Desire Me More (3 page)

“And I will not be hounded in my own house. You forget that I make the rules in this venture of ours.” Nick glanced in the direction of Shauley, who had yet to say a word. “I will contact you whenever I damn well please.”

Shauley spoke then. “You can play this any way you like, Riley, but by all appearances you haven't come through on your word yet. You have delayed this sale by a month.”

“You dare to come into my house and insult me on my word?” Nick sat on the edge of his desk, glaring at Shauley. No one told Nick what he should do, how he should act, or what exactly he was thinking, especially Shauley.

Huxley strolled into the study, and Nick was glad that Amelia was not behind him, though he would have to advise that she stay away from Shauley going forward.

“Good day, Lord Murray,” Huxley said, not bothering to greet Shauley.

The tension that had built in the room dispelled with Huxley's arrival.

“It is clear we are of opposing minds,” Nick said, “but our meeting has concluded. Miss Grant will advise you tomorrow where and when we will dine to go over any final particulars, Lord Murray. Huxley will show you to the door.”

Nick didn't wait for Lord Murray's response as he walked around to the front of the desk and pulled out his chair. Huxley looked on with nothing short of amusement.

“I'll not forget this slight, Riley,” Lord Murray said.

“If you want our arrangement to remain mutually beneficial you will guard your temper and leash your pet.” Nick looked at Shauley with indifference, though that was the last thing he felt. “I don't need to tell you that my patience is thin when dealing with pompous lords like you. Even thinner for the scum you scraped off the street and dressed up as your man of affairs.”

Lord Murray looked as if he was about to have a fit of apoplexy. Instead of another outburst, he turned on his heel and strode out of the study, anger radiating from him like a hive full of disturbed wasps.

Huxley followed Lord Murray out. Shauley, however, placed his hat atop his head and strode toward Nick's desk as though he had all the time in the world before he departed.

“Did I not make myself clear, Shauley?”

“You have certainly turned into a cold bastard over the years.”

“If you think that our growing up across a shared laneway gives you any familiarity with me, let me advise you that you are mistaken.”

“Now, Nick. You do wound my sensibilities.”

Nick snorted, though he wasn't the least bit amused. “Do you have some asinine notion that we will renew our friendship because of my dealings with Lord Murray?”

“It would do you well to remember that I can be the worm in his lordship's ear and persuade him of another course of action.”

“Then why let the manor go at all? I know how deeply attached you are to that pile of rubble.
Sentimentality
for your old way of life and all.” The depravities of the man standing before him were extreme, and they reminded Nick of a time in his life that he wanted nothing more than to scrub from his brain.

Shauley pinched his lips together, though he didn't take the bait and storm out, as Nick had hoped. “It's no more
sentimentality
for me than it is for you.”

It was a place they'd both lost whatever innocence they had as children. While Nick had risen from the ashes of his past, Shauley had smoldered and been molded into a man equally as vile as the vicar who had destroyed their childhood.

“It is mere coincidence that Highgate came up to be purchased at all,” Nick explained, though Shauley deserved no reason for Nick's decisions. “I require a manor that has acreage close to the city. Highgate provides that.”

Shauley grinned as though he had Nick's purpose figured out. What Shauley didn't realize, however, was Nick's plan to expose the vicar, who still resided in Highgate, as a way to wipe the slate clean from a past that still haunted Nick.

When Shauley didn't seem inclined to leave, Nick pushed out from his desk and stood, ready to throw the man out, if need be. Shauley took the hint but not before parting with, “Did the good old vicar break you after all? I thought you above the old man's machinations.”

“Odd how the same cannot be said of you. Broken is the defining character for what you've become.” The degeneracies of that vicar had seeped into Shauley long ago.

Shauley laughed shortly before he turned and left Nick's study. Huxley returned a short time later.

“I'd like to say I'm surprised to see them both here, but Shauley has been decidedly quiet since the negotiations were under way for Highgate,” Nick mused aloud. Huxley crossed his arms over his chest and waited for Nick to elaborate. “If he comes around the house again, I want to be the first to know.”

“Easily done,” Huxley said. “Is he a danger to anyone?”

