Whispered Kisses

by Taylor, Janelle

  “I’m Lady Leigh Hamilton. Lord Chadwick Hamilton of Webster International is my uncle. I was on my way to meet him for dinner. He’ll kill you if you harm me,” she cried breathlessly as she fought with the men, hoping to discourage them with fear of revenge.

  The crude beasts continued in their attempt to subdue the thrashing female, laughing and joking as if it was a child’s game. She pleaded with them to stop, but they chuckled and increased their efforts to assault her. She tried to reason with them, and offered them a reward if they let her go. Nothing worked, not threats, not resistance, not a bribe, not pleas, not reasoning, not appealing to their non-existent consciences!

  If she had ever doubted their malevolent intention, Leigh no longer did. They were enjoying her struggles, her helplessness, her feeble attempts to thwart them. Their lewd remarks singed her ears. Their cruel hands pawed at her. One sailor trailed slobbery kisses over her bare shoulder and back while the other one spread them over her face in his attempt to find her mouth. She wanted to retch. She screamed instead, and found hands clamped over her dry lips. Blind terror now ruled her senses.

  When the assailant’s hands moved so he could replace them with his mouth, Leigh screamed again and kneed him in the groin. He doubled over with pain and nausea, cursing her through ragged gasps for air. The other man swore at her and yanked her around to face him. He lifted one hand to strike her with brutal and disabling force as he called her terrible names and vowed she would be tortured for her action.

  Before the blow landed on her jaw, Leigh ducked her head to deflect it and didn’t see what happened next. The attacker’s wrist was seized and his arm was twisted behind him. Leigh was yanked from his bruising grasp and shoved against the brick wall as she was moved from between her assailant and her rescuer. Dazed and winded, she failed to comprehend the meaning of her sudden freedom and she braced herself for a renewed defense.

  A fierce struggle took place between the three men, which she witnessed as her quivering hands shoved her tumbled hair from her line of vision. She noticed that third man was attired as gentleman, and he fought with enormous skill and prowess. Although the odds were two against one, the sailors could not hold their ground against him. He moved with quickness and agility, landing his blows while managing to dodge theirs. Within minutes, her frightened attackers fled for their lives.

  Leigh’s chest heaved from her exertions and fear. She wished her champion had beaten her attackers senseless so they could be arrested and punished, but she was glad to be rid of them and to be safe. Leigh swayed against the wall and tried to slow her erratic breathing as she accepted the deliverance from peril. She was not a crier, but tears welled in her eyes and her shoulders trembled with relief and exhaustion. It was over, she told herself.

  “You all right, miss?” a deep and mellow voice inquired.

  Leigh lifted her head and nodded, unable to speak just yet. Her heart was still pounding. She wished she could sit down, as her legs were weak. Her rounded chin quivered, and she clenched her teeth to halt it. She ordered herself not to burst into sobs. She was safe now, thanks to this handsome man. Yes, her mind concurred, very handsome. He was standing in the middle of the alley where an adoring full moon embraced him with her silvery fingers. He was tall, several inches over six feet. His hair was deep brown and his skin was sun-bronzed. She could not make out his eye color from where she stood, limp and tremulous against the wall. She guessed that the stalwart man was over twenty-five. As her wits cleared and she relaxed, she hurriedly scanned him. He wore tapered fawn trousers, a dark-brown—unbuttoned vest, and an ivory—half buttoned—shirt, but no waistcoat or tie or jabot. His shoes appeared dark brown, and freshly shined from the way the moonlight shone on them. It looked as if he had been dressing when he rushed to aid her. Perhaps her screams had summoned him.

  He realized she was still shaken, so he kept his tone gentle. “Didn’t anyone tell you it isn’t safe for a beautiful young woman to be out alone at night, especially in this rough area?”

