Engaging the Enemy (The Wild Randalls 1)

He nodded. It was best that she know the worst of him.

“Oh, Leopold. You have nothing to fear from us. The old duke is gone and so is my husband, if he ever harbored any ill toward you. There is no threat to you and your siblings here now. You never need to fear us.”

“There is a threat to you and the child.” He looked out the window to hide the panic he felt at saying it aloud. Who would want to hurt the child, or hurt Mercy? And to stalk them in such a heinous way made his blood run cold. He would protect them, or die trying. His promise to God.

When Mercy approached, he didn’t turn. She spread her hands over his shoulders and smoothed them over his back. One hand slid down his arm and settled on his fist where he clutched the weapon. “Put the pistol down, Leopold, and get some sleep. No one will find us tonight.”

Although he shouldn’t let his guard down by sleeping, he thought her correct that they were safe for the night. The surprise change of location would confuse her enemy for now, but later, he’d have to stay alert all night and day perhaps. He should rest while he could. He set the weapon on a table. Mercy tugged at his arm to lead him to the bed. She climbed up and then patted the empty space beside her. “There’s plenty of room for all of us.”

Leopold hesitated. Although there was ample of room to sleep beside them, he really should not. Not with the boy present and likely to wake and find him beside his mother. What if he embraced Mercy while he slept? What would the boy think of that? “I’ll sleep in the chair.”

Mercy tilted her head to one side then held out her hand palm up. She crooked her fingers to urge him closer and, like the fool he was, he joined her on the bed. She wriggled around to get comfortable then settled close against his side. Leopold glanced down at her curiously and in the half light spilling into the room. She watched him, a frown marred her features.

Startled by her expression and scrutiny, Leopold lifted his gaze to the ceiling. The more time he spent alone with her in the dark, the more likely she was to recognize him. It surprised him that she hadn’t already. They had been deeply intimate and he’d never acted any differently with her than the first time they had lain together.

Maybe that first night had not been as memorable for her as it had been f

or him. Maybe she’d taken other lovers and the memory of him was dim. His hands tightened into fists. Damn her. He wasn’t used to caring so much for a woman. But Mercy had ruined all his plans to keep a polite and safe distance between them.

She curled onto her side, head pressing against his shoulder, and sighed. “This is how it should be. Just us.”

Mercy didn’t say another word, and Leopold couldn’t help but be grateful because this thing between them, his growing possessiveness for the one woman he should not want, terrified him. Her breathing evened out in sleep and he stared at the ceiling. He didn’t want to need her like this. If it were possible to cure himself of his infatuation, he would.

~ * ~

Mercy raised her head from Leopold’s chest as the room lightened with the approaching dawn. Despite the poor surroundings, she’d slept deeply, content to lie beside her lover and son. With Leopold here, Mercy didn’t fear for her safely, or for Edwin’s. He would never harm her child and she was proud she’d seen his character long before taking him into her confidence.

She eased down to the foot of the bed and climbed off carefully so as not to wake Edwin. While she drew on her wrapper, she glanced between her sleeping lover and son. She stifled a laugh. How could the pair sleep so completely perfect in arrangement, right down to the way their dark hair curled over their ears?

She stood at the foot of the bed to study their pose. One foot tucked against the other leg to form a triangle between, one hand over their stomach, the other open and relaxed. They could be twins, if two decades or more didn’t separate their ages. Or they could be father and son.

Mercy’s breath caught in her throat as the idea caught hold.

Although she had originally dismissed the notion as a foolish fancy, her son did share more than a passing resemblance to Leopold Randall. Edwin might share her green eyes, but his hair color was dark, a shade closer to Leopold’s.

Her gaze sharpened on her son’s hands.

They were not similar to Mercy’s long, slender fingers. The tips were blunt, the nails square. She had forgotten the precise shape of her husband’s hands, but as she stared at Leopold Randall, she saw more similarities to worry her.

Had the old duke sent this man, a member of his own family, to her bed?

She stumbled into a chair. What was it Leopold had told her? He’d said he hadn’t been here at the abbey for years. Not since the old duke threatened his family with harm unless he did him a service. Leopold had not been comfortable, at first, in her presence and he’d never fully explained what that service was.

She stared at him. She had been forced to share her bed with a strange man when her husband’s failing health had restricted his ability to bed her and bring about a pregnancy. Had she finally found the man who had shattered her perfect world during one long night of frantic bliss?

Then there was the troubling matter of the sudden attraction between them that had caught her unprepared. She had never behaved like this before; pursuing a man who did his best to keep a respectful distance. She had attributed her fascination to Leopold’s reticence. Mercy had always liked a challenge. She had wanted to learn everything about this man before the chance slipped away. Had she unconsciously recognized him when they had met again?

That utter bounder!

Mercy paced the room as anger and humiliation washed over her. He must think it quite a joke to slip into her bed once more. What kind of man was he to play with her affections this way? She had fallen in love with that stranger. One night. One night of tender loving that had destroyed the fragile bond between her and her husband.

Her husband had not cared for her outrage at the old duke’s plan. He had not cared that she would be bedded by another man when she’d confronted him before the deed had been done. He’d told her without an ounce of regret that she wouldn’t enjoy the experience but that Romsey must have its heir.

Mercy sat with a thump, ignoring the cloud of dust billowing up from the old cushion.

Edwin had been utterly wrong about that night.

The man sent to bed her had been sweet, and thorough, and more loving than her own husband had been on his best day. He had not done anything to her that she had objected to and when asked for more, he had tenderly swept her away. When her husband had come to her bed the following night, she had not wanted him to come again. Edwin had been cold, and determined to complete the deed without her participation.