If He's Sinful (38 page)

“But not ill?”

“Nay. Oh, a tiny little bit in the evening, but if I have a biscuit or piece of toasted bread and lie down, it passes. I was only sure this evening. I had guessed at it but pushed it aside with all the work that needed doing.”

“Because you were not sure of me. That is why you came here tonight. You needed to make me take a stand.”

“That was some of it. Everyone assured me that you would be back. It was Delmar who told me I might want to come and give you a kick so that you would find your way back to us a little faster. He confirmed what I had been trying to ignore, that I carry your children.”

He was kissing her belly when she said that, so Penelope decided it might take him a moment or two to fully grasp the meaning of her words. She stroked his hair as she waited and knew the exact moment the words struck home. His mouth stilled on her belly and his long, strong body that caused her so much pleasure grew tense, but not in the way that would give her any delight. Slowly he lifted his head and stared at her.

“Did you say children? Not child, but children?”

She leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Aye, fear so. You are at least speaking more coherently than I when Delmar first told me.”

“Twins?”

“Aye, Papa, twins. One boy and one girl.”

He took her into his arms and held her until the worst of the shock passed. “Are you certain you are fine?”

“Very certain. We are good breeders, Ashton. We have our children easily and rarely, very rarely, lose a woman to childbirth. I will be fine.”

Ashton wriggled around until he was on his back and held her on top of him. “I cannot think of any time my family has produced twins,” he said as he ran his hands up and down her slim, soft back. “Yours?”

“Not that I know of but they are not all that unusual in the Wherlocke and Vaughn family. I
will
be fine, Ashton. I will. Trust us to know such things if naught else. There was not a glimmer of worry in any of the boys. Not one. All they were interested in was that the children not be bastards.”

“I am glad they pushed you to come here.”

“And if we are about to be pulled into all the business of a hasty wedding, I think I do not wish to talk anymore.” She smiled as she stroked his body with hers and he grew hard beneath her.

“Neither do I. I do love you, Penelope, my fruitful little nymph.”

“Shall I call you my handsome satyr?”

“Only if there is such a thing as a faithful until death type of satyr.”

“I think there might be now.”

He laughed and kissed her, eager to make love again. Ashton believed he would also be eager to make love to Penelope no matter how many years and children they had together. He had started out a fortune hunter but ended up with riches no man can find in his purse. Love, he thought, as he gave himself over to the wildness he and Penelope shared so well, that was true wealth.

An enchanting new novel from
New York Times
bestselling
author Hannah Howell that will make you believe in the
power of destiny—and desire—all over again
…

SHE SEES HIS FACE EVERYWHERE…

Lady Alethea Vaughn Channing is haunted by a vision
of a man in danger—the same man who she has seen
in dreams time and time again. She doesn’t even know
his name, and yet she feels the connection between
them, knows she is the only one standing between him
and disaster…

…YET THEY HAVE NEVER MET

But rakish Lord Hartley Greville is capable of protecting
himself, as he has proven more than once in his
perilous work as a spy for the crown. If he’s to carry
out his duty, he’ll need to put aside the achingly beautiful
woman with the strange gift. And yet, when
Alethea’s visions reveal a plot that could endanger children,
Hartley will not be able to ignore the destiny that
binds them together—or resist the passion burning
between them…

Please turn the page for an exciting sneak peek of
IF HE’S WILD,
coming in June 2010!

Alethea Vaughn Channing looked up from the book she was trying to read to stare into the colorful flames in the massive fireplace and immediately tensed. That man was there again, taking shape within the dancing flames and curling smoke. She tried to tear her gaze away, to ignore him and return her attention to her book, but the vision drew her, ignoring her wants and stealing her choices.

He was almost family for there was no denying that they had grown up together. She had been seeing glimpses of the man since she was but five years old, although he had been still a boy then. Fifteen long years of catching the occasional peek into his life had made her somewhat proprietary about the man, even though she had no idea who he was. She had seen him as a gangly, somewhat clumsy youth, and as a man. She had seen him in dreams, in visions, and had even sensed him at her side. An unwilling witness, she had seen him in pain, watched him weep, known his grief and his joy and so much more. She had even seen him on her wedding night, which had been oddly comforting since her late husband had been noticeably absent. At times, the strange connection was painfully intense; at others it was only the whisper of emotion. She did not like invading his privacy yet nothing she had ever done had been able to banish him.

This was a strong vision, she thought, as the images before her grew so clear it was as if the people were right in the room with her. Alethea set her book down and moved to kneel before the fire, as a tickle of unease grew stronger within her. Suddenly she knew this was not just another fleeting intrusion into the man’s life, but a warning. Perhaps, she mused as she concentrated, this was what it had all been leading to. She knew, without even a hint of doubt, that what she was seeing now was not what
was
or what
had been
, but what was to come.

He was standing on the steps of a very fine house idly adjusting his clothes. She could smell roses and then grimaced with disgust. The rogue had obviously just come from the arms of some woman. If she judged his expression right, he wore that smirk her maid Kate claimed men wore after they had just fed their manly hungers. Alethea had the suspicion her vision man fed those hungers a lot.

