Masked Desires (Unmasking Prometheus, #3)

by Bold, Diana

  Most of all, he just wanted her to always feel safe, to know that he would always take care of her and that she didn’t have to work so hard.

  With a sigh, he gave her temple one more lingering kiss, then carefully eased himself out of the bed. He dressed in the cold darkness, tucked the thin blanket around her as tightly as he could without waking her, and then tiptoed out of the room.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The next morning, Fiona woke and stretched lazily, staring up into the rafters above her head, her mind spinning with all that had happened. She still couldn’t quite believe that Morgan actually wanted to court her. That he’d kissed her and held her so tenderly. That he’d wanted her to have dinner with his family.

  They’d made love...

  It all still seemed surreal, like a dream. And she didn’t want to move, because if she did, she was afraid she’d wake up.

  For a few moments more, she let herself drift in the fantasy, but then, she shook her head and pushed herself to a sitting position.

  It felt like a dream because it was. She couldn’t let herself forget that Morgan would never want her if he knew the truth about her past. She’d told him she wasn’t a virgin, but he probably thought she’d had just one youthful indiscretion. He couldn’t possibly imagine how used she was, how ruined and broken.

  With a sigh, she began to get dressed for the day, staring longingly at the beautiful dress that still lay over the chair where she’d draped it last night.

  Last night had been a beautiful dream, and she’d been foolish enough to let herself get lost in it. But she couldn’t go through with this. If Morgan came today, she’d have to tell him the truth, no matter how much it hurt to do so.

  He thought she was someone he could love, someone he could marry. But the mere fact that she’d given herself to him last night showed the kind of woman she was. He probably had no respect for her this morning.

  The mere thought of watching the admiration in his eyes fade and be replaced with disgust—or even worse, pity—nearly overwhelmed her. But somehow, she managed to push through the pain, as she had so many times in her life.

  What she needed to do was plan another trip as Prometheus. She’d let herself become completely sidetracked by Morgan over the last few weeks. And because of her selfishness, children were out there suffering terribly. She could have saved several during the time she’d been mooning over Morgan.

  Lifting her chin, she resolved that today she would accomplish both goals. She’d tell Morgan the truth about herself, and she’d also save another child.

  MORGAN STOOD BACK, hands on hips as he surveyed his latest mural. The boys in this room had requested Camelot. On one wall, he’d painted the castle, banners billowing in the breeze. Another wall displayed the Sword in the Stone. Yet another, the Lady of the Lake. Tomorrow, he’d finish up with the Round Table.

  He stretched his neck, utter peace filling him. Having been born into a wealthy titled family was both a blessing and a curse. He did not have to work for a living. The earldom saw to all his needs, providing him with a yearly income that was more than adequate. Many of his peers wasted their days gaming, whoring, and indulging in all manner of vices. He’d come to believe that too much free time, having no purpose, was not all that the lower classes probably thought it was. All his life, he’d been searching for... something. And for the first time, he felt like he’d found it. Brookhaven filled his soul on so many levels.

  And Fiona filled the rest of the emptiness inside him.

  Last night had been everything he’d dreamed it could be, and he couldn’t wait to see her again.

  He smiled and finished putting away his supplies, glancing at his timepiece to make sure he hadn’t stayed working too late again. It was just about suppertime, and his children would be with the others in the dining room. He was hungry himself, but he’d rather steal a few minutes alone with Fiona.

  With a jaunty step, he made his way down the stairs to her office, finding her bent over a stack of ledgers, as always. He stood in the doorway for a moment, admiring her. She truly was lovely, in every sense of the word. He admired her dedication to the children immensely, and even now, with her wild hair slightly askew and her face smudged with ink, he found her beautiful beyond compare.

  She finally glanced up, but instead of the pleasure he’d expected to find, wariness haunted her wide green eyes as she took off her reading glasses and set them aside.

  “What is it?” he asked immediately, stepping farther into the office and shutting the door. “What’s wrong?”

  Pushing back from her desk, she ran her hand over her face with a sigh. “I’m glad you came in here. I’ve been meaning to find you all day.”

  He walked over and got between her and the desk, leaning on the edge and staring down at her, a sense of foreboding filling him. “Have you changed your mind?” he asked softly, feeling as though he already knew the answer.

  She said nothing, nervously shifting a few of the piles of paperwork around.

  “I want you to be my wife,” he murmured at last. “But I don’t want to hurt you or push you into anything you’re not ready for. You can take all the time you need.”

  “Thank you,” she said, blinking away a fresh sheen of tears.

  “Shall we go and join the children for dinner?” He pulled slightly back and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, filled with disappointment. He’d thought that they’d solved everything last night, but now, he could see that they hadn’t. Would he ever be able to prove to her that her past didn’t matter?

  FIONA NODDED, DASHING away her tears and finally letting him go. She’d tried so hard to find the courage to tell him the truth, but in the end, she couldn’t do it. She appreciated the reprieve he was giving her, the chance to gather her wits and think over everything that had happened.

