Copyright © Tracy Cooper-Posey

Smashwords Edition

About Southampton Swindle

By reader and reviewer request, the story of Nathanial and Sebastian and how they met.

Liars are in need of good allies.
Southampton, 1786: Since being tossed from his ancestral family home at thirteen, and falling in with a swindler, Sebastian has been fighting to preserve life and limb any way he can. While ingratiating himself with Lady Wandsworth and her thousands of pounds, Sebastian meets another roguish charmer, Nathanial, and at his side, the pretty but deadly Anne. Sebastian’s world is abruptly changed as he is introduced to imagination-defying ideas and is snared in an international swindle involving the Queen of France’s diamond necklace.

Sebastian is drawn to Nathanial and his worldly, experienced ways, until Anne reveals the truth about him and the necklace….

WARNING: This book contains two hot, sexy alpha heroes, frequent, explicit and frank sex scenes and sexual language.
It includes heart-stopping sexual scenes between the aforementioned sexy heroes, menage scenes, and anal sex. Don't proceed beyond this point if hot love scenes offend you.
No vampires were harmed in the making of this novel.
___

This is a Blood Drops book. Blood Drops are short and novella length stories featuing the characters and situations in the Blood Stone series. Droplet sized morsels for your reading pleasure.

The Blood Stone series:
Blood Stone 1: Blood Knot (#1 Amazon Best Seller, Fantasy Romance)
Blood Drops 1.1: Southampton Swindle
Blood Drop 1.2: Broken Promise
Blood Stone 2: Blood Stone
Blood Stone 3: Blood Unleashed
Blood Stone 3.5: Blood Drive – Blood Stone Boxed Set 1
Blood Stone 4: Blood Revealed (Upcoming)

These are continuing characters and storylines. Reading the series in order is strongly recommended.

Praise for Southampton Swindle

It’s a fun read, very set in the 1700′s and is a sort of period “who dunnit” novel. As always Tracy pulls out stops so we can’t quite work out who’s done what, just when I thought I knew what and who was to blame things changed. Of course as its how the two men met there’s some hot, sexy love scenes too….A great fill-in book, wrapped up in a diverting story.—Jeannie Zelos Book Reviews.

This little read was a fun way to fill in the gaps of Nathanial and Sebastian’s story. While I don’t usually like historical paranormal romance, I will always make exceptions for this author. I love this series and would eagerly gobble up even more from this world. I can’t wait to see what else the author has lined up!—Carrie Reads A Lot

This is a short historical tale featuring likeable rogues, double-crossing, a jewel theft, a bit of intrigue, a scheming hussy, a bit of MFM sex and a bit more MM sex, that seemingly introduces a couple that goes on to feature in the Blood Stones series. It’s well-written and a decent coffee-break read and frankly I don’t know how the author managed to fit in so much to make it an interesting read without turning it into ‘too many cooks’.–Netgalley

Chapter One

East Park, Southampton, England, 1786 A.D. Late summer.

Sebastian forced himself to pick up Lady Mercy Wandsworth’s soft, lace-encased hand and lean over it, his other hand resting on top, as if he would dare more if only the circumstances in which they found themselves were not quite so public. “I have received news,” he murmured. “A letter. Jonathan smuggled it out of the prison. He is in most dire straits, my lady.”

Her big eyes widened underneath the huge bonnet she wore, despite the watery sun and cool day. “Oh, my dear Richard. Your friend is suffering! This is terrible.”

Sebastian nodded gravely. “Of all Jonathan’s friends, he chose to communicate with me. I cannot betray his trust and hope in me.”

Lady Wandsworth let her parasol tilt backwards as she looked up at him. Her companions, two matrons and a maiden that Sebastian had not met and didn’t know were standing to one side of the wide footpath, watching avidly as he, a supposedly well-off bachelor, spoke in public to Southampton’s most recent and wealthiest widow. He barely glanced at them. Instead he poured all his attention upon the woman whose hand he still held, despite the proprieties. Lady Wandsworth herself gave him a warm smile. “May I see the letter?” she asked.

Sebastian reached into his cutaway coat and withdrew the letter he had spent the last evening writing, folding and sealing, then soiling and aging it to look like it had been passed through many hands on its way from the completely fictitious prison in Spain. “I would not have you touch such a filthy communique, my lady,” he said, showing her the outside of the letter.

She pressed her fingertips to her mouth in growing horror. “Oh my…is that dark patch…is that…?”

Sebastian nodded. “It has dried, my lady. Someone—perhaps even Jonathan—spilled blood in order that this letter reach me. I cannot leave him in that place for a moment longer. I must help him, but…” He gave her a modest, almost embarrassed glance. “I do not know how I might do that.”

She was scanning the letter avidly. “He speaks of his affairs in the letter, Richard?”

“In passing,” Sebastian said off-handedly. “He begs me to help him move his business concerns out of Spain, but that is all. He sounds ill, my Lady. I do not know how much longer he might last in that wretched place.”

One of the women standing patiently to the side giggled. It was a light, breathy sound, muffled behind a gloved hand.

Sebastian wanted to scowl, but kept his gaze upon the lady Wandsworth and his expression woebegone.

“Nathaniel! Oh, my goodness. You’re here!” The exclamation was almost fevered in its intensity, drawing Lady Wandsworth’s attention away from Sebastian. He sighed within, and turned to face the newcomer with a pleasant smile.

The man had his back to him. He was bending over the hand of the maiden while the two matrons fluffed and fluttered on either side of her. The maid, Sebastian realized belatedly, was rather beautiful in a young, dimple-cheeked and creamy skin way. She had abundant dark mahogany curls cascading beneath the straw sun hat she wore, which the blue ribbons complemented nicely.

She turned to the women on either side of her, glancing at them. “Madam Beauchamp, Lady Allsworth, may I present to you my fiancé, Nathanial Smythington, the Earl of Beechwood?”

The earl gave both matrons a courtly nod of the head and they fanned themselves, clearly flustered.

Sebastian chewed the inside of his cheek to stop from laughing aloud.

The maid, whose name he still did not know, caught at the earl’s elbow and turned to Lady Wandsworth. “Lady Mercy,” she said. “It is my honor and delight to present Nathaniel to you. Nathaniel, this is Lady Mercy Wandsworth, the dowager Duchess of Pembroke.”

The earl had turned to face Lady Wandsworth and Sebastian got his first look at the blighter.

He wasn’t at all what Sebastian had expected. Sebastian had assumed a belted earl would be well into middle age and hunting for a suitable wife to carry on the family line. This fellow looked to be somewhere in his thirties – perhaps close to Sebastian’s own thirty one years. He was extraordinarily handsome, with very clear, very blue eyes and glossy black hair that shone in the weak sunlight. He smiled as he took Lady Wandsworth’s hand and bowed over it, giving her what Sebastian was quite sure was intended to be a knee-weakening smile.

“Lady Wandsworth, you have been so kind in taking care of my fiancé while I was in France. I hope Beatrice has been entertaining you?”

Lady Wandsworth gave a warm smile of her own in return. “Beatrice is a most agreeable companion. It has been a delight to have her stay in my home. The halls do not echo quite as loudly while she is with us.”

Smythington turned to Sebastian and held out his hand. “Nathaniel Smythington,” he said shortly. “I don’t know you.”

Sebastian took his hand automatically and squeezed. There was power to spare in the man’s grip. Somewhere under the snug-fitting coat and breeches, he had muscle.

“Richard Laurier,” Sebastian said just as shortly. “The Lady Wandsworth and I are acquaintances.”

“You were in France, Smythington?” one of the matrons asked, stepping around Beatrice so she could look at him. “Did you hear anything about the trial?”

The trial. Sebastian hid his impatience. The newspapers had been trumpeting about the Queen of France’s necklace and the plot to steal it for nearly a week.

Smythington smiled broadly again, showing very white and even teeth. “I did indeed hear something. The necklace has mysteriously disappeared.”

“Gone?” the two woman echoed, gasping.

“It is missing,” Smythington confirmed. He leaned toward them a little and lowered his voice. “I heard that it might even be somewhere here in England.”

They looked at each other, aghast and delighted at this latest snippet of news.

Smythington turned back to Lady Wandsworth, making Sebastian grit his teeth. “It has been a very deep pleasure to meet you, Lady Wandsworth. Would you mind if I stole Beatrice for an hour or two? I have not seen her for many weeks, and a stroll about the park will let me reacquaint myself with the virtues of my bride-to-be.”

“I don’t know…” Lady Wandsworth said slowly. “It would not be seemly—”

“Laurier can be our chaperone. What say you, Laurier? Care to take a turn about the park?” The last was directed at Sebastian, with a smile. The man’s blue eyes were guileless and friendly.

Sebastian couldn’t refuse without looking downright churlish. It was a perfectly reasonable request. “I would be pleased to accompany you,” he said stiffly and turned to pick up Lady Wandsworth’s hand one more time. “Thank you so much for your thoughtfulness, my lady. I will speak to you on another occasion.”

“Make it soon, Richard,” she replied, her fingers squeezing his. “I am most anxious to know about your friend.”

The three ladies turned and began to stroll along the path, all in a row, while the earl tucked his fiancé’s hand under his elbow and faced the opposite direction. Feeling very much like an unwanted appendage, Sebastian walked behind them, trying to contain his seething frustration. This Nathanial fellow had put a stopper on three weeks of careful work upon Lady Wandsworth.

He was looking down at his fiancé now, studying her.

She dropped her hand from his elbow and glanced at Sebastian before saying to her finance: “He has a friend in a Spanish prison, who wants his business interests moved out of Spain. Presumably before any Spanish authorities seize them.” Her tone was withering, her recitation dry. It was a most unexpected expression, coming from such a young miss. What did she know of such matters?

Smythington steered her off the path, crossing the well-trimmed grass to a mighty oak spreading its summer foliage across the green. He stepped underneath the canopy and turned to face Sebastian, who was forced to follow. As soon as he was close enough for speech, Smythington spoke, his friendliness evaporating.

“You’re hunting Lady Wandsworth,” he said flatly. “Or, I should say, her sixty thousand pounds.”

Sebastian held back his surprise. “I assure you, sir—”

Smythington rolled his eyes. “Come, come. There is no friend in prison. I warrant the prison itself does not exist. In the next few days, once you have enticed her with the idea of getting her hands on…what? Several more thousands of pounds that are as fictitious as the prison, you will artfully coax her into spending a few thousand pounds of her own on bribes, and expenses that need to be raised in order to shift the prisoner’s business affairs out of Spain. Then a week or so later, when your imaginary friend is at the point of death, you will beg her for a few thousand more in order to secure his escape. That will be the last she will see of her money, while you will disappear over the nearest horizon.”

Sebastian let anger cross his features. “You, sir, are insulting my character and my—”

“Nathanial, we don’t have time for this,” the girl said wearily. “He’s ruining the most delicious caper I’ve ever dreamed up. Do something!”

This time Sebastian could feel the shock right through to his fingertips. He stared at Beatrice, at her fresh innocence and youth. The high cheekbones touched with a blush of pink. “You…you are attempting to swindle Lady Wandsworth?” He felt breathless.

“You are rather in the way,” Nathanial told him.

“How…?” Sebastian asked the girl flatly.

She smiled at him. “As if I would tell you!”

“One of you needs to renege,” Nathanial added.

“I have been working on this for weeks,” Sebastian protested.

“I’ve been doing it for months,” Beatrice said flatly. “She doesn’t trust anyone. It’s taken me weeks to win her approval.” She scowled. “I don’t know why she trusted you so quickly.”

“She doesn’t trust me,” Sebastian said flatly. “She believes I am as stupid as I have let her believe. She wants the money in Spain. Once she gets her hands on it, she thinks, she is going to throw me out of England and keep it for herself. Trust has nothing to do with it.” He gave Beatrice a small smile. “I play to the victim’s weaknesses. Perhaps you should try it. You may have better luck.”

“I am playing to her weaknesses,” Beatrice shot back with a scowl.

“I assure you,” Sebastian told her. “Mercy Wandsworth is no more interested in your admittedly breathtaking innocence than mine.”

“Of course she is not,” Beatrice snapped. “She wants my body, not my soul.”

Sebastian caught his sagging jaw and closed it with a snap, while he reconstructed the facts surrounding Lady Wandsworth as he now understood them. It was always vital to understand the victim’s wants and desires, what moved them to make decisions, before attempting any swindle. How had he missed this?

“Mercy Wandsworth is as crooked as a bent farthing,” Nathanial added. He clapped Sebastian’s shoulder. “You knew that, or you would not have dangled the temptation of ill-gotten gains in front of her. Come and drink with us, Laurier. You look in need of propping up. An ale will take care of that.”

Sebastian shook his head. “I thank you, but I must refuse.”

“Leave the widow alone, boy,” Smythington said. “Give her time to think and to develop a keener appetite for your friend’s money. She’ll fall into your hand like a ripe peach.”

There was wisdom in what he was saying. To press the matter too hard would be to show his hand. But to leave her unattended for too long came with different risks.

“I suppose a small cup of ale would be appreciated,” Sebastian conceded. But he fully intended to pursue Lady Wandsworth to the bitter end as quickly as possible, now he had a rival for her sixty thousand pounds.

* * * * *

There was a public inn on Pound Tree Road, a brisk forty minutes’ walk from the oak tree they had stood beneath. Smythington, however, had a coach waiting on the west side of the park, which he led them to. “My rooms,” he told the driver, who touched his brim and picked up the reins.

They settled inside the carriage. Sebastian found it odd that Beatrice did not sit next to her fiancé…if he was her fiancé. Instead, she sat next to him and took off her hat and gloves, and the lace modesty panel covering her décolletage. She loosened her hair, letting a few stray locks fall about her face.

