Masked Desires (Unmasking Prometheus, #3)

by Bold, Diana

  Morgan stopped at the foot of the stairs, his face frozen as he tried not to give away anything, but she could tell how stunned he was, how sickened he was by the news that the woman he’d wanted to court had worked in a brothel, had sold her body for money.

  “I’ve always thought Prometheus was Adrian,” Winters mused, moving behind her and wrapping his hands loosely around her neck, not squeezing yet but showing them all how easily he could do so. “But honestly, I don’t really care about that anymore. What I want to know most is, which one of you killed my father?”

  She swallowed, her gaze moving from one of the brothers to the next, having been unaware that one of them had killed the previous Earl of Winters.

  Adrian stepped forward, his scarred face flashing with fury. “It was me. I am Prometheus, and I killed your perverted abusive father.”

  “No,” Lucien said, stepping forward as well. “I did it. I had to in order to protect my brothers.”

  Morgan’s face had grown pale, a look of torment in his eyes, and she suddenly knew, without a doubt, that it had been him.

  “They’re trying to protect me.” Morgan shook his head, his brothers’ declarations giving him the confidence he’d needed. “I was the one who killed Winters. He tried to throw me from the tower, and I fought him. He went over instead.”

  The earl and Adrian shared a look, and she realized that they hadn’t known the truth until this very moment. Oh, Morgan. How you must have suffered for this!

  Winters growled behind her in frustration, his hands tightening around her throat until it was hard to breathe. “Tell me! I deserve to know!”

  “It was me,” the earl repeated.

  “It was me,” Adrian insisted.

  “No, it was me,” Morgan said with a hint of frustration.

  Fiona could no longer pay attention to what they were saying. Winters’ grip continued to tighten around her throat and everything seemed to go still, her vision going dark at the edges. In a matter of moments, he was going to choke the very life out of her. The Strathmores were still several yards away, and she didn’t think they could get to her in time. She squeezed the knife in her hand, glad that some of the feeling had returned and her fingers were able to tighten around it.

  She’d never thought she’d ever want to hurt anyone, but knowing that this was the man who’d bought her and then put her in a brothel to be used in unspeakable ways, and of all the other children who’d suffered as she had, the choice seemed suddenly clear.

  It was him or her, and she had too much to live for, too many children yet to save.

  With the last of her strength, she released the rope. Then she twisted, rose up, and stabbed the knife as deeply into the Earl of Winters’ chest as she could.

  He released her in shock, clutching at the knife, and she fell from the chair, landing on the floor in a painful heap.

  She vaguely heard Morgan shouting her name, but the shock of it all finally hit her, and her world went black.

  MORGAN RUSHED TO FIONA’S side, kneeling beside her on the dirt floor, cradling her in his arms, still stunned by her incredible strength and bravery. “Fiona,” he whispered, his lips brushing her temple. “Fiona, darling. Wake up.”

  Behind him, his brothers were grappling with Winters, who was bleeding profusely but still fighting. He knew they had things well under control. All that mattered to him at this moment was this woman whom he loved so deeply.

  After a few endless moments, she finally stirred and blinked up at him, her green eyes awash with pain and confusion. “Morgan. Are you all right?”

  He choked on a laugh and hugged her to him even more tightly. Leave it to Fiona to be most concerned about him, even after everything that had happened. “I’m fine, darling. How are you? Did he hurt you?”

  She slowly shook her head, tears filling her eyes. “Thank you so much for coming for me. I knew you would.”

  “Of course, I came,” he whispered. “I’m only sorry that it took me so long. I was worried...” He still couldn’t believe they’d gotten to her in time. In his heart, he’d been certain that he’d be too late, that he’d lose her as he’d lost Anne.

  Pulling away from him, she painfully pushed herself to her feet. He stood as well, seeing that his brothers were now standing over Winters, who lay still in a pool of his own blood.

