Chapter Nine

Ellie tugged on their entwined fingers and leaned toward him until their faces were only inches apart. Her heart pounded. She knew any type of intimacy with Hugh was wrong, very wrong, but she pushed her worries aside. Tonight was different. He was different.

He’d called her admirable.

The air rushed from her lungs as he met her halfway until their faces were only inches apart. The scent of his cologne and soap and something else…something she thought was dangerous male, teased her senses. Desire illuminated his forest-green eyes. Her gaze dropped to his mouth, the sensual curve of his full lips, and the tantalizing divot in his chin. She had an irresistible urge to lick the masculine mark.

A lock of dark hair rested on his forehead and gave him a roguish appearance. Without thought, she reached out and smoothed it in place.

He let out a breath. “Careful, Ellie. I might take you at your word about that kiss.”

She tilted her head to the side and studied him. “You asked and I said yes.”

She took a breath of confidence, then before she lost her nerve, leaned even closer until only a wisp of air separated them. He held still as if he expected her to pull back and flee like a madwoman from the carriage at any moment. Perhaps she was mad. This insane urge to kiss him grew stronger with every passing second.

Instead of resisting, her eyes fluttered and she met his lips, desperate for the taste of him. He was gentle at first, his lips firm but closed. It wasn’t enough. Thoughts of their shared kiss had invaded her dreams, and she wanted more.

Her tongue darted out to outline his lips. He expelled a breath, and his hand reached up to pull her head closer as he opened his mouth to her tongue. She delved inside to explore his mouth and was rewarded when he met her tongue with his. Her hands slid up his arms around his shoulders, her fingers finding the muscles in the nape of his neck and his dark hair. She tilted her head to the side, eager for more.

He groaned and pulled her onto his lap. Even through the layers of her gown and his trousers, she was aware of his heat. And his hardness. It should frighten her, make her shove him away. Instead, she was lost, adrift in a sea of emotion. She struggled to find purchase, to keep a deep part of her hidden and sheltered from the overpowering male pressed against her. With every stroke of his tongue, he battered against her defenses.

No. She couldn’t travel down that path of heartache again. She wasn’t that foolish, was she?

But he had learned of her plans, and he hadn’t lectured or berated her, or heaven forbid, run straight to Ian. He’d aided her when she’d needed it most.

And his kisses felt heavenly. His lips traveled a path down to her ear and he suckled her sensitive lobe. Her knees felt weak. If she weren’t already sprawled across his lap, she would have fallen. A rush of heat flooded between her legs. His mouth continued its torturous path to her neck, down to the swell of her breasts above her bodice. Her nipples tightened beneath the fabric. He kissed her there, his mouth hovering above the satin.

She wished there was no silk between them. If his kisses were wonderful on her lips, her nape, the skin above her bodice, then what would they feel like on her naked breast?

She wanted his mouth there, wanted his lips to caress her aching flesh.

“Your skin is so soft.” He caressed her cheek.

“And here.” His hands moved to her throat.

“And most definitely here.” He slipped a finger inside her bodice and stroked her nipple. She was gasping for more.

“God, how I want you. I’ve wanted you forever.”

Truly? She knew better than to trust the seductively dangerous words from his mouth.

“But I’ll not take you in a carriage. We’re back at the club, love.”

She didn’t know what was more shocking. That they had arrived or that he called her love.

Her eyes widened, and she slipped off his lap and back onto her bench. She smoothed her skirts, her hair, then dared to look at him.

His mouth curved in an arrogantly male smile. “Are you going to deny liking that kiss?”

“A true gentleman would not ask.”

“After tonight, I believe we are beyond propriety.”

“Because of what just occurred in this carriage? I don’t believe—”

“No. Because of what occurred in the club. The next time you plan to shield a beaten woman, I want to know about it.”

“I hardly think your request is—”

“I wasn’t asking.”

She blinked in surprise. Gone was the gentle but consuming lover. The man who’d whispered huskily into her ear that he’d wanted her. His voice was hard as steel as he looked at her. His expression was that of an officer, a man in charge.

“I cannot promise you that.”

“You are beyond promising. Baron Willoughby is dangerous. You don’t know what you are getting into.”

“And you have my interests in mind?”

“Yes.”

She glared at him.

“Don’t cross me in this.” Then he pressed his lips to hers. Like flint striking steel, a fiery need licked at her. He pulled back, and the hunger in his gaze was unmistakable. Raw and primitive.

Her weak body cried out for more.

She was accustomed to shielding her heart, her soul. She’d had five years of practice since finding Hugh kissing another in the gardens of a ball. She’d feared having her heart crushed again by the broken promises of a selfish rogue.

But this time was different.

This time, she was afraid of herself.

…

“I heard there was trouble at the club last night,” Grace said.

Ellie stood by her sister-in-law’s bedside. She’d come to visit and had brought a steaming cup of chocolate. She knew Grace preferred chocolate over coffee, and she’d hoped the drink and the company would cheer her.

