Page 3 of Captured by the Earl (The Secret Crusaders #2)

CHAPTER 3

L ondon Society News:

What happened between Lord Peyton and Lady Emma?

That is the question the ton has been asking ever since Lord Peyton arrived back from his long trip abroad. Spectators hoped to see him join his besotted betrothed, yet Lady Emma was nowhere to be found. Then Lord Peyton was nowhere to be found.

Then neither of them were anywhere to be found. I’m not suggesting anything untoward, of course, yet truly, it was stunning. So, my question to readers is:

What happened?

“One move, and your next breath will be your last.” Philip carved the shadows with his sword, holding the edge against the unseen predator. He could not see the lurker in the darkness, yet unflappable instincts revealed the threatening presence.

“It is generally considered bad form to threaten one’s friends.”

Philip let out a slow breath. With a silent curse, he retracted and sheathed the sword. “It is also considered bad form to surprise a friend as he is walking through a deserted park.”

“I asked you to meet me here.”

“Meet, not creep upon.”

Despite the words, Philip relaxed at the muscular man who emerged from the shadows. Tall and broad with dark hair and piercing green eyes, Alexander Livingston, Earl of Everly, was Lady Priscilla’s brother and a master of deductive arts. Philip inclined his head. “It’s good to see you.”

“And you as well.” Alexander nodded. “Good job on the last assignment. Things seemed… uncertain for a little while.”

Uncertain was putting it mildly. He’d almost seen his end. Twice.

“You’ve been rather busy in the short time you’ve been back.” Alexander took a silent step next to him. Night animals rustled through the trees, their sounds joining the whisper of the wind. “A hunt through the gardens, a scandalous boat ride and a would-be bride jumping into the brush. I’m surprised you allowed such a thing.”

Philip frowned. The foul stench of animal droppings permeated the air as they delved close to the streets. Sad to say he missed even that reminder of home. “Had I any inkling Lady Emma would take such a risk, I would have been more careful. I will not be caught unaware again.”

The memory of Emma jumping over the murky lake reignited fear, far greater than the numerous times his own life had been in danger. A memory flashed, of another woman, another lake, another ending . With a shake of his head, he pulled himself from the past. He could have easily followed Emma, yet he needed time to consider how to handle his would-be bride. “I plan on keeping much closer watch on her in the future.”

Alexander nodded his approval.

Philip eyed him carefully. “Did you know I’ve been betrothed these last few months?”

Alexander’s expression gave away nothing. “I was aware fair Lady Emma implied you were betrothed.”

Philip folded his arms across his chest. “All these months, and you didn’t mention it to me?”

Alexander raised an eyebrow. “One assumes a groom is aware of his upcoming nuptials. On some matters, it is best not to interfere.”

“You interfere plenty.” He grimaced. “I will be attending to the matter posthaste.”

“I have no doubt.” The slightest glimmer of amusement flashed in Alexander’s eyes before he sobered. “I’m here for a different reason. I need you.”

Philip cocked his head to the side. “So soon? I thought perhaps I’d have a fortnight off. A day at least.”

“Unfortunately, the criminals are not as understanding of your schedule as one would hope.”

“Indeed.”

“Are you familiar with Lord Trenton?”

Philip nodded. “Large chap with a thick mustache and balding head? Always with a rather smarmy grin?”

“Precisely.” Alexander rubbed his hands together. “There’s talk of some rather unsavory business. He does not advertise it to the ton, but he is heavily involved with several criminal entities. A few of his associates have disappeared recently.”

The word disappeared was undoubtedly a metaphor for something far more sinister. “What do you need me to do?”

“Find out what you can. His position makes any investigation difficult, yet some of the associates were not so lowborn themselves. If matters escalate further, we could have a disaster on our hands.”

No doubt.

“Be careful.” Alexander warned. “It’s far more difficult navigating under the watchful eyes of the ton than in a foreign country. People might notice the Earl of Peyton not acting like… well, the Earl of Peyton.”

“It won’t be a problem.” Philip gave him a carefree smile. “After all, the Earl of Peyton worries about nothing.”

“And that’s how it must remain.”

“Of course. No one sees the true me.”

Yet Emma had mentioned he’d changed. Did she realize he’d always been different?

“How fares your sister?”

Philip cocked his head to the side. “Catherine? Enjoying the season a little too much for a brother’s liking. She spends an astonishing amount of time with your sister’s sewing guild.”

Alexander frowned. “Ahh, yes, The Distinguished Ladies of Purpose. Emma is also a member, I understand.”

