by Unknown
The man went for the purse, but Anna held onto it, battling him for it. He heard her yell something about him being a bastard. Before anyone could step in to intervene, the man pushed her to the ground. As she scrabbled to stand, the lout tried to run.
Harris snatched him by the collar and brought a fist across his face. Blood spurted from his nose, and he let loose a cry. The purse dropped from his hold and he scurried away. Scooping up the purse and the few belongings that had fallen from it, he hastened to Anna’s side.
Cheeks flushed, she shot him a look. “You.”
“Yes, me. I have your purse.” He handed it over, and she shoved the coins and paper back into it. He couldn’t help notice the writing on it—an address in the area that was far from a place for women of Anna’s breeding to visit.
“I—” She seemed to take a moment to compose herself. “Thank you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must be on my way.”
She had begun to make her way through the crowds before he’d said another word. He rushed after her. What was she doing here in this crowded market? And why was she unescorted? Foolish woman was going to get herself hurt or worse if she was not careful.
“Anna,” he called, but she ignored him, motioning to the nearest waiting hack.
He moved quicker. She would not evade him, and he certainly would not let her go without at least a telling off. How would he forgive himself if he didn’t warn her about certain areas of London and then she came to harm?
She glanced back at him and climbed into the carriage. He didn’t wait. Before it could set off, he opened the door and slipped in beside her.
She gaped at him. “How dare you?”
“Do I not even get a thanks?”
“I said thank you.”
“Hardly. That is not what I count as a thanks.”
Her eyes flashed in the shadows of the carriage. “I do not wish to know what you count as a thanks.”
“Come now, Anna, I don’t believe that for one minute.” Her posture stiffened and he knew it to be true. “Anyway, what were you doing at the market?”
“What were you doing there?” she countered.
“I’d intended to meet my brother.”
“Then he will be waiting for you.”
Harris waved a hand. “He can wait.” He tried a serious expression to see the impact it might have on her but as near as he could tell, it did nothing. “You should not be in such areas alone.”
“You’re not my keeper.”
“You damn well need one by the looks of it. What about that address?” He motioned to her purse. “You’ll be lucky to come out alive if you visit South Street.”
“What I do with my time is none of your business, Harris. Just because you came to my aid at one ball does not mean you have some say over me.”
“And I stopped that thief,” he pointed out.
“Fine. Just because you came to my aid twice does not mean you can tell me what to do.”
“I have little intention of letting my heroics go to waste.”
“Why you—” she spluttered and stopped to tap on the roof. The carriage came to stop outside the Grand Western Hotel. She quickly pushed past him and climbed out. He waited while she paid and she jutted up her chin, ignoring him pointedly when he followed her into the hotel.
“Anna,” he called, loud enough for most of the guests in the exquisite gold entranceway to hear.
Anna whirled at him, eyes flashing. Colour sat high on her elegant cheekbones, and he almost laughed at himself. There was nothing he wanted more than to kiss her, right here, right now.
In truth, the only thing preventing him from doing so was the fact they were in a hotel lobby and surrounded by people. Not that an audience ever really stopped him from doing what he wished but he knew, deep down, that if he ignited the spark that forever bounced between them, he wouldn’t be able to behave in any way close to a gentleman.
“Leave me alone, Cynfell.”
She stalked away again. He felt an idiot hobbling after her but he couldn’t very well leave things like this. Particularly, when she was so damn impressive when she was angry. He doubted he was the first man to see her furious and he would not be the last. But it was likely few of them appreciated her fire.
He did. Not that he’d tell her that. He left himself smirk as he hurried up the stairs after her, ignoring the pang in his leg.
If he told Anna Dubois her temper made her even more beautiful, he’d likely receive a slap. But, hell, he was only human. Few women ever raised their voice to him. Call him a fickle fool, he couldn’t help be further intrigued by her.
Anna had intrigued him from the beginning. Even more so now. Why was she so keen to deny the patent desire between them? Why, when she was a woman steeped in the business of pleasure?
Every day, she helped men—and a few women—escape their lives and indulge in what they enjoyed most. Whether any of that was exactly morally correct, he couldn’t claim to know, but there would be nothing wrong with two healthy, unattached, non-innocents enjoying each other’s company.
And, of course, his inquiring mind had to know why she was traipsing about the worst parts of London.
“Anna,” he called. His damned leg was slowly turning to fire.
Harris had the feeling he’d drag himself up the blasted stairs if he had to. And to think of how he’d teased his brothers for letting a woman bring them to their knees. Not that he’d let himself be tied up like they did, but he strongly suspected a night with Anna might be worth a few hours on one’s knees. Particularly if he found himself between a pair of creamy thighs.
This image spurred him on, and he ignored how breathless he was when he reached her floor. The swish of her skirts ahead paused and she twisted to eye him.
“Leave me alone.”
She fumbled in her purse for the door key, her cheeks growing brighter with every moment while he neared. He took a second to gather his breath, cursing his inability to horse ride at present. His fitness was at an all-time low after the gunshot wound. However, he wouldn’t let that prevent him from pursuing Anna. Any amount of pain or breathlessness would be so very worth it. And, well, she could always help him get back into shape, could she not?
