Sins of a Wicked Princess (17 page)

“No, but you do always have to be the one in control.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Then assign me to do this instead of you.”

“I—I can’t.” This was her responsibility. If she gave it someone else, it would be the same as saying she couldn’t do it.

“Then we do this my way.” He picked her up around the waist and carried her to the bed.

She struggled but he still wouldn’t release her. “If you want me to leave, you’ll have to bash me over the head and carry me from the room.”

He tossed her on the dress on top of the bed and glared at her. “If I must.”

“Then do it.”

His hand clenched and unclenched at his sides, but he made no move to touch her.

She pushed herself on her elbows, trying to be rational. “Why don’t you ask me why I don’t want to leave?”

“I give you my word Sommet will be dealt—” When she huffed, he was suddenly on top of her, his hands braced on either side of the bed.

And she realized she was seeing just a fraction of what her brother had seen earlier, the intensity, the darkness that Ian kept so deeply hidden.

His voice was rough, like it scraped from his throat. “Don’t you see, I
cannot
let anything happen to you. It was selfish to let you come here in the first place. If anything were to happen to you, it would rip out my entrails.”

The outrage slowly seeped from her body. She cupped his cheek. “That is why you need to trust me enough to be a useful part of this, not some poor princess who needs to be coddled.”

“I don’t think of you like that.”

“But you do. Otherwise you would have asked if I got any information from Sommet in the breakfast room.”

The tendons stood out against Ian’s neck. “You got information from Sommet?”

She knew it was impolite to point out when she was right, but she did pause to let him figure that out on his own.

With a sigh, he rolled off her onto the bed and lay next to her. “I take it I’m missing some pertinent fact that will change my mind and make me look like a buffoon.”

She told him about the ambassadors and Sommet’s plan.

“So either you let him win or your country is carved to pieces. You could have started with that bit of information when you entered.”

“Well, you could have thought twice before picking me up and tossing me around like a rag doll.”

“A valid point.” He propped himself up on one elbow, his cheek resting on his fist. “So if you and Gregory were to disappear—”

“The other countries will move.”

“Curse Sommet. I knew he was good, but the man is a master.” He flicked her nose. “Thankfully, I’m even better.”

She loved his cocksure attitude, but she had to know. “Do we stand a chance against him? He’s had months if not years to plan all this.”

Ian’s brow wrinkled. “That’s a good point.”

Her heart stuttered. “Then we don’t have a chance?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course we have a chance. Sommet might be clever but I’m a devious bastard. No, the interesting point is, when did Sommet become involved with your brother?”

Juliana frowned. “I’m not sure. I think perhaps at the Congress of Vienna.”

“So why then? What changed?”

“The war was finally over.”

“Yes, but why was it important to gain control of your brother? Sommet obviously has some power in Spain, why not get them to give him the mountains after Lenoria is chopped to bits?”

It was a good question, one she hadn’t considered before.

Ian traced the shell of her ear with a slow sweep of his finger. “But you’ll find out, won’t you?”

She turned so she could rest her hand on his chest. “Yes. And despite your high-handedness—which you had better never try again if you value your life—thank you for trying to protect me.”

“I warn you, if it comes down to it, I will pick keeping you safe over protecting your country.” He grasped her hand and brought it to his mouth, catching her index finger lightly with his teeth and flicking his tongue over the tip. “Each and every time.”

“And I warn you I won’t ever let you.” But she thrilled at his words, at the knowledge that he found her more important than anything else. Than an entire country.

“Why are you lying in this bed with me?” he asked. “Why don’t you loathe me?”

The heat from his mouth traveled up her arm and down into her core. She undid the buttons on his coat.

“Why did you do it?” Neither of them needed to clarify what they were discussing.

“We were following orders.”

“Did you hate my parents?”

He glared at the ceiling. “I never even met them.”

“Then did you hate me?”

“No!” He draped his arm across his forehead. “I see where you are going with this.”

“Why are you so eager for my anger?”

“Because then one of us would have the strength to push me away.”

