Guarding the Countess: (The Scandal Sheet Series Book 5) Read online

  “Lady Walridge,” he said softly. She didn’t respond. Tears flowed down her dirty cheeks. “Lady Walridge,” he repeated, and still nothing.

  “Naomi,” he tried, using her Christian name, which he had found out during his cursory investigation after she had requested a meeting.

  That seemed to wake her from her fog of terror, and she focused on him. “Yes?”

  “Are you injured?” he asked.

  She shook her head at first, then worried her lip. “My knees hurt.”

  He caught his breath. He’d hit her with all his weight in an effort to prevent her from being shot. When she slammed into the ground, he had no doubt it had hurt.

  “May I look?” he asked.

  She stiffened and color entered her cheeks. It actually gave him a little hope to see it. The return of modesty meant she wasn’t utterly lost to terror.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  He caught the now-dirty hem of her gown and gently slid it up. He was trying to focus on examination, but it was difficult when, beneath her black mourning gown, the woman was wearing red sheer stockings that covered truly lovely legs. He brushed her calf as he folded her skirt up to her knee, and her breath hitched.

  Suddenly the room felt very small, and he looked up at her to find her pupils were dilated and her lips slightly parted. Focus. He had to focus. This woman had been shot at not five minutes before. He couldn’t let himself notice that her skin smelled like vanilla. That her startling green eyes were the same color as fine emeralds.

  He forced his gaze back down as he lifted her skirt above her knees. Desire fled as he looked at the torn stockings and scraped skin on the shapely knees and equally lovely thighs that were just above them.

  The door behind them opened, and he started as he looked back to find Everett entering the room. He stopped at the scene before him and his gaze flitted first over Marcus, then over Naomi. His jaw set and his eyes lit with an expression Marcus knew very well.

  One that did nothing to temper the desire that now increased in his body.

  Naomi’s hands fluttered down, catching the hem of her gown as she tried to force it over her legs. As she did so, Everett closed the door and came forward.

  “Did that happen when you hit the ground?” he asked, his tone gentle.

  She seemed confused at the shift in his attitude toward her. Her hands stilled as she glanced up at him. “Y-yes. Did you…did you find the person who shot at me?”

  Everett’s face fell and Marcus got up. “No?”

  Everett scowled. “They were gone before I reached the park. There were only ladies on their midday stroll. No suspects.”

  Naomi made a soft sound in the back of her throat and dipped her head as she settled her hands over her scraped knees. Her shoulders shook as she stared at the floor with the same empty expression of fear that she’d had on her face when Marcus first brought her back inside.

  It hurt his heart to see it. To know what that kind of terror felt like. To know how empty and lonely it could be.

  “This changes everything,” Everett said softly.

  Marcus returned his attention to his friend and nodded. “I agree. She could be the target. Were the other murders failed attempts?”

  “What?” she asked, jumping up to look at them. Her green eyes were wide. “What are you saying?”

  “If death has followed you for several years, my lady,” Everett said, as straightforward as ever, “there is a possibility that you have been its target all along. Whoever is responsible for the death of your latest husband may have actually been trying to get to you. And this attempt is the escalation.”

  She covered her mouth with her hands and staggered. Marcus watched as Everett stepped forward and caught her elbow, drawing her a little closer and steadying her as she stared up at him.

  “The target…me? Not my husbands?”

  Everett nodded slowly. “Possibly.”

  “Oh God, then…then it would be my fault. My—my fault that they’re dead.” Marcus watched as her shoulders began to shake. She seemed truly devastated by the idea that her husbands had potentially died because of her. Any remaining suspicions he had toward her softened at that genuine response.

  “Don’t be foolish,” Everett responded. His voice was gruff, but his gaze soft. Still she stiffened at the inartful words. She drew a few breaths.

  “What do I do?” she asked at last, her voice a little less shaky as she slowly withdrew her elbow from his grip and took a step away. “Go home?”

  Marcus moved forward. “Absolutely not. If someone was willing to shoot at you in broad daylight from a park, they are not to be trifled with. No, my lady, you must go someplace safe. Someplace where Lord Glenmarrow and I can personally protect you while we figure out what the hell is going on here and who is responsible for it all.”

  Everett watched as Marcus took a long drink of scotch before handing the glass over to him. He slugged the remainder before he said, “Are you certain this is a good idea?”

  Marcus glanced at the door where Lady Walridge had departed with a servant a moment ago to have her scrapes attended to. Everett knew the look on his face. He’d seen it many times before, when Marcus wanted something. Someone.

  Even someone he shouldn’t.

  That would complicate things, at the very least. To have him wanting her. Not that Everett blamed his friend. When he’d come in to find Marcus kneeling between her knees, her auburn hair half-down around her gorgeous face, the two of them staring at each other with intent that couldn’t be misread…

  Well, he’d wanted something, too. Wanted to lock the door, step up and join them.

  Foolhardy an idea as that was, given the circumstances.

  “Naomi needs our help,” Marcus said.

  Everett tilted his head. “Naomi, is it?”

  “I think a lady becomes Naomi when she is shot at on my drive, yes,” Marcus said, his annoyance clear. “Don’t start.”

