by Brenda Joyce
He smiled at her.
"Oh." Annabel smiled back, suddenly feeling quite happy. "A locked door hardly interferes, I do see."
"Perhaps what I want is not in her suite," Pierce said softly. He stared directly at her, his smile gone.
Annabel understood. She did not move.
Pierce suddenly shook his head, as if catching himself in an unplanned act. "Go back to your rooms, Annabel. And back to bed. I have work to do."
Now she started. "So it is tonight." Which explained his good mood, she thought.
"Yes." He stared.
"Let me help."
"That is out of the question." "Why?"
"You will cause me to bungle the job."
"That is not fair," Annabel said angrily. . "But it is true. You would only distract me. And I have a partner."
Annabel did not know what to say. So she spoke the truth. "I will never see you again after tonight."
He hesitated. "It would be unlikely."
She crossed her arms, hugging herself.
For a long moment, he did not speak. "You are wearing your heart upon your sleeve—for me to see."
It was hard to speak. "I don't care," she said hoarsely.
"Annabel, this is insane." His gaze was glued to hers. His facial muscles were set and tensed.
She swallowed with difficulty. "What is insane?" - - "This." And he swept her into his arms.
Annabel could hardly believe he was kissing her, that finally, after two horribly long, endless and lonely years, she was in his embrace. His mouth claimed and held hers. She gripped his shoulders, his back, her mouth tearing at his. How unbearable, how good, this was.
And then his lips were on the soft underside of her throat. Annabel's hands were in his hair. Her back was against the wall. His palms slid over her breasts. His mouth, kissing and nibbling on her throat, finally found a tiny area of exposed flesh on her collarbone. It was sheer and wonderful torture.
He pulled her hard against him, burying his face in her hair, groaning.
"Don't stop. Please, Pierce, I will never see you again!" Annabel cried.
He pulled away from her, only to clasp her face with his strong hands. Their gazes locked. "I want you," he said.
There was a soft rapping on the door.
Annabel lay naked in Pierce's arms in his bed. She was panting, her heart just beginning to slow from their frenzied and rushed lovemaking. He had not even moved off her, and like herself, was breathing quickly and harshly. The knocking came again. It was soft and low, but insistent.
For one instant, his arms tightened around her. Then he slid off her and sat up.
Annabel became lucid. She could guess who was knocking on his door at perhaps two-thirty or three o'clock in the morning, and she sat up, clutching the covers to her chest. Pierce stood, reaching for his drawers, which he stepped into. He strode to the door and opened it.
"Guv, wot yar doing? Did you forgit we 'ave a job to do this night?" Louie asked in a low tone of voice.
"I do believe I briefly lost my head," Pierce said wryly. "With good cause." And he looked over his shoulder and smiled at Annabel.
Annabel could not smile back. This was happening too swiftly. She did not move.
That was when Louie saw her and his mouth dropped open. "Guvnor, it's late. We got to get going. Forget 'er."
Pierce stepped aside so Louie could enter the room, and he quickly dressed. His expression had changed, hardening. Watching him, Annabel felt the glow of their glorious lovemaking vanish, replaced by dismay, dread, and fear. "I want to help. At least let me keep watch."
"No." Pierce buttoned his white shirt deftly, slipping on his jacket.
Annabel stared, and then she flung aside the covers and stepped from the bed. Louie cried out. Pierce whirled.
Annabel leapt into her drawers and chemise. "I am going to help!" she cried.
And for one instant, as Pierce stared, she thought his gaze was admiring, and knew it had nothing to do with her body. Then he stepped to her and gripped her shoulders. "No. I know you are headstrong and brave, but not this time, Annabel."
"What if she wakes up and catches you while you are robbing her?"
He flung on his jacket, and as he did so, Annabel saw it was the one with the specially sewn interior pockets. Then he bent over the trunk and produced a small black satchel from it. Annabel realized he was about to leave, without answering her, and frantically she shimmied into her black dress. Would he abandon her once again without even a good-bye?
But if he did, it would be her own fault, for allowing this to happen—and for not seizing her own fate.
