Reese's Bride (24 page)

“Do you?”

“You’re a beautiful woman, Anna. I won’t deny I feel a certain attraction to you.”

She stopped right in front of him. “Do you want to make love to me, Travis?”

His pulse quickened, began to throb against his temple and in his groin. He couldn’t believe he was having this conversation. “You shouldn’t be asking me a question like that.”

“Tell me, Travis, do you want to kiss me? Do you want to remove my clothes and make wild, passionate love to me? Because that is exactly what I want you to do.”

Travis hissed in a breath. “Anna…”

“Answer me, Travis. Is that what you want?”

He could count his own heartbeats, so loud they rang in his ears. He had to stop this now, before it was too late.

“You want to know the truth, Anna? The truth is, I’d like to rip off every stitch of clothing you are wearing. I’d like to see you naked. I’d like to lay you down on the sofa, part your pretty legs, and bury myself inside you as deeply as I possibly could. I’d like to take you every way a man can take a woman, make love to you until neither of us has the strength to move. Is that what you want to hear?”

He waited for her shock and repulsion. He imagined her screaming and running from the house. He imagined her never speaking to him again, and though it tortured him to end their friendship in such a manner, it had to be done. He needed to protect her. From him and perhaps even herself.

Anna grinned. “I knew it!” Lifting her skirts and petticoats out of the way, she raced toward him, threw her arms around his neck and kissed him for all she was worth.

Travis groaned. He locked his arm around her waist, pulling her tightly against him, knowing she would feel his powerful erection but no longer able to care. He was rock hard and pulsing, aching for exactly what she offered.

“We can’t,” he whispered, between soft, nibbling kisses. “We can’t do this, Anna.” But the kisses turned hotter and deeper and his lust grew until he feared he might burst. “I don’t…I don’t want to ruin your good name.”

“I’m a widow,” she countered breathlessly, kissing the side of his neck. “And I’ve never been with a man I desired. I want you, Travis. I need you to make love to me.”

“Anna…” He reminded himself she was his sister’s best friend. He told himself to do what was right, to set her away from him and send her out in the cold. Instead, he kissed her again and again and couldn’t seem to stop. Not until she took hold of his hand.

“Take me upstairs, Travis. Show me how good making love can be.”

He shook his head but didn’t let go of her hand and in the next instant, they were climbing the stairs and he was leading her into his bedroom. It was neat and orderly, Spartan compared to the rest of the house. He was a military man, after all, and when he saw the approval on her face, he felt an odd sort of relief.

“Are you certain, Anna? Are you sure you won’t be repulsed by a man with only one arm?”

Anna gave him one of her sweetest smiles. “I don’t give a whit about your arm. You are the most masculine man I have ever known and I have never been more certain of anything in my life.”

The words filled his heart. It was foolishness. Utter insanity. He wouldn’t marry her. He wasn’t cut out to be a husband.

But as she lay gloriously naked beneath him, as he came up over her, filled her and began to move inside her, he thought that nothing had ever felt so good as having Anna Townsend in his bed. When he brought her to a stunning release topped only by the power of his own, he couldn’t imagine ever letting her go.

Travis bent his head and kissed her, and ignored the unwelcome thought.

R
oyal called a meeting of The Oarsmen. Reese received his brother’s request to join them and prepared to meet them at White’s that night. All the Dewars were members of the elite London gentlemen’s club, though unlike his brothers, Reese rarely visited.

Still, he looked forward to the gathering tonight. He hoped one of the men had gleaned information that might help Travis. Or perhaps there was news of Mason Holloway.

Thoughts of the man made his stomach churn. Holloway was a blight on humanity, a man willing to kill innocents to get what he wanted. Though Reese wanted nothing for his son from the Earl of Aldridge, it galled him to think of the Holloways blackmailing Elizabeth into doing what they wanted.

