by K L Clare
“Oh,” I said, suddenly shy. “What about me?”
“I had assumed you would be on top of that as well.”
I nodded, and he grinned. “Good,” he added.
“Take care of your business, Will. I’ll wait for you.”
“Promise me you’ll eat.” He plucked a juicy raspberry from the tray and stuffed it into my mouth, then pressed his lips to mine. “I’ll speak to Mrs. Bates about your green salads.”
I fell against the pillows, beaming, remembering the incredulous look on his face when he’d realized the kale and avocado salad I’d eaten at the cottage was my whole dinner.
Before he stepped through the doorway, he glanced over his shoulder and found my smile. “There you are,” he whispered.
14
Will was gone from my room all night and left the estate before dawn for his office in London. It was easy to forget that he had professional responsibilities, that his career was something other than fighting my personal death squad.
I woke late that morning and lay there, thinking about the days that had passed.
While he had stayed in bed with me through that dark time, working hard to keep me from falling deeper into the wicked depths that reached for me, he’d spoken about his family and his business. He and his brothers had gone to Oxford, where he’d earned his MBA. He and Ethan then cofounded a private equity firm and maintained positions as active partners.
The lockdown in my head had kept me from responding, but I was right there with him as his captivating voice led me through the stories that made him who he was.
He’d described his company and how it functioned. He and Ethan focused on different aspects of the business, each with a management team that worked beneath him. Ethan conducted research and sourced investors and investments, while Will negotiated contracts, closed deals, and monitored portfolios. Ethan did most of the initial networking, but Will had the golden touch when it was time to close. It made sense. Will was commanding and charming when he wanted something. I couldn’t imagine him being denied.
The London financial community hailed them as the youngest founders of one of its most successful private equity firms.
Although Richard Hastings—an intelligence agent for MI5 before his death—had raised his sons as warriors first, he’d also valued higher education. Ethan completed his MBA two years ahead of Will. Thomas held a master’s in mathematical finance and would soon join his brothers in business.
Lissie slipped her angelic face into the room and grinned like the Devil. “Aunt Ellie! Will said you feel better. You wanna come on my tour?”
She’d needed me, and I had let her down in the worst way, leaving her with Will’s mother while I had cowered in darkness.
“Definitely. Come in, sweetie. I’ll get dressed quickly—help me choose something to wear.”
She giggled as someone chased her away.
Mrs. Bates pushed into my room with a housemaid on her heels. “Up with you, dear. It’s nearly twelve. You must be starving. William said you’d eat for us today.” Her lilting Irish accent was hypnotic. She turned to the housemaid. “Lily, say hello to our young lady of the house.”
“What? No, I’m not that. I’ll come down to the kitchen after I dress—if you’ll tell me where to find it.” I clutched the sheet beneath my chin. It smelled like Will.
“No need, Ms. James. I have a tray ready for you now,” Lily said in a small voice. Her accent was different than Will’s aristocratic posh. She must have been from North England, maybe Yorkshire.
“Ellie,” I corrected. What the hell? William was in big trouble.
“Don’t blame him, dear. I do things my way round here.” Mrs. Bates could read my face as well as anyone. She muttered to herself then. “It’s time one o’ them lads attached himself. Lord knows Mary could use a daughter.”
“Honestly, Mrs. Bates.” I pushed my hand against my forehead. “This is all a bit much.”
She tossed my robe on the bed and eyed the mess she found beneath it. My cheeks heated. She canted her head, and her eyes hit the bathroom door. “Don’t mind us. Go on, then.” The two of them stepped into the corridor, so I launched into my robe and ran to the bathroom.
When I came out, I found the bed made and dozens of fragrant white and blush-pink flowers—roses?—arranged around the room. Some were in clear crystal vases and some in beautiful vintage urns. I tugged at a snowy-white flower in the blue porcelain urn, plucking it loose from a cluster that shared one sturdy stem. I held it under my nose and inhaled its rich fragrance, sighing as I waltzed across the room to soak up the sunshine.
He hadn’t bothered with a card.
“English roses, dear. That lad will give you nothing but the best,” Mrs. Bates said with a clever smile as she pulled the door shut.
A satisfied smile claimed my own face when the image of Will’s magnificent body filled my head. It wasn’t just the way he looked. There was something about the way he moved. The way he said my name. It changed me, took me to a carnal place within myself I never knew existed. When he returned from London, I’d have all of him.
* * *
The text alert on my phone startled me. There were seven voicemail messages and three times as many texts. I’d contacted the carrier to extend my coverage to England while Will had loaded the car before we left Lords Point, though he had cautioned me not to take my friends’ calls—to keep them safe. To keep us all safe. I didn’t read the text messages because it would reveal that I’d opened them, but no one would know if I listened to the voicemail.
“It’s Jess. You’re scaring me, Ells. Josh says you’re safe, but I need to hear it from you. Call me back, damn it.”
“I did some digging. I know who he is, which means I know where you are. I never thought—at least his resources are immense, so he should be able to keep you safe. He better.” It was Josh.
“Keep your eyes and ears open. You’re a suspect now. I’ll do what I can to lead them in another direction, but you left me with nothing useful. Ask him if he can do something about that. Stay safe.” Josh again.
