Temptation & Twilight (29 page)

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of the young laird. In his place was a man made of stone.

A statue as cold as marble and as immovable as granite.” What precious little Iain had managed to salvage of his soul after he’d had his mother banished, his father had swiftly destroyed, leaving him an empty shell. A devil in human flesh.

“You are his image, I am told. Cruel. Cold. Selfish.

Bent on getting your wishes whatever the costs or col-lateral damage.”

Yes, he was, but he was trying damn hard to change that. To be the man he desired to be, not the replica of his father.

“Well?” Sheldon demanded.

“Someone has been very chatty, I see. But it hardly matters. Maladjusted families are a dime a dozen in the ton. It hardly signifies anything. Besides, I could have told you that I was a merciless, coldhearted bastard and saved you the trouble. Who told you?” he asked, wondering how Sheldon had come by it all.

“You have very shoddy locks on your study windows.”

“You bloody bastard.” Iain bolted from his chair, and the earl rose to meet him.

“We are even, aren’t we? Don’t bother to deny it. I know you broke into my study last night. I could smell it—Elizabeth. The scent is on you now. The same scent that marked the air last night.” Suddenly, Iain was terrified for Elizabeth. What if Sheldon was truly their enemy? What would he do to her? “What are you hiding, Sheldon?”

“I would ask the same question of you, Alynwick.

What do you hide, and Sussex? And Lord Black, for that matter?”

“Go to hell!”

“I found it, you know. Your boyhood journal. Who BOUND GALLEY EDITION March 23, 2012

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knew you were the sort to pour your soul into a book? I thought you more the type to lash out with your fists and smash things. Heartbreaking, really, reading it all. Although it made me understand the man—how you turned into an unfeeling brute.”

Panic raced through him. Unable to burn it, he had hidden that journal beneath the floorboards of his bedroom. Not too far from the scroll his family had been entrusted to keep safe for all eternity. Had Sheldon found that, too?

“Your name, Sinclair. It is really St. Clair, isn’t it?”

“Of course not.” The hairs on his neck stood straight up. Who
was
Sheldon?

“I researched it, you know. At the museum. I traced a Templar out of Jerusalem, a Haelan St. Clair. He fled to his native Scotland, where he was a chieftain of the Clan St. Clair. For some reason he garnered the notice and generosity of the king. He was given the title of Alynwick. At the same time, the clan of St. Clair quietly changed their name to Sinclair, a bastardization started by the English, but used for convenience and secrecy.

But why, it’s not known.”

To keep the clan safe from those who wanted Haelan
St. Clair persecuted. To protect the scroll and the Brethren Guardians so no one could follow their trail from
Jerusalem.

“You are the direct descendant of Haelan St. Clair.” Iain saw no reason to deny it. It would only make Sheldon want to dig deeper. “Aye. I am. It was over seven hundred years ago. What significance is it now?” Sheldon glanced down at the elevation drawing on his desk, his gaze lingering over the Templar cross and the Lorraine cross emblazoned there. “Haelan St. Clair BOUND GALLEY EDITION March 23, 2012

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was a Templar knight who was charged with the task of protecting a sacred relic from the Ark of the Covenant.” Iain fought to maintain control, at least the outward appearance of it. Damn it, Sheldon had stepped much too close to their little group, and the history of the Guardians. Dangerous man, the earl was.

“I hardly believe in medieval stories of chivalry, and I have no use for religion. Besides, I didn’t come here to talk of Templars and ancestors long since turned to dust.

I came to tell you that if you see Elizabeth again, you’ll be putting your life in danger. Do you understand me?”

“I genuinely care for her.”

“I genuinely don’t give a damn.”

“My interest in her is noble, honest. I would make her my wife. Are you suggesting that your motives are as pure?”

“I do not suggest anything. I state. And you can be damned sure that my intentions are my own, and I won’t let anything stand in the way of them. You’ve been warned, Sheldon,” Iain growled, pointing his finger at him. “Carry on with your dig, and whatever else you’re trying to unlock, but leave Elizabeth alone.” He turned to leave, pulled violently on the door and yanked it open, stopping only when he heard Sheldon call his name. “You know, Alynwick, if she really wanted you, she would be yours. But she’s not, is she?”