Unfortunately—except for disposing of the man, a notion Reese found extremely appealing—there was no way to keep his son completely safe. Although he had killed men in war, murder was something altogether different. He wanted his family safe and he wanted a future
with his son, and dispensing with Mason Holloway would only get him hanged.

His coach rolled to a stop in front of the big bay window marking the location of the club. Reese stepped down from the carriage and crossed to the door, relying on his cane only occasionally. His injured leg continued to improve, thanks in part to Corporal Daniels. Soon he intended to ride again, as he had vowed to do.

Reese passed a pair of blond footmen holding open the door and stepped into the quiet interior that as a younger man had unnerved him. He’d been too active, too restless for a staid establishment like White’s. Now he found the subdued atmosphere oddly soothing.

It occurred to him that he had changed over the past few years. The life of adventure and travel he had once craved appealed to him little now.

He made his way past the main drawing room to a meeting room where the gathering was meant to take place. Seated on both sides of a long mahogany table, Royal, Sherry Knowles, Quent Garret, and Dillon St. Michaels were already there. Jonathan Savage walked in a few paces behind him.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” Jonathan said, seating himself across from Reese. Only his brother, Rule, was missing.

Reese almost smiled.

At three-and-twenty, his younger brother was still sowing his oats and a bit irresponsible. In time, Reese was certain that would change.

The men chatted amiably for a while. Then Royal brought the meeting to order.

“I’ve asked you all here to exchange the information
you’ve collected. I know several of you have made discoveries. I’m hoping that by sharing them, we might come up with something we can use.”

“Indeed,” St. Michaels agreed, settling his muscular frame against the back of his chair.

Royal fixed his gaze on his best friend, Viscount Wellesley. “Sherry?”

“Just a bit of gossip, I’m afraid. I heard that Mason Holloway has been running up quite a debt about town. He has purchased an entirely new wardrobe, top to bottom, nothing but the best. His wife is also spending more money than apparently they have. Holloway has been convincing the merchants they will be well taken care of once he comes into the fortune he is owed.”

A muscle ticked in Reese’s jaw. He forced himself to stay calm. “My wife and I have agreed to abdicate Jared’s title as earl. It’s the only way to completely insure the boy’s safety.”

“Aside from eliminating the Holloways,” St. Michaels drawled.

“Believe me, I’ve considered it. Unfortunately, without proof of their intent, killing Holloway would result in my hanging.”

Sherry’s mouth curved into a smile, exposing several crooked bottom teeth. “Yes, well, there is that.”

“As Royal has probably told you,” Reese continued, “the boy is mine and not Aldridge’s, and I’d just as soon my son take nothing from the bastard who treated him so badly.”

Savage’s dark eyes swung in Reese’s direction. “I can understand your thinking, but you must admit it’s a great deal to give up. As he gets older, the boy might resent you for it.”

“It’s possible, I suppose, though I certainly hope not.”

Royal spoke to the group again. “How about you, Quent?”

“Not much. Just that Holloway has been gaming fairly heavily. Word is, his markers will be golden in the very near future.”

Reese swore softly.

“What about you, Savage?” Royal asked. “Anything new on the Van Meer murder?”

Jonathan straightened, his lean muscles tightening as he sat up in his chair. “I’ve been working with Morgan on this. It seems Holloway was Van Meer’s silent partner in some sort of shipping swindle. A good deal of money was raised, all of which was supposedly lost to investors before Van Meer was killed. None of the money ever surfaced, but rumor has it the profits were to be split between the two men.”

“So you think Holloway killed Van Meer and took the money they made on the swindle,” Reese said.

“It’s a damned good bet.”

“Did you uncover any sort of proof?”

“Morgan’s still working on it. He’s been canvassing the neighborhood, trying to come up with someone who might know something. Van Meer had a son. Morgan’s been trying to find him.”

Reese just nodded. It was more than they’d known before, but still not enough.

At the head of the table, Royal turned his attention to St. Michaels, who only shook his head.

