Secrets for Seducing a Royal Bodyguard (25 page)

When he hesitated, she shook her head impatiently. “It’s my life. I have a right to know.”

The grooves around his mouth deepened, telling her how much he didn’t want to explain. She met his gaze, holding it so he would understand her intent.

“Very well,” he finally said. “There are rumors about the prince that Dominic and I have yet to confirm entirely to our satisfaction.”

“And those rumors are?”

“That he is guilty of murdering one of his servants, although it was never proven. But whatever did happen, his family went to great pains to cover it up.”

Vivien closed her eyes, feeling nauseous. When she opened them, Aden carefully watched her, as if expecting her to fall apart. Who could blame her if she did?

“Is there anything else I need to know?” Her voice sounded little better than a croak.

“That’s enough for now,” he replied in a gentle tone.

Oh, God.
There was more?

She steeled herself to hear it. “Tell me everything.”

“It’s not necessary.”

“I want to know,” she said doggedly. “I have a right.”

His reluctance was evident, but he finally complied. “There have been rumors about his treatment of women. Ugly rumors. But they are as yet unconfirmed as well. Until such time as they are, I think it best not to discuss them.”

The stone set of his face indicated he’d reached the limit of what he was willing to share. And given how queasy her stomach felt right at this moment, perhaps that was for the best.

“I see,” she managed. “So, what you’re saying . . .”

“I’m saying that we cannot allow anyone to know your whereabouts until Dominic can bring proof to the Russian ambassador that the prince is responsible for the attacks on you. Until that time, you must go into hiding.”

With shaking hands, Vivien pulled the edges of the wool dressing gown tightly around her. The roaring blaze in the hearth filled the room with glowing warmth, but she was freezing.

And terrified, which irritated her immensely. Yes, it was an awful situation, but that was no excuse for going to pieces. “Would it not be better to stay in London and confront the situation? Go to the ambassador now? I can tell him what happened that night in my brother’s study. That, combined with Sir Dominic’s suspicions might be enough . . .”

She trailed off again as Aden grimly shook his head.

“It’s not enough. Khovansky will simply maintain that your brother gave him to understand that his expectations were well founded, and that he simply acted on those expectations with the full intention of making you his wife.” His mouth curled downward as if he’d just tasted something sour. “I’m sure the prince would make it clear to the ambassador that he would be more than willing to correct any misunderstandings by offering to make you his bride.”

Vivien couldn’t help scoffing at that. “Surely Count Lieven would not be so easily fooled!”

“Perhaps not. But Prince Ivan comes from one of the most powerful of the Russian ruling families. It’s hard for us to understand just how influential that makes him.”

Vivien frowned. “And that would excuse him from crimes committed in our country?”

Aden turned his palms up in a frustrated gesture. “The British Crown will not wish to offend either the prince or the ambassador. Matters with the Russians are still in a delicate state. After all, it’s been less than a year since an ambassador was even assigned from Russia to the Court of St. James.” He shook his head. “Count Lieven will not appreciate such allegations being dumped in his lap without concrete evidence.”

Anger and frustration drove her to her feet again. “The man can have me abducted, he can assault me, and in the process of trying to abduct me again he can kill a man, and yet there’s nothing we can do about it?”

Aden rose to his feet, too. “Not right now. I understand the situation is frustrating, but Dominic and I both feel the safest course of action is to get you safely out of harm’s way until the matter can be properly resolved.”

She stared up at him. His eyes held a great deal of sympathy, but also determination.

“Where do you propose to take me?” she asked in a disgruntled voice. She didn’t mean to sound ungrateful but she loathed the idea of running away.

“To a small spa town up north, near Buckminster. St. Clement is very quiet, especially at this time of year, and the clientele is mostly elderly and of limited means. It’s far enough off the beaten path that the chances of anyone recognizing you are practically nonexistent.”

Vivien could barely hold back a groan. She wasn’t fond of country towns at the best of times, but this particular place sounded dreadful. “How delightful. And what will I do once I arrive in this idyllic spot?”

“Stay out of trouble,” he said dryly.

“I never get into trouble, at least not on purpose,” she protested.

He rolled his eyes, not even deigning to reply. Well, she could hardly blame him, but she wasn’t quite ready to give in. “I fail to see how that would entirely eliminate the chance that someone might recognize me. If the point is simply to get me out of town, why don’t I just retreat to my brother’s estate in Somerset? Surely that’s far enough away to suit your purpose.”

