How to Steal a Thief’s Heart

by Wolf, Bree

  A murderous gleam came to his thunderous gaze, and something dark and menacing settled about him. He no longer looked like the teasing, persistent, utterly irritating but cheerful lord. Instead, he rather resembled the dark vigilante she’d seen in him the night he’d chased away the drunkards in the alley…if indeed it had been him! Caroline still couldn’t be sure, still had doubts. However, what she knew in her heart was that he was on the brink of doing something unwise. Even if Lord Coleridge deserved his wrath—and Caroline did not doubt that he did—she knew that acting in haste rarely led to a desirable outcome.

  And so, she moved with thought, seeking to balance his emotions.

  Her hands rose, then settled on his clenched fists, her chilled skin in stark contrast to the fire that burned in his. She felt a jolt snap through her and watched his eyes blink in shock, as well, before they cleared and met hers. “Tell me what happened,” she whispered, careful to keep her voice even despite the teasing shivers that danced across her skin.

  His breath came fast as he looked at her, his eyes almost black as though his soul had fled at the shock of this discovery. Had she known, Caroline would have phrased her observation with greater care. Now, all she could do was offer comfort and caution him to not act without thought.

  “What happened to her?”

  Lord Markham swallowed, and she felt his hands under hers tense further. “If…if she is right,” he gritted out, “then Coleridge was one of the men who…murdered her parents.” He all but spat the name, and she could sense that he was no more than a second away from jerking his hands free and rushing out of the house.

  Instantly, her own grasped his, her slender fingers wrapping around his wrists to keep him where he was. “Her parents?” she asked carefully, wondering about the contradiction. Had Daphne not called him Papa?

  His gaze cleared, and she could see that he understood her meaning. “They were on the road late.” He shook his head and, for a moment, his gaze moved down to where her hands held on to him. “I don’t know how they drew their attention. Perhaps it was simply bad luck. I doubt it was anything they did. Their paths simply crossed and…” His eyes closed and he hung his head. “I can still hear their laughter,” he whispered, anguish in his voice. “It was a game to them. Nothing more.”

  Caroline felt tears forming in her eyes as she pictured a young family on the road attacked by a group of men. Men like Coleridge, she assumed. Titled men. Men of good standing. “What happened?” she whispered, wishing she would never have to find out.

  His gaze rose and met hers, making it more real. “It was dark and I was too far away,” he forced out through gritted teeth. “I heard…their voices, the way they spoke, but I…I only saw once I reached the carriage, lying overturned by the side of the road.” He swallowed hard. “When they saw me, the men fled, still laughing and cheering each other on.” His jaw looked ready to break in half. “Daphne’s father was dead, a shot to the head. Her mother…” He paused, and his gaze narrowed as he contemplated whether or not to go on.

  Caroline squeezed his hands, her fingers all but digging into his flesh, then nodded her head in acquiescence.

  He exhaled a deep breath. Then his fists opened and he turned his arms in her hands before his own grasped a hold of her wrists as well, holding on to her as much as she was holding on to him. “She’d fought them,” he continued, the muscles in his jaw clenched to the point of breaking, “and they’d beaten her. Her dress was torn and almost ripped off her. She was barely alive.”

  Caroline felt sickened to her stomach, remembering her own close encounter with less than honorable men. What would have happened if he hadn’t come? She didn’t want to think about it. “And Daphne?” she asked through a curtain of tears.

  Lord Markham swallowed. “I never saw her. I think after the carriage went off the road, her mother told her to run…and she did.” A proud, yet painful smile teased his lips. “Good girl.”

  “Then how did you find her?” Caroline asked, sensing that the story was not finished.

  “Her mother begged me to look for her,” he told her, the helplessness he’d felt in that moment visible in his eyes. “She’d known she wouldn’t…” He drew in a deep breath. “She wanted me to find her and protect her. She made me promise. Then she…” His hands tightened on her wrists, pulling her closer. “It took me hours but, eventually, I found her cowering in the woods. She was in shock, staring into nothing. She didn’t speak for weeks, barely ate. More than once, I thought she wouldn’t make it.”

