In the Devil's Bed (Sins of the Duke Book 1) (25 page)

Jack placed his hand between her thighs, parting them. He lifted his lips from hers and growled, “God, I want you like this. Always.”

Regan parted her legs and let her hands drift down his hips guiding him towards her center. “You will always have me.”

A dark shadow flickered over Jack’s face and Regan felt a stab of worry. But before she could ask, Jack thrust himself inside her. He lifted his hands to the sides of her face and gazed down into her eyes.

As he stroked her in a slow, erotic rhythm, he kept his gaze fixed on her, and Regan couldn’t help but feel that he was savoring her as if they might never touch again.

Wrapping her arms around his back and her legs about his waist, Regan gasped as he filled her, each stroke bringing her closer till at last the world around her erupted in white light and she moaned his name.

He tensed above her and lowered his mouth to hers, slipping his tongue between her lips as he thrust one last time deep inside her. The weight of his body lowered onto her, pressing her into the bed, surrounding her with him. Regan traced her fingers along his shoulder blades, while he rested his body on top of hers.

As he rolled to the side, bringing her with him to rest against his wide chest, Regan felt a hint of foreboding. Something had happened since last night. Something to change Jack.

Jack pulled her close to him, pressing her body against his length. “I must leave you for a time this morning.”

“Must you?”

He glanced down at her and swallowed. “Yes. A meeting. Regarding your safety.”

Regan nodded against his chest. She could feel the hesitation in his voice. He didn’t wish to tell her something. “I understand.”

“But in the meantime, I would like to have your belongings fetched. Would you like that?”

Regan nodded.
This
was her home now. Strange though it may seem, her place was here with Jack. And it always would be. “Yes.”

“Good. I’ll send the servants over immediately.”

“I’ll be waiting here for you.”

He caressed the side of her face with the tips of his fingers. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

Jack wrapped his strong arms around her and pulled her tighter to his chest. Regan gasped for air, but she didn’t stop him. Because the shadow in her heart was darkening, and she knew it was only going to grow darker.

***

T
he heavy trunks sat in mountainous piles in Jack’s sprawling library. Candlelight danced over the brass tacks and buckles, beckoning her to free the contents. It had taken quite a bit of convincing, but Geoffrey had finally allowed Jack’s servants in. Apparently, according to Sylvia, Jack had been quite persuasive. Regan propped her hands on her waist and turned about in a circle.

Which one, first?

The fire crackled and she focused on the warmth as she stared down at her things. She didn’t even know where to begin.

Blowing out a sigh, Regan closed her eyes, turned in one more circle and pointed. She opened her eyes and strode to the trunk. She knelt down and raked her fingers over the heavy leather.

A loud knock reverberated throughout the room. Regan jumped.

“Pardon, Madam, but you have a visitor,” the butler called through the closed door.

Regan drew her brows together. Who knew she was here? Only Jack, Mr. O’Malley, and Lord Ashecroft. Regan stood slowly, smoothing her hands over her skirts. “Who is calling?”

“The Duke of Chiles, my lady.” The voice paused. “Your Grace. Please. I have yet to announce—”

“
Step aside.”
Chiles’ voice cut through the hallway. The door flung open, slamming into the wall with a crack as he strode into the room.

Her grandfather’s white hair glinted in the morning sun and his polished black boots stood out against the pristine white of his trousers as they clicked against the hardwood floor. The gold head of his cane winked and his narrow eyes bored into her.

“Leave us,” snapped Chiles to the Butler.

The old man glanced from Regan to the duke, then quickly backed from the room.

Regan fisted her hands and stood. She fought the urge to order him straight out. A shocking rush of hatred hummed through her veins. This man had tried to control her since her father’s death. Now that he’d let her slip through his fingers, she wondered what new tactics he would try to bring her to heel. She strode forward, ready to brush past him as if he were nothing. “I was just leaving, Your Grace.”

He grabbed her arm as she passed, his fingers digging into her flesh through her gown. “No. You were not. You are staying here and you will listen.”

Regan tensed in his grip. She looked down at his fingers clawing into her sleeve.

“How may I help you?” she asked, forcing her voice to remain calm.

