The Lady and the Earl (11 page)

“How is this
horse
yours
?” he
asked suspiciously as he took a step toward her. 

She stared at him in confusion. 
He had said something, but what?

“You stole him, didn’t you,” he accused. 

That
she heard. 
“No,” she said in a feeble, barely audible squeak.  She wanted to argue with him and tell him who she was.  She wanted to tell him that Lancelot really did belong to her, but those things she wanted to say wouldn’t come.  Her mind was blank, and her tongue was tied.  She was completely baffled. 
What was happening to her?

She stepped to the side, hoping to get a clear path to Lancelot and simply make a break for it. 

As though reading her thoughts, he moved swiftly toward her, reaching out and grabbing her muddied arm tightly.
 
She stared at him in surprise. 
He’d
been so fast; she
could
n’
t
react. 

“You a
re coming with me,” he stated
,
pulling her toward his horse. 

“No, let me go!” s
he cried out frantically as she struggled against his strong grip.  His powerful hold on her mind had finally broken. 

“I’
m taking you back to
Westbrook
until you tell me who you are and whose horse this truly is,” he said as he struggled to pull her along. 

She was putting all her weight into trying to pull her arm free. 

“You’re trying my patience.  Stop fighting me, boy.  You’re coming with me whether you want to or not.”  He grabbed her othe
r arm, facing her to him.  “Do
n’
t make me—
Ah!
”
h
e cried
out in pain
, releasing his grip on her and falling to his knees in pain. 

Allana
had kicked him as hard as she could in the groin, causing him to release her on contact and fall to his knees. 

Finally free, she ran to Lancelot, untied him, and quickly mounted.  She took one last look at the man she knew must be the Earl of
Westbrook
before spurring Lancelot home. 

“How are you, Lucas?”
Connor asked his friend.  Lucas had come by the house for a visit. 
Lord
Archibald Hoffman’s
funeral had been two days ago, and Lucas looked ragged and tired.  He’d probably been drinking a lot, staying up late into the nights until unconsciousness took him. 

“As well as ever,” Lucas replied.  “Do you think I could get a drink
?” he
asked, laughing lightly.  Both men were situated in the two chairs in the sitting room Allana and Connor had occupied
five
nights before.

“Yes, of course.”  Connor gathered two glasses and poured sherry into both.  His stomach
turned at the thought of drinking too much of the stuff again. 
His first night home
he’d
gotten very drunk
from
it.
  His memories
of
that night were hazy, but he definitely remembered vomiting from his over indulgence and the horrible headache that followed.  

Pushing those thoughts aside, Connor turned his attention back to Lucas.  “Now really, how are you doing?” 

Connor was the man people came to if they had problems, especially Lucas.  Lucas always came to him to complain about something or boast about his latest conquest, so Connor assumed
—or
rather hoped
—L
ucas was here today to vent about his late father. 

“I’
m exhausted for one thing. 
I h
aven’t slept much lately.  But beyond that, I do
not
know, Connor,” Lucas said truthfully.  “
I thought I would be glad when he finally died, but I
feel,” he paused.  “
I feel…mournful.
”
  He nodded to himself as if that was indeed the word he was looking for.

Connor
nodded in understanding.  He’
d known Lucas as far back as he could remember, and it seemed even in their early friendship, Lucas hated his father.  “
Perhaps that’
s because you wish things could have been different between you and your father.”

“Perhaps, but I cannot change that, and he did not try,” Lucas
answered
.

“Then maybe you
wish you could have settled things between the two of you before he passed
.
” 

Lucas laughed.  “What?  Just forgive and forget
?” he
sneered. 

Connor shrugged.  “I suppose so.”

Lucas studied him for a minute, mellowing.  “I did
…
at first.  I was ac
tually angry when he grew sick
.
”
  He paused,
draining his glass of sherry. 

“
And
?”
Connor asked even though he knew he didn’t need to.  Lucas would tell him
whether he wanted to know or not.  That’s just the way it was between them.

“You know how much I hated him?” Lucas questioned.

Connor nodded.

“Well, one night—one of his sane ni
ghts—he looked at me and said,
‘
I am
truly
sorry,
Lucas.  I’
ve been a terrible father.  Can you ever forgive me?
’
  As though those words on his deathbed were supposed to make up for all of those years of torment.  I was scum in that man’s eyes, and sudde
nly he wanted my forgiveness?”
Lucas laughed bitterly.

“What did you say to him?”
Connor asked
,
taking a sip of sherry and regretting it the instant he did.  His stomach churned
,
about forcing the sip along with his morning meal back up.  Maybe he should have found something else to drink. 

“Well, I couldn’t very well tell the old man the truth, could I?  So I just stood there, fighting my anger.  I was fuming.  I hated him more than ever at that moment.  I wanted to take his pillow and suffocate the life
from
him.  I even had a pillow in my hands ready to do the deed,” Lucas finished, staring darkly at the fireplace.

“What did you do?” 