“Because everyone within ten miles of the estate would know you were there. You are much too recognizable at the best of times. Besides, in St. Clement you will be living under a false name.”

Her jaw sagged open. Surely she hadn’t heard that correctly. “I beg your pardon?”

“I know it seems odd,” he said, crossing to the bell pull in the corner. “But it’s the best way to avoid detection.”

Vivien was beginning to wonder if she’d fallen asleep again and was dreaming. If she was, it was certainly the oddest dream she’d ever had. “I don’t really understand any of this.”

“I know,” he said sympathetically. “But your breakfast will be here in just a few minutes, and then you can have a nice cup of tea. You’ll feel much more yourself after you’ve had something to eat and drink.” He took her arm and steered her back to the sofa, ignoring the scowl she directed at him.

“Don’t patronize me, Aden. I don’t like it one bit.”

A fleeting smile touched his lips. “I wouldn’t dream of it, my lady.”

She subsided onto the chaise with a grumble. Actually, now that she thought of it, she was rather hungry. She hadn’t eaten anything since early last evening.

Aden stood over her, watching her with a faint smile on his lips. He looked so handsome and so powerfully masculine, even as fatigued as he clearly was, that her heart turned over in her chest. She had no idea how he truly felt about her, but she knew he would do anything to protect her, no matter the risk to his own safety—all while treating her with gentleness and a consideration she hadn’t experienced since the death of her father.

Little wonder she’d fallen in love with him.

She blinked and went still. The phrase had slipped into her mind so easily, like a warm breeze fluttering past gauzy curtains in an open window. But once inside, it rocked through her with the force of a summer storm, settling in her heart with a sense of profound inevitability.

And with it came the sense of a kind of peace she’d never known.

But on the heels of
that
came a burgeoning fear, because once this was over and Aden was gone from her life, she knew such peace would disappear from her life forever.

“What troubles you, my lady?” he asked gently. He sat down gingerly next to her on the chaise, as if afraid to jostle her.

“Oh, nothing,” she said brightly in a ghastly attempt to overcompensate. “Why do you ask?”

Now he stared as if her brain was leaking out of her ears, which it might well be given that inane remark.

“I’ve been pushing you too hard,” he said. “Do you need my mother?”

There was little Lady Thornbury could do in this particular situation, and if Aden ever guessed how Vivien truly felt about him, he’d probably run screaming from the room. She’d never met a man so determined to keep himself at a distance from the people in his life. In all fairness to him, however, he had been anything but distant last night, before the attack.

“I’m fine,” she said, giving him a reassuring smile. “I’m sure I’ll be even better once I’ve had a cup of tea.”

He rose and strode to the door, looking out into the hallway. “I don’t know what’s taking so long,” he said with a scowl.

“I’m sure breakfast will be here soon. After all it’s only five o’clock. The servants will hardly be up.”

“We need to be getting on the road. I have no idea why it’s taking my mother so long to pack,” he groused.

“It’s not as if I have clothes lying about your mother’s house,” she said patiently. “Why can’t I simply go home, pack, and tell my family what’s happening? Mamma will be bound to worry unless she hears from me soon.”

He crossed to the window and drew aside the curtains, peering out into the street. “My mother will see Lady Blake later this morning and explain the situation. She’ll also ensure that a story is put about town that you’ve gone to visit friends up north for several weeks.”

Vivien frowned. It all seemed so unnecessarily complicated. “But why can’t—”

She stumbled to a halt when a horrible thought struck her. When Aden cut her a narrow glance, she sighed. “Cyrus. He’s part of this, isn’t he?”

He turned to her, keeping his back to the window. The pity she saw on his face made her stomach twist.

“We cannot rule it out,” he said. “For safety’s sake, no one in your family can know exactly where you will be staying. Not that we think Kit or your mother has anything to do with this,” he added hastily, taking in her expression. “But if they knew our plans, they might inadvertently reveal them, or—”

“Or Cyrus might blackmail it out of them by refusing to cover their bills.”

Bitterness rolled over her in a great, choking tide. She had known for years that she could not depend on her family, but she had never expected to be so thoroughly betrayed. At the most critical juncture of her life, she felt entirely alone.

