To Please A Lady (The Seduction Series) (32 page)

“Unfortunately.” She tilted her head to the side, studying him with curious eyes. “How did you escape?”

“Friends, oddly enough. Something you wouldn’t understand.”

She laughed. “Who needs friends when I have this much power and money? Friends will eventually turn on you anyway, James.”

“Money, yes, but not power.” He took a drink, savoring the burn of the alcohol as it spread down his throat. “You don’t seem to get that. You have no power over Alex. You have no power over Gideon. And now you have no power over me.”

“Oh James, it might be over now, but I’ve certainly had my revenge. For a decade you were completely under my control. I took your childhood. And even now you don’t go to bed at night without thinking of me, of the shame you feel because you sold
yourself.” She stood and he realized with some surprise that she was wearing pink. A soft, girlish pink gown with a demure square neckline and softly flowing skirt.

“You’re not wearing lavender.”

She pressed her hands to her narrow waist and laughed again. “No. I tire of the color. I was wearing it the day I was forced, you know.” She strolled toward the windows, looking out upon her territory. “From that day onward I wore it as a reminder to myself and to those who harmed me.” She smiled tauntingly. “Your father was the worst of them, you know. He actually had a heart, yet he stood by, helped them cover the crime. At least Gideon’s father had the good sense to pay for my silence.” She spread her arms wide. “And here I am… in all this splendor.”

James swallowed hard, his emotions conflicted. She was troubled, insane, and part of him felt guilty for his father’s deed, disappointed that the man he’d adored could have allowed such brutality. But he also knew she would not rest until they were completely and utterly destroyed.

She trailed her fingers across her desktop. “I’m the reason your mother started whoring herself on the streets.”

James went still. She was lying, she must be. His mother wouldn’t…

“I see by the stunned look upon your face you didn’t know.” She grinned and any compassion he felt for her disappeared. “I didn’t set out to ruin your life, merely your father’s, if it makes any difference. But then the bastard went and killed himself. Could he have possibly felt guilty?”

He would not react to her. She was baiting him, trying to draw him into her web of lies and revenge. He wouldn’t bite; instead he decided to turn the tables on her. “I wonder what your family would think if they knew what you’ve been doing since you disappeared,” James said casually. “You’re from France, correct? Your father was a reverend of sorts.”

“Well done! You’re not the meek lamb I thought you were.” She moved to the sideboard and poured herself a brandy. Her lips were curled into a smirk, but he could see the anger there in her eyes and knew he had hit a sore spot. “What will you do, James? Kill me? Tell the world who I really am?”

She returned to her desk and sank into the chair, her glass in hand. The place was silent… so very silent. As the clock on the mantel ticked the seconds by, James kept waiting for Wavers, or someone, to enter. No one came. Something was wrong.

“Do it then,” she demanded, glancing at the pistol he held. “Do it now, get it over with.”

She was right… why not end it all now while he had the chance? He lifted the pistol, pointing it at her chest. “Perhaps I will.”

She held her arms wide and leaned back against her chair. “Then by all means… end it. You’d certainly be better off, I won’t deny that.”

One shot, one bullet and it would be over. As his gaze met hers, he could see the dare in her eyes. His finger trembled over the trigger. How badly he wanted to kill her, to end it all. He could. He could kill her and escape before anyone knew better. He cocked the gun. He could rid the world of her plot for revenge and he could head to Lord Beckett’s home next.

“James, don’t,” Eleanor’s familiar voice called out, startling him.

James jerked his head toward the door. Ellie stood just over the threshold, like a damn angel come to save his soul. A beaten and bruised angel with imploring, heavenly blue eyes that made him rethink everything. His hand began to tremble. It wasn’t real; he’d gone insane. Ellie couldn’t be here.

“Eleanor,” he whispered, his heart hammering so loudly he couldn’t hear what she said. But she was speaking, he could see her lips moving as she started toward him like a bloody dream,
or maybe it was a nightmare. A cold sweat broke out across his forehead.