He must have revealed a wicked smile. Anna scowled at him and cursed under her breath.
“Go away, Harris,” she said, facing him head on.
“Not until I have some answers.”
“I do not owe you anything.”
“I think you do.” He closed the gap between them. She backed up against the door.
From here, he could see the dimples in her cheeks perfectly. Two little indents that he wanted to run his fingers over. The kohl around her eyes was perfectly drawn on, elongating the slant of her eyes.
She did not need any rouge though. He’d done the trick well enough by firing her temper. A low, long, dragging ache started in his gut. Or didn’t start as such, merely continued. He suspected it had been residing there since the first time he’d set eyes on her. But it intensified. It became so powerful that it was likely any breathlessness had little to do with his fitness levels and everything to do with his need to taste her.
“Why...” She took a breath. “Why would you possibly think I owe you anything? I nursed you. I spent many an hour making sure you were well!”
“You did.” He reached out and fingered a dark glossy curl. He had her captive. There was entirely enough space for her to slip out from in front of him yet she didn’t. Because even if she didn’t want to admit it, this need running between them had her as wrapped up as it did him. “You would bandage my leg with your long fingers, brushing the inside of my thigh. I would grit my teeth and try not to get hard.”
Another sharp breath from her.
“You would lean over and plump my pillows. All I would have had to have done was lean forward a little, pull down your bodice and your breasts could have been in my mouth.”
“They would not. I wouldn’t have let you.”
Harris dropped the curl and gave her a knowing look. He saw it all in her eyes, heard it in her unsteady breaths. “Are you certain about that?”
“Yes,” she said through gritted teeth. “I nursed you as a favour to a friend and because you were hurt on my land. I did not take you in because I wished to be seduced. Don’t you think I have every chance of indulging my desires whenever I wish? Do you not think that I could have any one of the men who walk through my door?”
Heat rushed through his body. The words were bold—and false. He might have been confined to his bed for most of his time at Stourbridge, but he knew enough about how Anna ran the den of sin. She would never touch one of her guests.
“No,” he said firmly. “I do not think so.”
He closed the gap completely now. Her palms came up to his chest, but she didn’t push. Her hands were like hot coals burning through his clothing. He felt every tiny, flexing movement of them as she prepared to shove him away or accept him.
If she pushed, he’d go. But her hands remained still, her breaths heavy. Her gaze searched his.
“At the very least—” he flattened his chest against hers “—you owe me a kiss.”
Sharp, ragged desire etched his insides at the feel of her breasts against him. Even though confined to a corset and God knows what else under that jacket, they were there, rising and falling against his chest.
Her lips parted in a gasp. Anna Dubois was no innocent. By all rights, she was a fallen woman as much as he loathed that description. Yet he couldn’t help believe no one had spoken to her this way. Perhaps no one dared.
They could talk on, trade words for hours. He could continue to convince her they should explore this desire then extract her secrets from her. Or he could act.
And what choice did he really have?
Keeping his gaze upon hers until they were mere breaths apart, he brought his mouth down to hers. He savoured the hitch of her breath, the way her fingers curled into his shoulders. A hand to the back of her neck, he gripped her dark locks and kissed her hard. There would be no doubting he’d kissed her. He wanted the feel of his lips upon hers fixed in her mind.
The taste of her burrowed through his veins. It was brief—all too brief—as she ripped her mouth from his. He kept a hold of her, his breaths coming fast.
“You should not have done that,” she snapped, her eyes wild and all-too-appealing.
Before he responded, she fisted his jacket in both hands and yanked him close. Her lips were upon his—sweet, hot, fierce, and succulent. Harris cupped her face and pushed her hard against the wall. He took everything she had. This had been building the entire time they’d been together, and he’d been ready to unleash it for what felt like an eternity.
Anna opened her mouth to him and their tongues and teeth clashed over and over. A growl rose from the back of his throat.
He’d known. Somehow, he’d known. It was always going to be explosive between them. He’d been with many women, but few ignited him like she did, particularly at first sight. As soon as he’d stepped into her den of sin and seen the woman she’d grown into—a woman he finally wanted to pay attention to—he’d been aware this was where they were headed. If only she let him take her there.
And yet, he had not been prepared for quite how powerful it was. Each brush of her tongue made his head whirl. His cock had been hard from the moment their bodies had touched, but the deep-seated ache in his gut almost defeated the pain of his arousal. This—whatever it was between them—had to be explored further, there was no doubting that.
When he pushed his fingers into her hair and slid a hand down her side to feel the curve of her waist and the rise of a hip, she whimpered. He drew back long enough to eye her. She was as lost as he was.
He grinned to himself. Then he brought his mouth to her neck and the sweet gasp she released would stay with him forever. Hell, he couldn’t wait to have her gasping and crying out in bed. She’d be reckless, wild, noisy, he reckoned—the complete opposite to the buttoned-up persona he’d seen during his stay with her.
