One Night of Temptation

by Burke, Darcy

  “I sent him on his way, told him there wasn’t anyone like that here.”

  “He believed you?”

  “Seemed to, but who knows with them,” Con said, lifting a shoulder. He spoke with several people downstairs, and if any of them saw her… Well, I wanted to let you know straightaway.”

  “I appreciate it. We need to go.” Hugh wouldn’t put absolute faith in the Runner giving up. If he questioned anyone else—anyone who’d seen Pen earlier—there would be trouble. Furthermore, while Hugh trusted Con, he wasn’t entirely sure Con’s staff couldn’t be bribed to divulge secrets they’d been sworn to keep. “Thank you for your hospitality. Do you by chance have a cloak we could borrow? I’ll return it tomorrow.”

  “Might be one hanging by the back door. You should go out that way.”

  Hugh nodded and Con left. Closing and relocking the door, Hugh leaned back against it, his mind churning.

  “What’s wrong?” Pen asked.

  “That was Con. A Bow Street Runner came looking for you. Your family has called for help. Con turned him away, but we should go.” He strode to the chair and donned his coat.

  “Where?” Her voice held alarm, and her face had gone pale.

  “To my church.” Unfortunately, that meant traversing St. Giles in the middle of the night, which could be dangerous. Even so, it could be done. “We’ll need to disguise you,” he said.

  She dropped the coverlet. “Are you sure we need to leave?”

  He nodded. “The sooner the better.”

  She got up from the bed and began to coil her braid atop her head. She reached for pins on the small table next to the bed and secured her hair.

  “There’s a small room at the church with a reasonably comfortable bed. I stay there sometimes, particularly if I’m needed in the vicinity overnight.”

  She smoothed her hand over her hair and then along the front of her gown. “Ready.”

  He retrieved their hats and handed her the gloves she’d deposited on the dresser before opening the door. Checking the corridor to ensure it was empty, he nodded toward her. “After you, but let me lead the way down the stairs. The common room is still full of people at this hour.”

  She nodded, then preceded him into the corridor. He moved past her, then reached to take her hand. Their eyes connected, and his chest warmed at the trust in her gaze.

  He squeezed her hand, then led her down the stairs. “Stay close behind me,” he said.

  At the bottom, he assessed the common room. It was full of men and a handful of women, but they weren’t overly boisterous. He clung to the wall and guided her toward the door to the kitchen. Moving quickly, they made their way to a narrow corridor that led to the rear door. He set his hat on his head and gave her the bonnet.

  While there wasn’t a cloak hanging near the door, there was a great coat that would work. He held it up for her to put her arms through the sleeves. “Try this.”

  She slid her arms into the coat, and he settled it on her shoulders. It dwarfed her frame, but that only added to her disguise. It also covered her gown to great effect. However, he wished there was a hood to cover her bonnet.

  He reached over and plucked all the decoration from her hat.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Making your bonnet less attractive. And conspicuous.”

  She nodded as he tossed the faux flowers and ribbon into the corner.

  “This coat smells.” She wrinkled her nose.

  He leaned forward and inhaled. It did smell—of whiskey and unwashed male. “My apologies. We’ll hurry.”

  He opened the door and led her into the alley behind the Craven Cock. Pausing, he contemplated the best path to take. He wished he knew what direction the Runner had gone so he could go the opposite way.

  Deciding he couldn’t possibly know and they were better off taking the most direct route, he turned down Carrier Street. He clasped her hand tightly and looked into her upturned face. “Do not let go of me. Walk quickly, and don’t look at anyone. Keep your head slightly downcast so they can’t see your face well. The darkness will help, but there’s enough light around for someone to see you if they’re paying attention. I’m going to rely on the fact that most people in St. Giles at this hour are not giving much notice to others. Ready?”

  She took a deep breath and nodded.

  Without thinking, he lifted her hand to his lips and placed a kiss on the back of her glove. Her eyes widened slightly, and he could have sworn the corners of her mouth curled up. But he couldn’t be sure in the darkness.

  He gave her an encouraging smile, despite the fact she probably couldn’t see it either, and they started on their way. He prayed for a quick passage, no trouble, and most of all, the absence of any Bow Street Runners.

  * * *

  The night was cool but dry as they made their way along Carrier Street. Hugh held her hand tightly, and she lengthened her stride to keep up with him.

  There were enough people about that Penelope worked very hard to keep her head down. It was challenging in that she wanted to look at the environment around her. When would she ever be in St. Giles in the middle of the night again?

  Someone stumbled into Penelope as they neared the corner. Hugh pulled her tight against him, and they didn’t slow. If anything, he increased their pace.

  They turned right onto a larger thoroughfare that was surprisingly busy given the time of night. Though she tried to keep her head down, Penelope glanced around as much as she could. Men were gathered in groups, laughing and drinking. A few pairs of men and women stood together embracing, most of them in the shadows.

  “Hell.”

  Penelope snapped her head up and looked to her companion. Had he just said hell? What had provoked him to swear?

  He stopped and turned toward her. “There’s a Runner coming this way. We need to move quickly in order to blend in. Please trust me.”