“What do you think I did?  You think I smothered him, don’t you,” Lucas asked with amusement.

“I hope not, but it had crossed my mind,” Connor replied honestly. 

Lucas laughed.  “That i
s what I like
best
about you, C
onnor, your frankness.
”

“I’
ve never found any reason to be otherwise with you, Lucas.  You always find out the truth of
matters
, so why hide or avoid it?”
Connor replied. 
He’d
never been able to lie to Lucas
, and there was only one secret he had ever been able to keep from his friend, a secret Lucas still did not know. 
“So what happened?”

“I did not kill him, even though I wanted to.  I placed the pillow behind his head and
lied to him.”

“You told him you forg
ave him,” Connor supplied.  “I’
m impressed Lucas.  You gave him peace before he died. 
Very noble
…
almost too noble for you.”

Lucas laughed.  “It was painful, but the man
was
on his deathbed. 
Could I truly have sent him to his
grave
any other way?  Not even I am that heartless.”

“No?”

“Well, maybe I am.  I had a moment of weakness apparently.”  Both men laughed at that. 
Lucas’s
laughter
was dark though. 

Sometimes Connor felt
a coldness
from him, a coldness bordering on the brink of malice.  Lucas could be just plain cruel.  Connor had experience
d
that side of
him
firsthand
.
It was not pretty, and Conno
r had lost far more than he
ever imagined possible.
 

“Either way, it was a wise choice.  It led to other, more pleasurable activities,” Lucas said smugly.

“Such as?”
Connor asked. 
I should have kept my mouth shut,
he thought as soon as those words were out. 

“I played
The Game,
Connor.
 
It’
s
always relax
ing
to make love to a beautiful woman
.
”

“What?” Connor croaked.  His body visibly jerked, his sherry sloshing around in his glass.  He set the glass down hard.  Panic rushed through him, followed by a fierce rage as he thought of Lucas seducing Allana.  Was she his latest trophy? 
Don’t jump to any conclusions just yet, Connor.  Calm down.  It could have been any
one
. 
“Do I know her
?” he
asked aloud, trying to sound as casual as possible.  Inside he felt murderous.   

Lucas raised an eyebrow at Connor, eyeing his glass of sherry and his sudden tenseness. 
“Been a while since you’ve cared.  Why now?”

“Just curious,” Connor lied.  He needed to know if it had been Allana Lucas had played for.

“Of course,” Lucas replied
with a knowing look
.  “You may relax, Connor.  It was Maggie.”

“The maid?”
  Relief flooded through Connor, causing him to sink back into his chair. 

“Yes, and probably the best opponent I
’
ve had in a long time.  At least since you quit playing,” Lucas replied as a smug smile spread across his face. 

Connor rolled his eyes.  He knew what was coming next: a drawn out, detailed tale of
Lucas’s
conquest.  Connor had tried in the past to get Lucas to quit telling him about each woman he seduced and conquered, but it only made Lucas draw out his stories more.  He found it amusing to enlighten Connor with the details of
The Game
. 

The Game,
Connor thought sadly.  It had started when they were sixteen and
were
first invited to the
Davenhue’s
yearly Christmas party.  They made a bet to see who could get a kiss from one of the girls attending.  Connor picked the lucky girl for Lucas, and Lucas picked for Connor.  At the end of the night, they gave the details, and the winner of the bet took the pot.  Connor remembered Lucas winning that first night.  It had been exhilarating, so they continued the bet at each party they attended, calling their little competition
The Game
to keep suspicion at bay.  If they both succeeded, then the money they had bet would carry over to the next time they played until someone won. 

When they moved to London, the stakes rose from a kiss to more, and eventually they were betting on who could seduce his girl to his bed first.  There had been a time when Connor actually enjoyed the thrill of it.  He even bested Lucas a time or two, but then he
fell
in love with
his bet.  Lucas had chosen her for her innocence and seeming hate for Connor, and Connor had fallen f
or her, fallen beyond hope. 
T
hen he found her in bed with Lucas.  The pain it caused his heart was excruciating.  That was the last time he played
The Game,
and the last time he trusted Lucas. 

Lucas, on the other hand, continued to play even without a challenger.  He
claimed
the challenge each woman brought was enough for him.  Thus, he continued his roguish ways, seducing woman after woman and giving Connor the repulsive details.  Now Lucas was telling Connor about Maggie.

Connor shook his head in disgust.  “Do you ever think of what this does to these young
women
, Lucas?  How much chance does this give them of a normal
marriage,
or for some like
Maggie, any marriage at all?”
Connor asked in frustration.

“Do not lecture me, Connor.  I remember a time when you were the same as I,” Lucas said coldly.  “We were both players of
The Game
at one point.  In fact, there was even a time when you might have been the better player.”

Connor shook his head.  That was not entirely true.  Connor played the game in his own way:  make Lucas believe he was bedding his bets when in actuality he was not. 
“But I’
ve changed.  I haven’t participated in it for nearly five years now, and I think you should consider putting a stop to it,” Connor argued.