Stolen Kisses

by Suzanne Enoch

  “And do you think I had anything to do with Old Hatchet Face’s demise?” He took a step closer. “I would appreciate an honest answer. You have spent several conversations accusing me, and rather to my surprise I…” He hesitated, the first time she had seen him at a loss for words. “I find that I value your opinion,” he finally finished, then gave a rueful grin. “You have a considerably better grasp on honesty than I do.”

  He wanted her opinion. She carefully considered her answer while he waited. “I think,” she began slowly, “that I don’t know enough about you to answer that question one way or the other.”

  Jack started to speak, and instead turned to pull aside the curtain and gazed outside. “I don’t know why I expected anything different from you,” he said, half to himself. Abruptly he turned to face her again. “I’ll make you a bargain.”

  She wrinkled her brow suspiciously. “What sort of bargain?”

  “You may ask me any three—and only three—questions, and I will answer them honestly and succinctly. That is, so long as you promise me that my responses never leave this room.”

  It was an intriguing suggestion, and much harder to turn down than she expected. “And what is the catch?”

  He gave a brief grin. “For every question you ask, you must allow me to kiss you.”

  Lilith lifted both eyebrows, trying to ignore the tingle that ran down her spine at his words. “Kiss me?”

  Jack nodded. “One question equals one kiss. For a total of three. Do we have a bargain?”

  He expected her to say no, she realized. What he didn’t know, though, was that she had been able to think of little else but kissing him again since their last embrace. “Agreed,” she answered clearly, her heart hammering.

  She had the pleasure of seeing Jack’s surprise. “Please. Proceed.”

  “All right.” Lilith tapped her chin, seeking her first question. “Why do you dislike the Remdale family?”

  Before he answered, he closed the distance between them, leaned down, and covered her mouth with his own. Not snatched by surprise, this kiss was different than the others had been. Lilith had time to feel the lips that were soft and firm at the same time as they caressed hers with a gentle, possessive touch that seemed uniquely Jack Faraday. And uniquely…stirring.

  Slowly he lifted his head. “One,” he murmured.

  “And…your answer?” she asked, already seeking another question, not because she wished for a response, but because she wanted another kiss.

  His fingers caressed the sides of her face. “One of Wenford’s pieces of property is Hanfeld Hall—a small, rarely used hunting park that borders on Fencross Glen, one of my smaller, rarely used estates. There’s a meadow dead center between them, a pretty little spot with a gazebo in the middle which floods up to the floorboards with every spring rain. It was on Fencross land, but rumor has it that it was also the place where Wenford…acquired the consent of his first wife.”

  “He did the same thing to her that he tried to do to me, you mean,” Lilith said quietly, studying the serious brown eyes before her.

  Jack’s jaw clenched. “That’s the rumor. Anyway, the buffoon decided he wanted to buy the meadow—probably thought the whole bloody thing was romantic. But my grandfather refused to sell. So Wenford offered to put up his prime hunting lodge in Surrey against the damned gazebo. My grandfather liked the odds, and agreed. They played a round of hazard over it, and Wenford won.”

  “But what’s so terr—”

  “The hunting lodge, it was later discovered, was entailed. Wenford didn’t have the legal right to give it away, so he had nothing to lose by wagering. And besides,” and Jack lowered his head briefly, “he said some rather insulting things about the Faraday bloodline in the process of forcing the wager. My grandfather was a very proud man.”

  “As you are, I think,” Lilith whispered.

  Jack looked at her. “I lost most of my pride some time ago, sweet one. And you have two questions remaining.”

  “All right.” Lilith took a deep breath that shook a little. “How is it that you are so adept at sneaking about, and that you always seem to know everything about what everyone is up to and why?”

  “That’s actually three questions, but as you are devastatingly attractive, I’ll accept it as one,” he said with a slight grin.

  “Thank you,” she said, a pleased smile touching her own lips. She couldn’t recall ever being called devastating before, and certainly not by someone of Dansbury’s experience.

