A pained expression crossed his face. “Don’t look at it that way, Arabella. I don’t. Things will work out perfectly, you will see. You’re mad now, but you will thank me later.”
“Thank you?” She scoffed. “You want me to thank you? I cannot in good conscience take any money from His Grace now, since I won’t truly be helping him find Ruby. Do you want me to thank you for making my situation worse than it was?”
Jude gaped at her. “You must take the money. It would seem suspicious if you didn’t.”
She gave a sharp intake of breath at the mess into which she had somehow gotten herself. Jude was right. She had to take the money, regardless of her guilt. She had no other choice if she was going to save her mother, her father, and herself. Remorse and doubt gnawed at her. Another thought struck. She didn’t even know what they thought Justin was bloody well smuggling. What if it was something horrific?
“What do you believe he’s smuggling?”
“Alcohol. We also believe Ruby’s lover stole some of the money from Dinnisfree.”
“What’s the man’s name?”
“Mr. Thorn,” Jude snapped, as if her question somehow annoyed him. His attitude irritated her. She had a right to know as much as possible.
Jude gave her a fixed stare. “You will need to keep your eyes out for papers that may indicate him. Listen to everything he says. If it seems he has a lead on what he is looking for, you must tell me at once.”
She sighed but nodded her agreement. She didn’t know who to believe, but if she was going to keep her mother out of Bedlam and her father fed and cared for, she was going to have to do this. “How shall I contact you each day?”
“Meet me at the Sans Pareil Theatre tomorrow at five in the afternoon. I’ll come in the back, you go in the front. The actors and actresses practice every day at that time and many poor people wander in to watch, so it won’t seem odd that you do so if Dinnisfree should be following you.”
“All right,” she agreed, feeling wearier than she ever had in her life. “I’ll walk the rest of the way home,” she said in a stern tone. She wanted away from Jude at the moment. When he did not immediately release her, she stared pointedly at her wrist until he finally let go. She turned and descended the carriage, not looking back. The horses neighed behind her and the carriage wheels clacked against the cobblestones; Jude must have been maneuvering the carriage to head back to the Garden District. She chanced a glance over her shoulder and saw the curricle disappearing around the corner in the opposite direction.
She hurried the rest of the way home, not liking being out in the dark alone, despite her earlier bravado. When her hand touched the short railing that lined the steps to her home, she relaxed until, to her right, a shuffling sound reached her. She stilled and whipped her gaze in the direction of the large tree that stood next to her house. If anyone was there, she couldn’t make the stranger out, nor was she going to stand around peering into the dark to try to do so. She scrambled inside the house and frowned at the darkness.
Alice always left a candle lit for her, so clearly Alice and Papa had not yet returned home. Arabella groped her way toward the study to where her father kept the claret. She was not normally one to imbibe, but she needed to calm her nerves. When she reached the study door, she palmed the wall to get to the desk without tripping. Something crunched beneath her slippers. It felt hard against the soles of her shoes.
When she finally retrieved a candle and lit it, she glanced down and stilled. Glass from the lone window in the room covered the floor. Fear froze her, but when the clock chimed, she blinked and then glanced at it—ten o’clock. Thank heavens her father was late.
She scanned the room, but nothing seemed out of place. With her heart pounding, she drew close to the window and jerked as a scream lodged in her throat. Illuminated in the moonlight was the Duke of Dinnisfree, staring in her direction, a pistol aimed straight at her.
Justin let out a relieved breath that it was Arabella. He’d been following her since she’d come out of the townhome across from the brothel to ensure she made it home safely and to learn what he could about her life. When she’d gone into her house, he’d planned to leave, but then he’d noticed the broken window. He started to lower his pistol when she spoke.
“Are you going to shoot me?”
Women never made him speechless, until now. He took in her wide, frightened eyes and her pallid skin. Bloody hell. The woman was not joking. She thought his shooting her was a possibility. Whyever would she think such a thing?
His natural caution took over. “Have you done something that warrants my shooting you?”
For a split second, a guilty look crossed her face before her eyes narrowed. “Certainly not,” she snapped. “And you’re lucky I don’t have a pistol because if I did, I might have shot you. Why are you standing outside my window with a pistol?”
“I—”
“Did you follow me?” she demanded, putting her hands on her hips and giving him an incredulous look.
The woman had an admirable amount of gumption. He lowered his weapon to his side. “Certainly I followed you. What sort of gentleman would I be to allow a woman to walk home alone in the dark?” He ignored the fact that she’d been driven home, and he hoped she’d let it pass.
A look of utter surprise replaced the incredulous look on her lovely face. “I told you I was not walking home.”
He nodded as he strode toward the window and stopped right in front of her. “Yes, you did, and I could only be certain of that by following you. Who was the gentleman that brought you home?” He’d tried to get a good look at him, but having to keep his own carriage so far back, he’d failed.
“That was my cousin Jude,” she replied.
“Cousin? If you have a cousin, why did he let you go to a brothel to sell your body?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but he does not have any money to give me.”
