And yet, how could that be entirely true if, in fact, he was Hawk?
Chloe looked about her, chafing at the answer. Because he spent the money, not on the poor, but on himself. That much was apparent. So he gave a token bag of coins occasionally—that certainly didn’t qualify him for sainthood.
Rotten scoundrel.
The hearth was ablaze, bathing the room in warm, flickering light. Together with the candles, it made a stunning effect. A small table in one corner sat elegantly adorned with crystal and porcelain. Lilies of various colors filled the vases surrounding it.
If Chloe didn’t know better, she might have thought he’d meant to impress her. But he was only using her. She knew that as well as she knew the taste of his mouth—that thought made her face burn. She shouldn’t know it at all.
He led her into the living area, toward the hearth.
What if she were wrong? What if he wasn’t Hawk?
Chloe chewed her lower lip. If she was, indeed, correct, then the jewels should be hidden somewhere in this cottage. It was her task to find them. Acutely aware of his hand on her arm, she cast him a surreptitious glance, noting the concern in his face, and quickly averted her gaze lest he see her thoughts. She sat upon the chair nearest the hearth and then set the kerchief in her lap.
“Tell me what happened,” he demanded.
Chloe wiped the last traces of tears from her eyes. “I believe you now, my lord.”
He knelt before her, his hand gripping the arm of her chair as he peered into her face. Chloe stared at his strong, lean hand, unable to look into his eyes, trying to determine if it was the same hand that had only a short time ago held a pistol to her cheek. “Tell me what happened, Chloe,” he demanded once more.
Hearing her name spoken so intimately upon his lips took her momentarily aback. “I—I was robbed,” she said, peering up at Lindale. Her heart beat a little faster.
“Hawk?”
Chloe nodded, watching his face for some expression that would betray him. She started to weep again in earnest. Was she so desperate for someone in her life, so lonely, that she would leap at any attention cast her way? And if she was wrong about Lindale, then she had, indeed, lost Lady Fiona’s jewels and she would never forgive herself.
Good night, he was particularly dashing this evening, dressed in a black coat and trousers. His high cheekbones and chiseled face were striking by the light of the fire. And his lips…the sight of them made her heart race a little faster. Ignoring the sound of her heart beating in her ears, she glanced down at his boots.
They were the same sort of boots Hawk had worn.
“I’m afraid you were right,” she relented, narrowing her gaze at him. “Hawk is not a very nice man.”
He arched a brow at her. “I tried to tell you so, Chloe. Thievery is hardly a noble pursuit.” He placed his hand over hers, patting it gently. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you,” he apologized, sounding entirely too sincere. “We should have ridden here together, but I wanted you to feel like a princess tonight.”
Chloe furrowed her brows. “I shouldn’t have come at all. I don’t belong here.”
He said nothing for a moment, and then, “But I’m pleased you did.” And he gently squeezed her hand.
Chloe narrowed her gaze at him. “If you mean to try to seduce me, it won’t work.” But she wasn’t certain it was the truth, because he was seducing her already with merely his look and his sweet words.
She shivered as she stared into his eyes…they were so blue…like big blue moons.
His tone was soft when he spoke again. “I asked you here, Chloe…because I’ve wanted you from the moment I met you.”
He’d barely acknowledged her when she’d come to Glen Abbey Manor. How could she believe anything he said now? Everything she knew about him seemed to be a lie.
“I don’t believe you,” Chloe said, shaking her head. “You were scarcely cordial when I came to reside at the manor.”
He lifted her hand up, kissed it gallantly, and said, “Will you believe me when I tell you I am not the same man you knew then?”
Chloe arched a brow at him. That was an understatement. She could well believe he wasn’t the same man anyone knew.
They exchanged a long glance and then he released her hand and gestured to the bundle in her lap. “What is that?” he asked, then teased her with a wink. “Did you bring me a gift?”
“I don’t know what it is,” Chloe lied. “I haven’t opened it yet. Hawk gave it to me to give to your mother. He said it belonged to the occupant of the carriage he robbed a few nights ago and that she was to have it.”
“Really?” His attention was obviously piqued. His brows lifted and he eyed the bundle with renewed interest. “It seems Hawk has been quite the busy thief lately.”
“Indeed,” Chloe agreed.
“I wonder what it is.”
“Shall we open it?”
“Yes, of course. I would not blindly hand a gift from a thief to my mother.”
Chloe nodded in agreement. She braced herself for his reaction. And without further ado, she picked up the bundle and handed it to Lord Lindale. “Then I shall allow you the honor, my lord.”
He smiled slightly as he took the kerchief from her. Struggling with the knot, he wove it loose at last. When it lay open before them, he cast her a stupefied glance.
“I-it’s a ring,” he said, stumbling over his words.
Chloe understood why.
It wasn’t the same ring originally placed within the kerchief. This one was hers and the ruby with the strange crest was tucked safely where he would never venture…between her breasts. A sense of satisfaction came over her as he stared at the ring lying upon the kerchief. His jaw dropped slightly. He seemed to want to say something and then closed his mouth again, having said nothing at all. He touched his brow, paused to think, and then looked at her with narrowed eyes.