A large black carriage pulled up. She almost stuck her hand in the fire as a sudden fierce urge to pull him back when he stepped into it swept over her. Then, abruptly and without warning, her vision became a dizzying array of brief, terrifying images, one after another slamming into her mind. She cried out as she suffered his pain along with him, horrible continuous pain. They wanted his secrets but he would not release them. A scream tore from her throat and she collapsed, clutching her throat as a sharp, excruciating pain ripped across it. Her vision man died from that pain. It did not matter that she had not actually seen his death, that the fireplace held only flame and wispy smoke again. She had suffered it, suffered the cold inside his body as his blood flowed out of him. For one terrifying moment, she had suffered a deep, utter desolation over that loss.

The sound of her servants hurrying into the room broke through Alethea’s shock as she crawled toward the table where she kept her sketchbooks and drawing materials. “Help me to my seat, Kate,” she ordered her buxom young maid as the woman reached for her.

“Oh, m’lady, you have had yourself a powerful seeing this time, I be thinking,” said Kate as she steadied Alethea in her seat. “You should have a cup of hot, sweet tea, you should, and some rest. Alfred, get some tea,” she ordered the tall, too thin butler who no longer even attempted to explain the hierarchy of servants to Kate.

“Not yet. I must get this all down ere I forget.”

Alethea was still very weak by the time she had sketched out all she had seen and written down all she could recall. She sipped at the tea a worried Alfred served her and studied what she had done. Although she dreaded what she had to do now, she knew she had no choice.

“We leave for London in three days,” she announced, and almost smiled at the look of shock on her servants’ faces.

“But, why?” asked Kate.

“I must.”

“Where will we stay? Your uncle is at the town house.”

“It is quite big enough to house us while I do what this vision is compelling me to do.”

“And what does it compel you to do, m’lady?” asked Alfred.

“To stop a murder.”

“You
cannot
meet with Lord Hartley Greville.”

Alethea frowned at her uncle who was only seven years older than she was. She had been too weary to speak much with him when she had arrived in London yesterday after three days on the road. Then she had slept too late to breakfast with him. It had pleased her to share a noon meal with him and she had quickly told him about her vision. He had been intrigued and eager to help until she had shown him the sketch she had made of the man she sought. Her uncle’s handsome face had immediately darkened with a scowl.

“Why not?” she asked as she cut a piece of ham and popped it in her mouth.

“He is a rake. If he was not so wealthy, titled, and of such an impressive lineage, I doubt he would be included on many lists of invitations. If the man notches his bedpost for each of his conquests, he is probably on his third bed by now.”

“Oh my. Is he married?”

“Ah, no. Considered to be a prime marriage candidate, however. All that money and good blood, you see. Daughters would not complain as he is also young and handsome.”

“Then he cannot be quite so bad, can he? I mean, if mothers view him as a possible match for their daughters—”

Iago Vaughn shook his head, his thick black hair tumbling onto his forehead. “He is still a seasoned rake. Hard, cold, dangerous, and the subject of a cartload of dark rumor. He has just not crossed that fine line which would make him completely unacceptable.” He frowned. “Although, I sometimes wonder if that line is a little, well, fluid as concerns men like him. I would certainly hesitate to nudge my daughter in his direction if I had one. And, I certainly do not wish to bring his attention your way. Introduce a pretty young widow to Greville? People would think I was utterly mad.”

“Uncle, if you will not introduce me, I
will
find someone else who will.”

“Allie—”

“Do you think he has done anything that warrants his murder?”

“I suspect there are many husbands who think so,” muttered Iago as he turned his attention back to his meal, frowning even more when he realized he had already finished it.

Alethea smiled her thanks to the footman who took her plate away and set several bowls of fruit between her and Iago. The moment Iago silently waved the footman out of the room, she relaxed, resting her arms on the table and picking out some blackberries to put into her small bowl. As she covered the fruit with clotted cream, she thought carefully over what she should say next. She had to do whatever she could to stop her vision from becoming a true prophecy, but she did not wish to anger her uncle in doing so.

“If wives are breaking their marriage vows, I believe it is for more reason than a pretty face,” she said. “A man should not trespass so yet I doubt he is solely to blame for the sin.” She glanced at her uncle and smiled faintly. “Can you say that you have not committed such a trespass?”

Iago scowled at her as he pushed aside his plate, grabbed an apple and began to neatly slice and core it. “That is not the point here and well you know it. The point here is whether or not I will introduce my niece to a known seducer, especially when she is a widow and thus considered fair game. A rogue like him would chew you up and spit you out before you even knew what had happened to you. They say he can seduce a rock.”

“That would be an intriguing coupling,” she murmured and savored a spoonful of her dessert.

“Brat.” He grinned briefly, and then quickly grew serious again. “You have never dealt with a man like him.”

“I have never dealt with any man really, save for Edward, and considering how little he had to do with me, I suppose dealing with my late husband for a year does not really count for much.”

“Ah, no, not truly. Poor sod.”

“Me or him?” She smiled when he chuckled. “I understand your concerns, Uncle, but they do not matter. No,” she hastily said when he started to protest. “None of them matter. We are speaking of a matter of life and death. As you say, I am a young widow. If he seduces me, then so be it. That is my business and my problem. Once this difficulty is swept aside, I can return to Coulthurst. In truth, if the man has anywhere near the number of conquests rumor claims, I will just disappear into the horde with barely any notice taken of my passing.”

“Why are you being so persistent? You may have misinterpreted this vision.”

Alethea shook her head. “No. ’Tis difficult to describe, but I
felt
his pain, felt his struggle not to weaken and tell them what they wanted to know, and felt his death. There is something you need to know. This is not the first time I have had visions of this man. The first was when I was just five years old. This man has been visiting me for fifteen years.”

“Good God. Constantly?”