"They are," came the runner's flat response. He lounged near the fireplace with deceptive laziness, resting an arm on the marble mantel. Flames cast tongues of red light over his dark face. "Radnor is a swine. But that is beside the point. Her parents have agreed to the match. Money-a great deal of it-has changed hands. And if I don't retrieve her, Radnor will send a dozen more like me to do the job."
"They won't find me," Lottie said, finally managing to meet his gaze. "I'll go abroad. I'll disappear-"
"You little fool," Gentry interrupted in a low voice. "Do you plan to spend the rest of your life running? He'll send another man after you, and another. You'll never have a moment's peace. You can't go fast enough, or far enough-"
"That's enough," Westcliff said curtly, feeling the shiver that ran through Lottie's body. "No, Lottie will not go abroad, nor will she continue to run from Lord Radnor. We will find a way to resolve the matter so that she may lead a normal life."
"Oh?" One of Gentry's dark brows lifted in a mocking arch. "This should be interesting. What do you propose to do, Westcliff?"
The earl was silent as he considered the matter.
As Lottie continued to stare at Nick Gentry, she tried to think past the welter of emotions. She would find some way out. She would be damned if she would be taken to Radnor like a lamb to the slaughter. Her thoughts must have been obvious, for Gentry's gaze was suddenly touched with flinty admiration as he stared at her. "As I see it, you have only two options," he said softly.
Her voice shook only a little as she replied. "What are they?"
"With the right inducement, I may be persuaded to let you go, in which case you will continue to hide from Radnor until you're caught again. Or...you can remove yourself from his reach permanently."
"What do you mean?"
Lord Westcliff intervened in the taut silence. "He means marriage. Once you are married and legally under another man's protection, Radnor will cease his pursuit."
Lottie's gaze dropped to the strong hand covering hers. "But that is impossible. I don't know any men who would be willing..." She stopped, feeling ill and bitter.
"Itis possible," the earl countered calmly.
As Lottie stared at Westcliff with wondering eyes, Nick Gentry's quiet jeer cut through the air. "Planning to make her your countess, my lord?"
The earl's face was expressionless. "If necessary."
Stunned, Lottie clung to his hand tightly before withdrawing from him. It was inconceivable that Westcliff would be willing to make such a sacrifice. Perhaps she could reconcile herself to the prospect of marrying without love. After all, anything was preferable to becoming Lady Radnor. However, the earl was a good, honorable man, and she would not take advantage of him that way.
"You are remarkably kind, my lord," she told him. "But I would never marry you, as you deserve far better than a marriage of convenience. That is too great a sacrifice for you to make."
"It would hardly be a sacrifice," he replied dryly. "And it is a logical solution to your dilemma."
Lottie shook her head, her fine brows knitting as a new thought occurred to her. "There is a third option."
"What is it?"
A great icy calmness settled over Lottie, and suddenly she felt removed from the scene, as if she were an impartial onlooker rather than a participant. "I would rather not say just yet. If you would not mind, my lord, I would like to have a few minutes alone with Mr. Gentry."
CHAPTER 5
Nick had known that Lottie would not react passively to the news that he had hunted her down on behalf of Lord Radnor. But the passionate fury of her response when cornered had startled him. Now that she had regained her self-possession, she stared at him with a desperate calculation that he understood all too well. He thought her magnificent.
Although Lord Westcliff clearly did not agree with Lottie's request, he complied with a frown. "I will wait in the next room," he said, as if he expected Nick to fall on her like a ravening animal as soon as the door was closed. "Call out if you require assistance."
"Thank you, my lord," Lottie murmured, giving the earl a grateful smile that caused Nick to boil with jealousy. He would have required little provocation to drive his fist into Westcliff's aristocratic face, especially at the moment when he had taken Lottie's hand to comfort her. Nick had never been possessive of anyone in his life, but he could barely tolerate the sight of Lottie accepting another man's touch. Something was happening to him-he had lost control of the situation, and he was not certain how to regain it. All he knew for certain was that Lottie was necessary to him...that if he could not have her, this endless feeling of being hungry, unsatisfied, cold, would never leave him.
Nick remained by the fire, relaxed except for his clenched fist on the mantel. Silently he damned Westcliff for this turn of events. Nick had planned to impart the news to Lottie in a gentle way, and soothe her fears before she had a chance to fly into a panic. Now Westcliff had fouled things up considerably, and Lottie was understandably hostile.
She turned to him, her face pale, her eyes reddened from her tears. Her expression was composed, however, and she looked at him with unsettling intensity, as if she were trying to see inside his mind. Her searching gaze made him feel oddly threatened.
"Was it all an act?" she asked quietly.
Nick blinked. He, who had endured countless hours of scrutiny and interrogation and even torture, was completely thrown off by the question.
"I know that some of it was," Lottie said. "It was part of your job to gain my trust. But you went quite a bit farther than necessary." She approached him with hypnotic slowness. "Why did you say those things to me tonight?"
God help him, he couldn't answer. Worse, he couldn't look away from her, and she seemed to be staring through his eyes into his soul.
"The truth, Mr. Gentry," she insisted. "If I can bring myself to ask, surely you can bring yourself to answer. Did you mean any of it?"
Nick felt a light sweat break out on his face. He tried to close her away, to deny her, but it was impossible. "Yes," he said hoarsely and clamped his mouth shut. The devil take her if she wanted him to say anything more than that.
For some reason, the admission seemed to make Lottie relax. Nick couldn't begin to imagine why. Finally managing to rip his gaze away from hers, he stared blindly into the dancing firelight. "Now," he muttered, "perhaps you can explain what the third option is."
"I need protection from Lord Radnor," she said bluntly. "Few men would be able to hold their own against him. I believe that you could."
The statement was matter-of-fact...there was nothing complimentary in her tone. Nevertheless, Nick felt a flicker of masculine pride that she recognized his abilities.
"Yes, I could," he said evenly.
"Then in return for your protection and financial support, I would be willing to be your mistress. I would sign a legally binding contract to that effect. I think that would be enough to keep Lord Radnor at bay-and then I would no longer have to stay in hiding."
His mistress. Nick had never anticipated that she would be willing to lower herself that way. However, it seemed that Lottie was ultimately a pragmatist, recognizing when she could not afford to keep her principles.
"You'll let me bed you in return for my money and protection," he said, as if the wordmistress required definition. He threw a cautious glance at her. "You will live with me, and accompany me in public, regardless of the shame it causes you. Is that what you're saying?"
Her cheeks turned bright red, but she did not look away from him. "Yes."
Desire flooded every part of his body with primal heat. The realization that he was going to have her, that she would give herself to him willingly, made him light-headed. His mistress...but that wasn't enough. He needed more of her. All of her.