The Black Diamond (3 page)

"This 'morsel' isn't ready for the teaching you have in mind," the baritone shot back.

"She's sure as hell not ready for you."

"No, she's not. But at least I have the good sense to know it." He shifted, hauling
Aurora
against his side and heading away from the table.

"Merlin?"
Aurora
twisted about to assess her rescuer and ask about his unusual name. She was confronted by a broad chest and towering height, which she followed upward to hard masculine features set off by probing eyes the color of topaz, blazing through her like twin bolts of lightning.

Her own twisting motion spawned a surge of dizziness—one that made her stomach lurch with alarming intensity. "I don't feel very well."

"I'm sure you don't." Abandoning all attempts at subtlety, the man named Merlin swung her off her feet and into his arms. "Three rounds of ale—drunk in rapid succession—would make
me
a bit light-headed, and I suspect I'm a far more seasoned drinker than you are." His forward motion ceased, and
Aurora
squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to stop the ceiling from shifting.

"George, which room's empty?" Merlin's voice rumbled against her ear.

"Take number four—second down on your left," the tavern keeper responded.

"T
hank
s. Send up coffee. A lot of it."

He was moving again, ascending a staircase,
Aurora
's unsettled stomach informed her.

Good-natured teasing followed in their wake. "'ey, Merlin, let us know 'ow she is!"

"Yeah, and if she's as quick a study as she claims, we'll all 'elp teach 'er!"

The man carrying her swore quietly under his breath, shoving open a door and striding inside.

Aurora
winced as the door slammed shut behind them. "Too loud," she muttered.

"Get used to it. Everything is going to sound loud until that coffee does its job. Do you need a chamber pot?"

"No. I'm never sick."

"Really? And how often are you foxed?" With that he deposited her on the bed.

"Never. I…" Startled,
Aurora
looked about, her retort dying on her lips as the significance of what she'd inadvertently accomplished registered in her cloudy mind. A room. Complete with a bed. And a man—one who seemed rational enough to listen rather than to immediately ravage her.

Instantly her stomach calmed.

"Perfect," she declared, congratulating herself for achieving precisely what she'd intended, when a moment earlier it had seemed as if her entire plan was about to explode in her face.

How much time did she have?

Squinting, she tried to focus on the clock on the mantel. "What time is it?"

"
Half after ten
. What the hell do you mean, 'perfect'? Perfect for what? What did you think you were doing down there just now?"

She sighed, lifting the cool pillow and pressing her cheek against it to still the throbbing in her head. "Staging my own ruin. At least what others would assume to be my ruin. Although, had you not come along, I fear my downfall would have been fact rather than fabrication. For which I'm extraordinarily grateful." She massaged her temples. "The situation was looking quite grim. Now, t
hank
s to your intervention my scheme will succeed. Any moment now."

Aurora
watched as Merlin pulled a chair alongside the bed and straddled it. He was sinfully handsome, she noted.
That
was an indisputable fact—foxed though she might be. True, his good looks weren't the classic kind Lord Guillford had, nor even the chiseled kind Slayde boasted. Rather, Merlin was handsome in a darkly alluring way that hinted at danger, open seas, freedom, and adventure—the kind of life she yearned for and couldn't begin to fathom. His powerful build, clad in an open-necked shirt and breeches, defied convention; his black hair, rumpled and longer than fashion dictated, swept his forehead in harsh, rebellious lines. His eyes, those fiery chips of topaz, were turbulent, alive, exciting. He looked like a pagan god-wicked, seductive—ideal for convincing the
ton
that she was in fact a fallen woman.

"Merlin," she murmured. "How unusual. Is it your given name or your surname?"

"Neither. 'Tis an acquired name."

"Ah. Then you're as brilliant as Arthur's advisor?"

"No. I'm as formidable as a falcon."

"The merlin?"
Aurora
inclined her head, puzzled. "But he's one of the smallest falcons. And 'small' is hardly a term I'd use to describe you."

"Agreed. But the merlin is also swift, unerring, and deceptively nonthreatening. All of which describe me perfectly." With that, Merlin leaned forward. "You said you were staging your own ruin. Or what others would assume to be your ruin. Why? Or should I say, for whom?"

"For the benefit of a kind, charming, and incredibly conventional man," she supplied. "However, that needn't concern you. All you need to do is sit there. Well, perhaps not just sit there." Frowning,
Aurora
tossed masses of tumbled hair from her face. "I suppose the two of us should look a bit more compromising than two friends sharing coffee. Perhaps an embrace? Not until the dowager arrives, of course. Until then we can just chat. In any case, I'll pay you handsomely for what will amount to no more than an hour's work…"

One dark brow rose. "Pay me? For staging your ruin?"