“She is.” Philip looked into unrevealing eyes. “You do not approve of a sewing guild?”

“If I still made the decisions for Priscilla…” Alexander stopped, pursed his lips. “Excuse me. Even if my younger sister is married, I will always act the protective older brother.”

The explanation did little to explain a sewing guild’s offense. Philip filed it away for further investigation. “Watching the rakes chase my sister has been trying, although not nearly as much as handling the eligible lords who may actually win her.”

“She has not yet accepted an offer?”

“No, but she has several suitors. She seems particularly set on Lord Fulton.”

Alexander’s frown deepened. “Are you certain he would be fitting for a strong woman like your sister? She’ll wrap him around her little gloved finger.”

It was true. Fulton was not the man he imagined his sister pursuing, yet he had promised Catherine the freedom to choose as long as the courter was suitable. “His credentials are excellent, and he’s not involved in any scandals. Beyond that, I am allowing her to make her own choice.”

“I am simply surprised your sister would want such a timid man.” Alexander’s expression was casual, yet a strange gleam belied it. He stared into space for a moment, then looked back to the street. “I will take my leave. Message me if you need anything.”

With a quick nod, the spymaster slipped through a hedge and disappeared into the night. Perhaps he was right about Catherine. Could she possibly have a hidden motive for choosing Fulton?

At the memory of hidden motives, a visage of Emma surfaced, and something powerful surged through him. She, too, had secrets, motivations behind the continuation of a false betrothal. He needed to investigate, uncover all the motives behind her behavior. He would not allow her to run away.

There was far more to her than apparent.

A chill roused her.

Even in the half-woken space on the edge of dream and reality, something was amiss, a disruption in the stillness of the night. Emma always kept her windows shut tight against the chill, yet now the room was cool, cold even. She fluttered her eyes just a sliver, yet only dark shadows greeted her, broken by the low amber glow of the fire.

Then, the curtains shifted.

The window was open .

Her breath hitched, silently, thankfully, as the window that had been shut tight by no less than two latches now shook lightly in the breeze. Keeping her breathing even, her eyes opened just a wedge, she scanned the room.

That’s when she saw him.

He was large, no huge, as he hovered near the window he had undoubtedly pried open. Dressed in all black, he blended into the murkiness behind him. He was tall and muscular, well-built and broad-shouldered, yet exact features were hidden.

Ever-so-slowly she trailed her fingers along the petal soft sheet, reaching for the iron pipe she kept hidden. Her heart thundered so loud, surely he heard it as he stepped closer… closer… closer…

She lunged. Swung. Missed.

She connected with the air, the force driving her forward like an out-of-control carriage. Her balance reeled, as the intruder moved so quickly, he was like a blur. Something clamped her wrist, loosening her grip. The pipe fell to the floor with a clang. She dove for it.

She never made it.

Her feet left the ground as she was hefted over a hard and powerful shoulder, held tightly against an expansive chest. Muscular arms snaked around her, strong and unyielding, as he carried her with commanding ease. She struggled, yet it was like fighting an iron warrior. Suddenly, the upside-down world was in motion again, and she descended onto the softness of her mattress. A giant of a man loomed over her, powerful, imposing, all-commanding. She opened her mouth to scream.

“Emma, hush! It’s Peyton.”

She froze.

Peyton?

She heaved a deep breath of amber-scented air as familiar features etched in the darkness, exterminating her fear, even as the shock remained. Then an entirely different, and altogether unexpected, feeling arose.

She was lying on her bed.

The Earl of Peyton was looming over her.

Oh. My.

“If I let go, will you stay quiet?”

She gave a curt nod. He hesitated once more, then slowly loosened his hold.

“What are you doing?” she hissed. “Do you realize where you are?”

It had been the wrong thing to say. His fiery gaze took her in, her unbound hair, the thin, gauzy gown that revealed more than it hid. With every breath, her chest brushed against his, as his heat surrounded her.

There was no chill now.

“I know exactly where I am,” he murmured.

Could he see her blush in the fire’s light? She cleared her throat, jerked back her arms. For the briefest of instances, he didn’t let go. Then he released her, and stood up.

The chill returned full force. She grasped the covers and brought them up to her neck, scooting back into a sitting position.

“We need to talk.”

She gaped at him. “In the middle of the night? We’re alone in my room!”

“No one will come as long as we’re quiet. It will give us uninterrupted time to talk. The best part is…” He leaned closer. “You can’t escape.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I can escape anytime I wish. I proved that this afternoon.”

