His Fifth Avenue Thief
By Abbey MacInnis
http://www.abbeymacinnis.com
Two years prior, Irishman Aaron O’Connel took his life from rags to riches. Chance and wits have kept him alive in 1850’S New York City. But no amount of money or success can bring his love Cathlene back from the dead. When a thief sneaks her way into his mansion, the last woman he expects to find absconding with his belongings is his long lost wife.
Abandoned on New York’s shores, a widowed, penniless, and ruined Cathlene O'Connel was left to fend for herself in an unfamiliar world. Fear and circumstance drove her to a life of thieving in order to survive, but her heart risks the biggest danger of all when Aaron hands her a scandalous proposition: A son in exchange for her freedom.
Now that he has her back, Aaron doesn't intend to let Cathlene slip between his fingers. He'll do whatever it takes to regain her trust and love. But when an enemy from Cathlene's past resurfaces, Aaron not only faces battling for Cathlene's heart, but also her life.
Copyright 2011 Abbey MacInnis
Smashwords Edition
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Acknowledgements
As always, I must thank my family. Your love, support, and encouragement mean more than you’ll ever know. Love you guys.
Dedication:
In fond, loving memory of my cousin, Colin Smith, 1983-2011. God took you too soon. He must’ve needed an angel because although you’ll always be missed, there’s no one more deserving of that title than you. R.I.P.
Chapter One
New York City, Autumn, 1850
Cathlene watched the two women as they bustled about the large kitchen, waiting for her opportunity to sneak inside unnoticed. Her mouth watered at the array of aromas wafting out the open door. Her stomach growled with hunger. It had been days since she’d last eaten a hot meal, and years since she’d lived a life of opulence, servants and luxury being a thing of her past.
“Where is that gel?” the housekeeper grumbled as she hurriedly prepared a tea tray. “I swear on me life the master shall dismiss her if she is late once more. He’s in a temper this mornin’. Snapped at me he did. I cannot do everything ‘round this place. Ready to quit, I am.”
The cook sighed as she removed scones from the oven. “Tell Hobbs. He’ll dismiss her since she’s late again.”
The housekeeper squinted as she glanced out the kitchen door into the courtyard. Cathlene ducked low, hugging the wall. The elderly woman’s sharp gaze scanned the section of wall where she hid. She crouched behind a hedge, making herself even smaller. “Bloody Hobbs spends more time on the bottle than doing his duties.”
The cook opened the oven door. The tray hit against the rack with a furious clang. “Complaining to the master about Hobbs won’t do. He has an affection for the old man. You know how he and his former master saved his life.”
Cathlene stuck close to the outer wall, hidden by the kitchen door leading out to the courtyard and the stolen gown she’d concealed.
She’d arrived at lower Fifth Avenue and this house by omnibus. Designed in the Greek style, the mansion was as fine as any other on the tree-lined red brick street. She’d hidden her gown behind the hedge near the outer courtyard wall before changing into her disguise of a black maid’s cloak and gown. She’d don her stained garment once she’d gotten what she’d come for…jewels and treasures she could pawn to put food in her belly, a roof over her head, and decent clothes on her back.
To obscure her features, she pulled down the brim of her maid’s cap. She couldn’t get what she needed by walking through the front door dressed in her patched dress. She’d be turned away.
The housekeeper hefted the large tray and headed off to another part of the mansion. Once the cook’s back was turned, Cathlene tiptoed inside. The scents of bacon and eggs and pastries attacked her empty stomach. She swallowed the bile that clawed its way up her throat as she hustled through the kitchen.
Practice and necessity made her light and quick on her feet. Her other senses alerted to any sounds, she watched for any staff who might discover her presence. All looked clear.
She headed up the main staircase to the second floor, where the master bedroom was usually located in grand houses such as this. Poised on the landing, she peered over the balustrade at the housekeeper heading into what could only be the study.
With ease, she located the deserted master’s quarters. She made swift work of finding the safe and jimmying its lock with a hairpin she’d hidden in the bodice of her high-necked gown.
With a quick, keen eye, she deduced she’d struck a gold mine. Although not filled to the brim with feminine frippery such as lockets, bracelets, necklaces, and brooches, the pickings weren’t slim. Before her life of thievery, she’d received her fair share of jewels. She had no trouble discerning the better pieces from the lesser valuable ones.
Cathlene stuffed two bejeweled timepieces, a trio of rings and half a dozen studded cravat pins into a pouch sewn into the front of her gown. The timepieces especially were worth a steep price. If she were careful, she could make enough to disappear.
She’d gotten what she’d come for; now she needed to be quick, sure-footed, and careful – leaving without being detected. She refastened her gown, her loot hidden beneath her breasts. She shut the safe, re-secured the lock, and backed away.
And collided with a hard, broad male chest. The air whooshed from her lungs, knocking the breath from her.
She kicked and struggled, but he was too strong and quick for her. No lazy gentleman was he.
Strapping arms wrapped around her, pushing her forward, until she found herself trapped between the muscular contours of his body and the safe.