She nudged his arm away from his eyes, and peered down into them. “I don’t want to.”

“You should.”

“I don’t.”

“I thought princesses were supposed be sweet and biddable.”

“Princesses, perhaps. But remember, I’m nearly a queen.”

He groaned. “Bloody, bloody hell. I hadn’t made that leap in logic yet.”

She grinned at him. “Oh, in that case, just to warn you, puppies grow up to become dogs.”

With a quick movement, he caught her hands and pinned them over her head, poising himself over her. “Then I’d better have my way with you before you get even further out of my reach.”

His words carved gashes in her heart, but not as deep as the knowledge that she couldn’t contradict them. So she rubbed her hips against his. “Distance doesn’t seem to be a problem right now.”

His lips quirked for a brief second before descending onto hers. His lips were fierce. And thorough. Oh so thorough.

After exploring her mouth, his lips moved onto her neck, then downward to the neckline of her gown—which was blessedly low this morning.

He released her arms so that his hand could caress her breast. She moaned at the sensations inspired by his fingers.

“Tell me.” His voice was low and hoarse. “Tell me how you feel.”

“You make me forget about being a princess. You make me care only about being a woman. I’ve never had that before.”

Ian’s breath was hot against her neck, and he tightened as if fighting for control.

“More. I need more to take with me.” His intensity only fed her arousal.

How could she put this in words? “Like pleasure has replaced my blood. Like I’m being strung tighter and tighter until I might splinter.”

He skimmed his lips along her collarbone, wandering to explore the hollows above and below it. “Greedy, greedy woman. You already had a country, did you have to take my soul, too?”

She pressed his jacket off his shoulders. It tangled around his elbows until he paused to remove it. “Do I have it?”

“Completely.”

Her hands clenched in the sheets next to her—or not the sheets—the dress. The fact only registered because one of the buttons dug into her hand.

She closed her eyes tightly trying to regain control of herself. “We’re in Abington’s room. He will be here at any moment.”

Ian swore and scooted off her. He stood, but then sat back down on the bed with a thump. His head in his hands. “I’m so far past sanity that I cannot even stand.”

That’s how she felt, too, but she sat up and placed her hand on his shoulder. He covered her fingers with his own and just held her there until their breathing returned to normal.

“Remind me why I invited Abington to his room?” he finally asked.

“Because you thought you’d need help carrying me kicking and screaming from the castle?” She lifted a hand to her hair, but luckily, Apple’s pins had held fast.

She stood so that they wouldn’t be found together in bed. Ian apparently trusted the other man, but some gossip might just be too good to withhold.

“He would have done it, too. The man is overprotective of females to a fault. Too bad he is jug-bit so much of the time.”

“I prefer to say that I bit the jug, not that the jug bit me. Or better yet—foxed. That has a rather proper aristocratic ring to it.” Abington strolled into the room. “And I don’t protect all women.” He grinned at Juliana. “Just the pretty ones.”

Ian snorted. “And the ugly ones and the old ones.”

Abington raised a brow. “I’m flattered that you pay so much attention to me.”

“Your strutting makes you rather hard to avoid.”

Abington shrugged. “I
am
a duke.” He spoke to Juliana in an exaggerated whisper. “Commoners just don’t understand these things.

Ian’s face grew pensive. “Indeed. Now we should focus on how to catch the other duke in residence.”

“We still need the papers,” Juliana said.

Ian nodded. “When does the hunt return?”

Abington shook his head. “Before luncheon, but Sommet didn’t depart with the other men. He claimed his leg was paining him.”

“Nice to know we’re making him too nervous to leave the house,” Ian said.

“But if he’s missed the hunt, he’ll need to make an appearance at archery later this afternoon,” said Juliana.

Ian rose and folded the servant’s dress from the bed. “Which is when we’ll move.” He paused. “And when I say
we
, I mean me.”

Juliana stilled. “I thought we agreed to work together.”

“We will. You’ll pray most earnestly on my behalf. And Abington will distract the duke with his stellar wit.”

“Pray?” Juliana asked through clenched teeth.