“You sound like a clerk.” Lord Chiles gave her arm a tight squeeze then yanked his hand away as if she were diseased. “Then again, you have married into trade.”

Regan stepped back from him, forcing herself to remain polite. Distant. Even though she wanted to send him to the devil for the way he had treated Jack and for the way he was treating her.

“I am sorry that it so displeases you,” she drawled. She paused. “Actually, that’s a lie. I couldn’t give a bloody damn about what pleases you.”

The duke’s thin lips curled in a tight smile as his blue eyes hardened. “Think what you may. I will know if, now that you’re married, you will cease your work in Whitechapel.”

Regan opened her mouth, speechless. Drawing in a deep breath, she clasped her hands before her. “Your Grace, we have never been close. My father wished to keep me away from you altogether.”

“I couldn’t give a damn about your father.”

Regan’s mouth dried at his words. It was a lie. She could see it in his eyes. There was a wealth of pain. But something else as well. A sudden unease tightened Regan’s throat. She’d always known her grandfather to be ruthless, but in this moment, there was a hint of madness in the old man’s eyes.

“I will have an answer,” he said calmly.

“It has always been the same answer. Why should it change now?”

“Your marriage to this man is an absolute disaster,” he gritted. “Only your father would have approved of such stupidity.”

The duke drew in a ragged breath. He stepped beside her and she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.

Resignation creased the soft flesh around his mouth.

He shook his head sadly. “Regan, I am giving you one more opportunity to come back and to erase the past. I will not be stopped if you force my hand.”

She turned towards him, looking him in the eyes. Whatever pain had been in them was gone now. They shone hard without remorse or mercy.

“I say it again, Regan,” he whispered urgently. “Come back. Take the place your father abandoned. Be what you were born to be. A Chance.”

Regan drew in a slow breath. “I’m a Hazard now.”

“Pity.” The softness of his word filled the air with threat.

A sick warning tugged at her stomach. “What are you driving at, Your Grace? What’s done is done.”

“You seem to forget who I am.” He shook his head and stepped away. “At every turn, your father tried to destroy everything I stand for. Look what happened to him.”

He had been murdered, brutally in a back alley.

“What are you saying,” she demanded.

“Clinging to Hazard and your ways is a vast mistake, my dear.”

“I disagree,” she countered.

The duke smiled softly. It should have been a kind, sympathetic smile, but it was cold, like a predator going in for the final strike. “Then I suppose he has told you everything?”

“I trust Jack. He would not lie to me.”

Her grandfather sighed and shook his head. “I lament your naivety. Like your father, it is, I think, your fatal flaw. It will ruin you in the end.”

“Say what you’ve come to say or leave,” Regan said, her voice echoing weirdly in her ears.

“Clearly he never told you that he was working for me.” The duke glanced down at his cane. “All along.” He looked back up, his gaze triumphant. “I hired him to watch you, guard you, and report everything to me.”

“I don’t believe you,” she rushed. Jack hated men like her grandfather. There was no chance he would work for one. Besides, he wouldn’t betray her thus.

“No, I’m sure you don’t.” He reached into the fold of his black coat and pulled out a small bundle of letters bound with a dark blue ribbon. “But I think you shall believe these.”

He held them out, his fingers barely touching the ribbon. “Take them.”

Regan hesitated. He was lying. Jack wouldn’t have kept such a thing from her.

“For such a truth seeker, you seem unwilling to seek it now.”

Silently, Regan stretched out her hand. He dropped the letters into her palm. The parchment brushed against her skin and, though weightless, they felt like lead.

“Please leave my home,” she said hollowly.

Chiles inclined his head. “Things could have been very different, Regan. You could have been my granddaughter. The world would have followed your every command.”

He strode to the door then stopped and glanced over his shoulder. “You have set about a course of actions that will not be stopped.”

The bitterness in his words hung between them and remained in the air as he strode out the door.

Regan stood in the middle of the room, grasping the letters in her hand. Suddenly, she felt lost. No one could help her with this.

Regan tightened her fingers around the crisp parchment. She looked at the fireplace. The warm embers beckoned. If she dropped the letters into the fire, she would never have to know the truth.