An utterly masculine, rich, spicy scent sluiced through her. Crushed from chest to thigh against her back, she had no choice but to feel every plane of his body. She tilted her head slightly to the side and glimpsed him from the corner of her eye.
Her capturer stood more than a head taller than her. He reached for her cap. She angled her head away.
“No you don’t,” he growled in a deep musical brogue. “I hire you to work for me, and in return for my kindness, you steal from me. I’ll see the face of the thief who dares rob me blind.”
Momentary shock froze Cathlene where she stood. He took full advantage of her stillness and turned her about. He pinned her hands against the cool metal of the safe with one of his large palms, while holding her still with the other.
Surely her ears were deceiving her. It had been two years since she’d heard the rough sensual drawl that from the very first managed to melt her insides. First tears of joy then of rage wetted her lashes. Her breaths quickened, her senses invaded by the man holding her. Her limbs trembled forcing him to support her weight.
Aaron was dead. He’d fallen overboard during their love-struck sojourn to America, right after taking every coin and jewel she possessed. They’d stowed away, only to be discovered and married by the clergyman aboard ship. Aaron, her husband who’d drowned, leaving her to fend for herself on the unforgiving unfamiliar streets of New York City. A widowed lady alone without a kind soul to turn to.
A whimper ripped its way up her throat. She pushed hard against him, but she might as well try moving stone for how much good it did her. “Let me go,” she whispered through gritted teeth.
/> She tried kicking him again. “You aren’t going anywhere until I’m satisfied.”
Only Aaron had that calm authoritativeness, that lethality to his voice that could send an enemy running. Trouble was, she was trapped.
To be sure her capturer was he, Cathlene risked a quick glance from under the brim of her cap to study his face. Dark unruly hair. Deep-set black eyes with equally dark brows. Eyes that when aroused, would burn into her, melting her limbs into submission. A crooked scarred nose. Her stomach flip-flopped as her gaze traveled to the full lips that, when stretched into a smile, gave him an almost angelic appearance. No smile graced them now.
He stood over six feet, no trace of the shabby, poor country Irish boy visible in the refined man before her. Dressed in gentleman’s garb of fine linen pullover shirt with full sleeves and deep button cuffs, the wide collar emphasized the cravat knotted at his throat, his shirt tails tucked into long trousers.
It was Aaron after all. He was alive and well. A scream boiled up from deep in her soul. A wail of betrayal, rage, pain and frustration. Her cry echoed off the room’s walls. She delivered a double kick to the closest part of his body she could reach, his shin. She put all she had in to her attack. Aaron merely pressed himself closer.
She struck out once more, meeting her mark. This time he flinched before crushing himself fully against her front.
“Well my love, if you insist on assaulting me as well as steeling my valuables, I’ll have to tie you to me. If you behave, I’ll forget those bruises I’ll be sure to have come morning.”
While she’d fought to survive, he’d thrived. And he had the gall to mock her. “I only meant to borrow those items from you,” she lied, struggling to keep her voice soft so he wouldn’t recognize her while the urge to shout her hatred of him stung like hot coals in her chest.
She’d be damned if she’d reveal herself to him. He hadn’t drowned after all, but deserted her without a care for her well-being. She wagered he would again. Cathlene wasn’t concerned, she’d survived this long without his interference.
He leaned back slightly, but not far enough for her to attempt escape. Aaron held her hands extended above her head, and ripped her gown open from chin to chest. She gave an annoyed huff which he ignored. “Sure you did. I don’t share with thieves. What’s mine is mine.”
Cathlene kept her face averted. Aaron wouldn’t recognize her with all the grime and dirt she’d deliberately smeared over her cheeks. “It’s mine now.”
She tore her hands from his grasp and went for some of the treasures he’d set on the small table beside the safe. He reached for the brim of her cap. She batted his hand away. “Don’t think to hide yourself from me. I know your face well.”
“Are you as possessive with your mistresses as you are your baubles?”
He grabbed her hands again and held them before her. “Aye, I am,” he said, in that low timbre that had always succeeded in seducing her. “I cannot be rid of them once they taste my many charms.”
Arrogant pig.
It was that arrogance that had drawn her to him in their homeland, where she’d been the lady and he the serf. He was so rough around the edges, the salt of the earth – so different from the refined men who’d paraded themselves like peacocks before her. He cared naught for her dowry or for pretending to be someone he was not.
She’d once been one of those women who’d fallen under his sensual spell.
Cathlene gasped as he explored her curves. “Don’t pretend you have any sense of modesty. I have no designs on your person.” He left the underside of her breast, where beneath her thin chemise, her nipple peaked. He caressed a path over her ribs to her stomach. “You’re too thin for my tastes, and too dishonest to ever be my mistress.” He removed his hand clenching the remaining items she’d stolen in his fist. “Though if you were, you’d never have cause to steal. That I promise you.”
She hadn’t caught her breath in indignation, but having his hands roving over her skin brought back memories of lying with him and the endless passion he’d had for her. His touch now rekindled an attraction that hadn’t died with him.
Aaron released her hands. “No gentleman would accost a woman with such an open disregard for her form.”
