Secrets for Seducing a Royal Bodyguard (30 page)

“If I don’t care about that sort of thing,” she said in a matter-of-fact voice, “I don’t see why you should, either.”

Frustration started to build in his chest. Why could she not see how impossible it was? He’d chosen his path long ago, and it had forever marked him. She couldn’t begin to understand what loving him would mean for her.

“It’s not just my parentage that makes me ineligible for marriage, it’s what I do.” He gave her a hard stare, willing her to understand.

She adopted a patient expression. “Yes, you’re a spy. But you won’t be a spy forever, will you? I’m willing to wait.”

Now she was trying to manage him. “Vivien, you have no idea what you’re saying. The life I’ve led, the things I’ve done . . . it would be criminal for me to allow that to touch you. You are much too sheltered and innocent to understand—”

“Naturally, I couldn’t possibly understand what you’ve done. Oh, wait, I could,” she said sarcastically. “I saw it the night you rescued me. You stuck a knife into the ribs of that man outside the cave.”

“Have you forgotten how you reacted when you saw that man? You almost fainted.”

She rolled her eyes. “Of
course
I almost fainted. It was horrible. But I expect one doesn’t rescue people from kidnappers by playing games with them. You did what you had to do, and I’m so grateful for that.”

“Vivien—”

She held up a hand. “I understand that what you do is important. And I have told you that I’m willing to wait. Again, I ask you, what exactly is the problem?”

Aden clenched his fists against his thighs. He’d never expected her to be so bloody pragmatic about the whole thing. Christ, she was even beginning to make sense, and that scared the hell out of him. He couldn’t bear the thought of her in danger or in any way tainted by what he did. And if he married her or even gave her a hope of marriage, he would surely put her in harm’s way. His past would see to that.

He forced himself to harden his heart. “The problem is
you,
Vivien. You make this situation impossible.”

Her eyes widened but she held her ground. “I don’t understand.”

“By loving you, by having you in my life, you make me vulnerable. And when I am vulnerable, it puts you in danger. That is not something I can tolerate.”

Some of the color leached from her face. “Explain, please.”

“A few weeks before you were abducted, I was on a mission in France with a small team of agents. We had worked together for years and knew each other as well as we knew ourselves. One man, in particular, was an old friend and my closest associate. His name was John, and he would gladly have given his life for me or for any other member of our team.”

Aden paused, slowly opening his fists and smoothing his sweaty palms along his thighs.

“Go on,” Vivien prompted.

He glanced up and nodded. “John had previously been in Italy for some weeks, and he had taken up with a woman there—a beautiful and accomplished actress. When he travelled to Paris to meet up with the rest of us, he brought her with him.”

Vivien’s fine brows arched up, but she said nothing.

“I objected, of course,” Aden said, “but John would have none of it. He swore they were in love, and that she was exactly who she appeared to be. Nothing I said made any difference, and I finally gave up, but only on the understanding that he leave the Service at the end of the mission if he intended to remain with her.” He couldn’t hold back a bitter, self-mocking smile. “He loved her so much that he readily agreed.”

Vivien flinched and pulled the sheet more tightly around her breasts. “I can understand that.”

“Perhaps I can, too. Except John never got the chance to resign because his lover slit his throat while he slept. Then she stole the coded maps he was to carry back to England.”

He ignored Vivien’s choke of horror. “She was a spy for Bonapartists, you see, and had been using John all along. If I hadn’t been so bloody stupid and so willing to give my old friend the benefit of the doubt, I would have seen that and found a way to expose her deadly charade. It was all just too neat and convenient, but I let John’s emotions”—he corrected himself—“I let
my
emotions get in the way, and John’s death was the result.”

“That’s not true, Aden.”

She reached to touch him but he jumped to his feet, evading her. He couldn’t bear for her to try to comfort him, not when he didn’t deserve it.

“It is true,” he said, crossing to the fireplace. He glanced at her, noting the way she shivered, and then tossed a log from the wicker basket onto the burning embers. After he got the flames roaring again, he straightened to face her.

“What happened to the woman?” she asked.

“I killed her.”

Although Vivien’s face paled, her expression changed very little. “I understand. You had no other choice.”

He took two strides to reach her. “You understand nothing,” he growled, grabbing her naked shoulders. “A man in my line of work cannot afford emotional involvements. He cannot fall in love and have a family. It would make him vulnerable, like John. It would make
me
vulnerable, and I would make mistakes. Probably fatal mistakes.”

