To Tempt the Devil (A Novel of Lord Hawkesbury's Players) Page 21

  But he drew back. “James…” he choked out.

  “I know,” she whispered. “I know. We’ll have to think of a way to tell him.”

  He rubbed her knuckles with his thumb and said nothing. She swallowed past the lump forming in her throat. Did Rafe’s loyalty and responsibility toward his brother extend to forgoing his own happiness?

  “He is wrong for me, Rafe,” she said. “I know that now. He is my friend. My very dear friend. But it’s you I love, in an entirely different way.” Still he said nothing. Cold fingers curled around her heart. “Please. Do you understand? Even if nothing comes of this, of us…I will not wed James. Not now. It wouldn’t be fair to him because I don’t love him enough. I never will.”

  Rafe could hear the crack in her voice and his heart lurched into his throat. It felt full, heavy, like it would burst and shatter him into a thousand pieces. He never thought he’d ever feel like this. Never thought he’d hear any woman say those words to him. And never thought it would be Lizzy and that her quiet declaration had the power to break him apart.

  It’s you I love.

  “I understand,” he whispered because he wasn’t capable of speaking louder. He traced his thumb across the ridge of her cheek, down to the point of her chin, the curve of her bottom lip, swollen with his kisses. So exquisite. Beautiful. Like a rare jewel. All his.

  But James…

  He groaned and shut his eyes against the image of his brother bruised and defeated in the Marshalsea. He had no money, no dignity, no pride left. How could Rafe take away the one thing of any value he still possessed?

  But he couldn’t give Lizzy up.

  She sighed and rested her cheek on his chest. Her breasts pillowed against his ribs and her breath warmed his skin. She was lithe and soft and she fit perfectly, like her body was meant to be exactly there. He stroked her hair and felt her relax into him. All her inhibitions were gone around him now and he felt privileged that she’d allowed him to see the real Lizzy, the amazing, sensual woman with a strong mind. He wanted to tell her but her breathing had become steady and soft. She was asleep. It would have to wait until tomorrow.

  He tried to sleep too but couldn’t. His senses were too alert to sounds of intrusion and besides, who could sleep with such a woman as Lizzy naked beside him?

  About an hour after dawn, as he thought of what to tell James, he heard it. A door opening then closing. He woke Lizzy with a hand over her mouth to silence her. Her eyes grew wide and he signaled for her to rise and dress quietly. He watched her out of the corner of his eye as she put on hose and stockings, shift and jerkin. She glanced at him, her gaze dipping to his nakedness. She blushed fiercely and he kissed her thoroughly, silently. Then he finished dressing and approached the door. Someone came up the stairs, their footsteps light and quick.

  Rafe stepped back from the door and pushed his sleeves up. The door opened and the actor named Antony came inside. He took one look at Rafe then Lizzy and covered his gasp with both hands.

  Lizzy threw her arms around him. “Oh, Antony,” she said and buried her face in his shoulder. “It’s so good to see you.”

  Rafe cleared his throat. Antony set her aside and looked at him, eyes narrowed. He glanced at Lizzy then back at Rafe again and smiled slyly. “Taking good care of her, I see.”

  Lizzy dipped her head. Rafe folded his arms and Antony held up his hands in surrender.

  “Believe me, I’m glad that you are,” he said. “Very glad. She needed…taking care of.”

  “Who does?” said another man entering the storeroom. He had the red-rimmed eyes of a drunk and the beginnings of a patchy beard clinging to his chin. “Lo, Liz, you murderess!” he said, sweeping past Rafe without a second glance and aiming straight for Lizzy.

  “You’re in early, Freddie,” she said.

  “Fucking Style’s got me reading an extra fucking part today. Got to learn new fucking lines by this afternoon.”

  Rafe snatched his arm and dragged Freddie around to face him. “Think you can speak without using the bad language?”

  “Fuck no.” Freddie snorted a laugh. “So they haven’t caught you yet?”

  “Not through lack of trying,” Lizzy said with a heavy sigh and a glance at Rafe. She blushed again. His fingers relaxed and he let go of the little turd.

