Innocent Courtesan to Adventurer's Bride (15 page)

How had she got into this situation? If she had known she could trust him from the beginning, then she would have told him about the Tolhurst Sapphire. But she had not known and everything had followed from that, every tangled lie, every pretence.

Quinn came back, her robe in his hands, a nightgown over his arm. ‘Here, put on the robe and go into the dressing room.' He turned away as he handed it to her, walked to the bell pull and stood with his back to her even when he had tugged it.

His respect for her modesty had the opposite effect to
the one he had intended, Lina thought, blushing at the memory of her utterly wanton behaviour. The trouble was, she brooded as she scrambled off the bed and into her robe, Quinn's reaction only made her want him more. He was chivalrous as well as intelligent, attractive, desirable… Lina knotted the sash and went into the gloomy little chamber that did service as a dressing room.

It was not until she shut the door behind herself that she wondered what she was doing there and what Quinn had rung for. Surely not to have her bath brought at this hour? It would utterly compromise her in the eyes of the staff. She should go back to her own room, but there was only the one door and she could hear him speaking to someone.

Lina sat down on the
chaise
and looked round, feeling rather blank. Soon, she would have to think about what had just happened, about how she felt about Quinn and how she was going to live day to day with him now. The triumph and excitement she had felt at Inchbold's retreat, his acceptance that she was not the woman he was looking for, was ebbing away. That immediate danger was past, but it was very clear that the authorities still believed her guilty and were not looking for anyone else. How was she ever going to clear her name?

The sounds from outside were still continuing. Lina curled up on the
chaise
, wincing slightly at the unaccustomed intimate soreness. There was a little blood and she wished she could wash. She put her head on the bolster at the end and closed her eyes, too weary to try to think any longer.

 

She must have dozed off, she realised as the door to the bedchamber opened, and she blinked against the sudden
flood of light. More candles had been lit and, in the corner, steam was curling up from the marble sarcophagus.

‘You rang for that to be filled at this time of night?' Lina walked stiffly to the doorway. Towels were spread on the edge of the bed and Quinn was rolling up the sleeves of his robe.

‘I did. Highly inconsiderate of me, I know. I also made the point of warning the footmen to tiptoe past your bedchamber door as I assumed you would be asleep,' he added, shaking what she assumed must be salt into the water. ‘Come and get in and soak a while. It will make you feel better.'

He sounded briskly practical, but he looked grim as he moved to put the screen around the big marble container and she realised he was afraid he had hurt her.

Protesting was embarrassing. Lina smiled a nervous
thank you
and slipped round the screen. She shed her robe and climbed the library steps that had been pressed into service. It was easy to get over the side and she slid into the warm water with a splash and a sigh of pleasure at the way she could sink up to her neck.

‘Are you all right?'

‘Yes, thank you.' Silence. Something prompted her to keep talking. ‘Such luxury! No wonder you use it daily. But I am sorry that you will appear so inconsiderate as to have demanded a second bath and at this hour.' It was easier to talk without being able to see him. How strange that they could speak like this when only a short while before she had lain in his arms, their bodies joined. The very thought of it made those rippling waves of sensation run through her again, and she saw with surprise that her nipples had hardened despite the warmth of the water.

Even the new aches and soreness were pleasurable, Lina
found, as she cupped the water in her hand and let it trickle over her body. How could her body feel like this when there was so much wrong, so much to fear?

‘Lina?' It sounded as though he was pacing.

This was no time to hide in the bath tub. Lina found the soap and washed, wishing she was not rinsing away the scent of Quinn as she did so. She stood up, then realised that without the steps she could not climb out. ‘I'm stuck, Quinn. My legs are not long enough to get out.'

‘Here.' He came round the screen, eyes closed, holding out a large bath towel. ‘Wrap yourself in that.'

It seemed ridiculous to be shy after what had happened, but she was grateful for his tact. ‘I am decent now.'

Quinn opened his eyes. She wished he would smile, but he still looked grim as he put his hands around her waist and lifted her out.

‘Quinn, are you tired?'

His eyebrows lifted. ‘I am not sure how to take that—I will try not to feel insulted.' Lina felt herself blush; he was talking about their short-lived lovemaking. ‘No, I am not tired.'

