who’d dropped Prometheus and the child off here and see what he knew. Though he had no idea if they kept any sort of records of their fares, he’d recognized the company emblem on the side. It was a place to start, anyway.

  The only other person he could think of, besides his brothers and their wives who had the slightest inkling of Adrian’s involvement, was Inspector Quinn O’Brien. Could he be behind all of this? It made some sense, he supposed. Given his job, O’Brien would like the anonymity, but he probably saw more ugliness on a daily basis than Morgan could even dream of, even after tonight.

  Making up his mind to have a conversation with the man, he forced himself to take a seat as he waited for Fiona’s return. She obviously knew the identity of the new Prometheus. It annoyed him that she’d so far refused to tell him, but he supposed that she had no reason to trust him.

  They barely knew each other, though he found himself wishing he could change that. She intrigued him, and he sensed that she might understand his darkness. He needed a friend like her.

  Finally, when he was just beginning to nod off with his head against the back of the sofa, Fiona entered the room, looking just as exhausted as he was.

  “Is she all right?” he asked quietly.

  To his surprise, she sat right next to him on the sofa in front of the fireplace, where a merry fire still burned in the grate.

  “As well as can be expected,” she said quietly. “I’m sure it’s scary for her, being in a new place. She’s still not quite sure if she can trust me.”

  “Give her a little time,” he encouraged. “I’m sure once she’s able to interact with the other children, she’ll see that they trust you, and she’ll find it easier to do so, too.”

  She sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. “I certainly hope so. At least we got to her in time. She hadn’t been raped. But I don’t know what happened to her parents. I don’t know what else she’s been through.”

  He had the sudden urge to give her comfort, to somehow take some of the stress and tension away. He’d been a bit hesitant in the kitchen, but she’d accepted his touch much better than he’d expected.

  “Mrs. Bohannan—”

  “Please,” she interrupted with a laugh. “Call me Fiona. I’ve never actually been married, you know. I only use the ‘Mrs.’ because I feel like it makes me more of an authority figure to the children and gives me a hint of respectability when the wealthy benefactors come to call.”

  “Fiona.” He brushed her hand away from her nape and gently placed his own fingertips upon her shoulders. “You seem to be carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. May I ease that burden for just a moment?”

  She tensed, obviously wary, but she did not move away. “What do you mean?”

  He flexed his hands, carefully kneading the tense muscles at her nape and shoulders.

  A soft moan escaped her, and the breathy sensual sound went straight to his groin, surprising him with its intensity. He had only the best of intentions, but it had been so long since he’d been intimate with a woman in any way, and his attraction toward this woman grew more powerful with each encounter.

  “That feels...” She gave a small, helpless laugh. “No one has ever touched me this way... with the only intention to comfort.”

  Her words made him doubly guilty about the direction his thoughts were taking, and he ruthlessly willed them into submission, a skill he’d mastered over the many years of his marriage. He instead focused on comforting her, doing what he could to make her night a little better. All of the questions he’d had for her about the identity of Prometheus drifted away. He could ask her another time. For now, he just wanted to see her get some rest.

  “I would never hurt you,” he whispered as his hands gently massaged her shoulders. “You do so much for these children, Fiona. I only want to give you a little comfort and care in return.”

  She held his gaze, a multitude of emotions shifting in those bottomless green eyes, then she bit her lip and nodded. “Thank you, Morgan. I’m just so tired.” With a sigh, she leaned against him, letting her head rest against his shoulder. “It seems like I’m tired all the time. Tired to my very soul.”

  He stared at the fragile shell of her ear, very aware of how vulnerable she’d made herself to him. “You do too much,” he chided softly. “You need more sleep.”

  She shook her head. “Adrian says that all the time, but there’s just so much to do.”

  “You don’t have to do it all yourself, though. You could delegate a few more things to Cook, or one of the maids or teachers.”

  She g
ave a small, choking laugh. “I suppose I just don’t trust anyone enough to believe that they’ll do what is needed.”

  “I hope someday you’ll find someone you can trust to help you.” He wished he could be that person for her. Brushing a few silky-soft strands of her hair away from the nape of her neck, he settled his hand against her bare skin, his pulse leaping once again. She made another soft sound as he began to move his thumb in slow circles, working the stiff muscles until she grew pliant and utterly relaxed.