  “We’ve seen the constables outside every day,” Antony said. “How did you get in with them watching all night?”

  “We distracted one long enough to sneak inside,” Lizzy said.

  “That would explain why he was propped up against a stile, his eyes barely open.” Antony laughed and drew Lizzy into another hug. “So now what, pet?”

  “Now, I finish it,” Rafe said.

  “How?” came another voice from the door. Lizzy greeted the newcomer as Edward. Rafe remembered him as Roger Style’s brother. Behind him stood the manager himself, a tall peacock feather sprouting from his black hat.

  He pushed past his brother and stood in the center of the room, feet apart, hands on hips. “What are you doing here?” he said to Lizzy. “You’ll put us all in jeopardy.”

  “Roger,” Edward snapped. “Have a care.”

  “Lizzy needs us,” said Antony. He squared his shoulders and thrust out his chest, as masculine as any man defending the honor of a lady. He ruined the effect by tossing his long golden hair over his shoulder. “She’s only in this mess because of you.”

  “Me?” Style spluttered.

  “Aye,” came another voice at the door. It was Shakespeare. He nodded at Rafe. Rafe nodded back and wondered how many more would join them. “And you know it, Style, or you wouldn’t have offered the reward for the real villain’s capture.”

  “Reward? I don’t recall—”

  “I do,” chimed four voices, including the brother’s.

  Style deflated somewhat. “What are you doing here?” he growled at Shakespeare. “You deserted us to work for that cheating, scheming Burbage, remember?”

  “If I were you,” Shakespeare said, “I’d try not to make any more enemies.”

  “I don’t make enemies of them, they make enemies of me.”

  Antony and Edward rolled their eyes. Freddie laughed loudly.

  “I came to ask if I could borrow a beard,” Shakespeare went on. “Red if you have it. I was storing ours, but…it’s gone missing.” His gaze didn’t once switch to either Rafe or Lizzy. He was a good liar, or actor, or both.

  “No, you can’t,” Roger said. “And go away.”

  “Should be in that trunk over there,” Edward said.

  Shakespeare thanked him and opened the trunk lid. “So what happens now?” he asked Rafe as he rummaged through wigs and costumes. “I see the constables are still outside, although one looks like he’s been in a drinking contest with a shipful of sailors and lost. He just threw up in the bushes.”

  “Rafe’s going to finish it,” Antony said. “You missed that part.”

  “Finish it how?” Edward asked.

  “A sword rammed through their guts?” Freddie said, hopeful. “Can I watch?”

  “Can you ram him through the guts?” Antony said, screwing his nose up in distaste as Freddie belched.

  “Fuck you,” Freddie said and belched again.

  “Lizzy,” Rafe said quietly. “Stay here but keep away from the windows.”

  Her eyes widened. “No! Rafe, you can’t go out now. It’s too dangerous. Wait until nightfall at least.”

  Nightfall was too long to wait. Besides, he wanted to be seen. He needed to draw Barker to him and end his life then hope his written witness account would be dismissed. If not, he could always steal it. Without it, the authorities had no proof that he murdered Gripp. All he needed to do was avoid Treece and his men. He went to get his boots. She got there before him and snatched them away. She folded them against her chest and glared at him.

  “I’ll go out barefoot,” he said.

  She regarded him fiercely for one moment, then her face suddenly crumbled. He closed he
r in his arms, boots and all, and held her. He heard Freddie’s snort behind him and then they all shuffled out leaving him alone with Lizzy.

  “I don’t want you to do this,” she mumbled.

  “I have to.”

  “I know.”

  “Don’t be afraid. I’m good at taking care of myself.”

  She looked up at him through watery eyes. “When this is over, I’m going to take care of you.”

  He kissed the top of her head and reluctantly let her go. Walking away was the hardest thing he’d ever done.

  CHAPTER 16

  The constable stationed at the back door of the playhouse was propped up against a stile, fast asleep and snoring loudly. Rafe easily avoided him and headed straight to the Marshalsea, taking a long, circuitous route so that his path couldn’t be retraced to the Rose. Once inside the prison, he walked fast to James’s cell. There was so much to say and so little time in which to say it.

