Nicole Jordan - Desire

Barton frowned. “I realize Lord Wolverton is a close friend of yours, but he does not strike me as the sort of man who cares a fig about anything but-” He came to a stammering halt, his features coloring at his boldness.

“But his own pleasures?” Lucian finished.

“Yes, my lord. Forgive my bluntness, but can Wolverton really be entrusted with matters of such importance as espying a traitor?”

“Dare can be trusted, believe me. He doesn’t seem serious, but he moves about the ton with ease-goes everywhere, sees everyone. He could help us narrow down the field of suspects at the very least. And while he will doubtless consider it a lark, it may give him a sense of purpose he’s been lacking thus far.”

“Then I suppose it would be wise to employ his assistance,” Barton said, though sounding reluctant.

Lucian bit back a grim smile. This would not be the first time Philip had questioned his unorthodox methods, but they’d been proven right far more often than not.

He saw his visitor to the front entrance, then slowly mounted the stairs, finding it hard to dispel his suddenly bleak mood. The report that the stolen gold was now in French hands was a taunting reminder that he had failed in his duty, that men had died because of his negligence while he was off seeing to his own personal affairs, acquiring a bride…

Tearing off his cravat angrily, Lucian entered his bedchamber, then came to a halt, remembering that bride. The doors that connected their apartments were ajar, with soft lamplight coming through.

To his surprise, he found Brynn in her sitting room, still fully dressed, as if she had purposefully waited up for him.

When she looked up from her book, her eyes met his, giving him the same jolt of sexual excitement as always. Yet the emerald brilliance was more subdued than usual, her wary gaze questioning.

“I trust the news was not too bad?” she murmured.

Here was a chance to extend their intimacy, Lucian knew. Yet he hesitated, his instincts at war with his longings.

On the one hand, if Brynn understood the reasons for his dark moods and his necessary absences, she would likely be more yielding toward him. She was already softening a finite degree, Lucian could feel it. But he couldn’t totally ignore the possibility that she might be involved with her brother’s nefarious activities. If so, he would be taking a dangerous risk to say anything at all. Sharing information with the enemy could be deadly.

Are you my enemy, Brynn?

Still, he could sound her out about her knowledge without divulging any crucial details.

“Bad enough,” he answered, keeping his tone even.

He settled in the wing chair across from her, casually stretching his long legs out before him. “A shipment of stolen contraband was recently smuggled to France.”

“Contraband?” Her eyebrows rose politely as she waited for an explanation.

“This isn’t the usual trafficking in black-market goods, but gold belonging to the British government. For some months now a band of smugglers has been stealing shipments of gold bullion and clandestinely transporting it to France.”

“Why France?” Brynn frowned, looking genuinely perplexed, Lucian noted with keen interest.

“Because Boney needs gold to fund his armies. French paper currency has been virtually worthless for years.” Lucian felt his mouth twist humorlessly. “These thefts are doubly galling. Not only does it deprive our government of the gold needed to pay our troops and allies, which is vital to Britain’s war effort, but Boney uses it to finance their slaughter.”

She digested this intelligence in thoughtful silence.

“This smuggling ring is particularly vicious,” Lucian continued. “They don’t hesitate to kill to achieve their ends.” He gave Brynn a pointed glance. “You grew up in Cornwall. Surely you must be familiar with the Free Trade.”

Her lashes lowered over her striking eyes. “A little. Most families there are involved in some fashion. It is a way of life.”

“Well, we have no good leads as to the perpetrators or their leader. Perhaps your brother could advise me on how to go about searching.”

“My brother?” she asked cautiously.

“Sir Grayson seems a savvy sort. He might have knowledge that could lead us to apprehend the gold smugglers.” At her wary expression, Lucian offered a slight smile. “I’m not interested in ending the livelihood of your fellow Cornishmen, Brynn. Only in keeping the gold out of French hands. If we hope to stop the bloodshed and put an end to the war, these smugglers must be caught.”

She suddenly looked troubled, distracted even. Lucian felt a sinking weight in his heart.

“I don’t know if Gray could be of any help,” she said finally. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt to ask him.”