  His mouth touched hers, feather light, and then he leaned still closer and deepened the embrace of their lips. He teased her lips open, and slid his tongue along her teeth. The touch was shockingly intimate, and Lilith felt a shivering tingle running down her spine to the warm, secret place between her legs. This was what kissing was supposed to be like.

  Slowly he lifted his head again. “Two,” he whispered.

  By then Lilith had forgotten her question, but the clock chiming faintly from the hallway reminded her abruptly of something else. “I have to go,” she said in a rush, pulling free of his embrace. “Pen’s waiting for me in the library. I can’t—”

  “I used to be a spy,” he said succinctly, stopping her flight.

  “What? You…”

  “When Bonaparte retook Paris, Richard and I were recruited by Wellington as his envoys. We spent most of the war mucking about Paris and the surrounding countryside, trying to separate rumor from fact. Peese, my very rude butler, and my valet, Martin, were part of our team. Richard’s still with the war department. I left.”

  “Why?”

  He paused, looking at her. “Is that your third question?”

  Sensing his hesitation, she met his gaze. Nothing else in his expression gave anything away, but that small flick of his eyes, the short breath, had been enough. “You don’t want to answer that one, do you?”

  Jack pursed his lips. “Is that your third question, now? I’m not answering anything until you decide.”

  There were things she wanted to know about him, about his feelings rather than his past—but with Wenford’s death and the rumors surrounding it, it seemed more important to determine Jack Faraday’s character once and for all. Learning whether he truly liked her or not would have to wait. “I want to know why you left the war department.”

  He turned away. “Surely you’ve heard the rumors, Lil. Take them as your answer and ask me something else.”

  “You said anything. Jack,” she reminded him softly. “I want to know about this woman they say you killed.”

  Jack looked over his shoulder at her, then made his way over to lean against the mantel in a pose that looked easy and relaxed, until she looked into his eyes and saw the tension and reluctance there. “Her name was Genevieve,” he said in a cool, distant voice. “Genevieve Bruseille. Yes, we were lovers. Yes, I killed her. With a knife, though. Not a pistol. No, I was not drunk at the time, and it was not an accident.” He shook his head. “It was definitely not an accident. Do I regret it?” Jack looked over at her, the dark expression fading from his face as he regarded her. “Yes. Now, at this moment, more than ever.”

  Lilith studied his face, the myriad emotions running across his lean features. What she saw there—the regret, the momentary vulnerability, the desire for her—seemed to render his words less significant than the emotion that had driven him to confess.

  “Given what I know at this moment, my lord,” she said slowly, not daring to turn her eyes from his, “I do not think you had anything to do with Wenford’s death.”

  “Thank you.” He walked over to the window again and gazed outside for a long time. “You know,” he said quietly, almost to himself, “embarrassed as Dolph might have been, he could have simply downplayed the entire event. Some other scandal would have come along in a fortnight, and everyone would have forgotten it. There was no need to bring in the suggestion of murder. Accusing a peer, even one as disreputable as I am, could have disastrous repercussions on the accus
er if they were unfounded.”

  “They were only rumors,” she reminded him.

  He turned to face her again. “‘Only rumors’ can do a great deal of damage. I believe your family is well aware of that.”

  Lilith bowed her head. “Yes, we are.”

  Immediately Jack came forward and tilted her chin up again with his fingers. “I never thought to hear myself say this,” he murmured, “but perhaps you should go. I’ll make a fight over something with William, and you’ll be free of me and any unsavory connections should the rumors grow worse. Which they likely will.”

  “So you are chivalrous, now?” she asked quietly.

  “Apparently so. I have recently discovered several unexpected facets to my personality. It’s a bit unsettling, actually.” Jack placed his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes. “Do keep one thing in mind, Lil. If my theory is correct, and Dolph began those rumors to turn suspicion on me, then he is trying to turn it away from himself.”

  She blinked. “You think Dolph Remdale killed his uncle?” she asked incredulously. “And you were warning me about rumors?”