Nick immediately thought of Devlin and Amelia. “Yes. There's no telling who he will try to hurt if he wants to get to me.”

“So we bury one problem with Lord Berwick's death, only to have another surface?”

“I'm not convinced the two are singular incidences.” Nick pressed his thumbs into his temples. What was he missing that connected the two meetings this morning? “The inspector followed by Shauley's appearance cannot be coincidental, yet why should they be connected at all?”

Nick had never had dealings with Lord Berwick. Did Lord Berwick know Lord Murray? Had Lord Berwick known Shauley? Nick knew that Shauley was Lord Murray's secretary, but Shauley made a point of being scarce for any meetings or dealings directly with Nick. So after two months of avoiding a meeting with Nick, why come around today of all days?

“Where is Amelia?” He hadn't meant to be dismissive when he'd come into the study to find Shauley glaring at her like she was a rabbit set for the dinner plate.

“Said she would break her fast since she wasn't required in the study.”

So he'd angered her.
Damn it, this day couldn't possibly get worse.

A
melia heard the front door of the house open at nine. She smoothed her fingers over the satin bookmark dividing the pages of the book. She hadn't read more than three words before setting it on the table next to her. She'd waited in the library for Nick's return for nearly two hours now. She headed toward the adjoining study just as a lamp burned to life, chasing away the darkness of the room.

Nick had been gone for the better part of the day. Surprisingly, Huxley hadn't been his usual three feet away from her when Nick wasn't around. Had something happened during the meeting with Murray to take them away from the house? If that were the case, why hadn't Nick told her where he was going?

Had there been a development with her brother? With Huxley's absence, she wondered if Jeremy had gone home.

It wasn't lost on her that she'd had all day to think through her questions, but now that the opportunity presented itself . . . she didn't know how to ask any of the thoughts that had plagued her throughout day.

Nick was sitting in his chair with his head tilted back and one arm thrown over his eyes.

She broke the silence that had descended upon the room. “Good evening. I wasn't entirely sure we'd see each other tonight.”

He removed his hand and looked right at her. The breath froze in her lungs. Just one look from him had the ability to render her speechless.

She looked toward the library, needing to break eye contact with him so she could at least think straight. “I was reading when I heard you come in. I didn't mean to interrupt your solitude.”

“Amelia.” Her name came out like a question, bidding her to meet his gaze again. Folding her hands in front of her so she wouldn't fidget, she raised her head to look at him. Nick pushed the chair out from his desk and patted one leg. “Will you sit with me for a while?”

Glancing at the door that led to the main corridor of the house, she noted it was slightly ajar. She shook her head. It was one thing for the household to know what they were up to, another thing entirely for the staff to witness their transgressions.

Nick must have noticed where her focus lay. “Close it.” He patted his thigh again.

She swallowed and was too tempted not to do his bidding. She locked the door before returning to his side and sat carefully on one of his thighs.

He searched her eyes for a moment and then asked, “How was your day?”

“Fraught with worry.”

He merely cocked one eyebrow at her questioningly. “Do elaborate.”

She shook her head, not knowing how to voice any of her questions. She stuttered out a few I's and we's but couldn't formulate the words for how she was feeling. “My ability to express myself vanishes whenever we are in the same room.”

The side of his mouth kicked up into a half grin. She never saw him smile for anyone but her, and that had her heart pounding to its own tempo in her chest.

“I'll take that as a compliment,” he said, smoothing his finger over the creases between her brows. “Tell me what has you worried.”

“Us. You. Your expectations of me. You ignoring me after the meeting with Lord Murray and Mr. Shauley this morning, after dismissing me from your company as though my presence was relegated to that of a dimwitted spouse.”

Nick sighed heavily. “I regret my reaction to seeing Shauley and you in the same room, but my worry was for your safety. The less he can guess about what is happening between us, the easier it is for me to keep him at arm's length. I should have explained that before I left, but I wasn't thinking clearly.”

Mr. Shauley might have seemed creepy, and there was no denying that his presence had made her uncomfortable, but . . . “Why do you have that opinion of Lord Murray's secretary?”