He didn’t want her to witness Ophelia’s death. He sure as hell didn’t want her to see him become a murderer. “Leave, Ellie. Now.”

“No.” She stepped closer to him. But seeing the bruises marring her beautiful face only made him more determined to kill them and end it all. First Ophelia, and then Lord Beckett. Didn’t she understand that he was doing this for her?

“Damn it, James, she’s trying to manipulate you, and you’re doing exactly what she wants!”

“I know, and I don’t really care.” He returned his attention to Ophelia, intent on ignoring Eleanor and the feelings of humanity she stirred within him. If she had to witness Ophelia’s death, so be it. She would thank him later.

“James,” Eleanor said softly, her voice husky with emotion. “Don’t throw it all away. Beat her at her own game by leaving, by running away with me and embracing a new life.”

“A life?” He released a wry laugh. She made it sound so easy. “How?”

“I’m here,” Eleanor whispered, pressing her hand to his chest. “We’ll find a way to be together.”

“Bravo,” Ophelia said softly. “ ’Tis truly so touching that it’s almost believable.”

Ellie stepped closer, forcing him to lower his eyes and meet her pleading gaze. “Don’t give up hope. Don’t give up on us.”

It was impossible; they could never have a life together. Didn’t she see that? So why did he hesitate? Torn, he looked over her shoulder and met Ophelia’s cold gaze. She wasn’t afraid, he realized with a start. She didn’t care if he pulled the trigger.

“You dared to believe in me when no one else has.” Eleanor stepped closer to him and rested her palm on the side of his face. “You are the most courageous man I know, not because of your brawn, but because of your compassion.”

Her words hit him hard and the gun trembled in his hand. He didn’t know if he could be that man anymore, damn it all if he wanted to be. He gritted his teeth, torn between doing what his heart and his head told him to do. He might not be the caring, easy-natured James everyone knew, but he couldn’t disappoint Eleanor.

“Damn you,” James hissed, dropping the gun to his side. “You give me too much credit.”

“I don’t. I know the real you, James. Don’t let her need for revenge turn you into what she has become.”

He gripped her waist and pulled her close, knowing the stench of his prison clung to his clothing and not caring. He had Ellie, he had his freedom… what more did they need?

“Oh, well done, beautifully said,” Ophelia proclaimed, clapping her hands. “I almost believe you, James.” She surged to her feet, her face cold and bitter. “But we all know you’re nothing more than a street rat.”

James held Ellie tight. “Dear God, you want me to shoot you, don’t you?”

She sneered at him but he didn’t miss the desperate plea in her eyes. Suddenly he understood. The entire world became clear and alive once more. Eleanor had been right. “You want me to kill you so I hang, giving you what you wanted all along. You will have destroyed my life, and you can be done with this world.”

She scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

He pushed Ellie behind him, not trusting Ophelia in the least. “It’s true. You’ve spread your poison and you’re ready to leave because you have nothing to live for anymore.” He took Eleanor’s hand. His body felt lighter, his chest warm and aching. “Look for another to take your bait.”

“James, no,” Ophelia said, her voice laced with desperation. She skirted the desk and started toward them. “Don’t leave me.”

James ignored her plea and led Eleanor toward the door. Alex, Gideon, and Mr. Smith stood in the foyer. They’d seen it all.

“James, I swear I will destroy you!”

Ellie flinched. He started to slide his arm around her waist when he noticed the slight widening of Alex’s eyes. Before he had time to react, Gideon lifted his pistol. The blast rang out, shaking the room. James jerked Ellie close to him.

“Are you all right?” he whispered.

She gave a jerky nod, her heart slamming wildly against his chest. He hated seeing her so afraid. Slowly, Gideon lowered his arm. The acidic scent of gunpowder hung heavy in the air. James spun around.

