Chapter Nineteen

Lucian stared down at his wineglass as he waited for his beautiful wife to return, wondering if his worst fear would be realized. Was Brynn in league with her brother? Was she a thief and a traitor? He had little doubt she’d permitted his seal ring to be used by Sir Grayson, thus abetting Caliban and his cohorts in illicitly making off with the gold shipment. Was she also aiding her brother in smuggling the stolen gold to France?

Bleakness washed over Lucian at the likelihood of her betrayal. Bleakness and fury. He was infuriated at Brynn because of the choice she was forcing him to make. He’d always considered himself an honorable man, but honor didn’t seem particularly important when weighed against the possibility of losing her to prison-or worse, to the gibbet.

He couldn’t allow that to happen. He couldn’t allow Brynn to be imprisoned, especially not when she was carrying his child.

Lucian clenched his teeth. It enraged him to think that she would risk their son or daughter’s future by engaging in treason. It enraged him even more that Brynn would destroy the promise of happiness they had found together.

He had wanted to cherish her, damn her. He’d wanted to love her, to build a future with her, beget a family. He had made mistakes with Brynn, he freely admitted. He’d wed her with no regard for her wishes, seeking to end the emptiness in his life, demanding that she give him a son to fill the gaping hole inside him. But he’d believed-hoped-they had moved past his mistakes.

Brynn herself had filled that dark void within him, Lucian acknowledged. For a few short weeks he had found bliss in her arms. Now, however, all he could feel was an emptiness inside him as vast as all eternity. And a rage that ate at him like poison.

Lucian raked a hand through his dark hair, fully aware of his own madness. He was a goddamned fool to have hoped for more from Brynn. He had blindly fallen for an alluring temptress, a radiant beauty with flaming tresses and an enchanting spirit. He was obsessed with her. She would haunt him till he drew his last breath. But he was done hoping.

Even so, he had to try to protect her. His men had Caldwell House surrounded. If her brother left, for an assignation, Philip Barton had orders to follow at a distance on the possibility that Sir Grayson would lead them to the gold.

Lucian himself would take responsibility for keeping Brynn occupied. He wouldn’t allow her to endanger his unborn child. Much like probing a wound, however, on some dark, desperate, gut-deep level he needed to know how far she would go.

If she was engaged in treason, he had to see the evidence with his own eyes. He intended to let Brynn take the lead tonight-to figuratively give her enough rope to hang herself.

And if she was guilty? Then he would have to deal with her and the shattering aftermath. He would have to save her, no matter what it took. Even if it meant sacrificing his honor.

Lucian squeezed his eyes shut as a savage ache clenched his chest. The gash in his heart was not a mortal wound, but near enough. He could only hope that someday the searing pain would be a little duller. But somehow he doubted it ever would be.

Since her dinner gown had no pockets, Brynn slid the vial of sleeping drops between her breasts, where it rested cold and heavy against her flesh. Then, with grave reluctance, she returned to the dining room.

Lucian was lounging at the table but looked up when she entered. It required every ounce of acting skill she possessed to force a smile and pretend she wasn’t about to betray him.

When he held out his hand, she went to him and let him draw her down onto his lap to hold her loosely.

“I am sorry Grayson had to leave,” she said, keeping her tone carefully neutral.

“I’m not. I am glad to have the evening to ourselves.” The words were warm, and yet his expression remained emotionally cool, Brynn realized.

“Do you want to repair to the drawing room?” she asked.

“I can think of a far more pleasurable way to occupy our time.”

He bent forward and pressed a light kiss on her collarbone, a suggestive act that told her very clearly what he had in mind. Brynn shut her eyes, deeply affected by even this casual contact. But then Lucian’s every touch had always tormented her with desire.

When his lips moved lower, however, over the swell of her breast, she tensed. She couldn’t allow him to undress her here, not when he would discover the vial on her person. Resting her palms on his shoulders, she gently pushed him away. “Not here, Lucian. The servants…”

“Then where?”

She would have to find a way to administer the draught, she knew. Brynn glanced at his wineglass that was nearly empty. “Will you come to my room?”

“I thought you would never ask.” His hands gliding to her waist, he set her on her feet. “Go ahead, love. I will join you shortly.”

Grateful that he’d accepted her invitation so easily, Brynn detoured through the kitchens to fetch more wine. Her brother’s new chef was delighted to tap a new keg and supply her with a full crystal decanter and two goblets.

When she reached her bedchamber, Brynn carefully shut the door behind her and set her tray down on a side table. Then, retrieving the vial from her bosom, she hesitated a long moment, her emotions in turmoil: despair, regret, heartache, fear for Lucian, all churning inside her.

Taking a deep breath, Brynn opened the vial. She had no idea how much to use, but the dose needed to be strong enough to make Lucian sleep for at least a few hours. Murmuring an anguished prayer, she added six drops to one goblet.

It was only when she began to undress that she realized she hadn’t packed a wrapper. Feeling chilled, Brynn donne

d her gown again, shivering as the silk pressed coolly against her nude body.

Tags: Nicole Jordan Notorious Historical
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