Merrick pursed his lips as he studied her.
She knew.
The little shrew knew who he was.
Or…though it didn’t seem her style, perhaps greed had gotten the better of her. In itself, the ruby with the Welbourne family crest engraved upon its belly was worth a fortune—never mind the gold karats that encased it.
He felt her gaze upon him and wondered what to say. There didn’t seem much he could say without revealing himself. He scratched his head and then raked his fingers over his jaw as he stood.
He had to search the carriage. She would have left it in the carriage, he was certain.
Perhaps this was, somehow, a test?
He lifted the ring from her lap and examined it. He asked as casually as he was able, “You say Hawk said it belonged to the occupant of the carriage?” It had been dark outside, but he was certain this ring was hers…the one she’d tried to give him instead of the necklace. A quick glance at her finger revealed her own ring was gone. “I must wonder…why should this particular ring concern my mother?” he contemplated aloud.
Chloe peered up at him, looking entirely too innocent for his liking. The tone of her voice was far too sweet. “I couldn’t say, my lord.” She shrugged. “It seems just an ordinary ring.”
Merrick pocketed the ring. “I suppose we shall find out soon enough. Shall we go now?”
Her expression turned instantly to one of alarm. “Go where, my lord?”
“Back to the manor,” he suggested. “To give the ring to my mother.”
“Oh, but no!” she exclaimed, bolting to her feet. “We can’t go yet!”
“Why not? It’s obvious Hawk has ruined the evening for us already.”
“Oh, but it’s not ruined!”
Merrick arched a brow, challenging her. “Is it not?”
She sat back down and said in a small voice, scrunching her brow, “Not entirely.” She tilted her lovely face at him and said in a rush, “My lord, I just can’t face her yet—not without the necklace. It was your father’s gift to her!”
Merrick frowned a
t her. He hoped she was squirming in that chair by the fire, because she would surely burn in hell for all her lies.
“Very well. But I should, at least, send a message with the coachman.” He told her firmly, “Stay here. I shall return in a thrice.”
Rotten little liar.
Merrick spun on his heels and left her there to wonder about his intent, fully intending to search the coach.
If she had that ring, he intended to find it.
As soon as Chloe was alone, she leaped up from the chair, knowing she had scarce little time to search the cottage before he returned. There was no time to waste. The vase was the first place she looked. Next she checked the desk. Nothing. Her heart tripping, she stood in the middle of the living area and asked herself…if she were a thief, where would she hide a necklace?
She doubted he would hide it in the kitchen—that was alien territory for any man. Her best bet, she feared, was the bedroom, though she dreaded walking into it. Like a spider’s web, the very thought of entering made her tremble slightly. But she was desperate to find that necklace.
The master’s room was impeccably neat, with nary a hair on a brush left to catch the eye. Chloe knew she would need to search thoroughly but quickly, lest he catch her. She set to work, looking high and low.
Chapter Twelve
The bloody ring was nowhere to be found.
Merrick checked even the closed bud of the rose he’d given her, thinking she may have slipped the ruby within. It wasn’t there; it wasn’t anywhere. Damn. Either she had tossed the bugger out the carriage window or it remained on her person. But though he’d seen glimpses of her fiery temper, he knew she wouldn’t have tossed so valuable a piece, so that left one place to search…
He raked his hands over his face.
Christ, this wasn’t just any ring. Passed down from father to son for over three hundred years, it bore the Welbourne family crest. Merrick would be giving it to his own son someday. Ryo would have known Merrick would never part with it—at any cost—and would have taken its delivery as a call for help. If Fiona knew anything of its value—and he was certain she did—she would have known not to part with it until Ryo arrived to claim it.
What did little Miss Chloe intend to do with the ring?
What the devil did she know?
The little vixen.
Cursing, he left off searching the deuced carriage—a third perusal would be a wasted effort. She was probably already concealing the ring somewhere within the cottage…so she could return for it later. Damn. This evening wasn’t going at all as he’d planned.
She wasn’t in the living area when he returned. He checked the kitchen; it was empty, too. Which left only two possibilities. It was a small cottage. Either she’d managed to slip out while he’d been searching the carriage and was halfway to Edinburgh by now—he knew she no longer had familial ties in Glen Abbey—or she was in one of the two bedrooms.
He made directly for the master’s bedroom.
He found her there, standing before the oval mirror, casually brushing her hair.
The vision was such an intimate one that it took him momentarily aback. For a befuddled instant he couldn’t even remember why he’d been searching for her to begin with, so entranced was he by the sight of her.
Her dark auburn hair was swept down, framing her lovely face. The ends of her long, silky hair curled gently…like a lover’s fingers about her breasts. Her skin was flushed from the curve of her breasts to her beautiful cheeks. He swallowed. Hard. And he had to remind himself to breathe.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, catching sight of him in the mirror. “My lord!” She spun to face him when he entered, pretending to be startled by his appearance. “I—I hope you don’t mind terribly,” she said, her voice betraying a slight quiver. “My pins were giving me a dreadful megrim.”
Merrick still couldn’t find his voice to speak.
“I’m sorry,” she said, looking rather coy. “I shouldn’t have…it’s just that…I know I looked horrid with my hair a mess and tears all over my face.”