She was so upset, she could not do up more than a single button. "Goddamn it!" she cried.
He paused at the door, and when he finally turned, his face was grim. Annabel had not taken her eyes off him, even as she tried to struggle with the damned buttons on the back of her dress. Their gazes clashed and locked.
Pierce dropped the satchel. He strode to her, grabbed her and kissed her hard. "Good-bye," he said, his gaze intense.
"No!" Annabel said.
He retrieved the satchel and, without a backward glance, moved to the door. Annabel knew he was about to exit not just the room, but her life, and that this time it would be forever. She knew she must act.
Her gaze swung around the room wildly and settled upon a blue and white vase filled with flowers. She grabbed it, running after the two men. And as she hefted it, Pierce turned. His eyes widened with surprise and comprehension. "No!"
But it was too late. Annabel crashed it down upon the unsuspecting Louie's head.
Chapter Ten
They both watched Louie sink to the floor, his eyes rolling back in his head.
Annabel grimaced, hoping she had not hurt him, and when she looked up, she saw Pierce staring at her. "I want to help," she said.
"Good God," he returned. Then, ruefully, he half smiled. "Very well. But only this once."
Annabel could not believe her ears. She felt herself smiling.
And for one moment he stared at her. Then, "Turn around." His tone was brisk. "It is late and we are behind schedule."
Annabel turned. He quickly buttoned up her dress and she stepped into her shoes. Then they slipped soundlessly from the room. Annabel had a hundred questions to ask, especially once she realized they were going downstairs and not up to the floor where the countess's suite was, but she did not dare. She knew Pierce would strangle her if she made a sound. She was determined to be an extraordinary accomplice.
A few small lights flickered in the lobby as they hurriedly approached. Annabel's heart lurched when she realized a clerk remained behind the front desk, and even though he was sleeping, his head upon his folded arms, she gripped Pierce's arm from behind with alarm. Pierce looked at her, one finger to his mouth, having lost none of his composure. Annabel nodded, aware of perspiring. Perhaps, she thought, the clerk would be the one to discover them in the midst of this criminal act. Her pulse was racing with both fear and excitement.
They left the stairs and started through the lobby. It had never seemed larger to Annabel and traversing it seemed to take an eternity. They were halfway across the room when the clerk suddenly stirred, making a sound.
Annabel froze. The clerk mumbled to himself. Pierce grabbed her and they ran the rest of the way, when Annabel would have turned and fled back to the stairs. She flung a glance over her shoulder. The clerk, Annabel saw, continued to doze.
They paused just around the corner, outside the manager's office. Annabel trembled, her fear warring with relief. She could hardly believe they had not been caught, could hardly believe Pierce was so bold. Then she saw Pierce extracting a bit and brace from the satchel. He did not look at her, but Annabel was in shock. They were breaking into the manager's office, just steps away from the front desk and the sleeping clerk? Was he mad?
Very quickly, Pierce drilled the bit into the wood around the lock. Annabel's heart continued to thunder and her mouth wa
s painfully dry. He finally looked at her with a smile, standing and jimmying the doorknob off the door. He pressed it open and bowed as if they were at a ball. Annabel shook her head—now was not the time to clown—and together they went inside. Pierce closed the door carefully behind them.
"Yale locks," he whispered. "Impossible to pick." He winked.
Annabel was sweating; he was enjoying himself. And she felt like breaking into hysterical laughter. Instead, she pointed at the door and at herself.
"Good girl," he mouthed, patting her back. He handed her the knob and walked behind the desk. Annabel realized his goal was the huge cast-iron safe set in the wall. She watched him extract some kind of small brass horn from the satchel. As he placed it against the safe, the other end to his ear, he began to twirl the large black dial.
Annabel realized she was so fascinated with what he was doing that she was not keeping guard as she was supposed to do. She turned and cracked the door slightly and peered out of it. The lobby was empty.
Her pulse continued to race. She heard a click from behind. It seemed ominously loud in the silence of the night. Pierce had opened the safe. The horn had disappeared back into the satchel. He was groping through the vault's dark interior.
