Chapter Nineteen

Violet sighed. “Lady Willoughby will be safe now.”

Hugh had kept his word. Ellie watched as the coach carrying Samantha rattled down the road and was swallowed by darkness. “Let’s hope she finds happiness,” Ellie said.

“Let’s hope Lord Willoughby doesn’t come looking for you,” Hugh said, his tone short, then he stalked away.

Violet touched Ellie’s hand. “Be aware. He will not be easily handled.”

Ellie dug a toe in the dirt. She was still reeling from the shock of finding Hugh inside Violet’s carriage. It had taken every ounce of self-control not to flee, but to bravely sit across from him and meet his angry gaze. “I will deal with him.”

Violet’s gaze held hers. “I know men well. The marquess is angry and determined to possess you. A volatile combination.”

She swallowed. She wouldn’t give up now, not after all they’d been through tonight, and all she’d been through with the club. “He will lose.”

Violet eyed her coolly. “Remember what I said. The heart is a tricky organ.”

“My heart is safe.”

Mostly. She feared she was a horrible judge of men. She had made the same mistake with Hugh twice. She would not be fooled again.

Hugh returned. “We need to go back before you are missed.”

“My family understands I will be out late tonight; they suppose I am overseeing the opening of the women’s gambling room,” Ellie said.

“My coach will take you both back to the Raven Club,” Violet said.

“We will travel with you until we are back in town. Then Ellie and I shall hail a hackney,” Hugh said.

The implication was clear.

“I understand why you do not wish Lady Ellie to be seen in my carriage, my lord, but neither is it proper for her to travel alone with a bachelor.”

“I will take precautions. Besides, she should have thought of that before carrying out this conspiracy.” A muscle ticked at his eye.

Violet nodded. “As you wish, my lord.” The courtesan caught Ellie’s eye, and the unmistakable message was clear. Take care. He is angry and determined to possess you.

He would fail.

Ellie swallowed any protest of the arrangements. What good would it do now?

They rode in silence in Violet’s carriage until the distant toll of a church bell sounded as they entered the city. Ellie said her goodbyes to Violet, then Hugh took her arm, his fingers banding around her, as they walked down the street in search of a hackney.

As they passed a tavern, drunken revelers stumbled outside. One took a look at her and slurred, “Where’d ye find such a pretty piece, guvnor? I’ll offer a coin fer her.”

“This one’s taken.” Hugh pushed the man aside, and the drunken man stumbled to the street then promptly vomited.

Good lord. Ellie grasped her skirts to keep them clean as Hugh quickly led her away to a waiting hackney. She settled on the bench, and he took the seat across from her. His jaw was tense.

“You’re angry,” she whispered.

“You’re right. I am.”

“You think I should not have offered to help Lady Willoughby.”

“Little fool. I’m not angry for your desire to aid the lady, but for your recklessness at putting yourself in danger.”

She believed he would criticize her motives more than the risk to her person. “We had everything planned. Nothing untoward would have happened tonight,” she argued.

“No? What about when the baron comes looking for his wife?”

“I already told you. I will deny all knowledge of his wife’s disappearance.”

“He found the mask. He’ll know you lied. You took his wife.”

“We will be more careful in the future.”

“There will be no future incidents.”

She scowled at him. “You are not my husband. You have no say.”

“You will cease.” It was an order, not a request.

“Why do you care?” she asked.

“Because I am concerned for you. And in this, I know what is best for you.” The muscle by his eye had not ceased its infernal ticking. He was still furious.

Her own anger bubbled inside her chest. She glared at him, fuming. “Just as you knew what was best for me years ago?”

“This is not the same,” he countered.

“Oh? How is it different?”

The carriage came to a halt in the mews outside the Raven Club. Rather than wait for his answer, Ellie reached for the handle. She wouldn’t wait for the driver to hop down and lower the step. She planned to jump out of the conveyance as if it were on fire.

Hugh’s hand clamped down upon hers like a vise. “Not so fast. We have unfinished business between us.” He tapped on the box and ground out instructions to the driver. “23 Berkeley Square.”

Her stomach plummeted. “That is not my home.”

“You’re right. It’s mine.”

“You can’t be serious! I cannot be seen alone with you in your home!”

“You should have thought of that before your recklessness.”

Minutes later, the carriage halted outside a massive pile of stone. With Hugh’s presence in the confines of the carriage, she knew she had little choice. But she needn’t make it easy for him.

He exited first, then nearly dragged her out. She planned to make a mad rush for the street, but he anticipated her intent and swept her across his shoulder like a pirate with his booty.

She expelled a burst of air from her lungs and slapped his back with her palms. “Oh! Let me down!”

“Gladly. Once we are inside.”

“You plan to keep me here until dawn?” Ellie asked.

