The Viscount's Counterfeit Wife (9 page)

“You’ve remembered
something?” She didn’t like the sound of that. Had he recalled
why he was breaking into her room? If he knew that, then perhaps his
memory wasn’t lost at all.

“I have no idea why I
just said that, but something inside is telling me it’s important
that I recover my memory as quickly as possible.”

Tally saw he was hoping
she could tell him why. She shrugged helplessly.

Was his subconscious
telling him he’d failed on his mission to hurt her and he still had
to accomplish it? She was no longer certain she wanted to help him
get his memory back.

Doubt and distrust were
in his eyes when he looked at her. If he thought she was going to
prompt him to his task, he was sadly mistaken. She stood up,
appeasing her conscience with the knowledge that she was only
following the doctor’s orders. Besides! He was the criminal who
scared the wits out of her by climbing through her window! Why should
she be feeling bad about him?

He was clearly mulling
something over. She was suddenly eager to leave, not anxious to hear
what he was thinking. She’d waited too long, though. He seemed
unable to hold back the question he was burning to ask her.

“How long have we
been married?”

She stiffened. She’d
been dreading questions about their married status. They were
inevitable, she knew, but hoped that, knowing the doctor’s orders
wouldn’t allow her to respond, he’d refrain from asking.

“You know I can’t
answer that.” She busied herself by picking up his tray and placing
it on the chest of drawers near the door.

When she turned around
he was standing by the bed, holding on to the headboard. He looked
unsteady, though pleased with himself for making it to his feet on
his own.

“Oh but, you
mustn’t.” She hurried to help him, worried he was going to fall
over and hit his head again.

“I can’t stand
being in bed a minute longer,” he complained.

“In that case, you
can sit over here.” She shifted to support him with her shoulder
and help him to move sideways. He allowed her to help him into the
armchair near the bed, but just when she was about to move away, he
captured her hand and drew her over and down to sit sideways on his
lap.

Oh
my lord! What was he doing?

More to the point, what
was she going to do?

But it seemed that her
sham husband knew exactly what to do, taking the matter entirely out
of her control. He captured her hands in his and lifted them to his
mouth, to kiss the tip of each digit before sliding one of them into
his mouth to swirl his tongue around it.

A delicious quiver of
delight scurried up her spine.

His eyes never left
hers while he skimmed his long, graceful fingers up her arm.

Another wild shiver
shook her, though she kept her eyes glued downward. Self-conscious
was a tame word to describe the extent of her discomfort. She felt
like a child plunked onto a strange uncle’s lap.

He drew her closer. One
of those elegant hands slid up under her hair to curl around the nape
of her neck and his mouth moved slowly to meet her lips with a touch
as soft as a baby’s first kiss.

“We mustn’t,” she
protested weakly.

“Why not?” He
grinned crookedly. “We’re married.”

Heavens! What had she
gotten herself into? “But… you’ve been … you have no memory
of that, of me.”

“So… we’ll make
new memories.” He tried to lure her closer with his charm.

The temptation to give
in to his blandishments was almost irresistible.

She’d been starved of
attention since her Aunt died and was enticed by what he offered. She
craved someone’s touch and affection. And given her choice of
career — this might be her only chance to experience how a man and
woman were together. She wanted to know what the mystery was all
about. Wanted to feel what a woman felt with a man.

“What kind of
memories?” she was shocked to hear herself ask.

The heat in his look
made her tremble, partly in alarm and partly in anticipation.

“Like these.” He
gently tugged her nearer and placed another light kiss on her lips.

The fear and excitement
pounding through her almost deafened her to everything around her.
She was shaking from her chignon to the tip of her toes.

He must have sensed her
anxiety because he simply tucked her against his side and ran a
calming hand up and down her back to comfort her. His other hand
ruffled her hair gently and he murmured tender words in her ear.

She breathed in his
delicious scent. He always smelled so good. There was no fancy
cologne, just his personal musk, but it sent tingles sparkling
through her. His arm around her felt good, her head against his
chest, divine.

