Baron of Blasphemy Page 4

  Tears burned at her eyes, though she refused to shed them. She swallowed several times to work down the lump. “When do we leave?”

  “Now,” Bash answered. “Dishonor is afraid if they followed him, they are waiting for all of us. We’re going to separate, slipping into the night and scattering to the four winds.”

  “And Infamy? Is he helping in this plan?” He was their last partner at the club.

  Bash grimaced. “I’m going to need him to collect your cousin, Avery.”

  “Collect Avery?” Abigail asked. “But how could he…”

  Bash shook his head. “She’ll not have a choice either.”

  Abigail covered her mouth with her hands. Her cousin would have to marry Infamy as well. This was…ridiculous. Poor Avery had already been through enough, daughter to an evil man who never cared for her. “Surely, the danger isn’t that—”

  “Your sister has been kidnapped and attacked. Do you want to suffer the same fate, or worse?” Bash barked and then drew in a long breath. “I’m sorry, Abigail. This is the best chance we have of keeping everyone safe.”

  Chad lifted her into his arms again. Several onlookers gasped but he paid them no heed. “We’ll leave out the garden gate, hire a hack, send word to Vanity that we’ll be at the Cock and Bull Inn and Tavern on Waverly Street.”

  Bash gave a single nod and then, just like that, Chad began to carry her away.

  She swore she wouldn’t cry.

  But as they disappeared into the darkness, she felt a drop of wetness slide down her cheek. Surely it had begun to rain, but no water hit her hair, or her dress, or even her arm. Only her cheeks seemed to suffer from the weather.

  As she dashed the wetness away, she drew in a shuddering breath. How would she prove anything now? Not to them, but to herself?

  How would she ever feel she was worth love if she never got the chance to seek it?

  * * *

  Bloody hell, his stomach tightened into a knot.

  Thieves, he could deal with. And kidnappers, he’d mow to the ground. But a crying female…

  She dashed the tears from her cheeks as she silently allowed him to carry her off.

  Damn. Damn. Damn. Then he stopped. He was the Baron of Blasphemy and damn wasn’t even close to strong enough. “Fuck,” he muttered as they made their way out a back gate in the garden.

  Her quiet sniffling stopped. “No wonder they call you Blasphemy.”

  He squeezed her a bit tighter. Part of him wanted to say sorry to her. She’d just lost all her choices but somehow the words died on his tongue. They didn’t help.

  “Feel free to unleash your own string of curse words. You’ve earned them.”

  She opened her mouth and then closed it again, slumping against him. “I’m not sure cursing will help.”

  He grimaced as they made their way toward the front of the palace, toward the street. “I can teach you how to hit. Or fire a pistol. Either one might make you feel better.”

  He actually felt her smile against him. “Those are both tempting offers.” Then she lifted her head again. “Do you really think I’m in danger?”

  He grimaced. It was a tricky question. “For whatever reason, the group stealing from the shipping company has targeted Emily. If I were to guess, you’re more formidable than her.”

  She inhaled a sharp breath and then wrapped her arms about his neck and gave him a large squeeze. He liked it far more than he expected. This closeness. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” he murmured back. “But if I were honest, I think Bash’s plan to send you away before they turn their attention to you is a smart one. And my offer still stands. I know you’re not choosing our match, but think of the conditions under which we wed. I will not take all your choices from you.”

  They’d reached the street and he set her down, linking her arm through his as though they were just another couple out on a stroll.

  “Thank you for that too,” she whispered as they walked.

  He saw a hack and hailed it. The carriage slowed next to them and he fired off the address, handing her inside. As he did so, he caught three men staring at them.

  He stilled, his senses sharpening. Who were they? What did they want? They were on foot and so he jumped into the hack, firing off an order to hurry.

  Had they heard the destination he’d called out? It was unclear if they’d been close enough or not.

  He settled in the seat across from Abigail. “Why are we hurrying?” she asked.

  He frowned. “No reason.”

  “Oh no you don’t.” And she was off her seat and attempting to sit next to him. The vehicle was not large enough, and to his complete shock, after fumbling about, she settled in his lap. Surprise made him lean back, but his hands automatically came to her hips to steady her and then he found he rather loved the feel of them.

  He squeezed a bit tighter. “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t lie to me. What just happened?”

  “I saw three men. They were staring.” He slid his hands up her back, pressing her torso closer to his. “They could have just been admiring your beauty. You’re rather stunning.”

  Even in the dark, he felt her blush. Heat radiated from her cheeks, so close to his. “But they concerned you?”

  “They did.”

  “Perhaps we should go somewhere else?”

  “Where?”

  She looked up at the ceiling, revealing a creamy column of neck. “We could go to Vanity’s. They won’t expect that and as he’s not been at Bash’s home since this entire debacle started…”

  The idea had merit. Once again, he found himself admiring her intelligence. “They’re likely not watching him.”

  She nodded. “It’s a gamble.”

  “I’m a gambling man.” And he wrapped his arms firmly about her waist. Then he lifted one hand to knock on the wall by the driver and shouted out a new address.

  She pressed her mouth together as though hiding a smile. “Am I a gambling woman?”

