Beth could hardly believe her own daring. But she trusted Alex and was immensely grateful that at least one of them knew what to do.
Letting instinct guide her, she stroked the hard length of him through his trousers. Encouraged by his moans, she slipped her hand beneath his waistband and reached for—
“No,” he said, pulling away and rolling off the bed onto his feet.
Good heavens. It seemed she couldn’t do anything correctly.
As though privy to her thoughts, he said, “It’s nothing you did. Believe me, I would love nothing more than to spend the whole night in your bed. But it wouldn’t be fair to you.”
She shook her head, disbelieving. She’d been under the impression that someone like him had no scruples. That he cared about nothing except taking pleasure where he could find it. Perhaps his protest was merely part of the rake’s repertoire—some heartfelt words meant to seduce innocents who were reluctant to surrender their virtue.
Didn’t he realize that she was willing? There was no need to ply her with pretty—if empty—words.
“I fail to see how spending the night in my bed would be unfair to me. Do you snore excessively or steal the sheets?”
“No.” He shot her a weak smile. “It would be unfair because you can’t stay. If I were to lie with you and send you on your way, I’d be the worst kind of scoundrel.”
Beth had to bite her tongue. After all, he was rather known for being the worst kind of scoundrel, and the label had never seemed to bother him before.
Why did he hold a piece of himself back? She wanted him to trust her, to invite her in to the darkest corners of his heart. Let her chase away the demons.
When she trusted herself to speak, she said, “Very well. I’ve been thinking about your request that your grandmother and I leave.”
“It’s not a request,” he interrupted. “It’s a necessity. For your safety and my sanity, you need to move out of this house.”
“Then I suppose you will have to tell your grandmother over breakfast. It will break her heart, of course. At this very moment, she’s probably dreaming of wainscoting, draperies, and sconces.”
“Beth,” he pleaded. “I need your help with this. She wouldn’t understand. She’d think I was simply trying to rid myself of her. And I can’t hurt her like that. I’m not adept at showing it, but she’s the center of my world.”
She shrugged as though the admission didn’t touch and cut her at the same time. It must feel lovely to be at the center of his world. Not that she wanted to encroach on his grandmother’s place in his heart. “I feel certain you’ll find the words to make her understand.”
Dragging a hand down his impossibly handsome face, he sank onto the mattress beside her. “She cared for me after the fire. Day and night for weeks. My pain was hers, and she refused to leave my side. Not even to attend my parents’ funeral.”
Tamping down a wave of empathy, Beth held firm. “She’s a strong woman, and she loves you.”
“Indeed. If I were to tell her about the attempts on my life, she’d be beside herself—hysterical, even. I’m afraid she’d make herself sick with worry.”
“I quite agree.” Feigning nonchalance, she hopped off of the bed, plucked her robe from the chair, and slipped it on. “Once your grandmother recovered from the shock, I’m sure she’d go to the authorities. She might even write a letter to the king informing him of the situation.” His jaw twitched at that. “Then she’d likely spend her days sitting by a window, fearing the day a messenger brings news of your demise.”
“We can’t tell her about the murder attempts,” he said emphatically.
“I don’t plan on telling her anything.”
More stunned than angry, he approached her, imploring. “You could persuade her to move to the country without telling her the truth.”
With his naked torso glistening in the lamplight, and his heated gaze focused on her, it was difficult to deny him anything, but she resolved to remain strong. “You give me too much credit,” she said. “Besides, we had a deal. I’ll abide by the terms we set forth earlier.”
“The deal?” he asked, incredulous. “I inform you that someone’s trying to kill me and that you and my grandmother are almost certainly in danger, and you demand that I uphold my end of an inane deal?”
“Aren’t you trying to hold me to my end?” she countered.
“Well … yes,” he stammered. “But now you know the reason why. It could be a matter of life and death.”
“The reasons are irrelevant,” she said with feigned callousness. “A deal’s a deal.”
“Beth.” When he gazed into her eyes, she wanted to melt. He looked so sincere, so vulnerable. “Please help me.”
She’d never been able to resist an earnest plea for help, and from him it was doubly hard. But she wouldn’t capitulate. “Regardless of what you may believe, I do want to help—just not in the manner you’d prefer.”
“What does that mean?”
“I may have a way for you to grant your grandmother’s third wish and catch the killer.”
He leveled a look at her, skeptical. “I’m listening.”
* * *
Beth took Alex’s hand and led him to the chair she’d been reading in earlier. She perched on a footstool opposite him and leaned in. “I presume you have a list of suspects?”
“Just two, as of now.” His and Darby’s inquiries earlier in the day hadn’t ruled out either Newton or Haversham. Both had plenty of time and opportunity to damage Alex’s balcony. “Darby and I have been keeping an eye on them, waiting for one of them to make a mistake.”
“Instead of spending so much effort trying to track them down,” she said slyly, “why not make them come to you?”
“I see. I should throw open the front door and invite them to dinner?”
She bit her lip. “I thought perhaps a ball.”
“A ball?” He repeated, incredulous.
“Er, not just any ball … a masquerade.”
Over his dead body—which, unfortunately, was not a stretch. “Absolutely not.”