  “But she did,” Caroline reminded him, her gaze holding on to his.

  Lord Markham nodded. “Yes, she did. She’s strong. She always has been. She does not freeze in fear. She acts. She does what she needs to do in order to survive, in order to protect herself.” Tears lingered in his eyes. “She shouldn’t have to.”

  Caroline nodded, horrified at the thought of what this little girl had endured. “And you never knew who they were?” she asked when a sudden desire for revenge sparked in her own veins.

  He scoffed, a dark, twisted snarl. “They wore masks,” he spat. “The cowards wore masks! Only their speech suggested…”

  Slowly, all the puzzle pieces fell into place and, in front of her, Caroline did not see two men different as night and day, but one man trying to live a life that had taken a horrible turn.

  Those that don’t deserve what they possess.

  Finally, Caroline understood, understood his anger, his need for revenge, his need to punish, to put fear into the hearts of those who thought they were above the law, who thought they were better somehow, who inflicted pain without regret. Indeed, he had never harmed an innocent. Instead, he’d looked out for her on her foolish endeavors into the darkened streets of London. Always had he been there, watching over her, as he’d been watching over Daphne.

  He’d become her father, and Caroline couldn’t be more proud of the man he was.

  Her hands slid from his wrists as she all but drifted into his arms, wanting nothing more than to feel him close and for him to know that he was not alone. That she was here. That she understood. Nothing could be changed by words spoken now. The past was the past, and all they could do was find a way to live with it.

  And yet, it lingered.

  Not only in Daphne’s nightmares, but out in the world. For the men who’d robbed that little girl of her family had never been caught, never been punished. Without thought for what they’d done, they had gone on with their lives. Had perhaps married and become fathers themselves. It was a thought that turned her stomach, and she sank deeper into his arms, her hands reaching up and slipping into his hair, feeling the familiar dark curls.

  It was him, was it not?

  He felt so familiar as his forehead came to rest on her shoulder and she could feel the warmth of his breath even through the fabric of her high-collared dress. He felt larger than life as he leaned into her, his hands settling on her waist, then moving farther onto the small of her back, urging her closer into his embrace.

  Caroline exhaled a sharp breath when her mind instantly returned to the moment in the alley. The way he’d held her had felt the same, had it not? The pressure of his hands on her back. The feel of his towering form pressed against her.

  His head rose then, ever so slowly, and she felt his breath tickle her ear before he pulled back and his dark gaze returned to meet hers. His eyes lingered on hers for long moments as though he, too, was trying to see what existed between them, who they were, perhaps who they could be together. Then his gaze moved up and swept over the top of her head before drifting down to her left ear, his eyes narrowing in something resembling disapproval before moving as though trying to see around her. “Don’t move,” he whispered then, his voice hoarse, sending shivers down her back.

  In the next moment, his hands abandoned their position on her back and moved upward, trailing up her arms and onto her shoulders. His knuckles brushed against the line of her jaw before the tips of his fingers touched h
er hair right above her ears, then ran back until they found the pins holding her hair up and in place.

  Caroline held her breath as he pulled the few pins out of her hair and, before long, she felt her tresses tumbling down. His gaze lingered on the task while hers remained on his face, watching the sense of awe that came to his dark eyes as the last strand was freed and her curls danced down over her shoulders, framing her face in a most unfamiliar way.

  He smiled at her then, his fingers still running through her tresses. “You should wear it down more often,” he whispered, and a teasing smile came to his lips. “Have I not told you that before, little mouse?”

  Indeed, he had.

  Months ago in a dark alley.

  Wearing a mask.

  Although Caroline had known, had suspected for a while and had then put all the little pieces together and come to see the whole picture during the course of this evening, her jaw still dropped when Lord Markham called her by that annoying nickname the masked stranger had so often teased her with.

