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 turmoiclass="underline" 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 donned her gown again, shivering as the silk pressed coolly against her nude body.
Then she sat waiting. She wished Lucian would come, for anxiety and uncertainty were slowly shredding her nerves. She could hear the faint crackle of the dying fire, along with the painful pounding of her heart.
It was utterly wrong to betray Lucian this way, Brynn knew, and yet she had no choice. She harbored a terrible dread about tonight. His life was in danger, she felt it in every bone in her body. If he tried to apprehend the traitors, he would be killed, it was as simple and precarious as that.
She was desperate to save Lucian, even if it meant seducing him and drugging his wine to prevent him from carrying out his duty. Once he was safely asleep, she would somehow have to try to stop Gray herself, though how she would manage that feat she had no idea. She sat wracking her brain for the next several moments, a suffocating tightness in her chest, feeling trapped between the ties of blood and the ties of love.
When the door finally opened, Brynn gave a start and rose to her feet. Lucian was still dressed for evening, she realized as he entered, although he had removed his jacket and cravat. His shirt hung open, exposing a smooth expanse of chest.
Her breath caught in her throat at the picture he made. He was still one of the most sinfully beautiful men she had ever met, with his lean elegance and muscular grace. When the door shut, he leaned indolently against it, his expression enigmatic as he met her gaze.
Brynn swallowed hard, trying to summon the courage for her performance. Slipping the bodice off her shoulders then, she let her gown fall to the floor in a whisper of silk, leaving her completely nude to his view.
She heard Lucian draw a sharp breath, yet his smile seemed forced as his bold gaze roamed over her. “Is this a seduction, my love?”
She tried to make her own smile provocative. “Merely a welcome. I am glad you have come.”
For a long moment she met his sapphire eyes, but he made no move to join her. Time stretched between them like a taut wire. At length, however, the soft snap of the fire in the hearth broke the spell.
Determined to appear nonchalant, Brynn shrugged her shoulders and went to the mahogany side table, where the tray bearing the crystal wine decanter and goblets rested. When she had poured two glasses, she crossed the bedchamber to Lucian and offered him the drugged one.
For another endless moment, he stared at the bloodred wine. She could feel her heart pounding as she waited for him to drink. Why did he hesitate?
Relief flooded her when he took a sip, and Brynn silently cursed herself. She had to strive for composure or her agitation would give her away. Unlike Lucian, she was an amateur at intrigue. He had matched wits against countless traitors and would certainly grow suspicious if she couldn’t behave naturally, as if she wanted to make love to him.
As it was, he regarded her with evident gravity, and there was a fine tension in his lean, muscled body-or was the tension merely in her because of what she was about to do?
When Lucian continued to watch her, Brynn averted her gaze, unable to meet his eyes any longer. She loathed herself for her betrayal.
“Is the wine to your taste?” Brynn made herself say, forcing herself to sip from her own glass.
“Yes. But then the French do make the finest wines.”
She glanced up sharply, not knowing why he had mentioned the French. Did he suspect her perfidy? Brynn wondered. Or was he referring to her brother’s smuggling? Lucian’s eyes glittered with sexual interest yet hid every other emotion brilliantly.
She shivered.
“Are you cold?” he queried.
“I hoped you would warm me.”
She saw his gaze darken responsively at her provocative reply, and for the first time in her life Brynn was glad for the curse that made her irresistible to men. She would need every advantage she possessed if she intended to use Lucian’s lust for her own purposes, for despite his obvious sexual attraction for her, he didn’t seem in an amorous mood.
“Why don’t you stir the fire,” he said, “while I close the draperies?”