Lord of Fortune Read online

  “No!” Why was he behaving like an imbecile? “Of course I don’t want to go back to him. I want the book and the heart—the real heart, assuming the book will lead us to it and it actually exists. I am in this hunt until the bitter end.”

  She paced from one end of the lean-to to the other. “I thought about my grandfather all night.” Not all night. Only when she hadn’t been thinking of Penn, which was a fair amount. “I think it’s likely he knew the heart and the dagger were fake. If he believed the White Book was the key—”

  “Then he’d have to think it was the key to something, and what else besides the real heart, especially since the fake heart contains a clue. Assuming it is a clue. I keep thinking it could all be a ruse. Until we get the book, we can’t know.”

  She’d stopped when he interrupted her. “Yes, we need the book. Gideon’s plan is the best chance we have, and you know it. He will be with me in the coach, right outside the house. And you’ll be there, in the house. I trust you both to keep me safe.”

  He took the one step that separated them, then lifted his hand to her face. His fingertips caressed her cheekbone and trailed down along her jaw. “I promise to always keep you safe, no matter what the future holds. You may not be mine, but I will always wish you were.”

  The dam inside her broke, but not in the way it had last night. Instead of sadness and despair, she gave in to her anger and frustration at her situation.

  You may not be mine, but I will always wish you were.

  His words fed the hunger in her soul and pushed her to take what she wanted, and not what she should be content to receive.

  She clutched his lapels and pulled him to her until they crashed together—lips, chests, pelvises. He kissed her hard and fast, his tongue lashing at hers. She poured every emotion she had into the embrace, curling her arms around his neck, and pushing her body against his.

  He clasped her back, his hands running up and down her spine and sides without stopping. If they’d been in a bedchamber, she envisioned them tearing at each other’s clothes. But they weren’t in a bedchamber.

  She drew back with a gasp and stared at his kiss-reddened lips. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. Do you want to stop?”

  “Shouldn’t we?” She glanced at their surroundings—a narrow bench that spanned just half of the lean-to’s wall. It couldn’t support their weight.

  His gaze speared into hers, dark and intense. “If you want to.”

  “No. I mean, I don’t want to stop, but it seems rather impossible to continue. Here.”

  He gave her a slow, seductive smile. “You know I enjoy a challenge.” He clasped her waist and lifted her farther into the lean-to, until her back was against the wall. “Put your leg up here.” He gestured to the bench.

  She positioned her foot securely onto the wood, and his hand delved beneath her skirts. His fingers danced across her thigh before tangling in her curls. She clutched his shoulders, holding on to him for balance.

  “You can lean against the wall,” he murmured against her ear as he teased her sex with languid caresses. “In fact, I suggest you do. I’ll be using it to support our…activities shortly.”

  His mouth covered hers in a searing kiss. She moaned into him as need spiraled through her. He slipped his finger inside her, and she bucked against him.

  He tore his mouth from hers with a groan and kissed along her neck. She dug her fingers into him as her legs tensed. She wanted more, needed more.

  “Penn. I want—”

  He kissed her again, his mouth ravaging hers. She couldn’t get enough. Then there were two fingers pumping into her again and again. Pleasure built, and she wasn’t sure if she could sustain herself.

  Suddenly, his fingers were gone, and her skirt fell. She blinked at him as he bent his head. She dropped her gaze and saw him unbuttoning his fall.

  When she lowered her hand to help him, he grunted softly. “Lift your skirts.”

  She did as he bade, tugging the volume of fabric up to her waist, exposing her flesh to the air and to him.

  “So beautiful,” he murmured, as his cock sprang free of his clothing. His gaze found hers. “Hold on to me.”

  He put his hands beneath her clothing and clasped her waist, lifting her from the ground. Her back, already against the wall, pushed against it, as he brought his hand down the back of her thigh, pulling her leg around his waist.

