The Wicked Truth. Lyn Stone
Читать онлайн книгу.
where she was concerned. She’d hate him before they ever got this ruse under way. Maybe she did already. Judging by her expression, she was certainly off to a running start.
“Let us understand one thing, Lord Havington,” she said with a sharp lift of her chin. “I wish to stay out of gaol for obvious reasons, but if it comes to a choice between a cell there and forced intimacy with you, I’ll take my chances in prison.”
Neil resented the heated rejection. She was supposed to thank him for this, damn her fractious hide. And from all reports, he was the only one she had rejected! “They still hang women, you know,” he warned, hating himself more with every word, but unable for some reason to stop baiting her.
She rewarded him with a scornful frown. “Society has already hanged me, my lord. All that’s left is for me to stop kicking. Before I do that, I plan to find out who killed my best friend. I’ve no time to spend on my back with my legs in the air while I’m about it. The valet idea is a stroke of genius and I applaud it, but I will not be your whore.” Elizabeth took a deep breath. “And if you try to force me, I’ll confess to murder and name you my partner in crime. Then we’ll see how you like dangling from a noose!”
With that, she snatched her valise out of his hand, turned on her heel and marched out into the late afternoon.
Neil couldn’t reconcile the jolt of admiration he felt with his former opinion of her. He desired her, pitied her when she wept and hated her when he thought. of all her liaisons. Now he admired her? He shook his head, hoping the marbles would roll back into place.
She’d really set him back on his heels with that, little speech of hers. Well, the battle lines were drawn now. He’d see just how long her lusty little nature would hold out when confined to his company exclusively.
He might not be the most desirable man around, but, by God, he’d be the only one available to her. And he’d make her beg.
They arrived in London very late. The inspector’s endless questions and the bouncing of the carriage prevented any semblance of rest.
Elizabeth spent the remainder of the night with Inspector MacLinden at the doctor’s bachelor rooms while the new earl roused Terry’s servants and packed them off to his country house.
The divan proved wretchedly uncomfortable, but Elizabeth flatly refused to take the doctor’s bed. She felt horribly out of sorts when MacLinden awakened her before dawn to take her to the Havington town house. Exhaustion and fear of discovery made her weak at the knees as they left the safety of Neil’s rented rooms. However, luck held, and she and the inspector encountered no one about at the ungodly hour.
When MacLinden abandoned her to Neil Bronwyn’s care, the wretch of a doctor had another unwelcome surprise to impart. The rakehell proposed they share a bedroom! Not bloody likely.
“You cannot insist on such a thing! The adjoining chamber will do just as well, and we’ll both be much more comfortable.” She watched him deposit her suitcase on a shelf in the back of the huge cherry wardrobe and busy himself stacking Terry’s hatboxes in front of it. His words sounded muffled. “I promised Lindy you’d remain within my sight at all times. You’ll sleep here, in the master chamber with me, and that’s the end of it.”
“But, my lord, you can’t expect that! It’s not—”
“Proper? Don’t be ridiculous. And call me Neil, at least in private. The title only reminds me of how I came by it. Even you can’t be so cruel as to throw it up every time you address me. It was bad enough having to take over Terry’s bed.”
“Well, you are the earl, whether you like it or not, and believe me, I can think of worse things to call you.” She made a rude noise with her lips. “And this is highly improper, Neil,” she said, emphasizing his name with a sneer. “Surely you could grant me privacy to sleep.”
“And have you sneaking out in the night to God knows what mischief? Your little escapades will have to cease, at least for the duration of the investigation. I won’t have you arranging assignations, however secret. There’s still that Thurston fellow you mentioned, who might very well be a prime suspect. I doubt you’re so eager to get rid of him now that Terry’s…gone.”
Elizabeth thought seriously about kicking the derriere he presented as he bent to open the bottom drawer of the bureau. “Thurston is my butler. He’s old as Hadrian’s Wall and in terrible health. I thought you were at my home to see to him the night we met,” she said.
Abruptly Neil straightened, and faced her. She noticed a fleeting expression of what appeared to be surprised relief before he covered it with a scowl.
“Be that as it may, Elizabeth, you’ll have to sleep in here. You’ve little need to preach propriety after all you’ve done. Even were we living openly together, copulating on the front lawn, no one could think worse of you than they do now.”
“You’re cruel,” she said softly, and turned away so he wouldn’t see her tears. “Mean,” she added for emphasis.
Suddenly he reached for her arm and took it, a gentle gesture that she shrugged off as he spoke. “I apologize, Elizabeth. That was uncalled for and I have no earthly idea what made me say it.”
“I don’t care,” she said, lifting her chin and rounding on him. “I’ve had enough of this! I’m sick of trying to explain. That’s what you want, isn’t it? Explanations for my lewd behavior, my shoddy little peccadilloes? Well, my fine lord, you’ll get no vulgar details and no plea for understanding, do you hear? You’ll get nothing from me. And if you continue to bait me so, I’ll surrender and take my chances with the courts!”
He looked abashed. “Fool! That’s suicide at this point and you know it.”
“Yes, I’ve considered that,” she said. “Seriously.”
“Suicide?” he whispered, obviously appalled. Then he grabbed her, his arms locking around her like a vise. His lips felt hard against her ear. “Nothing’s so bad as that, Elizabeth. Believe me, nothing! Promise me you’ll never think it again,” he demanded. “Promise me!”
Elizabeth let herself lean against him, hungry for a touch of human concern, however fleeting, no matter what stirred it. She burrowed her face into his linen shirtfront, ignoring the hard bump of a shirt stud against her cheek. Warmth enveloped her, comforting and yet disturbing, smelling subtly of exotic spice and the light starch of fresh linen. Strong hands on her back grasped urgently as though he searched for the source of her despair so he could tear it away.
Elizabeth fought the urge to slide her arms around him and promise him anything he wanted to hear. No! Trusting was what had gotten her into this mess. He might be a doctor and basically kind, but he was still a man for all that.
“Elizabeth…” The word emerged a soft entreaty, a longing sound caught somewhere between regret and desire.
Frantically, she pushed away, terrified that he meant to prey on her momentary weakness. “I didn’t mean that I wanted to die, you dolt. I merely meant I thought of the repercussions of surrender. Don’t pretend solicitude. False sympathy disgusts me. Don’t touch me again.”
With one hand reaching out in a conciliatory gesture, he watched her with a concentration that was unnerving. After several moments he shrugged his massive shoulders, dropped his hand to his side and looked away. “All right.”
Tension grew in the silence that followed. Nothing broke it but the ceaseless rain pattering against the window. Finally, Neil moved, and she sighed, realizing she’d been holding her breath.
His eyes avoided hers and he began with a forced lightness, “Well then, we’d best see to your disguise. Terry’s things should be a near fit since he is—was…” Neil swallowed hard. The false cheerfulness had disintegrated and he finished through clenched teeth. “He was small. Only a bit taller than you.” The heavy silence returned, uncomfortable and laden with grief.
Elizabeth