  A soft chuckle rumbled in his throat as he brushed the back of his hand over her cheek, then gently grasped her chin. “Are you truly surprised?”

  Caroline inhaled a slow breath and a smile stole onto her face.

  He grinned. “When did you first suspect?”

  Her mouth felt suddenly dry. “I…I always thought there was something familiar about you, but…” She licked her lips, her thoughts drawn back to one particular afternoon.

  “You’re blushing,” he observed with delight in his eyes as he watched her. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you blush before.”

  Embarrassed, Caroline tried to jerk herself free, but his left arm snaked around to her back, holding her trapped, while his right hand refused to relinquish its hold on her chin. “It was when I kissed you at the orphanage, wasn’t it?” he asked with a chuckle.

  Caroline squared her shoulders and met his gaze, annoyed with herself for cowering. “It might have felt familiar, yes.”

  Still grinning, he nodded. “I thought it might have been a mistake although I never once regretted having done so.” His gaze dropped to her mouth, and Caroline felt her heart beat hard against her ribcage. “Why did you not confront me?” he asked then, curiosity sparking in his dark gaze.

  “I wasn’t certain,” Caroline whispered, feeling somewhat lightheaded. “What if I’d been mistaken? What would you have said if I’d asked you and I’d been wrong? It could’ve ruined me.” She shook her head. “I couldn’t risk it.”

  “Do you think everything through so thoroughly?” he asked, amusement in his voice. “Well, I suppose except for those nightly excursions of yours. They seemed to be spur of the moment decisions.”

  Taking affront, Caroline glared at him. “I didn’t go out to…to…”

  “I know,” he interrupted when words failed her. “I know you did what you did because you care for those who cannot help themselves. You bear the weight of the world on your shoulders, and you do it without a word of complaint.” His eyes glowed as he looked at her.

  “I do it because I can,” Caroline replied, feeling slightly uncomfortable with the way he was looking at her.

  “Because you think it is your responsibility,” he added, and the glow fell from his face, replaced by something darker, something menacing. “You risk everything in order to help while others inflict pain without thought.” His jaw tensed as his thoughts circled back to the little girl sleeping upstairs. “He needs to pay,” he growled then, and his hand dropped from her chin as he stepped back, releasing his hold on her.

  Caroline understood his anger, his rage, and yet, she could not help but mourn the loss of the intimacy she’d felt between them only a moment ago. Now, the distance returned and began to grow, forcing them apart, and she feared the thoughtless rage she’d seen in his eyes before. “What will you do?”

  His hands balled into fists once more. “I’ll kill him,” he growled out, then spun on his heel and marched toward the door.

  Panic grabbed Caroline, and she flew forward without thought, reaching the door a split second before him. Pushing her back up against it, she blocked his way out. “You cannot!”

  He stopped barely an arm’s length in front of her, his gaze narrowed as he stared down into her eyes. “Why would you protect him?”

  “I’m not protecting him!” Caroline snapped back. “I’m protecting you, you and Daphne.” She drew in a deep breath, her eyes holding his, willing him to listen, to see reason. “You’re her father now. Do you truly want her to lose yet another? Do you want her to go through that all over again? Are you truly that selfish?”

  His jaw tensed, and he glared down at her. “Do you think I cannot best him?”

  “That’s not the point,” Caroline argued, drawing on her powers of persuasion. “Say everything goes according to plan. You seek him out and kill him, what then? Even peers can be tried and hanged for murder!”

  The savage spark in his eyes dimmed as his mind slowly grasped the straws she was holding out to him. “Then I’ll call him out,” he stated stubbornly, the need for revenge still pulsing violently in his veins. “It is done all the time no matter what the law says.”

  “Do you truly think he’ll fight fair if you give him fair warning?” Caroline demanded. “You know what kind of man he is. He would find a way to kill you.”

  Pierce scoffed—with everything that had happened between them, she could no longer think of him as Lord Markham.

