One Night of Sin (28 page)

“Don’t condescend to me. I know full well what is at stake.”

“Do you? My village is depending on me—and I’m depending on you, as you promised I could.”

“Do you want my help or not?”

They stared at each other in the darkness for a long, searing moment.

“God, what am I doing to you?” she whispered, shaking her head with a look of guilt. “Why didn’t you just tell me flat out how dangerous gambling is for you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“It really is a problem for you, isn’t it? Don’t deny it. That was the deep, dark hole that you told me you fell into. And now—it’s not enough that you’re risking your life for me—now I see you’re also risking yourself in a way that might be even worse.”

“Oh, Becky.” Feeling acutely self-conscious, Alec turned away and rubbed his face wearily. “I gave you my word you could count on me. Legion though my faults may be, I do not break my word.”

She shook her head, staring at him. “I don’t know what to do. I need your help, but I fear this is asking too much of you. You haven’t even seen what we’re fighting for.”

He looked straight at her. “Oh, yes, I have.”

Her shoulders dropped as she held his gaze, realizing he was speaking about her.

“Becky.” Alec went to her, resting his hands on her delicate shoulders. “Did it ever occur to you that I might need to help
you
just as badly as you need my help? Please,” he said in a gentle tone. “Let me do something for once that actually matters. I was all right in there. I knew exactly what I was doing. That’s the way gaming goes. We can quit for tonight since you’ve obviously had enough, but you have
got
to trust me.”

He heard her sigh of distress; she was still for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” she said at length, shaking her head. “You’re right. I guess it was beginner’s nerves, as you said. I’m just not used to this, Alec.”

“You’re not used to letting others help you, either, are you?” he countered softly.

“No,” she admitted. “I usually find it easier just to do something myself, but this time . . .” She shrugged. “I can’t.”

“Well, I can. This is exactly what I’m good at. You don’t have to be afraid,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her brow. “We’re on the same side here. I will be careful. I promise.”

“I’ll watch out for you the best I can, all the same,” she murmured, slipping her arms around his waist and laying her head on his chest. “Whatever happens, I won’t let you fall back down into any deep, dark holes, Alec.” She pulled back a bit and looked up into his eyes. “If I see any sign that you’re losing control, I’m calling it off. I won’t be responsible for harming you after you saved my life.”

“You’re not going to harm me, Becky. I’m a big boy.”

“Yes, but gambling’s the reason your family’s angry at you, isn’t it?”

“Well, yes,” he admitted.
Indirectly.
But he had no intention of telling her about Lady Campion.

“You scared me in there, Alec.”

“Well, you scared me, too, when you ran off,” he answered, cupping her face in his hand. “How am I supposed to protect you if you won’t stay put?”

“I had to get you out of there. It seemed the only way.” Her intent stare as she studied him seemed to demand his complete honesty.

Faced with it, Alec felt something akin to pins and needles running throughout his whole body. “What’s the matter? Why are you looking at me like that?” he murmured.

She shook her head. “I guess I’m still not totally convinced.”

“Not convinced?” he exclaimed.

She shook her head with a look of contrition. “Sorry.”

Letting out a startled huff of indignation, he released her from his embrace and paced a few feet away, scowling. He raked his hand through his hair, feeling restless and slightly trapped.

Bloody hell!

How was a rake to function when this hardheaded girl seemed to see right through his every move? He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Damn it, Becky, can’t you give an inch?”

“If I did, wouldn’t you take a mile?”

His eyes widened at her answer, then he let out an exasperated laugh and looked up at the night sky, wondering if he had gotten in too deeply over his head this time—not with those Russian blighters or the card games, but with this lovely, too-perceptive female.

After a long moment, he shook his head to himself and let out a cynical sigh. Clearly it was useless trying to deceive her. “Very well, Miss Ward. You win. Yes, gambling can be a problem for me,” he said crisply, his hands braced on his hips. “But I’ll tell you something else. I am no fool.”

“I never said you were—”

“I can control it,” he interrupted fiercely. “For you.”

She held his blazing stare.

“Don’t underestimate me,” he added. “I know full well what’s at stake here.”

