Temptation & Twilight (30 page)

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He can bloody well have you,
Iain thought with disgust.

“Lovely creature,” the man all but panted as he watched her sultry, catlike moves.

With a detached eye, Iain watched Georgiana’s sensu-ous progression toward him. He could not help but think of his fantasy—of Elizabeth naked, crawling to him—

and comparing the two. What a remarkable difference.

Elizabeth’s generous curves and welcome aroused him like nothing ever had. Especially Georgiana’s overt sexuality. Iain realized he much preferred Elizabeth’s angelic veneer, which hid so much passion. If only he could make her feel safe enough with him to release it.

The man was now on his knees, his arms wrapped around Georgiana’s calf, his hands smoothing up over her slim thigh, mouth wandering wantonly over the flesh.

Her fingers slid into the man’s hair, almost patting him like a dog as her gaze locked with Iain’s.

“Ménage à trois?” she asked in her most seductive voice.

“I don’t share with other men.” He brushed past her, and she laughed, calling out to him, “Foolish man, you have all along.” Iain didn’t bother to stop and question her accusation.

She had been a means to an end. Nothing more. Georgiana could take whomever she wanted to her bed, because he was done with her. He was here, and somewhere in this place of hedonism, Orpheus was hiding. This had been the goal all along, the prize to be won after wooing Lady Larabie. This is what Alynwick had sold his soul for. He could no longer play the lady’s games. Couldn’t wait for Georgiana to deign to bring him to Orpheus. It was now, it had to be, because he could no longer go on selling himself to the woman.

Leaving the main room, Iain entered a dimly lit cor-BOUND GALLEY EDITION March 23, 2012

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ridor. The activities had already begun to spill out into the halls. His progress went unnoticed by the writhing bodies, unheard over the sounds of ecstasy. Turning left, he entered a corridor that was not lit by candles or gas lanterns. Obviously, the darkness was supposed to be a deterrent, but Iain had never been afraid of the dark.

Opening the first door, he saw it led to nothing but a bedchamber. A quick glance around told him it was part of the club’s erotic arsenal, not a private space belonging to Orpheus.

The next three chambers were much the same, except the last one held a particular scent, a man’s cologne. Someone had just been in this room. The moon was bright, spilling into the chamber from the window, affording Iain a small amount of light in which to search the space. The walls were panelled in a dark wood, the room furnished, but not in the same decadent way as the others. The cologne seemed stronger near the wall opposite the window and door. There wasn’t a table or chair, or desk, where someone might have sat. Nor was there a picture or mirror that they might have stood before. That could mean one thing.

Sliding his hands over the walls, Iain searched for any uneven panels, and was rewarded with the feel of a small metal lever. Carefully, quietly, he pulled it, and saw a portion of the panel give way, opening slowly with a soft groan of protest. The opening was not large, and he had to crouch to make it through. Straightening, he saw that he was no longer in the club, but a labyrinth of dimly lit halls.

Following the corridor, he had a sense that he was moving downward, each twist, each turn giving the impression of descent. He could hear the raucous cheers and laughter coming from the Adelphi Theatre, which was BOUND GALLEY EDITION March 23, 2012

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beneath the club, but in the same building, confirming his suspicions that he was, indeed, going down.

Ahead, he heard a door open, then quietly close. He walked faster, making certain his boots did not ring out on the wooden floors. Beyond the bend, doors lined both sides of the hall. He paused briefly at each one, seeking the lingering scent of cologne.

At the third door on the left the cologne was strongest.

There was something else as well, something musky and earthy—old. Cracking open the door, he saw a sliver of light, the back of a man with long black hair streaming over his shoulders. He was removing his evening jacket, reaching for a crimson banyan, which he shrugged into, knotting the sash tightly around his waist.

Nigel Lasseter.

Iain felt a rush of triumph. He had the bastard at last.