Grace had been bedridden for four days. She was an energetic person by nature and enjoyed walks and working on the club’s numerous ledgers in Ian’s upstairs office. She hadn’t been able to do much but rest and read since she’d experienced pain in her lower back. The family physician, as well as Ian, had been concerned.

Yet somehow, Grace had learned of the problem at the club last night.

“Brooks told you,” Ellie said.

Grace looked her up and down and pushed a lock of dark hair from her face. She eased back on the mound of pillows supporting her in a sitting position, her legs crossing on the bed. “No. Brooks wasn’t there, and you know it.”

“Then how?”

“Simon sent word.”

“Who?” As soon as the question was out of Ellie’s mouth, she knew the answer. Simon was the liveried guard at the door who had taken Brooks’s place. The man Baron Willoughby had tossed aside like a sack of grain.

Grace continued to watch, a keen glimmer in her eye. “The Marquess of Deveril took care of Lord Willoughby.”

Ellie took a deep breath. “Yes, he did.”

Grace’s hands ran over her distended stomach in a circular motion, the movement smooth and comforting. “Perhaps you should give the marquess a second chance, Ellie.”

“No,” she blurted out without hesitation. A kiss was not a sufficient reason to expose herself to heartache again. She was a mature woman who could make her own decisions, and sharing a heated moment during a carriage ride—no matter how wondrous—was not sufficient reason to alter the course of her life. She knew what she longed for, and financial independence was not something she was willing to sacrifice.

“People change. It was years ago.” Grace’s hands ceased moving to rest at her sides. “I saw the way he looked at you.”

“What way?”

“The way Ian looked at me the first time. Like a man who knows what he wants. I didn’t understand it then, but now I do.”

Her words burned, branding themselves into her mind. “No. You’re wrong. The Marquess of Deveril only wants one thing: the Raven Club.”

“Hmm. He came to your aid last evening, didn’t he?”

“Just because he used his brute strength to toss out a foolish, drunken lord does not mean he has changed his ways.”

“Asinine lord.”

“Pardon?”

Grace waved a hand. “Baron Willoughby is asinine. I never liked him.”

“Well, that makes two of us then.” Ellie disliked Baron Willoughby immensely, and she wondered if Grace knew how the man treated his young wife. She dismissed the thought. Samantha Willoughby hid her bruises well, and she would never speak of her troubles to others.

Ellie was more convinced than before that she had to keep her plans to help Lady Willoughby secret. Grace was more accepting than Ellie’s brother, but if either learned of her association with Violet Lasher, all would be lost.

Ian would go berserk.

“How are your endeavors at the Raven Club?” Grace asked, changing the subject.

Ellie plumped the pillows behind Grace, grateful to have a task while her mind churned with how best to handle the topic of discussion. “My plans are coming along. I do believe Ian will have no choice but to find my efforts are most profitable.”

“Hmm. We will both have a say.”

Ellie handed Grace the cup of chocolate. “You’ll pick me, won’t you, Grace?” She hoped she didn’t sound as desperate as she felt. She schooled her expression and tried to look as she must. Confident, competent, and determined to win.

Grace sipped the hot drink. “I must be fair.”

“Of course.” She felt a stab of disappointment. Ellie knew her plans for the club would work. They must. But deep down, she’d always hoped Grace would champion her.

Had she been wrong?

Rather than encourage her, Grace had suggested she give Hugh a second chance. Their encounter in the carriage returned in a flash. All during the night, she’d relived the heady sensation of his lips pressed against hers, tender and light as a summer breeze. And when their embrace had heated and he’d captured her lips with demanding mastery, she’d returned his kiss with reckless abandon. She had told him she wanted to kiss him, and she had no regrets at the time.

Her regrets came soon afterward, when he’d changed from a charming and seductive man to an arrogant and highhanded marquess. His demeanor had taken her off guard, and she’d felt pushed into a corner. He’d demanded that she tell him the next time a woman in danger came to her at the Raven Club.

Not bloody likely.

Grace continued to take small sips of her chocolate, watching Ellie over the rim of her cup. Ellie grew nervous, as if her sister-in-law could read her thoughts. She reached for the tray on the end table, intending to remove it, when she spotted a book. She picked it up and gave Grace a skeptical look. “Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet?”

“Ian is reading it to me.”

“Good heavens, why? It’s a tragedy.” Couldn’t her brother find something more uplifting to read to his expectant wife? Something with a happy ending?

Grace lowered her cup and sighed dreamily. “Two young lovers are very romantic.”

“But they both die!”

“So? They die in love.”

The pregnancy must be doing something to her mind. Ellie also thought the entire story foolish. Men were inherently selfish. What man would stab himself to death over the loss of a lover? She had loved Hugh, she’d thought he loved her as well, but then he crushed her hopes and dreams in one night and walked away from her without a backward glance.

Ellie set the book down. “I’m worried about you.”

Grace angled her head. “Don’t be. Women have been giving birth from the beginning of time.”

And many have died from it.

Ellie bit her tongue. “Still, the family physician insists you stay in bed. Why?”

