Mastering a Sinner (15 page)

“And what have we here? Another barbarian Scot?”

Alistair went still as the man ran a leisurely hand down over his chest and settled his fingers on the sturdy leather belt around Alistair’s hips.

“One who is hard in the presence of all these men?” He grabbed Alistair’s cock through the tartan, making him wince. “Surely that is a punishable offense?”

Alistair met the man’s gaze and deliberately broadened his accent. “Aye, if you free me from ma bounds, I’d be verra grateful indeed, sir.”

“How grateful?”

“Enough to suck ye dry, sir, and take any punishment you wish to mete out to me while I’m down there on my knees.”

“An interesting offer. And what happens if you escape?”

“After my attentions to ye, sir, I can assure ye, you’ll be more than willing to let me go.”

The man laughed. “I find you amusing, barbarian.”

With another quick glance at the guard who was too busy watching the man sucking cock, Alistair slowly licked his lips and stared down at his companion’s rapidly growing erection.

“Ye look big, sir, but I swear, I’ll take every bit of ye down my throat.”

The man reached up and freed Alistair’s wrists from the wall. With a prayer of thanks, Alistair sank down to his knees, kissed the man’s tunic, and then raised it to take his cock. Even though he needed to be fast, he didn’t disappoint his companion, sucking him off fast and deep until the man grabbed his hair and held on as he climaxed deep down Alistair’s throat.

“Damnation, that was—”

Alistair wiped a hand over his mouth and winked. “Good enough to allow me a moment to attempt to flee, sir? I’m fairly sure I’ll be caught and punished, but give me this chance.”

The man sank down onto the nearest bench and waved a hand at Alistair. “Go, you deserve it.”

Alistair ran past the guard and scanned the corridor. Where had Sir Ronald gone? Did his appearance have anything to do with Harry? He went through into the main gathering place, but could see no sign of Sir Ronald or his blond companion. Slowing his pace to avoid alarming anyone, he moved through the guests and out onto the landing. There was no sign of Diana either. Was she still dealing with Maddon, or had she in fact already been alerted to Fairbanks’s presence?

After a second of indecision, Alistair went down the stairs and turned into the hallway that contained the more private offices of the Sinners Club staff, including his own. There was a faint light under one of the doorways, and the latch was unlocked. Using the tip of his finger, he pushed the door panel open to reveal someone standing by the desk, red hair glinting in the candlelight.

“Harry.”

Alistair shut the door and leaned against it.

His brother looked up, a pistol in his hand pointing straight at Alistair. “Is that you, Alistair? What in God’s name are you wearing?”

“More importantly, what are you doing here?”

“I was just writing you a note.”

“Did you come with Sir Ronald?”

Harry looked up. “No, devil take it, is he here?” He shoved his pistol in the pocket of his greatcoat. “I’ll have to leave.”

“You’re not going anywhere until you’ve answered a few questions.”

Harry’s grin flashed out. “My dear, dear brother, always so self-righteous and pompous. Do you think I don’t know why you’re dressed like that? How you abase yourself for that woman?”

“I do not—”

Harry held up his hand. “I don’t have time to listen to your hypocritical excuses. I have to go.”

“I’m not moving from this door until you talk to me.”

“Oh,
please
don’t move, brother.”

A figure stepped out from the shadows to Alistair’s left, and the next thing he knew was a crashing pain in his skull and then he was falling.

 

“Good evening, Sir Ronald.”

Diana finally ran her prey to ground in the main salon.

His gaze raked over her. “Where’s Harry Maclean?”

She noted he didn’t bother to show her any of the respect a lady of her class should receive, but that meant she didn’t have to treat him as a gentleman either.

“I have no idea. Did he come here with you?”

“No, dammit, he did not, otherwise why would I be seeking him?” He looked around the crowded space. “I saw someone with red hair earlier.”

“That would probably be Mr.
Alistair
Maclean. He works here.”

“And is Harry’s brother, which means they are probably in league with each other.”

“I doubt that very much. Do you wish to speak to Mr. Alistair Maclean?”

“I
wish
to find Harry. He owes me money, but I suppose his brother would do. He might know something despite telling me the opposite, or why else would Harry come running back here?”

