Wicked Designs (The League of Rogues) (31 page)

Her love for him burned hotter and brighter each hour she spent with him, but that love would kill him if she didn’t leave. Blankenship’s men would arrive and there’d be bloodshed on all sides.

She considered telling him the truth, telling him what Evangeline had said, but she couldn’t. He and the other lords were nothing if not prideful and stubborn. They would vow to defend her and someone would get hurt or killed. Their blood could not stain her hands, they had become like family. She had to leave. Perhaps she could send Blankenship a letter when she reached Blackbriar, tell him she escaped and he would have no luck at the Essex estate. She could only hope it would work and keep them all safe.

Godric’s hand gently stroked her hair, the sensation so soothing and calming that she could barely stay awake. She needed a moment longer.

“Godric…”

“Hmm?” His response vibrated her body in its soft rumble.

“Thank you.”

“What have I done now?”

“You showed me a part of life I might have missed otherwise.”

The back of his knuckles brushed along her cheek. “If you were a chance, my dear, then it was my good fortune to take you.”

Her eyes burned. She couldn’t cry, not now.

“I know I shouldn’t say it, since it ruins our moments…but I love you.” She might never see him again after this and she wanted to know she was brave enough to say it to him, one last time.

“You could never ruin anything, darling.”

Godric raised her head to his and slanted his mouth down over hers. It didn’t matter how he kissed her, chastely or lustily, she came to life at his touch. Her tongue danced between his lips. He groaned softly, fisting his hand in her hair. His fingertips massaged her scalp, and Emily’s hands slid along his chest, reveling in the hot skin beneath her fingertips.

“Make love to me,” she pleaded between deep, languid kisses.

“As you command.”

Chapter Fifteen

The house was rid of Evangeline Mirabeau long before breakfast was even set. Someone had seen to her early departure, and the rest of the house was none the wiser as to who it was. It would seem that, having played her role, she had wisely chosen to leave lest she still be around when Blankenship’s men arrived. The relief among the lords was tangible. Breakfast became a cheery affair, and despite Emily’s plans to depart, she took advantage of these last few hours with her friends. For they were just that. She’d miss Ashton mothering over the others. She’d miss Lucien’s attempts to hide behind his newspaper while teasing the others. She wouldn’t get to fish or hunt with Cedric, nor listen to Charles’s outlandish tales.

And Godric… She would miss
life
with him, but she had no choice.

“Toast, Emily?” Charles offered a plate of toast as it came her way, breaking through her dark thoughts.

“Why, thank you, Charles,” she said.

“You’re welcome.” The earl winked, and when she fetched a slice of toast, he passed the plate over her head to Ashton.

“What has everyone planned for today?” Ashton asked the table at large.

Charles precariously balanced on the back two legs of his chair. “I’ve got some correspondence to catch up on.”

“Oh? You actually answer your letters, do you?” Lucien commented from behind his newspaper.

“Of course I do. Just because I never answer your mother’s letters doesn’t mean I don’t answer any of them”

Lucien folded his paper and gave Charles a stern look. “My mother writes you letters and you don’t answer them?”

“Hang on—” Cedric cut in. “Lucien, your mother writes to Charles?”

Lucien’s darkening scowl made Cedric laugh.

“Go on, Charles. What does she write to you about?” Godric prodded.

“It is of a private nature.”

“Nothing ever stays private with you, Charles, so you might as well tell us.” Ashton’s lips twisted into the faintest essence of a smile.

Charles scowled. “You want to know? Fine. Lucien’s mother has convinced herself I am the perfect husband for Lysandra.”

“My sister!” Lucien choked out. “God in heaven, man, you had better never reply to those letters or so help me—”

“Easy! Lysandra is not my type, as you well know.” Charles glanced around the table. “Besides, we have our rules, don’t we?”

“Rules?” Emily shook her head, confused.

Ashton looked over at her. “Even the so-called League of Rogues has rules, my dear.”

They had rules? The thought made her laugh.

“Even rogues must draw the line somewhere,” he added.

“And in this case no League member shall seduce a sister of another member,” Lucien said.

Charles nodded. “Rule Eight be exact.”

“I am still wondering you call yourselves the League.” Emily giggled. She’d heard of the name before, of course, whispered between society matrons, often followed by gasps of horror.

Godric grinned wolfishly. “That curious moniker was actually thrust upon us by
The Quizzing Glass Gazette
in the Lady Society column. It regales the
ton
with stories about our exploits, or what they believe we’ve done. They exaggerate quite often, but we found their name to be accurate. We wisely accepted it and now use it, with much pleasure, I might add.”

“It does have a rather charming ring to it,” Emily said.

Ashton turned the conversation back to the events of the day. “So Charles is writing letters. What about you, Cedric?”

“Thought I’d go for a ride.”

Emily straightened up in her chair. Perhaps she could go for a ride before she had to set her final escape plan in motion. One last good memory…

“And what about you, Lucien?”

“I’ve a small matter in London to see to. I should be back by nightfall.”

Emily didn’t miss the glance made towards Godric. She doubted he was aware of it.

“Perhaps I ought to accompany you?” Ashton suggested.

“I wouldn’t mind the company.”

It was as though they were speaking in code. Emily wondered what the two men were up to.

With breakfast over, Emily followed Cedric out of the room, eager to watch him ride. But Godric caught the back of her dress and pulled her to an abrupt halt.

He nuzzled her neck playfully and said, “Now where are you off to?”

Emily sighed, watching Cedric’s retreating back. “I thought I might watch Cedric ride.” Godric wound his arms about her waist from behind. His lips brushed her right ear and he nipped her lobe. She stifled a little moan.

“We could stay here…” Each word hung heavy with the promise of passion.