Annabel heard a footstep. She whirled, but saw no one, and only silence greeted her now. And then there was a tap on her shoulder from behind.
Annabel almost jumped out of her skin, but she faced only Pierce. He was smiling at her, holding out the largest ruby she had ever seen. It dangled from a strand of glistening, perfect pearls.
"Oh, my God," she heard herself whisper. And then she heard the footfalls outside in the lobby again.
Pierce heard them, too, because the necklace disappeared. A small pistol had appeared in his hand in its stead. He shoved Annabel behind him.
The door began to open.
Annabel was so tense she thought her body would snap. Sweat poured down her face and limbs in streams.
A slender man stepped into the room.
As he did so, Pierce grabbed him, clapping a hand over his mouth and pressing the muzzle of the gun to his head. "Louie." He released him.
Louie glared at Pierce, and then at Annabel. If looks could kill, Annabel would be dead.
Annabel wanted to tell him how sorry she was, but on the other hand, she wanted to throttle him for scaring her to death. But she could do neither. Pierce was signaling to them and his meaning was clear—it was time to go. He shoved first Louie and then Annabel from the room. They melted against the wall, waiting to hear any sounds from the front desk. The clerk was now snoring.
Annabel could not believe that their good fortune continued unabated. Her eyes met Pierce's.
He smiled at her and waved them forward. And as one, the trio raced across the lobby and upstairs to the safety of his room. ,.
The clock in Pierce's room read three fifty-five. Pierce was grinning and holding up a bottle of champagne. As he popped the cork, he said, "I seem to recall that you are fond of champagne, Annabel."
They had done it. They had burglarized the countess, and escaped without mishap. She laughed in delight. "I am. .
He handed her the bottle, sliding his arm around her. His tone low, he said, still smiling, "Even if it is warm?"
"Even if it is warm," she said, her smile fading.
His also dimmed. Annabel forgot to think. He bent and kissed her, long and slow, tongue to tongue.
"Now hold on," Louie cried, arms folded across his chest. "She's got some explaining to do."
Pierce released her. Annabel felt drugged from the kiss and what they had just done. It was hard to think, for all she wanted to do was to jump back into bed with Pierce and touch him everywhere, allowing him the very same liberties. & .
"Here," he said softly. "Ladies first."
Annabel accepted the bottle and took a long swig of champagne. How delicious it was, even at room temperature. And then she thought again of what they had done, and her part in it, and she grinned. Living dangerously was definitely in her nature.
"You seem very pleased, Annabel," Pierce said softly.
She met his blue gaze. "I am."
His gaze was probing!
"An' I got a headache you couldn't believe." Louie scowled at Annabel.
"Louie, I do believe the lady meant no harm," Pierce said, handing him the bottle.
"I'm sorry," Annabel said, meaning it. "But I was so afraid for the two of you and I wanted to help." Suddenly her elation died. They had done it, pulling off the burglary with ease and even aplomb, but what would happen now? Her heart lurched with sickening intensity. She turned to Pierce, only to find him watching her extremely closely, and he was no longer smiling, either— as if he could read her thoughts.
"Now what?" she asked with real trepidation.
"In a day or so we will check out," Pierce said easily. "After the ruby is discovered missing, after the police come, question everyone, and fail to find either the thief or the jewel."
"You will stay here?" Annabel was aghast.
"Yes. If I leave now, in the thick of the night, I will be the obvious culprit. You are the only one who knows who I am, Annabel." He was smiling.
Annabel was ill. So much so that for a moment, all words failed her. She sat down hard on his bed. Where, so recently, they had been passionately entwined. She looked at the mussed covers, recalling the intimacy they had shared.
"What is it?" His tone was sharp.
"Oh, God. I should have told you this before." She looked up. "Adam and Lizzie know who you are, Pierce. Adam recognized you and told my sister."
Pierce stared.
Annabel rubbed her temple. "She agreed not to say anything, but I do not think she can keep her silence once this theft is discovered. And Adam, why, I am certain he will come forward." Pierce cursed.