A noise broke through the haze. A cough, he realised.
He lifted his head and glanced down the corridor. A butler lifted his chin and breezed past them as if they were not standing in the hallways as close as two people with clothes on could be. He kept his body over hers, acting like a shield. The chances were the butler was used to being discreet, but Harris had no wish for Anna to be embarrassed.
Once the man was gone, he turned his attention back to the woman in front of him. Hot splashes of colour tinged her cheeks—darker than those brought about by desire. She tilted her head back against the wall and shook it.
“He did not see you.”
She laughed. “Do you really think it matters if he did? I am Anna Dubois. No one would find it at all scandalous for me to be kissing a man in public.”
Harris kept his gaze on her lips. Even if she didn’t consider it to be scandalous, he shouldn’t be considering kissing her again—at least not here. In her room, however...
“That’s enough, Harris,” she said softly.
“Enough what?”
“Enough looking at me like that?”
He knew. But that didn’t stop him from asking, “Like what?”
Her lashes rose and lowered while she took in his features and the look that likely told her how hot the desire ran through his body after that kiss. “As though you are about to do something even more scandalous.” She slipped from underneath him. “Why do you not find some other willing lady to scandalise?”
“What if I only have an interest in scandalising you?”
“Then you shall be sorely disappointed.” Anna turned her attention back to the little purse hanging from her wrist and found the key with ease.
“I think I won’t be the only one disappointed if we don’t pursue this.”
She clutched the key and arched a brow. Her lips pursed, as if trying to hold back her next question. “Pursue what?”
Harris let a smug smile tug his lips upward. If she was truly uninterested in him, she would not even care what he had to say. As much as she wanted to keep her passionate side hidden, it was there, desperate to be unleashed.
And he was determined to unleash it.
“This,” he said, keeping his voice deliberately low, “between us.”
“We are friends...no, acquaintances, Harris. Nothing more. You would do well to remember that. I am glad you are doing well and I’m pleased to have been able to help you, but if you’re expecting anything else from me, you’re a fool.”
“You’re the fool to deny yourself this.”
He plucked up a loose curl and tucked it back into one of the clips on her head. He noted the little flutter of her pulse at the base of her neck. Nodding with satisfaction, he stepped back. That heat was back in her cheeks again. He grinned to himself. Good.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Anna.”
She blinked at him. “Pardon?”
“Today has proved it is not safe for you to be in London unescorted, and so I am offering my services. Think of it as a repayment of my debt to you. While you’re here on business, I shall ensure your safety.”
“You’re mad,” she breathed.
“No, Anna. Just determined.” His grin widened. The idea had only just occurred to him, but he liked it very much.
He swivelled on his heel and waited for her door to slam behind him. It never came. He had the most satisfying image of her gaping at him as he strolled away. Leaving her a little uncertain would do no harm to his cause. Anna Dubois was far too used to being in control of everything. He liked that he could rattle her.
Tomorrow, he told himself as he strode to the stairs and made his way down to the reception floor. He would continue to rattle her until her defences all but shattered and broke. Then he could get her out from under his skin.
Chapter Four
Anna screamed. She couldn’t help herself. Harris had stepped out on her as soon as sh
e’d opened her hotel room door. She’d been expecting nothing but a view of the striped golden wallpaper but instead her vision had been filled with man.
Far too much man. Harris’ build took up most of the doorway. Even injury couldn’t diminish the impact of him. She’d wager there were few men brave enough to go up against a man like Harris. The only reason Francis had been emboldened had been drink.
A smirk danced on his lips and he propped his shoulder against the doorway. “Good morning.”
“What the devil are you doing here?”
His dark eyes travelled over her body, making her acutely aware of the tight cut of her plum-coloured jacket and skirt. By some miracle, she managed not to pat her hair or smooth her hands down her body. In spite of hardly being short herself, she found herself craning up to look into his dark, dark eyes.
It was interesting to her that she’d looked into those eyes before—in the face of Ash Cynfell—a man she considered a friend. And yet, they’d never made her feel as though her corset had been laced ten times tighter than usual. The slow, lazy look he gave her should not have had such an impact and yet it did.
But why? No man had interested her before. Why, of all men, did Harris Cynfell have to pique her interest? Where Ash was serious and surprisingly gentle for a man of his stature, Harris was a charmer and a rake—exactly the sort of man who’d brought her to the life she led now. Exactly the sort of man she saw every day at Stourbridge.
“Have you forgotten yesterday already?” His gaze somehow darkened. Her corset somehow tightened further. “I certainly have not.”
Of course she had not. It had been a long time since a man had kissed her. After her fall from society, she’d been with a few men—an attempt to erase the events of her younger years she supposed. When they’d managed to do nothing but make her cringe and her stomach roll, she’d ignored every member of the opposite sex unless they paid well to visit her establishment.
She did not want sex or romance from any of them, she only wanted to continue to thrive on their inheritances and incomes. Anna couldn’t help let a little thread of satisfaction weave through her. A man had caused her fall, had changed her life immeasurably. And now they were helping her create a new life for herself and many other women.
