Secrets for Seducing a Royal Bodyguard (20 page)

They’d also sought a club catering to hardened gamesters and reckless, wealthy men, the kind who weren’t averse to losing monstrous sums of money in one night. They also needed a house with a reputation for fair play and, according to Kit, The Cormorant fit the bill nicely. Its clientele was well heeled and its owner known for keeping the play honest while not asking inconvenient questions of his patrons.

This afternoon, she’d asked her banker to withdraw one thousand pounds from her account. Stuffing the wad of notes in her purse had made her sick with anxiety, but she had no choice. Her word as a newcomer would have meant nothing to Steele. Only by providing a stake would she be able to play the kind of game that suited her purpose.

Fortunately, her nerves had settled as soon as she started to play, and Vivien now glanced with satisfaction at the tidy pile of markers growing in front of her. She and Kit had done very well, especially against the likes of Barrymore and Castle. Kit was under strict instructions to play straight, leaving the brain-work and subtleties to her. So far, he’d been following her lead, playing a respectable if cautious game.

“Your play, Madam,” Barrymore intoned in a bored voice.

She pretended to study her cards, and then trumped his ace. Barrymore pressed his lips into a thin line, once again displeased.

He and Castle had initially seemed quite keen to take her on when she and Kit first entered the card room. Even through the layers of dark veiling masking her face, she had seen their gazes filling with an unholy mix of lustful curiosity and greed. To such jaded men, she must have presented an interesting challenge, and they’d made several bald innuendoes when they’d first started to play. Kit had turned beet red but he’d managed to keep himself under control, maintaining the fiction of her masquerade as a merry widow. Vivien had also blushed at their remarks, and had blessed the veils that covered her. As inconvenient as all the swaddling was, she was grateful for the protection.

But the crude remarks and her opponents’ enthusiasm for the game had markedly decreased in the last hour as the points on her tally had added up and her pile of markers had grown. Vivien was hitting her stride and the cards were cooperating. The bets had been high and reckless from the start. With a little luck over the next few games the rubber would be hers, along with a very sizable increase in her winnings.

And she had to admit she’d be happy to take her winnings and exit. Despite the elegance of the surroundings, corruption whispered through the air like a dark symphony. Women, beautiful birds of paradise in the employ of the house, drifted in and out of the rooms, their expensive perfumes carrying the heavy scent of decadence. They wove their soft white arms around the men at the tables, whispering seductive lies, enticing them into their beds. Those men—men like Castle and Barrymore—had the coldest and the most calculating gazes Vivien had ever seen. Part of her relished the opportunity to best them, but they made her skin crawl, nonetheless.

Kit played the final trick of the current game, flashing a triumphant smile. Behind her veiling, she grinned. If they kept this up—

Her mind stuttered when a large, masculine form loomed close over Kit’s shoulder, blocking the light from the wall sconces.

“What the devil,” Kit snapped, twisting around in his chair.

The words died on his lips at the same moment Vivien’s stomach pitched upward into her throat. She stared at the man standing behind her brother, straining her eyes to confirm what couldn’t possibly be true.

Except that it was.

“Why, Mr. Shaw,” Aden drawled in a dangerously soft voice. “Imagine running into you at The Cormorant. Not your usual sort of haunt, is it?”

“I, ah, no . . . that is to say . . .” Kit stuttered.

Vivien gripped the edge of the table, silently begging her brother to button his lips. She tried stretching out a leg, hoping to give him a warning nudge with her foot, but couldn’t reach him. Right now, her veils figured as the only barrier between her and certain destruction.

But when Aden’s gaze fastened on her, she knew destruction had arrived. Even through the layers of net she could see the fury in his dark eyes, even though his features showed no sign of emotion. She reluctantly admired his discipline as panic roared through her veins.

For a few nauseating seconds, she thought she might faint. And for a few
more
seconds, that seemed the desirable option. Unfortunately, she’d never fainted in her life, and it didn’t appear as if she was going to pick up the habit anytime soon.