Absorbing this, Becky nodded slowly—finally satisfied, it seemed. “Thank you—for explaining. I believe you now.”

He scoffed, prickling all over with self-consciousness.

“I mean it, Alec. Thank you for your honesty.”

He snorted and turned away, still scowling. “Let’s go to Brighton, shall we?” he muttered. Not waiting for her answer, he whistled loudly for the carriage.

They arrived in Brighton by post chaise at sunrise.

Fortunately, Mr. Walsh had sent word ahead to the small staff at the Knight family’s seaside villa to expect them. The postilion found the house without incident and proceeded to carry in their luggage, while Alec and Becky stood beside the yellow bounder, stretching after the ride of some three hours. After their tiff outside the gambling hell, the journey had been a trifle tense, but Alec was prepared to forget about it by now if Becky was.

“The springs on that thing were atrocious,” he muttered, rubbing his neck and longing after his fine high-flyer phaeton, sold months ago to pay off some of his debts; but she paid him little mind, staring at a seagull that stood preening on the hitching post.

She turned to Alec, wide-eyed. “I can hear the ocean.”

“Look behind you,” he advised with a wry half smile.

She turned around slowly and gave a soft gasp, staring at the blue horizon visible between the buildings at the end of the street. “Oh!” she breathed. “Can we go and look at it, Alec?”

“Don’t you want to go into the house first? Settle in?”

She was already on her way, walking toward the beach like a woman in a trance. Something in the set of her shoulders made him hang back, realizing she desired a few moments alone.

He followed at a respectful distance of some dozen paces, watching her and taking in the sun-splashed loveliness of Brighton’s cobbled streets and neat, stuccoed town houses painted in pale colors.

Becky walked all the way down to the wooden railing that ran the length of the Promenade and stood staring at the water, her long dark tresses billowing slowly on the salt-tinged breeze.

Alec joined her at the picturesque railing and stood in silence beside her, studying the luminous pink and orange sunrise trimmed by purple eyelet clouds, with the promise of blue overhead. The sea was smoky green glass with a sluggish surf barely strong enough to curl itself into a wave at the shore; the pebble beach was a jumble of strewn confetti-stones, pink and orange, mottled white and blue-gray.

“So, this is sunrise,” he whispered, then added cynically, “I usually sleep through it.”

“It’s so beautiful.” Her face was illumined by the eastern glow, creamy skin, rosy cheeks.

Alec stared.

“I haven’t seen the sea in years,” she murmured. “Not since Mama and I moved away from Portsmouth.”

He saw her touching the tiny seashell that she wore around a ribbon on her neck and knew she was thinking of her father; but he was taken utterly off guard when she slowly unfastened her treasured necklace and put it in his hand.

“Here,” she said somberly. “I want you to have this.”

“Becky, I can’t—”

“Take it.” She closed his fingers into a loose fist around her talisman. “Keep it with you.”

“I don’t understand,” he whispered, searching her face with a gentle gaze. “This necklace means so much to you. Why are you giving it to me?”

“For luck,” she offered, but her eyes told him it was much more than that. As she smiled wistfully at him, tendrils of her hair billowing on the breeze, Alec stepped closer, inexorably drawn to her. She held his hand. “After all, I won’t always be able to be with you to give you my kiss for luck when you’re gaming to raise the money for my house. You told me how most of these card parties are gentlemen-only events.”

“Nor can we risk Kurkov finding out you’re here.”

“Now at least you’ll have this.” She smiled warmly at him as she cradled his closed fist between her hands; but distress lined her smooth forehead faintly as she gazed at him. “I shall worry about you so.”

“Don’t. I’ll have you home very soon, my darling.” He cupped her petal-soft cheek in his hand, bent his head and kissed her softly.

She sighed under the light caress of his lips and laid her hand on his chest. She seemed as happy as he was to leave their minor spat behind. Ending the kiss, Alec watched her open her eyes dreamily. She held his gaze with an innocent stare that seemed to reach right into his soul.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her heart in her eyes—and her life in his hands. “Thank you for all of this.”

Alec was shaken by the faith and trust that he knew she now placed in him by an act of will. A decision.