“I miss you. I know you’re with him. Do you love him? Come home to me, Ellie.” His words were low and slurred this time.
“I know you would tell me to trust Josh. He says this is for the best, that I should let go. Well, what if I can’t? Am I supposed to just pick someone else to be my best friend, to be my family, and pretend you were never here? Damn you, Ells. Damn him.” Jess’s voice broke on the last word.
The last two messages remained unheard. I couldn’t bear to hear any more of the pain I’d caused. In order to live, I had to hurt others—had to be a suspect in the murder of my own family.
I reminded myself to feel the pain. Tears spilled down my face while my stomach rolled with nausea. I threw my phone at the wall, and it damaged the cream-and-gold floral damask wallpaper.
15
I stared at the nineteenth-century oil painting, William the Conqueror at the Battle of Hastings, which hung above the bar in the billiard room. I couldn’t tell who’d painted it but planned to research that when I could. Was it a cosmic coincidence or fated historical repetition? Will Hastings had indeed conquered. He had swooped in to save my life and had taken it from me at the same time.
“You’re late,” I whispered behind my glass of Dom Pérignon. I had tuned out the music and the conversations around me.
Earlier that day, after Will called and said he was driving back for the night, Thomas convinced me to dress for dinner and have a drink with a few of his friends while I waited for my conqueror to return.
I’d occupied myself with the exploration of Eastridge while Will was in London. Lissie provided me with not one but three “super-secret castle tours.” God, I’d missed her. Will had shown Lissie the house and encouraged her to claim it as her own castle. He lavished free rein upon the girl.
Eastridge was a stately eighteenth-century Georgian country house built of native stone. It had been renovated f
or modern comfort in recent years, though the old charm of the soaring, ornate plastered ceilings, original oak floors, and Baroque-style wall panels had been preserved with care. Stunning original fireplaces graced most rooms, as did ancestral portraits and other timeworn paintings.
The grand cantilevered staircase had been restored to its original splendor. It seemed to float high above the central great hall, and at the top it split the first-floor corridor into north and south bedroom wings. Balusters, newels, treads, and even the substantial but graceful winding handrail were all made from Scottish oak and detailed with simple but elegant carvings.
There was a huge modern kitchen with pantries, an informal dining space, and a comfortable family lounging area on the ground level that extended across the back of the house, occupying what was once a drawing room, a music room, and a large library. A formal dining room and a large drawing room with a library were located to the right of the central hall, while a billiard room with a full custom bar occupied space to the left. The basement had been converted into a training center with a gym the size of a professional regulation-size basketball court.
Because of Ethan and Will’s financial success, the house remained a private home. Many comparable estates were forced to open for the public to generate income for maintenance or were turned over to the National Trust for preservation.
There were times when Will was gone that I had found the house eerily quiet, and an odd breeze, slight and cold, had touched my skin.
Now the only presence I sensed was Will’s—he was home. I turned in his direction, pitching a slow, coquettish smile.
He stood with his hands in his trouser pockets and leaned on one shoulder against the casing of the billiard room doorway. He wore a three-piece dark blue Italian suit with plaid detail so fine you could see it only when you were close to him, a crisp white shirt unbuttoned at the neck, and no tie. His thick mane was slicked back instead of swept to the side. His charged eyes scorched a path into my soul.
The whole room became him.
One of the girls visiting with Thomas’s friends whimpered. She was right. Will was sexy as hell. I only just suppressed the sounds of my own pleasure. Will was the kind of man who enjoyed the chase as much as he did his prize’s submission, and I had no desire to deprive him of either.
I leaned against the bar where I’d been sketching the painting of William the Conqueror on a napkin and took a sip from my glass. I watched the smile dangle from the corner of his lips as he crossed the room.
I’d dressed for him. It was the first time he saw Miss Fancy Pants.
Gran used to call me that, though she was the old pot calling the kettle black. My grandmother had been the most elegant and fashionable woman I’d known, and she’d taught Isobel and me well, always providing plenty of wardrobe options for each of us. “Our style must be quite lovely and conservative at once,” she had explained as she’d peered over the rim of her red-framed readers and flashed a tight smile.
My scarlet sleeveless dress was a fitted sheath that hit below the knee, except where the right front slit sneaked up my thigh. My nude Louboutins were the perfect complement.
Will closed in, leaving little space between us. He took the drink from my hand and finished it himself. The most handsome man I’d ever seen leaned in close to my ear and sent a chill along my spine. “Elle. It’s late, but I’ll make it up to you.” His lips brushed along my cheek to the corner of my mouth before he straightened his back and stood at his full height.
“You better.” I placed a kiss on the underside of his bearded jaw. “Have you eaten?”
He shook his head and pushed his hot gaze down into mine. His masculine scent filled my senses. My knees threatened to buckle. He lifted my hand and pressed his warm lips there. “You’re beautiful.”
“Thank y—”
“If you two are quite finished, where’s Ethan?” Thomas interrupted, startling me.
Will turned to him with a raised brow.
“Right.” Thomas refilled my glass and poured double shots of whisky for himself and Will.