  His head never moved and his eyes never left her face, but she felt as if he was taking in every inch of her like a keen-eyed tracker seeking clues to solve a mystery. She straightened and went forward to stand near him, as if she were a child being drawn to the safety of a parent. In the bright moonlight she made out his features; they were chiseled, well defined. His jaw was strong, but not too square. There was a deep cleft in his chin she found very appealing. His hair was mussed, but looked as if it would be straight and thick when brushed neatly. As if taking a clue from her gaze, he ran his fingers through it like a makeshift comb. There were tiny lines near the corners of his incredibly green eyes that told her he was an out-doorsman, as did his tanned complexion. At closer inspection, his nose was a little large and had a small hump, but it only made him look more rugged and virile.

  Her gaze helplessly drifted down his throat as it moved with speech when he repeated his earlier question, to which she still did not respond. As he propped his hands on his hips, the movement drew her attention to them and his waist. He had a marvelous physique. Her gaze traveled upward again. His stance caused his unfastened shirt to gape, revealing dark hair on a hard-muscled chest. This stranger had a curious and unexpected effect on her. Never had reality faded or her wits fled in a man’s presence. She felt … mesmerized—yes, that was the correct word—by him, by the shadows playing over his handsome face, giving him an aura of mystery and potent enchantment. Her eyes returned to his and she took a deep breath, wondering how much time had elapsed while she had examined him like a prized stallion. Her voice, hoarsened from her desperate labors, sounded harsh when she replied, “I wasn’t out alone, sir. I became separated from my family and I didn’t know which way to head. I was seeking help. You don’t need to scold me like a child. It was a foolish accident, but those men had no reason or right to attack me. Even if they did mistake me for a … a prostitute, one shouldn’t be abused.”

  She realized her words sounded ridiculous and rude. This generous and stalwart man had endangered himself to rescue her from a precarious predicament. She must appear foolish and reckless to him, and her impulsive story didn’t ring true. She knew that from the reproving scowl on his face. She cleared her throat and explained. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so brusque and ungrateful. I haven’t settled down yet. I didn’t get separated from my family. I was to meet them at a restaurant for dinner, but the carriage driver left me here by mistake. He rode away before I realized my error and could halt him. If you hadn’t arrived …”

  The man studied her with keen interest. He liked her courage and belated honesty. He had watched her discover her error, try to solve it, then defend herself against the two rough brutes. She hadn’t burst into tears and he was glad, because he wouldn’t know how to deal with an hysterical woman. But he wouldn’t mind if she melted into his arms for comfort and protection. Even if she had been reckless tonight, she possessed endearing strength. She was exquisite, the rarest flower he had ever seen. Her eyes were a rich and deep blue, and they possessed a sparkle that diamonds would envy. Her hair was as golden as the afternoon sun on a dark river, even if it was falling down from its becoming style. He almost commented on its mussed condition but held silent because he liked its exotic and sultry look, like a lion’s tawny mane blowing in the breeze. She was slender, but very shapely, and she fought well when threatened. This was a vital creature who could enflame a man’s blood and loins; that he knew and felt for certain, especially with her gazing into his eyes.

  “I see,” he murmured. “Why did he let you off here?” He noticed the aura of wealth and genteel breeding exuding from her, but there was something strange about this incident. He glanced up the alley, praying she wasn’t a ravishing decoy and this wasn’t a clever ruse to lure him out of hiding. Surely no one knew of his presence.

  Leigh noticed his wariness as she admitted, “I told him to take me to number six Stams Street. That’s here, of course, so I must have read the addre
ss wrong on the invitation. He should have realized I was mistaken and corrected me, at least waited for me to discover my error. But he raced off as if a pack of starving wolves was after him. I looked for someone to help me, but it’s deserted here and I’m unfamiliar with this area. Then, those sailors tried to …” She inhaled and shuddered as the full reality of her near disaster settled in on her.

