Wicked Designs (The League of Rogues) (37 page)

“Emily,” he whispered against her neck.

“Yes?”

“I’m not like my father. I have his temper, but I am not like him.”

“Godric. When you were angry you made love to me. That doesn’t make you like your father.” Emily’s eyes twinkled as she ran a fingertip down his open shirt, skimming his bare chest. Godric groaned, wishing that fingertip would keep going down.

“Can we talk about Jonathan?”

“My brother? Wish I could kill him. Can’t.” He moaned. “He’s a St. Laurent.” Godric’s words scattered apart as he struggled to fight his need for Emily. She needed to rest, not make love.

“He’s a lot like you.”

“Oh? In what way?” Godric’s hand moved around to her back, caressing her underneath the velvet robe.

“He’s a stubborn, green-eyed rogue who assumes every woman secretly wants him and just needs to be convinced of it.” She giggled and twisted her body so that she lay on her back.

A smile escaped his lips and he bent down to kiss Emily again. “You’re right, the devil does sound like me.”

“You need to rest.”

“So do you, darling.” He settled her deeper into his embrace.

They were both quiet for a long moment. Godric drew in a deep breath. “Promise me you’ll be here when I wake up.” He brushed a hair from her face. “I know you will, but I need to hear it.” Emily groggily looked at him, her brow crinkling in an adorable way.

“I promise I will be here. Godric, I’m so sorry I left. I can’t image how it must have hurt you.” She ran a fingertip along his jaw, tracing his face.

He leaned back and ran a hand over his eyes in an attempt to erase the memories. “I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. I thought I was dying, Emily. Christ, you have no idea what that’s like.” His eyes were those of a boy, one who’d seen years of abuse. “I swore that, after my father, no one would ever have the power to hurt me.”

“When I realized I had to leave…I came back to my room and collapsed.” Emily fought to control her voice. “I wanted nothing more than to run back down to the dining room and into your arms. But I had to protect you. I would do anything to protect you.” She leaned up to brush a kiss on his brow before settling back down, resting her head on his chest. “I will be here tomorrow morning. I promise.”

Relief filled his lungs. She was his world, his everything.

“Goodnight, Godric.” Emily’s voice was sleepy and soft. The intimacy of this moment was perfect. Life could have stolen everything else from him, but as long as he had Emily, he could survive.

“Goodnight, darling.” He fell asleep with his lips pressed into her hair. Guilt still lingered, but Emily—angelic, loving Emily—had erased so much self-loathing.

How had lived without her for all these years?

Chapter Seventeen

Ashton woke the next morning with a horrible crick in his neck. He had fallen asleep in a chair outside Godric’s door. He yawned and rubbed the tight muscles on the back of his neck. What a night.

Ashton dared to peek into Godric’s room and found his friend cuddled up with Emily as though the two would never part again.

He shut the door and returned to his chair.
Godric, you will marry her. There’s no other way to keep her safe and yourself sane.

No one had woken him to change the guard as scheduled. Rather than let anger rise up in him, he merely smiled.

How strange it all was that an act of abduction born of Godric’s wounded pride would end up like this? With Godric hopelessly smitten by a singularly unique young lady every bit his equal.

Simkins came up the stairs carrying a tea tray, which meant he must have wanted to have a private word with Ashton without the other servants overhearing.

“Would you care for a cup of tea, Lord Lennox?” Simkins asked.

“Yes, thank you.” He took the offered cup of steaming tea. “What hour is it, Simkins?”

“It is a little past nine in the morning.”

Ashton ran a hand along his chin where pale two day stubble already shadowed his jaw. “Nine, you say? Lord… We’ve slept too long.” He took a sip of tea. “Is anyone else awake?”

Simkins smiled. “No, my lord, you are the first. The entire house is quite exhausted from the previous day’s events. I let the staff sleep in until eight-thirty this morning. I hope His Grace won’t mind.”