"Exactly."

"How much?"

Aurora
propped herself on one elbow, groping in her pocket. "A hundred pounds."

"A hundred pounds?" he repeated.

She heard the incredulous note in his voice and interpreted it as scoffing. Swiftly she reacted, reaching out and gripping his wrist to stay his flight. "Please don't go. I originally intended to offer two hundred pounds. But the remaining funds were in my brother's study. And I couldn't snatch them without being spied." She searched Merlin's face. "I'll owe you the other hundred pounds. I'm honest; I promise you that. We'll arrange a time and place to meet, at which time I'll pay you the rest. Only please—don't leave."

His gaze fell to her fingers, although he made no move to pry them from his wrist. "Two hundred pounds—a lavish sum. Tell me, Rory, who is this man for whom you want to be ruined?"

"My prospective husband. You see, I'm being forced to marry him. The only way I can free myself from the betrothal is to compromise myself."

Merlin's lips twitched. "I take it your conventional groom-to-be expects an untouched bride?"

"Absolutely."

"And I also assume that to complete this facade you've arranged for us to be discovered?" He awaited
Aurora
's nod. "By whom? Your father or the bridegroom himself?"

"Neither. By the biggest gossip in
Devonshire
. In fact…"

Aurora
was interrupted by a knock.

"Is that she?" Merlin inquired, calmly remaining in his seat.

"No. 'Tis too soon."

"Then it's probably our coffee." He rose. "I'll get it. You're in no shape to stand up, much less walk." He crossed over and opened the door.

"Your refreshment," one of the barmaids announced, smiling at Merlin as she carried in a tray, placed it on the table. Seeing
Aurora
, she reached into her bodice and extracted a folded sheet. "There's an urchin downstairs who insists I give this message to the red-haired lady in the fancy gown. I assume he means you. If so, he says you owe him five pounds."

Unsteadily
Aurora
reached for the folded sheet. Smoothing it out, she forced her attention on the words.

Dear 'friend'
, it read.
T
hank
you for the tidbit. I'll look into it at once. Lady Altec.

"Splendid!"
Aurora
nearly toppled from the bed. Resettling herself, she dug in her pocket and extracted two five-pound notes. "I'm grateful to you—and the lad. Please see that he gets one of these. The other is yours."

"T
hank
you." The barmaid's words were for
Aurora
, but her gaze was on Merlin. "Will there be anything else?"

"Not tonight, Bess," he replied.

"If you should think of something…"

"I'll summon you at once," he assured her, holding open the door. "But for now, good night."

"Good night." With another wistful look, she was gone.

The instant the door closed behind her, Merlin turned back to
Aurora
. "Does the arrival of that note mean the 'biggest gossip in
Devonshire
' is on her way?"

A nod.

"Then the coffee can wait. First, we'd best discuss that compromising position you mentioned." He walked over, bypassing the chair and sinking down on the bed beside her.

A quiver—was it of warning or excitement?—ran up
Aurora
's spine. "Very well."

He leaned closer, studying her features as one would assess a fine painting prior to purchasing it. "You're a very beautiful woman."

How did one respond to so blatant a compliment?
Aurora
mused. Especially when one's dealings with men were as limited—as nonexistent—as hers?

Her silence spawned a flicker of curiosity in Merlin's eyes, tiny golden flames against burnished topaz. "Let me ask you something, Rory. Do you understand what was going to happen after
Jackson
whisked you upstairs?"

"What he
intended
to happen,"
Aurora
corrected. "And of course I do. I might be foxed, but I'm not stupid."

Merlin's lips twitched. "I didn't mean to suggest that you were. I was merely trying to assess the degree of your naïveté."

"I'm not naive."

"No? Then how did you plan to extricate yourself from
Jackson
's
intentions?"

A twinkle. "I'm a very resourceful woman, foxed or not. I'm also an expert at eluding those I choose to elude.
Should
Mr. Jackson have managed to drag me upstairs, and
should
he have been unwilling to listen to reason, I would have found the means to escape. I always do."

One dark brow shot up. "How intriguing. Are you often in situations where you need to elude men?"

"Constantly. Other than now."

"Why not now?"

She gave him a beatific smile. "Because I never attempt to elude my allies."

An answering smile tugged at his lips. "How do you know I'm an ally? What if my motives are as untrustworthy as
Jackson
's? What if I decide to take advantage of your offer
and
our privacy by making your ruin an actuality rather than a performance?"

"You won't."

"What makes you so certain?"

"The fact that you want my two hundred pounds."

Merlin threw back his head and laughed. "Touché. It's rare that I'm bested, especially by a woman who's beside me in bed and too deep in her cups to walk away."