The Secret Life of Lady Lucinda (32 page)

A hand grabbed her arm, startling her, and she looked up to find that it was the sultan’s guard, and that he was trying to lead her away. The sultan had said that he would return her to her family. From what she’d gathered, he’d not only known her parents but had also considered her father a friend. Perhaps there was still hope then? She felt it flicker to life inside her, like a fragile little flame.

Her thoughts went to William, and as she placed one foot in front of the other and began to walk, she wondered what he might say when she returned to England, wondered once more if the reason why he hadn’t come for her was because he’d been unable to find her or because he simply didn’t care about her enough. The uncertainty gnawed at her heart, for she loved him with such desperation that she knew it would destroy her if she discovered that he did not feel the same about her. And yet, she reminded herself that she was probably hoping for too much. William had never been anything but honest with her, while she, on the other hand, had repeatedly lied. She sighed heavily as she stepped inside the awaiting carriage and turned to look out of the window. She had no desire for conversation right now, not even with the men who had saved her.

The ride back to the palace was short. When they arrived, the steps were set down and the sultan and his guard stepped out, the guard reaching up his hand to help her down. She allowed his kindness, but she did not smile as she placed her hand in his and began to alight, realizing then that she was incapable of any sensation right now. It was almost as if she was floating somewhere above her body, but as strange as it felt, she did not try to force it away, for she knew that it was protecting her from the onslaught of emotions that threatened to attack at any given moment.

“Mon ami,”
the sultan said, addressing his guard as soon as they’d stepped inside the palace walls. “Lucinda Hakim ought to be taken to the harem until she is ready to depart for England, but under the circumstances…and in light of the fact that you saved my life today…we will make an exception to this rule.”

The guard said nothing but merely bowed his head as if to say thank you. Lucy was puzzled. She’d thought the man to be nothing more than a servant, but the way in which the sultan spoke to him—the way he addressed him as a friend—was really quite odd. And why would the sultan make an exception about the harem because he’d saved his life? It all seemed so confusing.

“Follow Amir. He will direct you to a suite of rooms that have been made available.” He paused as he looked at Lucy, and his lips drew upward into a kind and gentle smile. “Guard her well,
mon ami
, for she truly is a ravishing beauty.”

“I shall protect her with my life,” the guard muttered, bowing once again before giving her a light tug on the arm to indicate that she should follow.

Lucy didn’t know what to make of it all. Should she feel frightened or comforted by what was going on? The sultan had said nothing about when or how he would facilitate her passage back to England. Based on his interaction with the man who was now accompanying her, she assumed that he would be traveling with her as some sort of protector.

The servant whom the sultan had referred to as Amir arrived at a beautifully carved door that arched into a sharp point at the top. He opened it and stepped aside, gesturing for Lucy to enter. With a small breath of apprehension, she moved forward, her eyes widening at the opulence of what she saw. What a change from the small and simple room that Stanton had kept her locked away in. This was so incredibly lavish by comparison, with piles of fluffy cushions in rich silks and velvets, beckoning for someone to sit or lie upon them. Rugs in vivid displays of pattern and color brightened the floors. The windows stood open, their soft, veil curtains drifting back and forth with whispery airiness. There were low tables with brass trays carrying fruit bowls and wine glasses upon them, each with its own intricate design carved into it.

“Is it to your liking?” A deep voice rumbled from behind her.

“It’s incredible,” she muttered, stepping further into the sanctuary and looking around at all the details. A moment passed, and then she realized something. The question and her answer had not been spoken in French. She paused, hesitated, and then turned around to face the guard who was quietly standing a few paces away and regarding her. “You speak English?”

He nodded, and she breathed a sigh of relief—not because she didn’t speak French fluently, but because there was something very comforting about being able to converse in her native tongue. She studied him for a moment and was just about to ask how long it would be before they traveled when he stepped toward her instead and pulled her into a tight, and very unexpected, embrace. “What…”

“I’ve missed you so terribly much, Lucy.”

His voice was a low murmur, but it was also familiar. So was the body that she was being pressed against, she realized. She loved that voice and that body—had missed them both so terribly much these past six weeks. “William?” It seemed impossible, ridiculous even, given the way the man who was holding her looked. And yet she knew it to be true, and as her mind registered the facts, her arms circled around his chest to hug him against her with all her might. He’d come for her after all and had saved her. Tears welled in her eyes, and she allowed them to fall.