“Mr. Shaw, you seem to have a mysterious companion. Perhaps you will be so kind as to introduce me,” Aden said, resting a heavy hand on Kit’s shoulder.

“Smith,” her brother blurted out. “My friend goes by the name of Mrs. Smith. She’s a widow, but she prefers to remain incognito. I’m sure you understand.”

Vivien’s chest squeezed so tight she could hardly breathe, but she had to give Kit credit for trying.

“A veiled widow. How very delightful.” Aden gave her a graceful, mocking bow. “Mrs. Smith, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Vivien hardly knew how to respond. She’d never seen this side of Aden before, and it unnerved her to the point of idiocy. But as much as Aden’s anger unsettled her, she knew he wouldn’t expose her to damaging gossip. All she had to do was finish this game and make a graceful retreat. Yes, she would be subjected to a stinging lecture from her erstwhile suitor, but it would be a small price to pay for the tidy purse she’d won tonight. As long as he didn’t tell Cyrus about tonight’s escapade, she and Kit should escape fairly well.

Holding on to her nerve by the merest thread, she gave a dignified nod by way of greeting.

“As you can see,” Lord Castle sneered, “the lady’s words are few and far between. One would think she had something to hide. I, for one, would be delighted to discover her secrets.”

Vivien froze at the malicious tone. Castle hadn’t earned his name as the Vicious Viscount for nothing. She rarely encountered him since he usually shunned
ton
events, but she had little doubt he would relish destroying her reputation if he discovered her identity.

Aden’s gaze flitted to Castle. “My lord, I see you are between hands. Perhaps you would be willing to relinquish your seat to me. I’m certain you must want to stretch your legs, or perhaps visit the supper room.”

Alarmed, Vivien peered at Aden through her veiling. Castle looked as flummoxed as she felt.

“Why the hell would I want to do that? I’m in the middle of a game. You’re mad if you think I’m going to give you my place.”

Aden gave him a smile so cold Vivien half expected to see icicles form on Castle’s long nose.

“Then you’d better reserve a cell in Bedlam,” Aden said, “because I intend to take your seat. It’s up to you how easily I do so.”

Castle leaned comfortably back in his chair. “Don’t be a fool, St. George. I’m sure the lady will be happy to oblige you in whatever way you fancy once our game is finished.”

Vivien’s breath caught in her throat when Aden gave a negligent shrug. “Have it your way,” he said, moving toward the viscount.

Castle came to his feet just as Aden reached him. Vivien also scrambled up, although she hadn’t a clue what she could do to prevent the impending mayhem.

Fortunately, she didn’t have to do anything. Griffin Steele suddenly appeared from nowhere, sliding gracefully into the small space still separating the two men.

“Gentlemen,” he said in a soothing voice. “This is unnecessary. I’m sure we can find a satisfactory solution to this little problem.”

He turned his back on Aden, which surprised Vivien. Aden was a quiet man and not given to dramatics—except for tonight, apparently—but no one in his right mind would underestimate him. But Steele didn’t seem worried in the least.

“Get the hell out of my way, Steele,” Castle snarled. “That bastard insulted me, and I’ll not put up with it.”

Steele chuckled indulgently. “In this establishment, my lord, bastards are always welcome. I suggest you remember that if you wish to continue taking advantage of my hospitality. Now, why don’t you let the captain take your place? In exchange, I’ll fetch a bottle from my private stock of champagne for you to enjoy at supper. Compliments of the house, naturally.”

He raised a long, elegant hand and beckoned to a woman hovering over one of the other tables. She swiftly came to her employer’s side, waiting to do his bidding.

“Eloise will be happy to escort you to the supper room, Lord Castle,” he said, making it sound like an order.

Steele was neither as tall nor as broad as Lord Castle or Aden, but he possessed a lean, graceful physique that held whipcord strength. And at this moment, a lethal and focused sort of energy shimmered in the air around him. If there was danger in the air, it came from the proprietor of The Cormorant, not from Castle or even from Aden.

In fact, Aden had stepped back a few paces and crossed his arms over his chest, assuming a relaxed pose and looking positively amused. Vivien peered at him, amazed to see a small but genuine smile shaping his mouth.