The change to her appearance with just a few simple adjustments was astonishing. The innocent maiden had departed. In her place sat a woman of striking loveliness, her figure outlined most agreeably by the satin of her gown. She glanced at Sebastian with a look that spoke of experience with men. “It is more effective a disguise than simply trying to appear foolish,” she told him.

Nathanial smiled. “Hers is a disguise that has enamored legions,” he added.

“I thought we were going to an inn,” Sebastian said.

“My rooms are closer and the company far more congenial. Besides, it wouldn’t be appropriate for a lady to be seen in an inn,” Smythington replied. “What is your name, by the way?”

Sebastian stared at him.

“I ask, because I am wondering if I have heard of your deeds before now,” Nathaniel continued. “There are not many of us who move among the gentry…well, not many that last long. You had an excellent scheme there.”

“I have an excellent scheme,” Sebastian replied stiffly.

“Your accent is quite genuine, too,” Nathaniel added. “Were you born to this life and lost your way?”

“That is most certainly none of your concern.” Anger was prodding him, and Sebastian considered once more the wisdom of spending time in this man’s company. “Who are you, exactly?” he demanded. “I know nothing of you. Your name is not familiar.”

“Of course it isn’t. The name is not mine, any more than Beatrice is Anne’s real name.” He touched his long fingers to the silk brocade waistcoat. “I am Nathanial Aquila. You will not have heard of me. I only arrived in England this spring.” He lifted his hand toward Beatrice. Anne. “This is Anne Beecham, who has gone by many names and can claim many coups as her own. Do not let her looks deceive you.”

Sebastian looked at them both. “You trust me with your real names?”

Nathanial raised a single brow. “We witnessed you acting in a fraudulent manner toward Lady Wandsworth. You could no more tell the police about us than we can reveal your activities to them and risk you sharing our names with them. We have each other over the proverbial barrel. So tell me your name. I will not deal with one of your false identities.”

Sebastian took a deep breath. “Sebastian Christopher Worthington the Third.” It felt very strange to speak his real name aloud. He had not done that for many years.

The pair of them was studying him once more. “You forgot to add the titles,” Anne said.

“No, he didn’t,” Nathanial replied. “The titles are no longer his.” He looked at Sebastian. “What were they, purely out of curiosity?”

Those were names he had not spoken of in well over a decade. He swallowed. “Viscount Norwood and eventually, the Earl of Knighton.”

“Knighton,” Nathaniel repeated. “Your father still lives, then. I must congratulate you, Sebastian. There isn’t a lingering trace of the Irish in your accent. Not one ounce.”

Sebastian let himself relax. “I could say t’same about yer own accent. You bein’ so new to England.”

Nathaniel smiled almost reminiscently. “I lost all traces of my birthplace a long time ago.”

The carriage swayed around a corner and began to slow.

“We’re nearly there,” Nathaniel said, looking out the window. “It will be easier to talk, inside. We have much to share, you and I.”

Anne smiled and her smile was full of knowledge and wickedness, sending a dart of surprise and wonder into Sebastian’s chest. What, exactly, did Nathanial mean by that?

Chapter Two

Nathanial’s rooms were located inside an extravagantly large house not far from the park. It was a very respectable address indeed.

Nathanial handed Anne out of the carriage while Sebastian looked up at the white stone façade and the windows, which all wore lace panels. He wondered if these expensive rooms were part of Nathaniel’s disguise as Beatrice’s fiancé, or if they were his real abode.

Inside, a staircase swept up to the next floor. Nathanial led them to the steps and they climbed to the second floor. A grand gallery opened up from there. Nathaniel strode to the far end, where a set of doors was recessed into the wood paneling of the gallery. He unlocked the door and opened it as he tucked away the key. He stood aside.

“We’re quite harmless, I assure you,” he told Sebastian.

Still uneasy, Sebastian stepped into the room and Nathanial shut the door behind him. Sebastian let his gaze roam around the room. There was an elegant sofa, pulled up to the fireplace, a large round dining table covered with a damask tablecloth, with a crystal chandelier lamp sitting in the middle of it. Through another set of doors that stood partially open, Sebastian could see a bedroom, with a large bed and an equally large wardrobe, its clawed legs sitting upon an elegant carpet.

It was not the poor lodgings of a hand-to-mouth swindler by any measure. He relaxed just a little.

Nathanial was standing at a bureau, pouring wine from a large flask into two glasses. Anne had settled herself on the sofa—but not in the stiff-backed upright position a lady of character maintained at all times. She was lying back against the high corner, with one foot actually raised from the floor, her lower limbs draped along the length of the sofa. Sebastian tried not to stare, for her ankle was showing. Her hems had lifted enough to reveal the slender joint encased in fine white stocking.

“Here,” Nathanial said, by Sebastian’s side.

Sebastian drew his gaze away from Anne and looked at the glass Nathanial was offering and took it. A drink was sounding more agreeable by the moment.

Nathaniel handed Anne the other glass and sat upon the low armless chair pulled up by the fire alongside the sofa. The fire was dead, but there were smoking coals that said it had been burning not long before.

“You are not drinking?” Sebastian asked Nathaniel.

He held up his hand. “Do not take offense. I cannot drink, although I would join you if I could.”

Sebastian surmised that the man must have some sort of delicate condition that disallowed wine. He held up his glass. “Very well then. Your good health, sir…and madam,” he added looking toward Anne.

She lifted her glass with a smile that seemed to be full of promise.

“Drink,” Nathanial urged him.

Sebastian drank.

* * * * *

He woke with a start, as rain pattered against glass close by his head. It was dim in the room and Sebastian blinked, tasting the effects of too much wine on his tongue and teeth.

He was in a bed. A strange bed.

Slowly, he began to put the last moments he remembered back into their proper order. Nathanial and Anne, and wine. Laughter. A great deal of laughter. As the fire Nathanial had rebuilt slowly died, there had also been a great deal of talk.

Nathanial was a storehouse of astonishing tales. He had travelled to a great many places, some of which Sebastian did not know even existed. The stories he told were fascinating for their strangeness and the oddity of the events Nathanial had experienced.

Sebastian had sat listening with rapt attention. Anne had refilled his glass more than once, but he had barely noticed. The warmth of the fire and the congenial company was quite enough to hold his complete attention.

He rolled onto his back on the comfortable mattress, frowning. He couldn’t remember clearly how he had arrived upon this bed. It was Nathaniel’s bed – the claw foot wardrobe crouched like a darker shadow in the gloom, telling him where he was. But how had he come to be here?

Dimly, he remembered being helped along, his own feet barely managing to swing forward. His head had been hanging, leaving him staring at his boots. He had been talking the whole time he was helped into the bed. What had he been saying?

He sat up in the bed and discovered a new thing: He was naked.

Invisible fingers walked the length of his spine, making him shiver. Who had undressed him? Both of them? Anne was most certainly a woman who was familiar with the intimacies of men—she would be quite capable of removing his clothes.

He looked toward the foot of the bed. Nothing lay there but a man’s dressing robe. His clothes had disappeared.

The rain ceased suddenly, leaving behind the drip of water from eaves and the wet clop of horses’ hooves, almost drowned out by the hiss of carriage wheels slicing through the water on the cobbles, outside. The room grew a little lighter, which told him it was daytime, still, but gloomy because of rain clouds.

He reached for the robe, as there was nothing else to wear, and climbed out of the bed and threw it on, belting it firmly. Then he stepped out into the main room.

Nathanial stood at the fireplace, kicking a log to coax it into rolling further into the heart of the fire. His elbow was on the tall mantle. He had taken off his coat and his shirt sleeves were carelessly rolled, lace and all, to reveal his wrists.

The candles had been lit, giving the room a yellow glow that made it seem far more intimate than its size would normally allow. The flames from the fire illuminated the carpet in a rosy halo, too.

Nathanial turned as Sebastian entered. “Good evening. I hope your sleep was sound?”

“It is evening?” Sebastian asked, looking around for a timepiece, but there was no clock to be found.

“It is nearly six o’clock. You’ve slept the afternoon away,” Nathaniel replied. “There is food on the table. I suggest you eat it. It will help with your headache.”

Sebastian did have a headache. He looked at the table. “This is most generous of you,” he said slowly, “but I should return to my own affairs and impose on you no longer. Where are my clothes?”

Nathanial kicked at the log once more. “We burned them,” he said flatly.

A cold, invisible hand clutched at Sebastian’s heart. “You…burned them.” He couldn’t believe it. “Why? What have I done to offend you that you would take such—?”

Nathaniel gave a small waving motion with his hand. “They were threadbare and good for naught but kindling.” He turned and gave Sebastian a hard look. “How long have you been wearing your entire wardrobe upon your back? Do you even have accommodations?”

“What gentleman doesn’t?” Sebastian replied.

Nathaniel gave him a glance that he had trouble interpreting. “Where have you been sleeping?” he asked sharply, proving he had seen past Sebastian’s evasion.

Sebastian thought of the hard, high-backed wooden bench he had been dozing upon at the Dog and Crow on Pound Tree Road, until the inn keeper had tossed him out for the night. There were park benches and, once, a doorstep that was deep enough to keep the rain off him. But he made himself glare indignantly at Nathaniel. “Where else would I sleep, but in a bed?”

Nathaniel studied him. There was something in his expression that Sebastian could not analyze, which was disturbing, for he had never before failed to read a person’s thoughts and wishes from their gestures and expressions before.

“When was your last meal?” Nathanial asked gently.

Sebastian would have answered with more hot indignation, except that his stomach, which must have heard Nathanial’s question, gave out a sharp, loud rumble. Sebastian kept his gaze averted from the food on the table. He would not beggar himself any more than he had already.

Nathanial moved to the table and pulled out a heavy brocade chair and patted the back of it. “There’s no need to answer,” he said. “Sit. Eat. I know you are hungry. I have sent to my tailor for more clothing, as swiftly as he can arrange them. That was several hours ago, not long after we carried you to bed, so the garments will soon be here. Come and sit down.”

Sebastian moved toward the table, a dozen questions occurring to him. He didn’t know where to start, so he began with the obvious one. “A few hours to deliver an entire set of garments?” he asked. “Your tailor must be a magician in disguise.”

“I commissioned the items a few weeks ago. I merely asked him to hurry their finishing. You and I are close enough in size that you should be able to wear them without embarrassment.”

Sebastian approached the chair hesitantly. “Your charity—” he began.

“Nonsense,” Nathanial replied, with a touch of anger in his voice. “I do not pander to paupers and charity is not an act of which you could rightfully accuse me.” He gripped Sebastian’s elbow and drew him to the chair, and pushed him into it. His hand pressed his shoulder for a moment. “You are a fellow traveler, Sebastian. I would be remiss if I did not help you.”

“That still sounds like charity,” Sebastian muttered, curling his hands into fists in his lap to stop himself reaching for the platter of apricots and strawberries. His mouth watered at the sight of it.

Nathanial sat in the other chair pulled up to the table. His gaze was steady. “I like you,” he said simply. “I would hate myself if I did not help when I am in a position to do so.” He pushed the board with a redolent cheese on it closer to Sebastian, then dropped a cheese knife right in front of him. “If it helps smooth your conscience, I will confess I have spent two guineas on this meal that you can return to me when you have funds available. Now, will you eat?

It did help, to know he was expected to repay the meal, although he could not guess when he might do so. His plan to ease Lady Wandsworth away from a few of her thousands had come adrift, although the plan was still salvageable.

He picked up an apricot and bit into it, his stomach growling. The apricot was heavenly. It had been a while since he had tasted anything fresh like this. It had admittedly been a long, cold and lean winter.

“Are you not eating?” he asked Nathanial.

The man got to his feet and moved to the bureau by the door, from where he had retrieved wine, earlier that morning. “I’ve eaten already,” he replied. “You go ahead and enjoy yourself.” He poured another glassful of the excellent claret and placed it in front of Sebastian. “Just a small glass. It will help,” he said as Sebastian was about to protest.

Sebastian was more interested in the food. It was excellent – the cheese was as aged as the fruit was fresh. There was a half of a roasted fowl and a minced meat pie, both of which were quite satisfying despite not being hot. He ate quickly.

“I remember that,” Nathaniel said.

“Remember what?” Sebastian asked, after swallowing an enormous mouthful.

“Eating fast, like you’re doing now. When a man doesn’t know when the next meal will be, and is afraid this meal will be snatched away without notice, he eats as you are eating.” His expression darkened. “As I once ate.”

“You?” Sebastian asked, startled into the question. It seemed impossible that a man so worldly, so wise, might ever have had to scrape for his supper. Then he sought to change the subject, for to linger upon it might force him to reveal more of himself than he wished. Nathanial had a knack for seeing past anything Sebastian said, and ferreting out truths he would much rather remain hidden. He picked up an apple from the tray of fruit and leaned back. “Where is the lady…? Where is Anne?”

Nathaniel returned to the fire, this time to rearrange it with the poker, and add another log. “Anne had to return to Lady Wandsworth’s. She had already stretched her absence for as long as a maiden of her supposed reputation could safely do. She said she would return this evening if she could find a way to do so that wouldn’t put her status in jeopardy.”

“And what is Anne to you?” Sebastian asked and bit into the apple. It was tart and sweet and perfect.

Nathaniel had remained by the fire, but now he turned to look at Sebastian with a small smile. “So, Anne’s charms have worked their magic on you, too.”

Sebastian could feel heat in his cheeks and was glad of the low light in the room. “She seems to be a remarkable woman.”