If only she could enjoy
it!

She didn’t know what
he was going to do or how she should respond. Her whole body felt
like it was on fire with anticipation.
Breathe
in
, she told herself.
Breathe
out.
But calm composure continued to elude. It took a few
moments to realize that the rapid thumping against her ear was his
heart.

He was agitated, just
like she was!

Reed was having trouble
believing he’d managed to lure his resistant wife this far.
Finally!

She was like a scared
rabbit twitching away from loud sounds. So he soothed her with his
hands, like he would a frightened child.

Child? How did he know
that? Did he have children? Surely not! They’d have come into his
room to see him. He’d have heard them running about in the house.
Although, it was possible it or they might have been left in the
country. His hand kept a steady, smooth stroke over her thick curls.

There was so much he
didn’t know about her… Hell, about himself. About his life. About
everything!

Caught up, once again,
in his turbulent thoughts, he didn’t push for more. His head was
suddenly aching and he didn’t have the energy to do more than
continue to pet her like a kitten. He hoped she didn’t hold this
against him. When he was back to himself again, he knew he’d be
able to make her purr.

Tally wasn’t aware of
closing her eyes. A soft sigh of pleasure slipped out. She had no
idea where this was going, but she wasn’t ready to stop it quite
yet.

He leaned down and his
lips met hers in another featherlike kiss. He nibbled his way
teasingly across her face to tug on her earlobe with his teeth.

A bone-shaking tremor
shuddered through her entire body. She’d not known such attentions
could make your toes curl. She leaned closer, seeking his touch, but
it remained illusive for the places that ached most to be stroked.

His lips grazed along
her neck and paused to lap gently behind her ears. His hands drifted
from her head down to coast along her arms. One, at her back, held
her against him, while the other circled her breast.

She gulped in air
noisily, and the trembling now took over her entire body.

“I’m guessing we’re
newly married,” he said, “and I must not have been around much or
at all?” His questioning tone was dry and more than a little
skeptical.

But she was too caught
up in the new sensations controlling her body, to hear him properly.
It was only when he pushed her back and held her at arm’s length
that he got her attention.

What was that he’d
said? Something about newlyweds...?

Oh my goodness, she
must have given herself away with her total ignorance of such things.
A married woman would, no doubt, have reacted very differently.

She wanted to run away
and hide, but that would give the charade away completely. She had to
stay calm and bluff her way through. He had no idea who she was or
that they weren’t married.

Heavens, he didn’t
even have any idea of who he was!

“You did, in fact,
leave immediately after the ceremony,” she found herself foolishly
admitting, drawn into lying to him. She should simply have remained
mute, like the doctor advised. But he wasn’t the one who was here
facing Reed and his persistent questions! “...on important business
that you didn’t see fit to explain to me.” She was overwhelmed by
guilt to be misleading him so. But what else was she to do?

“Ah...” he sounded
relieved. “So that is the source of the tension I sense between
us.” He turned a warm, cajoling smile on her. “Now that I’m
back, I’ll have to rectify the error of my ways. I will be
positively lavish with my attentions to make up for my boorish
behavior.” He slid his hand up her leg and left it there, obviously
hoping she’d invite him to go higher.

Shocked, she twitched
her leg away like a startled fawn.

He blew a frustrated
breath out. “Maybe now is not the best time...” Hugging her close
for a moment more, he pressed an almost reverent kiss on her
forehead, before releasing her. “I think I’m ready for bed
again.”

Keen disappointment
caught her unawares. Reluctantly, she slid off his lap and helped him
to stand and move to the bed. Once under the covers, he leaned back
against the pillows and closed his eyes, looking drawn.

“I’ve tired you
out.” Not knowing what else to say and feeling cheated somehow, she
smoothed his covers and tucked them in around his shoulders.

His hand shot out and
he grabbed her hand and said urgently, “You will come back today?”