Ashton flicked his head towards the closed bedroom door. “I’m sure he won’t. He has other things to concern himself with at the moment.”

The butler grew serious. “May I speak with you, my lord? I have a favor to ask.”

“Name it,” Ashton said, without hesitation.

“Much has occurred these past few days. His Grace has endured many things.” Simkins kept his voice low. “Stability is needed in his life.”

“Stability?” Ashton took another sip. The hot liquid felt good on his throat. “I suppose you have a suggestion?”

“I hope—that is to say, I wish—for you to suggest to His Grace that he should do the right thing by Miss Parr and marry her. It wouldn’t do for me to make such a suggestion.”

“Because you had to give notice over the matter of the pistol.”

“Oh no, my lord. His Grace forbade me from leaving his employment until I had paid for the hideous vase I broke. Then proceeded to drink so much he forgot I had ever offered my resignation in the first place. No, though I did what I could to tend to His Grace’s needs growing up, I’m afraid when it comes to matters of the heart my instruction was quite lacking. You are the better choice.”

He put his cup down. “Let me ask you something, Simkins. Why do
you
think he should marry her?”

Simkins stood erect and regal, still holding the tray. “I have never seen His Grace so concerned about another soul in his entire life, except perhaps for you and your friends. But that it is a love he knows and understands. Comradery, if you will. With Miss Parr, he may not recognize that his passions are fueled by a deeper yearning. Perhaps you can help him see that.”

The butler’s words, the weight of importance he’d placed on his duties to Godric and the St. Laurent family, moved Ashton deeply.

“Rest easy, Simkins. I quite agree with you. I’ll speak to the others and we will raise the matter with him.”

“Thank you, my lord. It comforts me to know he has chosen well in his friends.” Simkins bowed his head and retreated down the stairs with his tea tray.

Ashton finished his tea in the quiet silence of the empty hallway, contemplating their other problem. The threat of Blankenship had never left his mind. It was unwise to remain at Godric’s estate while Blankenship plotted Emily’s capture.

The man was more foolhardy than Ashton could believe. Had he actually hired thugs to attack the duke’s estate? It had to be a bluff, but Blankenship was capable of almost anything else. He had destroyed more than one rival in a completely legal manner through financial disasters. Yet those had been over issues of money. With a woman involved, Ashton couldn’t help but fear Blankenship would resort to more violent measures. Well, if that was the case, Ashton would not underestimate him.

Perhaps the best solution was to play a game of thimblerig with Emily in London. They could move her from residence to residence, since the League members owned several. It would be impossible for Blankenship to find her.

In the meantime they needed to convince Godric that he ought to marry Emily. If he did, Blankenship would have no claim to her. Emily would be infinitely safer and a scandalous kidnapping would become a romantic elopement in the eyes of society. A door opened down the hall and a bleary-eyed Cedric came out, shirt and breeches wrinkled as though he’d slept in them. He yawned and then caught sight of Ashton.

“How go the sentinel duties?”

Ashton chuckled. “Intolerably dull. I had expected much more entertainment, but the love birds haven’t moved an inch. Godric is finally getting some rest, though.”

Cedric heaved a sigh. “Thank God for that.”

“Cedric, are your sisters at your house in London?”

“Yes, they’ve been there for two weeks.” Cedric eyed Ashton. “Why?”

“Would you mind if we brought Emily to London and hid her in your house? If your sisters are present they might make for a confusing scene if Blankenship’s men end up looking there.”

Cedric’s brown eyes narrowed. “Are you asking me to use my sisters as bait?”

Ashton held up his hands. “No! But I think that Blankenship won’t expect us to take Emily to London. She might escape notice there. Meanwhile, we will spread ourselves out into the other residences about London and scatter Blankenship’s men until—” Ashton paused here, hesitant to reveal his plans fully.

“Until?”

“Until we can convince Godric to marry Emily.”

Cedric was quiet for a long moment. “You think he will?”

“I think he must. He cares about her to the point of self-destruction. She loves him. There can be no other answer.”