For the first time, concern marred Grace’s brow. “It wasn’t the physician. Mrs. Henderson recommended bed rest.”

“Who?”

“Mrs. Henderson is my midwife. I trust her more than any male physician. She said the babe has not turned and can make for a difficult birth.”

“Oh, Grace.” Ellie felt the color drain from her face. Fear flooded her like a strong storm.

“It’s early still. We cannot say what will happen until it is time.”

“And if not?”

“Then I will be in Mrs. Henderson’s capable hands,” Grace said. “I’m telling you this because I need you to do two things for me. First, I need you to keep Ian calm during the birth.”

Ellie’s eyebrows shot upward. “Keep him calm! Do you not know my brother?”

Ian was madly in love with his wife. If he had any idea…

Ellie swallowed. Grace was bedridden. The least Ellie could do was assure her sister-in-law not to worry over her husband. “I shall do all I can. I will also ensure Brooks keeps my brother in the drawing room smoking cigars and drinking whisky when your time comes.”

“Good. I do not wish for Ian to scowl at Mrs. Henderson and chase her away. I know how intimidating my husband can be.”

“What is your second request?”

Something flickered in Grace’s eyes, something distant and disturbing. “If something should happen to me during the birth”—Grace held up a hand when Ellie was about to protest—“and I don’t believe it will, but if it does, I need you to look after Ian.”

“Don’t speak like that.” Her fear increased tenfold. The fact that Grace would even bring up such a horrific ending to her pregnancy made her stomach sink.

“Nonsense. We are women, and we are stronger than men. You are the most responsible. Olivia is fanciful, far too adventurous, and young.” Grace clutched Ellie’s hand. “Promise.”

“I can’t!”

Grace squeezed her fingers, the tightness almost painful. “Yes, you can. Ian has already experienced a lifetime of guilt and worry over Matthew’s death. There’s no need for him to feel guilty over me as well.”

Matthew. Their oldest brother—the brother who was supposed to inherit the earldom. He’d had a fondness for racing horses and had fallen off his horse, struck his head, and died. Ellie knew of the rumors: that Ian had lured Matthew to the treacherous track known as Devil’s Leap in order to murder his brother and seize the title.

Lies. All vicious lies.

No one had loved Matthew more than Ian. For some reason their father, the old earl, had hated Ian, but the brothers’ bond had remained strong. Ian had left home to open the Raven Club, and Matthew had been groomed for the earldom.

“The gossips are nothing but harpies. Ian would never have harmed Matthew. He tried to save him.” Ellie’s voice was hoarse.

“I know. But you need to look after Ian.”

Ellie nodded. “I promise.”

Grace exhaled a shuddering breath. “Good. Meanwhile, Lady Emberly’s garden party is tomorrow. You are attending with Olivia, correct?”

“Yes.” Lady Emberly was a close family friend. She was also one of the few society hostesses who had supported Ian as the Earl of Castleton after Matthew’s death.

“You should know that I also sent word to the dowager,” Grace said.

Ellie blinked. “My mother? She is in Bath with my aunt.”

“She will want to see her grandchild.”

She would. The dowager would be thrilled at the birth of her first grandchild. Ellie’s thoughts suddenly turned. Her mother would also be furious if she learned Ellie was in a contest with the Marquess of Deveril to win the Raven Club. Her mother had wanted Ellie to wed years ago. She’d also wanted Ian to sell the Raven Club before he married Grace.

Thankfully, that had never occurred.

Ellie stood. “I shall return tomorrow with another book.”

Grace lowered her cup, angling her face at Ellie. “Good luck at the Raven, Ellie. I wish I could be there to watch you work.”

“You taught me all I know about the ledgers. I’ll forever be grateful.” Ellie kissed Grace on the cheek and rested a hand on her stomach. Her eyes widened as she felt a flutter of movement beneath her palm. “My niece or nephew is quite active.”

Grace’s lips curved. “Ian wants a girl, but I think it’s a boy.”

For a stabbing instant, trepidation returned and queasiness churned her stomach. She feared for Grace. And Ian.

Sweet lord, Ian couldn’t lose Grace. He would be devastated. His guilt would be overwhelming. Nothing Ellie could do would be able to help him. Her brother would be tossed into an ocean of despair so deep, she didn’t think he’d return. It would be worse than when Matthew died. Much worse. Grace was his soul mate, the love of his life, the woman who saved him from a life of loneliness and reckless behavior. Ian had only known the Raven Club and believed the casino was all he’d needed in life. Until Grace had walked into his office and insisted on paying off her father’s debts and demanding Ian refuse her sire membership and a seat at the tables.

Ellie forced a smile. No sense letting Grace see her fears.

All would be well.

It had to be. The alternative was unthinkable. God couldn’t be that cruel, could he?

Ellie picked up the empty tray and turned to leave.

“One more thing,” Grace called out.

Ellie hesitated, her hand grazing the door handle. “Yes?”

“Keep in mind what I said about the marquess. From what I discerned, he wants more than just to win the club.”