Darling Beast (Maiden Lane #7)(67)
Author: Elizabeth Hoyt

And afterward, as she lay exhausted against him, tracing a finger through his sweat-dampened hair, she wondered if there was a way back to her old life after this.

Or if he’d led her into a maze in which she’d be lost forever.

Chapter Eighteen

The monster watched Ariadne with his beautiful eyes as she tended to him. When she was finished he made to stand, but stumbled, swaying. Impulsively she wrapped her arms about his muscled waist to steady him. He looked down at her curiously, then led her to a bower, where he offered her berries and clean water. And although he did not speak, she thought there was intelligence in his soft brown gaze…

—From The Minotaur

Apollo crept down the corridor toward his uncle’s study.

Well. As much as a man his size could creep.

It was past midnight and as far as he could tell all the guests were asleep, including Lily. He’d had to leave her sweet warmth to go investigating, and he hoped it wouldn’t take long.

He wanted to return to her.

The door to his uncle’s study was unlocked, thank God, and he ducked inside as quietly as he could. It wasn’t a very big room. A single bookshelf appeared to hold ledgers, with a table and chair in front of it, while a desk and chair stood at one end near a fireplace.

Apollo crossed to the desk and set the candle he’d brought on a corner. The top of the desk held only a jar of quills and an inkpot on a blotter. He went around the desk and sat in the chair to try the middle of the three drawers that ran across the front of the desk. It was unlocked and he drew it easily open to find a thin pile of papers, a pencil, and a penknife. Nothing else.

Frowning, he tried the left-hand drawer and found it entirely empty. Obviously his uncle wasn’t much of a man of business—which might be the reason he was so deeply in debt. The right-hand drawer, unlike the other two, was locked.

Apollo had his head bent, examining the lock as well as he could in the dim light, when a voice interrupted.

“What are you doing at my desk, sirrah?”

Apollo nearly hit his head on the desk. He looked up and found his uncle frowning at him. He opened his mouth to lie… and found he was simply too tired to do so.

He sat back in his uncle’s chair, making it squeak with his weight. “I’m looking for evidence that you murdered three men in order to steal my inheritance and title.”

The older man’s mouth dropped open. “You… what?”

Apollo sighed. “I’m your nephew, Apollo Greaves, Viscount Kilbourne.” He bowed mockingly. “At your service, naturally.”

“Kilbourne…” William Greaves backed up, nearly dropping his candle. “You’re mad.”

“No,” Apollo said patiently, if a little grimly, “I’m really not, and you of all people should know it.”

“Why’re you here?” William asked, apparently not following the conversation at all.

Apollo started to rise, but the other man gave a little shriek and held out both hands. “Stay where you are! Don’t come near!”

“Uncle,” Apollo said quietly.

“No!” The other man dashed from the room, moving quite swiftly considering his age.

Apollo’s brows rose.

“Help! Help! Murder!” screamed his uncle, his voice diminishing as he ran away.

Well, that settled that.

Apollo picked up the candle and strode out of the room. He met a single footman as he made his way to Lily’s room, but he simply nodded and kept walking. Below, he could hear the household rousing as his uncle called the alarm.

Miraculously, she was still sleeping when he entered her bedroom.

He sighed, taking one last look at her peacefully slumbering form, and then reached down and shook her shoulder hard. “Lily.”

“What?” she asked sleepily. She sat up as she heard the commotion. “Apollo!”

“Shh.” He sat on the side of the bed. “I love you.”

Her eyes went wide. “I…”

“There isn’t time,” he said calmly. “My uncle has discovered me and will come with all his footmen to detain me soon. I have to flee.”

She blinked and took a deep breath. “Of course.”

“Meet me tomorrow night,” he said, looking into her eyes to make sure she didn’t mistake him. “In the garden by the pond where you saw me bathing. Do you remember?”

“I… yes.” Even now he was charmed by the blush that pinkened her cheeks.

“About six of the clock, I think. If there’s any trouble, send word to Makepeace,” he said, rising. There were footsteps approaching. He turned and kissed her fast and hard. “I love you. Never forget that.”

Then he rushed the door.

There were two footmen plus the middle-aged butler. Apollo shoved the butler out of his way, and would’ve done the same to the footmen had not one swung at him. Apollo knocked aside the man’s blow and drove the point of his elbow into the man’s belly, doubling him over. The remaining footman backed up a step, obviously torn between duty and the desire to keep his ribs intact. Apollo feinted with his right and when the man flinched back, gave him an additional push to make him fall. Then he was running down the hall past half-dressed ladies and gentlemen who didn’t do very much to stop him.

Wheeling around the corner, he half slid down the main staircase, past a startled Mr. Warner, obviously returning from a room not his own—most interesting—and then he was out the front doors and running.

Running into the black night.

He could hear the shouts behind him, and then hoofbeats gaining on him fast. He whirled at the last minute, hands up, ready to dodge the horse.

Only to find the Duke of Montgomery pulling a great black beast to a half-rearing halt.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” the duke snapped, for once discomposed. He thrust out a hand. “Get on!”

HE’D SAID THAT he loved her.

Lily stared at the doorway, not sure she should believe what had just happened.

He loved her.

What did that mean to him? Was he going to offer to keep her? Or was it something he said to every woman he bedded?

But no. As soon as the thought crossed her mind, she disregarded it. Apollo was a good man. If he said he loved her—loved her—then he did.

She sat in the bed, entirely nude, the coverlet pulled over her breasts, and felt a strange, tenuous feeling: happiness. Ridiculous. She didn’t even know if he’d escaped—and she had more than enough proof from Richard and Kitty’s marriage that aristocracy and actresses couldn’t mix. But…