  “Here now, you’re safe. They won’t be back tonight.” He pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and with care dabbed at the blood easing from the corner of her mouth. With her head uplifted, the soft moonlight flowing over her face, and those vivid blue eyes engulfing him with interest and trust, he felt a curious sensation assail him, one akin to tenderness. “You best do this. I’m no good at doctoring and I could hurt you,” he said, the contact with her igniting new flames within him. How strange, he mused, for this little wisp of golden glory to enchant him completely.

  Leigh took the cloth and wiped at the redness on her chin. He grinned as she wet it with her tongue and washed away the last traces. Her tongue tested the injured area and she winced; she must have bitten the tender skin during her struggles. The cut would annoy her for a few days until it healed. She realized that he was observing her with bold intensity and open curiosity, and she warmed and trembled.

  “I know there isn’t a restaurant around here, not the kind you’re looking for. Do you know its name?” he asked, struggling to restrain the fiery urges that she sparked within him.

  “No, I don’t. I was only given the address—the wrong one. I hope you didn’t ruin your clothes,” she remarked, unsettled by this man who didn’t look the least ruffled—in appearance or manner—by his confrontation with those crude bullies.

  He glanced down at his garments and shrugged. “Too bad that little scuffle didn’t ruin them. Then I would have a logical excuse for skipping my dinner tonight.” That wasn’t the truth, but he had to respond in a polite and careful manner.

  Leigh laughed as she offered, “Perhaps I can reward you by dirtying them.” She sensed he hadn’t been truthful, because he didn’t seem a man who did what he didn’t want to do. If he had to attend an offensive dinner, he must have a good reason for doing so, and he didn’t need to explain himself to a total stranger in a dim alley.

  His smile was disarming and his laughter contagious when he sent forth both before replying, “Don’t tempt me, woman; I’m a weakling for heady amusement and unusual adventures.”

  “So am I,” she responded rashly, and saw a sensual smile capture his mouth and a matching gleam appear in those compelling eyes. “My cloak and purse,” she murmured to cover her slip in ladylike behavior. She glanced around for her possessions. This man had been a perfect gentleman so far, but the attraction between them was powerful and they were in a secluded location. She didn’t want him to mistake her gratitude and interest as wanton overtures and become too forward with her. “It’s getting late. I’d better go.”

  He retrieved her purse and cloak, and held them for her. “We’ll locate you another carriage with a better driver.” He smiled and offered her his elbow to escort her to the main street. It is late, very late, he agreed. He was too distracted by this fetching female and intoxicating episode, and she was too responsive for him not to notice and be affected. He had to get moving. He had plenty to attempt tonight under the cover of protective darkness.

  As they walked along, Leigh eyed him. His tanned face said he spent most of his time outside. His physical condition said he was an active man. His playful smile had revealed even, white teeth the color of virgin snow but with the power of a white-hot heat to melt it. Yet, it was his eyes, his arresting gaze, that paralyzed her until she felt brazen and weak. They were as green as newborn leaves in the spring. His gaze was alive, merry, mischievous, secretive. His rich voice returned her to reality once more.

  “Where are you staying?” he inquired as they halted beneath the streetlamp. If she had been missing very long, someone must be searching for her and might track her here. He had to get rid of her quickly and safely before his presence was discovered and he was arrested and imprisoned. His dark thoughts caused his tone to sound cold and annoyed when he added, “I’m very late for my dinner appointment. Let’s get you out of here. It’ll have to be back to the hotel because your clothes and hair are mussed. Surely you don’t want to go looking like this or tongues will wag like crazy.”

  Miffed, Leigh told him the name and address of the hotel. His change in mood baffled and surprised her. He was speaking to her like an errant child again! Suddenly she was very unsure of herself.

  Yet the man beside her was much too aware of her beauty and appeal. To him, she was a formidable magnet who was pulling him into greater peril. He’d already remained too long. A defensive and instinctive urgency to withdraw surged through him—for more than his physical safety. He had no time for this woman or romance. He needed to get out of sight fast, and out of London soon.