  “Did I kill him?” she asked, her voice hollow, her eyes haunted.

  Adrian strode over to her, his face fierce. “You did. But don’t you dare feel bad about it. He would have killed you if you hadn’t. You did what you had to do.”

  She let out a choking sob and threw herself into his brother’s arms, and Morgan watched helplessly as Adrian comforted her in a way it didn’t seem that he could.

  She’d obviously heard that he’d killed his stepfather. How could she ever love him now, having learned the very worst there was to know about him? She’d probably be disgusted.

  Luke sighed and clasped him on the shoulder. “Give her a little time,” he murmured. “It’s going to take a while for her to process all of this.”

  Morgan gave his older brother a grateful look, knowing he understood his feelings all too well. He also suddenly realized that perhaps she was having just as many doubts as he, having had her secret revealed as well. Though a part of him had known that she’d probably been one of Adrian’s rescues, it still hurt him deeply to know what she’d been through, how strong she must have been to overcome such a thing.

  All he could do now was make sure that he showed her that it didn’t matter. If she could accept him and all of his demons, he could definitely accept hers. Now he just had to convince her of that.

  “Why don’t you get her out of here?” Luke continued, staring down at Winters in disgust. “I’ll get ahold of Inspector O’Brien. He’ll want to talk to her eventually, but that doesn’t have to happen tonight. She’s been through a lot. I’m sure right now she needs food, a bath, and a good night’s sleep.”

  Morgan nodded. “Yes, I’ll make sure she gets all of those things.”

  Lucien met his gaze, his own eyes sad. “I didn’t know it was you who killed Winters until very recently. I always thought it was Adrian, and he always thought it was me. I feel terrible that you dealt with that alone all these years.”

  Morgan dropped his gaze. “I didn’t mean to do it. He was threatening to throw me from the tower, and I pushed myself away from him. He lost his balance and went over the edge.”

  “You saved Adrian and me from who knows how much more abuse,” Luke said fiercely. “It was you or him. And I’m very glad that you were strong enough and smart enough to make sure it wasn’t you.”

  Luke embraced him tightly, and some of the pain and guilt ebbed away. He supposed that he couldn’t very well convince Fiona she’d done the right thing when he was still holding on to so much guilt himself.

  “Thank you,” he told his brother. “I think I really needed to hear that.”

  Nodding, Luke stepped away. He glanced over at Fiona, who was still sobbing into Adrian’s shoulder. “Don’t let her feel bad either. She’s a wonderful woman. I like her for you, brother. I like the thought of you together very much.”

  “Me, too,” Morgan said fervently. Now if only he could convince her that it was a good idea as well.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Where are we?” Fiona asked tiredly as Morgan’s coach pulled up in front of an imposing red brick townhome in an unfamiliar part of the city. They were surrounded by equally beautiful homes surrounding a lovely park.

  Morgan had convinced her to let him drive her home, and she’d been so exhausted she hadn’t had the strength to argue. Now, she wondered if she’d fallen asleep because she couldn’t remember anything since they’d left the docks and certainly didn’t know how they’d ended up here.

  “This is my house,” Morgan told her softly.

  She blinked. Of course, it was. How strange that after everything that had passed between them, she’d never been here
before. Still...

  “Why did you bring me here? I need to get back to the children.”

  He shook his head. “The children are fine. Your staff has things well in hand. And I brought you here because I wanted you to have a proper soak in a proper tub and then sleep in a comfortable bed. I want you to take a day or two for yourself, Fiona. And I didn’t think you could do that at Brookhaven.”

  She stared longingly at the house, knowing what an oasis it was bound to be compared to the controlled chaos that existed at Brookhaven. Still, she was afraid to go in, afraid to see what might have been if she was someone else, someone worthy of living in such a place.

  “Don’t argue,” he said sternly. “Just come in. Let me take care of you for a day or two.”