And by the looks of things, the way Lasseter moved through the secret parts of the club with ease and confidence, Nigel
was
Orpheus. The pieces of the puzzle began to snap into place. Nigel must have been using the wealth from the Templar cache he had stolen from Sheldon, and was now using the club as a cover. Clever bastard to recoup his expenses by creating an establishment that charged hefty dues to become a member. The risqué club was exactly the thing to attract the most bored in Society, which usually happened to be the richest.

The next piece that so easily fit was that Lasseter must have discovered the story of the Brethren Guardians, because he had unearthed the fact in Jerusalem, while excavating with Sheldon. And if Lasseter knew of them, then Sheldon must also.

Quietly, Iain moved forward, watched as Lasseter disappeared through another door, softly clicking it closed behind him.

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“I wouldn’t, guv.” Iain heard the cocking of a gun at the back of his head, just as he was about to step into the room. “Slowly now,” the thick, Cockney voice said smoothly. “Turn slowly with yer paws up.” Iain slowly turned to face his captor. His eyes widened in shock when he saw a second man with a gun pointed to the temple of none other than the Earl of Sheldon.

Sheldon’s eyes went almost as round as his, but he quickly shielded them from the interested gazes of the guards.

“Now what the devil are ye two up to, wanderin’ Mr.

Lasseter’s halls?”

“What does it look like?” Sheldon demanded in a very strange, sotto effeminate voice. “We were to meet up in private. Obviously, we took a wrong turn somewhere.” Sheldon’s eyes sent Iain the message that he had better play along, or they were both going to have their brains blasted out of their skulls.

“Were ye now?” The guard holding Sheldon looked amused and disgusted all at once.

Damn Sheldon for this ruse. Iain would rather fight and get it over with. But he supposed the earl’s idea was satisfactory—for now. Iain wanted the element of surprise when he cornered Lasseter, and tussling with his guards wasn’t conducive to an ambush. He just hoped that Lasseter couldn’t hear the commotion. Not that Iain couldn’t handle himself, but he preferred not to in front of Sheldon. He still didn’t trust the bastard, and finding him here, in Orpheus’s club, only made him more suspicious.

“Is that right?” the guard asked, pressing the barrel of the pistol into his flesh. “You have an assignation with this bloke?”

Iain cleared his throat. “Yes, an assignation.” No point beating about the bush. He did warn Sheldon that he BOUND GALLEY EDITION March 23, 2012

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didn’t insinuate, he stated. “You understand the circumstances, don’t you?”

The man with the gun poised between Iain’s eyebrows sneered. “Can’t says I do, guv. Unnatural, them urges.

But yer kind seems to have them enough.” Iain shrugged. “All that paddling from the school-masters. Changes a man.” He swore he heard Sheldon chuckle.

“Yeah, well, two big blokes like ye should be givin’

it to the ladies.”

“Yes, well,” Sheldon interjected in his ridiculous voice,

“we prefer the company of each other. Perhaps you might show us a back way out? As you said, quite unnatural, our relationship, and against the law, as a matter of fact.”

“No’ to mention the fact that my wife is in the main room. She has no idea of my…inclinations,” Iain provided.

“Is she now? Poor miss, I should take her in hand.”

“Crawley,” the other guard—the nervous one—

warned as he eyed Iain’s height and the breadth. “No need for offence.”

“Yer right. I could have a bit of skirt and muff whenever. But what these blokes ’ave, well, that don’t come too easy now, does it? How much for our silence and yer safe removal?” Iain’s guard demanded with cunning eyes.

The other guard motioned with his head to the chamber behind Iain. “We should take ’em to Lasseter.”

“They’re two flash boys bent on a bit of buggery. What the devil would Lasseter do with them, besides watch?” He chuckled. “Maybe you’d like that, eh? A third to yer party?”

“Ah, no,” Iain grunted, recognizing a chasm he did not want to explore.

“I’m rather shy,” Sheldon provided, seeing the same BOUND GALLEY EDITION March 23, 2012

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difficulty Iain did. “Doesn’t always work when I’m nervous, if you get my meaning?”