Her eyes spit blue fire. “Are you comparing me to John’s woman? A French spy and a murderess?”

“Of course not!” He gave her a gentle shake. “Don’t you see? It’s what I
feel
that’s the problem. When I’m with you, I can barely think. Emotions are a liability. They’re dangerous.
You’re
dangerous to me, and I’m dangerous to you.”

Her mouth flattened into a mulish line. “I do not accept that. I’ve never been so safe or happy as when I’m with you—despite the horrible circumstances.”

He felt his mouth twist into a sneer. “Tell that to poor Jem.”

She flinched in his grasp, and he let her go. He allowed his gaze to drift over her pale, slender beauty one last time, then pivoted on his heel and headed for the door.

“Aden, wait.”

The barrier around his heart snapped into place, repelling the aching plea in her voice.

Barely.

He glanced over his shoulder. She stood in the middle of the floor, wrapped in her wrinkled sheet like a forlorn, haphazard goddess. The desolation in her eyes almost killed him. But when she started to speak he held up a restraining hand. “I’m sorry, Vivien. It’s over.”

As he shut the door behind him, he told himself it was for the best—for both of them.

Aden wearily climbed the stairs to Dominic’s study after twenty-four hours on the road from St. Clement, with only his frustrated thoughts for company. But despite the continuous haring about in his brain, he remained convinced he’d made the right decision. Vivien would be safe with Dominic’s guards surrounding her, and he would be better off away from her seductive pull.

The terse note he’d left explaining his sudden departure would infuriate her, but there was little to be gained in belaboring the points he’d made their last night together. They had no future and the sooner he was out of her life, the better. Vivien would get over him easily enough. She had numerous and perfectly eligible suitors, any one of whom would make a better husband than he would.

As for him . . . before Vivien, he’d never given his heart to a woman and he never would again. She’d claimed him and he would never be entirely free of those bonds. But there was only one thing he could do for her now—find the evidence necessary to send Khovansky back to his cold Russian lair and allow Vivien to return to her rightful place in society.

He stood for a moment at the study door, cudgelling his thoughts into order. His chief wouldn’t be happy that he’d returned to London, but Aden had played babysitter long enough. It was time to bring this dangerous game to an end, and he couldn’t do that while cooling his heels in some godforsaken village up north.

When he finally opened the door he pulled up short, frowning at the sight of Dominic in close conversation with Griffin Steele, the remains of a breakfast tray on a low table between them. His chief looked up, a wintry expression collecting in his green gaze.

“The prodigal son returns,” Dominic said. “Imagine my surprise to receive your note telling me you were abandoning your post.”

Aden ignored the bait, instead nodding curtly to his cousin. “Griffin, how odd to see you at breakfast. A little early for you to be about, isn’t it?”

Griffin leaned back in his chair and gave him a raffish grin. “You might think so, especially considering the delectable little pigeon I was forced to leave in my bed, but your superior’s note was rather persuasive.” He gave Dominic a smile that bordered on the malicious. “In fact, he ordered me to appear immediately. If I weren’t such a trusting fellow, I do believe I would even consider the tone of the note to be rather threatening.”

Dominic cast Griffin a derisive glance. “I simply gave you a little incentive. If there’s anything I’ve come to realize over the years it’s that you are a tad reluctant to inconvenience yourself, no matter how urgent the cause.”

Griffin lifted a lazy shoulder. “Guilty as charged. I find it difficult to imagine exerting myself for any reason other than naked self-interest. Of course, when my dear cousin’s well-being is at stake, I am always willing to make an exception.”

Aden scoffed. “I’m sure. What the hell are you doing here, anyway?”

“One might ask the same of you,” Dominic said darkly as he sat down behind his desk. “I sent for Griffin as soon as I received your note.”

“You see, dear boy,” Griffin said, “I’ve recently come into receipt of some very interesting information. Dominic thought it best if I told you myself.”

“I was about to send an express to you in St. Clement when your note reached me,” Dominic said. “I only hope it’s not too late to put effective safeguards in place.”

A stab of alarm shafted through Aden’s chest. “Are we speaking of information about Vivien?”

Dominic ignored his question, casting a critical eye over him. “You look the very devil, Aden. When was the last time you slept? And when
did
you arrive in London, anyway?”