  When she began to softly snore, he smiled and let his hand pause, resting it lightly between her shoulder blades. He knew he should get up, go home, and try and get what rest he could, but he felt utterly at peace for the first time in ages. The room was warm and the sofa very comfortable. And the last thing he wanted to do was to wake Fiona by trying to move away from her.

  His children were safe at home with their nanny, and there was no reason he shouldn’t simply stay exactly where he was.

  Grabbing a blanket off the back of the sofa, he tucked it carefully around Fiona, leaving one small corner for himself, and placed another throw pillow behind his head.

  With a contented sigh, he drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter Seven

  Fiona woke slowly, basking in a strange warmth and contentment. The distant sound of pots clanging in the kitchen told her it was time to get up, but she resisted, knowing that once she opened her eyes, she’d lose whatever peace the night before had brought.

  “Fiona,” a deep male voice rumbled disturbingly close to her ear. “Wake up, darling.”

  Darling?

  Her eyes flew open, and she found that she still rested against Morgan’s shoulder, his arm wrapped loosely around her. He’d covered her with a blanket, and the cold hearth told her that hours had passed.

  “There’s someone in the kitchen, and I wasn’t certain if you’d want to be found in here with me,” he said quietly.

  “You stayed all night?” she whispered, her voice rough.

  He nodded. “I hope you don’t mind. I was too tired to even think about trying to make it home.”

  She flushed, thinking of the way he’d touched her last night. She’d never been so relaxed in all her life, never felt so cherished and taken care of, which was ridiculous, because she knew he didn’t care for her at all.

  He called me darling...

  She shook her head at her own silliness and pushed away, putting some distance between them. “I don’t mind,” she assured him. “But thank you for waking me. You’re right. It wouldn’t look good if we were found together, even though nothing happened.”

  But in her heart, she felt as though something had happened. Something so deeply meaningful that she wasn’t quite sure how to express it even to herself.

  He scrubbed a hand over his face, drawing attention to the beard stubble that had grown in during the night. That seemed incredibly intimate, more so than anything she’d ever experienced. Almost as though they were a married couple...

  “Thank you,” she said awkwardly. “For everything you did last night. I was very badly in need of a friend.” The moment she said the word, she regretted it. How presumptuous of her, to call herself his friend. He was of the nobility, and she was nothing.

  “I was very badly in need of a friend as well,” he said, surprising her. Then he leaned forward and tenderly pressed his lips to her forehead. The warmth and tenderness of his kiss seared into her, making her realize with a sense of complete consternation that perhaps a man could be kind and gentle. For so long, she’d thought she would never find someone like him. In fact, she’d been so certain of it, she’d never even looked.

  Before she could react, he pulled away and got to his feet. “I should be going. I need to clean up, and I like to be there when my children wake up. But I’ll be back later, to continue working on the murals.”

  “Yes,” she mumbled. “Thank you. I’ll see you soon then.”

  “Goodbye, Fiona.” He smiled and left the room, leaving her with her fingertips pressed to her forehead as though she could hold the warmth of his kiss there forever.

  “TELL ME EVERYTHING you know about Fiona Bohannan,” Morgan said without preamble, once he was shown into Adrian’s study later that morning.

  His brother glanced up from the notebook he’d been scribbling in, a wary look in his eyes. “Why?”

  Morgan collapsed into the chair in front of his brother’s desk, both exhausted and oddly exhilarated by the strange events of the night before. “Because I’ve been spending a lot of time with her, and I’m curious.”

  Adrian frowned, obviously unconvinced. “Then why don’t you ask her? I don’t feel like her secrets are mine to tell.”

  “So, she does have secrets,” Morgan said quietly. Perhaps he truly didn’t want to know everything that had happened to her, what had given her such passion for Brookhaven and the children.

  Adrian sighed. “As I said, they’re not mine to tell.”

  Morgan held his brother’s knowing gaze for a few moments then looked away. “I’d like to think we’re becoming friends.”

  “Friends?” his brother said doubtfully. “She’s been my friend for years, and I’ve never thought about her the way I’m pretty sure you do.”