“I’ve been so worried about you, Lucy,” he whispered against her hair. “I’m sorry it took so long, but we lost track of you and…Bloody hell.” She heard his voice falter and choke and knew that he was crying too. He cared about her…more than she had ever dared believe.

“We?” she suddenly asked, frowning a little as she eased away from him so she could look into his eyes. He looked strange and unfamiliar with the beard he was wearing, and she reached up and gave it a gentle tug. “Does this come off?”

He grinned a little, lifted his own hand, and began pulling it away, revealing the handsome face that she loved so dearly. “Ryan and Trenton are here too—couldn’t have kept them away if I tried.” The beard came away with one last tug, and he began unraveling his turban until the fabric was in a heap on the floor.

Lucy’s heart drummed in her chest as he pulled her toward him once more, that same familiar heat diving beneath her skin. Her breath caught and her stomach fluttered with expectation as her hands swept over the well-defined muscles of his back, and then he finally lowered his mouth to hers, sweeping her off her feet. It was a kiss unlike any other that they’d ever shared before—full of longing, hope, and love. It was rough, and it was desperate, but it spoke volumes about their feelings for each other.

“Lucy,” he murmured as he kissed his way toward her neck. “I love you so very, very much.” He pulled back a little, and as she met his gaze, she saw the truth behind his words, and her heart swelled with happiness. He wiped his thumb across her cheek, and she realized that she was once again crying. “I was a fool not to tell you sooner, but I thought we had time…I thought I could keep you safe, protect you. I’m so sorry that this happened to you.”

“Things didn’t exactly turn out the way we’d expected, did they?” She gave him a sad little laugh. “But the important thing is that I love you more than words can say, William, although I must admit that I’d begun to doubt that you would come. I’m sorry.”

“I would probably have been skeptical too if I was you. It took much longer than I had anticipated.” He pulled her back against him and kissed the top of her head.

“None of that matters anymore.” She nuzzled her face against his chest, inhaling the rich, musky scent of him. “Right now, all I want to do is forget. Will you please help me?”

It was clear that he knew her meaning, for his mouth closed over hers once more, and his tongue swept inside to tangle with hers. So lost was she in the heat of the moment that she didn’t even realize that she’d been picked up off the floor until she found herself being settled upon the bed. And while he undressed her, William never stopped kissing. He kissed her cheeks and her jawline, the curve of her neck and her collarbone. His kisses scorched her chest while her fingers raked through his hair.

Before she knew it, her clothes were completely gone, and a moment later, so were his. She wanted to stop for a moment to look at him, but he kept on worshiping her with his mouth, and as his tongue swept across one of her nipples, she knew that looking at him would have to wait. She was lost now and could think of nothing but the feel of his body against hers, the touch of his fingers as they drifted over her hips. And as he gently nudged her legs apart and kissed his way along her inner thighs, she could not stop herself from rising to meet him. This was heaven—complete and utter bliss.

That devilish tongue of his swept over her in slow, easy strokes, stoking a fire within her so furious that she thought she’d surely burst. He stopped, denying her release, and rose over her until he was staring down at her with adoration in his eyes. He said nothing, but the look upon his face spoke volumes about his love for her as he carefully eased himself inside her. And then it was gone, replaced by lust and the same burning need that she could feel swimming through her own veins. She wrapped her legs around him, forcing him closer and urging him to move—slowly at first and then with faster and harder thrusts.

“Lucy,” he muttered, his voice was low and guttural, “I can’t…I mean, I don’t…Christ, Lucy, I’m about to…”

“Me too,” she said, panting for breath as the first tingles began to rise up her legs. They trickled through her and settled in her groin, intensifying and expanding until they finally shattered on a burst of energy. A groan of pleasure escaped her lips at the same time as it did from his, the tremors of passion rippling through both of their bodies.

As their breathing slowed and their bodies returned to a calmer, more sedate state of being, William rolled to the side and pulled her up against his chest, hugging her against himself with an arm and a leg. “You’re just as eager as I remember,” he said, chuckling against her hair, sweeping it aside a little so he could kiss her neck.

“Mmm…I missed this, William. I missed us. It will be good to get home again, so we can do this more often.”

“How often are you thinking?” His voice was teasing in her ear.

She smiled but knew he couldn’t see it, so she added a coquettish ring to her voice instead. “At least once a day, my lord, perhaps even more.”