It was so hard to resist, but the second sigh that escaped her was one of defeat and Godric noticed.

“Everything all right, my dear?” He stroked her chin with the pad of his thumb. The truth of her fears or her escape lay on the tip of her tongue, but she bit it back.

He studied her silently. “Do you really miss riding?”

Emily brightened a little. “I do, oh, I do.”

“I would let you ride…” he paused as her eyes lit up with hope. “If you ride with me.”

“Oh, Godric, thank you!” She threw her arms about his neck and covered him with kisses.

Cedric was just trotting out of the stables when they caught up. The dappled gray mare he rode looked eager to be galloping, as did the rider.

Cedric called down as they walked past. “Shall I wait for you?”

“Could you?” Emily asked.

Godric went inside to fetch his gelding while Emily waited.

Cedric gazed down at her. “Emily, when you return to London, may I introduce you to my sisters? Horatia and Audrey would adore you.”

“I’d like that very much. I know so few people in the
ton
. We have mainly country connections.”

“Not to worry, kitten. My sisters are level-headed creatures for the most part. I think you’d like Horatia especially. She is very much like you.” Cedric grinned as though remembering some private joke. “Audrey…is a bit of scamp. Always in trouble for one thing or another.”

“Do they love the outdoors like you?”

Cedric nodded. “Horatia loves to ride almost as much as I do. Audrey loves fresh air, though she’s not fond of horses. Got bit by a rather nasty tempered pony when she was eight. Hasn’t forgiven the equine genus since, poor dear.”

Emily stroked his mare’s charcoal mane. “My father always said they had a propensity for biting, so I was fortunate never to be subjected to a pony’s temper. Horses though, were a different matter. He had the best pair of thoroughbreds which he taught me to ride.”

“Your father was a smart man.” Cedric reached down to smack the mare’s neck affectionately.

Godric came out that moment, his magnificent black gelding in tow, one hand resting on the horse’s neck, the other threading fingers through the dangling reins.

“Hold him for me, Cedric?” Godric handed him the reins. Godric gripped Emily at the waist and hoisted her up onto the saddle then hauled himself up behind her. He looped an arm about her waist, pulling her back into the cradle of his hips.

They trotted away from the stables, Cedric a few paces ahead. The horses settled into a natural rhythm.

They rode for an hour before Godric decided the chances of them getting caught in the storm were too great. Emily fixed her attention on the sky, where storm clouds still hung. Not a single drop had fallen the night before, but she could taste the thickness of the air, and the delicious clean scent of a thunderstorm teased the air with a hint of danger. Emily did not protest ending their ride. She’d need to be back at the manor soon to see to her preparations.

Charles joined Godric, Cedric and Emily for a light luncheon an hour later, but Emily could barely eat. Her stomach churned fitfully and she said little.

“Are you feeling well?” Godric put the back of his hand to her forehead.

Emily shut her eyes, enjoying the warmth of his hand. This would be the last time he touched her. Pain tore through her heart, rending it in two. She’d remember him like this, gentle and concerned. A tender rogue, hiding his heart from her for fear of being wounded. But it was she who’d suffer most. At least he did not love her, it would be easier for him to accept her leaving.

“You feel a bit cold.” Worry darkened his tone.

“I fear I’m rather under the weather.” It was an opportunity to excuse herself.

Godric started to rise from his chair. “Shall I send for a doctor?”

“No! No, don’t trouble yourself, please. I think I’ll take a nap. That may put me to rights.” Emily rose from her chair, put a hand on Godric’s shoulder and gently forced him back down.

“I’ll come and check on you in a few hours then, darling.” Godric kissed her hand resting on his shoulder. Her heart bled with the knowledge that this was her last kiss. It couldn’t be the last… Not something so inconsequential and chaste as a kiss upon her hand…

Emily bent and captured his mouth. She couldn’t breathe…couldn’t think. There was only this last, eternal and yet ephemeral kiss. It was her last memory, one that would have to last her the rest of a lonely lifetime.

I’m letting you go because I love you and it’s the only way to save you.
She begged silently with all her heart that he would understand. It nearly cleaved her heart in two when he smiled against her mouth and brushed a hand over her cheek as she left.

What would he think when he came to her room and she was gone? Would he wonder why she’d abandoned him? Would her leaving be worse than the abuse Godric suffered at the hands of his father?

Someday he’d understand. She’d find a way to tell him the truth when it was safe to do so. But even then, she doubted he would forgive her. Until that day, she’d slowly die inside from a bleeding heart.

With a strength she hadn’t known she possessed, she raised her chin and departed from the dining room with grace.

Once in her room, she leaned back against the door. Her chest surged as she swallowed silent sobs. Her entire world shrank into that single moment of loss. Her throat closed and she struggled to swallow.

Sinking down the wood panel of the door, Emily curled her legs up beneath her chin, tears sliding down her face. She’d been such a fool to fall in love, but she’d never make this mistake again. Her heart would harden and she’d live on alone without Godric and without love. She had to.

Years from now she’d be somewhere in the world, remembering this final day, this final hour of losing her first and only love. The memory would rush in on her like a thief in the night and leave a raw, aching pain in her chest just as fresh as today. Tears formed salty tracks down her cheeks and carved trails like mighty rivers on stone.

It was the right thing to do. If she left, Blankenship wouldn’t have a reason to harm the others. That was more important than her tears. This resolve strengthened her. She remembered something her father used to say. “Fear is only as strong as the weakness within you.”

Her choice was clear, had always been clear. Deep in her bones, she’s always known she’d have to go at some point. The sooner she could accept it, the sooner she could move on.

Once her eyes had no more tears to shed, she mastered her grief and summoned Libba to her chambers.