“Sod off.”

“I won’t fight over her like two rabid dogs. I won’t do her the disservice. I’m man enough to allow her to decide for herself. Are you?”

Slamming the door shut, Iain fumed all the way down the hall. Bloody, arrogant ass. He’d love to rip the prat’s head off and feed it to his dog!

BOUND GALLEY EDITION March 23, 2012

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IF SHE REALLY WANTED YOU, she would be yours….

Smarting at Sheldon’s words, Iain viciously tugged at the ends of his tie.
If she really wanted you…

She did, damn it. He had felt that desire in her body.

But Elizabeth’s desire wasn’t all he wanted from her. He wanted her heart. Her love.

Damn Sheldon for finely dissecting his emotions and shoving them down his throat. He should have been furious —and frightened by the ease with which the earl had discovered all he had about him and the Templars.

That, far above anything else, should have made him feel this violent. But that was far back in his mind now.

Clouded by everything Elizabeth. At least Sheldon had not found the scroll. That had been the first thing Iain had checked on upon returning home.

“You are in a fine mood this evening,” Sutherland observed.

“I’m miserable, aye,” Iain grunted as he drank a long swallow of whisky. “Bloody miserable. You’d be, too, if you had to face an evening like the one I’m about to.”

“Then why do you do it, allow the Lady Larabie to come to you?”

“Because I must. More than my soul rests on her knowledge of Orpheus. The lives of those I love and care most about are relying on me to find a way to discover all I can about our enemy. Lady Larabie claims a personal friendship with Orpheus. She dangled the car-rot of introducing me to him, and I’ve taken the bite.”

“Is there no other way to find the man?”

“No. He’s a damn magician, popping up when he desires, and hiding more often than not. Georgiana has promised an introduction, and that’s all I need to assess our enemy and make plans to destroy him. I need a face to the name, and without her help, we can’t get close to BOUND GALLEY EDITION March 23, 2012

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him. It’s not as though he wanders about his club, sur-veying the wickedness that goes on there. He hides, and it’s only through Lady Larabie that I can corner him. In truth, she has me by the bollocks.”

“She’s taken what little of your soul remains, I think.” Tired, Iain sighed, finished off his drink and placed the glass firmly upon his desk. “Don’t I know it. You’re dismissed for the evening, Sutherland.” He only wished he could so easily dismiss the events of an hour ago, when he’d confronted Sheldon in his lair.

“My lord—”

“Don’t.” He held up his hand. “I know what I’m doing.

It’s not like I haven’t entertained a woman for my own motives before. In that, Sutherland, I’m not a novice.” Turning his back on his valet, Iain made his way to the salon, where the lady with the black veil sat awaiting him. For some reason, looking at the veil reminded him of Elizabeth’s Veiled Lady, and the diary he needed to pull out of its hiding place.

“Forgive me, I was finishing up business.” Folding the veil over her bonnet, Georgiana rose, greeting him with the sleek smile of a cat. “I have missed you between my thighs, my Highland beast.” He was nothing but a rutting animal to her. A stud to pleasure her. So far, she’d gotten far more out of him than he had her. He took no pleasure in her, their passion, their bed sport. He would not do so again. No matter what she did, or pleaded with him to do. He had vowed to himself that he would get Elizabeth back, and he would. Goddamn it, he would. And he would not soil his heart and soul—and body—with this creature before he did so. He would not come to Elizabeth dirty.

“Undress me,” Georgiana ordered, coming to him, BOUND GALLEY EDITION March 23, 2012

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running her hands over his chest. “I want you to take me on the settee, then your desk…in a chair by the fire.” Closing his eyes, he pretended that her touch inflamed him, when really he sought to hide the revulsion in his eyes. He didn’t want this. Not Georgiana, not this mindless act. Not after what he’d shared with Elizabeth. He still felt the embrace, the feel of her in his arms, the heat of her core wrapping around his fingers. There had been more in those shared minutes than there would be with hours spent fornicating with Georgiana.