Mystified, she sank back into her chair. What in heaven’s name was going on?

Finally, Castle shuffled his feet and his gaze cut sideways to Eloise. “Oh, devil take it! Have it your way. But I have no doubt she’ll fleece you too, St. George. She’s a sharp, unless I miss my guess.” He cast an angry glance at Steele. “Didn’t expect that sort of thing at The Cormorant.”

“Shocking, I know,” Steele replied in a soothing voice. “I will take care of it immediately.” He drew Eloise forward, and she took Castle’s arm and began to lead him away. Steele followed, but not before he gave Aden an oddly conspiratorial wink.

As Aden took Castle’s seat, Vivien let out a shaky breath. Although grateful one crisis had been averted, she did not look forward to the next.

“Well, that was amusing,” drawled Barrymore. “But perhaps we could turn our attention back to the business at hand.”

“Of course,” said Aden, who began to deal the cards.

Across the table, Kit rolled his eyes at her, panicked. Since Vivien could do nothing about that, she picked up her cards and arranged them. Aden had adroitly backed her into a corner, and there was no choice but to gather her wits and play through the rest of the rubber.

The next hour turned into an epic nightmare as Aden’s tally steadily increased. Even worse, her nerve deserted her as the evening wore on and Aden trumped her repeatedly. Kit made it worse, taking foolish risks in an effort to recoup their losses.

But it was more than simple mistakes and lost nerves. It was Aden. Vivien had played against the best, but she’d never encountered someone as skilled and intuitive as him. He never faltered, never made a bad move. Blast him, the cards had so far favored him too, giving him one strong hand after another.

Two hours later, Vivien found herself staring in horror at her tally. Not only had she lost all her winnings from earlier in the evening, she’d lost most of her stake, too. Rather than acquiring the means to rescue Kit, she’d made the situation infinitely worse.

“Well, St. George,” Barrymore said with a laugh. “It was a lucky night for me when you walked in the door. So, Mrs. Smith. Another rubber? A chance to recoup your losses?”

Vivien swallowed with a throat as dry as cinders. Panic tightened her chest, making it impossible to speak. Disaster no longer simply waited at her door. It had moved in and taken up residence.

“I think not,” Aden said. “Mrs. Smith is finished with games, at least for this portion of the evening.” He rose to his feet and held out a hand. “In fact, I will be escorting her home.”

Barrymore studied them for a moment and then guffawed. “So, you do know her. I thought this felt personal. Well, have at it, my friend. God knows you’ve earned the right to take your pleasure with the lady.”

From the look on Aden’s face, pleasure was the last thing on his mind.

“Thank you, sir,” she managed in a low tone. “But Mr. Shaw will be escorting me home tonight.”

As if waking from a trance, Kit lurched to his feet.

“No, he won’t.” Aden’s tone brooked no opposition. “You will be leaving with me, immediately.”

“See here, St. George,” Kit spluttered. “You have no right to order us around.”

Aden ignored him, instead gently grasping her hand and drawing her to her feet. Vivien felt like a puppet on a string, unable to resist.

Kit jerked forward. “I’m warning you, St. George. You have no right to touch my—”

“Be quiet,” Vivien hissed. She cast a quick look about the room. As she feared, they were drawing attention. She took Aden’s arm, shaking her head at Kit.

Aden tucked her against him and ushered her to the door. When they reached it, he moved behind her, keeping one hand upon her waist. His touch was light yet possessive, and a shivering sensation vibrated through every part of her body. She felt the heat of him along her back, a barely contained blaze. That was his anger, so carefully repressed during their game and now struggling to break free.

Vivien sighed as she made her way down the stairs to the front door. Her actions had tempted the devil, and now he would surely take his due.

Vivien, Aden, and Kit huddled under the porch of Cormorant House, avoiding the icy rain spattering down. Between the foul weather and the late hour, Jermyn Street stood quiet with only a few carriages waiting in front of the gaming hells and bawdy houses.