‘Then let me tell you who I am, how I came to be at The Blue Door, what happened at Sir Humphrey Tolhurst's house. Everything.'

‘Get dry, then, and put on your robe.'

When Lina emerged Quinn had lit the fire and tidied the bed. The room looked innocent and comfortable and safe. ‘Curl up on the bed,' he suggested. ‘I'll sit here.' She wondered whose protection that distance was for. ‘Now, tell me it all. Honestly.'

‘I was brought up in a vicarage in the Suffolk countryside,' Lina began, flushing at the implication that she would tell him any more untruths. The pillows were soft
yet firm and smelt of Quinn as she tried to make herself relax. ‘I have two sisters—Arabella and Margaret—and our mother died when we were children. Our father is very strict, very puritanical…'

‘…and Lord Dreycott took me in,' Lina finished, perhaps half an hour later. ‘I have heard nothing from my aunt, so I wrote to Cook, who lives out, the other day, but there has been no reply from there either. Now I do not know what to do.'

‘So this man Makepeace forced you to go to Tolhurst?' Quinn was looking decidedly sceptical.

‘Yes! What choice did I have?'

‘Run away.'

‘Where to?'

‘Back to Suffolk,' he said as though it should have been obvious.

‘My father would have thrown me out.' She was not convincing him, she could see. ‘And my sister had gone, too.'

‘And you say Makepeace told you that and you believed him?'

She had not thought that the man had lied, Lina realised. Of course, that was the sort of lie he would tell. Then the
way Quinn was phrasing his questions hit her. He thought she was telling another pack of lies.

‘Your father is a vicar,' he persisted. ‘Am I to believe he would be seen to throw you out? He would be angry, I have no doubt. Had he ever struck you?'

‘No,' she admitted. He had whipped Meg, but never her or Bella. ‘But he shouts—'

‘Are you telling me that being shouted at by your father is worse than being deflowered by Tolhurst?'

‘No, of course not. But Makepeace was demanding the money. If he didn't get it, he would do all those dreadful things at The Blue Door.'

‘He would do them anyway. You are an intelligent woman, you would know that.'

‘You do not believe me, do you?' she demanded.

‘I believe that you are being groomed as your aunt's successor by both her and her business partner. You would not welcome the encounter with Tolhurst, but you accepted it as a necessary evil. After that, yes, I believe that you are not responsible for the theft.'

‘Why should I lie to you now?' Lina wanted to weep. She thought that she had Quinn's support. Yes, he was right: her story was full of holes if it was looked at objectively, in cold blood. But how to convince a confident, courageous man that at the time she had felt terrified, trapped, without any option but to submit?

Perhaps if she had thrown herself on his mercy right at the beginning, he would have believed her. But now she had lied to him, deceived him, shown herself less than chaste.

‘For the same reason you wanted to be my lover once I had heard Inchbold's story—because you need me.'

‘I see.' Lina felt too miserable even to protest. She lay
back against the pillows and closed her eyes. ‘So, what happens now?' He could not throw her out because of the will. They were tied to each other.

‘We must both go to London,' Quinn said, startling her so much she sat bolt upright. ‘Letters are too dangerous.'

‘We? You will take me? You will help?'

‘Of course.' Quinn was staring back at her. ‘Do you think I would abandon this—you—now?'

‘But it will compromise you even more if I am caught,' she protested. ‘If they come back, you can say you were mistaken in the dates or something, but if you do something active, then it makes you an accessory, does it not?'

‘Yes. So we will not be caught.'

We
, Lina repeated to herself.
We. I am not alone any more.
‘Thank you,' she murmured. ‘I do not know why you should, after I lied to you, but I am just so grateful.'

‘I dislike injustice as much as I dislike lying,' Quinn said. Lina dropped her eyes from the look in his. He was disappointed in her as well as angry, she realised. ‘We will go to my town house—the one I have purchased and spent one night in so far—and establish you as my mistress, just in case the Runners are still taking an interest. I will write to Gregor tomorrow, tell him to work faster to open it up and employ servants.'

‘The will,' Lina recalled, and her heart sank. Of course, there had to be a reason why this would not work.

‘There is no reason that you must stay here. You are entitled to, but I do not read that codicil as compelling you to remain here. If I cannot clear your name in six months, then I will send you abroad until I can.'