“I have no idea, Sir Ronald. If you would care to accompany me down to my office, I’ll institute a search for Harry and ask Mr. Maclean to attend to you.”

Sir Ronald turned on his heel and headed down the stairs, his expression aggrieved. Diana managed to get past him on the stairs and led him into her office, lighting more candles and checking the fire was still warm.

“I’ll only be a moment.”

Diana left the door ajar and turned to Maddon, who had accompanied her down the stairs. “Search for Harry. I’ll go and get the other Mr. Maclean.”

She went back up using the servants’ stairs, which brought her out right opposite where she wanted to be. The punishment room was crowded, and she had to find a way through the men gathered around a slave being auctioned off. The wall facing her was empty. After a moment of stunned dismay, she grabbed hold of the servant guarding the door.

“Where is Mr. Maclean?”

“He—” The man took one look at her expression and his grin faded. “He escaped, my lady. Someone helped him get away when my back was turned. I’m sorry, my lady. I thought it was all a bit of fun.”

“It’s not important. Thank you.” She picked her skirts and made her way through all the other rooms on the second floor, but there was no sign of Alistair or his liberator. She stopped at the double doors that led out onto the landing where two footmen were stationed.

“Have you seen Mr. Maclean?”

“Yes, my lady. He went down to the lower level about ten minutes ago.”

She thanked the footman and carried on down the stairs and into the quieter, less ornate office quarters. She inhaled the scent of an extinguished candle and quickened her pace. One of the doors was open and a figure knelt in the darkness. Diana crept closer until she could get a good look and then froze.

“What are you doing here?”

Charlotte looked up. “Mr. Maclean’s been knocked out and he’s bleeding. Do you want to fetch some help?”

 

Alistair stirred as the voice above him strengthened. A pleasant face framed with short fair hair shimmered over him.

“Who are you?”

“The person who found you. Lady Theale has gone for help. You’ll be fine now.”

“Where’s—?” He just managed to stop asking the question.

“Harry? Who knows? He’s long gone.”

Alistair licked his lips, but before he could say another word, the figure rose and walked away from him. Even as he closed his eyes against the pain in his skull, he became aware of other noises and approaching voices, the soft tones of Lady Theale, and the obnoxious bray of Sir Ronald.

“Bring more light!”

He kept his eyes tightly shut against the increasing glare and groaned as someone knelt beside him and touched his head.

“He was obviously hit from behind.”

Sir Ronald snorted. “Or he’s pretending to avoid being questioned about his association with his thieving brother.”

“Sir Ronald, unless Mr. Maclean is a contortionist, he could scarcely have done this to himself.”

Alistair tried to remember the name of the local apothecary who attended the Sinners and failed. Whatever the man’s name, he was doing an excellent job of ignoring Sir Ronald’s accusations.

“Gently now, Mr. Maclean. We’re going to carry you up to bed so that I can have a proper look at you.”

As he was carefully lifted from the floor, Alistair couldn’t help but gasp in pain while the room spun in circles around him. He had to close his eyes against the dancing lights and concerned faces and focus on not crying out again. The feel of his pillow beneath him and the flatness of his mattress was more than welcome.

“Thank you for your concern, Sir Ronald. We’ll let you know how Mr. Maclean is tomorrow.”

That was Diana’s voice. There was an implacable note beneath the sweet reasonableness that seemed to work as Sir Ronald’s mutterings disappeared down the stairs, leaving them in relative peace and quiet.

“Now then, Mr. Maclean. Let’s get you undressed and into bed, and then I’m going to wash the wound and give you something to ease the pain.”

The next few minutes were unpleasant as the apothecary probed the wound, resulting in Alistair having to be propped up to puke in a bowl.

When his injury was clean and deemed satisfactory, he was given a dose of laudanum. Diana put another pillow under his head and encouraged him to lie on his left side.

“Thank you, Andrew.”

“You’re welcome, Lady Theale. Send for me if his condition worsens.”

And then Alistair was left in blessed silence with only Diana stroking the damp hair back from his brow. He tried to form a question.

“How did Sir Ronald get in here?”