Expelling a tense breath, Vivien threw back her veils to let the air cool her overheated skin. She didn’t relish explaining her behavior to Aden, but she was grateful to quit the stifling, nerve-wracking environment of the club.

It was a temporary respite, unfortunately. Aden might have a bone to pick with her, but she had a whole graveyard to pick with him. His meddling had cost her four thousand pounds. Not only would Kit be unable to make a down payment to the moneylender, but Vivien had also lost a significant portion of her own savings, making it that much harder to stake herself at the tables. And the fact that Aden was the man who’d fleeced her made it that much more difficult to bear.

He glanced down at her and let out a smothered curse. With a quick movement, he flipped her veils back down over the brim of her hat.

“What are you doing?” she snapped, grabbing the swaths of fabric to pull them back up. “I’m about to expire from the heat of that dreadful place.”

“We’re not in the clear, in case you’ve failed to notice,” he growled. “And if you found it so damn dreadful, I wonder why the hell you stayed.”

She ignored the second part of his statement, instead making an exaggerated show of perusing the streetscape. “There isn’t a person in sight. And I’ll thank you to keep your hands to yourself.”

“Yes, by God,” Kit jumped in, flapping his arms in an agitated fashion. “You’ve truly rolled us up tonight, Captain. Vivi had Castle and Barrymore on the ropes until you came along and spoiled everything. What the devil are we to do now?”

Aden slowly turned and fastened a murderous gaze on Kit. Even in the flickering light of the door lamp, Vivien could read the frigid disbelief in his dark eyes.

She laid a hand on her brother’s arm, pressing it in silent warning. Lord knows she shared his frustration and anger, but a brawl on the front steps of a gambling house would be a disaster.

Kit subsided with a grumble, satisfying himself with a seething stare. He’d been fighting his resentment even before tonight’s disaster, the result of Aden’s grilling this afternoon. According to Kit, Aden had thoroughly dressed him down and had ordered him to stay away from the cent per cents, the tables, and the racetrack. Vivien had supported Aden’s view, at least until he’d shown up tonight and cleaned her out.

“Why are we standing here, anyway?” Kit demanded of Aden. “It’s bloody freezing.”

“I’m waiting for Mr. Steele’s carriage so I can escort Lady Vivien home. You, however, are free to do as you bloody well choose. In fact, why don’t you take yourself off immediately? I find I’ve had quite enough of your baffle-headed idiocy for one day,” Aden said with brutal frankness.

Vivien resisted the urge to slap her hand to her forehead. Was she always to be surrounded by bad-tempered males who ordered people about?

She forestalled Kit’s bristling response by stepping between the two men. The sooner she separated them, the better. “Kit, there’s no need for you to stand around in this horrible weather, and it’s not so late, after all. Weren’t you going to join some of your friends later? Or perhaps you could drop in to your club for a brandy.”

Her brother goggled at her. “Vivi, it’s after three in the morning, and it’s freezing out. After the hellish night we’ve had, all I want to do is go home to bed.”

“Then you can walk to Blake House,” Aden said. “The fresh air will do you good. I need to speak privately with
Mrs. Smith.
”

He took her arm and nudged her down the steps as an elegant landau rattled out from the mews behind Jermyn Street. When the coachman pulled up in front of them, Aden pulled her over to the street. He opened the door, wrapped his big hands around her waist, and tossed her up with ruthless efficiency onto the cushioned bench. Vivien let out a startled squawk and fell back on the squabs, her veils tangling up as her hat pitched forward over her eyes.

As she struggled to right herself, the carriage dipped with Aden’s added weight.

“But why can’t we all ride home together?” Kit called in a plaintive voice.

Muttering under his breath, Aden knocked on the roof of the carriage and the coachman set the horses bowling down the street, leaving poor Kit behind. Vivien finally managed to push back her hat and free herself from her entangling veils.

“That was incredibly rude,” she said. “There was no reason Kit couldn’t have come with us.”

He leaned back on the opposite seat and slowly crossed his arms across his brawny chest. Masculine ire shimmered in the air between them. “There was a very good reason. I was on the verge of killing him for being such an idiot, and for allowing you to act like an idiot, too.”