  And then he swept her into a doorway and pressed her against the brick building. He murmured, “This is not what I planned,” just before his lips found hers.

  The shock of the kiss flashed through her but was quickly replaced by a scorching heat. His hands came around her, securing her between the building and him. She was vaguely aware of what he was doing—providing safety from the Bow Street Runner. But mostly, she was falling into his kiss.

  She thrust her arms beneath his coat and curled them around his back, pulling him tight to her chest. It wasn’t about protection, at least not entirely. It was about discovery and desire and pursuing something that was wholly for her.

  And him.

  His lips moved over hers as his heat seeped into her, igniting a passion she’d never imagined. When she’d thought of kissing before, it had always been some unknown activity she’d have to perform with her husband.

  This was so much more. It was the continuation of something. The something that had started between them the previous afternoon.

  She clutched at his back, uncaring about the Runner, their very public location, or the fact that this would be seen as scandalous by everyone she knew. He felt wonderful, and she didn’t want to let him go.

  She also had no idea what to do.

  Kiss him back.

  But how did she do that? She stood on her toes and copied what he was doing, moving her lips and…slightly opening her mouth? Yes, that was it.

  Oh!

  A soft, wet sensation glided over her lips. His tongue. She mimicked that too, and that brought them together in a blinding moment of heat and need. A dark sound simmered low in his throat. Seductive and enticing, it emboldened her to slide her tongue along his.

  He opened his mouth, and his hand moved up her spine to cup her nape. He held her gently but firmly as his tongue explored hers, twisting and gliding, sparking a desperate heat that pooled low in her belly.

  It was a heady sensation—joining her body with his and surrendering to temptation.

  The kiss ended slightly less abruptly than it began. Ag
ain, she followed his lead, slowing her movements and parting from him. But he didn’t go far. His mouth lingered over hers as he turned his head slightly.

  “I don’t see him now,” Hugh said.

  Disappointment curled through her. If the Runner was gone, there was no reason for them to kiss again. Truly, Hugh hadn’t needed to kiss her in the first place. He was large enough to obscure her from view and give the impression they were engaged in the same activities as the other couples they’d seen along the street.

  But she was glad he’d kissed her. She would remember it—him—always.

  “That was nice,” she murmured.

  He turned his head back toward hers, and she could see the intensity in his gaze despite their location in the shadows. Perhaps it was that she could feel it.

  “I must apologize,” he said softly. “Even if it was nice. Protecting you is my primary concern. I was trying to make us blend in.”

  “I won’t accept your apology. You’ve given me a night I’ll never forget.”

  His mouth curved into a smile, and her chest constricted. She wanted to kiss him again.

  “Are you sure he’s gone?” she asked, hoping he wasn’t so they’d have an excuse for another kiss.

  He moved slightly to the side, which took his heat away from her. Sticking his head out from the doorway, he looked up and down the street. “I see him way down there. Let us get into the alley.” He clasped her hand, and they set off at their fastest pace yet, crossing Church Street.

  The alley was quite narrow, even more so than Ivy Street. There were fewer people, and it was quieter. It was also dark and rather suitable for kissing.

  Not that they would be stopping to kiss again. Unless they encountered another Runner, which she did not want to do. But if it meant she got to kiss Hugh one more time…

  The fantasy she’d indulged earlier returned as they hurried along the slender lane. She could easily imagine Hugh as her husband. They would share wonderful conversations, she would help him with his parishioners, and they would kiss. They would do more than kiss. She knew vaguely what was required to create children, and after that kiss, she wanted to experience it—with him.

  She never would, however. She’d never be allowed to marry a man like Hugh. Would he even want to marry her? He’d made it clear he didn’t particularly care for Society or its denizens. That specifically included the ladies who visited his church, of whom she was one. That he seemed to care for her and was keeping her safe reflected his honor, not any affinity he might have for her.

  All she had was this night, this fantasy. She planned to cling to it as long as she could.

  They followed the alley until they nearly reached Broad Street. A woman’s voice carried down. “Get in the tub now.”

  Hugh paused and looked up at an open window in the first story of the building where the voice had come from. He turned to Penelope. “Would you mind standing over there for a moment?” He gestured toward the building next door. “In the doorway so she can’t see you.”

  Penelope moved to where he pointed, and he tipped his head back.

  “Good evening, Mrs. Boyle!” he called up to the window.

  “Mr. Tarleton, is that you?” The same woman’s voice responded, though Penelope couldn’t see her. That seemed to be the point. Or rather, for the woman not to see Penelope.

  “It is. Everything all right?”

  “Just fine. One of the boys decided he should go to the kitchen and spill milk all over himself when he ought to be asleep.”

  Hugh nodded. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

  “Good night, Mr. Tarleton!”

  “Good night, Mrs. Boyle.” He waited a moment, then moved to where Penelope stood, hidden from Mrs. Boyle’s perspective. “My apologies,” Hugh said. “Mrs. Boyle runs an orphanage and occasionally has trouble with some of her boys. It’s a rather late hour to be yelling for someone to get in the tub, so I just wanted to make sure everything was all right.” He took her hand, and they started walking once more.