Her chest constricted. She would always wonder. She would look at Jack with suspicion.

Biting her lip, Regan hesitantly opened the first letter. It was dated merely two days after she’d hired Jack. Details of her actions, her whereabouts, all reported by Mr. Brent, filled the page.

Regan’s knees buckled as her heart sank. She knelt down, her skirts rippling about. She shuffled through the parchment and opened another. Reports by Mr. Brent, signed by Captain Hazard. And then she came to the next letter. The bold, wiry script of Jack’s hand jumped out at her. The letter was addressed to her grandfather and detailed the interaction with Geoffrey and the nature of his duties as her guard in her house.

A tear slipped down Regan’s cheek.

Jack had saved her life. He’d made love to her body. Made love to her soul. And all this time, he had been working for the one person she hated. He’d married her with this lie between them. He had made it seem as though he, too, loathed her grandfather and yet he had been telling the duke everything. Pain like a blade cut through her chest. Regan wiped the tear away with the back of her hand. She needed to go back to something simple. To what meant something more than just herself. It was the only thing that would save her from her own terrifying doubts now.

***

L
ike a silent warning, the tawny hues of early morning streaked across the narrow hall at the back of Chiles’ house. Jack tucked the file, filled with condemning parchment, into the small, leather satchel slung over his shoulder.

Any moment, a servant would stride down this hall. If he was caught, he might as well be fleeing for Australia. Jack paused at a corner and glanced round. The hall was clear. Jack hurried down it, but a door, just slightly ajar, caught his eye. Reason told him to head out, but instinct was urging him to stay for a few more moments.

He advanced on the door, listening for the sound of voices. But the house was still. Slipping his fingers into the crack of the open door, he peered in. Empty.

Letting out a slow breath, Jack edged the panel open and he stepped inside. Bright colors were painted all over the walls. Ships and rainbows decorated the ceiling and children’s toys were placed in perfect order all over the floor.

A nursery?

Jack took another step inside. To his knowledge, there hadn’t been children in this house in almost forty years. The fire was lit, gently crackling and he had the eerie sensation that this room had been kept exactly the same for a very long time. He approached the fire and placed his hand along the mantel. It was almost impossible for him to think of the duke as human, not after what the bastard had done.

But the sight of this place? Regan’s father had grown up here and the duke had obviously loved his children to keep the nursery so perfectly. Jack shook his head and slid his hand over the mantel. His finger hit a rough spot and Jack frowned. He leaned in and looked at the circular knot in the otherwise perfect wood. He pressed down.

A click echoed through the room accompanied by a slight whooshing of air. The side of the mantel swung open, exposing a gap about as wide and long as Jack’s hand.

Jack’s heart slammed in his ribs. What the hell had he found?

As if a serpent might be inside, Jack reached carefully into the opening and his fingers brushed rough parchment. Gently, he pulled the bundle out. He shouldered his satchel higher and grasped the letters bound with green ribbon in both his hands. He glanced quickly over his shoulder. The servants would be about in a moment and he had to get back to Regan.

Still, he couldn’t stop himself. He pulled out the first letter and unfolded it.

Dear Father,

I have told you time and time again that I will not change my views regarding the reformation of government policy and will not be swayed with fear mongering tactics.

Jack blinked, barely believing his eyes. My God, this was Regan’s father. He paged through the next letters. They were all similar, though some weren’t addressed to the duke at all, but other political activists calling for action. Jack reached the last few and hesitated. He should go. Right now. But his fingers brushed the face of the next letter and he spotted the address. Lord Liverpool.

Lord Liverpool,

It has recently come to my attention that I am in grave danger. While that is of serious import to myself, I have found that the circumstances surrounding the attacks on my life are much more serious than they would seem. My father and I have never been in accord as to our viewpoints, but I have evidence to support that he and young Lord Brookhurst are, indeed, plotting my death. Recently, I have discovered that my father is involved in a group of Lords bent on preventing democratic reform in their fear of a Republic. It would seem that they are willing to do whatever is necessary to achieve their aims. Please meet with me in the privacy of my home as soon as may be. I have information which would b—“