“More?” He spoke in a near growl, and she knew that she’d just stoked his desire again. His hand trailed over her stomach and down toward the soft curls between her legs.

She turned onto her back and reached for him. “I believe my appetite for this…ahem, activity…has become quite insatiable.”

With a bark of laughter, he rolled on top of her. “It seems I have my work cut out for me, my dear, but to tell the truth,” he said as he lowered his head and kissed her gently on the tip of her nose, “nothing in the world gives me greater pleasure than pleasuring you.”

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-
E
IGHT

“D
o you really think that the sultan helped my father procure this pendant for my mother?” Lucy asked as she lay wrapped in William’s arms after yet another bout of lovemaking.

He ran his fingers slowly up and down her arm, watching as her fingers brushed against the gold heart that lay nestled at the base of her throat. “I’ve no idea,” he told her honestly. “We can ask him if you like. In any case, we probably should rise. I’m certain that both Ryan and Trenton are quit eager to see you again.”

Lucy nodded, then bit down on her lower lip as if she was contemplating saying something more. William didn’t press her, and after a couple of minutes, she turned her head enough to meet his gaze. “I found out who’s behind all of this,” she said. There was a sadness to her voice that was mirrored in her eyes, and it immediately had William on alert. He frowned but again said nothing, though his hand had paused its playful movement, forgotten as suspense took over. “Stanton told me that it was my uncle. I can’t prove it of course, so he’ll probably get away with it. I just…”

“Shh…” he whispered, spotting the tears in her eyes and pulling her closer in a tight embrace. He hated seeing her so miserable. “I’m sorry to hear it, Lucy. We’ll think of a way in which to make him pay for what he did.”

“How?” Her voice was desperate. “We can’t just march into his home and accuse him of murder. He’ll only deny it and have us escorted out. There’s no evidence.”

It was a difficult situation, to be sure, but William was not about to give up so easily. He wanted Lucy to be happy—or at least as happy as she would ever be. There was no doubt that she would always be haunted by the memory of what had happened and by the knowledge that her closest living relative betrayed all of them for material gain. It would definitely be a difficult burden to bear, but perhaps it would be easier for her to move on with her life if she knew that justice had been served. It was a hope worth fighting for. “Come,” he told her as he sat up and swung his long legs over the side of the bed. “Let’s dress. We have a great deal to discuss with Mahmud if we are to return to England before Christmas.”

Lucy frowned. “Christmas? I’ve had no sense of time here. After everything that’s happened, it would be lovely to celebrate the holidays in our own home.”

“Then you’d better get a move on,” he said with a grin as he walked across to some clothes that had been neatly laid out on one of the divans. His shirt, jacket, and breeches were there, along with a pretty, white cotton gown intended for Lucy. He held it up for her to see, noticing the way her lips curved into a warm and appreciative smile. There was no question that she would be happy to abandon the cropped top and şalvar trousers forever.

As soon as they were both dressed and William had helped Lucy fashion her hair into something that didn’t reveal their recent activities too much, he opened the door to their room and found Amir waiting for them. He immediately wondered how long Mahmud’s servant had been standing there but decided not to dwell on it. “His majesty awaits,” Amir said as he gave William a small bow.
“Suivez-moi.”
He then started down the corridor while William reached for Lucy’s hand, settling it in the crook of his arm so he could escort her like a proper English gentleman.

They followed Amir for what seemed like an eternity through vast rooms and across two courtyards until they were led out onto a large balcony that had been shaded by a canopy. It was mid-October, but the Mediterranean sun still shone brightly in the sky, warming the air to a pleasant enough temperature. Looking around, William spotted his brother, Trenton, and Mahmud, already seated on cushions upon the ground, and with a low, square table between them. They immediately got up to greet Lucy, Ryan ignoring all etiquette as he gathered her up in a tight embrace. “We were so worried about you,” he said. Trenton, standing a little to the side, blinked, and William hid a smile. There was something heartwarming about the otherwise serious earl forcing back a tear or two, though William was not about to say as much; he’d likely earn himself a beating if he did.

“Please,” Mahmud spoke, gesturing toward the table that stood ready with a vast meal upon it, “let us celebrate with a feast.”

They each took their seats and allowed a couple of servant girls to fill their glasses with wine. “Thank you for your help, Your Majesty,” Lucy said after taking a sip in response to a toast made by Mahmud. Her voice was soft and meek. “You have been most kind toward all of us.”