“Sorry, but so far I’ve struck out entirely. I’ll keep my ears open, though. Perhaps something will eventually turn up.”

“You’ve done your best,” Royal said, turning to the black-haired man who seemed the most solemn of the group. “Nightingale?”

The earl released a breath. “As you know, I’ve been working to help Captain Greer and I’m afraid my news isn’t good. I spoke to my friend in the Foreign Office. Apparently, they believe the defeats the army suffered in June at Redan and Malakoff may have been due to inside information the Russians received. Prior to that time, Captain Greer was in London. They think he may have somehow got hold of the information and seen it delivered into enemy hands.”

“That is insane,” Reese said. “Just last month, we defeated the Russians at Tchernaya. We’re pressing them hard. It’s only a matter of time until the war is over.”

“That doesn’t absolve Greer from the charges,” Nightingale said. “On the other hand, the authorities aren’t completely convinced or the captain would now be in prison.”

Reese sighed. “Then there is time, yet, for Trav to find the man we’re looking for.”

“For his sake, I hope it happens soon.”

Royal stood up from the table and surveyed the group of men. “That’s it then. Anyone have anything else?”

Before anyone could speak, the door burst open and Rule strode into the chamber, his black hair wind-tousled and his overcoat flapping against his long legs. “Sorry I’m late.”

The others were beginning to stand.

“We’re just finished here,” Royal said. “I’ll fill you in later.”

Rule just smiled. “I’ve got something you might want to hear.”

The men eased back down in their chairs.

“What is it?” Reese asked.

“I’ve discovered Lord Sandhurst isn’t quite the man he appears.”

“Is that so?” Reese felt the pull of a smile. “I take it you and Lady Sandhurst had another
meeting
.”

Rule grinned, digging dimples into his cheeks. “You might say that. And afterward, she confessed something interesting. She said she and her husband had never had a satisfactory marital relationship because her husband…well, occasionally, he had affairs with other men.”

St. Michaels whistled. “Interesting to say the least.”

“Sandhurst is a handsome bastard,” Quent added, “and masculine enough, I always thought. I wouldn’t have figured…”

“I gather he uses his sexuality in whatever way it serves his purpose. In this case, it makes one wonder what that purpose might be.”

“Yes, it does,” Reese said, and in that moment, he decided that he would take a personal interest in Philip Keaton, Earl of Sandhurst. He would follow him, see where he went in the evenings, see whom he might be meeting. Travis was sure to be recognized but Reese had never met the man.

He stood up from his chair. “I want to thank you all for what you’ve done. You’ve accomplished more than I ever imagined.”

Savage stood up, as well. “If we find out anything more, we’ll come to you directly.”

Reese gave a nod of his head. “Thank you.”

But finding out more was unlikely. The men had
pressed their connections in society as far as they could. Morgan was still trying to link Holloway to the Van Meer murder, but a good deal of time had passed and the odds of uncovering some sort of evidence weren’t good.

On the positive side, once the abdication proceedings were over, Holloway would have what he wanted and Jared would be safe.

Until then, the boy remained heavily guarded. Gillespie and Jack Montague, along with several of Montague’s men, were there at the rented town house. The adoption hearing was scheduled for tomorrow. God willing, by the end of the day, Jared would legally be his son.

The notion tightened his chest. He wanted to proclaim the boy his by blood but he wouldn’t do that to Elizabeth. It was his fault he had gotten her with child. And she had suffered enough in that regard.

As he bid farewell to Rule, Royal, and Royal’s close friends, men who had become his friends as well, he thought of the woman who waited for him at home. He hadn’t made love to Elizabeth since the night he had invaded her bedroom.

Not because he didn’t want her.

Because he wanted her too much.

His anger was slowly fading, replaced with a need for her that amazed him. And frightened him. He needed to bring his emotions under control, to guard himself against the power she held over him.