Challenge flashed in his eyes. The Peyton the ton knew was affable, calm, carefree. This man was forged of something far stronger.

“Perhaps I’m not the only one hiding.” She sat up taller. “Who are you?”

Something indistinguishable flashed in his eyes.

“You know who I am.” He brushed invisible dust off his shirt. “I simply wish to remedy a situation not of my making.”

She would wager a year of pin money that was not entirely true. Yet for now, their goals converged. “All right. I will share my plan for undoing the betrothal.”

“First we will discuss your penchant for undertaking dangerous activities. It stops now.” His eyes blazed in the moonlight.

She parted her lips. “I’m sorry I ran away from you. And jumped from a rickety boat. And, well, pretended to be married to you for three months. However, you were the one who kidnapped me!”

He did not apologize. “I’m not angry about the betrothal. Bewildered, yes, but not angry. I’m furious you risked your life. This afternoon, you could’ve drowned.”

She turned away from his piercing gaze. “Everything turned out all right.”

“By fortune’s grace.” His fierce expression didn’t waver. “What if you had fallen into the water? What if I couldn’t save you?”

Peyton had never seemed so passionate, or so angry. And perhaps if she was honest with herself, his argument held some validity. “I’m sorry,” she said honestly. “And I appreciate your concern.”

“You will promise never to do anything like that again.”

“Never jump out of a rickety boat onto a thorny thicket?” She allowed a small smile. “It was so fun, I planned on repeating it every other Tuesday.”

“Emma.”

She sighed. “I will make every effort to avoid thorny thickets. And–” She cocked her head to the side. “Men who kidnap me for nefarious purposes.”

He stood taller. “I did not kidnap you for a nefarious purpose.”

“Now you’re claiming you didn’t kidnap me?”

“Of course I kidnapped you. Yet there was nothing nefarious about it.” Once more, he was in complete control. “I appreciate you not jumping off any more boats, yet I’d have your promise to avoid other dangers. I am surprised, and dismayed, your chaperones allow it.”

She pursed her lips. Once she never would have gotten away with such antics. Her mother had watched her with hawkish precision the year she launched and with reasonable meticulousness the next. Yet she was decidedly less cautious now, especially now that she thought her betrothed to Peyton.

However, that was no business of Peyton’s. “You do not dictate what I can and cannot do.”

“When your decisions put you in danger, I will intercede.”

“Who are you to command me?” She jumped up, letting the cover fall to the floor as she stood in a flurry of power. She stepped to him, notched up her chin and looked directly into his…

Chest.

Way to be intimidating.

How had she never noticed the man was built like a warrior? His eyes flashed in challenge, his muscles flexing under the taut black shirt. It attested to his raw power, pure strength. Now his eyes were riveted on her.

A shudder raced through her, elicited not by anger or indignation, but something far more elemental. Desire, as unexpected as it was powerful, surged. Peyton was tall and dominant and so very, very handsome. Once she had imagined a match between the two of them, yet she had fought long and hard to banish such feelings. Now emotions long thought forgotten resurfaced.

When had the room gotten so hot? Somehow Peyton transformed the night’s coolness into pure sweltering heat. Her heart quickened, and her breathing, too, as unfamiliar sensations streaked through her body. Something urged her to press forward, to touch the forbidden.

He stepped forward, taking up her entire vision. “What are you thinking?”

Was he as hard as he looked?

She heaved in a breath thick with his aroma. She should flee, or demand he leave, yet she stood frozen, even as he stepped closer and closer until he towered over her. She didn’t want to run. She wanted closer.

“Nothing,” she lied.

His eyes flashed. “Tell me, Lady Emma, do you know how it feels to be truly betrothed?”

She licked lips as dry as the dessert.

“For some it is merely a business arrangement, an agreement between two families, yet for others it is more.” His voice cast a sensual web, surrounding her body and stealing her breath. “Other times, people simply connect.”

Her heart fluttered in her chest. In the past, he affected her with a mere glance. Now speared with his total focus, she couldn’t look away.

“Tell me the truth. Why did you claim we were betrothed?”

She fought for composure, holding tight to secrets that weren’t hers to share. When she spoke her voice emerged low, husky. “It was a mistake.”

He brushed her cheek with the pads of his fingers. “Perhaps at first, yet not for three months. Tell me, what do you truly want?”

Excuses, untruths and misdirection danced on her lips, lies with the power to save her. Yet the words wouldn’t form. Instead, a single word emerged, “You.”