Beth stood, circled behind his chair, and trailed her fingertips up one of his arms and across his shoulders, making it damnably hard to think straight.
“Your grandmother admitted to me this morning that it’s her fondest wish.” She sighed. “My first inclination was to agree with you—that a masquerade would be ill-advised.”
“Scores of people wearing disguises and mingling in a room with two potential murderers is a horrible idea—a recipe for mayhem.”
She leaned close to his ear. “Unless we had a carefully orchestrated plan to unveil and capture the scoundrel.”
“Beth, this isn’t a serial novel featuring a bumbling, guileless villain. We’re not playing a game here. I won’t willingly put you, my grandmother, and a couple hundred guests at risk.”
“I know that,” she said soberly. “Neither would I. But with each day that passes, our enemy grows bolder. You don’t know where he’s lying in wait or when he will strike. If we control the setting, we have the advantage.”
Though her use of the pronoun we warmed him, it also scared the hell out of him. She shouldn’t be inserting herself into this mess. “What makes you think the real villain would come to a ball?”
“He will not want to raise eyebrows by refusing. It’s the best way for him to avoid suspicion,” she reasoned.
Alex pondered this. “Assuming the would-be killer does attend, how would we go about exposing him?”
“I haven’t quite figured out that aspect of the plan,” she admitted. “But I’m sure that between you, Lord Darberville, and me, we will think of something rather ingenious.”
“Your confidence is impressive,” he said dryly … but perhaps the plan had some merit.
“Do you resist because you don’t wish to wear a costume?” she teased, kneading his shoulders with a sorceress’s fingers.
“That’s not funny.” He paused for a heartbeat. “But I do detest costumes. Why does it have to be a masquerade ball?”
She shrugged. “Mostly, because your grandmother requested it. However, there are some benefits. If the villain believes his disguise will hide his true identity, he might be more reckless—and more inclined to make a mistake.”
She had a point. “We would need to know where both suspects are at all times. Disguises would complicate things, but if we stationed someone at their houses to follow them here, we could be certain we know who is behind the masks.”
“Precisely,” she said, pleased as a cat. Rounding the chair, she perched on the arm, her legs tantalizingly close to his. “Shall I inform the duchess at breakfast tomorrow that her dearest wish is about to come true?”
“I still don’t like it.” But the citrusy scent of her hair and the sultry look in her eyes clouded his thoughts. “How quickly could you arrange the ball?”
She gazed at the ceiling as though she was making a few mental calculations. “A week.” She blew out a long breath. “It won’t be easy, and I’ll need to fabricate a plausible reason for our haste when I tell your grandmother of the plans … but I think I can make the necessary preparations in a week.”
“No longer. Every day that you remain under my roof, we are tempting fate.” He pulled her off the arm of the chair so that she plopped onto his lap. She shot him an amused smile and rested her head on his shoulder.
“Then it’s settled.” She yawned and cuddled closer to him.
Not quite. “There’s one more thing.”
She gazed sleepily up at him. “Hmm?”
“If we’re not able to catch our man at the masquerade, you and my grandmother will need to leave the next day.” He hesitated. “I’ll need your word.”
* * *
Beth swallowed. She’d already pushed Alex to his limits, and she knew it. But how would she ever accomplish everything that needed to be done in a week? Invitations, costumes, musicians, menus, decorations … all while assisting the duchess with her redecorating project. And at the end of that week, she would also need to say good-bye to Alex—even if his life were still in danger.
Her prolonged silence provoked him. “I won’t negotiate any further, Beth. There can be no more excuses, no more delays. After one week, you and my grandmother will relocate to the country. Do I have your word … or not?”
She had no choice. If she didn’t agree, he’d be packing their bags tomorrow. “You have it.”
“Thank you.” She heard the relief in his voice and wished she felt a smidgen of it.
Their time together was limited—she could almost hear the clock ticking. But at least he was here now, his strong arms wrapped around her, keeping her worries at bay. “Do you think we could stay like this … and rest for a while?”
“I don’t see why not.” His husky voice caressed her skin, warming her like a quilt. She nuzzled her cheek against his bare chest, breathing in his scent and leaning into his solidness.
Sighing contentedly, she savored the feeling of closeness … and wondered if it could possibly last.
Maybe it didn’t always have to be her against the world.
Maybe she had an ally.
She’d always had her sisters, of course, and she always would. But wouldn’t it be lovely to have someone else on her side who was solely hers? Someone like Alex.
With their legs entwined and her hand over the steady beat of his heart, she drifted off. For tonight, at least, he was hers.
When she woke some time later, he was carrying her. She blinked in the darkness. “Alex?”
“Everything’s fine,” he said softly. “I’m taking you to your bed.”
She snuggled into his neck. “Good.” Bed was even better than the chair. They could lie on the soft mattress, his body curled around hers, until the birds began to chirp outside her window.
Tenderly, he laid her down and tucked the coverlet around her. Confused, she reached for him. “It’s not dawn yet. Don’t you want to stay?”
“I can’t,” he said curtly, and she let her arms fall. He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. “Go back to sleep. Tomorrow will be a busy day.”
Hastily, he stuffed his shirttail into his trousers. “Good night, siren.”