  Everett folded his arms. “Calling her Naomi doesn’t have anything to do with where we’ve seen the lady before.”

  Marcus glared at him. “You recognized her too?”

  “She’s the kind of woman who is hard to forget. The Donville Masquerade is harder to forget.”

  “She was with the latest husband,” Marcus said, shifting a bit. He wasn’t able to hide the hardening of his cock. Everett stared at it before he gathered his wits.

  “Yes. Going into a back room with him and what was it…two ladies?” Everett asked. “But not before she was dancing quite suggestively with a few other men.”

  Marcus folded his arms. “Do you think that makes her a killer?”

  Everett considered the question a moment. “Actually, no. I don’t think she killed the husbands. I didn’t from the moment she began speaking, even though I tested her. And her being shot at only seals my feelings on the matter. I think someone else is responsible and that she is in danger.”

  Marcus couldn’t cover his reaction. Everett knew him too well. It was relief that crossed his features. “Then I suppose your objections to helping her have more to do with what happened earlier when you came into the room. You resist because of how she looked at me when I had her skirts lifted. At how she looked at you when you returned?”

  Everett swallowed as his mind gave him a perfect picture of just that. And then a fantasy of more and more and more. “It’s been a long time since we…shared.”

  Marcus walked away and stood with his back to Everett. “Yes,” he said at last.

  Before Everett could reply, the parlor door opened and Naomi stepped back inside. Her hair had been tidied and her gown brushed so it was cleaner. The torn sleeve of her gown had even been hastily repaired. More than that, though, her attitude had changed. Her fear had been tamped down, so now she lifted her chin as she came into the room and met Everett’s gaze evenly.

  “You say I need protection and I cannot go home. Where do you suggest I go?” she asked.

  Marcus turn
ed and looked at Everett. Then he looked at Naomi. “I have an idea.”

  Chapter 3

  Naomi shifted as the carriage she was sitting in raced across London. She was uncomfortable, but not because of the speed, or the rig’s appointments. In fact, the carriage was very fine, pulled from what seemed to be the marquess’ fleet.

  No, it was the two men sitting across from her, watching her, which made her stomach flutter out of control.

  They’d been riding along for over an hour. Whatever plan Marcus had was a secret, for he and Everett had only discussed it with each other, not her. She had no idea where they were taking her or what they would do once they arrived.

  The only thing she did know was that both men watched her. And she knew what the looks in their eye meant. She knew wanting. She’d embraced it over the last few years of her life, forgetting the lifelong teachings that told her ladies were not to seek pleasure as men did.

  She desired it, she’d experienced it and she had no intention of shying away from it again. At least once the time was right.

  What she saw in both men was an echo of that yearning, turned on her. From both of them.

  She shivered and ducked her head, confused by that desire and her reaction to it. Didn’t Stephen deserve better than her panting over not one but two men? Especially if he’d been struck down because of her.

  “Where are you taking me?” she asked, her voice sounding thick and wobbly.

  Marcus exchanged a side glance with Everett and then said, “To a safe place.”

  That was no answer, and she thought he knew it. She sighed. “How long will I be there?”

  Everett arched a brow. “Until we can resolve who shot at you and potentially if they killed one or more of your late husbands.”

  She let out another long breath. It seemed she would have no answers from either of them. At least no satisfactory ones.

  “And my clothing,” she said. “I cannot stay in this dress forever.”

  “Of course not,” Everett said. “I have made arrangements for a handful of your things to be waiting at our destination tomorrow. Your servants will believe that you have decided to spend a few days with a friend. That way they are not in danger for knowing something about your true whereabouts. And they cannot share them with anyone if they are involved in this plot against you.”

  Naomi’s lips parted. “You think my servants—”

  “We have no way of knowing,” Marcus interrupted gently. “I realize that may come as a shock to you.”

  She bent her head as nausea overwhelmed her. “Perhaps not. After all, it seems you never really know a person, do you? You can believe in them and then…they turn out to not be what they seem.”

  There must have been something in her tone, for suddenly Marcus leaned in and caught her hand in his. She shivered at the warmth and comfort it brought all over again, knowing how foolish it was to allow herself to feel that from a stranger.

  Her upset and her shock today was making her do a great many things she hadn’t expected.

  “While we are in the carriage,” Everett said, his voice raspy now, “perhaps we should take this opportunity to talk more about your past. That will give Marcus and me some leads to follow once we are settled and you are safe.”

  She shrugged. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know. Especially if it will help you uncover the truth.”

  Everett was silent a moment, two. Then he leaned forward and snagged her gaze. “I’ll start with the most delicate of topics. One connected to the man whose murder is most likely. Marcus and I have seen you before. We both recognized you from the Donville Masquerade.”

  Naomi’s breath hitched. In the months of their marriage, many times Stephen had taken her to the masquerade, an underground club where those of quality played out their most erotic desires. She hadn’t always worn a mask, at her husband’s request. She had played the games he wanted to watch her play. She had watched the ones he desired to take part in. It had been a sexual awakening of the most personal kind. She’d learned her own needs, her own body. It hadn’t brought her closer to him, but she regretted none of it.