“I never said I was a gentleman.”
She growled with fury, irritated with herself for her body’s betrayal.
She could not allow herself to feel anything for this man. She’d wasted too many empty, lonely nights mourning his passing.
He whipped off her cap. She attempted to snatch it from his grasp, but he held it out of reach.
The loose chignon at her nape unraveled, leaving her hair to cascade over her shoulders and down her back. “Well, Aaron O’Connel, tis’ glad I am that I am not your mistress.”
Cathlene had the brief pleasure of seeing the shock settle over his face. She dove beneath his arm and ran from the room to make her escape. Once she left his house, she could virtually disappear. He’d never find her.
Aaron stood mouth agape as the thief dashed from his chamber. Her bonnet fell from his limp fingers to the soft carpet. He peered after her, disbelieving it was truly her. His heart raced in his chest as hope spurred him into action.
He bolted from his room and down the stairs. She’d known his name. The thief – his wife, Cathlene, whom he thought dead these past two years.
Cathlene was mere paces from the front door. He couldn’t catch her.
“Hobbs!”
His butler rushed across the hall from the dining room. His normally composed features slipped to reveal the surprise at seeing an unadmitted stranger in his master’s house. But the old man was spry and stony-faced as he blocked the door.
Cathlene pivoted about, her tangled blonde hair swirling around her face, her blue eyes wide and frantic for escape.
Aaron blocked her way as she headed off toward the kitchen. “You’re trapped, Cathlene. You have nowhere to run.”
She halted and stared him down. “You have your items returned to you. Let me go.”
Aaron shook his head. He dismissed Hobbs, who briefly hesitated before disappearing back into the dining room, unseen by Cathlene. “I cannot let you go back out there alone.”
“You can, and you will. I’ve been fending for myself since arriving in America. I certainly don’t need you now. You have your fancy life, and I have mine.”
Aaron stood over her, his hands going to her shoulders. He cupped the delicate curves in his palms, her shoulder blades protruding through her dress. Outrage trembled his grip. She was so thin, so fragile, so broken. Red seared his vision as he imagined Cathlene alone and in all manner of peril.
His hold tightened. He wished to shake some sense into her right after he made her mindless with his kisses. Where he’d then take her to the floor and claim her as his again then cradle her as she fell asleep.
“You’re a thief. That is no life for a lady. Bloody hell,” she swayed as he shook her slightly before releasing her “you’re my wife! What the hell brought you to this lowly state, steeling from your own husband?”
“I didn’t have many options when I arrived penniless and a widow on these shores,” she snapped, glaring obstinately up at him. “Would you rather I prostitute myself instead of steal?”
To think that his Cathlene might have resorted to selling herself to other men made his chest fill with a possessive fury. The need to find those men and tear them limb from limb arced through his veins. He’d been her first lover. He didn’t want to imagine any other man, let alone men, tasting the pleasures her body had to offer. From her full, ripe breasts to her slender waist, to her long legs and wide hips, to the plump silken folds between her thighs, Cathlene was a veritable temple to be worshiped and cherished by one man, not to be soiled by the seedy touch of many.
He muttered a brutal curse under his breath. “You have always been a lady. You are not meant to be a thief or a whore.”
“I have you to thank for the current state I find my
self in.” Bitterness laced through her every word. “I thought you dead, but here you are alive and well.”
“I didn’t force you to become a thief. You did that all on your own. You took years off my life with your sly actions of moments before. They weren’t something I would expect from a lady.”
Her cheeks pinkened with rage. Her eyes flashed with venom that she leashed on him. “The natives care naught that I was a lady in Ireland. I’m not one here. I suggest you forget who I used to be, since I’m her no longer.”
Aaron considered the hard woman with the wild desperate look in her eyes. Gone was the composed, regal woman who’d been his wife. Hunger and the need for survival had stolen her away.
“Where have you been, love? What happened? I thought you some common dockside thief. My heart nearly burst from my chest when I saw your face.” His voice softened. “I thought I’d never see you alive again. I thought I’d lost you forever.”
“Sorry to disappoint,” she scoffed, “but I’m not dead. I’m alive, at least. If I could be anything else but what I am, I would. I’ve no choice. I have to survive.”
Guilt bombarded his heart. Aaron wanted to take her in his arms and soothe away her anger, bring back the gentle Cathlene he’d known. “I did not purposely leave you. You’re my wife. I looked for you for two years. When I found no clues that led me to your whereabouts, I had to conclude the worst.”
“It does not matter. We have nothing more to discuss. You left me.”
Aaron heartily disagreed, but Cathlene was too angry to see reason. “Do you truly believe I’d willingly leave you to the life you’re living?”
She sent him a scowl. “Well, husband, dearest,” she mocked, “you seduced me so I’d give you my virtue. You wooed me so I’d marry you. You stole every last item in my possession. You left me a ruined woman with no money. I wouldn’t return to Ireland and my family even if I could. They wouldn’t want me, since I readily gave myself to a man undeserving of a woman of my station. No matter I thought I lost him at sea.”
His Fifth Avenue Thief Page 1