In time it will all work out
, he told himself, repeating the words he had said to her. Elizabeth was his wife. If he was careful, he could take care of her, make love to her, and yet protect his heart, but it wouldn’t be easy to do.

Reese shook his head as he made his way outside the
club and went in search of his carriage. He had to stop thinking of Elizabeth and concentrate on Travis. His friend was in the gravest danger now. Prison loomed like a rapidly approaching storm. If something didn’t happen soon, Travis might be the one to hang.

Reese had a lead in Sandhurst that might divert the storm and he intended to pursue it. His instincts were telling him the earl, with his insistence that Travis was a spy, his various sexual proclivities, and his recently reinvigorated fortune, was the man to watch.

Reese intended to start tonight.

Three days passed. Every night, Elizabeth lay awake in her bedroom next to Reese’s, hoping to hear the sound of her husband’s footfalls on the stairs. She knew they would not be forthcoming. Each night he left the house right after supper. An errand, he said, that involved his friend, Captain Greer.

Elizabeth wondered if the betrayal he felt had finally pushed him into the arms of another woman. Had he found solace somewhere else? Found a woman he believed he could trust? The thought drove a dagger into her heart.

At least one good thing had occurred. Jared’s adoption hearing had taken place and his adoption formally approved. Unfortunately, Reese’s happiness at officially becoming Jared’s father only made Elizabeth feel worse.

During the time they were courting, she and Reese had discussed having children. She knew he wanted a family but she hadn’t realized how much, or what a marvelous father he would make.

It was amazing how rapidly the bond was growing between Reese and his son, as if some invisible string
drew them together. Jared was a Dewar through and through and perhaps it was simply that. Lately, the boy seemed to laugh more often, to talk a little more excitedly, to speak a little less guardedly.

She didn’t know what had happened, but she was grateful for whatever it was.

Seated in the drawing room late in the afternoon, Elizabeth worked on her embroidery, trying not to think where Reese might be spending his evenings. Jared was upstairs with his tutor, Mr. Connelly, working on his studies. The security man, Mr. Gillespie, stood guard outside the door.

Reese had been gone all day. With the adoption final, he had turned his attention to the abdication proceeding, attacking the problem with a determination she hadn’t expected but should have.

“I want him safe,” he had said. “I don’t care about Aldridge’s fortune. The boy is mine. I’ll be the one to see to his future.”

Elizabeth completely agreed. If she had married Reese in the first place, her son would have been a Dewar, as he was now, the nephew of a powerful duke. Reese had money enough to provide for Jared’s future, and combined with the money from her own inheritance, it was a goodly sum.

Jared didn’t need the Aldridge title. Mason could have it. All the title had ever done was to bring her pain.

Taking an embroidery stitch, determined to concentrate, Elizabeth glanced up at the sound of a light knock on the door. Expecting a visitor, she set her embroidery hoop aside and walked toward the entry as the security guard, Jack Montague, answered the knock. She walked
into the entry and recognized the silver-blond curls belonging to her sister-in-law, Lily Dewar.

“It’s all right, Mr. Montague. This is Her Grace, the Duchess of Bransford. I’ve been expecting her. Lily, please do come in.”

The duchess walked into the house and Montague closed the door. Elizabeth led her into the drawing room, which wasn’t as elegant as any of the rooms at Holiday House or even Briarwood, but was immaculately clean and well-cared for. The three-story structure had several drawing rooms, a study, adjoining rooms for her and Reese, as well as rooms on the second and third floors to accommodate Jared and Mrs. Garvey, the servants, and Mr. Montague and his security people.

The women sat down on a burgundy horsehair sofa, which had a matching chair. A warm fire burned in the hearth, taking the first of the November chill out of the air. Elizabeth rang for the downstairs maid, and instructed her to fetch tea and cakes for the two of them.

“I’ll see to it, my lady,” the slender girl said with a curtsey, then turned and hurried away.