Aden came and sat next to her again. He looked down at her hands, clenched in a tight ball in her lap. Gently, he prised them free of each other, lifting one to press a soft kiss on the back. “You are not alone, my dear girl, although I know you must think you are.”

She stared at him, stunned by his change in demeanor. His dark gaze, warm and steady, sent heat filtering back through her cold limbs.

“My mother cares a great deal for you,” he said, “as does Sir Dominic. We will let nothing harm you, I promise.”

She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “And what about you?” she whispered. “How do
you
feel about me?”

His lips parted as he drew in a hesitating breath. Then the door opened and his mother came in, followed by the butler rolling a cart.

“Breakfast has finally arrived, my dears,” Lady Thornbury trilled in a cheerful voice.

Aden rose from the chaise and crossed to his mother, leaving Vivien once more crushingly alone.

Vivien levelled another glare at Aden, although he certainly couldn’t see it. He’d spent most of their journey with his long legs stretched out as much as possible in the cramped space of the travelling coach, and with his hat tilted over his eyes. How the man could sleep under these circumstances was beyond her, and her resentment swelled with every mile marker that passed. Yes, she could now admit she was madly in love with him, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t an immensely irritating man—both in his ability to adapt to any circumstance without apparent discomfort and in his all too obvious intention to have as little contact with her as possible. For the first hour of their journey, she struggled with a wounded sense of rejection as he’d done his best to shut her out. Now, hours later, all she wanted to do was box his ears and get out of the blasted carriage.

With a weary sigh, she pulled off the spectacles he’d made her wear and rubbed the dents on her nose. She still couldn’t believe it necessary to wear so ridiculous a disguise, but Aden had insisted. He’d also insisted she wear the ugliest mustard-colored pelisse known to man, along with a bonnet with a poke so large she almost jabbed his eyes out every time she got in and out of the coach. That was
entirely
his fault, as she’d told him in no uncertain terms when he’d had the nerve to let out a long-suffering sigh at their last stop.

She peered out the window as dusk settled over the dreary November landscape. It would be full dark soon and she could only hope they would stop for the night. Surely even Aden wouldn’t insist that the horses pick their way across rutted country lanes, risking everyone’s life and limb.

Retrieving her reticule from where it had fallen to the floor, Vivien slipped the spectacles inside. She was sick of wearing them, sick of the mud and the dirt and, most of all, sick of Prince Ivan bloody Khovansky for placing them all in this terrible fix.

“Put your spectacles back on, Vivien.”

Startled by the unexpected command, she jumped in her seat as the carriage hit a massive rut, bouncing her up in the air. She landed with a jolt and a stab of pain shot from her rump all the way up to her shoulders.

Aden, with his brawny physique, hadn’t moved a jot. In fact, he was in the exact same position as he’d been for the last hour—arms folded across his chest and hat tipped over his face. How in God’s name had he seen what she was doing?

“I thought you were asleep,” she muttered, leaning forward to massage the base of her spine.

“I was, until you started making so much noise.”

“I certainly wasn’t. I was simply putting away these ridiculous spectacles. It’s pitch-dark out, and I highly doubt anyone is peering into passing carriages in the hope of catching a glimpse of me.”

He pushed up the brim of his slouched hat and stared at her. Despite her assertion, some light still glimmered low on the horizon, enough for her to see his cool gaze.

“Nonetheless, you will wear the spectacles at all times.” He glanced at the gruesome bonnet, which she’d tossed on the seat some time ago. “As well as your hat.”

“Perhaps you’d like me to wear them when I’m asleep, too. Just in case Prince Ivan jumps out of the closet or out from under the bed,” she retorted.

“Vivien.”

She couldn’t mistake the quiet warning in his voice. With exaggerated care, she removed the spectacles from her reticule and placed them back on her nose. Then she mashed the bonnet down on her much-abused coiffure as she glared at him. “Honestly, I know we need to be careful, but you act as if there are villains hiding behind every rock and tree. And this disguise is ridiculous. I’m surprised your mother had clothing this ugly in her house.”

Aden straightened up, twisting his torso in a stretch and then flexing his arms. Vivien’s irritation stuttered and died as she watched the ripple of his well-defined muscles under his coat. Unlike her, the cold didn’t seem to bother him. In fact, he’d slipped out of his greatcoat hours ago, piling it on top of her lap blanket to help keep her warm.