Cedric frowned. “He’s the one who always insisted that matrimony was folly. What if he doesn’t agree?”

Ashton raised his chin. “Then he is a fool. But Emily must be protected. If Godric won’t marry her, then I shall. She’ll be free to live and love as she chooses, as will I. It is not an uncommon arrangement, so long as both parties use discretion. But she needs the protection of marriage.” He couldn’t forget the greed in Blankenship’s eyes, the monstrous coldness that overtook his nature when he’d searched room by room for the girl. “Otherwise, Blankenship will hound her steps until the day she dies.”

“You can throw my name onto the list of marriage options. We can let her choose between us, should Godric refuse.”

This surprised Ashton. He thought he would be the only one willing to endure matrimony for Emily, but it appeared he’d been mistaken. “And what of Anne Chessley? If Emily chooses you, you could never make Anne a mistress, not when you’ve married her friend.”

Cedric’s face transformed into such a state of despair that Ashton set his cup aside and rose from his chair in concern.

“Perhaps not, but I would give Anne up, if Emily chose me. For my sins in this affair, I owe her. I’d do everything in my power to protect her.”

“Let us hope that Emily won’t need to choose anyone besides Godric.”

Godric heard every word from behind the door. He’d been content to let Emily stay nestled up against him, but at the sound of Simkins’s voice, he’d forced himself up. He paused at the door and absorbed the conversation between his butler and later his friends, moved by their views and touched by the sincerity of their wishes.

However their offers hadn’t been necessary. Godric had decided last night he’d marry Emily. As soon as they reached London, he’d start immediately on wedding plans. But, to maintain Emily’s safety, the ceremony would have to be hasty.

With an excited smile, he splashed his face at the washbasin before he changed for breakfast.

He adjusted his cravat in the mirror when Emily stirred. He moved to the bed, leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Stay in bed awhile, darling. I’m just going down to breakfast.”

She sighed, shifted under the covers and drifted back to sleep.

For a long moment, he simply enjoyed the sight of her. Soon they’d have a lifetime to share, and for the first time in Godric’s life, he looked forward to the idea of one woman till death did he part.

And, to think, if Albert Parr hadn’t been of such low moral fiber, Godric would never have met Emily, never known her the way he did now.

On an irresistible impulse he bent down to kiss Emily’s lips. Her mouth opened sleepily beneath his and he savored the sweetness. An eternity would not be enough time. He would always yearn for her, all of her, body and soul.

The League of Rogues convened in the dining room that morning to discuss the upcoming London trip while Emily slept.

Godric sipped his coffee. “Once we reach London…” he paused, enjoying the strained looks of his companions. “I have decided that Emily and I shall be married.”

The dining room was silent for several long seconds before Ashton and Cedric exhaled in obvious relief.

“I was worried I would have to twist your arm to convince you to marry. I will be happy to procure a marriage license for you.”

Godric nodded. “Yes. See to it we have everything necessary to arrange a quick ceremony.” He turned to the marquess. “Lucien, it’s up to you to lead Blankenship down a false trail, lest he try to interfere.”

Lucien grinned.

Charles scooted forward in his seat. “And me?”

“You’ll be with Cedric, as part of Emily’s protection. Never let her out of your sight, unless one of us is with her.”

Charles had always viewed himself as a protective knight, and now he would play the part.

Cedric tossed a piece of crust to Penelope, who sat at his heels, tail swishing back and forth. “You know, Godric, you could just whisk Emily away to Gretna Green. It would save you the trouble of having to confront Parr. For all we know he might warn Blankenship of your plans.”

Godric frowned. That was not the wedding she deserved. He didn’t want his future duchess marked by further scandal. No. He would meet and speak with Parr, and get the wretched man to accompany him to the church for the marriage ceremony. Bound and gagged if need be.

“I am the Duke of Essex and I will not run off with my tail between my legs. We will avoid Blankenship if possible, and if we cannot, he will be dealt with.”