Nathanial pushed his sleeves further up his arms. “I would be wary of her, if I were you.”

“Why do you say that? Because she is a swindler like you and me?”

“Anne is nothing like me—or you, I suspect. She has strong appetites and her taste in entertainment is…unusual. I have had many, many years of practice at this peculiar art of ours. Anne has not. She is quite young, after all. But Anne is utterly ruthless. Emotions do not interfere with her work or her leisure pursuits. Appeals to her better nature are useless. For that reason, she has had such great success, but it is a success of which I do not envy her or would ever wish for myself.”

Sebastian put the remains of the apple down, uninterested in eating any more of it. “You were telling me about Rome, earlier,” he said. “About the ruins there.”

“Oh, they’re not ruins, despite their age,” Nathanial replied easily. “Romans live in and upon the foundations built by their ancestors, back when Rome was the center of the western world. It is a remarkable place. A beautiful place—” He turned his head sharply, as if he had heard something. Then he smiled at Sebastian. “Anne is here.”

“She is?” Sebastian shook his head. “I heard nothing.”

Nathanial moved to the door and unlocked it. “She is in a hurry, too,” he added and opened the door.

A heartbeat later, Anne turned into the doorway, her eyes sparkling and her cheeks touched pink by the chill of the evening. She was once again the demure young maiden, with every hair in place and not a bow or button undone. But she saw Nathanial holding the door open and threw herself at him. Her arms wound around his neck and her entire body pressed against his. “I came as soon as I could get away. I thought I would go crazy if I had to listen to another bible reading! I told them I had a headache from all the sun this morning, and went to bed early.”

“How very enterprising of you,” Nathaniel told her. “Did you use the window or did you bribe a maid?”

“Both,” she said with a smile. “I remembered what you said about keeping the staff happy.” Then she kissed him.

Sebastian was too startled to do anything proper like clear his throat or leave the room. It was quite shocking to see two people kissing right in front of him.

Nathaniel let the door swing shut and took hold of her properly, returning the kiss with undisguised passion.

Sebastian knew he should look away, but he could not. It was wicked to watch them so openly, but it arrested his attention.

Anne stepped back and removed her flat, wide-brimmed hat, then rapidly pulled pins from her hair and dropped them to the floor, until she could shake her head and let the thick curls fall around her shoulders. Then she kissed Nathanial again. It was a most improper kiss, if any kiss could be said to be proper, and Anne was the one leading the kiss. Her hands swiftly untied the ribbon holding Nathaniel’s queue in place, even as she pressed herself up against him, her chin raised to kiss him with fervor. As his hair swung about his neck in a thick, black curtain, she slid the buttons of his waistcoat undone and pushed it from his shoulders. It dropped to the floor with a light, muffled thud.

Sebastian wanted to squirm on his chair. Watching them was rousing him, with an intensity he had not experienced in a long time. It was not simply the depravity of a maid seducing a man with obvious relish. He realized he had sat there for too long in silence. He could not make his presence known, now. Perhaps he should simply retire to the bedroom and wait.

Then a thought slammed through him, making his body tense and his cock stir. What if they wanted the bedroom?

But Anne looked like she was happy to stand where she was, stripping Nathaniel of his clothing. She had the buttons of his shirt undone and was pulling it from his breeches, revealing the hard planes of his torso.

Sebastian drew in an unsteady breath. This was too much! Say something!

But Nathanial pulled his lips from hers and looked up at Sebastian, as if he had heard the tiny sound Sebastian had made.

His movement alerted Anne, who looked at Sebastian, startled, then laughed up at Nathanial. “I didn’t think he would still be here,” she confessed, her small hands resting against Nathaniel’s bare chest.

Nathanial turned her to face Sebastian, and he stepped behind her, his hands on her tiny waist. “Sebastian was enjoying himself,” he said softly.

Sebastian wished mightily that the floor might split asunder at that very moment, and swallow him whole.

But Anne’s smile transformed into the same knowing expression of pleasure that Sebastian had seen in the carriage and from time to time while they had been drinking. “Was he?” she asked. Her hands slid over the top of Nathanial’s, then pushed them up along the front of her dress. She pressed them over her breasts, all while staring at Sebastian.

Sebastian’s heart was thundering so loudly he was surprised no one else in the room could hear it. His body—all of it!—was stiff with rising lust. He was incapable of moving and barely able to breathe.

Nathanial withdrew his hands from Anne’s chest. “I doubt Sebastian has ever met anyone like you,” he told her. His hands were moving behind her and Sebastian wondered if he even dared speculate that Nathanial was loosening her dress.

“You should explain yourself to him fully and comprehensively,” Nathanial continued. “I am sure he will find your charms quite overwhelming.”

“I think he already does,” Anne said with the same slow, knowing smile at Sebastian.

Her dress sagged, revealing more of the chemise beneath. Nathanial whipped away the lace modesty panel covering her breasts and pushed the top of the striped satin dress down to her waist.

Anne pulled her arms out of the sleeves while Nathanial pulled at the ties holding her petticoats in place, while Sebastian held his breath. He wouldn’t….

But he did. The petticoats dropped to the floor, and the dress with them, leaving Anne standing in a puddle of satin and linen, her chemise covering her only to mid-thigh.

“You…you’re not wearing…pantalets,” Sebastian breathed, shocked into speech.

Anne’s eyes were sleepy, her smile slow. “I’m not wearing anything under this,” she told him, sliding the hem of the chemise up her leg, revealing more and more of her thigh.

“You will push Sebastian into heart failure with much more,” Nathanial warned her.

Nathanial was obviously enjoying himself. That steadied Sebastian somewhat. If Nathaniel thought Anne’s behavior to be merely amusing, then Sebastian needed to respond in kind.

Anne continued to draw the chemise up her thigh, revealing milky flesh, then a hip, then the luscious curve above the hip. She gripped the bottom of the chemise in both hands and pulled it up over her head in one movement.

Now she was indeed naked, except for the stockings that stopped just above her knees, and her shoes with their satin bows. Sebastian stared openly, for he knew she wanted him to. She had a figure that was full and curvy. Her breasts were heavy, lush things, the tips rosy and tight with pleasure. The junction between her thighs was neat and trim. She was irresistible.

But still, Sebastian made no move to rise from the table. He didn’t understand the game that Anne was playing, but instinct told him he should remain where he was until she invited him over. Would she invite him to join her? Or was her intention merely to tease him with possibilities?

But she came to him. She stepped over the pile of discarded dress and petticoats and walked over to him, her hips swaying in a most enticing way, the breasts moving very little. Then she shocked him anew by stepping over his knees so that her thighs straddled him. She reached down and tugged at the belt of his robe, pulling until the knot unravelled and the belt fell away. The robe fell open, revealing his own nakedness and his cock, which was rampantly erect.

Sebastian squeezed his fists hard, to stop himself reaching for her, as she ran her finger along the length of his cock. It was like the touch of a feather, but it brought his lust to full boil.

The fingers of her other hand rested at the top of her thigh, very close to where they joined. They moved restlessly…

It was far too overwhelming. Sebastian acted before he knew he was about to. He stood and reached past her to push the remains of his dinner out of the way. Then he laid her on the table, spread her knees and rammed his cock into her, driving himself in to the hilt in one thrust.

He paused, his whole body throbbing with the sensuousness of the moment, breathing hard.

Anne was smiling at him. “Do that again,” she said. “Do it harder.”

Sebastian drove into her, helpless to do anything but obey her command. He had taken women before, but they had never been like Anne, who was so enthusiastic about the act. It pushed his pleasure higher. He was going to spend himself more quickly than he had done since becoming a man.

He choked back his groan as he spurted into her, and gripped the table edge hard.

As soon as he withdrew, Anne rolled off the table and stood up. She was smiling.

“Anne,” Nathanial said. “Come here.”

Sebastian had forgotten that Nathanial was in the room and that someone had witnessed the entire carnal act. But Nathanial did not seem to be disturbed by what he had witnessed. On the contrary, he seemed pleased.

He unbuttoned his breeches as Anne moved over to where he stood by the fire. When she reached him, he turned her so she had her back to him, and bent her over, so that her derriere was facing him. Anne smiled and put her hands on her knees, bracing herself.

Nathaniel glanced at Sebastian. “Come and help me,” he said shortly as he took a good grip on Anne’s hips.

Help…? Sebastian had no idea what Nathanial intended, but he moved over to the fire, the robe swinging freely around his ankles, as Nathaniel pushed the front of his breeches aside. His cock emerged, long and red. He guided it into Anne.

“Stand in front of her,” Nathanial told him as he placed his other hand on her rear.

Sebastian’s heart leapt with shock and building excitement. Did she intend…? He had heard of whores doing this service, but no woman he had ever bedded had considered the idea appropriate much less interesting.

He stepped around in front of Anne, his cock already at attention. She reached out and gripped his shaft with her small hand, drawing him close. Then she opened her lips and closed them around him.

Sebastian groaned aloud at the delicious, intoxicating sensation. Her lips were firm around him, her mouth hot and moist. The tip of her tongue stroked under the head of his cock and in reaction, Sebastian shot his hand out, burying it in her mahogany curls, and clenched hard. His hips were flexing, thrusting him deeper into her mouth, but she didn’t seem to mind.

Through his half-closed eyes, Sebastian saw that Nathanial was thrusting into her, his eyes on her rear, where he entered her. His jaw was held firm as he rocked in and out of her.

Anne moaned around Sebastian’s cock. It was an arousing sound, vibrating against his flesh.

Sebastian’s breath came in ragged spurts. He was going to come again. He wondered whether she wanted him in her mouth when he did, but did not worry about it. The pleasure of her mouth and tongue and the touch of her teeth were too wonderful.

Nathanial spent himself with a low groan, slamming into her with hard strokes. Then he withdrew and walked around Anne to stand next to her shoulder and watch, his breeches open and revealing all of him. Sebastian glanced at him. He was a tall figure of a man, standing more than an inch taller than Sebastian, who most reckoned as tall to begin with. His chest and shoulders were thick with muscle, while his belly was rippled.

Nathanial stepped around behind Sebastian and he felt him slide the robe from his shoulders. “I would like to see without obstruction,” Nathanial murmured.

Sebastian let the robe slide from his arms. He was completely naked now, but felt no awkwardness, not when Anne was feasting upon him in this way. It was taking most of his attention.

Nathanial stepped around to watch, once more. Now, he was as naked as Sebastian and Anne. He watched Anne work. “Are these delights to your taste?” he asked softly.

Sebastian swallowed. “Most assuredly.” His voice was hoarse. His pleasure was building to the peak once more. The crawling, squeezing sensation at the pit of his belly was building. His eyes drifted closed.

“Are you not glad you stopped for ale, now?”

Sebastian could barely think. The pleasure was building, stealing all his attention. His fingers curled into tighter fists, gripping Anne’s hair. Then his pleasure exploded, and he emptied himself into her mouth in hard little jerks of his hips. It was the most astounding sensation he had ever experienced. He heard himself cry out, but it was not a noise he made voluntarily. It was pulled from him.

Was it Anne’s lips on him, or Nathanial’s observation that made it such an intense experience? Or both of those things? He didn’t know. He only knew that he felt more alive than he had in years.

Gratitude coursed through him like a warm wave. Anne was standing up, the back of her hand wiping excess moisture from her lips. She wore the same small smile she had been wearing when she turned to look at Sebastian, her hands resting on Nathanial’s chest.

Nathanial had incited this. He had turned her and offered her to him. He had directed Sebastian to stand in front of her. Nathanial had orchestrated all of it.

Sebastian turned to Nathanial and kissed him. It was meant as an expression of thanks, and nothing more, but as soon as his lips touched Nathanial’s, he drew in a sharp breath as a deeper, different pleasure touched him.

Realizing what he was doing, Sebastian stepped back, shock slithering through him.

“No,” Nathanial said quickly as Sebastian opened his mouth to speak. Nathanial pressed a finger against his lips and shook his head. “Do not apologize,” he said, and his voice was a rough as Sebastian’s had been. He looked into Sebastian’s eyes as his finger lifted and the hand curled around the back of his neck. Slowly, an inch at a time, Nathanial drew him closer.

Sebastian let himself be drawn. There were hundreds of thoughts and questions cascading through his mind, too many and too quickly for him to consider properly. The overwhelming sensation that settled in his heart as Nathanial pulled him closer was a sense of rightness.

Nathanial pressed his lips against Sebastian’s once more. It was a slow, almost hesitant kiss. But it was delightful. It was different from a woman’s kiss, and a woman’s kiss was a pleasure. But this was... Sebastian could not think of why it was different. It was better – infinitely better than any kiss he had ever received.

Then Nathanial groaned and his tongue thrust into his mouth. Sebastian shuddered as pleasure coursed through his limbs, hot and silvered. He forgot to think. He almost forgot to breathe.

Emotion, he whispered to himself, in his head. There was emotion in this kiss. Overwhelming, warm, passionate emotion.

When Nathanial finally released him, Sebastian did not step away. He did not trust his limbs to hold him up, if he tried to use them for anything more complicated that standing right where he was. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from the man in front of him.

Nathanial was studying him, his gaze roaming over his face.

That was when Anne stamped her foot. As she was still wearing her shoes, the sound was loud and startlingly. “He’s mine, damn your eyes, Nathanial!” she cried, her hands on her hips.

Nathanial had not looked away from Sebastian. He began to smile. It was a warm, rich expression. “No, he’s not,” he said simply.

“Oooh!” she replied, stamping her foot again. She flounced over to where the pile of silk and linen still sat on the floor and bent over to pick up her chemise. “You’re stealing him!” she snapped and pushed her arms into the garment with hard thrusts. She pulled it over her head and yanked it down about her hips with furious movements.