Narrowing his eyes against the light, he took her face between his fingertips and gave her a reassuring smile, but his thoughts were fierce and warlike. He fairly trembled with his determination to make her proud.
My darling, you can thank me when it’s over.
In grim silence he tucked her protectively under his arm, pressed a kiss to her head, and then showed her into the house.

While Becky unpacked her things, her heart light with the knowledge that her cousin and his men were many miles away and had no idea where she was, Alec visited Raggett’s, Brighton’s leading club for gentlemen, to procure invitations to a few private, high-stakes games.

When he returned at midday with news that he had now secured a seat in three upcoming contests, they dined alfresco in the walled garden beneath a striped open tent that the servants had erected. The table was elegantly set with a white damask tablecloth and gleaming silver. On that warm and pleasant afternoon, Becky was beginning to find Alec’s flair for enjoying life contagious.

He related the local gossip that he had picked up at the club, and then they discussed a few practicalities. “Yes, the servants are a little scandalized, I fear, but don’t worry about them,” he confided. “They’re loyal, and they’re used to my ‘shenanigans.’ I’ve told them they are not to allow anyone to see you or to know that you are here.” He took a sip of chilled white wine. “I gave them the excuse that I don’t want Robert finding out I’ve brought my ‘mistress’ to the villa.”

“Ah, very clever.”

“By the way, I didn’t tell the staff your real name—just in case any of them should spread gossip. I’m not taking any chances.”

“Oh? What is my name to be?”

“Abby.”

“Abby?”

He shrugged. “It’s the first thing that popped into mind. From Aboukir, your middle name.”

“Do I have a last name?” she asked with a wry smile as she plucked a grape from the bunch.

He blushed slightly and looked away. “Lawrence,” he mumbled.

“Really?” She grinned, recalling that he had told her Preston-Lawrence was his real father’s last name, the actor. “Miss Abby Lawrence, eh? Pleased to meet you.”

He gave her a sardonic look.

“So, how long might it take you to win five thousand pounds?”

“Not long, I hope. Within a fortnight or so, if all goes well.”

“Amazing.” She could see how one could become addicted to such quick and easy profits. “Do you play tonight?”

“No,” he replied with a sensuous note in his murmur. “Not tonight.”

It made her blood burn.

For a long moment they were locked in a speculative, hungry stare. Becky felt her heart skip a beat. “We’ll have to find some other way to amuse ourselves, then.”

“I can think of one or two.”

“I’m sure you can, my lord.” She sent him the subtlest of wicked smiles and then lowered her gaze, savoring a dainty spoonful of her sugary lemon ice with fresh blueberries on top. “You know, the second time, they say, doesn’t hurt at all.”

“That is what they say,” he purred. He took a drink of wine and licked his lips.

She flinched, staring at his lovely mouth. “Alec?”

“Yes, Becky?”

“When?” she whispered.

“Just as soon as you change your mind about marrying me,” he replied, returning to his study of the racing odds printed in the sporting newspaper that he had been perusing.

“But—” Her voice broke off.

“Yes?” He glanced up with a sly look of nonchalance.

Becky frowned. “It’s not as if I don’t want to marry you. I know I’m compromised—even more so now. But . . .”

He lifted his eyebrows. “But I’m too much of a rake and you don’t think I’ll ever change.”

His words startled her.

“I’ve heard that a few times before,” he explained drily.

“Actually, that wasn’t what I was going to say.”

“Oh, very well. I’ll bite. ‘But’ what, Becky-love?”

“As I told you in that little church, a woman has honor, too. Look at all you’ve done for me. You deserve to be happy. I, more than anyone else, must insist on your happiness. It’s bad enough that I’ve tangled you up in all this trouble. I won’t also drag you into a situation that might make you unhappy for the rest of your life. You don’t want to get married. You are as free as the wind, that’s clear. None of this was your fault. You don’t deserve to be punished for your honor.”

He looked away, pursed his lips, and then scratched his cheek. “Being married to you, Becky, would hardly rate as punishment.”

She blushed red, her fluttering gaze cast downward. “You’re only saying that to make me feel better.”

“No, I’m saying that, obviously, because I want you in my bed.”

She gasped and looked up, wide-eyed.