  He couldn’t help it. He leaned forward and kissed her exposed collarbone. He felt her shiver and he smiled. He had one asset working in his favor…she wanted him. He’d press that to his full advantage. “You could be. You’re intelligent, bold, with a bit of a penchant for trouble.”

  She arched her neck back and he continued to explore her throat with his lips. Her skin was silky soft and sweet, making him ache in all the right places. “Trouble?” she murmured, only half listening, he was certain.

  “Rushed weddings, nefarious thieves. Secret plots that threaten your future. You, Abigail, are a delightful package of intrigue and mystery.”

  “Oh,” she answered, her head cocking to the side as he continued his exploration, kissing her upper chest. “Do men ever fall in love with mysterious women?”

  “Love?” He stopped just above her breast. Part of him actually wanted to say yes. It was the truth. Men did fall in love with women like her. Hell, even he was falling under her spell. He hadn’t thought of another woman in days. But love? He was immune to the emotion and he didn’t want to give her false hope. “What’s so great about falling in love?”

  She leaned away, his lips no longer on her skin. “What’s so great? Everything. It’s the answer.”

  “The answer to what question?”

  She looked out the window, her mouth pursing for a moment. “Am I good enough?”

  A pain like a slice moved through his chest. He wasn’t. He’d learned that long ago.

  The carriage turned and started down a quieter street. Reluctantly, Chad set Abigail back on her seat as he began to scan the street behind them to see if they were being followed. “That is never the question you should ask yourself.”

  “Why?” she craned her neck, looking behind them as well.

  “Because I can tell you with absolute certainty that you are the most intriguing woman I’ve ever met.”

  Her head whipped back to look at him, her eyes wide. “Thank you, my lord.” Then
she touched his knee. “I would like to say that I see what sacrifices you’re making to become my husband. You’re being forced to leave your life and whisk me away for my safety.”

  That made him grin and he leaned over, quickly capturing her lips. “That isn’t a sacrifice at all.”

  The softness of her mouth yielded under his as her gloved hands came to his cheeks. The real sacrifice was that the man he’d carefully built, Blasphemy, was slipping away and he was not at all certain who he’d be once that other man fell to the wayside.

  Chapter Six

  An hour and a half later, Abigail sat on the bed in a guest room of the Viscount of Vanity.

  It had to be well past midnight.

  A few candles burned, lighting the darkness. She was still in her ballgown, but she had nothing to change into, and no maid had arrived to help her out of the dress anyway.

  Chad and his friend had disappeared into a study and she’d been escorted here where she waited…

  For what, she hadn’t a clue.

  She sighed and flopped back on the bed, starting to pull pins from her hair. She hadn’t a brush or a ribbon to braid the strands, but she wouldn’t sleep with her hair like this.

  Her eyes closed even as she frowned. Had she been irritated with her sisters earlier? She’d give anything to have them here now. Their chatter, even the bossy words, would fill the silence that was suddenly around her. Now she felt…alone.

  She kept working out the pins. “Eliza would tell me to lift my chin and be strong like a Carrington. Emily would hug me. Isabella would tell me to keep my wits about me and think about the best course of action.”

  She finished removing the pins and began working her fingers through the strands. She still lay across the bed and her hair stretched out behind her, likely streaming over the side. Her dress buttoned up the back. Perhaps she should ring for a servant to at least undo the fitted garment and unlace her corset.

  But just as she thought about standing, the door opened, and Chad stepped inside.

  She turned to look at him even as he halted by the door, the large wooden panel closing with a soft click. “It’s you,” she said, wondering what else to say. “In my room in the middle of the night.”

  His eyes were dark and the features of his face taut as his gaze wandered over her. “Of course it’s me. This is our room.”

  She gasped, sitting up, her hair cascading around her. “I beg your—”

  “You heard me.” He crossed the room then and buried a hand into her hair, cradling the back of her head. His fingers massaged her scalp as his gaze continued to devour her from his position above her. There were no other words for the look in his eyes. Normally she might be offended by his possessive gestures and words but tonight…she didn’t find she minded quite so much. He must have sensed her softening. “I’ll not leave you alone tonight.”

  “But…” she mumbled, argument failing her. Not because she thought he should be here. In fact, all the reasons he shouldn’t seemed rather obvious. But she was too tired to argue and furthermore, she’d been, well, lonely. “You really think this is necessary?”

  “What if someone saw us come here? Do you think I’ll leave you here to just be stolen away?”

  She shook her head. “You actually think someone would try and take me from a Viscount’s home?”

  He grimaced. “I honestly don’t know.”

  Chad slid his hand down her arm, then he pulled her to standing, spinning her about and starting on the buttons that ran down the back of her dress.

  “Chad,” she gasped, trying to step away. He held her in place. Irritation rumbled along her skin. When he’d carried her off, he’d said she’d have choices. In what precisely? Rubbing her head was one thing but disrobing her…

  “We’ll be married tomorrow or the next day. I’ll become intimately acquainted with every garment you have.”

  “I seriously doubt that.” She turned then, looking up into his face. Had she been vulnerable a few minutes ago? She’d take the silence now.