  Confused, distressed, and enchanted by this enigmatic stranger, she almost whispered, “I’m sorry I detained you so long. If you’ll be kind enough to help me find a carriage, I won’t trouble you further. I’m certain everyone is worried about me and out looking for me. I need to get to the hotel and repair my appearance.” She checked her gown and fretted. “It’s ruined, and it’s new.”

  Perceptive to her new mood and his, he softened and flashed her a crooked smile of apology. His accent was definitely British, she concluded. But why was he so mercurial and skittish? He wasn’t the type to be afraid of anything or anyone; his brave actions had proven his courage, compassion, and self-assurance. She was positive that his odd behavior had to do with more than the possibly unwanted attraction between them.

  His jungle-green gaze met her ocean-blue one, and he lost himself in those swirling pools. He caressed her flushed cheek and teased, “Don’t worry about making me late. I would skip tonight if there wasn’t something important I need to find …” His words halted as he realized he was talking too much to relax her. He lowered his hand and took a few steps away from her to cool his fiery blood. Perhaps it was because he hadn’t been near a very beautiful and desirable female in a long time. He had secluded exile and a foe’s treachery to blame for that denial. For what seemed like ages, all he had cared, dreamed, and thought about were justice and revenge. Soon, he would track them down and capture them, no matter what he had to do to his prey!

  Leigh watched him slip into brooding silence. As she waited before him for a carriage or his mental return, she recalled how his size, strength, and prowess had easily and swiftly discouraged her would-be assailants. Although she was five foot five, the top of her head only reached his shoulder. He was like a towering oak. His lean, firm body moved with ease and purpose. His stance and bearing were ones of self-confidence and vainless pride. She detected a smidgen of arrogance yet, he did not give off an “I know it all” air, only an “I do what I think is right.” Still, he seemed tense. No, she corrected herself, he seemed alert, like a rancher awaiting the arrival of ravenous wolves or dangerous rustlers after his stock. But why, she mused, when he believed her attackers would not return?

  Leigh remembered how glimmers of merriment and tenderness could soften his features in a blink. His face had planes and angles of strength and determination. In fact, his features were bold and striking with a royal or aristocratic hint. He could be very tough or extremely gentle, and she liked that heady mixture in a man—a blend her father had possessed. She sensed undercurrents of powerful emotions that were savagely tugging at him tonight like an unmerciful and stormy ocean at a drowning victim. She wondered what kind of problem was tormenting him and how he would solve it, with fists or wits—or with both. He was indeed the most virile, fearless, handsome man alive. He was even more appealing than Lord Chadwick Hamilton, which was a difficult task to accomplish. She was drawn to him and to the aura of excitement—and even a hint of danger—that exuded from him. Yes, she admitted, he was a stimulating blend of dang
ers and desires.

  Leigh pondered what it would feel like to have those sensual lips covering hers. Recalling the forceful and repulsive kisses which the sailors had placed on her lips and body, she rubbed her mouth as if to remove all traces of them. She shuddered.

  “Cold?” he asked, and came forward to put her cloak around her shoulders. He wiggled her purse onto her wrist.

  “Those vile beasts kissed me,” she murmured.

  On impulse, the dark-haired man lifted her chin and gazed into her responsive eyes. “Real kisses should be like this, my damsel in distress,” he murmured, then closed his mouth over hers.

  Leigh’s senses reeled at his touch and taste. His lips were gentle yet persuasive. They were seeking and hungry, yet controlled. She swayed against him and responded by returning his kiss and slipping her arms around his waist. His kiss deepened, and his embrace strengthened. Never had Leigh been held or kissed this way. She liked the wonderful sensations and wanted them to continue. The danger of such behavior escaped her. She was only aware of her desires.

  She pressed closer to him, their embrace becoming enticingly intimate. Her heart pounded as his skilled mouth aroused her to greater heights. She was floating in a dreamy land. Not once did she think, or want, to refuse him or to pull away. He moaned against her mouth and tightened his hold.