“That’s no excuse,” he grumbled. He didn’t like to think she’d been abandoned by her own family. He knew the feeling all too well. If her cousin wasn’t going to bloody well look after her properly, the least Justin could do was make sure her window had been broken accidentally and not by an intruder. He hoisted his leg up and climbed through the window.
“What are you doing?” Arabella demanded with a gasp.
He landed with a crunch of glass in—he glanced swiftly around the room—the study. “What does it appear I’m doing?” he commanded, a trifle irritated, more so that she was upending his calmness again.
She was annoyed? The ungrateful wench! He’d spent the past half hour ensuring she was safe when he could have been sleeping. Where the hell had his control gone? He started to count in his mind when she spoke.
“It appears,” she said, in an acerbic tone, “that you have come into my house without being invited, after stalking me.”
“Stalking you?” This…this ingratitude was a perfect example of why befriending people was more trouble than it was worth. “Miss Carthright,” he clipped, reverting in anger to formalities, “I do not stalk women. Women follow me.” He didn’t give a damn that he sounded pompous. It was the truth.
Her nostrils flared as her eyes narrowed. “Who lives here, Your Grace?”
“What?” he asked, brushing stray bits of glass from his hair he’d gotten when climbing through the window.
“You heard me,” she pressed.
“You bloody well live here,” he thundered, then clenched his fists at his temper.
She nodded. “And as I bloody well live here, as you so rudely put it, is it not correct to say that you followed me?”
“All right,” he barked. “I followed you. Are you satisfied?”
The sweetest smile came to her face, lighting her blue eyes and making his chest tighten oddly and his anger slip away. Respect replaced it. She had stood up to him without blinking an eye.
“Not totally,” she said in a lilting voice that matched the sweetness of her smile. “I
’d like to know why you followed me and why you had a pistol pointed at me.”
“I followed you, Arabella,” he said, striding past her and into the hall to check the perimeter for intruders, “because I thought you were lying when you said you were not walking home,” he said in a low voice. “I had the pistol aimed at the dark, not knowing who may appear, as I saw the broken window.”
“You saw the broken window when you were lurking around my house,” she stated from directly behind him, her voice low, as well.
He was prowling. Damn her bedazzling blue eyes. But he’d been doing so because if he was going to trust her even a fraction, he wanted to know exactly who she was. He drummed his fingers against his thigh, trying to decide what to say.
“I admit,” he whispered, “that I wanted to learn more about you and make sure you were telling me the truth, as I’m relying on you to help me with a rather personal matter. It is very difficult for me to trust people.” He didn’t know why he’d added the last bit. What a stupid thing to say. Then again, it was always best to keep lies as close to the truth as possible.
“I accept your apology,” she said.
He could feel his brow furrow. “I did not apologize.”
“Oh, but you did.” Her words were a breezy whisper. “I do believe doing so must be so foreign to you that you didn’t even realize what you were doing. Nevertheless, I accept. However,” she continued, still whispering, “next time you want to know more about me, simply ask. I am an open book.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Which kind? A mystery?”
She frowned. “A very short, boring tale actually, until perhaps meeting you. Things are becoming more complicated now.”
“I have that effect on people who know me,” he replied, thinking surprisingly of his mother.
Arabella’s heart-shaped face was turned up to him, and her blue eyes, flecked interestingly with streaks of gold, stared at him with an openness that defied what he knew of people. He blinked, but no, she still looked utterly honest. It was false, of course. No one was as truthful as they seemed. Everyone was hiding something.
Including you.
He tensed at the bothersome voice in his head and turned to complete his check of Arabella’s house, but when her hand came to his arm, he stilled and waited. Her delicate fingers curled ever so slightly against his skin. Her touch, so innocent in its nature, was unexpectedly arousing.
“What are we doing?” she whispered.
“I am checking your home to make sure there are no intruders.” And he was doing a poor job of it. Talking too loudly. Being distracted. Getting ruffled by her.
She pressed close behind him as he went from room to room, but the house was empty and did not look as if anything had been disturbed. They returned to the study, and upon searching the room, he found a rock under the writing table.
He picked up the rock and set it on the desk. “Has this ever happened before?”
“No. But there a good number of children who live in this area and many are often unattended, so I’m not surprised.”
Her words eased his tension somewhat, but not so much that he was going to leave her alone. “What time is your father expected home?”
She bit her lip and glanced at the clock. “Any moment, I hope. He’s late. You should go.”
“No.” He was quite sure his tone left no room for argument, but she set her hands on her hips once more and glared at him.
“I insist you leave.”
He strolled over to the sideboard and swept a hand toward the crystal decanters. “May I? It’s been a long night.”
“No, you may not,” she snapped and marched over to him. “Really, you simply must depart.”
“I’m afraid I cannot.”
Her lips parted and she looked as if she was about to argue further, but he held up his hand. “My conscience won’t allow me to leave you here alone with a broken window. I’m sure it was simply the children, as you have said, but if it wasn’t…” He shrugged. “I don’t abandon those who are counting on me.”
Her eyes widened, and then she sighed. “It’s very hard to argue when faced with such gallantry.”