  “As your husband—”

  She crossed her arms. “You said I’d set the parameters. I’m not sharing a bed with you prior to our marriage.”

  He’d been reaching to continue undoing her buttons, but his hand dropped again, his face tightening. “There is only one bed.”

  She crossed her arms. “I’m sure there are other beds in the house.”

  He narrowed his gaze. “I’m trying to keep you safe, you know that, don’t you?”

  “I am also attempting to keep me safe.” She gave him a stern look. “Which means you should not be in my bed until after we’re married.”

  “Turn around,” he grunted. “You can’t sleep in that dress.”

  The change in strategy took her by surprise. “A maid could…”

  “The maids were not expecting a lady to arrive late in the evening. They are all in bed. And while we could wake them, I am here now.”

  “Oh,” she whispered. “That is a good point.” She pivoted then, presenting her back to him. She didn’t have a choice.

  “I know this is moving quickly.” He started on the buttons again. His fingers brushed her back, making her shiver.

  Abigail pressed her lips together to keep from gasping as she attempted to slow her heart. She had to resist him. She could feel her control around him slipping. If she weren’t careful, he’d kiss and compliment her into oblivion. And though he was to be her husband, he was also still a rake.

  She’d fall in love and he’d hold his heart away from her. He’d said as much in the carriage. And then where would she be? She’d love him and she’d be powerless to change anything. He’d be in charge of her as she was held hostage by her feelings. Would that make her feel worthy? She doubted it.

  And then she grimaced. Because in many ways, the situation reminded her of, well, her mother. While Abigail loved her father dearly, her mother had been the one always home, available while her father came and went as he pleased. Gone for months on end, her mother must have been lonely. Her father had held all the choice. And her mother had been lonely. “This isn’t quick. This is ridiculous.”

  He chuckled behind her as the bodice of her dress slumped forward. Ignoring the heat in her cheeks, she began removing the sleeves even as he worked on the strings of her corset. “So. I’m to sleep on the floor then?”

  She looked back over her shoulder at him even as he brushed his hand down the length of her hair. “If you think it best.”

  He lifted a brow as he stared at her. “I’m fairly certain you think it best.”

  She ignored the tendrils of pleasure his fingers in her hair and on her skin caused as her corset loosened. “All of society thinks it’s best.”

  He laughed again and then reached back for a pillow and a blanket.

  Abigail walked behind the screen in the room, removing her skirt, and shoes, and stockings before she moved back into the room to dive into the bed.

  But what she saw stopped her dead in her tracks. Chad wore nothing but his breeches as he stretched, his muscular chest rippling in a way that made her mouth dry and her skin feel hot. He was gloriously masculine.

  She was in so much trouble.

  * * *

  Chad watched her skid to a stop and suppressed a crow of victory. She’d noticed him.

  They were playing a game of cat and mouse. She’d allow him close and then she’d dart away again.

  He didn’t blame her. Any woman in her situation had every right to hold a man like him at arm’s length. Once she was his wife, of course, that would change.

  Even the idea of slipping into bed with her filled him with longing and he found his manhood thickening. A bit awkward since she was a tender virgin, and he had no way to hide the evidence of his desire. He was shirtless and his breeches were rather fitted.

  Her eyes grew even wider. She’d frozen halfway across the room. He nearly groaned aloud when he noted through her chemise that her nipples were tightening.
/>   Was she cold?

  Or responding to his own obvious desire.

  The fire backlit her body, and as she was wearing nothing but a chemise, he had a clear view of the curves under the shapeless fabric. He nearly groaned aloud. Her hips flared out from her tiny waist. His hands itched to trace the curve. “You’re cold,” he said, his voice low and quiet, but even he could hear the edge that tinged it. He wanted to possess her. “You should get in the bed.” And then he crossed the room and peeled back the covers.

  She darted forward, a flurry of movement again, and slid into the crisp white sheets just as he lifted the blankets over her body, covering all that creamy skin.

  She pulled the coverlet near up to her nose and he had to hide his smile. Those blankets would do little to hold him off if he were determined.

  And he was…but not on seduction. Currently, he was more concerned about gaining her trust and her consent than having his way.

  Had he thought he might return to his old life?

  That world seemed rather dull in this moment. It had become the same in its repetition. Drink, work, slip into an oblivion that was hollow. This…this was interesting.

  He sat on the empty side of the bed and she squeaked. “I thought you were sleeping on the floor.”

  “You didn’t say anything about tucking you in.” Possessive, protective need coursed down to his fingertips. “My first stipulation for our marriage is that I tuck you in nightly.”

  She huffed. “I’m not a child. What did I do that everyone insists on treating me as such?”

  He leaned over then, his lips an inch from hers. “I don’t wish to treat you like a child, my sweet. It’s the furthest thing from it.”

  Her mouth opened and her cheeks flushed as the covers dropped just a bit. Then he leaned over the last inch and kissed the tip of her nose. “Good night.”

  With that, he sat back up and crossed over in front of the fire, to the thick rug in front of the dancing flames. He tossed his pillow down and then settled on the floor, drawing the blanket up over his body.