‘Abroad?'

‘Better than Newgate, wouldn't you say? But that's academic—we will face it if we have to.'

The relief that he was not abandoning her made it difficult to think straight, but she still felt so guilty. ‘You would do all this for me after I embroiled you in it, lied to you. How can I repay you? I…I led you on to make love to me when you believed I was not a virgin. But I am not any more. If you still want me, then I will be your mistress, Quinn.'

Even as she said it, Lina knew she was making a mistake. Quinn's face hardened and his hands closed into fists on the arms of the big chair, but when he spoke his voice was calm. ‘If I give you money for sex, you say that makes you a whore,' he said. ‘If you give me sex for protection, what does that make me?'

‘A bodyguard?' Celina ventured, her cheeks flaming. Pride, male honour, this man's honour. She understood none of it well enough, it seemed, and now she had blundered again.

 

Quinn felt the anger and the tension dissolve. He wanted to laugh for what seemed the first time all day, and controlled the impulse, afraid if he began he would not stop. His innocent courtesan-in-training had managed to put her dainty foot in it, yet again. And this time, he was convinced, she had meant it as a genuine gesture, offering him the one thing of worth she possessed: herself.

He wished she would put some real value on herself, he thought. But perhaps the prospect of the gallows made everything else—honesty, virtue—unimportant. She knew too much, including how to lie and how to act, but she was still too innocent for her own good. He could not stay cross with her any longer, even if letting go of his anger made him vulnerable to the physical attraction that had him aching for her. But he would not trust her over
anything but the fact she had no idea what had happened to that sapphire.

‘Celina, have you ever desired a man physically before?' he asked, seeing the pink turn to deep rose as she shook her head. ‘I know you enough to realise that you will be sorry if you waste that first experience with someone you don't have strong, real feelings for, someone who does not feel like that about you. You are a romantic. I am flattered you are attracted to me, but I do not sleep with romantic virgins.'

He was wasting his breath, wasting the emotion with which he tried to convince her of the importance of what he was saying. She probably thought he was a complete hypocrite, a rake lecturing a woman he had just been with on the importance of romantic love, of chastity and waiting for the right man.

But he could recall what it had been like to feel that the act of love was sacred and he knew the bitterness of romantic youth on having that belief shattered. His entire adult life had been turned around because of one young woman's lack of honour and the disillusion it had brought. In his anger he thought of revenge on any society female careless enough to put herself in his power, but he knew in his heart he would never do that. But the men who had trapped and traduced him—they would pay.

‘But I am not a—'

‘Yes, you are, in here.' He touched his forehead as she frowned at him. ‘You had convinced yourself that you could separate whatever happened with Tolhurst from what is inside you, but, believe me, you cannot.'

She looked away, biting her lip.

‘You have my word that I will help you, Celina. I do not need paying with anything—except truth.'

There was no response, just a tiny shake of her head, so Quinn pressed on with the practicalities, working it out as he spoke. ‘Tomorrow I will write to Gregor to expect us, tie up the loose ends here and you will practise with the macquillage until you can fool a lady's maid into thinking you use it all the time. Then the day after we will leave for London by post-chaise. And I want you to write down every single thing you can remember from the moment you agreed to go to Tolhurst until the moment you arrived back at The Blue Door. Everything, every tiny detail. Describe it as though you had to paint a picture of each scene. Do you understand?'

‘Yes.' Celina nodded. ‘You are looking for clues about the sapphire.' She yawned hugely, transformed before his eyes from a desirable, beautiful, dangerous creature into a tired young woman with too much to bear on her slender shoulders. ‘Oh, I am sorry.'

‘If you tell me you are sorry one more time, I will turn you over my knee,' Quinn threatened. He was tired of gratitude, he just wanted honesty. Then he wished he had not spoken, as the image of her squirming in his lap while he stroked that perfect peach-like bottom had the inevitable result. ‘Go to bed.'

Celina scrambled off the bed. ‘Goodnight, Quinn.' She leaned in as she passed him and dropped a hesitant kiss on his cheek as he was off guard getting to his feet. ‘Thank you.'

Hell. There goes a night's sleep.
He was not certain whether he dreaded the inevitable erotic dreams or the familiar nightmares most.