“I don’t know. He claims he was on the guest list.”

“The one we couldn’t find and thought Maddon had?”

“That’s the one.” She sighed. “He
said
he was looking for Harry.”

“Which makes sense because I found him.”

“Harry was here?” Her hand stilled on his hair. “Did he knock you out?”

“No, he was with someone. Obviously, I didn’t realize that until I was hit from behind. I assume they both went out the window of my office.”

“But we didn’t find you in your office.”

Alistair tried to blink back the wave of drowsiness. “What?”

“You weren’t in your office. You were in Mr. Fisher’s.”

15

“T
hat . . . can’t be right, I . . .” Alistair tried to sit up, and Diana pushed him gently back down.

“You are not to get agitated, Mr. Maclean. Mr. Fisher is already on his way back to the Sinners. I will go and speak to him as soon as you are asleep.”

“But—”

His voice grew weaker as the laudanum clouded his senses and his eyes finally closed.

Diana gestured to the footman waiting by the door.

“James, come and sit with Mr. Maclean. Ring the bell if he becomes agitated or wakes up again.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Has Mr. Fisher returned?”

“I believe he has, my lady.”

“Then I will go down to him.” Diana reluctantly released Alistair’s hand and left James to watch over him. Seeing him stretched out on the floor, his face bloody, had given her a considerable shock. She was still shaking.

After knocking on Adam Fisher’s office door, she went in and found him surveying his desk, his gaze keen, his countenance unruffled.

“Ah, Lady Theale. What the devil has been going on here tonight?”

She told him what she knew and then added what Alistair had mentioned about seeing his brother, Harry. Some of the ease leached from Mr. Fisher’s face.

“Harry was in here?”

“Apparently.”

“Damn.” He began to open and shut the drawers of his desk. “When we were . . . friends, he often came in here to wait while I finished work.” He sighed. “I soon learned that he had a terrible habit of stealing things that didn’t belong to him. When I confronted him with my suspicions, he either laughed or lied right to my face.”

“What do you think he was after?”

“I’m not sure, but—
damnation!
”

“What’s wrong?”

Mr. Fisher straightened a small key in his hand. “He
stole
this. I
know
he did and I hadn’t gotten around to changing the lock.”

“To what?”

He gestured for her to come around the desk to see the open drawer.

“My strongbox and all the important papers I don’t want to leave lying around.” With a strangled groan, he sank down onto his chair and clutched his hair. “Benedict is going to murder me.”

“Can you tell what is missing?”

He cast a disparaging glance down at the now jumbled contents of the box. “Money and God knows what else.” He sighed. “Is Benedict here?”

“I don’t think he is.”

“Then someone must go and fetch him. He needs to know about this immediately. And I need to sort through this box and work out what is missing.”

Diana bit her lip. “I’ll send a message to Lord Keyes right away.”

“Thank you.”

She started for the door.

“Diana, do you think Alistair had anything to do with this?”

Turning back to Mr. Fisher, she shook her head. “No, I don’t. Mr. Maclean has told me more than once that his loyalty to you and the Sinners is absolute. Whatever happened tonight was all Harry’s own doing.”

“I think you’re right, but it doesn’t hurt to be careful. Where is Alistair now?”

“Upstairs in bed recovering from a severe blow to the back of his head.”

“Harry
hit
him?”

“Harry’s accomplice, I believe.”

“That sounds more like it. Harry isn’t keen on physical violence, although he’s always happy to encourage others to fight for him.” He groaned into his hands. “I’ve been such a gullible fool, and now my stupidity might have cost this nation more than I can imagine.”

“I’m sure it won’t be as bad as all that, Mr. Fisher.” Diana wanted to go and comfort her employer, but something about the rigid set of his shoulders sent her hurrying out to find Maddon and send for Lord Keyes.

When she’d accomplished her tasks, she went back to the second floor to check on the Roman orgy and found that everything had gone extremely well. The staff was already in the process of clearing up the remains of the feast and helping the odd drunken guest leave for home or borrow one of the bedrooms in the guest quarters.