  She understood and wrapped herself around him. Bracing her against the wall, he guided his cock into her sex, and she was instantly overcome with a wave of stunning rapture. He filled her completely, then pulled back only to drive into her again. Two strokes and she was gone, her climax tearing through her with a ferocity she never thought possible. But hadn’t he already shown her that what she thought was impossible wasn’t?

  That was the last rational thought she had as he thrust deep inside her, his body pinning her—deliciously—against the lean-to. He filled her so completely, and the pleasure… It never seemed to ebb. Even after the climax, it began to build again immediately. She was going to come a second time, and surely that was impossible…

  He buried his face in her neck, kissing and nipping at her flesh. She raked her nails along the wool of his coat and wished it was his bare back.

  He slammed into her again, and she felt his hips twitch with the onset of his climax. Then hers was upon her, proving that nothing was impossible—at least not with Penn.

  She cried out, and he kissed her hard and fast, trying to muffle his own exclamation. She tipped her head back against the wall as their harsh pants filled the small space of the lean-to.

  After a moment, when they were slightly more in control of their breathing, he withdrew from her. “Hell, I meant to pull away.”

  She hadn’t even considered it. She’d thought of nothing but coupling with him, of appeasing the ache inside her. “I’m sure it’s fine,” she murmured.

  He guided her wobbly legs to the ground, letting her skirt fall down around her legs. Frowning, he tucked his slackening shaft into his clothes. “I have nothing to help you clean up.”

  She flashed him a brief smile. “That’s what excessive undergarments—namely petticoats—are for.” She turned to the side and took care of her situation before facing him again. “How awful do I look?”

  “You look beautiful.” He traced his hand along her hairline, smoothing the strands from her face and gently kissing her lips.

  She turned and presented her back. “And from this angle?”

  “A bit of dirt here and there, I’m afraid. I’m sorry.”

  She turned back around to see the remorse in his gaze. “I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Thank you—for that. I shall never regret anything between us.”

  “Nor will I.”

  “I’ll go directly to my room.” She smoothed her hands over her skirts, trying—hopelessly—to erase the wrinkles they’d caused. “Tell the others I needed some time to think.”

  He cracked a half smile. “It won’t be hard to convince them of that.”

  “And you’ll finalize the planning with Kersey? We should leave as soon as possible. I can be ready in an hour. Actually, tell them I’ve gone upstairs to pack.”

  His forehead creased. “You really want to do this?”

  “Yes.” She exhaled and gave him a reassuring smile. “It’s the only way. We’ve come too far to let them win.” This had started as a quest to find her grandfather’s dagger, but it had become so much more. The stakes were higher and more complicated than she ever could have imagined. She couldn’t have walked away if her life depended on it. Her life did depend on it—this was all she had. All she wanted.

  She kissed his cheek. “I’ll be ready in an hour.” She’d explain to Culley and Horatio that they could stay here in her absence.

  She started to move past him, but he clasped her hand and drew her to turn. “If I could think of a way for us to be together, I would.” His voice was low and intense. “But with your husband
… I can only think of Septon and Lady Stratton. They might be together, but I can’t subject you to that level of disdain.”

  She hadn’t even thought of them. And while she wanted Penn, she didn’t think she could live like that. “I appreciate you saying so. I wouldn’t want that either.” What’s more, she wouldn’t do it to him. He was an earl—probably—and he needed a legitimate countess. She couldn’t be that for him.

  She turned and went into the house, eager to be on their way as apprehension and sadness stole the bliss he’d given her.

  She’d been wrong before. Some things were impossible. She and Penn might want a future together, but they’d both have to accept that it just wasn’t meant to be.

  * * *

  Penn waited a few moments before he followed Amelia inside. He needed to catch his breath.

  What the hell had he been thinking?

  He hadn’t been thinking. He’d been feeling. And surrendering to those feelings.

  He’d been foolish and reckless, and he couldn’t do it again. That knowledge burned through him. He closed his eyes and dropped his head, then massaged the back of his neck as if he could drive the tension away.