“I know Shauley more than I care to. We grew up together in St. Giles. Our mothers were in the same . . . profession. We had a falling out many years ago and have avoided each other since and for good reason. If he can hurt the people I love to get back at me, he will.”

Amelia knew she had to pick her questions carefully, for Nick would change the topic and give her nothing of himself if she dug too deep. “Do you care to elaborate on your falling out?”

“He's a dangerous man, Amelia, and you need to avoid him. Trust me in this matter.”

None of what he was saying was really an answer, but she would take him at his word. It sounded as though Mr. Shauley knew something more of Nick's past . . . more than to which she'd been privy. “Did you settle everything with Lord Murray?” she asked.

“He won't be going anywhere anytime soon. He needs my money more than he needs to keep the family lands. He can be as angry as he likes for the delays I've caused. I've been preoccupied by matters far more important to me.” Nick ran his thumb over her chin, the move sensual and designed to make her forget the rest of her questions. “He's a concern for another day.”

Her eyes slipped shut. Other things had been niggling at the back of her mind all day, but it was hard to recall those questions while he was touching her so innocently . . . yet so intimately.

She finally remembered. “And us?”

“My expectations?”

She nodded, as she stared at his lips.

“I would never ask for anything more than you are willing to give. You are your own person. What we have isn't shameful, not when we feel the way we do about each other.”

“How can you call it anything but? I won't argue that with you, but the rest of the house cannot ever know how we carry on in the evenings.”

“Neither of us is naïve enough to believe our time together is a secret to anyone. Least of all those living in this house.” Nick placed his fingers under her chin to tilt it up.

He was right. Even though she knew they needed to set clear boundaries that would make everyone believe nothing sinful was happening between them, she found it hard to refuse him anything. What a conundrum she was in—her heart warring with her mind on the right course of action.

“I noticed Huxley's absence today,” she said. “Has something happened?”

He curled his hand around hers, his larger size engulfing her, making her feel so small next to him. “I should have told you before I left, but I needed to see the truth for myself. It could have been a hoax, I kept telling myself; it was too easy to happen this way. And it still doesn't feel right.”

“It's my brother, isn't it?”

“My sweet Amelia. I have bad news about your brother.”

“Did you meet with him today? Is that why Huxley wasn't here?”

He nodded, hesitant.

“Just tell me what has happened.”

“If I could shield you from this, I would. But you deserve the truth, as much as it pains me to relay it to you.” He paused and entwined their hands. She looked at their fingers, tangled, his tanned skin in juxtaposition to her paleness. “A police inspector was here this morning. Just before Lord Murray's arrival. I'm sorry, Amelia, but . . . your brother is dead.”

She heard a ringing in her ears, and her body suddenly felt numb. Her heart actually skipped a beat with her sudden inhalation. “Huxley said he was staying with a friend this past week. He was—” She swallowed against the nerves making it hard for her talk, and her lip trembled before she could temper the reaction. “I don't understand. How is this possible?”

“I intend to find out what happened.” Nick watched her without saying more.

Was he expecting her to cry? There was no press of tears in the back of her eyes. Did that mean something was wrong with her? What kind of person did that make her? She felt nothing except . . . numb. Everything was numb. She stood from Nick's lap, disentangling their hands as she backed away from him. “This is
impossible
,” she whispered.

“I went down to the city morgue myself to confirm what the inspector told me.” Nick stood, following her every step.

“How?”

“He was murdered.”

Her breath hitched in her lungs. Her hands shook so hard that she had to dig her nails into her palms to steady them. Denials built in her throat, but no sound or words came out.

How was someone supposed to digest the news of a blood relative being murdered?

Should she feel anger? She didn't. Should she feel elated that she didn't have to watch her back constantly? That felt wrong too.

She shook her head. “He's masterminded some sort of trick. He was always good at manipulating everyone around him. This isn't real. It can't be. I know my brother, Nick.”

She heard the pleading in her own voice. This was wrong. It was all wrong.

“Amelia.” Nick took another step toward her and reached for her arm. He pulled her close, tucking her head against his chest. The steady cadence of his heart in her ear helped even out her breathing, but it did not still the shaking that overtook her whole body.