After thanking everyone, paying out wages to the staff from the pleasure house, and making sure everything was put back in place, she went down and knocked on Mr. Fisher’s door again. When she entered, Lord Keyes was standing over his partner, his expression uncharacteristically furious.

Diana hesitated. “Shall I wait outside, Mr. Fisher? I—”

“Oh no, come in. You deserve to hear Benedict telling me what a weak fool I am. How I’ve allowed Harry Maclean to lead me around by my cock for years!”

She remained by the door. “I think I should let you discuss this matter between yourselves.”

Lord Keyes held up his hand. “Don’t bother. I’ve said my piece now. Please come in, Lady Theale. I wish to hear exactly what happened.”

Diana went through the events of the evening again and Lord Keyes nodded, but didn’t comment until she reached the part when she found Alistair bleeding in the doorway of Mr. Fisher’s office.

“Did he seem surprised to find his brother here?”

“I haven’t asked him. But I would assume he wasn’t very pleased about it.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because it was obvious that Alistair was sick and tired of dealing with his brother’s antics.”

“He’s said that many times before, Lady Theale, and he’s always changed his mind and protected him in the end.”

Diana drew an unsteady breath. “With all due respect, Lord Keyes, it sounds as if you are trying to place the blame for this incident on Alistair Maclean. Why is that?”

“Because he’s trying to protect my feelings,” Adam interrupted her. “But she’s right, Benedict. Let’s place the blame where it should be, squarely on my shoulders. From my conversations with Alistair, I know that he’s already given his brother everything he had. There
is
no more and I’ll wager Harry knows that.”

“Which is why he came back to you,” Lord Keyes said and stood up. “All right. We’ll assume Alistair can be trusted and include him in all our future deliberations about how to track down his offensive brother. I’ll also alert our network to the possibility of leaked information and see if anyone hears anything. Apart from that, until you can pinpoint exactly what’s missing, Adam, there’s little else we can do.”

Diana nodded. “Alistair might have some more information, but I doubt he will be lucid until tomorrow. The apothecary gave him laudanum.”

Lord Keyes shot her a keen glance. “Not the best thing to give someone who has a head injury. I’ve seen far too many men filled with opiates who never wake up again.”

Diana brought her hand to her throat. “Then what should I do?”

He smiled at her without any humor. “Make
sure
he wakes up. Talk to him, nag him, but make certain he’s able to talk to you through the night. He’ll hate you for it, but you might save his life.”

“Then if I may be excused, I’ll go up to him right now.”

“Of course, Lady Theale.” Lord Keyes bowed to her. “Thank you for everything you have done for us tonight. The Sinners is a better place for having you here.”

“Thank you, my lord.” She curtsied and tried to smile. She’d never felt so appreciated or welcome anywhere in her life before, and it was all a sham. “I’ll speak to you both in the morning.”

Picking up her skirts, she ran up the two flights of stairs to Alistair’s stark bedchamber and startled James as she hurried into the room.

“I’ll sit with him now.”

“Are you sure, my lady?” James cast a rather dubious eye over her. “Do you not want to change first?”

She realized she was still wearing her Roman costume and that her right breast was perilously close to being completely on display.

“Perhaps you might ask my maid to fetch my dressing gown and bring it to me here.”

“I’ll do that, my lady. We wouldn’t want you catching a chill.”

His embarrassed concern for her was yet another reason to feel guilty about her decision to confront her supposed father, but she wasn’t prepared to let it go yet. Rubbing her eyes, and aware that the cosmetics she had used to enhance her features were probably smeared all over her face, she availed herself of the jug of water and washcloth by Alistair’s bed.

With a sigh, she sat down and studied Alistair’s austere features. Even in his sleep he didn’t look soft; his face was all hard angles and lines that denoted his strength of character. How anyone could doubt his courage just because of his preferences in bed escaped her. She liked watching him fight his nature, to learn to yield to her when he thought he could give no more, to learn to trust her to know when to stop . . .

“My lady.”

She looked up to see her maid approaching with her dressing gown and was soon more decently covered and alone with Mr. Maclean. After a deep breath she turned to him and shook his shoulder hard.

“Mr. Maclean, wake up. Wake up right now.”