Christ, she looked anything but. She was absolutely ravishing.
Merrick’s mouth felt suddenly parched; he licked his lips gone dry. His loins tightened to the point that he hoped she wouldn’t lower her gaze. No trousers could confine the greedy beast stirring there.
He cleared his throat. “Not at all,” he managed to say. He forced himself to remain at the door, lest he go to her, lift her up, throw her down upon the bed and take her like some crude barbarian. He was that bloody aroused.
She wasn’t like the ladies of the town, who gasped by day at the very thought of entering a man’s boudoir, but secretly slipped between his sheets at night.
Nor, evidently, was she some shy miss.
He remembered the way she’d peeked beneath his covers when she’d thought him asleep and experienced a sudden violent wrenching of his gut at the thought of her lying with some other man.
He had to know—as badly as he needed to find that ring—if she was still a virgin.
She shouldn’t have ventured into his bedroom, he thought darkly. Merrick considered himself a gentleman, but he was no saint and she’d changed the rules of the game when she’d entered his lair. Still, he didn’t dare move too quickly.
Like a tiger in a crouch, he waited for the right moment to pounce.
“You look…absolutely radiant,” he said, and meant it. His voice sounded thick even to his own ears.
Chloe’s heart began to thump wildly.
She hadn’t found the necklace, of course, but she knew it must be here somewhere. Looking into his eyes, she realized her foolishness. He’d sent the carriage away; she was alone with him now.
The hungry intensity in his eyes was the same as it was the morning he’d kissed her. His eyes were like blue flickering flames and his gaze, where it touched her, lit her body slowly afire. Her skin prickled with something like fear as he took a step nearer, but it wasn’t quite fear, she acknowledged. She swallowed the knot that arose in her throat and with a mind for self-preservation, took a step backward.
“Tell me…what are you really doing here, Chloe?”
She gulped deeply at the sensual sound of his voice, low and rich. Her breathing grew heavy and her body convulsed in secret places. “M-my lord?” she said, feeling as though she would swoon under his scrutiny. His presence filled the room completely. “You invited me…remember?”
“To dine, yes, I know,” he finished for her. “I meant…what are you doing in my bedroom?” He took her ring out of his pocket, made a point to look it over, then walked past her to the night table, eyeing her as he set the impostor ring down upon the table.
Chloe watched him with a growing sense of alarm.
Why didn’t he ask her about the real ring?
If he did, she would return it straightaway. She’d only wanted to know the truth.
He was closer now and she had the impression that it was by design. He watched her closely as he said, “I sent a message to the house that you’ve been robbed. The constable should be alerted at once.”
Chloe’s eyes went wide. She hadn’t thought about the constable. She knew he would be there at first light to interrogate her. It seemed to Chloe that he wished to catch Hawk more than he wished to breathe. What should she tell him? What if she were wrong about Lord Lindale? What if he was not Hawk, after all?
He must be bluffing, she decided, and straightened under his regard. She refused to be cowed by him. If he was playing games, she could certainly do the same.
“Good,” she said, nodding, but her tone wasn’t entirely convincing even to her own ears. She was a horrid liar. Even now, the cold metal ring stung the flesh between her breasts and she longed to pluck it out and cast it at him accusingly.
Heaven help her, she should never have come here to begin with.
She should have hied back to the manor.
God have mercy, she couldn’t stop staring at him, though she knew it was a
dangerous game she played. His gaze locked upon her face, his eyes entrapping her.
For the longest moment of Chloe’s life, they stood staring at one another.
And she knew…
He knew.
Her heart beat like thunder against her breast. Her hand dropped helplessly at her side, the brush slipping to her fingertips. He closed the distance in the blink of an eye and came and took it from her, tossing it upon the bed.
Chloe suddenly couldn’t breathe.
“My God, you’re so lovely,” he whispered, and his fingers slid through her hair, pausing at her cheek.
Chloe’s head fell backward at the shocking intimacy. She found it impossible to swallow, though she tried. As his hand cupped her face, she sucked in a breath.
Why was she reacting so wantonly toward him? Why was her body behaving so traitorously?
She was already seduced, she feared, and he’d barely touched her.
No man had ever affected her so strangely.
Was she so hungry for the touch of another human being that she would lower herself to such behavior?
She lapped at her lips. “My lord,” she protested, but it sounded more like a sigh when it came through her lips.
“Chloe,” he said, and it sounded like a plea. “I realize I promised I wouldn’t, but I want to kiss you,” he said, and his arm went about her waist, drawing her fully against him. “Tell me you want me to.”
Chloe’s lips parted, but no words came. Her heart pounded so fiercely she knew he must hear it, as well. She melted against his embrace and closed her eyes, trying to summon the will to resist him.
“I need to kiss you,” he whispered hoarsely.
Kissing him would gain her nothing, Chloe reminded herself.
Loving him could lose her everything.
“If you tell me not to, I won’t.” His face touched her cheek, his lips lightly brushing her skin.
Chloe clung to him, her fingers clutching desperately at the sleeves of his shirt.
It Happened One Night: Six Scandalous Novels Page 72