  Still holding her hand, he led her through the house toward the dining room, only releasing her when they entered the huge room, which was filled with children and laughter. The look of sweetness and concern he gave her melted away the last of her fears. He was so good, so beautiful and kind. How could she not love him?

  His children clamored for his attention, and he went over to say hello to them while she forced herself to once again become the headmistress of the home, taking her place at the head of the table as the children peppered her with questions and the cook served her a heaping plateful of food.

  Morgan took a chair at the foot of the table, and she gave him a sudden bright smile. If she never told him the truth, this could work. All she had to do was lie about her entire past, and she might just get everything she ever wanted.

  As quickly as the thought came, she knew how ridiculous she was being. Adrian knew the truth, and despite the deep friendship between them, Morgan was Adrian’s twin. Adrian might care for her, but he’d never allow his brother to marry her without telling him where he’d found her.

  No, there was no way she could do that to Morgan. She could never allow him to hear about what she had been from his brother.

  As the meal progressed, she found her gaze drawn to him and his children repeatedly, her heart breaking. She didn’t know what to do. Telling Morgan about her past would surely ruin things but keeping her secret would as well.

  The only solution seemed to be to break things off with him now, before it got any harder. At least then, she would be in control of it. At least then, she wouldn’t have to watch the love and desire in his eyes turn to disgust.

  Mind made up, she waited until after dinner and then asked to speak to him alone again.

  He raised an eyebrow, seeming to sense her change in mood. “Of course,” he said softly as he followed her back down the hall to her office.

  She waited until they were safe in the office and the door had been shut behind them before turning to face him. “I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

  “What?” He looked as if she’d slapped him, and she felt a moment of doubt. How could she justify hu
rting him to save her own heart? She wanted to go to him, to take him in her arms and tell him she didn’t mean it but knew doing so would just postpone the heartache for both of them. No, she had to do this. She had to be strong.

  “I’ve thought about it all day, and I just don’t think that this is what I want. You’re very kind to have considered me in that way, and I do thank you, but in the end, I feel my priority has to be Brookhaven. I don’t want to leave here to go live in some Mayfair mansion. I like my little room in the attic. I love the work I do here, and I could never be what you need.”

  “I understand your love for Brookhaven,” he said, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I’d never make you leave it. But wouldn’t you be just as effective if you slept in a comfortable bed every night? If you had a little time to yourself?”

  He was probably right, but she couldn’t let him sway her because this wasn’t really about Brookhaven at all.

  “Please don’t make this any harder than it has to be,” she said softly. “You know I care about you, but this can’t work.”

  He stared at her for a long moment, his thoughts visibly churning as he tried to think of some way to dissuade her. But in the end, he simply nodded. “I’ll go, Fiona. Because you asked me to. But I want you to know that if you ever change your mind, all you have to do is send word. I love you, Fiona. I’m certain I always will.”

  Leaning forward, he pressed a tender kiss on her forehead. Then he turned and walked away without another word.

  She stared after him, her heart in her throat, still stunned by his declaration of love. Everything in her longed to call him back, to tell him how stupid she’d been, and confess every single sordid detail of her past. Didn’t he have the right to make up his own mind?

  But in the end, all she did was sit down and sob until she had no tears left to cry.

  Chapter Fifteen

  As Fiona stole through the dark streets of the East End a few hours later, she struggled to keep her emotions at bay. Even though she knew that she and Morgan could never truly have a relationship, she missed him already. Perhaps she should not have been so hasty in breaking things off with him. Would it have hurt any more if she’d allowed herself a little more of the magic he’d brought into her life?

  Everything had seemed so clear earlier, but now she wasn’t certain she’d done the right thing. Was it better to ensure heartbreak now to avoid the possibility of it in the future? The whole idea suddenly seemed ridiculous.

  He would never purposely hurt her. Of that, she was certain. Unfortunately, she was equally sure that someday, he would.

  She scrubbed a hand over her face, shaking her head in despair. Perhaps there was some way to undo it.

  Her thoughts were interrupted when a group of young men spilled out of the building in front of her. Aristocrats, by the look of their dapper clothes. She melted into the shadows, her heart pounding in her chest.

  She’d not yet donned Prometheus’s cloak and mask, but she was wearing a black shirt and trousers and had stuffed her bright hair under a hat. At a distance, she might not raise any eyebrows, but up close, she wouldn’t fool anyone into thinking she was a man. She was too slight, too pale.

  Luckily, they passed by without seeing her, but she was able to hear their conversation, and it turned her blood to ice.

  “The younger they are, the sweeter the experience,” one of them said with a laugh.

  “And they don’t get any younger than the ones at Mrs. Smythe’s,” said another, the liquor on his breath hitting her even where she stood several yards away.

  “My sweet little blonde cried so prettily when I took her,” the first man said dreamily, his voice slurred. “A night to remember, for certain.”

  As they drifted toward a fancy coach that waited down the lane, still congratulating each other on their sick perversions, Fiona turned her attention to the house they’d just exited. She could only assume this was Mrs. Smythe’s, and it hadn’t been operating as a brothel just a few short weeks ago.