“I don’t think Sebastian is the sort of man that would let himself be stolen by anyone,” Nathanial replied, still calm. “He has too much pride.”

“Words!” Anne spat. “You met him this morning! It’s typical of you, Nathanial. You turn everything into a melodrama.”

“Perhaps,” he agreed. “But this time I am right.” He held out his hand. “Come back here, Anne. You can still be a part of this.”

She picked up her dress and petticoats, wrapping her arms around the bundle as best she could. Then she looked at Nathanial with contempt. “You know I don’t do that.” She turned and marched to the door, her behind swaying under the thin chemise. At the door, she swiveled and caught at the handle with one hand and pulled it open by stepping backwards, then kicking the door fully open with her heel. She glanced at them one last time. “If you break your promise to help me with Lady Wandsworth, Nathanial, I will find a way to make you regret it.”

“Your scheme is quite safe,” Nathanial assured her.

She walked out, letting the door swing shut behind her.

Chapter Three

“Where is Anne going?” Sebastian asked, staring at the closed door. “She is undressed!”

“I imagine she will pick the lock of someone else’s room, and step inside to finish dressing. I have never worried about Anne. She is quite capable of taking care of herself. She had done it all her life.” Nathanial strode over to the door and turned the key, locking it.

He came back to where Sebastian was standing by the fire, his gaze fixed on him.

Sebastian swallowed again. His heart was beating irregularly. It felt like he was on the very brink of some enormous event, but he didn’t know what that might be.

When Nathanial reached him once more, Sebastian drew a steadying breath. “You should know, Nathanial, that I have never….” He couldn’t speak the words.

Nathanial studied him gravely. “You have never been with a man before?”

Memories tapped at his thoughts. Harsh ones. Dark ones. Pain. The hot beer-ladened breath fanning his face. Big hands holding him down.

“No,” he said quickly, then shook his head. “I mean yes. That is not my concern. It isn’t a concern. It is a confession.” He stopped himself from babbling and drew another breath. “I have never kissed a man before.”

“Ah…” Nathanial gave him a small smile. “You’re very good at it, for someone who has never done it before.”

Sebastian could feel the heat of a blush in his cheeks. “I liked it,” he said flatly. “It seemed…right.”

“It did, didn’t it?” Nathanial agreed. He curled his hands around Sebastian’s shoulders. “I would like to do it again.”

“As would I.” His voice was tight with anticipation.

Nathanial pressed his lips against Sebastian’s and it was as wonderful as the first kiss. Wonderful and so different! His heart began to thunder in his chest again. He tried not to think of what lay ahead, for thinking of it brought all the old memories swimming to the surface. Instead, he focused on the delight Nathanial’s kiss gave him.

His body tightened, the deepening pleasure circling and arousing.

Nathanial’s hand slid over his buttock, cupping it, making Sebastian’s hip jerk in response, a little thrust that signified how agreeable Nathanial’s touch was to him.

Nathanial drew him closer, until their bodies were pressed tightly together, their tumescent cocks pressed against each other’s bellies. His fingers stroked Sebastian’s back and rear.

This…gentleness was unknown to Sebastian. The tenderness was novel and very nice. It let him relax and reach for Nathanial, sliding his hand along Nathanial’s well developed arms.

Nathanial slid his lips from Sebastian, down over his chin, to his throat. It was a unique sensation, just like all the novel feelings he was experiencing. Nathanial’s lips pressed against the base of his throat, on the side of his neck.

Sebastian’s breath was ragged, as if he had run his heart out. His excitement was building far more rapidly than it had with Anne. He never wanted this to end, though.

Nathanial stepped away from him, and picked up his hand. “Come,” he said, his voice low. He led Sebastian into the bedroom, with the big, high bed, and Sebastian’s heart leapt even higher.

Nathanial opened the wardrobe and pulled from the bottom of it a small bottle, which he sat upon the small table next to the bed. Sebastian looked at it curiously. “What is that?”

“Oil,” Nathanial said. “It eases your way and ensures there is no pain.”

Sebastian’s mouth opened. “No pain? Is that possible?”

Nathanial glanced at him sharply. “You have not willingly been with a man before.”

Sebastian shook his head. It did not seem to be a shameful thing to admit it. Not to Nathanial.

“Oh, Bastian….” Nathanial sounded sad. He moved closer and pressed his hand against Sebastian’s jaw. His thumb stroked over his cheek. “I will not hurt you.”

“I don’t care if you do. Not you.”

“I will not. You will find this as pleasurable as anything you have ever experienced.”

Sebastian didn’t know what to say. There was still a small pocket of fear in him, despite the reassurance he felt.

Nathanial kissed him briefly. “Lie down,” he directed. “On your back.”

Puzzled, Sebastian did so, pushing the rumpled covers aside. Nathanial tugged at his knees, demonstrating great strength, pulling him closer to the side of the bed, to the point where his rear was just at the edge. Nathanial spread his knees, and curled his fingers around Sebastian’s cock.

Sebastian drew in a sharp breath, almost a gasp. The sensation was almost overwhelming. His cock stirred under Nathanial’s touch, for he was drawing his fingers up and down the length of him.

Sebastian gripped the sheet with both hands. This was unlike anything he had ever experienced. Nathanial knew exactly what was the most pleasurable pressure, the best stroke…. When his other hand cupped his balls and squeezed, Sebastian cried out.

Nathanial bent and slid his lips over the end of his cock and this time Sebastian reared up in reaction, reaching for his head. It was the most glorious sensation!

But Nathanial pushed him back down upon the bed. “Stay still. Enjoy yourself,” he ordered, then plunged his cock back into his mouth.

Sebastian gripped the sheets again, desperately, as Nathanial worked his magic. When Sebastian was sure he could withstand not a second more of it, without spending himself in a hard rush, Nathanial straightened and reached for the bottle. He poured some of the oil into his hand, watching Sebastian. He was smiling.

Sebastian tried to recover his breath. Tried to calm his heart. But now he knew what was about to happen, and his high state of excitement let him anticipate it with pleasure.

Nathanial first took his own cock in hand and spread the oil along it. Just watching him stroke himself was arousing and Sebastian swallowed.

Then Nathanial stroked Sebastian’s flesh below his balls, sliding his slick fingers into his rear. Sebastian caught his breath, surprised at how pleasurable his touch was. His body clenched in anticipation as Nathanial’s fingers pressed and retreated, then again, his knuckles spreading him open. Nathanial was preparing him, Sebastian realized. Such consideration had been missing in the past, when he had been taken by his masters.

Sebastian relaxed, his trust in Nathanial complete, his body tight with the tension that came from pleasure, not pain.

Nathanial held Sebastian’s knees apart and press his oiled cock up against him. He glanced at him. “Ready?”

“Very.”

Nathanial pushed inside him, and as he had promised, there was no pain. Sebastian held his breath, marveling at the delight that seemed to build from deep in his belly. This was glorious!

Nathanial slid inside, only halting when he was fully lodged within. Sebastian could barely control himself – his breath was shuddering in and out and his hips giving small, involuntary thrusts. “Christ above,” Sebastian muttered, his fingers digging into the mattress.

Nathanial merely smiled. His eyes were half-closed, the brilliant blue almost hidden. He wrapped his hand around Sebastian’s cock, the hand that was coated in oil, and began to stroke. At the same time, he thrust with his own.

Sebastian closed his eyes, trying to halt the swiftly building explosion of pleasure. He wanted these sensations to last. But he was powerless to prevent the coming release. It swept him up in the sparkling, breath-snatching current, pulling him along.

With a cry that sounded hoarse, he came in a hot rush, as Nathanial’s hand squeezed and stroked. It was an astounding feeling, stealing his thoughts and holding him still for what felt like endless heart beats.

Nathanial thrust harder and faster, his own climax upon him. His jaw flexed and he groaned as he came, leaning over Sebastian to prop himself upon the bed.

For long minutes they remained there, as Sebastian listened to his frantic heartbeat slow. “That was….” He could not think of a superlative that would adequately describe his feelings.

“Yes,” Nathanial agreed, his voice low. He straightened up, his cock slipping from Sebastian’s body. “Are you hungry? Thirsty?”

“No. Why do you ask?”

“Because I fully intend to repeat that moment, several times. I won’t have you passing out for lack of food or drink.”

“Do you care if I have appointments to meet?” Sebastian asked curiously.

“Do you have appointments you care to meet, right now?” Nathanial returned.

Sebastian considered him. “Even if the King of England himself were to request my presence, I believe I would prefer to stay right here.”

Nathanial picked up the bottle of oil again. “Then we are agreed. Good.” His mouth lifted in a small smile. “Brace yourself.”

* * * * *

Twelve hours later, dressed in his new finery, Sebastian again walked the paths of the East Park, checking each group of ladies he approached to spot his quarry. He felt pleasantly drained, energetic and oddly happy. His body carried odd aches from his exertions the night before, but no pain. Every time he thought about the hours he had spent in Nathanial’s bed, his body would tighten, recalling the pleasure he had experienced.

But he needed to keep his mind on the task at hand, and this morning, that meant picking up the reins of his plan to acquire some of Lady Wandsworth’s sixty thousand pounds.

“Sebastian!” The light call came from behind him, and he turned to look. He had been moving at a pace that let him catch up with each group of strollers. Behind him, Anne was hurrying along, her hand lifting her hem just enough to let her maintain her pace. As she wore no corsetry or restrictive garments under her dress, it was possible for her to walk at a rapid pace and not tire. But she could not run, not in public, so Sebastian halted, letting her catch up.

“I see you have recovered from your disappointment of last night,” he told her.

“Oh, that? Never mind that,” she said and slipped her hand under his elbow and turned him to walk the path. “I’m glad I found you before you found Lady Wandsworth.”

“Oh?”

She gave him a smile that brought out her dimples in a very pleasing way. “You are far too suspicious,” she accused him. “I only wanted to speak to you alone.”

“You risk besmirching the reputation Lady Wandsworth believes you to have, walking with me.”

“I’ll risk it. Sebastian, you heard Nathanial talking about the Queen of France’s stolen necklace, yesterday.”

He sighed. “That silly story. I am weary of all mention of it, but women seem to find it vastly amusing.”

“The necklace is in England,” Anne said.

“So Nathanial said.”

“Of course, Nathanial would know that,” she added.

Sebastian glanced at her. “Why?” he asked, but he already knew. She had been leading him to this conclusion.

“Because Nathanial has the necklace.”

Sebastian disciplined himself not to speak and not react, until he had considered the full ramifications of this startling piece of news. “He plays a very cool game,” he remarked, remembering how Nathanial had entertained the ladies with the gossip about the necklace. He had spoken very casually.

“He has smuggled it into England to sell it,” Anne continued.

Sebastian shook his head. “No one could sell that necklace, not anywhere in the world and especially in England. It is too remarkable and too well known.”

“Not if the necklace was broken down into silver and diamonds. They could be sold for their value and all risk removed.”

“You would lose all value the heritage of the necklace provides,” Sebastian replied, thinking it through. He was not completely familiar with the purchase and sale of stolen jewelry. Stealing was not his preferred means of raising cash. However, he was knowledgeable enough to know that a piece of jewelry with a rich history was more valuable than the gems that went into it. This necklace, the Queen’s necklace, was dripping with scandal in high places.

“As you say, he would not be able to sell the necklace while it remains whole. It is too recognizable. No one would want to be saddled with an item that was being sought for across Europe by every authority in every land.” She squeezed his arm. “That is why Nathanial is looking for a quick sale. He wants to be rid of it. It is too dangerous an item to hold for long.”

“Yes, indeed it is,” Sebastian agreed. “But why are you telling me this? Nathanial knows, just as you do, that I am not wealthy. I am the last man Nathanial could consider as a potential buyer.”

Anne sighed. “I must spell this out clearly.”

“Yes, you must.”

“I want you to help me steal the necklace from Nathanial,” she said, her expression happy and charming.

Chapter Four

“You are very quiet tonight,” Nathaniel observed, as they crossed the third intersection. The theatre was close by and carriages delivering their upper class theatre patrons were thick upon the road they walked beside.

Sebastian closed off the dark thoughts plaguing him with effort and gave Nathanial a small smile. “It is nothing.”

“Has no one ever taught you the folly of lying to a liar?” Nathanial told him.

Sebastian sighed. “No, but that sounds like remarkable sense. It really is a small matter, Nathanial. I could not find Lady Wandsworth in the park this morning. I really should speak to her quite soon if I am to forward my plans.”

“Especially if you want to cut Anne off from her money as well,” Nathanial added with a smile.

They reached the final intersection before the theatre. A narrow lane ran down to the back of the theatre, giving access to the backstage for wagons and coaches.

“’ere, you!” came a gruff call from the lane. “Nathanial!”

They both turned to look down the lane. There was a rough-looking fellow with an unkempt beard and dirty face, which were all the details about the man that Sebastian could see because of the lack of light there. The man was standing a pace or so inside the lane. He beckoned with his fingers. “Ye oughtta come here,” he said. “I’ve a message for ye.”

Sebastian stayed where he was. “Is this really as obvious as it seems?” he asked softly.

Nathaniel was frowning. “I’m not entirely sure,” he murmured. He lifted his chin and spoke to the man. “Who is the message from?”

“Now, that’d be tellin’, wouldn’t it?”

Nathanial stepped into the lane and Sebastian caught at his arm. “Nathanial, no.”

“It’s alright,” Nathanial said softly, over his shoulder. “I would like to know what the message is. It might be important.”