A stab of guilt had her mentally wincing. Despite his cool demeanor, Aden had done everything in his power to make her comfortable. Still, she wished he would explain what would happen when they reached the village of St. Clement. He’d mentioned something about
hiding in plain sight,
but hadn’t explained the cryptic comment. In fact, she had no idea what would happen when they arrived at the inn—if they actually stopped for the night. Other than Aden’s well-armed coachman and groom, they were travelling without any servants. Not having a maid to lend her some air of respectability in public seemed problematic, even if she was tricked out in a ridiculous disguise.

Aden narrowed his eyes at her. “The disguise is necessary, and you will wear it for as long as I tell you to.”

She repressed the urge to stick her tongue out at him. “You are the most cautious person I’ve ever met. One might think you were a spy, with all this wearing of costumes and skulking about.”

If she hadn’t been looking right at him, and if the last dying rays of the sun hadn’t chosen that exact moment to blaze across his face, she would have missed his unspoken response. But she caught the surprise that flashed across his features. Just as swiftly, it was replaced by a carefully blank expression.

Vivien peered at him, dumbfounded. But then all the small, disparate pieces of information she’d collected and stored in her memory rearranged themselves like puzzle pieces, snapping together with smooth precision. His reticence, his obscure military background, the gaps in his personal and family history, his uncanny abilities and remarkable physical skills. Even his relationship with Sir Dominic, whose dealings with the government always seemed so murky, suddenly sprang into focus.

“Oh, good Lord,” she breathed. “You
are
a spy.”

A muscle twitched in his jaw. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m a soldier,” he said with what he must have thought was an astonished look.

Though his denial was immediate, even slightly incredulous, it nevertheless confirmed her suspicions.

“Oh, my God,” she said, pushing her fingers under the spectacles and rubbing her eyes. The one man in the world she’d fallen in love with, and he was a spy. No wonder he worked so hard to keep her at a distance. From every lurid tale she’d ever heard, it seemed spies weren’t keen on a life of domestic tranquility.

She opened her eyes and inspected him over the top of her spectacles. His expression was closed, and he’d folded his arms across his chest again as if trying to shut her out. If she had a particle of sense she would take the hint and mind her own business.

“Does your mother know?” she asked, ignoring her better instincts.

“This is a ridiculous discussion, and we are not having it,” he growled.

Another revelation struck her with blinding force. “Oh, heavens! Of course she does. She can run rings around anyone in the
ton,
including Sir Dominic. It’s no wonder she has so much influence in the political sphere. I’ve heard more than one man say Lady Thornbury would make a better prime minister than Liverpool.” She thought about that. “I must say, I’m inclined to agree, since your mother is the most intelligent person I know.”

Aden stared at her with a bemused expression. His mouth opened and then closed, rather like a fish thrown up onto a riverbank.

“But I can’t imagine your father was very happy about your career choice,” she mused. “Lord Thornbury was a terrible high-stickler, wasn’t he? From what I’ve heard, spying is not considered a profession for gentlemen.”

“That’s enough,” he finally snapped, his voice so cold it was a miracle she didn’t freeze.

Vivien winced, annoyed at her own insensitivity. But the idea of Aden as a
spy
had truly knocked her back on her heels. “I’m sorry. I suppose you’re not allowed to discuss these sorts of things. I promise I won’t tell anyone. I’m actually very good at keeping secrets. Really, I am.”

A moment later, the chaise clattered into the yard of a small coaching inn. But even over the noise of the wheels on cobblestone, Vivien swore she heard Aden mutter a truly stupendous oath.

 

 

Vivien rolled over on the lumpy mattress and squished up the even lumpier pillow, trying to get comfortable. She’d been lying awake for hours, every nerve in her body jangling with a frustrating combination of fatigue and agitation. To make matters worse, she was intensely aware of Aden bedded down on the floor on the other side of the room. Unlike her, he appeared completely undisturbed by their bizarre situation or by the hard floor that served as his bed. She supposed one learned to sleep anywhere when one was a spy, or perhaps he’d learned to do it in spy school—if there even was such a thing.