  Except he couldn’t.

  Focus on the book.

  Lifting his head, he inhaled sharply and dropped his hand to his side. Yes, he needed to focus on obtaining the book and solving the code so they could find the real heart.

  They. His association with Amelia wasn’t finished yet. He still had to watch her divert her husband while he found the book. That would be pure torture.

  But not as awful as when he had to say good-bye.

  Shoving the thought aside with a curse, he stalked into the house. When he arrived in the dining room, three pairs of eyes looked up at him. They’d finished their meals, and Penn’s had been covered to preserve it for when he returned. Only he wasn’t really hungry.

  “Where’s Mrs. Forrest?” Gideon asked, glancing behind Penn.

  “She’s gone upstairs to prepare for the trip. We’d like to leave immediately.”

  Gideon leapt to his feet. “Excellent. I’m glad she convinced you of the integrity of the plan—she’ll be fine. You’ll ensure it.”

  Of course he would. Penn said nothing.

  “I’ll have the horses prepared,” Gideon continued. “I think we should ride. A coach will slow us down. As I said before, we’ll hire one in Glastonbury for our needs.”

  “I agree,” Penn said.

  Gideon nodded, then left.

  Penn’s mother didn’t waste time in broaching the subject of Amelia. “Penn, I don’t wish to overstep, but I would be remiss if I didn’t ask you about Amelia. It was evident last night that your relationship is beyond that of mere professional associates.” There was concern in her gaze but also something else—was it sadness?

  Penn had considered—briefly with all that was going on—what he might say in the event his mother asked this. He didn’t want to go into too much depth. It was all moot anyway. “It turns out the husband who left her years ago has returned, so our relationship—whatever it was or might have been—is that of friendship and nothing more.” Never mind what had just occurred in the lean-to. They shouldn’t have done it, but neither would he regret it.

  His father coughed and dipped a glance toward Penn’s throat. “Son, your cravat is askew.”

  The meaning was clear—they’d drawn their own, not inaccurate, conclusions about where Penn and Amelia had gone. Or, more importantly, what they had done during their absence from the dining room.

  Penn silently swore as he adjusted his neckcloth. He was probably cocking it up even further, so he gave up almost immediately. Where was a glass of whiskey when he needed it?

  His mother laid her hand on the table, reaching toward him. “Penn, it’s none of our concern, but we care for you and don’t wish to see you hurt. When I thought there might be…something between you, I was overjoyed. To think you had finally found someone who would make you happy, someone for whom you might settle down…” She winced. “I’m sorry you can’t pursue it.”

  “Well, he could…” His father drawled.

  His mother gasped and sent him a sharp look. “Rhys! He most certainly cannot.”

  “It works for Septon and Lady Stratton.” Father tipped his head to the side. “Do you think they’ll wed now?”

  Mother rolled her eyes. “Septon allows many things that most would not. His association with that awful Order should be proof enough. You can’t think to infer Penn is the same.”

  Father straightened. “No.” He shot an apologetic smile at Penn. “I wish there was a way for you and Mrs. Forrest to be together—if that’s what you both want.”

  That was what he wanted. Would she want the same if she were free? She hadn’t said. But again, it was moot. It was perhaps better if he didn’t know.

  “As an earl, you should consider taking a countess,” his mother said. “But there’ll be time for that. Or not. I’d never planned to marry, and if I hadn’t met your father, I would likely be a spinster. There’s nothing wrong with being unmarried.”

  Penn stood from the table, anxious to put an end to this disquieting conversation. He wanted to focus on obtaining the White Book of Hergest. That was something he could control, something he could achieve.

  “I won’t be the earl, Gideon will. Even now, Egg is perhaps on his way back with the proof so that we may destroy it. Or perhaps he already has.”

  “And if he doesn’t?” Father asked with a grimace. “You need to think about the possibility that you are an earl.”