“Your arm,” she purred, and he heard very little genuine sympathy. “I hope it’s up to the task tonight?”

“That, and another most important appendage.” Her eyes glowed with delight. Hiding a wince, he moved her away from him. Her perfume was cloying, choking him. Lord, he needed another drink. He noticed she wore the ring that Larabie had purchased for her. It made him think of the necklace he had placed on his dressing table. He’d watched it in the gaslight as Sutherland shaved him, imagining what it would look like en-circling Elizabeth’s throat.

He wanted to make love to her with her wearing nothing but that necklace.

“Already so hard,” Georgiana gasped, stroking him.

“That’s what I adore about you, Alynwick. You’re always up for it.”

It was time to push for what he wanted, and he wouldn’t get it by playing coy games any longer. It was time to be the beast that Georgiana was so fond of.

He allowed her to stroke him, pulled her closer and looked into her eyes, challenging her.

“Yes?”

He tugged her even nearer, pressed her against the wall, crushing her against it, his body pressing into her BOUND GALLEY EDITION March 23, 2012

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back so she could not see the lie in his eyes. “I want to fuck you,” he breathed hard against her neck, “tonight, at the club, with everyone watching us. With all eyes on you and me.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” she murmured, her body trembling in desire. “Let us be off—quickly.” ORPHEUS WATCHED HIM through the throngs of bodies that writhed at his feet. Alynwick was there, a woman tugging him along. He would stay and watch the show, for Alynwick’s lover was quite lovely and, he knew from experience, fucked like a succubus. He wanted to watch the Scot handle her, to match her—break her, even. Another time he might have joined them, but he was not quite ready to meet the Scot. Not yet. Soon. He was preparing to meet them all and send them to hell.

His rightful place in the world was returning to him.

There was just one small matter to see to. Elizabeth York.

He laughed, rose from his chair, then skimmed his hand appreciatively along a woman’s breast. She had been waiting for him, trying to catch his attention, but unlike Alynwick, he was not ruled by his cock.

“Lovely,” he murmured. “Really, rather perfect. But, next time.”

He patted her and brushed beyond her, thinking of how pleasurable it was going to be to watch the mighty Marquis of Alynwick fall to pieces when he gutted Elizabeth from throat to muff, and let her fall to Alynwick’s feet, her life’s blood pooling, flowing….

YEARS AGO, when Iain had been trying to drink and fuck himself into oblivion, the House of Orpheus would have been his home. It was everything the depraved Alynwick BOUND GALLEY EDITION March 23, 2012

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would have desired. He would have lost himself here, allowed himself to drown in the debauchery, to die in sin.

Women of all shapes, sizes and colors paraded about, wearing nothing but masks to shield their identities. The club was filled with a decadent, opulent feeling, a glittering essence that made the debauchery seem somehow more elegant and erotic.

Perhaps it was only the heavy incense filling the room that made him think such things. The aroma was sweet.

Heady. Opium? Whatever it was, it made him relax a measure, made the air and his blood thick, sluggish.

Leading him through the orgy, which appeared to be in full swing, Georgiana tugged at his hand and gazed back at him over her shoulder, her eyes glowing with sexual intent, the promise of meeting Orpheus a seductive lure she had cast for Iain to follow her from the carriage to the club.

He was not even hard. And he didn’t plan on becoming so, either. He had only one purpose in coming to the club, and it was not to dally with Georgiana, despite the promise in her eyes.

“Here,” she murmured, stopping him. They were near a corner furnished with pillows and mats. It was not the center of attention, but could very well be, with the silk hangings and pillows. Georgiana, it seemed, was intent on making it so. She had discarded her cloak and was now unbuttoning the gold gown she wore. The cleft of her breasts came into view, and from the corner of his eye, he saw another masked gentleman stop kissing a woman, only to leer at Georgiana as she slowly disrobed.

“It looks like you will have to fight for me,” she cooed as the gown slipped to the floor and she stepped out of it, completely naked and kissed by the glow of the candles that surrounded them.