“Delivered by a rogue like this? Don’t be stupid.”

“It will be alright,” Nathanial repeated. “Stay here. Stay out of it.” He strode toward the ruffian who melted backwards into the darkness. Sebastian moved forward, into the lane, behind Nathanial, trying to see what the lack of light was hiding.

Then the moon came out from behind a cloud and Sebastian saw that the man had halted halfway along the length of the lane. Nathanial stopped in front of him. Nathanial stood taller than him by half-a-head, but Sebastian had noticed that he stood taller than all men. The ruffian was taller than most.

“Tell me your message,” Nathaniel demanded.

The ruffian grinned. “Grab ‘im, lads.”

Two men, both equivalent in dirt and lack of grooming, stepped out of a deeply recessed doorway, behind Nathanial. They circled around either side of him and caught his elbows with both hands.

Nathanial glanced at them, then at the spokesman. “I see. It is to be like that, is it?”

“It don’t ‘ave to be,” the man said. “You just ‘ave to tell us where the necklace is.”

“Necklace?” Nathanial asked, his tone that of a puzzled man.

Sebastian caught his breath, as a wash of horror spread through him. Anne was behind this. She wanted to know the location of the necklace. “No, Nathanial! Wait!” He rushed toward them, but he was already too late. The leader curled his hands into fists, and buried them in Nathanial’s stomach.

Nathanial folded forward with a hard exhalation and the leader doubled up his fists, clenching one within the other, and hammered down on Nathanial’s exposed back.

Nathanial would have dropped to the ground, except for the hold the pair had on his arms.

Sebastian reached the fellow on the left, grabbed his arm and swung him around to face his fist, which he drove into his face, right between the eyes. From experience, he knew a blow like that, properly landed, caused so much pain it momentarily blinded the recipient.

It was a perfect punch and the man let out a yell and brought his hands up to his eyes, letting Nathanial go. He staggered, yelling incoherently.

The other drew back his upper lip in a snarling smile and reached into his pocket with one hand, just as the leader delivered another mighty blow upon Nathanial’s back. Nathanial dropped to his hands and knees, coughing.

The second companion pulled a knife from his pocket. It glittered brightly in the moonlight.

Sebastian’s chest tightened with growing fury. “Three of you and a knife against an unarmed man? Cowards, all of you.”

“Stay out of this, boy,” the leader said. “’tis not your business.”

“When you gang up against my friend, it becomes my business.” He took the three paces that brought him within reach of the fellow with the knife, feinted with his left hand, which brought the blade swinging around to defend against the move. It left the man’s chin open and Sebastian took the offered target, the knuckles of his right hand connecting with an impact that drove the man back a step. But as the man staggered back, he pin wheeled his arms, including the one holding the knife.

The knife sliced through Sebastian’s new overcoat. There was a brief, sharp sensation that flared in agony.

“Sebastian!” Nathanial yelled, sounding nothing like a man who had just taken a beating. He sounded outraged. Then he spoke again, and Sebastian understood none of it. It was a foreign-sounding tongue – not even the Italian Sebastian thought a man with a name like Aquila might know.

As Sebastian staggered back away from the flailing blade, as heat seemed to bloom in his chest, Nathanial surged to his feet, glaring around at all three of them. He appeared none the worse for the blows he had taken. “You have made a serious mistake,” he told them, his voice very calm and his face very still. But there was something in his eyes…an emotion Sebastian could not recognize for the pain in his chest was distracting him. So were his knees which had become unaccountably weak. He staggered toward the wall of the theatre and rested against it. His knees buckled and he slid down the wall to sit upon the dirt.

He pressed his hand against his chest and looked down upon it. There was a dark stain spreading over his snowy white new shirt, rising above the neck of his waistcoat as it spread.

“Oh…” he said, his voice weak.

Nathanial glanced at him. “I’ll be with you in a few moments,” he said. “Press your hand against it until I am there.”

Sebastian tried to nod, but he felt light headed and couldn’t move his chin. He lifted his hand – it took enormous effort – and pressed it against his chest. Then he pressed his other hand over the top, to hold the first in place.

Nathanial pulled his coat off and dropped it to the ground, as the three ruffians backed up deeper into the alley. They were afraid of him.

“You can run if you like,” Nathanial offered. “It won’t save you.”

The one with the knife dropped it with a clatter, then turned and ran toward the end of the alley.

Sebastian couldn’t say for sure what happened next. His vision was impaired, perhaps from the injury, and time seemed to fold in on itself, for Nathanial began to move very fast indeed, almost too fast for Sebastian to follow.

The two ruffians that had not run abruptly dropped to the ground, clutching at their throats, which were spurting blood. Then the man that had used the knife squealed, somewhere in the dark at the end of the alley. The squeal cut off abruptly.

Sebastian swallowed. He was unaccountably thirsty.

“Sebastian.” Nathanial was abruptly standing in front of him. He got to his knees, straddling one of Sebastian’s useless legs and pulled his coat open. He gave a breathy groan, looking up into the night sky. “Why did you not stay where it was safe?” he demanded.

“Because...” He wanted to explain that staying where Nathanial had left him would have been unthinkable. That he hadn’t thought. He had simply acted.

Nathanial was tugging at his shirt. The buttons scattered, one of them bouncing with a soft sound against the brick of the building at Sebastian’s back. “Let me see,” he said gently, moving Sebastian’s hands out of the way by resting them on his thighs. Sebastian wanted to protest that the blood would stain his breeches, but it remained only a thought.

Nathanial pulled the shirt front open and hissed. “You have lost a lot of blood,” he murmured. “But it isn’t a fatal cut. I just need to stop the blood from flowing.” He tapped Sebastian’s cheek, making him open his eyes. Nathanial was studying him, but the moon was at his back, and Sebastian couldn’t see his eyes properly because of it. “Do you trust me?” he asked.

What an odd question! And yet....

Sebastian forced himself to speak the word. “Yes,” he whispered, for it was true.

“Thank you.” Nathanial leaned forward and for a moment, Sebastian thought he was about to kiss him, but his lips pressed against his chest, which he had bared to the night.

Then Sebastian felt him licking the wound, which began to tingle and grow warm again. Then even warmer, until it was the hottest part of his chest. “What are you doing?” Sebastian whispered and was surprised to find the words were easier to speak.

Nathanial lifted his head a small fraction of an inch. “Healing you.” He studied his chest carefully, as if the dark was no barrier to his investigation. “It is done.”

The heat was dissipating. Sebastian blinked. “Healing?”

“Closing the wound, so that it no longer bleeds,” Nathanial told him. “To fully heal, you will need to recover from the blood you have lost. That will take rest, food and time.”

Sebastian let his head roll back against the wall. “I am tired,” he agreed.

“Then it is time to get you home,” Nathanial told him, and lifted him to his feet.

Sebastian swayed and clutched at him to maintain his balance. “God above!”

“And his son in heaven,” Nathanial agreed, sounding amused. “Come, my foolish one. You need to sleep. When you have recovered, we will talk.”

* * * * *

There was no disorientation, this time. The room and the big bed had become familiar in the space of a day. Sebastian lay blinking up at the decorative edging on the ceiling, listening to the quiet sounds on the street outside, muffled by the closed window. There was very little traffic passing over the cobbles, and the street itself shed no light through the windows, which meant it was late enough for the lamps along the street to have been extinguished for the night. That meant it was past two in the morning.

There was a soft sound in the room beyond the door, which was closed. It sounded like Nathanial was still awake. Sebastian rolled onto his side, then remembered the wound. He looked down at his naked chest, then sat up properly and examined it as carefully as he could in the dark.

His chest was completely unmarked.

He remembered Nathanial carrying him home. His feet had been close to useless, but even carrying his full weight had not seemed to tax Nathanial. Once home, he had laid him on the bed, stripped him of his clothes, and washed away the blood, all in silence.

Sebastian had been very tired by the time Nathanial pulled the covers over him, carried the candlestick out with him and closed the door. He hadn’t moved from the spot where Nathanial had left him.

Now he reviewed the moments in the theatre lane once more.

When you have recovered, we will talk, Nathanial had said. He had anticipated Sebastian’s many questions, then.

Sebastian looked around for the dressing robe he had been borrowing, but there were a pair of breeches hanging over the end of the bed, and nothing else. He put them on and buttoned them. They were tight about the waist, and an inch too long, but they covered him.

He stepped out into the main room.

Nathanial was sitting in the armless chair closest to the fire, reading by the light of the flames. The big book was spread across his knees. He was wearing the robe that Sebastian had borrowed. He got to his feet as Sebastian halted at the edge of the big square carpet that lay in front of the fireplace.

“You look better,” Nathanial judged, “although I imagine you are quite hungry now.”

“And thirsty,” Sebastian agreed. He held up his hand as Nathanial made to move toward the table, which was behind Sebastian. “If I may ask a question, first?”

Nathanial gave him an odd look. “Just one?”

Sebastian touched his chest. “What did you do to me? How did you do it?”

“Ah, not just one, then.” Nathanial turned and picked up the big book. The leather covering it was carved and painted, and the hinges were brass. “Have you heard of Guillaume de Palerme?”

Sebastian glanced at the book. “William of Palerme? It is a romance, isn’t it?”

“Set in the court of the Emperor of Rome, yes. It is a fanciful story and quite untrue, but the idea of werewolves is very entertaining.”

Sebastian frowned. “I suppose. I have not read it. It sounds too melodramatic for my tastes.”

“You do not like flights of fancy such as these?”

“I do not understand what this has to do with….” Sebastian halted as he coupled up the idea of fantasy and his original question. “Magic?” he asked, his voice croaky with stress. “You are telling me you used magic on me?”

Nathanial took a deep breath. “Of a kind,” he agreed. “A very, very old kind.”

Sebastian wanted to tell him that he was addled, except that he could touch his chest and feel for himself that something had healed him. Nathanial had done that.

“What did you do? How did you do it?” Another thought struck him. “It wasn’t my eyes failing me, was it? You really were moving faster than I could see.”

“Yes, I was,” Nathanial agreed softly.

“You were untouched by their blows…” Sebastian added.

“Yes.”

Sebastian’s heart began to thrum hard. It seemed he could feel his blood thundering through him. He felt as if he should be afraid, but there was too much he did not understand.

“I can hear your heart galloping,” Nathanial told him. “I am scaring you. That was not my intention.”

“I’m not afraid,” Sebastian told him, although the idea that Nathanial could hear his heart from across the room was also strange and fantastical. “I just do not understand.”

Nathanial trod across the carpet, stopping just in front of him. “I am a vampire, Sebastian. I have been a vampire for a very long time.” He opened his mouth, and Sebastian watched two long and very sharply pointed teeth slowly descend, to stop with their points a fingernail width below his normal teeth.

Sebastian leaned closer to study them. “May I…touch them?”

Nathanial’s eyes widened. For the first time since Sebastian had met him, he looked uncertain. “I…yes, I suppose.”

“Is that inappropriate?” Sebastian asked.

Nathanial gave a small laugh. “It is a question that I have never been asked before. Most humans are afraid of my kind.”

“You are not human?” Sebastian asked.

“Not anymore. Not since I was made.”

“Then you were human, once?”

“A long time ago.”

Sebastian cocked his head. “So, what is a vampire?”

Nathanial’s extra teeth withdrew and disappeared. Sebastian decided he would learn more about them, later. He looked at Nathanial expectantly.

“You had better sit down,” Nathanial told him. “Perhaps you should eat, while I talk. This will take some time.”

“You will not eat with me?”

“I do not eat,” Nathanial told him.

“Then how do you thrive?”

“We take in blood,” he said gravely. He was watching Sebastian carefully. “Human blood.”

“There are more of you?”

Nathanial looked surprised again. “You keep defying my expectations, Sebastian. Does the idea of my drinking your blood not disturb you?”

Sebastian shrugged. “You might have done that at any time in the last day or so, but you have not. You have…well, you know what we have been doing together as well as I.”

“Sex,” Nathanial said flatly.

Sebastian could feel his cheeks heating. “Yes,” he agreed, “and I don’t think you’re such a hypocrite that you would…have sex…with the man you intend to feed from. I don’t know how things work with vampires, but what I know of you as a man tells me it isn’t possible.”

“Thank you,” Nathanial said softly.

“Why?”

“For attributing me with human values even when you know I am not human. It has been quite some time since I have been thought of so highly.” He stepped out of the way, and waved toward the table. “Sit and eat while I tell you a tale.”

Chapter Five

Sebastian had eaten his fill and moved from the table to the sofa by the fire, yet he had more questions. Everything Nathanial told him budded another three or four questions, and every answer Nathanial provided added a few more.

The vampire culture, like humans’, was old and complex. Nathanial was also old, although he had seemed coy about mentioning exactly how many years he had existed. His age, however, explained one other thing.

“The language you spoke in the lane,” Sebastian said. “I didn’t recognize it. Was that your birth tongue?”

“It was Latin.”

“You are Roman?” It seemed a very strange question to ask someone of the eighteenth century, but most of Sebastian’s questions and Nathanial’s answers had been the stuff of fantasy.

Nathanial shook his head. “I come from the land that eventually became Italy, but Rome was a crumbling ruin when I was born.”

“I do not understand why you remain hidden,” Sebastian said finally, for this had been puzzling him all along. “Why not tell the world that you exist?”

Nathanial’s expression was wise and sad, making him look as old as the centuries he had hinted he had lived. “Humans have proved over and over again that they cannot tolerate a competitive race – a dominant society will destroy another that it thinks might be as strong. It subjugates a weaker one. How do you think humans would react to a species that is more powerful, faster, and lives far longer than any human?”