Annabel had never heard him use an epithet before, and oddly, it seemed incredibly out of character. "We are blown," he said grimly to Louie. "And we must leave right now."
Annabel started.
"An' how are we going to do that?" Louie said. "The staff’ll be up in another two hours, we won't even be out of town by then."
Pierce was grim. His gaze found Annabel.
And ridiculously, she felt as if this were her own fault. "You knew the risks," she said defensively.
"I knew the risks," he agreed.
"There wasn't time to tell you sooner," she said. Thinking about why there hadn't been time—because they had been in bed together.
"They're going to catch us," Louie said, pacing. "Even if we make the next train out, when they finger us, they'll be stoppin' the train to arrest us."
"Actually, I am in agreement with you, Louie."
The situation was horrid, and getting worse with every moment. "I will beg them not to say a word," Annabel cried.
"Adam Tarrington has too much integrity. He will point his finger at me the moment Guilia cries theft."
Annabel was of the exact same opinion. "So what will you do?"
"I will run. And with a little luck, Louie and I shall escape."
She was frozen. His words echoed. Unable to restrain herself, filled with dread, she asked, "And what about me?"
He hesitated. "History seems to be repeating itself, does it not?"
She told herself she would not allow even a single tear to fall. "I am an accomplice."
Pierce gave her an odd look and Louie snorted in disbelief.
He wasn't even going to suggest that she run away with him. Annabel could not move. She loved him, dear God, she did, but he did not return her feelings, or not to the same degree. So, once again, he would abandon her, and in doing so, kill her heart another time.
"Annabel."
She looked up.
"It would never work."
She inhaled. "Why not?"
His jaw flexed. "The risk of being caught is high now. I cannot let you take that risk, Annabel."
"You are taking that risk," she said, her tone oddly
fragile.
"I am. But I am different from you. You belong here, with these people, with your family, your own kind."
And tears filled her eyes. Her own kind. The kind who preferred the drudgery and predictability of marriage and society fetes, the kind who loved nothing more than to point and whisper, judge and condemn. Poor, poor Annabel Boo the. Why couldn't he see that he was her kind? Not those other, horrid, gossiping folk?
They were one of a kind! How blind could he be?
"Annabel. One day you will fall in love with some proper but brilliant fellow, and you will marry. I am certain of it." He knelt before her. "I know you do not understand. But you are young, and one day you will thank me for what I have done."
Annabel laughed, without mirth, through her tears. I am in love, she thought miserably, but did not verbalize her thoughts.
"Let's go, me lord," Louie cried. "Afore we got no chance at all." -Pierce took her hands in his. "I will never forget you."
Annabel could not speak.
He stood. Their gazes held. Then he walked out of the room with Louie, betraying her almost exactly as he had done two years ago. But this time, Annabel knew she would never forgive him, and that she would never see him again.
Chapter Eleven
The banging on her door was terrific. Annabel had cried herself to sleep. Now she opened one eye and saw the sunlight streaming into her room. It was mid-morning.
"Annabel! Open this door immediately!" Lizzie cried, pounding on her door again.
Lizzie was the last person Annabel wished to see. She sat up slowly, and was overwhelmed with grief again. The tears fell and she could not stop them. She flopped back on the bed, this time rolling onto her stomach and sobbing into her pillow.
"Annabel! Annabel! Are you in there?" The knob rattled wildly.
Suddenly angry, Annabel threw her pillow aside and stood, striding to the door. She swung it open. "I am sleeping," she cried. "Go away!"
Lizzie gasped. "You are crying? Oh—what has he done now?"
And at her sister's open display of genuine sympathy, Annabel collapsed into her arms, sobbing uncontrollably.
Lizzie held her. Eventually, Annabel pulled away and walked back to the bed, sinking down tiredly upon it. Lizzie closed the door, locking it, and came to sit down beside her. "Thé countess was robbed. An extraordinarily valuable ruby, worth a king's ransom, they say, was taken from the safe in the manager's office last night."