“It was the least I could do,” Mahmud replied with a note of sympathy to his voice. “I considered your father a friend. And to think of what that beast did…I am glad that there has been put an end to him.”

“I was wondering…” Lucy’s voice was hesitant. “You said that you recognized my pendant because it was a special order item that you helped my father obtain. Is that true? For some reason I thought my mother had it long before we even came here.”

Mahmud chuckled as he placed a pancake upon his plate and began pouring honey on top of it. He shook his head and reached for some chopped almonds. “Your memory is correct. Your mother already had the pendant when I first met her, but Lord Stanton had no way of knowing this, so I set out to deceive him in the hopes that he would make a mistake.” He folded the pancake neatly around the honey and almonds. “You must agree that my plan worked out quite well.”

William stared at Mahmud as it all began to make sense. “You wanted him dead.”

“Like I said, it would have been difficult to convict him without proof. I certainly couldn’t have allowed you to kill him without punishing you as well, unless of course you had good reason to act. I merely nudged things along a little, and once he threatened my life…Well, nobody will begrudge you your actions,
mon ami
.”

“But you could have been killed yourself,” Lucy said in a voice of pure and utter amazement while Ryan and Trenton both appeared dumbfounded.

“A chance I was willing to take,” Mahmud assured her, “though I had every confidence in your husband’s ability to act swiftly. Say what you want, William, but you were desperate for Stanton’s head. The only thing you needed was an excuse, which you were given. Shall we leave it at that?”

William blinked. He hadn’t realized how shrewd Mahmud could be until now and found himself admiring his strategy. “Perhaps it is our turn to bluff,” he muttered as he picked up a slice of melon and bit into it, savoring the sweet, juicy flavor. His eyes found Lucy’s. “I think I’ve just figured out how to get your uncle convicted. We don’t need proof, Lucy. We just need to convince him that what we’re saying is true.”

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-
N
INE

England, December 22, 1817

Two miles from Hampstead House

“T
ry to relax,” William said as the carriage rocked back and forth on the uneven road. “It will all be over soon.”

Lucy drew a quivering breath. “My stomach is in uproar, William. I’m so nervous that I fear I may be ill at any moment.”

“Shall I ask the driver to stop for a while so you can get some fresh air? It might help.”

“No.” Lucy shook her head. She pulled the heavy blanket further up around herself. “The sooner we get out of this cold, the better.”

William nodded and pulled her closer against himself, hoping to offer her a little warmth. A thin layer of snow had settled upon the landscape all around them—a scenery quite different to what they’d left behind in Constantinople only a few weeks earlier. He was now plagued by frost biting at his toes and could only wonder how Lucy must be feeling with her much thinner slippers. They really should have stopped by Moorland on the way, but Lucy had insisted on having the matter pertaining to her uncle settled immediately so it wouldn’t be hanging over their heads for Christmas.

Instead, William had sent Ryan to Moorland in order to inform their father and the servants of their imminent arrival. Trenton had parted ways a little later, eager to return to Whickham Hall, where they all knew that Alexandra would be anxiously waiting, forever worrying about her husband’s safety.

Another carriage carrying the local constable followed behind them. William had stopped in town to have a word with him while Lucy had remained in the landau. He’d explained the situation as quickly as possible, adding that they lacked the proof that would be required in order to make an arrest, but that they hoped to obtain a confession, and that it might be prudent for the man to accompany them. The hundred pound note he’d offered (not as a bribe, of course, but as means of payment) had probably helped as well, he thought with a wry smile as Hampstead House came into view in the distance. It was similar in size to Moorland Manor, but the architecture appeared more austere and foreboding—not at all the sort of place that he would have envisioned Lucy growing up in.

He squeezed her hand to offer some measure of comfort, for he could feel her trembling against him, and while it might as easily have been from the cold, he sensed that it was more likely because she would soon come face to face with her treacherous uncle. “Don’t let him unnerve you, my love,” he whispered against the crown of her head. “You’re stronger than he is, and you’re not alone.”

Rolling up to the front steps of the house, the carriage came to a complete stop, and William gave Lucy a quick kiss of reassurance before the door was opened by the driver and the steps set down. William quickly alighted, his boots squeaking in the snow as he turned to assist Lucy. A moment later, they were both heading toward the front door, accompanied by the constable who trailed a few paces behind.