Aden resisted the impulse to curse. “Just a few hours ago. I travelled straight from St. Clement by post-chaise, although I did stop at my rooms for an hour to change.” His impatience got the better of him. “Which I told you in the note I sent round.”

“Yes, your note, which failed to explain the reasons for your return.” Dominic waved an irritated hand at Aden’s incipient protest. “You can tell me all about it, but first get yourself a cup of coffee and sit down.”

Aden stalked over to the silver coffee service and poured a cup. Fortunately, Dominic liked his coffee brewed strong as hell. Aden had a feeling he’d need several cups to get through this meeting.

“Does your information involve Khovansky?” he asked Griffin as he took a seat.

His cousin nodded. “One of my attempts to encourage honesty in some of my more reluctant sources has finally borne fruit. It would appear that the men responsible for Lady Vivien’s abduction were members of the Campworth gang.”

Despite the heat from the steaming cup of coffee he cradled in his hands, a chill coursed through Aden’s veins. “Borden Campworth?”

“None other,” Griffin responded in a hard voice. “I think you’ll agree this is not a good development.”

One of the most notorious crime lords in England, Campworth ran an extensive network of smugglers, extortionists, and thieves. He also had several MP’s and at least two members of the current government in his pocket, rendering him difficult to bring to heel. Dominic had been trying to bring the bastard down for years, with very limited success.

“Apparently, this source was able to confirm that Khovansky hired Campworth’s men for both the initial abduction as well as the second attempt you managed to thwart,” Dominic interjected.

Griffin nodded. “My source was also persuaded to reveal that another abduction is planned that will involve Khovansky himself.”

Aden eased back in his chair, feeling a slight degree of relief. “They can try again, but they’ll never find Vivien now. No one has ever uncovered St. Clement.”

Griffin and Dominic exchanged a troubled glance, and Aden’s alarm spiked again. “What?”

“Griffin’s source was adamant that Campworth had information on Lady Vivien’s location,” Dominic said.

Aden shook his head impatiently. “That’s impossible. I made certain of it.”

“
You
did,” his chief replied. “Unfortunately, Lady Vivien didn’t. Apparently, she wrote to her younger brother once she arrived in St. Clement.”

Aden rubbed his eyes, feeling sick. “Bloody hell.”

“Indeed,” Dominic said in a voice of doom.

“How did you find out?” Aden asked.

“Griffin sent me word last night that Campworth was involved. Unfortunately, I was out quite late and did not receive the news until I returned home after one
A.M.
I immediately checked with the man I had stationed at Blake House, who insisted all was quiet. That, however, failed to satisfy, so I tracked down young Kit Shaw at Brook’s. He informed me, with some reluctance I might add, that Vivien had sent him a short note soon after her arrival, telling him she was safe. He also swore up and down that he’d told no one, including his mother and his older brother.”

“Did he burn the letter?” Aden asked, dreading the answer.

“No.”

“Christ!” Aden jumped to his feet and began pacing. What a complete and utter fool he’d been. It had never occurred to him that Vivien could do something so foolish, but she worried about Kit like a mother hen fretting over her chicks. He should have anticipated something like this and kept a closer eye on her, especially in those first days in St. Clement.

“And Khovansky? Where is he?” he snapped.

“He
was
staying at Osterley with the Jerseys, but I received a report not an hour ago from Kenilworth, who I’d assigned to tail the prince. Khovansky presumably took to his bed two days ago with a raging head cold, attended only by his valet. Kenilworth managed to get upstairs to Khovansky’s bedroom early this morning and found that the prince was most definitely not on his sickbed. Unfortunately, Kenilworth found Khovansky’s valet to be so terrified of his master that he was singularly useless in providing any coherent information.”

Aden came to a halt in front of Griffin. “Any specifics on the time line?”

“My source said it was imminent. Given the state he was in when my men finished with him, I think it’s safe to say we got everything out of him that we could.”

Aden strangled the impulse to panic, forcing himself to think. “What happened to your source? You made sure he can’t get word back to Campworth?”

“You may reassure yourself on that score, Cousin,” Griffin said, rising to his feet. “No word will reach Campworth of any breach in his plans.” He nodded to them and headed to the door. “I’ll leave you professionals to do what you do best.”

Griffin paused with his hand on the knob, glancing back at Aden. “I will hope for Lady Vivien’s safety. She is a remarkable woman and deserves much better than to fall into the clutches of a man like Khovansky.”