  “You’re very kind to look after them.” But then he looked after everyone, it seemed.

  “Not as kind as Mrs. Boyle. She doesn’t have any children of her own, and when her husband died a couple of years ago, she began to take in orphans.”

  “How many live there?”

  “Close to two dozen, I think. A few are older and help her care for the younger ones. She keeps them clean, fed, and out of trouble. She even teaches them numbers and how to read. I help her as much as I can with food, money, and clothing. You see why I want books.”

  Penelope absolutely did, and while she’d wanted to contribute before, now she was entirely committed to doing so. Furthermore, she wished she could deliver the books personally and maybe even help teach the children. What a far cry this was from the life she led! “I’d love to help more. I will do what I can to get books and writing materials.”

  He looked down at her, his gaze tender yet passionate, and repeated what he’d said before they’d gone to sleep. “You are not what I expected.”

  Warmth spread through her. “Neither are you. Neither is this.” She held her hand up to indicate their surroundings.

  “It can be a difficult place, but there are good people here. They live. They love. They need.”

  It all came down to that, didn’t it? Penelope lived. She needed. And she loved. Or she wanted to anyway. She’d never realized how much until that moment.

  “Come,” he said with an urgency that surprised her. “We’re nearly there.”

  They crossed Broad Street and walked along the pavement until they turned the corner to the church gate.

  They slipped into the churchyard. Headstones stood like dark sentinels watching over the church as they made their way to the back. “There’s a rear entrance.”

  A small set of stairs led up to a door, and Hugh withdrew a key, which he used to let them inside.

  He gestured for her to precede him into a small room. There was a window high on the wall, which provided a scant amount of light from the moon above and the distant streetlamps. Still, it was enough for Penelope to see the furnishings were quite Spartan. A cupboard, a small table, a wooden chair, and a rather narrow bed.

  She looked toward the door on the left side of the room. “What’s through there?”

  “The vestry. Let me get a candle from there.”

  “We don’t need one, do we?” she asked.

  “I suppose not.”

  She took off the great coat, and he stepped forward to help her. “What else is in the vestry?” she asked.

  He hung the coat on a hook in the corner. “Chairs, a small settee. I’ll sleep there, and you can take the bed.”

  Penelope moved past him and opened the door to the vestry. This room was much larger, with a hearth and the seating he’d mentioned. The settee, as he’d said, was small. Too small for his frame. She turned to face him where he stood in the doorway to the room with the bed, which was clearly where he slept when he stayed here. “You can’t sleep on the settee.”

  “I can. It’s probably more comfortable than the chair at the Craven Cock.” His tone held a note of humor.

  He was right. And she should let him sleep on the settee. But she had only this one night. And the temptation to make the most of it was more than she could bear.

  She went to him, her boots moving across the carpet until she reached the wood floor at the edge of the room. Until she stood close enough to touch him.

  Tipping her head back, she looked into his eyes and surrendered to the sweet need—live, love, need—inside her. “You could sleep on the settee, but I would prefer you slept in the bed.”

  “No, I insist you take it.”

  “I will. But I don’t want to sleep in it alone.”

  Chapter 7

  Pen placed her hand on his chest, and despite the layers of his clothing, he felt the touch of her like a brand on his flesh. Had he heard her right? She wanted him to share her bed?

/>   “Pen, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” His body disagreed, given the way desire was swirling through him. Her hand on his chest wasn’t enough; he hungered for her touch.

  “Why? There’s no one here to hold propriety over our heads.”

  She was sorely tempting his resolve. Not that he hadn’t already surrendered to kissing her.

  But that had been a necessity.

  Had it, really?

  He was large enough, or more accurately, she was small enough, to have blocked her from view. But he’d thought of the other couples entwined along the street and decided it would be better for them to appear like one of them.

  Or, he’d just really, desperately, fiercely wanted to kiss her.

  So he had.

  But what shocked him more was the fact that she’d kissed him back. Now she was going even further.

  Temptation pulled at him. He struggled to find his voice. “Just because no one is here—”

  “No one would ever know,” she clarified.

  That was true and only made the temptation more acute. Amidst the desire clouding his brain, he recalled what she’d said. “You just want to sleep?”

  She nodded, slowly, but only after hesitating.

  “It’s a very small bed.”

  “Good, you can keep me warm. It’s chilly.” She edged closer to him, bringing their hips together.

  Hugh nearly groaned. Holding her close while they’d kissed had been a delicious torture. This was a dangerous path.

  She took his hand and led him back into the smaller room. All the way to the bed, where she sat and pulled him down beside her. Letting him go, she leaned down and lifted her skirt to remove her boots.

  He supposed he should do the same, despite the fact that he hadn’t actually decided if he was going to do as she’d asked. After taking off his boots, he got up and deposited them near the door.

  Turning back toward the bed, he saw that she’d risen and had unfastened her dress in the front. The bodice fell to her waist, revealing her underclothes.

  Hugh pivoted and averted his gaze. “You’re undressing?” His voice sounded a tad higher than normal.