  “And even if you should succeed in killing him,” Caroline argued as she stepped toward him, needing him to consider this from all angles, “there will be consequences for you. It is one thing for a duel to have no repercussions when both participants come out of it alive. But as soon as you kill him, the matter takes on a different severity.” She reached out and grasped his hands, feeling the tension that held him rigid. “You could hang for it. What about Daphne then?” If he didn’t care about himself, she needed to make him think about his daughter.

  His teeth ground together. “She’ll be provided for. I’ve made certain of that.”

  Caroline looked up into his eyes. “She’ll be heartbroken to lose you. You may not place much value in your own life, but she does.” As do I, she whispered silently. “Can you truly do this to her again?”

  His shoulders slumped and, for a moment, he closed his eyes. “What would you have me do? Ignore what happened?” His gaze burned into hers. “I cannot do that! I cannot!” The need to move, to do something hummed in his veins, and she could see that he stood on the brink of madness, consumed by the injustice of what he’d experienced.

  “And I would never ask that of you,” Caroline assured him, her hands once more holding him in place as her eyes sought his, afraid he would not hear her otherwise. “What I’m asking is that you find another way.”

  “There is none!” he snapped, then jerked his hands free and began stalking around the room like a man possessed.

  “There always is a way!” Caroline argued, her voice growing louder in accordance with his frustration. “Do you hear me? There always is.”

  He paused and looked at her, and she could see that he was fighting for control. “I cannot think right now,” he growled. “I…” He closed his eyes and inhaled a slow breath. Then he looked at her again, and it seemed he was seeing her for the first time. “What would you do?”

  Caroline nodded, grateful for the tight rein he forced on his emotions. “I would not risk being hanged for committing murder,” she told him, her gaze imploring. “I would find a way to have him hanged for committing murder. All of them. After all, he was not the only one there that night.”

  At her words, he stilled, and she could see his thoughts racing. A spark of hope came to his eyes as he once more began to pace. After a few restless minutes, he stopped, his eyes shifting to her. “But we have no witnesses,” he said into the stillness of the room as though expecting her to find a solution.

  Caroline did not know if she
felt honored or terrified. Perhaps a bit of both. “There’s Daphne.”

  He shook his head. “She’s a child. She was no more than three when it happened.”

  “Then find other witnesses,” Caroline urged. “Before, you didn’t know anything about the men other than that their speech suggested they belonged to upper society. Now, you know one of their identities. Retrace his steps. Find out what he did that day, whom he was with, where and when. Who saw him and where. Perhaps he boasted of that night to someone. Perhaps someone remembers something. If anyone can find out the truth, it is you.” Holding his gaze, she stepped closer. “Use their cowardice against them. They prey on the weak. That means they’re not strong men. Use that to your advantage. Intimidate them. Show them what fear is and make them turn on each other.”

  The hint of a smile lingered on his lips as he looked down at her. “How can anyone not see you?” he whispered as his eyes swept over her face. “You’re mesmerizing.”

  Caroline did not know what to say. Never had anyone looked at her the way he had from the start. It felt wonderful, and she never wanted to live without it ever again. It was like the sun had finally come out, and she could not imagine returning to the shadows.

  “You can do this,” she told him, ignoring his compliment for she did not know what to do with it. “But you need to be patient. You need to be reasonable and not act rashly. Think of Daphne.”

  Again, his body tensed. “When I think of her, I think of him and then I…” He clamped his mouth shut, and she could see his frame trembling with rage fighting to free itself. He began to pace once more, restless, unable to keep still, his thoughts and emotions jumbled. “I know I shouldn’t say this, but I feel like the only way to regain some peace of mind is to sink my fist into that man’s face.”

  “May I suggest an alternative?” Caroline heard herself say, feeling her pulse spike at her daring thoughts. Indeed, whenever he was near, she felt herself forgetting the world around her. Perhaps it also worked the other way around. Had it not already? Had he not forgotten—at least for a moment—about the horrors of his past when she’d been in his arms?