The bubble of frustration building in her chest popped. “Everything was fine until you came along,” she snapped, waving her hand. “I had the situation perfectly under control.”

He stared in open disbelief. “You were gambling in the most notorious hell in London, challenging two degenerate rakes. Do you have any idea what would have happened if they discovered your identity? Besmirching your reputation would have been the least of it. Both would have had no compunction to try to blackmail you into their beds—probably at the same time, too. You rendered yourself completely vulnerable to their foul advances. By even stepping foot in such a place you acted the worst sort of jade. After what you’ve been through, I had not thought you so careless of your safety. It would appear I’ve been sadly mistaken.”

Vivien flinched, stunned by the disdain on his features, so harsh in the dim light of the carriage lamp. His words slashed her pride into a thousand ribbons. She pressed a gloved hand over her breastbone as if to calm the sickening gyrations of her heart. Closing her eyes, she took slow, deep breaths.

She opened her eyes and their gazes tangled, his now displaying less anger but more frustration. As she shifted in her seat, her knees bumped against his long, booted legs. The small space enclosed them in claustrophobic intimacy, and a heightened sense of emotion swirled in the air between them, fracturing the air in Vivien’s lungs into uneven breaths.

He sighed and pressed an index finger to the bridge of his nose. “Vivien—”

“I did what I needed to do,” she snapped. “And if that forced me to act the jade, then so be it. But why did you challenge me in so callous a fashion? Now what am I to do? I could ill afford to lose even one pound of my savings, and now I have lost thousands. Both Kit and I will suffer for it.”

“If you had stayed home as I requested,” he growled, leaning forward, “you would not have been placed in so untenable a position.” His broad shoulders seemed to fill up half the carriage.

She resisted the impulse to shrink into the squabs. Aden didn’t frighten her, not really. She knew he would never harm her. But with that glowering expression on his stone-cut features and his air of primal, aggrieved masculinity, he cut an intimidating figure.

Well, she would not be intimidated. She adopted her haughtiest air, trying to stare down her nose at him. But even squashed into the carriage, he loomed over her.

“I have no intention of sitting home like a poor dab of a thing, unable to influence the course of my own life,” she said. “I am more than capable of looking after myself.”

He slapped his palm to his forehead. “Really? That didn’t appear to be the case when I found you locked in a grotty cave just over a week ago.”

Her dignity abandoned her in a rush. “Yes, really,” she bit out. “And you are a brute to throw that ugly memory in my face, and no gentleman for fleecing me in that card game tonight. You have put me in an awful position when you promised to protect me, and I will
never
forgive you for that.”

He responded with a truly foul curse, and she couldn’t help uttering a gasp. He dug into the pocket of his greatcoat and drew out a thick wad of notes.

“The money is yours, Vivien. Did you really think I would keep it?” He flung the packet onto her lap. “I do not fleece women, and I especially do not fleece
you
.”

Her mind blanked as she stared at the notes. When a few of them fluttered to the floor, Aden snatched them up with an impatient hand.

“Um, so does that mean you do fleece men?” she asked. It was a ridiculous thing to say, but Aden had a knack for stunning her into stupidity.

Her demented attempt at levity did nothing to lighten his grim visage. She swallowed nervously. Finally, the most pertinent question forced itself to the front of her brain.

“Why?” she asked. “Why would you do this?”

“Let me show you, Vivien.”

He reached across and snatched her up in a hard grip, pulling her across the intimate space and into his lap. All the breath whooshed out of her lungs as she grabbed his shoulders. Her heart tripped over itself, racing to catch up with the excitement and anxiety zinging along her nerves.

Clutching the thick wool fabric of his coat, she gazed up at him. His raven eyes burned with heat, and he showed his white teeth in a smile that looked more like a wolf’s snarl.

“Wha . . . what are you doing?” she stammered.

“I’m answering your question,” he murmured, the dark rumble making her shiver.