Sebastian sighed. Nathanial spoke truly. Human history bore him out. “It is sad that you must hide away, but I cannot dispute the wisdom of remaining secret. Perhaps, one day in the future, things might change.”

“Perhaps,” Nathanial agreed. “Humans have grown steadily more civilized as time goes on. That is for the future, though.”

Nathanial was standing by the fire once more. It was as if the flames comforted him, although Sebastian had learned that Nathanial didn’t feel heat or cold the way humans did. He was still wearing the robe and his feet were bare.

“Come here,” Sebastian told him and pressed his hand against the sofa cushions next to him.

Nathanial’s eyes narrowed, but he moved slowly forward. “What do you have in mind?” he asked, his voice low.

“I would have thought that someone with your superior skills and centuries of wisdom would have deduced for yourself what I intend.”

Nathanial settled on the sofa, but he wasn’t as close as Sebastian would have preferred. “Are you sure, Sebastian?”

Sebastian curled his hand around the lapel of Nathanial’s robe and drew him closer. “Why would you ask that?”

“I am a vampire. Many find that off-putting.”

“You were a vampire when we...had sex. Before. Nothing has changed except that I know more about you now.”

Nathanial smiled. “You really are an extraordinary man.” His smile grew. “And you simply must get used to words like ‘sex.’ I have a few more that I must teach you, too.”

“Latin words?”

Nathanial slid his hand around Sebastian’s hips, his fingers stroking the flesh above his breeches. “Anglo-Saxon words,” he replied and kissed him.

* * * * *

Nathanial was stroking his chest while Sebastian spoke. The light in the room was steadily growing as dawn drew closer. They were lying beneath the covers for the pre-dawn air was chilly.

“Life had been very simple and so very privileged, until I was thirteen. Then my father found out – I still don’t know how – but he learned that I was not his son. I was a bastard my mother had passed off as his. My father—I should say the earl—tossed both of us off the estate with only the clothes we were wearing, and ordered the staff to ensure we did not return. We were run off.” He recalled the cold winter day, and standing upon the road that led to the gates of the estate, while John the Bailiff stood at the gate with his legs spread and his big hunting rifle cradled in his arms. The full depth of the betrayal had not made itself completely felt on that bewildering and frightening day. As he grew older and looked back on that day and his life before it, Sebastian had understood better the choices the earl had made.

“We started walking and eventually found a village that could offer us shelter. It was a village that did not know who we were, and that was the beginning of our new life. My mother had no skills other than embroidery, but we had no money for the linens and threads she would need to create anything. So I found work as a farm hand and learned as quickly as I could.” His hands had blistered and bled for a month and his mother had cried over them, but she had sent him out the door the next morning anyway because she had known just as he had that money brought them food and would let her work, too.

“It was a brutal winter,” Sebastian said. “My mother died only a few weeks later. They told me it was an infection of the chest, but she had said nothing about being ill. Her death was a complete surprise to me.”

“She didn’t want you to worry any more than you were,” Nathanial said quietly.

“I think she gave up,” Sebastian said. “She was high born, and had never worked in her life. Scrabbling for farthings and wondering where the next meal was to come from...she couldn’t stand it. All I was left with was this.” He lifted the chain from around his neck and showed Nathanial the lady’s ring hanging from it.

Nathanial raised a brow. “I wondered what the ring meant to you. I see, now.”

Sebastian drew in a breath. “Then I met Einrí Fitzgerald.” He paused, wondering if he could speak of this.

“Fitzgerald was a swindler?” Nathanial asked, his hand growing still.

Sebastian nodded. “He...liked my looks.” He looked at Nathanial.

“Ahh...” Nathanial rolled onto his back and looked up at the ceiling. “Your first introduction to the ways of buggers and thieves. No wonder you were so wary, with me. I assume he was not at all considerate when he took you.”

“I did not know there was a gentle way to it, until I met you,” Sebastian replied.

Nathanial drew a breath and let it out. “There are some humans whose hearts I would happily tear from their chests.” He closed his eyes. “I will spare you the rest of the telling, Sebastian. I can see it all from here. He took you in, taught you his swindling ways, and in exchange, he used you whenever the mood took him. Is that how it went?”

“Close enough,” Sebastian said, trying to keep his voice even. “Einrí was a rough-as-guts Irishman, so his swindles were limited. But because of my accent and my manners, he could dream up swindles that targeted the upper class and their rich purses, using me as his entry pass. Because of me, he tripled his earnings every year, above what he had been able to gather before we met.”

“He is not here in Southampton,” Nathanial pointed out. “Did you kill him?”

Sebastian found he could smile at the jest. “He tried to fool the wrong man. I was seventeen by then and just about as tall as I am now. Einrí met what he thought was a gentleman, which he judged purely by his manners and speech, which is ironic when he used my accent and my manners for exactly the same thing.”

“The gentleman was a fellow swindler,” Nathanial guessed.

“He was a gentleman in fact. Lord Rueben Monday Montgomery lost his lands and his fortune because he liked to gamble and had risked it all on a hand that he thought was unbeatable. Rueben knew more about schemes and plans and tricks than anyone I have ever met. I suspect you know more, Nathanial, but you’ve had time to collect them. What I learned from Rueben was how to use a victim’s wants and pleasures against them. His swindles nearly always worked and it was only bad luck that caused the occasional scheme to go astray. I learned as much as I could from him. He used...well, sex, as one of his tools. The seduction of women and men, to lull them into thinking you could be trusted....I found it ridiculously easy,” he confessed.

“With your looks, and your manners and speech, that is not difficult to believe,” Nathanial replied. “You eventually parted, though,” he added.

“Reuben liked to travel. He had been everywhere, and for ten years we plied our trade around Europe and the east, as far as Constantinople. We never did go to Rome, though. I suggested it occasionally, but I think Rueben was a known thief there, for he refused to even consider Rome, or anywhere on the Italian peninsula. But after ten years of it, I wanted to return to England. Reuben did not, so he set me up with a stake of my own, and I arrived in Dover four years ago. I have been on my own since then.”

“You were in dire straits when we met. Were you just down on your luck, Sebastian? I would have thought, with such experience and skills, you would be very well-heeled indeed.”

“I grew tired of it. I didn’t simply want to return to England. I wanted to stop it all, just for a while. I wanted to stop and think and spend time being just me. But eventually, the money started to run out. I waited far too long because I was so reluctant to return to the life.” Sebastian shrugged. “But I know nothing else, and I do not have an income, so I did eventually return. Lady Wandsworth was to be my first victim.”

Nathanial pushed himself up so he was resting on one elbow and looked at him. “You know you can be yourself, with me.”

“I know that now,” Sebastian agreed. “It is...”

“Refreshing?” Nathanial suggested.

“A relief,” Sebastian told him, and kissed him.

It was only later, when they were bathing and dressing that Sebastian realized that nowhere in the night had either of them raised the question about the necklace and why the thugs had pressed Nathanial for its location.

Sebastian thought of Anne and her request that he help her steal it from Nathanial and was glad the subject had been put aside in favor of discussing Nathanial’s true nature. He was more than happy for it to remain unspoken forever.

* * * * *

Lady Wandsworth’s parlor was an ode to very expensive and very bad taste. It was dark, for the drapes remained closed over the windows, and the carpet smelled and was badly in need of beating. There was only one sofa, which the lady herself used, while other guests propped themselves upon hard, upright chairs, balancing their teacups upon their knees, with no place left to perch plates.

But Sebastian had been in far worse places, and this room at least was warm and held no drafts to chill the ankles. The tea was surprisingly good. He wrapped himself in patience, waiting for the moment when he could further his plans with Mercy Wandsworth. The portfolio of his false friend’s considerable business affairs in Spain was sitting in his coat pocket, ready to be produced at the proper moment. Nathanial had proved to be a remarkable forger.

The doors to the salon opened and were held aside. Anne Beecham glided into the room, a delicate-looking maiden with her eyes downcast, and her waist cinched in to a hand’s width, under the pretty cotton dress.

Anne gave Lady Wandsworth a smile and a gracious and modest nod of her head, but Mercy was busy talking to her pair of friends, and merely lifted her hand in acknowledgement. Anne did not seem to be offended by the dismissal, which had been identical to the way Mercy had waved off Sebastian. Instead, she moved around the chairs and settled on the empty one next to Sebastian, folding her hands on her lap.

“Have you thought about my proposition?” she asked him softly.

“When I have been able to spare a thought, yes,” Sebastian said truthfully.

“Did you arrive at a decision?”

“There was no need to make a decision,” Sebastian replied.

She looked surprised. “Why not?” she asked.

Sebastian gave the tiniest shrug. “Because I do not believe you. I do not believe the necklace is in England and I most certainly do not believe that Nathanial has it. He would be far more circumspect in his behavior if he did have such a notorious and costly jewel.”

Anne’s expression did not change an inch. She sat staring ahead, her face sweet and innocent and her posture that of a modest young woman. After a moment of contemplative silence, she gave a small nod. “You are quite right,” she said. “He would most likely behave differently if he really did have the Queen’s stolen necklace.”

“Thank you,” Sebastian said dryly.

“I lied when I said he had the necklace.”

“Obviously.”

“I lied, but not the way you think. The necklace Nathanial has is a duplicate, made of glass.”

Nathanial, who was so good at forging things. Sebastian’s chest tightened. It had been Nathanial’s idea to create business documents that would suggest to Lady Wandsworth that his friend’s business affairs in Spain were legitimate.

Sebastian tried to ignore the suspicion curling through him and instead sifted carefully through Anne’s words, looking for falsehood, for anything that would proclaim Nathanial’s innocence. The affair of the stolen necklace was a sensation across Europe. There were people on trial for their lives, right now in Paris. Nathanial could not possibly be a part of such an international conspiracy.

But he has the experience and the skill to manage such a delicate matter.

Sebastian shook his head. “Why would you tell me you wanted to steal the thing, if you knew it to be a copy?”

“For the same reason that Nathanial had the copy made. I want to sell it to someone who doesn’t know the difference between diamonds and glass.” She waited while the butler handed her a teacup and saucer and filled it from the big silver teapot he carried. Once he had moved out of earshot, she said, “I have a fool who wants the necklace. He will pay five thousand for the thing.”

“For a copy with no real value?” Sebastian asked in disbelief.

“It has extreme value to the person who thinks it is real. Every day the newspapers report about the trial, the necklace grows in importance in the eyes of the beholder. You know this as well as I do.”

He could not dispute her. But he could deny her. “I will not help you steal from Nathanial,” he said flatly. “You must find another way if you intend to do this.”

“You will not help me, but you have not told Nathanial what I plan. Does that mean you believe me?”

Sebastian kept his teeth together. To answer at all would make him feel like he had betrayed Nathanial.

Anne smiled as she sipped her tea. “He intends to saddle you with the necklace, you know.”

Sebastian’s heart squeezed. “I am not nearly rich enough to buy that bauble, even if it was real. I am not Nathanial’s target.”

“Oh, he’s not going to sell it to you. He’s going to give it to you.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Think, Sebastian!” she whispered harshly. “The French police – the Marechaussee – will be turning England upside-down, looking for the real necklace. Queen Marie's reputation hangs in the balance, so they are determined to the point of obsession to find the necklace, no matter what obstacles present themselves. What do you think they might do, if they were to find that necklace in your possession?”

“The Marechaussee will be able to tell it is a copy. They’ll bring in experts to determine it is genuine and will know immediately it is not.” But his heart was thundering unhappily, anyway.

“And why would an honest man want a copy of the most notorious jewelry in Europe?” Anne asked. “You will be detained and questioned until your gums bleed. Then, if they are feeling kindly, you will be thrown into the Bastille and not decapitated for whatever crimes they might imagine you have committed. The Marechaussee want to produce results to show their queen. They want someone they can point to and say ‘he is to blame’. Nathanial is not a stupid man, Sebastian. He knows that to be found in possession of that necklace would be the equivalent of crying aloud his guilt. He is looking for a way to rid himself of it and you are the perfect victim, with your career as a professional swindler.”

It made horrible, nausea-inducing sense. Sebastian swallowed as coppery-tasting saliva filled his mouth. His temples prickled with cold sweat and he wiped at them with a shaking hand.

“I do not believe you,” he said weakly. “You have not been in communication with Nathanial since we met – not alone with him. You could not possibly know what he plans, even if he does have the necklace.”

Anne smiled. “I was there last night,” she said flatly. “Very late. You were sleeping. Nathanial told me of his plans for you, all of them.”

Sebastian bit back a moan, forcing himself to silence.

Anne’s smile grew larger. She tilted her head as she looked at him. “We had sex,” she added. “It was very good. Afterwards, he put on that robe of his and saw me to the door. He arranged another meeting, too.” Her eyes narrowed. “You were never going to be enough to satisfy him.”

Nathanial had been wearing the robe when Sebastian had seen him, just after awakening.

Sebastian held up his hand, just enough for her to see it. “Stop,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “Please, just stop.”

“I can sell the necklace,” she said, “then you will no longer be useful to him and you can go back to your life. Nathanial asked me to meet him in his rooms tonight. That is when I will steal the necklace.”

Chapter Six

Three days later.

It was Sunday morning, and the park was very busy, with families strolling and taking in the air. Sebastian walked with a shortened gate to accommodate Mercy Wandsworth’s tiny steps. Her hand was curled about his elbow, tugging downwards as she walked. She was scanning the title deeds and contracts held in her other hand, reading with an absorbed air that told him she knew far more about the intricacies of business than she liked to pretend. It didn’t worry him. The documents were very good forgeries.