Lucian forced a smile. Her reply was not the one he had hoped for-that she would disavow any knowledge of her brother’s activities. Rising, he crossed to her, then bent and pressed his lips to her brow. “Sleep well, siren.”

Taken off guard, Brynn eyed him warily. It had been a tender gesture, as if there were real affection between them.

“You don’t intend to stay?” she asked.

“Are you inviting me to stay?”

Their gazes locked. A long moment passed while he studied her. Eventually, though, Brynn looked away, uncomfortable with his penetrating scrutiny.

“Well then,” Lucian said lightly, “I see I had best summon all my willpower.” When she didn’t respond, he reached out to brush her cheek with a knuckle. “Don’t worry, love. I intend to wait for an invitation. I won’t press my unwanted attentions on you.”

“You must do as you please,” she said, her voice low.

“Must I?” he asked softly.

Brynn watched him turn away, still surprised and unaccountably disappointed that he hadn’t remained.

When he was gone, she let out an unsteady breath of relief. Yet her inner turmoil wasn’t caused solely by her husband’s potent masculinity. This time Lucian had given her too much to think about-and raised a disturbing possibility.

She’d always believed Grayson was smuggling wine and brandy and silk; never had she dreamed he would become involved in something treasonous such as stealing gold and delivering it to the enemy. Brynn bit her lip. Surely she would have known if Gray were engaged in so wicked a crime. He would not be able to keep such a secret from her-and yet she hadn’t been home in weeks.

And Gray had been unusually troubled during his last visit, agitated even. Brynn suddenly recalled the questions he had put to her then… his keen interest in Lucian’s connection to the Foreign Office, particularly Lucian’s role as a spy.

And what of her husband’s enigmatic comments just now? Did he somehow suspect Grayson?

A stab of fear shot through her as she realized the possible danger to her brother. She had greatly underestimated Lucian. He wasn’t a bored nobleman playing at being a hero. After losing close friends to the war, he was personally driven to prevent further bloodshed, even at the risk of his own life. Admittedly, his revelations tonight had given her a new respect for him. Yet she had also gained a new wariness. Lucian was keenly intelligent, intuitively clever. And he was determined to find the gold smugglers. If he were to suspect Grayson-

Another frightening thought struck her. Had he suspected Gray all along? Had that been Lucian’s purpose for coming to Cornwall in the first place? Even more damning, had he courted her to get closer to her brother? Had he used her that way? Just as he was using her to sire a son?

And something else… Gray’s desperate interest in Lucian’s seal ring. Her breath caught in her throat. Sweet heaven… Was Gray truly involved in treason? And had she unwittingly aided him?

It was a horrifying thought.

Brynn shook her head, pressing her lips together in a tight line. She wouldn’t jump to conclusions just yet, condemning her brother without a fair hearing. But she would certainly have a great number of questions to put to him when she wrote to him first thing in the morning.

For an endless moment they stood locked together in a death grip, straining for control of the rapier. Then with an anguished cry, Giles twisted away and flung himself full-force at Lucian, sending them both crashing over the table to the floor.

Struggling for breath, Lucian rolled free and climbed to his feet, firmly in possession of the weapon. Yet his opponent lay still, groaning, blood seeping from a mortal wound in his chest.

Dropping the blade with a clatter, Lucian went down on his knees beside the dying man, cradling his head.

“Giles…” he whispered, agony ripping through him.

“Forgive me, Luce… It is better this way… Please…don’t tell…”

His last rasped words were lost in a violent fit of coughing as blood bubbled up from his throat.

“No…!”

The hoarse cry woke her. Brynn sat up in bed, her heart pounding. Her bedchamber was dark, filled with an uneasy silence.

When she heard another muted moan of pain coming from beyond the door to her sitting room, she hastily fumbled to light a candle and made her way cautiously to Lucian’s apartments. He lay sleeping in the huge canopied bed, tossing his head restlessly on the pillow. His body was nearly bare, the rumpled linen sheets scarcely covering his loins.

He groaned again, a tortured sound that wrenched her heart. Bending over him, Brynn laid a gentle hand on his arm and realized he was covered with cold sweat.