  “I admit I may be completely cork-brained about it,” he returned softly. “But be careful around him. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  London’s most disreputable peer was turning about to be not at all what she had expected. She reached up to touch the side of the marquis’s face. “Now you only want me to be safe.”

  “Yes, I’m full of contradictions today. It’s only that of all people in the world, you were the last person I expected to see on my doorstep, Lil. I am a bit befuddled, I think.”

  “I doubt you are ever befuddled. In fact, I doubt you are ever surprised.”

  “Today, I was surprised,” he countered, smiling jauntily. “As I continue to be, every time I encounter you.”

  “Shh,” Lilith breathed. She pulled his face down toward her. Tentatively, very gently, she touched her lips to his, and his eyes closed. His hands drew slowly about her waist, and the pressure of his mouth on hers increased. Her arms slipped around his neck, crushing her chest against his so that there was no space between them. His lips parted hers, so it was as though they were breathing the same air.

  This time it was she who tentatively explored his mouth with her tongue, moaning at the intimate, arousing sensations running through every part of her being. Gently he took her lower lip in his teeth and bit. Lilith gasped and pulled away a little, though she kept her arms about his neck. For a long moment they stood that way.

  “What did I do to deserve that?” Jack murmured.

  “You forgot the third kiss.”

  “Did I? That was rather stupid of me. How—”

  She covered his lips with her fingers. “And besides, I like this Jack Faraday,” she whispered, and pulled his face down to kiss him again. He returned the kiss roughly, running his hands up her back from her hips and down again. She knew she had taken several steps too far, but neither did she wish him to stop kissing her, touching her. She felt so alive when he touched her.

  Jack walked her gently backward until she came up against the couch, his mouth trailing down from her lips to the base of her throat. His hands shifted, pulling her hips closer against his, while his mouth sought hers again—his kisses hot, and intoxicating, and very, very dangerous. Lilith forced her eyes open and drew a ragged breath that was half yearning moan and half protest. Oh, God, she wanted to let him continue…

  “Jack, stop!”

  Dazedly he lifted his head and regarded her. “What on earth for?”

  “Please, please,” she begged. “I can’t…now…I—”

  He looked at her. “Not now, or not me?” he asked quietly.

  “I…I don’t know.” She shook her head, her fingers still wrapped about his lapels so he couldn’t pull away. “I must go.” Lilith tried to regain her breath and slow her heart before it exploded from her chest.

  He ran a thumb slowly along her cheek. “You know, in a way I’m envious of Wenford.”

  “And…why is that?” she managed, relieved that he wasn’t angry.

  “There’s nowhere I would rather expire.”

  “Oh, stop it,” she protested. Jack Faraday was the most exhilarating, stimulating, annoying man she’d ever encountered. “This is simply your way of getting revenge on me, isn’t it?” she demanded, releasing him. “Do you even bear me any affection at all, or do I just amuse you?”

  He regarded her with an expression that made her want to slap him and kiss him again at the same time. “That’s a fourth, fifth, and sixth question,” he answered. “So what do we do, Lil?”

  “Do? About what?” Lilith pushed his hands away from her waist and stepped aside.

  “About Dolph Remdale possibly killing his uncle.”

  “How can you—” Lilith snapped her mouth shut. If he could still think in a logical manner, he must not care a fig about her. She could barely keep from throwing herself on him again.

  “How can I what?” His hands returned to stroke softly along her arms.

  Lilith drew a ragged breath. “Nothing. We have no proof that anything foul at all occurred, and you know it.”

  “Not yet.” He smiled, cupping her cheek softly in his hand as though he was unable to keep from touching her. “Don’t worry. I’ll think of something.”

  “Don’t. Don’t think of anything. Don’t try to drag me into another one of your games, Jack. My family couldn’t withstand it—and neither could I.”

  Jack sighed. “I shall attempt to behave for a little longer, then. If you’ll save another waltz for me at the…” He scowled. “What’s the next damned society rout, anyway?”