Ophelia was staring at her hand, blood dripping from the spot where her finger had been. A bloodied mess of managed flesh and bone. Her own pistol lay upon the desk where it had fallen from her hand. Gideon had just saved him… again.

Eleanor gasped, her hand covering her mouth in shock. The sight was too horrifying even for him. Still, Lady Lavender merely stood there staring at her hand, not making a sound. He looked away, leading Ellie toward the hall.

“Vhat the hell happened?” Wavers suddenly appeared, the big bull trembling with shock and anger. He could not harm them now. He was gravely outnumbered.

“Better tend to Ophelia, Wavers,” Alex said softly. “You’re all she has left.”

The woman had sunk into her chair, her face white as snow as she cradled her bloodied hand to her chest. She looked like a child who had just lost her favorite toy. The sight did not bring James any glee.

“Come on,” James whispered. Ellie had seen enough horror in her life; she didn’t need to witness more. He wrapped his arm around her waist and led her through the foyer and out the front door.

“She’ll most likely seek revenge,” Alex said as they found the two carriages waiting.

“Yes, but at least this time we’ll be prepared.”

James helped Ellie into one carriage while Alex, Gideon, and Mr. Smith took the other. He knew enough to know that this wouldn’t be over until they left the country and went into hiding.

They didn’t speak the entire way to London. They didn’t speak after they entered the hotel, even after they made it to their private room and she’d changed into her nightclothes without a glance from him. James ate quickly, as if merely nourishing his body for battle, then left the table to order a bath. The silence was driving her insane.

Eleanor dragged her spoon through the stew. The food smelled and looked delicious, but she had no appetite. From under her lashes she watched James as he bathed. The gleam of his muscled skin in the light of the fire made him practically glow like a golden Adonis. Yet his beauty was marked by bruises, reminders of his pain and all he had gone through thanks to her. The thought that he had come so close to death was something she didn’t dare dwell upon. If only she hadn’t visited Lady Lavender’s in the first place… if only she hadn’t told him the truth, would he be better off?

James leaned back against the tub, his arms relaxed upon the rim as he gazed unblinkingly into the fire. He looked exhausted yet didn’t sleep. Yes, she had talked him out of killing Lady Lavender, but at what price? He seemed almost… defeated, different, not the James she had come to care about. She found herself nervous and unsure what to say around this man.

“Is the water getting cold? Shall I ring for a footman?”

“No.” He stood, water trailing down the dips and planes of his muscled stomach. She wanted to trace the edge of his jaw with her fingertips, wanted to run her hands through that crisp trail of hair that led to his cock. She wanted to press her face into his neck and breathe in his familiar, musky scent while wrapping her hand
firmly around his thick shaft. But mostly she wanted him inside of her, as close as they could possibly be.

He moved a cloth over his body, drying his skin. Eleanor suddenly felt breathless and hot, the room too small. She jerked her gaze away and stood, gripping the table when her legs shook unsteadily. “You should eat more.”

“I’m fine.”

She dared to glance at him. He’d wrapped the cloth around his waist, letting the material fall down to his knees. How she wanted to go to him and press her lips to his, to kiss him thoroughly, deeply, and beg him to care about her again. Perhaps it was all too much and he’d finally realized how much easier his life would be without her. With trembling fingers she lifted the ceramic pot of medicine Patience had given her earlier. James stood near the fireplace, his back to her, his body so still he could have been a statue.

Ellie took in a deep, trembling breath and started toward him. She couldn’t stand the tension anymore. “I should tend to your wounds.”

“No.” He turned to face her.

She paused, confused as he took the jar from her hands and set it on the mantel.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want you to tend to my wounds.”

Her anger and frustration grew. “Damn you, James! Don’t you dare treat me this way! We have a chance here, a chance to find happiness, a life. Don’t you—”

“Eleanor,” he said softly, taking her hands in his. “I don’t want you to tend to my wounds right now because instead, I want to kiss you. I want to make love to you.”