  Rafe had only just left the theatre when Antony and Will Shakespeare returned to the tiring house’s storeroom in a panic.

  “You have to go!” Antony cried, hustling Lizzy toward the door.

  “Why?” she asked, glancing from one to the other. They were flustered, not at all like their usual carefree selves. “Rafe! Is he—?”

  Footsteps thundered up the stairs and Edward barreled through the door. “A disguise!” he said. “Now!” He rummaged through a coffer and found a beard and short black wig. She put both on, tucking away her own hair.

  “Rafe left,” Will explained as he helped her. “But one of the constables must have seen him go. He roused the other and is coming this way.”

  “Henry overheard them as he passed by on his way here just now,” Edward said. “One went to follow Rafe and the other is coming to see if you’re within. So move!” He rushed her down the stairs and toward the back door.

  But it was too late.

  A man entered, tall and square-set with a thick brow over bloodshot eyes. He wiped a drooping mouth with the back of his hand and looked into the faces of each member of the troupe. His gaze whisked past Lizzy and settled on Antony.

  “Take off that wig,” he snapped.

  Antony flicked his hair. “But, sir,” he said in the high voice he used for the stage, “this is my real hair, sir.”

  Edward gave Lizzy a little shove toward the door. She slipped past the constable, who ignored her. “Take it off or I’ll take it off for you.”

  Outside, Lizzy ran. She had to find Rafe, had to warn him the other constable was on his way. She would be safe, disguised as she was. Besides, if need be, she could blend into the crowd at the Marshalsea, where she guessed Rafe had gone.

  “Rafe!” James leapt up and clasped him by the shoulders. The three other prisoners watched with undisguised interest. “Thank God you’re still alive. And…” He swallowed. “And Lizzy?”

  “Well enough when I left her.”

  James muttered a prayer to the celing. “But…where’s your disguise? If someone’s watching the prison, you would have just been recognized.”

  “I know. That’s the point.”

  James stared at him. Then he punched Rafe in the shoulder. “You fool! You damned ox-headed fool!” He shoved Rafe back toward the turreted entrance. “Get out. Now! Go or they’ll catch you!”

  Rafe gripped his brother’s wrists and James winced. “I will in a moment. But first, I need to speak to you. I need to know…do you love her?”

  “What? Lizzy? Of course.”

  The big prisoner snorted. Rafe didn’t care. He felt like his heart was falling through him to the ground.

  “What’s this about?” James asked.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Rafe whispered.

  “He fucked her,” Briggs said.

  Rafe slammed his fist into the ox’s face. Briggs reeled back into the wall.

  James’s jaw dropped open. “You did what?”

  Rafe should have denied it but he couldn’t and James wouldn’t believe him anyway.

  “We didn’t mean for it to happen.”

  James plopped down on the pallet and bent over double like he was in pain. Beside him, Briggs groaned. Rafe touched his brother’s shoulder but James shook it off.

  “I’m sorry,” Rafe said. “I couldn’t help it.”

  “Of course you couldn’t,” James sneered. He fixed Rafe with a glare so fierce it burned. “You had to do it, didn’t you? Had to ruin the best thing in my life.”

  Rafe felt heavy, like he was weighted down with a thousand boulders. “I’m sorry. But I love her and she—”

  “Love her! Love her! You don’t know what love is, brother. How could you when you take away lives without a thought—”

  Rafe rocked back on his heels. James knew. He knew Rafe was an assassin and he loathed him for it.

  “Do you know if any of the people you killed for money had loved ones?” James spat. “Do you care?”

  “They deserved it,” Rafe said.

  “Did they? Like I deserve to be in here? Or you deserve to be hunted for killing Gripp? Did you kill him, Rafe?”

  “Of course not.”

  James’s face twisted into an ugly grimace. “Why did you have to come back to London? Why did you have to drag her into your vicious world? She’s an innocent, Rafe. Or she was until she met you.” Every word dripped with venom and hatred, stinging and biting Rafe until he could stand it no longer.

  “Enough,” he said.

  But James shook his head. “I don’t hate you, Rafe. I can’t. You’re my brother and you looked out for me back then. But I never want to see you again. Understand? I want you to leave London. With you gone, Lizzy will be safe.”