  “The Cremwarrens’, tonight,” she supplied, amused. He really did have little to do with proper society, and whatever his motives, it seemed that she was his lure. As Penelope had pointed out, it was very enticing to be a scoundrel’s weak point.

  “I think I was invited,” he mused. “Will you waltz with me?”

  Her father would be furious. “All right,” she said. “If you promise there’ll be no more talk of Dolph and murder.”

  “If there is no proof, I will not mention it again,” he swore solemnly, then reached for her again.

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” she protested, but couldn’t help smiling as she backed away. “I truly have to go before Pen and I both end up in trouble.”

  “Yes, my lady,” he said reluctantly. Jack walked to the door and pulled it open for her, then followed her out the way she had come. The two of them walked together through his garden to the vine-covered brick wall.

  After a hesitation, Jack leaned down and touched his lips to hers. A lightning pulse raced up her spine, and she kissed him back before pulling away to be certain none of his neighbors had seen them.

  He chuckled. “No one out here but us criminals, my sweet.”

  “We are not criminals,” she retorted. “At least, I’m not.”

  “You are the soul of honesty and purity,” he agreed, then gave a wolfish grin. “At least one of which I hope I am able to change.”

  Truly shocked, she blushed. “Jack!”

  “’Twas your own imagination led you to that conclusion, Lil,” he continued softly. “I told you that you were a sensuous creature.”

  She took a steadying breath. “I am not.”

  Surprisingly, his expression became serious again.

  “Don’t ever tell yourself that, sweet one. Never.” He put his hands about her waist and helped her up onto the wall, then held her hand as she jumped down to the other side.

  She started to turn away, but he didn’t release his grip. “I have to go,” she whispered, glancing over her shoulder.

  “Yes,” he answered. “I do bear you some affection.” He let her go and waved her off toward the Sanford home. “Be careful of Dolph.”

  “I will,” she said, abruptly elated, and hiked up her skirts to hurry back to Pen’s library and her waiting aunt. “You be careful, too, Jac
k Faraday.”

  “I will.”

  Chapter 12

  Jack stood in his garden for some time after Lilith Benton disappeared over Lord Tomlin’s well-manicured wall.

  She had come to warn him. She had risked scandal simply to tell him that his reputation might be in jeopardy—a prospect so trivial it was almost laughable. Except he wasn’t laughing. He was wishing. He wished she had stayed with him. He wished his reputation wasn’t in such tatters that he didn’t dare call on her in a proper manner, and he wished she didn’t become upset and embarrassed every time he approached her in public.

  “What a damned, bloody mess you’ve made of it, Black Jack Faraday,” he muttered, absently shredding a twig in his fingers. “You don’t know what in damnation to do with her any longer.” He scowled, gazing up at the overcast sky and feeling the slight, chill breeze blowing through the maple and elm trees which bordered the north edge of the garden. “And even if you did know, you couldn’t do anything about it, because no one—least of all you—would ever believe it. You’re an idiot. That’s what you are.”

  Jack threw aside the remains of the skinned twig and strolled up the carriage drive to the front door. Lilith had accused him of having a few stray scraps of honor left to him, and while he couldn’t quite call that an insult, it was certainly unsettling. And not just in regard to her.

  There were certain things about Wenford’s death that had begun troubling him more than they should. In light of Lilith’s professed liking for the “real” Jack Faraday, whoever he might be, Jack was suddenly uncertain whether he could continue ignoring the little bits of information he kept acquiring. Wenford’s paying of Dolph’s debts, the supreme lack of affection between the members of the Remdale clan, and the old duke’s dying just in time to prevent his marrying and begetting an heir to supplant Dolph were probably all coincidental. But now Dolph was apparently hinting that the death had been a murder. It was a dangerous course to take, but not an illogical one for a man desperately trying to pretend that he was innocent.

  The whole thing was both intriguing and extremely vexing, particularly when he had to plan his own path so carefully. If he weren’t behaving as though he were half addle-brained over a proper chit, he could proceed in a much more direct and less conventionally approved manner to forestall Dolph’s damned rumors.