The fiery blush that
shot to her face probably revealed she’d had no intention of
returning that day, but confronted with an outright demand, she felt
unable to refuse. “Yes, I’ll come back to share the evening meal
with you.”
...and pray your
memory hasn’t had time to recover yet
, she added
silently to herself.

In his best footman’s
manner, Max Blythe offered a formal, “Good morning. I have an
important message for Viscount Selwich.”

“What of it?” the
aged retainer asked Max gruffly.

Nonplussed by the
butler’s could-care-less attitude, Max reiterated, “It is
important that I deliver this message personally into the hands of
the Viscount.”

Not much of a butler,
he thought. The elderly servant was stooped and bent, and rumpled, as
if he’d just been disturbed from a nap. He’d have thought Reed
would be more discriminating about his servants.

“If you were thinking
you’ll find him here, ye’re wrong. Ain’t no Viscount here.”
The butler’s tone was decidedly belligerent.

“But this is his
home.”

“Don’t know nothing
about that.” The servant gave a careless shrug of his shoulders.
“The mistress… and her husband… have rented this here house for
the Season. Don’t rightly know who the owner is.”

“I see,” Max said,
though he didn’t really. Reed had told them his home had been
bought by proxy, under a fictitious name, to avoid his father’s
eagle-eyed pursuit of information about his eldest son and heir. But
Max didn’t know that name or what the new servants called their
master.

Something seemed off
about this whole affair. It might be safer not to ask for “Gordon,”
in case all was not as it should be here.

He paused. What should
he do next? The old tartar talked mostly of his mistress and
mentioned the master as more of an afterthought. “And the name of
your master is?”

“It ain’t Viscount
what’s-his-name, so I don’t see how that can be any concern of
yours.”

The wizened creature
was becoming more bellicose with each question, so Max decided to
beat a retreat. “Thank you for your help,” he responded
derisively.

Not even his footman’s
disguise had extracted information here. Disgusted at his lack of
success in making that tetchy servant talk, he gave up and walked off
in the direction of the park. What kind of ploy was Gordon operating?

They’d known, even
before the three of them left Egypt — each carrying their part of
crucial evidence against Traubridge — that someone on the inside,
probably working in the Chief’s office, must be providing The
Vanisher with information. The bastard had managed to avoid their
nets too often to be coincidence. As a result, they’d agreed there
would be no communication among the three of them or even with the
boss, until they were all safely back in London. Only then were they
to make arrangements to deliver all the documents that would convict
that monster.

They’d assumed no one
knew about Reed’s role in their investigation. He’d worked in
disguise and in an informal capacity. They had even avoided being
seen together while in Egypt. That was why he was the one who carried
the most incriminating documents.

But he was late getting
back. When they’d finally received word that he’d just set foot
on British soil--in Cornwall, of all places--they’d been relieved.
Now, though, he’d failed to contact them as planned. Yet he was
living in his own house. They’d seen him in the window. But...
Hell! The other occupants didn’t appear to know who he was. He
kicked at a pebble on the street. And where was the master … the
one married to the butler’s mistress? The one who, according to
that cantankerous old man, was renting the house?

Jace had leased the
house across the street and down one door. With their telescope,
they’d only seen three inhabitants — the stooped butler, the
beautiful young woman and, just yesterday for the first time, Reed.
With a bandaged head!

What had happened to
him? He could stand and didn’t appear to be mortally wounded. Was
he being kept prisoner in his own home? The female seemed to be the
one doing most of the caring for him.

His mistress?
Or
his warden?
Max increased his pace. Jace was not going to
like this!

Max hadn’t heard the
door close, so when he reached the corner onto the next street, he
cast a look back over his shoulder and almost guffawed aloud. The
tetchy old fellow was out on the porch, arms akimbo, glaring at Max
in a threatening manner. What did he think he was going to do? Engage
in fisticuffs? Beat Max to a pulp so he wouldn’t return! Chuckling
to himself, he turned the corner, then right again into the little
lane that backed the townhouse.