 

‘How can you read with the carriage swaying about like this?' Lina asked, clutching at the strap with both hands as
the post-chaise lived up to its nickname of
yellow bounder
over a particularly rutted piece of road. ‘I would be sick in an instant.'

‘You get used to it. It is worse reading on camelback,' Quinn said, his eyes fixed on the sheaf of papers she had given him that morning as they set off for London.

‘Really?' Images of camel trains trekking across boundless deserts filled her imagination.
Oh, to be away from here, away to somewhere strange and wild and free. With Quinn.

‘It is like being on a ship in a swell. It rolls back and forth and side to side at the same time and you are a long way off the ground,' he said, his eyes still fixed on the page as he removed a pencil from behind his ear to make a note. ‘Is this Makepeace a man of means?'

‘He's a crocodile,' Lina said, the camels merging into a vision of the River Nile, its banks covered in evil, grinning reptiles. ‘Have you ever seen the Nile?'

‘Yes. And the crocodiles,' Quinn added, looking up and smiling. ‘But has he money?'

‘I have no idea. He is very anxious to get his teeth into The Blue Door and to do disgusting things that would make higher profits. Why? Surely he could not have stolen the sapphire?'

‘I agree. I don't think he would risk alienating a good client by staging a theft while one of his girls was on the premises.'

One of his girls. That is me
, Lina thought, trying not to be hurt by Quinn's choice of words. She had to accept that he classed her as a courtesan. He had taken her virginity and that, she knew, put her on the wrong side of the wafer-thin line that divided decent women from their fallen sisters. One thrust of that hard body and she was ruined,
but for him she had been lost before that, ruined from the moment when she had chosen to stay and not flee from Makepeace.

It was strange being shut up with him in the post-chaise. Yesterday's flurry of activity had given her little time to reflect on the events of the previous evening, yet now she was alone with the man who had taken her virginity, the man she still wanted with a passion that she knew she did not have the vocabulary of words, or actions, to express.

The rake had vanished. So had the man amusing himself by playing the country gentleman. This was the traveller and the adventurer now, planning an expedition, heading into danger. And she could see the scholar, too, in the concentration on her story, the search for clues, the precise notes.

‘I need to get inside The Blue Door and talk to your aunt,' he said, frowning at the page. ‘I imagine that will not be difficult?'

‘It will not be, provided she is well,' Lina agreed. ‘But she suffers from a stomach complaint that sometimes lays her low for days at a time. She was ill with that when I left.'

‘Then you must tell me how to reach her rooms. Makepeace will want to help clear the smear from the name of the establishment, but I am assuming he does not know where you have gone and we cannot risk him deciding to ingratiate himself with the authorities by betraying you.'

‘So you accept I have reason to fear him?'

‘Of course.' Quinn raised one eyebrow. ‘Brothel keepers are rarely people of finer feeling or elevated moral standards.'

‘I had better come with you,' Lina said, pushing away
the logical conclusion that he classed her, and her aunt, in the same category. ‘The house is a maze.'

She expected him to refuse, point blank. Instead he looked at her, while he pushed a lock of tawny hair back behind one ear. ‘It would be dangerous. Besides the risk of you being captured, there is a strong probability that I will run foul of the doormen and you could end up in a fistfight.'

‘I have no doubt that you would deal with them.' And without hesitation, either. He was used to living where violence was an everyday occurrence and, even if she had not overheard Michael's awestruck comments about the training sessions in the barn, she knew he was hard and fit.

‘Do I frighten you?' Quinn asked, startling her out of her recollections of his naked body.

‘Yes,' Lina said. ‘
Yes
. You are outside society, outside convention. You are free in a way I do not understand.'
And I love you.
The realisation drove the breath from her lungs and the blood from her face. In all her daydreams it had never occurred to her that her true love might be utterly out of her reach.

‘I would never hurt you,' Quinn said as he reached for her hands, obviously thinking her reaction was alarm. ‘Not more than I have already,' he added under his breath.

‘I know.' Lina let him take her hands, curled her fingers within his for a second before freeing herself. She must not indulge her need to touch him, for she
was
frightened now with the vision of their parting all too plain in front of her. What was she going to do, feeling like this about a man who would be gone from her life within months? ‘I…'
Love you. I will always love you.
‘I trust you, Quinn.'