  She bit her lip, wondering why he was still being so sweet to her after what he’d learned. Perhaps he just felt guilty, thought that it was his fault Winters had gone after her. In any event, she found she couldn’t resist him. She couldn’t turn down a few more days in his company.

  “All right,” she said softly. “Thank you.”

  He gave her that beautiful smile of his just as a footman opened the door.

  In a matter of moments, she was out of the cold and inside. She stood in the foyer, looking around her in awe. Morgan’s home was beautiful, but it was not as grand as his brother’s. It felt far more comfortable, like a home instead of an ostentatious showplace.

  “Do you like it?” Morgan asked, handing off his cloak to the butler, who carefully did not let his eyes dwell on Fiona’s bedraggled state.

  “I love it,” she admitted, her heart aching.

  A sudden racket had her glancing upward to the grand staircase, where Samuel and Hannah were racing down to greet their father. To her very great surprise, they bypassed him completely, throwing their little arms around her legs instead and burying their faces in her skirts.

  “We were so worried about you,” Hannah cried.

  “We feared something would happen to you and we’d lose you like we lost our mother,” Samuel said, his voice cracking.

  She sank to her knees and embraced them tightly, tears stinging her eyes. “I’m here, my darlings. I’m here and I’m fine, thanks to your father and your uncles.”

  Morgan sank to his knees as well, drawing all three of them into his arms. “I’m sorry that you were worried. I should have talked to you more before I left. I was just in such a hurry to find Mrs. Bohannan.”

  Fiona allowed herself to relax into the embrace, feeling more a part of a family than she ever had in her life. She loved this man. She loved these children.

  Why had she picked a brothel owned by Winters for her latest mission as Prometheus? Things could have been so perfect if only she hadn’t been so foolish.

  Blinking away a new rush of tears, she finally extricated herself from all three of them and stood, swaying a bit on her feet.

  Morgan surged to his feet as well. “Let me get Mrs. Bohannan settled. She’s staying with us tonight,” he told the children.

  She vaguely heard their cries of happiness at the news as Morgan led her up the stairs and then down a long hallway, stopping in front of one door, then seeming to think better of it and continuing down to another.

  When she stepped inside the room, she caught her breath. The bedchamber was huge, decorated in shades of peach and gold, with a white marble fireplace and a large bed. He walked over and opened yet another door, which led to a private bathing room with a claw-footed tub and water closet.

  “I’ll run you a bath and leave you soaking,” he said, turning the knobs and sending a spray of steaming water into the tub. “Meanwhile, I’ll send a servant to freshen up the room and light a fire. I’ll also have them bring you some of Anne’s nightclothes, if that’s all right with you?”

  She nodded mutely, still in awe at the thought of hot water whenever she wanted it without the hard work of heating it on a stove and then lugging it all the way to the bath. She’d known such luxury existed but had never actually experienced it herself.

  He pressed a kiss to her forehead, then shut the door behind him.

  With a sigh, she stripped and lowered herself into the hot water, hoping it would wash away some of the ugliness of the day.

  As she drifted in the warm embrace of the tub, her thoughts began to clear, and for the first time, she began to think about the ramifications of what she’d done tonight. Although it had been self-defense, she’d killed a man. An earl, no less.

  Cold fear welled within her as thought of what this could mean. Would she be arrested? There seemed to be a very good chance that she could be. Winters had been an aristocrat, and she was... no one. An ex-prostitute.

  The Strathmores might speak on her behalf, but would the authorities even listen?

  She shuddered at the thought of prison, and for a moment, the urge to run was so strong it overwhelmed her. Maybe she should just leave London, leave Morgan and Brookhaven, go somewhere far away where her past and the horror of the present couldn’t touch her.

  But as quickly as the thought came, she abandoned it. Without her role at Brookhaven, what would she be? She’d built a life here, and she couldn’t imagine doing anything else.

  She had to pay the consequences for her actions, no matter what they might be.