  When she’d left Brookhaven this evening, she’d had a particular target in mind. She’d done her research and had a plan. But now, her attention was fixated on Mrs. Smythe’s. If she could shut it down now, while it was still relatively new, she could save countless children from lives of slavery and degradation.

  Something good had to come out of this night.

  A rational part of her brain told her it was dangerous in the extreme to try and enter this place without any sort of reconnaissance, but some reckless part of her didn’t care. Adrian probably wouldn’t have thought twice about entering the brothel without a plan. He would have relied on his strength and his wits to carry him through, and perhaps it was time that she started acting like she truly was Prometheus.

  Waiting until the coach drove away, she squared her shoulders and turned to the alley that ran behind Mrs. Smythe’s. She’d circle the place and find a back entrance. Generally, that would take her into the service areas, and she could only pray that there would be no one around at this time of night, though perhaps this was the busiest time for a brothel.

  Deciding to chance it, she put on the mask and cape and crept around the back of the building until she found the door. She stood on the back porch steps for quite some time, with her ear pressed to the door, before she finally mustered the courage to open it.

  Once inside, she found herself in a storage area filled with all manner of crates and barrels. She moved slowly through, ready to duck behind something at the slightest sound, only to find herself at the servants’ stairs.

  Experience had taught her that the girls would probably be on the third floor, so she took the stairs two at a time, sprinting up them in a matter of minutes. Once she’d reached the third floor, she heard the tell-tale sounds of sexual activity and crying coming from behind nearly a dozen closed doors. Elated that she’d gotten this far undetected, she ran down to the one open door, which seemed to be a supply closet.

  Ducking inside, she pulled the door closed, leaving just a small crack so that she could see out into the hall.

  She sagged against the wall, adrenalin coursing through her veins. Though being Prometheus was terrifying, she found it exhilarating as well.

  However, as the minutes crept on, she realized she had no idea what to do next. Just as she was beginning to curse herself for not having more of a plan, a door a few down to her left opened, and another drunk young man stumbled out into the hallway. “G’night,” he called in a singsong voice to whoever still occupied the room. “I’ll see you again soon, sweetling.”

  He whistled a little tune as he walked by, but as soon as she’d seen him head down the stairs, Fiona slipped out of the closet and raced down to the room he’d just vacated, closing the door behind her.

  Inside, she found a very young girl, perhaps fourteen or fifteen, calmly wringing out a cloth at a basin in front of the mirror, pressing it to her split lip. She was completely naked, her pale slim body covered in welts and bruises.

  As Fiona came up behind the girl, their gazes met in the mirror and the girl spun around. “Prometheus?” she breathed.

  Fiona nodded. “Yes,” she murmured, doing her best to deepen her voice. “I’m here to help you escape.”

  For a moment, the girl’s eyes lit with fierce hope and joy, but then, that light went out of her, snuffed like a candle, and she opened her mouth and screamed at the top of her lungs.

  Fiona was so startled that for a moment she was frozen. “You don’t understand,” she whispered fiercely. “I’m a friend. I’m here to help you.”

  The girl just continued to scream.

  Whirling toward the door, Fiona threw it open, only to see two burly men rushing toward her down the hall. She spun and shut the door again, dashing toward the window.

  Sliding up the window, she stared at the dizzying drop below. She’d hoped to find some sort of ledge that would allow her to make her escape along the rooftops, but while she was leaning desperately
forward, struggling to see some way out that did not involve jumping to her death, someone tugged her viciously back into the room from behind.

  She kicked and fought, but the man subdued her easily with his superior strength. “It’s a woman,” he said in shock, as she elbowed him in the stomach. “Prometheus is a woman.”

  The other man ripped off her mask, and they both laughed uproariously when her long auburn hair spilled down her back.

  “Pretty little thing,” the first man said. “Winters will be pleasantly surprised, I think.”

  Still fighting them, Fiona’s gaze caught the girl’s, whose eyes flooded with tears.

  “They told me you might come,” she said mournfully. “They said if I didn’t scream and let them know, they’d kill me.”

  “I could have helped you,” Fiona shouted, as they forced her out of the door. “I could have gotten you away from here.”

  ROGER WAS IN HIS OFFICE at Mrs. Smythe’s brothel, the first he’d opened since he’d returned to England, when two of the toughs he’d hired burst through the door without knocking.

  He was about to yell at them for interrupting him, when his gaze fell upon the struggling auburn-haired beauty they’d brought him.

  “Who is this?” Roger asked sharply, taking in her rumpled loveliness and snapping green eyes. His gaze narrowed as he recognized her. “Who are you? I’ve seen you before, at Adrian Strathmore’s wedding.”

  She said nothing, tension vibrating from every cell in her body, and he suddenly realized she was wearing trousers and a crimson cape.

  One of his hired men cleared his throat. “I believe she’s Prometheus, my lord.” He held up the distinctive mask. “We found her upstairs trying to steal one of the girls away, but the girl screamed as we ordered her to do.”