“Lady Wandsworth!” came the call from behind them. “A moment, please!”

Sebastian stiffened. He knew the voice.

But Mercy Wandsworth halted and looked over her shoulder. “Oh, dear,” she said, very quietly. “I do hope this won’t be unpleasant.” For Nathanial was striding toward them.

Three days ago, Mercy had invited Sebastian to dine at her house, an invitation he had accepted, only to find that Anne was no longer living there. It took some delicate questions to elicit the facts. Beatrice had returned to her family home near York, in disgrace because she had failed to marry. Her engagement to Lord Smythington had been abruptly broken off, with no explanations from Smythington.

Anne’s absence had been a relief for Sebastian, and he had doubled his efforts to win Mercy’s confidence. He tried not to assume anything about Anne’s departure. Certainly, he did not linger over the most obvious conclusion; that she had stolen the necklace as promised, and left Southampton with all haste after selling it to her buyer.

So why was Nathanial here, now? It didn’t make sense. Like Mercy, Sebastian also hoped that the next few minutes would pass peacefully and quickly. As Mercy had halted, he was forced to turn and face Nathanial as he strode up.

Nathanial lifted his hat as he drew closer. “Lady Wandsworth, I am pleased to find you here. I had hoped I would come across you in the park this morning.”

“Then you consider this encounter more fortunate than do I,” Mercy replied, her voice a little cold. “Beatrice is no longer a guest in my house, Lord Smythington. You have broken her heart and besmirched her reputation. I do hope you consider your reasons for such a callous act well worth it?”

Nathanial blinked and for a moment, Sebastian thought he was genuinely puzzled. Then he gave Mercy a stiff bow. “The circumstances warranted a broken engagement, Lady Wandsworth. I discovered that Beatrice’s reputation was sullied long ago. I did not seek you out this morning with retribution in mind. Beatrice’s departure was a relief to me.”

Mercy’s mouth dropped open and her eyes widened. Then they narrowed again as she considered him. “Then why do you wish to see me?”

“Actually, I was wondering...would you mind losing your companion for a moment while I speak to him? I promise we will leave you unattended for only a few moments, then we will both escort you home to make up for the desertion. Is that agreeable to you, my lady?”

Say no! Sebastian begged her in his mind.

“Both of you? Why, that would be delightful, Lord Smythington. If only you promise to tell me more about France.”

Sebastian’s heart sank. He glared at Nathanial, making no attempt to hide his feelings. “You should ask him about Italy, my lady. That is his true expertise.”

Nathanial’s expression didn’t change. “He exaggerates, of course. I know Rome a little.” He picked up Mercy’s hand, the one she had untucked from Sebastian’s elbow, and bowed over it. “We will return to your side quite soon,” he promised. Then he glanced at Sebastian. It was the first time he had looked at him directly since he had halted in front of them. “Richard, would you mind stepping over here, please?”

“I would, rather,” Sebastian said shortly.

“Nevertheless, I insist.” His expression was polite enough, but there was a glitter in Nathanial’s blue eyes that told Sebastian he would resort to physically hauling him out of Lady Mercy’s earshot if he had to.

Sebastian sighed and moved off the footpath, onto the close-cropped lawn. Nathanial was a pace ahead, and halted only when they were thirty yards from the path where Mercy stood watching them curiously.

Nathanial rounded on him. “I don’t care about Anne’s abrupt departure, but you...”

Sebastian stared at him, puzzled. He didn’t care about Anne? Was Nathanial really that good a liar? “You care nothing about the necklace?” he demanded.

“I care that you failed to meet our last appointment and have been missing for three days since then. Damn it to hell, Sebastian! You left no word! Not a single explanation!”

Sebastian was confused and puzzled. A dozen responses occurred to him. As always, every time Nathanial spoke, it only raised more questions. “Why do you even care?” he asked at last.

It was Nathanial’s turn to stare. His hand curled into a fist and Sebastian belatedly realized that he was not nearly as calm and collected as he had first appeared.

“You really must ask why I care?” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

Sebastian held up his hand. “Don’t,” he said flatly. “Do not carry on with this pretense. You are a liar, a thief and a swindler and your morals are as loose as hers. Or mine -- but I’m the victim this time, aren’t I?” He grimaced. “Anne understood your character far better than I did, but I can see it clearly now. My usefulness is at an end, Nathanial. There is no need to play the wounded lover. There is no need to knot any trailing threads. Anne took care of that by giving me the truth.”

“What truth would that be?” Nathanial asked, his voice very low.

Sebastian threw out his hands. “The necklace!” he said, fighting to keep his voice low so his words would not travel. “You were going to foist that unwelcome piece of fakery onto me, then let me hang for the crime.”

Nathanial simply looked at him. His anger, or whatever emotion had been boiling inside him, was gone. Then, finally, he stirred, his feet shifting. “I see,” he said, glancing over to where Mercy stood waiting. “Well, then.” There was a note of finality in his tone. He looked back at Sebastian. “Where are you staying?” he asked quietly.

“That is most certainly none of your business.”

Nathanial shook his head. “You’re curling up on park benches again,” he said flatly. Then; “My rooms are paid for until the end of the month. The landlord has the key. Why don’t you use them? I certainly don’t need them. Not anymore.”

A cold, invisible hand squeezed Sebastian’s heart, slowing it and making it hurt. “You will not?” He swallowed. “You’re leaving Southampton,” he concluded.

Nathanial inclined his head. “We must play out this charade with Mercy Wandsworth,” he said stiffly. “But after we have returned her safely home, I will bother you no longer.”

Nathanial turned away, back toward Mercy.

Sebastian wanted to throw out his hand and halt him, but Mercy would see the telltale movement. “Just like that?” he demanded, his voice hoarse. “You would leave...without trying to defend yourself?”

Nathanial spun to face him. “There is no defense I could give that you would believe. As you pointed out, I am a liar. You have tried and sentenced me. There is nothing I can say in return. So I will not.” He did not say the words with anger, or any emotion that Sebastian could detect. He simply spoke them.

“Let’s get Mercy home,” Nathanial said, his voice still flat and lifeless. “Then we can both put this behind us.”

Sebastian watched him walk slowly back to the footpath and offer his elbow to Mercy. Then he forced himself to follow.

The next forty minutes were the longest of his life. Once Mercy was safely behind her front door and the butler had closed it behind her, Sebastian turned to face Nathanial for the last time.

He was gone. The spot upon the pavement where he had been standing was quite empty.

* * * * *

Sebastian thanked the landlord, a Mr. Reginald Smith, one last time before he managed to close the door on him. Then he turned to look around the familiar room, his gut squeezing. Why had he come here?

Because you are sleeping on park benches again. A lack of money outbid conscience and morals, any day.

He tossed the iron key onto the bureau where Nathanial had stored the wine. The bureau was most likely empty, now. He would look later. Perhaps.

There was a knock on the door and Sebastian rolled his eyes. Mr. Smith was a talker. A rambling talker. What had he forgotten to tell him? Sebastian pulled the door open with an impatient yank.

The man on the other side was not Smith. He was a short fellow with black, curly hair and cheerful brown eyes.

“Monsieur Aquila?” he enquired, his accent strong.

“There is no one here by that name,” Sebastian replied, his thoughts racing. A man with a French accent looking for Nathanial could only mean someone had traced his journey from Paris. “And you are?”

“Who I am is not of importance, no? If you are not Nathanial Aquila, you should not care. May I step inside for a moment?”

“I think not,” Sebastian replied and went to close the door. The man shot out his hand and the door thumped against it. “Hey!” Sebastian said indignantly.

“I did not properly introduce myself,” the man said, stepping through the doorway, forcing Sebastian to back up. The door shut behind him. “I am Monsieur Christophe Cloutier, of the Marechaussee. You know this name?”

“No,” Sebastian lied. “I’ve never heard of it.”

“As a friend of Monsieur Aquila, I suspect you know the name very well.”

“He is no friend of mine,” Sebastian said flatly.

“Then you do know him,” Cloutier said and smiled. “I thought you might.”

Sebastian sighed and pulled the bureau drawer open. Inside were three fat, short flasks of wine, all of them sealed, almost as if they were waiting for him. He let out a silent sigh and pulled one out. The knife for cutting the seal was still sitting on the top of the bureau, resting on a silver tray.

He busied himself with cutting the seal away.

“You might be able to assist me,” Cloutier added, “as I ‘oped Monsieur Aquila might. There is a lady that Monsieur Aquila is acquainted with. You may know her. Miss Anne Beecham.”

Sebastian shrugged and poured himself a glass. “The name isn’t familiar.” He took a deep swallow of the ruby liquid.

“She has been using the name Beatrice while she was in Southampton,” Cloutier said.

Sebastian thought it through. If Cloutier had spoken to Mercy Wandsworth, then the connection between them would have been confirmed. If not, it would only be a matter of time before he did speak with her.

“I know a young lady called Beatrice,” Sebastian confirmed, swirling the wine around the glass carefully. “She is pleasant enough. What is your interest in her?”

Cloutier nodded. “Would it surprise you to know that this Anne Beecham is a most successful thief? She is wanted for questioning in Paris and here in England.”

“You came all the way to Southampton for a thief?” Sebastian asked.

“Miss Beecham is not an ordinary thief.” Cloutier tugged the fronts of his coat closer together. “She stole a necklace of incalculable worth and hurried to England to have it broken down into over three thousand diamonds, which she will sell off at nothing close to their true value.”

Sebastian stared at Cloutier, his wine forgotten. “Anne had the necklace?”

“Indeed,” Cloutier confirmed. “You must understand, Monsieur, this necklace is a most precious belonging of France’s. Its disappearance is causing embarrassment of the most abject kind, all the way as high as the throne itself.”

Sebastian sank down onto the nearest chair and pushed the wine glass across the table, his thirst gone. “Anne had the necklace,” he repeated, familiarizing himself with that fact.

“I see you know something of this matter, then,” Cloutier said, sounding satisfied.

Sebastian looked up at him. “The necklace that Anne had...it was the real one? It wasn’t a copy?”

Cloutier frowned. “Monsieur, are you at all familiar with the style and beauty of this necklace?”

Sebastian shook his head. “It was just gossip in the newspapers. I paid it no mind at all.”

Cloutier reached inside his coat and pulled out a sheet of paper and held it out to him. There was an engraving printed on it, of a woman wearing a necklace. The necklace itself was a complex pattern of ropes and pendants, each of them made from thickly clustered diamonds. Each rope was at least an inch wide. The pendants at the end of each rope were single diamonds the size of his thumbnail, surrounded by even more diamonds.

Sebastian stared at the image, amazement filtering through his stunned mind. “No one could copy this,” he said to himself. “It would take half a lifetime.”

“Indeed,” Cloutier agreed, taking the picture back.

Anger stirred in him. Sebastian looked Cloutier squarely in the eyes. “She told me Nathanial had a copy of the necklace. That she was going to steal it from him and sell it to another as the real thing.”

“Nathanial Aquila?” Cloutier reached into his coat again and pulled out a letter which had been unsealed and unfolded. “’e is the reason I came to England – as soon as I got ‘is letter.”

Sebastian squeezed the edge of the table, holding himself steady. “He wrote to you?”

“’e said ‘e suspected Mademoiselle Anne ‘ad the necklace and was trying to rid ‘erself of it in any way she could.” Cloutier lifted the letter again. “A most astute observation by M. Aquila. A necklace so remarkable as this one would not be easy to sell, when everyone in the world knows it is stolen.”

“Indeed,” Sebastian echoed weakly. “You should know that she has gone. She left Southampton three days ago. I presume she took the necklace with her, as she did not foist it upon me, which was her plan, I now realize.”

Cloutier considered him gravely. “You do not know where she ‘as gone?”

“She told a mutual friend she was going back to York.”

“You do not believe that, do you?” Cloutier asked.

“I would look in Land’s End,” Sebastian replied dryly. “It is the other end of the country from York.”

Cloutier nodded again, pushing the letter back into his jacket. “Then she is boxed in. She cannot go back to France and all the waterways out of England are being watched. We will find her,” he said confidently.

Sebastian simply nodded.

Cloutier considered him and his expression grew warmer. “Do not feel too badly about being duped by this one, monsieur. She has fooled some of the greatest men in my country and yours.”

“I take little comfort in that.”

Cloutier smiled. “I will leave you now. I thank you for your candor, M. Worthington.”

“You have known who I am all along?” Sebastian asked. “You knew I was not Nathanial.”

Cloutier’s eyes twinkled with good cheer. “I met the landlord as I was climbing the stairs. That one, ‘e is a chatty man.” He lifted his hand in a graceful wave of farewell, and opened the door, stepped out and shut it very quietly behind him.

Sebastian stared at the door. There was something Cloutier had just said. Something he had not properly heard or understood the significance of those words.

Then he had it. He shot to his feet. “The landlord!” he told the empty room.

Chapter Seven

Edinburgh. Three weeks later.

The Excelsior Gentlemen’s Club lay in the heart of Edinburgh, almost at the foot of the castle, on King’s Stables Road. Perhaps because of its royal observers, the club was one of the most exclusive in the kingdom. Acquiring a membership required high connections, for one had to be sponsored before a membership could be considered.

It had taken Sebastian two weeks of expensive brandy and cigars, and careful diplomacy to earn the invitation he needed but finally, he was inside the red carpeted salons, with their wood-paneled walls and hushed tones. Cigar smoke was thick in the air, and everywhere, there was the soft shuffle and flap of cards.

He finally shrugged off his host after three rounds of whist, by saying he needed to stretch himself. He made a slow circuit of the salons, hiding his impatience and the need to hurry.