“Need to fight before I head back to the city. On the mats at six, brother,” Will ordered.
They threw back the Scotch and pounded their glasses on the wooden bar. That was enough. I wouldn’t share him any further until morning. I tugged on Will’s hand and led him toward the kitchen. Mrs. Bates had left a plate warming for him, and she’d shown me where to find it and how to turn off the oven. But once we were out of sight, he backed me up against the doors beneath the staircase and kissed me.
“I’m taking you to my room tonight.” His lips were at the base of my throat, his words vibrating there.
I ran my fingers through the back of his hair. “The boys’ wing. How very not English.”
Will’s hot gaze dipped and continued to move down the front of my dress. “You can worry about my virtue later, baby,” he teased. “I need to be inside you. Rather not wake the house. I will have all of you tonight.” He dragged his eyes back to mine and pushed his arousal into me.
I pushed back. “Dinner for you first. Seems you’ll need your strength. With your impending fight and all.”
He grinned. “Did you wear this for me?” His hand found the slit of my dress and glided up my thigh. A soft moan escaped me. The back of his fingers brushed the edge of my panties. “Is that a yes?”
Remembering where we were, I moved his hand away and then stumbled on my words. I don’t know why. It made him happy, and that was the point, wasn’t it? “I haven’t been myself since—I do prefer dresses and—yes, of course. I wore it for you.”
He tucked a finger under my chin and caressed my lips with his thumb. “Good. I’m going to buy you many more.” As he lowered his head to kiss me again, Thomas called out his name.
“Better be important, goddammit,” Will snapped at his brother but kept his head lowered, his eyes on my mouth.
“Just got a text. They’re all here now. She needs to see them,” Thomas insisted.
“Yeah. All right, let’s get it done.” He pulled out his phone and sent a text: six hall
A knot twisted in my gut, and I gripped his arm with a shaky hand. “What is it, Will? Tell me what’s happening.”
“There’s no need to panic, Elle. I only mean for you meet the security team while I’m home.” As the words left his mouth, he moved us aside, and three men came through the basement door. Another came from the front entrance and two more from the billiard room.
It was the Six, Will’s private army. Six former soldiers of the British Armed Forces, skilled marksmen and combat fighters who trained at Eastridge every day. To the public, it was a security team for the estate and its properties, but these men understood their real purpose. Will employed them for my protection, to help keep me alive.
Six soldiers surrounded Will and me in a tight circle, their broad backs forming an impenetrable barrier. Each held a weapon in the low-ready tactical position until Will commanded them to stand down and disband.
I could do nothing more than stare with my mouth hanging wide.
“Meet Ellie James,” Will said to the men. He gave a clipped nod, and one man stepped forward. Will turned back to me. “This team is for your protection. Joe Taylor is your point of contact if ever you need one.”
The man who had stepped in front of us shifted the rifle onto his shoulder and greeted me with a calloused hand. “It’s my honor,” Joe Taylor said.
16
Thomas and the Six had gone, leaving us alone in the kitchen. Will wiped his mouth on the dinner napkin, then kissed my neck and purred my name. “Come with me to bed, Elle.”
“As soon as you tell me what I want to know.” I gave him a flirty smile. “Please.”
He swept me into his arms, entered the hall, and walked toward the staircase. “On the way. Ask quickly.”
“Why six? And why military-trained soldiers?”
“I would have nothing less.” To connect the dots for me, he outlined
the level of violence the Order had undertaken in the past.
I kissed his neck as he climbed the stairs. “Go on.”
“You must understand there is a sickness of the mind in men like these. They are no different than the vile extremists of the early religious crusades.”
I nodded. There was one more thing I needed to know. “You have daggers.” I had noticed when he’d packed the black duffel at the cottage before our flight. “Why?” I whispered.
He ignored my question.
I touched the corner of his mouth with mine. “I want to know.”
“A bullet is merciful. Those who hunt you will suffer.” A dangerous energy vibrated through him as he said the words, and God help me, I was enthralled by it. “No more talk like this,” he added as he walked through his bedroom entrance.
Then he pinned me against the bedroom door he’d just locked and took my mouth with his. I’d never been kissed by a man so fierce, never knew passion so raw and powerful could be expressed in a kiss. I wanted his power, wanted to breathe it in. I needed to feel it inside me.
He tossed his jacket and vest, and I quickly unbuttoned his shirt, tugged it from his shoulders, and dragged my lips over his magnificent chest. He fisted my hair, twisting it through his fingers, and drew me back to his mouth.
“Elle. I need to be inside you. I’m mad for you.” His deep voice was rough, and the sensual way he said my name unmade me. It was an imperious purr.
Oh, God.
I spun and lifted my hair so he could unzip me. Goose bumps trailed behind those velvet kisses as his mouth followed the descent of my zipper. He grasped my shoulders and turned me back to him, causing my dress to hit the floor and pool at my feet.
There I stood before him, weak with anticipation, wearing nothing more than the red lace bra and panties I’d chosen for the dress, for him. He stared. His eyes lingered, sliding up and down without care. A blush warmed my cheeks. He purred my name again, and the blood rushed to my core.