Not that she would ever know. Aden had refused to say another word about it, and had told her severely before leaving the carriage that she was to drop the subject and leave all the talking to him. Then he’d pulled out a plain gold ring and slipped it onto her finger. She’d stared at it, dazed by the implications. But she’d snapped out of it when he told the innkeeper they would be taking only one room, under the name of Mr. and Mrs. Edwards. Of course, she’d gaped at Aden like an idiot, unable to utter even a single word.

Which had probably been his plan all along.

“I’m sorry, but it’s the only way,” he’d said, not sounding the least bit apologetic. “We could not bring your maid, nor can I leave you alone to sleep. It’s not safe.”

Aghast, Vivien had darted a look at the sole bed, tucked under the eaves of the ancient-looking timbered roof.

“Where will you sleep?” she’d managed in a squeaky voice. Rationally, she agreed with his logic, but the idea of sleeping with Aden, even if only for show, made her skin prickle with rattled nerves.

Taking pity on her, he’d explained that he’d sleep on the floor, right in front of the door. She’d calmed down a bit after that but the rest of the evening passed in a strained atmosphere. They’d eaten dinner in almost total silence as Vivien was too distracted by what lay before her—both tonight and on the morrow—to pursue her curiosity over Aden’s unusual profession.

Fortunately, he’d given her some privacy after dinner, going down to the taproom so as to allow her to wash and ready herself for bed. Returning a short time later, he’d retrieved one of the pillows from the bed, extinguished the candles, and stretched his long frame out on the floor, fully dressed and wrapped in his coat. Only then had Vivien flung off her dressing gown and scurried under the coarse but thankfully clean bed linens, grateful for the darkness that covered her silly blushes. After saying her prayers, she’d closed her eyes, so exhausted she was convinced she’d immediately fall asleep.

But she hadn’t counted on her heightened awareness of Aden. And whenever she wasn’t thinking about him, all her other worries circled in her brain like a crazed flock of swallows, diving and swooping endlessly until she couldn’t think anymore. Every time she closed her exhausted eyes, an image of Jem’s lifeless body imprinted itself on her eyelids. Between that and the horrible sense that her life had completely unravelled at the seams, Vivien began to wonder if she would ever fall asleep again.

Whispering the curse she’d heard Aden mutter when getting out of the carriage—and feeling a bit better for it—she rolled over, thumped the pillow again, and ordered herself to sleep. Finally, she settled, and the soft darkness closed around her. Vivien’s eyelids fluttered shut, and she let out a quiet, slow breath.

And out of the depths of her mind, the image of Jem, bloodied and lifeless in the street, swam up at her with blinding force. Fear and horror enveloped her, squeezing the breath from her body.

She bolted upright, choking and gasping for air. In a blind panic, she propelled herself out of the high bed, thudding down onto the cold floor. Her feet slipped out from under her and she landed on her backside, letting out a startled yelp of pain.

“Christ, Vivien!”

She felt rather than saw Aden scramble up from his makeshift bed and cross to her with lightning speed. His arms went around her, pulling her up from her graceless sprawl. She peered up at him, but he was nothing but a large blur in the smothering darkness.

“Did you hurt yourself?” he asked in a worried voice.

She clutched at him, trembling from the shock of hitting the floor as well as lingering remnants of her awful vision. She couldn’t seem to catch her breath to speak.

“Hang on,” he said, gently lifting her onto the bed.

When his hands left her, she had to bite her tongue not to cry out. He moved as stealthily as a cat, barely making a sound as he crossed the room. Then she heard the scratch of a tinderbox and a candle flared into life. He carried the taper back, holding it in one hand as his gaze swept over her. As a blush spread to every part of her body his gaze fell upon, it occurred to her that the plain but finely spun cambric of her night rail afforded her modesty little protection.

She shifted, slanting a cautious glance at his handsome features, rendered even more starkly masculine in the glow cast by the small flame. Her heart contracted and she had to clamp down on the words trembling on the tip of her tongue, words that begged him to take her into his arms and hold her safe.

And even more dangerous words, too, ones that would reveal her true feelings. Ones that would ask him to do things no unmarried lady should ask a man to do.

He tipped her chin up, giving her a somber inspection. “Did you have a nightmare?”

How could a tone so gentle hit her with such blistering force? Swallowing a rush of tears, she gave a miserable nod. On top of everything else, now the poor man had to deal with a woman on the verge of hysteria.

“Did you hurt yourself when you fell out of bed?”

She had, but not in any place she felt comfortable discussing.