Then he moved, tilting her back over his arm as he swooped in to kiss her. His mouth fastened over hers. Not gently, either. He plundered her lips, demanding entrance with a masculine arrogance that swept past her resistance in one skipped heartbeat.

Not that Vivien put up much of a fight. She stiffened momentarily, then collapsed in a swift rush of burgeoning pleasure, whimpering with an odd feeling of relief as his tongue swept boldly into her mouth.

When she softened beneath him, Aden’s touch gentled. Even as he continued to kiss her, feeding the raw heat with sweeps of his tongue, he slipped a hand under her knees and corrected her inelegant sprawl. He brought her legs up, letting her feet rest on the bench as he settled her more comfortably onto his lap. Her bottom nestled into his groin and—

Her eyes flew open and she jerked back, breaking the contact of their lips. She’d felt
that
hardness before, the night of her rescue when he’d taken her before him on his horse. His, er, manly appendage had been nudging into her then, too. It felt even bigger tonight, and any doubts she’d been harboring about his interest died a quick death.

For several tense seconds they stared at each other. He didn’t relinquish his grip, but nor did he attempt to return to her mouth. Instead, he studied her face, his dark eyes both acutely watchful and smoldering with desire. The combination made her head spin.

As if she were in a trance, her hand drifted up to touch her lips. They felt hot and swollen. His pupils seemed to dilate, flaring as he tracked her movement. Vivien let her hand drop to his chest, sliding her fingers past the lapels of his coat to clutch the fine linen of his cravat. Beneath her fingertips, his heart thrummed in a rapid, steady beat, his life and heat flowing into her hand.

“Yes, well, I think I understand your explanation,” she whispered. “But I might need further clarification.”

He groaned, resting his chin on the top of her head. “Christ, woman, you drive me mad.”

His arm tightened around her shoulders, snuggling her more closely against his broad chest. He felt so wonderful—so hot and so strong—that she couldn’t help wriggling a bit with delight. His erection pressed against her bottom, and her pleasurable little ache of desire made her squirm even more.

Aden hissed out a breath and his head came up. A flush crept across his chiseled features and his eyes grew heavy-lidded, seductive, and hungry.

A second later and his mouth took hers again. He thrust past her lips, feeding her with intense, devouring kisses. Vivien could do nothing but surrender, opening herself in a way she’d never done before. Not for any man.

Shaking with longing, she struggled deeper into his embrace as she pressed upward into the kiss. She wanted everything from him, even though she hardly understood what
everything
was. But when Aden’s other hand slipped under the hem of her skirts, trailing up her stocking-clad leg, she moaned and wrapped an arm around his neck. She wanted all of him, and even though it felt like he was kissing her with his entire body, it wasn’t enough. When his long fingers, their calloused tips sending delicious shivers across her skin, trailed up past the tops of her garters, her body seemed to melt. Almost unconsciously she parted her thighs, silently urging him to take whatever he wanted.

The carriage clattered to a halt, jerking them both. Aden’s hand froze on her thigh and he broke the kiss. With a muttered oath he hauled himself up, bringing her with him.

Vivien’s head swam as she came upright. She clutched at him, struggling to gather her scattered wits. Aden continued to mutter imprecations under his breath even as he hurriedly pulled down her skirts and straightened her clothing.

“What’s wrong?” she asked in a breathless voice. “You look angry.”

He lifted her from his lap like a sack of feathers and deposited her on the other bench. Vivien stared at him, blinking at the sudden change in his demeanor. Only moments ago she could have sworn he’d been as swept away by passion as she. But now he vibrated with tension, and almost looked . . . flustered?

Aden St. George, flustered? Impossible.

“What’s wrong?” he repeated her words with a fierce glower. “Bloody hell, Vivien. Another minute and you would have been half naked, with my hands all over you. Are you completely lacking in any sense of self-protection?”

Scowling, Vivien snatched her hat from the floor of the carriage—it must have fallen when he grabbed her—and jammed it back on her head. Cursing under her breath, she struggled to untangle the layers of netting twisted around the hat’s brim. After tonight’s escapade, she would
never
wear a veil again.