His Wicked Embrace novel Chapter 26

Zehra slept for much of the coach ride back the following morning. Lawrence was to blame. He had spent all night making love to her. She had collapsed near dawn from sheer exhaustion. It was true, one could have too much of a good thing. She nuzzled his shoulder as the coach rolled to a stop.

"Are you awake?" His tender voice made her want to sigh and burrow deeper into his arms.

"If I say no, can you have the coachman take us back to Richmond?" she asked drowsily.

Lawrence's laugh warmed her to her toes. "Don't tempt me, darling. I'd like that more than you, I'd wager. Why don't I take you straight to bed and let you rest?" He brushed the backs of his fingers over her cheek, and she smiled.

"That sounds nice, as long as you join me. No more separate rooms."

"No more separate rooms," he agreed. For a moment they simply stared into one another's eyes, their faces close enough for a kiss. In that moment Zehra felt that she could have wanted nothing else in life, except to be with him.

But their driver was waiting for them to leave, so Lawrence helped Zehra out. It was midmorning as they climbed up the steps to his residence on Jermyn Street. As the door opened, Mr. MacTavish stared at them, eyes wide.

"My lord, I'm sorry, you have guests. I told them you weren't here, but-"

Lawrence went rigid. "Who is it, MacTavish? Is it Avery?" The panic in his tone sent a wave of dread through Zehra. Avery was the brother who would come to collect her, the one who planned to send her home.

"Er, not that one-it's His Lordship."

Lawrence frowned. "Lucien?"

"Yes, but Lord Essex, Lord Lonsdale, Lord Lennox, and Mr. St. Laurent are also here... As are their wives." The butler shuddered at the word, and Lawrence suddenly laughed as he turned to Zehra.

"My brother's wife and her friends are...spirited. They are known to get into a bit of trouble."

MacTavish nodded. "Aye, spirited isn't a strong enough word for the ladies. When they get together, they're like the witches of Macbeth, they are," the butler grumbled.

"Trouble?" Zehra had read Macbeth and highly doubted the ladies were witches of any kind, not by the way Lawrence was fighting off a smile.

"Yes, when the ladies were last here, they spent two hours practicing lock picking on all of the cabinets in the silver room."

MacTavish puffed his chest out. "Those cabinets are impenetrable, no matter what Her Grace says."

Zehra wasn't quite following all of this, but as they stepped inside the entryway, Lawrence leaned in to whisper in her ear.

"The Duchess of Essex, Emily St. Laurent, did pick the lock, and MacTavish is too proud to admit it. All of that Highland pride makes him convinced he keeps the household silver in an impenetrable fortress."

"A duchess was...picking locks?" Zehra asked, still puzzled. That didn't sound like something a highborn lady should be doing. "Why?"

"Well, you see, my brother Lucien and his friends are known in London as the League of Rogues."

"Rogues?" Zehra couldn't help but wonder if these men were like Lawrence or if she should be worried.