her like a randy bul and then apparently lost al sense as the blood rushed to his manhood. That was the only explanation he could come up with for how he could have been stupid enough to try to tumble her on the bed where his dead brother lay. Good Lord, he'd completely forgotten al about the man's presence, able to think only of the nearest horizontal surface and getting her onto it and himself in her.
"That," he said wearily, "is my twin brother George."
Richard supposed it would have been too much to hope that Christiana would suddenly relax, and say, "Oh that's al right then, let's go to my room and finish what we started." But real y, his stil aching manhood would have been grateful for it. However, instead her eyes narrowed suspiciously and there was a sudden pinched look about her lips that assured him explanations were in order. He ran a weary hand through his hair and said, "A little over a year ago I returned home to the sound of a muffled scream from the rooms above stairs. I rushed up to see what was about and found my valet struggling with four attackers.
Unfortunately, I was too late to aid him. Even as I reached my room, one of them slit Robbie's throat and let him drop on the bed to die. I had grabbed up a bust from the entry on the way upstairs and brought it down on the skul of the man who had kil ed Robbie. I think it kil ed him instantly. Even so, there were stil three men to my one and after a bit of a struggle they managed to subdue me.
"The only reason they didn't kil me outright was that George wanted me to know that he was the one who had hired them. He was staying with me at the time and my body was to be found, burned beyond recognition in his bed. It would be assumed that it was he who was dead and he could simply step into my place and become the Earl of Radnor. He would claim my name, the title, the lands and wealth that had been denied him simply because he was born three minutes after me. He wanted me to die knowing I had been kil ed by my own brother." Richard's mouth twisted bitterly as he recal ed the sense of betrayal he'd felt that night. While the two of them hadn't been close for years, he'd stil reeled under the news that his brother could hate him so much. Now he glanced toward the man in the bed and forced himself to continue. "That nasty streak in him is what saved my life. Not kil ing me outright gave me the chance to barter for my life. I had an iron chest hidden behind a false wal of the townhouse. No one knew about it but me and I offered it to them in exchange for my life."
His gaze slid back to Christiana to see that while she stil looked wary, she was listening and that was something. "At first, I didn't think they would take the deal. The man I'd kil ed had been a friend to one of them and he wanted to just kil me . . . after beating the whereabouts of the chest out of me, of course. The second fel ow was greedy, he wanted to let me live, keep me tied up somewhere until they could get the money George had agreed to pay them and then let me go and watch the chaos that fol owed when I came forward with the news that George had tried to have me kil ed
. . . I gather he didn't like my brother much." He waited for her to nod or otherwise acknowledge what he'd said, but Christiana merely stared at him waiting, so he continued.
"The third fel ow was the brightest of the bunch. He didn't think that even a beating would get them the location of the chest, especial y since I knew they would just kil me afterward. But he also didn't want word getting out that they'd welsh on a deal as it might affect their getting future jobs. So, he suggested a compromise.
They would let me live, and take me and the iron chest to the ship they worked on. It was setting sail for America the next day, where they would trade me to