“Unless you prefer something else. You could meditate, perhaps?”

Abington pulled a silver flask from his coat but then put it away when Ian glared at him. “I’m coming with you. Glavenstroke did give me the mission, after all.”

Ian shrugged. “Suit yourself. Just keep in mind that Sommet
is
actively trying to kill me.”

“
He
can go?” Juliana protested, but she could hear the tremble in her voice and hated that her fear for Ian was so near the surface.

“
He
is a spy.”

Abington frowned. “That’s not meant to be common knowledge.”

Ian grinned, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Sorry, chap. I’m about as common as they come.”

“If Abington is with you,” Juliana said. “You’ll need someone to distract Sommet.”

Ian’s grin disappeared. “Not you.”

“You are going into the lair of a man who you admit wants you dead. I’ll do whatever I can to remove as much danger as possible.”

“By putting yourself in it?”

“You’re doing the same thing.”

“But I am expendable.” Ian’s words were harsh. He spun away from her, tension tight in his shoulders.

Was that truly what he thought?

She wanted to go to him and catch him by the shoulders. She wanted to look him in the eye and tell him just how much of a lie that was.

Yet as carefree as he pretended to be, she knew he wouldn’t care for her drawing attention to his weakness in front of Abington.

“You will hate me forever,” Abington said. “But I must point out La Petit bore that role many times.”

“Juliana is not La Petit.”

Juliana was fairly sure that wasn’t a point in her favor.

“T
here are three footmen guarding the stairs,” Abington reported when he returned to his rooms.

“That is a rather insultingly low number.” But it matched what Ian had glimpsed in passing. “I checked with the butler. He’s shorthanded because Sommet assigned seven of his footmen elsewhere. That leaves us with four elsewhere in the tower, including Sommet’s pet pugilist.”

“He has a pet pugilist?”

Ian explained about the man Sommet normally had guarding the stairs. “But he’s not there now, so I can only assume—”

“He’s guarding something more important.”

“Exactly,” Ian said. He resisted the urge to check the clock again. Juliana wouldn’t be with the duke yet. She was going to check on her brother.

“So how do you plan to get past the footmen?”

“Quite easily.”

Abington grimaced. “And people think
I
am arrogant.”

Ian shrugged. A supply of swagger hid many shortcomings. Far too many. Gads. He’d thought more about his failings in the past week than he had since he was seven years old. And he had no one to blame but himself and the foolish dreams he should know better than to have.

“So why does Sommet want the Trio dead?” Abington asked.

Ian checked his daggers and secured a length of rope around his waist. “We know too much. We’re a liability.”

“To whom? What knowledge do you have that he wants to protect? You never ran any missions for him.”

“We ran several, including our first.”

Abington looked at him oddly. “No. Glavenstroke was the only one to give you orders. No one else wanted to be associated with you in case you failed miserably.”

“We were ordered to topple a country.” Juliana’s. “I think I remember it rather clearly.”

Abington frowned. “I read your files. Your first mission was Salamanca.”

“You read our files?”

Abington shrugged. “Several times. Haven’t you?”

Ian felt like a chub. He’d assumed he knew what was in them. And he knew better than to assume anything. “They must have decided to leave it out of the records.”

“Glavenstroke?” Abington’s disbelief was clear. “You were his favorite creation. He probably wrote down when you pissed.”

An unsettled cold began to form in Ian’s stomach. “Then perhaps Sommet ordered him not to record it.”

“Perhaps,” Abington said, but his gaze was clearly disbelieving.

Ian tried to recall every detail he could about his first mission. They’d received the orders from one of the approved couriers. They’d never thought to question it.

Twelve years and he still had never thought to question it.

Ian wanted to brain himself with the chamber pot. Glaves hadn’t been sarcastic when he’d asked about Lenoria earlier; he’d had no clue what Ian was speaking of.

Ian braced his fist against the wall.

Sweet mercy, what had he done? He wasn’t one to believe in higher powers but he was tempted to pray now. Juliana had forgiven him his role because he’d been following orders. How would she feel knowing he’d been tricked?