“Understand,” the man named Crawley leered. “Sometimes the mast just doesn’t want to rig up the flag.” This was becoming utterly ridiculous. “I have a hundred pounds on me now. Will that suffice?” Iain asked.

Crawley’s eyes lit with interest. “That’ll do.” After the transfer of money, the guard motioned both of them forward. “Hands on yer head, and follow my directions.”

Guns aimed at their vitals, the guards steered them down the long curving corridor, down a long flight of stairs to another door. Crawley fished in his pocket for a key ring and fitted an old-fashioned skeleton key into the lock. The door swung open and the cold night air swept in, raw and fierce in their faces.

“On ye go,” Crawley announced. “And don’t come back.”

The door slammed shut behind them, and Iain heard the key turning in the lock. They were in an alley, the same alley, he suspected, where Sutherland had witnessed Nigel Lasseter entering the Adelphi Theatre.

Turning his head, he studied Sheldon through the dim gaslight that filtered from the Strand. “I can beat the information I want out of you here, Sheldon, or we can take this someplace more civilized and a tad bit warmer.

Either way, you’re not leaving until I learn every damn secret you’re hiding.”

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IAIN SAT BEHIND HIS DESK, a large snifter of Scotch—his second—in his hand. Sheldon sat across from him, eyes watchful, but certainly not afraid.

“Why the hell did you come up with that particular ruse?” Iain said irritably.

Sheldon smiled at the memory, no doubt having a good laugh at Iain’s expense. “What is it that concerns you, Alynwick—that your reputation might suffer? I doubt the guards knew your identity, unless, of course, you frequent that establishment regularly?” Iain glared at the man, but Sheldon waved aside his ire. “I see you are in no mood for jests.”

“What was your first clue?” he growled.

“Well, it seemed to me to be the most expedient way of incurring their disgust and getting us out of their sight.

Plausible as well, considering what I saw in that main room.”

“Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“One of…those,” Iain muttered.

“Hell no!” Sheldon declared. “I’m a hot-blooded male who spends it on women, thank you very much.”

“Not on Elizabeth,” Iain said, staring down the earl.

Seeing that Sheldon understood his point, he relaxed a measure. “The question begged asking. You came up with BOUND GALLEY EDITION March 23, 2012

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the idea rather quickly, and your act was highly convincing. Done this sort of thing before, Sheldon?” The earl took a long swallow of Scotch, and Iain grinned when it made him cough. Aye, an effeminate, indeed.

“I suppose there’s no keeping anything from you now.”

“No, there’s not. So don’t bother to deny it. Your fate was sealed the second my eyes landed on you. I was going to have you, Sheldon, whether you desired it or not.” The man’s eyes lit with fury at the double entendre, which really was in poor taste, but which Iain found rather amusing, and still could not quite wrap his mind around. He’d played many parts over his lifetime, but never that of the aristocratic tosser.

“First and foremost, my lord,” the earl sneered, “let me make this understood. I quite adore women and have absolutely no designs nor interest in you. Or any other man, for that matter.”

“What a relief, Sheldon. Your act was so damn genuine that I began to wonder.”

“Well, don’t. No doubt that crafty mind of yours was already calculating that my interest in Elizabeth must be platonic, what with my proclivities, which naturally gives you the advantage.”

“It was leaning that way, yes.”

“Well, I hate to disappoint you. I am still very much interested in Elizabeth—in
that
way.”

“Bastard.”

Sheldon smiled, raising Iain’s ire. “But Sebastian de Montfort is a persona I frequently employ. He’s come in very useful over the years.”

“What?”

Reaching into his jacket pocket, Sheldon fished about, making Iain stiffen, wondering if the earl was going to BOUND GALLEY EDITION March 23, 2012

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pull a weapon on him. But instead, he tossed an object across the polished veneer of his desk.

“Detective Inspector Julian Wentworth.” Iain’s gaze flew to the silver crest of Scotland Yard, then back to Sheldon. Interesting… He had thought him many things, but never a detective. Iain didn’t know whether to be alarmed or relieved by the information.