“I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news.” His arms were strong and steady, and they were the only thing keeping her on her feet.

“This is not possible,” she whispered into his shoulder. She felt as though she were in a terrible nightmare, one from which she was unable to wake.

Nick's hand smoothed over her hair, the gesture soothing but far from placating her emotions.

“I didn't believe it either. So I didn't tell you until I'd seen it with my own eyes.”

She turned her head up at him. “I need to see him.”

Nick looked back at her long and hard. “Foolish girl.”

Amelia grasped his jacket at the sleeves. “I won't ever believe it if I don't see him.”

“I won't lie to you, Amelia. He is far from resembling the brother you remember.”

She appreciated that he didn't deny her this one request. “My brother has tormented me all my life, Nick. It was as though making me miserable was a sick game. I will never believe him gone unless I see him with my own eyes.” Her lips trembled, and she took in a shaky breath. “I need closure if I am to move on and put my past behind me, once and for all.”

“If that's what you want, I won't stop you. I will never take your choices away from you.” He brushed back a stray curl of her hair and tucked it behind her ear. “I'll be right there for you if you need me.”

“I wouldn't want anyone but you at my side.”

Nick raised her hands to his mouth and pressed kisses to her knuckles.

“You said an inspector told you what had happened?”

He nodded, his gaze never leaving hers.

“Tell me what he said, Nick.”

“That I was the last person seen with your brother.”

She tried to pull her hands away. Surely he wasn't suspected of killing her brother. “But that was a week ago.”

“I know. That's why I left so suddenly this morning. I had to find out who else had been in your brother's company. Huxley went down to see the inspector today and vouched for my whereabouts last night.”

“Not . . .?” Why hadn't he asked her?

Nick rubbed his hands over her arms. “No. I won't ask you to do that.”

“What did Huxley think of that?”

“I know he suspects what is happening between us, but he won't ask, and he won't say anything to anyone.”

She breathed a small sigh of relief that Huxley would remain circumspect. Though knowing they were not pulling the wool over anyone's eyes should set her straight and make her want to stop their affair . . . she
couldn't
. Nick was as essential as the air she breathed; without him, she would slowly suffocate.

“We both saw my brother a week ago, as did a number of people outside this house when he accosted me. Surely he's been busy in gambling hells since then. Those places are rife with patrons.”

“And prostitutes, criminals, and members of society who don't want to be found out.” He kissed her forehead as though to apologize for the reality of that statement. “I know he was never kind to you. I know he made your life a living hell, but I also know how hard it is to lose someone who has been a constant in your life for as long as you can remember.”

“I won't mourn him.” She squared her shoulders, feeling calmer and more in power of her life now than she'd ever felt before.

“I am not suggesting you do. This once, I'll go along with whatever you tell me. I'm here for you, Amelia. Is that a deal?”

“How are you possible or even real?”

“I'm as real as you are.”

“Thank you,” she whispered and folded herself in Nick's arms, the place she felt safest.

T
rue to his word, Nick accompanied her to the dead house. Amelia sat in the carriage and waited while Nick went inside to talk to the undertaker. The building looked like any ordinary chapel. Ivy grew along the fascia of the stone building and curled around the lead-paned windows, adding life to a place full of death.

There weren't any places like this in Berwick, so she had nothing to compare to it, but she hadn't expected the exterior to look quite so . . . pleasant and cheerful. So what had she expected? Some back-alley dungeon filled with rats and filth?

Nick stepped out of the building followed by a slender younger man, clean-shaven, with wheat-blond hair. She looked at him straight on from the carriage, though he was focused on Nick as they conversed.

The undertaker's shirt was rolled up at the sleeves. It had been washed and bleached so many times that it was a soft yellow instead of white. The top of his tan-colored waistcoat was visible under the stained brown leather apron that fell past his knees. The dark stains on the apron spoke to the type of job he performed and grotesquely reminded her of the butcher back home.

Amelia couldn't seem to look away from him. What kind of man would want to take on such a profession?

Banishing her troubling thoughts, she continued to study the bloodstains splashed across his midsection, as if that would prove that she could do this. If she couldn't face what this man did for a living, how would she ever make it past the threshold of the chapel?