Nathanial was in the smallest salon, and was one of the players sitting at the round table. By the number of spectators standing about the table, watching the game with absorbed attention, and by the number of coins in small mounds in front of some the players, this was a high stakes game played between skilled opponents. The pile in front of Nathanial was the largest.

Nathanial had not changed, but then, Sebastian knew that beyond the most superficial adjustments to his hair and clothing, Nathanial could not change.

But still he found himself examining Nathanial closely, looking for differences. For signs that recently, he had suffered. His face was familiar and comforting. Sebastian breathed deeply, as his chest tightened.

The player next to Nathanial, a portly fellow with a very red face, shook his head. No bid.

Nathanial stirred and looked around the table at his fellow players. He was relaxed and looked like he had complete confidence in the hand he held. “Gentlemen,” he began, then his gaze came upon Sebastian and he fell silent.

Sebastian gave him a small smile.

Nathanial straightened and put his cards down on the table. “Gentlemen, I must retire from the game.”

The observers standing about the table stirred and murmured among themselves. The fellow to Nathanial’s right blustered. “Damn it, man, there’s two hundred guineas on the table!”

“The club rules insist you must forfeit your winnings if you retire early,” another added pompously.

Nathanial nodded. “Take them and be welcome.” He pushed the pile into the middle of the table and stood up. “I am quite certain a player with a sizeable enough stake can be found to take my place.” He nodded to them. “It has been my pleasure, gentlemen. I bid you a good evening.” He flipped a coin to the waiter standing by.

Sebastian didn’t wait any longer. He made his way back to the doors of the salon and stepped out and Nathanial moved into the hall just behind him. “There are some private salons on the top floor. Come.”

They climbed to the third floor where the smoke was absent and the air was cooler. It was a refreshing change. The private salons were smaller, with room for a sofa, a card table and chairs. There were two small tables to either side of the sofa and some fine landscapes on the walls.

Nathanial closed the door, then turned the key, locking it.

Sebastian’s heart was racing as he faced him. He rested a hand on the cloth over the card table, not quite propping himself up. “It is very good to see you.”

Nathanial was frowning. “How did you find me?”

“The landlord. Smith,” Sebastian said. “You gave him instructions to forward your mail.”

“Of course,” Nathanial said. “It’s always the small things that you overlook.” He pulled at the lace at his cuffs, straightening it. “Why are you here, Sebastian?”

Sebastian had been anticipating this question. In fact, he had spent the last three weeks playing over this potential moment in his mind. In none of those scenarios, did he ever imagine Nathanial would be as disinterested as he appeared right now. Angry, perhaps. Amused. Touched, or perhaps even understanding.

Uncertain of the wisdom of what he was about to do, Sebastian took a deep breath and launched himself into his explanation. That, too, had been long rehearsed. “I was wrong, Nathanial. I was abysmally and stupidly wrong. Anne had the necklace. But then, you knew that all along. I didn’t—”

“How did you learn that?” Nathanial asked, interrupting him.

“The letter you wrote—”

“Cloutier came? He came to England?” Nathanial asked sharply.

“Yes, but Anne had already left. He told me everything, Nathanial. He made me understand how blind I have been.”

Nathanial considered him for a moment. “You weren’t blind,” he said. “You were duped. I did warn you, didn’t I, that Anne was very, very good.”

“She adjusted her scheme to fit around me like a glove,” Sebastian replied. “I’ve had time to think it through now. Anne must have been sizing Lady Wandsworth up as a potential victim to dump the necklace upon. Mercy is crooked, as you said, and would be drawn into a scheme involving a necklace worth a fortune because of the money it could raise. Then I came along, and you and Anne unveiled me as a fellow swindler, and Anne shifted her sights onto me. I must have looked easier to fool than Mercy.”

Nathanial gave him a stiff smile. “I think it had more to do with you being a man. Even if she thought you impossible to break, she would have tried. Anne likes challenges.”

“Having the necklace was too much of a challenge, even for her,” Sebastian said. “Once the trial started and all the newspapers began to talk about it, she knew she could not sell it for what it was. With the French police investigating in England, she didn’t have time to have it broken down and then sell the diamonds. She cut her losses and looked for someone she could give it to. I imagine once she got rid of it, she would have called in the police, just as you did, and pointed them toward her victim.”

“M. Cloutier is an old friend,” Nathanial replied. “I was helping him out. I owe him a slightly greater loyalty than I do to Anne, who likes her independence above any friendship.”

Sebastian blew out his breath. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked.

“You wouldn’t have believed me,” Nathanial replied.

“I would have, if you had made me believe!”

“The way Anne made you believe I was fooling you?”

“You know what she told me about you?” Sebastian asked, horrified.

“I can guess, given the way Anne likes to work. She would have used enough of the truth to make her story very convincing. From the little you have said, I presume she told you I had the necklace and was going to give it to you.”

“She said it was a glass copy, but anyone caught with it would be in as much trouble as if they had been caught with the real one.”

“That is how she stopped you from searching for the necklace for yourself,” Nathanial murmured. “I did wonder. You wouldn’t have been interested in a copy.” He stirred. “Well, she ran out of time. She must have learned the French were on their way to Southampton. Perhaps I wasn’t as discreet as I thought. It doesn’t really matter, for something scared her into packing and leaving in the small hours of the morning, after severing her connections with Mercy very neatly.”

“Do you know where she is?” Sebastian asked curiously.

“She told Mercy she was going back home to York,” Nathanial replied. “So I assume she is somewhere in the south western tip of England. Perhaps she is in Wales.”

“That was my guess, too,” Sebastian said. “That is what I told Cloutier.”

“If she is there, he will find her. I would not wish to be in her shoes when he does. The French will spare her nothing. Taking the necklace was too ambitious and bold, even for Anne.” Nathanial turned and rested his rear upon the edge of the table and crossed his arms. “And now you are here, where I thought no man would be able to find me.”

“What are you doing here, anyway?” Sebastian asked, waving around at the room. “You’ve been living here at the club. I had to bribe my way into a membership.”

“That must have been expensive. These people play a terrible game of cards, but they do know the value of coinage.”

“Very expensive. I used your money, by the way. You left pounds of it in your bedroom wardrobe.”

“That was my emergency fund.” Nathanial shrugged. “I’m glad someone found it useful. I’m glad it was you.” Then he smiled. “I’ve made up all that and more, just in winnings in the last two weeks. I like to fleece card players when I need a change from more ambitious and illegal activities.”

“Then you don’t cheat to earn your winnings?”

“I’ve never needed to. Drink and cards don’t mix, but I’ve yet to meet a human who understands that.” He leaned over and caught Sebastian’s hand in his and drew him close enough to that his thighs were brushing up against Nathanial’s knees. Even sitting on the table, Nathanial’s gaze was just about level with his. “Why are you here, Sebastian?”

Abruptly, all the fear, the excitement, all the raging emotions were back, rushing through his body, making him tremble. “Don’t you know?” he asked.

“I want you to tell me,” Nathanial said. “I want you to hear yourself saying it. I want to hear it.”

Sebastian swallowed. “I…this is difficult.”

“Yes,” Nathanial agreed gently. “Say it.”

“I…” He blew out his breath. “I want to stay with you. I want us to be together.”

Nathanial pushed Sebastian’s coat aside and raised the bottom of his waistcoat. “That wasn’t so hard was it?” He eased the top button of his breeches open.

Sebastian was still shaking, but now a different feeling whooshed through him. Excitement. Pleasure. Wanting. “It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever said,” he confessed.

Nathanial slid the next two buttons free. “You will get very used to speaking that way, soon enough.”

“I will?”

“You will,” he confirmed. “It is called speaking the truth. We’re both liars, Sebastian. This will work only if you and I allow nothing but the truth to come between us.” He stood up and pushed his hand inside Sebastian’s breeches. His fingers curled around him and Sebastian closed his eyes.

“Truth,” Sebastian whispered, liking the taste of the word in his mouth.

Then Nathanial kissed him and he knew he had finally found a place he could call home.

More in the Blood Stone series
by Tracy Cooper-Posey

.

Broken Promise – Blood Drops 1.2

While Nial, Winter and Sebastian are on their honeymoon, Nial relates the story of how he once lied and broke his promise. In his own words, Nial describes the horrors of war, and the tangled ideals of loyalty, while revealing the conflict he feels over the long existence of a vampire and the much shorter but sweeter life of humans – especially one of his most favourite humans, Sebastian.

A short story filled with anger, remorse...and love.

WARNING: This romance contains two hot, sexy alpha heroes. There is explicit and frank sexual language. It includes a single heart-stopping sexual scene between the aforementioned sexy heroes. Don't proceed beyond this point if hot love scenes offend you.
No vampires were harmed in the making of this story.
___

This is a Blood Drops book. Blood Drops are short and novella length stories featuring the characters and situations in the Blood Stone series. Droplet sized morsels for your reading pleasure.

The Blood Stone series:
Blood Stone 1: Blood Knot (#1 Amazon Best Seller, Fantasy Romance)
Blood Drops 1.1: Southampton Swindle
Blood Drop 1.2: Broken Promise
Blood Stone 2: Blood Stone
Blood Stone 3: Blood Unleashed
Blood Stone 3.5: Blood Drive – Blood Stone Boxed Set 1
Blood Stone 4: Blood Revealed (Upcoming)

These are continuing characters and storylines. Reading the series in order is strongly recommended.

PRAISE FOR THE BLOOD STONE SERIES:

Intriguing plot and fresh vamp world to explore. I can only hope and pray that Tracy plans on continuing and making this a series of some kind, because I would love to read more about this world she created. an Amazon Reader

Tracy Cooper-Posey’s writing keeps you on the edge of your seat, laughing out loud and wanting to use a fan to keep the heat out. Amazon Reader

This is one of those hidden gems in the self-publishing world. — Kathy F. for The Romance Studio

I don’t want this series to ever end.  — Patches, an Amazon Reader.

Broken Promise will be available January 24, 2014

Stay Up To Date

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About the Author

Tracy Cooper-Posey is an Amazon #1 Best Selling Author. She writes erotic vampire romances, hot romantic suspense, paranormal and urban fantasy romances. She has published over 70 novels since 1999, been nominated for five CAPAs including Favourite Author, and won the Emma Darcy Award.

She turned to indie publishing in 2011. Her indie titles have been nominated four times for Book Of The Year and Byzantine Heartbreak was a 2012 winner. She has been a national magazine editor and for a decade she taught romance writing at MacEwan University.

She is addicted to Irish Breakfast tea and chocolate, sometimes taken together. In her spare time she enjoys history, Sherlock Holmes, science fiction and ignoring her treadmill. An Australian, she lives in Edmonton, Canada with her husband, a former professional wrestler, where she moved in 1996 after meeting him on-line.

Her website can be found at http://TracyCooperPosey.com. Tracy appreciates hearing from readers and can be reached at Tracy@TracyCooperPosey.com.

Other books by Tracy Cooper-Posey

Blood Knot Series (Urban Fantasy Paranormal Series)

Blood Knot
Southampton Swindle
Broken Promise
Blood Stone
Blood Unleashed
Blood Drive
Blood Revealed (Upcoming)

Beloved Bloody Time Series (Paranormal Futuristic Time Travel)

Bannockburn Binding
Byzantine Heartbreak
Romani Armada

Kiss Across Time Series (Paranormal Time Travel)

Kiss Across Time
Kiss Across Swords
Missing
Kiss Across Chains

Guardian Bonds (Gargoyle Paranormal Series)

Carson’s Night
Beauty’s Beasts
Sabrina’s Clan (Upcoming)

Destiny’s Trinities (Urban Fantasy Romance Series)

Beth’s Acceptance
Mia’s Return
Sera’s Gift

Short Paranormals

Solstice Surrender
Eva’s Last Dance

Guns ‘n’ Lovers Series (Romantic Suspense)

Red Leopard
Black Heart
Blue Knight
White Dawn (Upcoming)
Silver Noon (Upcoming)
Golden Day (Upcoming)

Go-get-‘em Women (Short Romantic Suspense Series)

The Royal Talisman
Delly’s Last Night
Vivian’s Return
Ningaloo Nights
Sian’s Run (Upcoming)

Jewells of the Morrow series (Historical Romantic Suspense)

Diana By The Moon
Heart of Vengeance
The Perilous Maiden (Upcoming)
To Soothe a Savage Heart (Upcoming)
The Heart of the Enemy (Upcoming)
The Cherlebury Rose (Upcoming)
The Duchess of Winter (Upcoming)
Despite The Sands Of Time (Upcoming)

Scandalous Sirens (Historical Romance Series)

Forbidden
Dangerous Beauty
Rhys Davies’ untitled story (Upcoming)

Romantic Thrillers Series

Fatal Wild Child
Dead Again
Dead Double
Terror Stash
Thrilling Affair

Contemporary Romances

Lucifer’s Lover
An Inconvenient Lover

The Sherlock Holmes Series

Chronicles of the Lost Years
The Case of the Reluctant Agent

For reviews, excerpts, and more about each title, visit Tracy’s site and click on each title in turn: http://tracycooperposey.com/books/tracys-trilogies-series/

Copyright Information

This is an original publication of Tracy Cooper-Posey

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.

Copyright © 2014 by Tracy Cooper-Posey
Text design by Tracy Cooper-Posey

Cover design by Dar Albert
Wicked Smart Designs
http://wickedsmartdesigns.com

All rights reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

FIRST EDITION: January 2014

Cooper-Posey, Tracy
Southampton Swindle/Tracy Cooper-Posey—1st Ed.

Romance—Fiction
Paranormal – Fiction
Historical - Fiction