Nicole Jordan - Desire

“Lucian doesn’t know I’m here. He has gone to Dover, searching for the gold.”

“Well, I sincerely hope he keeps away.” Grayson took a final swallow of his wine. “If he tries to intervene, he will likely be killed.”

Brynn felt her heart clench. “What do you mean?” she demanded hoarsely. “You wouldn’t kill him…”

“Of course I wouldn’t. Not I. Jack. Caliban’s followers. They consider Wycliff their chief nemesis. If he shows his face, I have no doubt what will happen.”

She must have looked stricken, for Grayson gazed at her with sudden sadness.

“You love him, don’t you.” It wasn’t a question.

Brynn sat in frozen silence, wanting desperately to refute the accusation. Yet she could no longer deny the truth. She didn’t want Lucian to die, not only because he was her husband and the father of her unborn child, but because she loved him.

Dear heaven…

“Did you forget about the curse?” Gray asked quietly.

“No,” Brynn whispered. “I didn’t forget.” She had tried desperately to isolate her heart from Lucian, had refused to acknowledge her feelings in hopes of protecting him. To no avail.

Cold fear knifed through her. Her love had the power to destroy. By admitting her feelings for Lucian, had she given him a death sentence?

Just then a maid came to the study door and bobbed a curtsy. “Milady, his lordship has arrived.”

“His lordship?”

“Your husband. Lord Wycliff.”

Gray rose abruptly to his feet, looking stunned, while Brynn’s heart froze in her chest. Lucian was here? What in God’s name was he doing in Cornwall when he’d set out for Dover only a few days ago? How had he known where she’d gone? How had he followed her so quickly?

For a long moment, brother and sister stared at each other in shock.

“Show him to the drawing room,” Grayson finally commanded the maid. “We will join him there.” When the girl was gone, his voice dropped to an urgent whisper. “Do you think he suspects me?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“Brynn, you cannot divulge a word about the gold to him. I beg you, keep silent.”

“Gray-”

“You will have to find a way to keep Wycliff occupied tonight. A few hours at least-long enough for Jack to fetch the gold. They intend to wait for full darkness, but they can’t delay too long or the tide will be too low for them to make a retreat.”

“Grayson, I can’t-”

“You can. You must. Unless you want your husband to die. I tell you, Jack won’t hesitate to kill him, Brynn. Or me, either.”

Setting down his glass, Gray turned on his heel and strode from the room.

After a long pause, Brynn followed more slowly, feeling as if she were being swept helplessly, inexorably along by a rushing current, toward a destiny of murderous peril.

Brynn paused at the door to the drawing room, drinking in the sight of her husband’s beloved face. He was busy accepting her brother’s greeting, but as soon as Lucian spied her, his blue gaze locked with hers across the room.

Brynn’s heart suddenly began to pound as they stared at each other. Lucian’s expression remained enigmatic, yet she wondered if he could see completely through her. If he could possibly know what she was contemplating.

Desperation filled her, but she forced herself to hide her dismay and trepidation and ignore her painfully thudding heartbeat. Schooling her own features to surprise, she moved forward, offering her hands and then her cheek for him to kiss. “Lucian, whatever are you doing here? I thought you intended to travel to Dover.”

“I did intend to, love,” he replied coolly. “But as I changed horses at a posting house, a messenger caught up with me, bearing the news that your brother was ill and that you had gone to his bedside. The timing of the emergency struck me as rather ominous. I have a number of enemies, Brynn, and I worried that they might be plotting to harm you. So I turned around immediately and made for Harrow. My suspicion rose even more when I found Theo quite well and no sign of my beautiful wife. I could only hope you had come here.”

“I’m terribly sorry to have worried you unnecessarily, but”-she faltered, nearly choking on the lie-“my plans must have been misunderstood. When I said my brother was ill, I meant Grayson.”

Lucian glanced at his brother-in-law, who, except for a wine-flushed complexion, appeared the picture of good health.

“I summoned Brynn here,” Grayson interjected quickly, supporting her tale. “I feared I was on my deathbed, but it seems I was only suffering a bilious stomach. The new cook I hired after Brynn wed you served a fish that violently disagreed with me. But I am quite recovered now.”

“How fortunate,” Lucian replied with a brief smile.

“You must be tired and hungry after your long journey,” Grayson added in a stronger voice. “Despite that one instance, Cook can be trusted to produce an excellent dinner.”