“Gallantry?” He’d never been accused of being gallant. Ruthless. Coldhearted. Emotionally void. Yes, to all of them. But gallant, no. And he didn’t like her seeing him as such when he was lying to her and using her. “I’m not gallant.”
“Hmm.” She tilted her head as if studying him. “Maybe not usually—I cannot say since I have only known you a few short hours—but insisting on staying here to ensure my safety is definitely the action of a gentleman.”
“I’m a gentleman in name only, Arabella. Never forget that.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. “Is that how you woo women? By telling them you’re not a gentleman so they believe you are?”
“I am not wooing you. I would never do so. I’m warning you.”
“Am I so undesirable, then?” Her voice wobbled with her vulnerability and pulled on a heartstring he’d long thought split. What a shocking surprise that the thing still worked. Why here? Why now? Why the devil her?
Her cheeks pinked immediately, and she twisted her hands together.
The why of it all struck him in the gut and caused an infinitesimal crack in his self-control. It was here, now, and her because she reminded him of himself when he’d been younger, weaker, and foolishly longing for the impossibility of his parents’ love. That same sort of desperate longing dwelled in the depths of her eyes and resounded in her voice. He wanted to take her pain from her for a moment and give her a reason to believe she was wrong about herself. He could do that. What harm could that bring?
Arabella caught the skin on the inside of her cheek between her teeth. The strain of the day must have caused her to go mad. That was the only reasonable explanation for what she’d just asked Justin and how her body felt as if it would fracture into a thousand pieces if this man didn’t kiss her right then. He could very well be a criminal. Her mind knew this, but her heart didn’t seem to care. She hadn’t even known she’d longed to feel wanted anymore until meeting him. It smarted, his continued rejection and blasé attitude about her person. There was no denying it.
She’d always told herself that her biological parents’ abandonment of her had been due to their own weaknesses, and she’d reasoned that Benjamin’s rejection and abandonment had been due to his own poor character, as well, but she knew, she knew it was her. She was not desirable. Here stood a man who, by all rights, could demand she bed him, yet he’d rather not.
Not only was she mad, but there must have been something inherently wrong with her looks, with her desirability. She should be relieved beyond measure that he had not demanded such a thing, yet she wasn’t. Not entirely. It would have been nice to be the one to decline his advances, not wonder why they never came. In fact—
Her last thought scattered as Justin reached out and cupped her face in his large hands. Her breathing stalled as her heart raced forward. “What are you doing?” she whispered.
“Showing you what you should know.” The husky words reverberated with the promise of something illicit and unforgettable. One hand left her face and slid to her back to press her firmly against the hard length of his body. She’d never been with a man. The most intimacy she had ever shared was with Justin at the brothel. Her stomach tightened at the memory, and her cheeks heated at her lack of shame. His desire-filled eyes held hers. He wanted her. It was shocking, empowering, and frightening all at once. Yet, her question had started this, so she remained silent and let her mind go.
And go it went. To the wonderful slide of his hand over the planes of her back. And to his fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of her neck, then curling around her head to tilt it back before he bent his head to kiss her.
This time, when his lips touched hers and his tongue traced the creases of her mouth, she opened to welcome him in. He lit a flame within her with each swirl of his tongue, and when his hands came to her br
easts and his fingers brushed over her nipples as they strained against the material of her gown, the flame burst upward, nearly consuming her. She groaned as she circled her hands around his waist to keep him close.
His thumbs flicked gently against her hard nipples as his mouth left hers and blazed a burning path down her neck to the valley of her breasts. Suddenly, his hands were cupping her breasts, and a growl emanated from him as he gently tugged her bodice lower until her breasts almost spilled from her corset. She couldn’t think beyond the maddening heat and pulsing need between her legs to be shocked at her behavior. She arched toward him, desperate for more of his touch.
A draft of cool air caressed her skin as he dipped his fingers beneath the material and freed her heavy, aching breast. He took her taut nipple in his mouth and suckled it, pure explosive pleasure ripping a moan from deep within her as she curled her nails into his back. Blood pounded to her heart, her lungs, her brain, and just as quickly as he’d given her the pleasure, he wrenched it away by pulling back with a groan.
He stood for a moment, staring at her, his green eyes burning bright with what almost looked like wonder. The world around her crashed in on her, and heat flooded her cheeks. He reached out with a hand that trembled slightly and gently pulled her dress back up. “Never think yourself undesirable. You are so very much so that I almost forget who I am. I almost lose all control.”
“And who are you, really?” she asked with a surprising calm she did not feel. Was he about to reveal that he was a smuggler?
His eyes took on a faraway look before he focused on her once more. “I’m exactly the man my father raised me to be.”
The aching pain in his raw voice sent a tremor through her. She hardly knew him, but she could tell from his words that he was suffering, whether he realized it or not. She didn’t want to add to that hurt by betraying his trust, yet what could she do? She needed to know more. “Justin—”
A slamming door cut off her words and made her flinch. Her gaze flew to the door as pounding footsteps resounded down the hall. Justin shoved her behind him, whipped out his pistol, and widened his stance.
The Dangerous Duke of Dinnisfree Page 10