  “What do you know about it?” Morgan snapped, shocked as always by how clearly Adrian could read him. He forced himself to calm down. “I just want to help her with the orphanage. Coax her to tell me who the new Prometheus is.” But even as he said it, he knew it was a lie. He’d been thinking of her exactly the way Adrian had inferred, even though it seemed incredibly wrong to do so.

  “She’s very beautiful. Very sensual,” Adrian observed. “But she’s like no woman you’ve ever been interested in before. She’s far beneath you in station, and I’d really hate for you to think of her as someone you can take advantage of without consequences.”

  Morgan glared at him. “I don’t deserve that. I’ve never been one to take advantage of women, and you know it.”

  Adrian pushed back from his desk and gave Morgan his full attention. “I’m sorry. You’re right. That was uncalled for. I just feel incredibly protective over Fiona. She’s like a sister to me, more of a sister than Allison has ever been.”

  Their half-sister Allison, whose father had been the Earl of Winters, was much younger than her three half-brothers. She was spoiled and petulant, and none of them had ever felt much of a connection with her. Last year, she’d been kidnapped by the current Earl of Winters and taken to the Continent as a hostage to keep them at bay. Luke’s search for her had led to him finding his first love and the child that had been stolen from them. Allison was home now, and she’d finally realized her half-brother Roger was not someone she should look up to, but her brothers’ affection for her had not grown.

  But no matter how they felt about Allison, Morgan knew he could never think of Fiona in the sisterly manner that Adrian did.

  “I just want to help her,” Morgan admitted. “I went to one of those horrible auctions last night. They were bidding on the virginity of an eight-year-old. The new Prometheus managed to make off with her and brought her to Fiona. She wouldn’t let me talk to the child, which I understand, and she refuses to give up the name of the impersonator.” He scrubbed his hand over his face, realizing how much things had changed for him. “But none of that matters. I never knew why you risked so much to help, but now, I do.”

  Adrian gave him a sympathetic look. “Are you sure you want to go down this road? Once you see all the ugliness, it’s really hard to walk away. And I’ve finally realized that I can’t save them all. I have to focus on my own family.”

  Morgan sighed. “I know. But I’ve been needing something to care about. Something to take my mind off Anne.”

  “I just don’t want to see Fiona hurt,” Adrian reiterated.

  “I don’t either,” Morgan said forcefully. “Please believe that I’ll do everything I can to help her, to take some of the load of Brookhaven off you both.�
��

  Adrian shook his head. “I won’t tell you about her past. To tell you the truth, I really don’t know much about what happened before we met. I didn’t ask. I just assumed if she ever wanted to talk about it, she would. However, I can tell you that Brookhaven couldn’t function without her. All I really do is write checks. She’s been in charge of budgeting, hiring, paying all the bills.” He waved a hand. “She’s done it all since she was little more than a child herself.”

  “Can you at least tell me how you met her?” Morgan asked.

  Adrian shook his head, a troubled look on his face. “No, I don’t think that I can. Not without giving too much away. If she’s truly your friend, then you’ll have to get her to tell you herself.”

  Morgan frowned, realizing that the answer that made the most sense was that Adrian had rescued her, the way he’d rescued so many others. But he didn’t really want to believe that and decided to change tactics. “I’ve been very impressed by both her management skills and the way she interacts with the children. It’s even more impressive when you consider she was never trained in these things.”

  A rare smile curved Adrian’s lips. “I’m glad you see that. And since you realize how important she is to the entire operation, I’m trusting you not to do anything to ruin it.”

  “That’s the last thing I want.” He drummed his fingers on his chair arm, finally giving voice to the question that had been haunting him. “Can you at least tell me if she’s involved with anyone romantically? If so, could that be Prometheus? Is that why she’s protecting him?”

  Adrian shook his head. “I can’t say for sure. I’ve never meddled in her personal life. But she spends so much time at Brookhaven, I can’t imagine that she’d have time for a romantic relationship.”

  Morgan leaned back in his chair, knowing he’d gotten everything he was going to out of his brother, who was tight-lipped under the best of circumstances. The mere fact that Adrian was so protective of Fiona spoke very highly of her. He’d have to be content with that and hope that eventually, he’d get the answers he needed from Fiona herself.