“No woman ever deserves to fall into Khovansky’s clutches,” Dominic commented once Griffin was gone. “But for now, we will concentrate on protecting Lady Vivien.”

“I’m heading back north immediately,” Aden said. “Vivien is well protected, but if I can get there before Khovansky, so much the better. I can catch the bastard in the act.”

“That would be helpful, but I think our problems with the prince are a tad more complicated than that. It will require a political intervention as well, and that will take some doing.”

“There won’t be any need for political interventions when I’m through with him,” Aden growled. “Are we done? I need to be on my way.”

Dominic’s only response was to wave him toward one of the chairs in front of his desk. Aden stared at him with disbelief. “Is this really necessary?” he snapped.

His chief sighed. “I could wish you to have more faith in me. I sent Kenilworth and another man north as soon as I received the report on Khovansky. They’re more than prepared to deal with any problems until you arrive. Now, sit.”

Muttering under his breath, Aden took a seat. When Dominic spoke in that tone of voice, there was little point in resisting. But the thought of Vivien, so far away and with Khovansky likely in pursuit, set panic to clawing at his guts. Though logic told Aden she was well protected, his heart told him he’d abandoned her precisely when she needed him most.

Dominic steepled his hands in front of his chin and subjected Aden to a thorough inspection. “Why did you return? And do not insult my intelligence by stating, as you did in your ridiculous note, that you thought it necessary to move the investigation along.”

Incredulous, Aden stared at him. “We’re going to do this now? When Vivien is in danger?”

“If she’s in danger, it’s because of you. I realize the last few months have been difficult, but I didn’t anticipate that your weariness, for lack of a better word, would cause such a lapse in judgment.”

Aden flinched—only slightly, but Dominic caught it nonetheless. He allowed some of the cold ire to leave his face. “Aden, I ordered you to protect Lady Vivien until this matter was resolved. Not run off half-cocked when you came face-to-face with your emotions.”

Aden bristled. “My emotions have nothing to do with it. I simply felt that—”

Dominic raised an imperious hand, cutting him off. “I’m sure you’d like me to believe that, but we both know it’s not true. You find your emotions inconvenient, but they are not something you can ignore any longer.”

“Christ, I’d like to,” he muttered.

Dominic’s spare features softened in sympathy. “My friend, despite what you think, denying your feelings only clouds your judgment to a greater extent.”

“Like John’s feelings clouded his judgment in France?” Aden flashed.

“John was outwitted by another agent, and a very good one. It happens. You, however, were not outwitted, nor did your affection for John fog your brain. You discussed the situation with him and gave him fair warning. The mistake was his, not yours.”

Aden brooded over the memory of his friend, sprawled in his bed, naked and bloody. An equally ugly memory followed, that of a beautiful and false woman, John’s killer, dead by Aden’s hand. She was a good agent, yes, but not good enough to escape his brand of justice.

“It’s the game,” Dominic said softly. “Ugly, tragic things happen. Let it go.”

“I’m sick of the game,” Aden responded without thinking. He paused, stunned by the simplicity and truth of the words.

“As are we all. Now tell me why you left Lady Vivien.”

Aden fell into obstinate silence, but Dominic simply raised an arrogant eyebrow and waited him out.

“All right,” Aden finally grumbled, “I fell in love with her. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Much to his surprise, Dominic grinned. “Yes, it is. And I take it she loves you.”

“I believe she does,” he said cautiously.

“Why, then, did you leave her?”

Aden gaped at him. “Christ, Dominic! You know what I am, what I’m capable of. You know my background, too. Vivien deserves better than me.”

“What she deserves is a good man to love her. A man who is also strong enough to protect her from the wolves at her door.”

Aden let out a harsh laugh. “Yes, but I’m hardly that man.”

“Lady Vivien apparently does not agree. Nor, might I add, does your mother—a lady of great perception, as you know. I will add that I agree with your mother’s assessment.”

Dominic got up and rounded his desk, perching on the edge of its polished mahogany surface. Aden stared up at him, feeling both wary and exposed.

“Aden,” Dominic started in a kind voice. “From a young age you have tried to bury your emotions. That was understandable given the way Lord Thornbury treated both you and your mother, never allowing either of you to forget her lapse in judgment. At that stage in your life, emotions were not your friend. You brought that attitude with you into the Service, and your ability to repress your feelings carried you through many a difficult situation. But in this case, denying them has led you astray.”

Aden stared at his chief. “How so?”