  “No. She won’t.”

  “She will!”

  Rafe blew out a breath. Christ, this was the hardest thing he’d ever done. His first kill hadn’t been this gut-wrenching. “How did you find out about my work? Who told you?”

  The change of pace seemed to catch James by surprise. “A man came here and gave me a message for you.”

  “Who?”

  “He said his name was Barker.”

  Rafe felt himself drain away, felt his body empty of his life’s essence. It was replaced with cold, dark hatred. “And what did he say?” he asked quietly, calmly.

  James’s nose dripped and he wiped it with his dirty sleeve. “He said you no longer have a position with Lord Liddicoat. He said Liddicoat has been informed of your prior employment as an assassin. He told Liddicoat that you’d even killed one of his cousins or nephews or something.”

  “That’s not true.”

  James shrugged and wiped his nose again. “It doesn’t matter. The point is, you don’t have a job to go to and Lord Liddicoat now wants your head on a pike.” He scrubbed both hands through his hair and let out a low moan that echoed around the cell. “This is all a bloody mess and I’m never going to get out of here.”

  “I don’t need Liddicoat’s money to get you out.” Hughe’s payment for killing Barker would be sufficient.

  Rafe put his arm around his brother’s shoulders, but James shoved it off. Beside him, Briggs staggered to his feet. He rubbed the back of his head.

  “Try that again, cockhead, and I’ll break every bone in your body,” he said.

  Rafe ignored him. “I have to go,” he said to James.

  Briggs spat on the floor. “Go on, run back to your little wench and fuck her brains out. You can think of me in here, fucking the brains out of your br—”

  Rafe punched the sneer off his face. The oaf’s head snapped back. Rafe hit him again and again and again until his knuckles bled. But he didn’t feel any pain. He didn’t feel anything at all, not even rage, not anymore. He’d reached the place beyond that, a place where nothing could touch him.

  He watched, detached, as the big man collapsed to the ground and lay there without moving. The two small prisoners tucked their legs up and stared at Rafe through frightened eyes. James said something too, but he wasn’t looki
ng at Rafe. He was looking past him to the door. His face was white.

  “Lizzy,” he said.

  Rafe turned. Saw her standing there in a short black wig. She stared slack-jawed at Briggs. Her wide eyes swept up to Rafe and she stepped back, recoiled. She shook her head over and over, blinking those big doe eyes at him. Her wig slipped off and fell to the floor near her feet.

  The world returned to Rafe with a slam that made him stagger. His head pounded and his fist ached, but his heart hurt most of all.

  No, no, no! “Lizzy! Please, you don’t understand.” He heard the way his voice sounded stretched, thin, and didn’t care.

  “You didn’t stop,” she whispered. “He was unconscious and you kept hitting him.”

  “You didn’t hear what he said,” James said.

  “Just words,” she mumbled. “Only words.”

  Rafe reached for her. “Lizzy, I—” The look of pure terror in her eyes made him drop his hand.

  She spun on her heel and ran. Right into the arms of Barker.

  Lizzy reeled back. Or tried to. Someone held her and she couldn’t move. Someone tall like Rafe, but not Rafe. He was behind her, yelling at the newcomer, telling him to let go of her. She could hear the worry in his voice but also the hatred, cold and sharp. So like the Rafe of old, the one who’d terrified her seven years ago when he’d beaten his stepfather to a bloody pulp.

  He had not changed. He was the same brutal, angry man. What had they done or said to turn him into such a fierce beast?

  What if one day she did something to upset him too? Would he turn on her?

  “Let her go, Barker,” Rafe said again. “I’ll go with you instead.”

  Lizzy closed her eyes. So this was Barker, Rafe’s enemy. Did that make him her enemy too? Or an ally? She couldn’t be sure anymore. One thing she did know, she’d seen the man she thought she loved turn into a vicious animal and almost kill someone with his bare hands. And he’d done it all without a hint of emotion.

  The man who held her, Barker, laughed drily. His fingers tightened their hold. “Come and get her.” He spun her around so she faced Rafe and James.