“Yes,” Hugh said.

“For God’s sake, why?”

She was standing in his library. His proper butler had raised an eyebrow when Hugh had walked inside the marble vestibule with her slung across his shoulder. Her cheeks had flamed red, but the servant hadn’t said a word about her humiliating appearance. The butler’s only response had been a drily delivered, “Good evening, my lord.”

Thank goodness it had been dark out and no one appeared on the street. If she had been recognized…

No amount of explanation would have saved her then. She rubbed her cold arms and scanned the room.

Dozens of books were shelved in tall, cherry bookshelves. A lush Oriental carpet covered the floor, and chairs were situated before a marble hearth. On any other occasion, the books would have captured her interest. She’d love to run her fingers along the leather spines and sit in one of the oversized leather chairs, sip his fine brandy, and read far into the night.

Instead, she faced a tall, broad-shouldered, angry marquess.

“You said I have no right to prohibit your reckless activities. You’re correct,” he said.

Realization struck her like lightning. “You think to ruin my reputation so that I will have no choice but to marry you?”

“As your husband, I’ll have every right to dictate your behavior.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Why not?”

“You may be a cad, but I never believed you were a man who would force a woman against her will.”

At her words, he let out an exasperated sigh and ran his fingers through his hair.

She watched, helpless, as he pulled the thick strands back from his scalp, then released them.

“You’re right,” he said. “I’m not that type of man. I would never force you. It’s just that you frustrate me beyond measure.”

He went to a sideboard and poured himself a whisky, then swallowed. She watched where his lips pressed against the glass. He downed the liquor and poured himself another. She should be surprised by his behavior, but she knew everyone’s emotions were running high tonight.

She also knew he was struggling with what he’d discovered. He hadn’t known she meant to continue to help Lady Willoughby by smuggling her out of London. He couldn’t have known a notorious courtesan was helping them.

For some inexplicable reason, she wanted to ease his torment. He appeared like a caged man—tense and frustrated. She knew how physically powerful he was. She’d seen him in a boxing ring, seen him beat off two footpads. He looked like he could use a session or two in the boxing room right now to release his tension.

It was all because of her.

She approached him. He might be dangerous, but she didn’t fear him. She’d never feared he would harm her physically.

Only other dangers to her heart.

Perhaps Violet Lasher was right.

She touched his arm. His muscles tensed beneath his coat. “I’m sorry for your distress.”

“Are you? Or are you just sorry that I discovered your clandestine activities?”

Her heart tripped a beat at his harsh tone, but she held her ground. “Both, I suppose.”

He touched her face. “What am I to do with you?”

Nothing. Everything.

Where had that tiny voice come from? What was happening to her resolve?

“Will you tell Ian about tonight?” she asked.

“Ellie, I—”

“Please, don’t. Will you promise?”

He sighed. “I cannot promise. But I hadn’t planned to rush to your brother’s home and inform him that you smuggled Lady Willoughby out of London and away from her husband.”

She let out a breath. “Thank you.”

“I fear it’s a mistake. You make me weak.”

Hadn’t she feared the same thing about herself? Yet, here she was thinking about it again. About the feel of her body pressed against him. Her naked limbs grazing his hardness and heat. The way he made her tremble and moan and squirm beneath his skilled fingers as she reached a peak of pleasure.

His finger traced her cheek, then her full lower lip.

The tip of her tongue met his finger, and his eyes widened in anticipation that surely matched the blood singing through her veins. His groan sent a tingling down her spine.

“I’m going to kiss you now, Ellie. Hard. If you don’t want it, then leave this room and my butler will summon my carriage to take you home.”

Oh God. Her limbs froze in anticipation.

Leave. Leave now and save yourself, your treacherous heart.

Her feet refused to move.

A second later, she was in his arms. His mouth swooped down to ravage hers. The kiss was hard, hungry, and devastating. He exuded a masculinity that jolted her senses, and each time his tongue stroked hers, she became more overwhelmed until she was panting, and her hands rose to dig into his hard biceps.

He moaned. Or was that herself? She didn’t care. She wanted him with an urgency that shocked her. His lips left hers to slide across her cheek and nuzzle her ear.

“Just tonight. Tomorrow we must act as if this never occurred,” she said.

He looked down at her. “Why?”

“Have you forgotten our competition over the Raven Club?”

“No. I haven’t forgotten,” he said.

“Then what happens between us tonight must not interfere with our efforts. It changes nothing.”

“Is that what you really want?” he asked.

“Yes.”

After a heart-stopping pause, he finally nodded in agreement.

She was an independent woman, free from a husband’s demands and capable of making her own decisions. She wanted him, could have this, one last time. And he’d agreed.

Then why did she feel an uncomfortable loss?