His nostrils flared as a slow predatory smile curved his lips. “Of course, my lady.” Then he leaned down and…

Kissed her.

Bold, powerful, all-consuming. He was pure heat in the cool night. He wrapped solid arms around her, bringing her flush against his chest. His heart beat under a body hard as rock, velvet-coated muscles betraying the strength he hid. Encircled by desire, prompted by rebellion, she pressed closer, shivering as her unbound breasts brushed against his hardness.

Her body grew ripe with sensation. Needs blossomed in unfamiliar places as he caressed her lips, stealing her breath until she could do nothing but pant. He caressed, soothed, tasted . She grew achy and swollen, hot and moist. She moaned in surrender.

Then he ended it.

She stumbled back and would have fallen, had he not reached out and supported her. She gazed into eyes dilated with passion, resisting the urge to push closer, to do more, so much more. The kiss had been wonderful and glorious, and yet not nearly enough.

“That was…” she murmured.

Delicious.

Fantastic.

Worth repeating. Immediately.

But they couldn’t repeat it. Not now. Not ever. Every moment spent in his presence raised intolerable risk. And despite her bout with insanity by accepting the kiss, she would settle for no less than a love match. Lord Peyton wanted a suitable bride. She wanted… more.

Unfortunately, right now she wanted another kiss. Or two. Or fifty-five thousand.

She had to fix this. She straightened and smiled. “That was quite average.”

His eyes widened in surprise, yet a moment later, challenge replaced it. “Average, was it?”

“Indeed.”

“I would disagree with that appraisal.”

“You are clearly wrong.”

“Would you like to kiss again to settle our disagreement?”

“I don’t see why not.”

This time, she pressed her lips to his. He immediately took control, dominant and delicious. It was scandal wrapped in pure pleasure and yet oh-so-right. When he ended it, flushed heat spread through her body, curling her insides.

She looked at him. “That was quite aver–”

He kissed her again.

When they broke apart next, she forced herself back. She couldn’t keep kissing him, not if she wanted to retain her control, her independence and perhaps even her sanity. She couldn’t – wouldn’t – succumb to the masterful spell he was weaving.

He was far more dangerous than the world realized.

“We must stop this at once. The kiss… er, kisses were entirely wrong. Undoubtedly, they were simply a product of today’s taxing occurrences.”

She steeled herself. She wasn’t a wilting wallflower. She was a full member of the Distinguished Ladies of Purpose. She influenced votes, helped scores of disadvantaged women and aided the poor. He may be bigger – a lot bigger – but she was just as powerful on the inside.

He lifted an eyebrow, and she blushed.

“Would you like to test tha–”

“No!”

He gave a wolfish grin. “Afraid you won’t be able to help yourself?”

“I refuse to answer that question.”

His lips twitched.

She forged ahead. “We must get back to the business at hand.”

He sobered, straightened. And the world once more turned dangerous. “As I said, what you do now concerns me.” He stepped closer. “If you put yourself in peril, I will stop it.”

“And I will stop you.”

“We shall see about that.” A mysterious light tinted his eyes. “Remember, you are my betrothed. That gives me certain rights.”

Her cheeks heated. “You and I both know we are not actually betrothed. As I said, I will end it as soon as possible. Your return actually facilitates that. We will simply say that after spending time together, we do not suit.”

“And what reason will you give them for the abrupt dismissal?”

She smiled. “I’ll tell them you are a domineering tyrant.”

“What happens if I actually am?”

Her smile faded. Who was this man who thought he ruled her? He was certainly not the Earl of Peyton the world knew. “There’s no reason to continue the facade. I’ll hint at problems tomorrow, and by the end of the week, we’ll be fully separated with no scandal and no repercussions. Then we’ll move on to other suitors.”

He frowned. “You mentioned another suitor earlier. Tell me, what devious lord would scheme to abscond with another man’s betrothed?”

“He would do no such thing!” she immediately protested. “He is a gentleman.”

“So he does not mind that his intended is with another man?”

She colored. “Actually, if you must know, we have not discussed such matters.”

“I see.”

She clenched her fists. “He is not the sort to pursue a woman who is taken, which, as we both know, I am not. However, I am certain we would suit by the basis of our personalities, characteristics, and interests. He can give me what I desire.”

“I’m afraid your intended will be disappointed.”

Danger whispered through the air. “I don’t understand. In a matter of days, the betrothal will be over.”

“You and I are far from over.” He pierced her with an unfathomable gaze. “The betrothal continues.”