 

Alistair struggled to resist the voice that called to him. But it was impossible. Eventually he opened one eye and mumbled something obscene. For some reason Diana was shaking him.

“Stop it,” he groused. “Let me sleep.”

“No, you need to wake up and tell me your name.”

“You
know
my name.”

“Yes, but do you?”

He glared at her for a long moment, but she wouldn’t look away or get off his chest.

“Alistair Ian Fraser Maclean, Laird of Duart Castle, master of nothing.”

“You’re a lord?”

“Was. Family lost everything in the 1745 rebellion. Father branded a traitor.”

“How terrible.”

“Served him right, the old fool.”

“And the rest of your family?”

“Safely on the Isle of Mull, living in a cottage in the ruins of the castle.” He frowned. “Apart from Harry, of course. He lives here.”

“Your mother is still alive?”

“Aye, and two of my sisters.” He blinked hard and tried to focus on her face. “Why are you asking me all these questions?”

“Because Lord Keyes said that head injuries can be fatal.”

“Of course they can if your brains spill out. I’ve seen it happen.”

She shuddered. “We don’t need to speak of that.”

“I just have a wee headache.”

She smiled at him. “And now you can go back to sleep. I must warn you that I’m going to wake you up again in an hour or so.”

“As you wish, my lady.” But he was already slipping away, her smile the last thing he saw.

 

He woke by himself at dawn and turned his head on his pillow to see Diana stretched out on the covers beside him. He traced her nose and the angle of her cheekbones with the tip of his finger. His memories of the night were confusing and jumbled and his skull ached as if he’d drunk a bottle of brandy.

He frowned. Had he been drinking?

“You’re awake. Thank goodness.” She smiled at him and then yawned.

“For the fifth time.”

“I had to make sure that you didn’t succumb to the laudanum and never wake up again.”

“Why?”

She came up on one elbow and looked down at him, her gaze sleepy. “What do you mean?”

“Why did you care for me rather than one of the servants or the apothecary?”

“Because you’re mine.” She reached for his hand and held it tightly.

“Your property?”

“You don’t wear my collar, but I still feel some responsibility for you.”

He thought about the implications of that and wasn’t as alarmed by her words as perhaps he should have been.

“I seem to remember Harry was here.”

“So you said. I don’t believe anyone else saw him.” She hesitated. “Lord Keyes and Mr. Fisher want to talk to you about what happened.”

Alistair briefly closed his eyes. “Of course they do.” He managed to let go of her hand and sit up without clutching at his head and howling. “Would you be so kind as to ring the bell and have some hot water brought up? I need to shave and make myself presentable.”

She slid off the bed and rang the bell. “I expect you are quite famished. I’ll see you at breakfast.”

With a nod, she headed for the door.

“Thank you, my lady,” Alistair said.

“For what?”

“For waking me up.”

She smothered another yawn. “It was my pleasure.”

He had a sense that she meant it, that her definition of caring for him was far more encompassing than he could ever have imagined. For the first time in his life, he felt
safe
with someone. Shaking off that thought, he managed to sit on the side of the bed and put his feet on the floor without puking. If Lord Keyes and Mr. Fisher wanted to see him, he’d better make sure he looked presentable even if they were going to demand his resignation.

Would he ever escape the taint of his brother’s misdeeds? He tried to be a good, honest man, but there were many people who would never trust him simply because his last name was Maclean. What was the point of living an upright life when Harry constantly dragged him down? He’d felt welcome at the Sinners,
valued
. . .

“Morning, sir. How are you feeling?” James came in with a basin of hot water and some clean towels. “You’re still looking green around the gills.”

“I have a bit of a headache.”

“I’m not surprised, sir. You were bleeding like a pig last night.”

Alistair repressed a shudder and found his way to his dressing table and his shaving gear. His expression was haggard. He couldn’t see the wound under the thick wad of bandage Andrew had applied to it. With fingers that shook, he untied the bandages and checked for fresh bleeding. Luckily there was none.

James hovered behind him, a concerned expression on his face.

“Would you like me to shave you, sir?”

Alistair studied the razor and then his trembling hand. “Yes, I think that would be an excellent idea.”