  MORGAN LEANED AGAINST the washroom door, his heart pounding in his chest at the thought of Fiona naked in the tub. He had no idea what he was doing, no idea why he’d brought her here, other than the fact that he’d just needed to have her at his side. He wanted to take care of her, and he wanted her in his house.

  He’d almost put her in Anne’s old room, which adjoined his own. But at the last moment, that had seemed too much. He’d worried what the children would think, worried how she’d react to finding herself among Anne’s old things, which he’d not yet had the heart to go through and clear out.

  That moment in the foyer had rocked him to the core. It had been everything he’d wanted. But she’d seemed flustered by it, and why wouldn’t she be? Could he really expect her to mother his three children? That was a lot for any woman to take on, especially one who had the safety and care of so many others already on her plate.

  And now, she knew the worst of him, that he had committed murder. That he’d been to blame for all the terrible things that Winters had done to his family. How could she still care for him after everything she’d learned?

  With a groan, he scrubbed his hands over his face, the ugliness and terror of the day washing over him in a crippling wave.

  Sleep had never beckoned so sweetly.

  But too much still needed to be done.

  He pushed away from the door and went back downstairs, instructing the butler to send someone up to help Fiona while he put the children to bed and calmed their fears. He couldn’t help but notice the excitement in their eyes at the fact that Fiona was staying the night.

  They needed mothering so desperately, and he felt he’d failed them in every possible respect. As he hugged Felicity to him tightly, he remembered once more that it had been Fiona who’d cared for her in those dark days after Anne’s death. He owed her so much. If not for her, he’d still be mired in his grief, unable to function enough to be a good father, a good person.

  At last, he went to his own room and bathed, washing away the stress and grime of the day. Pulling on a heavy robe, he belted it around his waist and then slipped into the hallway, making his way to the Gold Room. He stared at the door, knowing he should just leave Fiona in peace tonight. She’d been through so much...

  Still, the thought of holding her in his arms, offering her whatever comfort he could while hopefully receiving some as well, was too powerful to resist. He knocked lightly.

  Long moments passed before she finally opened it a crack, peering out at him. Her scent, an intriguing blend of vanilla and spices and warm, freshly bathed woman hit him, and a surge of desire left him tingling in its wake.

  She was wearing a plain white nightdress, de
mure and lacy, that must have belonged to Anne, though he didn’t recognize it.

  “Do you have everything you need?” he asked softly. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

  “Your servants brought me everything I could possibly want,” she said a bit ruefully, but despite her small smile, the emptiness in her eyes disturbed him.

  For a moment, silence fell between them, then she cleared her throat. “Good night, Morgan. Thank you.” She started to close the door, but he put up a hand, stopping her.

  “Can I come in, Fiona?”

  She dropped her gaze, her whole body riddled with tension. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Please,” he whispered, unwilling to take no for an answer. She needed him tonight, needed him desperately, and he needed her, too. “Please let me hold you for just a little while. I thought I was going to lose you today. I just need to convince myself that you’re all right, that you’re safe and alive.”

  She made a small, strangled sound, and whether it was dismay or pleasure he wasn’t sure, but she stepped aside and opened the door wide enough for him to slip inside the room.

  He was pleased to see that a fire burned merrily in the hearth and a plate of food sat mostly untouched on a table in front of it. The bed had been turned down, and the room smelled fresh and inviting. His servants had done well. He’d have to thank them tomorrow.

  “Did you try and eat something?” he asked.

  “A little, but I’m not hungry,” she said, her voice hollow.

  Deciding not to push it for the moment, he walked over to the table where someone had also thoughtfully left a decanter of Irish whisky. Pouring a small amount in two glasses, he turned around and handed her one. “At least have a drink,” he coaxed. “It might do you a world of good.”

  “All right,” she capitulated. She took the glass, and to his surprise, drained the entire thing, coughing a bit as she lowered it, her eyes watering.