“I have only just arrived myself,” Brynn interjected, “and I admit I am famished, now that I’m assured Gray is well.”

“We keep country hours here,” her brother informed Lucian smoothly now, “usually dining at half past six. But I will have dinner pushed back so you can refresh yourselves. I’ll see to it as soon as I have a servant gather your baggage and show you to your rooms.”

Preferring not to share the same quarters with Lucian, however, Brynn overrode her brother’s orders and claimed her childhood bedchamber for herself, while giving Lucian a guest room farther down the hall. She didn’t believe she could endure such enforced intimacy, at least until she gained better command of her unstable emotions. Surprisingly Lucian didn’t protest the arrangements, but merely said he would collect her for dinner in an hour.

Brynn was grateful for the chance to compose herself as she washed and changed her gown. By the time Lucian rapped on her door to escort her downstairs, she had managed to get her nerves under tenuous control.

Her composure faltered again, however, when he greeted her with cool reserve; the current strain between them reminded Brynn of the early weeks of their stormy marriage.

“I apologize again for the misunderstanding,” she said as they descended the stairs, wishing she could placate him.

A muscle in Lucian’s jaw tightened, but he remained silent.

“Are you angry that I came home?”

“I would have preferred to know your intentions. You might have saved me a good deal of worry. As it was, I could only hope that nothing untoward had befallen you-not to mention that I was compelled to abandon my mission.”

“I am sorry, Lucian, truly.”

“Are you, love?” He didn’t sound convinced.

Brynn eyed him warily, but Lucian merely ushered her into the drawing room where her brother awaited them.

Dinner was more congenial than she expected, with Gray putting himself out to play the charming host. And the dishes were more tempting than Brynn had tasted at the Caldwell table since her childhood: hare soup, hot raised game pie, poached turbot in lobster sauce, boiled cauliflower, fillet of pheasant and truffles with a remove of plum pudding, and for the sweets, custard and hothouse strawberries.

She was too agitated, however, to enjoy the delicious fare. With the knots roiling in her stomach, she might as well have been dining on sawdust.

Her tension rose to a dangerous level at the conclusion of the meal. When Brynn would have repaired to the drawing room, leaving the gentlemen alone to their port, Gray spoke up.

“I fear I must leave you. I have an engagement later this evening that I cannot avoid.”

Brynn gave a start, then forcibly pressed her lips together to avoid demanding what her brother was up to.

Lucian replied for her. “Don’t concern yourself, Sir Grayson. I for one will be glad for the privacy with my wife. I have missed her after so long a separation. These past three days have seemed an eternity.” His sapphire eyes met Brynn’s, sending a jolt of shivering awareness down her spine, along with unmistakable alarm.

“Well then, if you don’t mind…” Gray rose from the table. “I will repair to my rooms to change. Brynn, if you can spare me a moment, I require your advice on a matter of the heart.” When she gave him a puzzled frown, his skin flushed as if in embarrassment. “During your absence I have been courting Miss Uxbridge, and I expect to encounter her tonight.”

Miss Uxbridge was one of the local squire’s pretty daughters. Brynn suspected her brother was telling yet another lie, but she politely excused herself from Lucian and followed Gray down the hall and into the dimly lit library.

“Here,” he whispered, fishing in his jacket pocket and handing her a vial of cloudy liquid. “Use this to keep Wycliff occupied tonight.”

“What is it?”

“Sleeping drops. Like laudanum, only stronger. You will have to slip it into his wine.”

She stared at the vial as if it were poison. “You are asking me to drug my own husband? Grayson, I couldn’t possibly-”

“You must, Brynn, if you want him to live. If you want Theo to live. If you care anything at all for them… for me… you will do as I ask.”

Her fingers closed reflexively around the vial. As Gray walked away, she remained frozen in place. Finally she squeezed her eyes shut.

How had she come to this? Torn between the terrible choice of protecting her brothers and betraying her husband, the man who owned her heart.

Lucian stared down at his wineglass as he waited for his beautiful wife to return, wondering if his worst fear would be realized. Was Brynn in league with her brother? Was she a thief and a traitor? He had little doubt she’d permitted his seal ring to be used by Sir Grayson, thus abetting Caliban and his cohorts in illicitly making off with the gold shipment. Was she also aiding her brother in smuggling the stolen gold to France?