  “If you mention this to shame me,” she said softly, “you are wasting your time. I did go to the masquerade. I’m not sorry. I enjoyed my membership there and all I saw and did.”

  Everett arched a brow. “It is in no way meant to shame you, my lady. After all, my friend and I were also there. But perhaps your husband’s murder and your attack was linked to something you two participated in.”

  She swallowed. She hadn’t considered that. “But…but my other husbands never took me there.”

  “And we don’t know for certain if their deaths were murder,” Marcus said, releasing her hand at last. “So it is best to start exactly where Everett has suggested. Tell us about your time there.”

  She straightened her spine and met Marcus’s eyes evenly. “My husband liked to take on many lovers,” she said. “Two and three women at a time. He saw it beneath me, as a lady. So he refused to participate in those desires with me. But he wanted me to watch him. So I did.”

  Everett’s brow wrinkled. “He never touched you there?”

  “No, just them.” She blushed now, remembering her husband’s gaze as he watched her watching him. Then stopped watching her. Forgot her. Left her to make her own pleasure in those hot, steamy rooms. He’d all but stopped touching her at all once he began to take her there.

  “Were you finding your pleasure elsewhere?” Marcus asked, shifting and drawing her attention to the hard line of his cock beneath his trousers. She stared at it, felt herself lick her lips without meaning to.

  She jerked her gaze away before she whispered, “Not exactly. Occasionally I would dance with other men there. They touched me, but nothing to bring me to completion.”

  “More than one man,” Everett said. “We saw you dancing with two men one night.”

  She looked at them again. God, they were both so big in this carriage. Taking up all the space, all the air.

  She thought back to the night they mentioned. Yes, she had been dancing with one man when another had approached. Touched her from behind. They’d moved together, sensually, with a promise she had so wanted fulfilled.

  And then Stephen had drawn her away. How many nights had she touched herself imagining what might have happened next?

  Too many to count. But now when she pictured that, she thought of the two men across from her in the carriage. Dark and light, cool and heat. Touching her.

  She jolted at the thought and choked out, “It never amounted to anything.”

  “And the women?” Marcus pressed. “Could we be dealing with jealous husbands? Jealous lovers? Angry families?”

  “I believe Stephen only chose courtesans,” she said, dropping her chin to stare at the floor. “As I said, he didn’t think those kinds of activities were meant for a lady to participate in.”

  “Idiot,” Everett muttered under his breath.

  Marcus elbowed him and kept his gaze on Naomi. “Thank you for that,” he said.

  “For what?” she asked with a humorless laugh. “If I had no lovers to be jealous and his lovers were paid and unaffiliated, then I’ve given you nothing to go on,” she said.

  Marcus shook his head. “Eliminating a theory is just as good as proving one in this case. We’ll look into it further, but right now we don’t have to focus attention on something that will likely be a dead end.”

  She nodded and kept her eyes down. Right now she felt very crowded in. Uncertain. She didn’t want to reveal that fact in this situation which felt so confusing and painful and…fraught.

  The carriage slowed and then stopped, and she lifted her gaze as Everett reached out to open the door. “I’ll make the arrangements,” he said, then left her alone with Marcus as he got out and shut the door behind himself.

  She looked across at him and he smiled at her gently. “I realize this is difficult,” he said. “I promise you it will get better. But I
must tell you something.”

  She cocked her head. “That is an ominous tone.”

  Marcus sighed. “I suppose it is. This afternoon we drove around London, trying to be certain that no one was following us. And we’ll stay at this inn tonight, on the outskirts of the city. But we cannot be sure that we weren’t followed, so Everett will be getting you a room as if you are husband and wife.”

  Her lips parted on the shock of that statement. “We’ll stay in the room together?”

  He nodded. “And I will be acting as servant. Man of affairs to his lordship. Once you are settled, I will join you.”

  “All three of us,” she clarified. “In one room.”

  “We must to protect you,” he said. “If you were in your own room, then we couldn’t reach you in time if you were attacked. And if it were only one of us there, he could fall asleep and also be unaware of danger. So we’ll stay with you and sleep in shifts to keep an eye on you.”

  She stared at him, taking in every inch of that body that had been made for sin—and had probably taken part in a good deal of it. And there was a reaction throughout her entire being that was as wicked as could be. She wasn’t horrified by the idea of sharing a room with these men.

  She was thrilled. Down to her toes. Down to the places that throbbed until she touched herself and found release.

  “Do you have no argument? No questions?” he pressed gently.

  She met his stare and shook her head. “No, Captain. I understand what you’re saying. I have no argument to staying with you both…for my protection.”

  Chapter 4

  The room was very small. Everett sighed as he watched Naomi pace around it, looking at the single chair by the window and the narrow bed that would only just fit two. And fit two fairly snugly at that.

  He knew she had been told of the plan. Marcus had murmured that to him as Everett took her hand to escort his “wife” into the inn. Meanwhile, Marcus had played his role by seeing to the arrangements for the carriage, the horses and other preparations for tomorrow.