  Bitterness rose in his mouth. “I’ve thought of little else.” Until he’d learned of Amelia’s husband. For a brief while yesterday he’d actually come to terms with being the earl, if it meant Amelia would be his countess. Without her, he didn’t want it. Hell, without her, everything seemed far less palatable.

  His heart had started to pound. He took a deep breath to calm himself. He wasn’t angry with his parents, but with the situation he found himself in. “My apologies,” he said. “I know you both have my best interests at heart.”

  Father stood and came around to his side of the table. He clapped his hand on Penn’s shoulder. “We certainly do. And I deeply regret not telling you about Stratton sooner. I’m, ah, surprised at how well Gideon is taking this.”

  Mother left her chair and joined them. “I’ve been wondering about that too. Do you think he’s all right, or is he just hiding how he really feels?”

  Penn wasn’t sure. “I’ll find out on our journey.”

  Father didn’t look convinced. “If he’ll tell you. He can be rather enigmatic. Very unlike his father—Stratton’s thoughts and opinions were never a mystery.”

  “He couldn’t possibly keep anything to himself.” Mother shuddered. She turned a bright smile on Penn. “Please take care of yourself. And Gideon. And Amelia.”

  “I will.” He kissed her cheek, then embraced them both. “Watch for Egg, and tell him I’ll be back soon. We’ll send word when we have the book and let you know what we plan to do next.”

  Chapter 17

  They arrived in Glastonbury the following afternoon after spending the night in Ston Easton at a tiny inn. He and Gideon had shared a chamber, and when Penn had attempted to discuss the earldom, Gideon had feigned exhaustion.

  Penn hadn’t believed him, but neither had he pressed the issue. In truth, he didn’t particularly want to talk about it either. He didn’t even want to think about it. He just prayed Egg had found the vicar.

  Gideon led them west of the town toward Foliot’s estate, and presumably Forrest’s cottage. Though Gideon was somewhat familiar with the estate, it took him a little while to find what he thought was the right place. He motioned for them to join him near a stand of trees.

  “That looks like what Forrest described, doesn’t it?” Gideon inclined his head toward the cottage at the base of a gentle slope.

  Amelia nodded. “Yes. There are sheep grazing, as he sa
id, and a tall oak tree. It’s also nicer than the cottage we shared.”

  Penn ignored the pang of jealousy that shot through him. “I see the front door. Presumably, there is a window or a door for me to enter in the back. I’ll find something.”

  She looked over at him from beneath the brim of her bonnet. Her riding habit, a dark bottle green with gold trim, intensified the color of her eyes. Or perhaps that was just his whimsy. Whenever he looked at her, he felt like a man dying of unquenched thirst.

  “What if you don’t?” she asked. “How will I know if we need to abort the plan?”

  “I’ll use the signal we discussed earlier,” Gideon said. He’d demonstrated a birdcall that would be easy to discern, even from inside the cottage.

  She didn’t appear entirely mollified. Her gaze fixed on Penn. “And will I know if you’re able to get inside?”

  “Hopefully not. I try to be quieter than air.” He winked at her, hoping to put her at ease even though his own insides were a combustive mess.

  Gideon cleared his throat. “Let’s review this one more time. Amelia and I will go to the inn to hire the coach and change our clothing. Penn, you’ll stay here and scout your entry point.

  “We’ll return in an hour or so. While Amelia distracts that imbecile, I’ll wait with the coach. Penn will have found his way inside and will nab the book. When he arrives at the coach, I’ll give the signal. Amelia, you’ll extricate yourself from the cretin and come to the coach. Once you’re inside, we’ll leave immediately.”

  Amelia exhaled. “Then we’ll drop Penn here at his horse and take the coach back to the inn.”

  “Where Gideon will obtain your horses, and we’ll meet at that abandoned cottage we found outside the north end of town,” Penn said. “Then we’ll solve this bloody riddle and find the heart.”

  “It all sounds so neat and tidy.” Amelia sounded nervous. “You seem to have thought of everything.”