Noble Scoundrel (Peril & Persuasion Book 1)

by Amy Sandas

  She took another deep breath, causing his gaze to flicker over the rise and fall of her breasts. “You have no reason to keep me,” she stated calmly, firmly. “You will release my brother.”

  He tensed his arms around her. The wall of his chest flexed and shifted against her breasts. A strand of his flaxen hair slid from his queue to brush her cheek. “And why would I do that after what you just pulled?” he asked in a sardonic tone.

  She could be wrong, but she had nothing to lose by being bold.

  “Because you orchestrated this little meeting, didn’t you? You were prepared for Mr. Boothe as soon as you entered this room, though I suspect my presence was a bit of a surprise.” His fingers tightened on her wrists and she continued with confidence. “You came here to ensure I wasn’t a threat to my brother. For some reason you want him to be safe. If that’s true, we’re on the same side.” After a brief hesitation, she added quietly, “Frederick needs me.”

  There was a long moment as they stared intently at each other. Their gazes both assessing and probing, weighing risks and calculating outcomes.

  After a bit he narrowed his eyes, shielding the mesmerizing light from within. “You’ve surprised me, Lady Katherine,” he muttered thickly. The roughness of his voice made her name sound dangerous and sultry. She tensed her thighs and steeled the muscles of her back to combat the sudden melty feeling inside her. “Not many people do.”

  “Then you’ll bring Frederick to me?” Her breathlessness wasn’t completely caused by the rush of hope that filled her at the possibility of finally being reunited with her brother.

  “No,” he replied. Stepping back, he released her hands, leaving the pistols in her grip. “But I’ll take you to him.”

  After turning away from her, he leapt back over his desk and started for the door.

  Terrified that he might be toying with her and utterly uncertain if she could trust anything he said, she stood stiffly in place. “Right now?”

  Casting a glance over his shoulder, he noted casually, “Unless you’d prefer to wait for a formal invitation to be sent round to Mayfair.”

  She rushed around the desk, safely tucking the pistols into the deep pockets of her cloak. She reached Hale just as he used his boot to shove the unconscious Mr. Boothe’s leg out of the way to open the door. Katherine looked down at the poor man who did no more than groan softly in response. “Are you going to just leave him there?”

  Hale tossed a dismissive glance at the former Runner. “He’ll be fine.”

  “On the floor?”

  A sardonic expression flashed across hard features. “He forced his way onto my property to attack me without provocation.”

  “He was working on my behalf.”

  His eyes narrowed. “I’m aware.”

  “He was simply trying to protect me.”

  “Then he shouldn’t have brought you to me.”

  Something in his words, or maybe it was how he’d said them—all coarse and threatening—struck an odd and sensitive chord inside her. Any remaining argument faded from her lips as the deep, dark stirring he’d inspired inside her returned in full force.

  When she didn’t reply and didn’t move, he glanced out the door and down the steps, then back to her.

  Then with a half sigh, half growl, he rolled his shoulders and crouched down to take ahold of Mr. Boothe. The unconscious man was hefted onto one broad shoulder as Hale stood to full height. His intense gaze flashed with ire, but he carried the man across the room and dropped him unceremoniously onto the worn sofa.

  Hale didn’t acknowledge Katherine again as he headed back out the door, scooped up his coat, and continued down the stairs.

  Lifting her skirts, Katherine followed with held breath, muttering a silent prayer that, after weeks of searching and worrying, she was finally going to be reunited with Frederick.

  Was she insane to trust the former bare-knuckle boxer currently leading her into the night?

  Absolutely.

  But she had no choice...no other avenues to explore.

  Despite his gruff demeanor and the fact that she still had no idea how Frederick came to be in his keeping, a sharp instinct inside her urged her to go with him.

  Chapter Four

  The entire ride to the house in the opulent carriage Lady Katherine had waiting around the corner from Hale’s office was a study in discomfort.

  Mason wasn’t accustomed to women of the nobility, though he’d been around a couple of them lately more than ever before. And this one possessed a quiet intensity that unsettled him. He’d expected a lady of her ilk to be arrogant and condescending, but he hadn’t expected her daring manner or the hint of cynicism that occasionally crept into her tone.

  “Wait here,” he stated curtly when they entered the house, sending her a hard look he hoped would keep her in place. The effect was likely ruined when his gaze swept over her cloaked form with the hope of catching a glimpse of her figure.

  Mason was an unabashedly carnal sort of man. He enjoyed fornication and all that came along with the act—the physical nature of it, the sounds, smells, heat, and mindlessness. But he wasn’t some randy idiot who couldn’t control himself.

  Still...as he recalled those brief moments when she’d been confined in the circle of his arms—how her lithe, female body had tensed with bold defiance—heat roared through him.

  The glitter of her steady, challenging gaze within such refined and elegant features tripped a previously undiscovered sexual trigger. That and how she managed to maintain an effective tone of command despite being at an obvious physical disadvantage. The woman simply refused to acknowledge when she was beaten.

  And it seemed he enjoyed a little haughty disdain in a woman. Who knew?

  Flicking his attention back up to her face, he noted her narrowed expression. Lady Katherine didn’t appear to appreciate his perusal any more than she’d liked being physically bested. Imagine what she would have done if he’d nipped the soft skin of her throat with his teeth like he’d been tempted to do while her hands had been secured behind her back.

  Knee him in the groin, most likely.

  With a low chuckle, he turned and left her in the entryway, where the garish décor couldn’t be disguised even by the lowered lamplight as he took the stairs two at a time to the upper levels of the townhouse.

  The third floor was quiet, which wasn’t unusual. Mason had already learned that Freddie wasn’t a roughhousing, rambunctious type of child. And Claire...well, Mason’s daughter was still suffering from the aftereffects of what she’d gone through before Mason had been able to find her. He would forever be grateful to Dell Turner for locating his daughter before she’d been shipped off English soil, but he’d never forgive himself for allowing her to fall into such wretched hands in the first place.

  He found the children in the schoolroom, as expected. Freddie sat in one corner of the thickly cushioned window seat with Claire snuggled up beneath his arm. The toddler’s pale curls contrasted against the boy’s dark coat. Her pudgy little hand was curled over his arm and her soft, feathering eyelashes swept her cheeks as she listened to him reading the storybook open in his lap.

  Perhaps it had been a mistake to bring Freddie into his household, knowing he wouldn’t be able to stay indefinitely. But the girl had become fiercely attached to her young protector during their plight with Bricken’s gang. It would have been cruel to tear them apart when Claire still hadn’t developed the same level of trust in her father.

  Guilt and regret squeezed like a fist around Mason’s heart as he recalled the night he’d fought his way into Bricken’s warehouse with Turner. Pale with fear, wearing nothing but a dingy nightgown, her hair a tangle about her head, tear streaks on her smudged face, Claire had clung in terror to the larger boy. The moment had been made even more poignant when Freddie bravely placed himself between her small body and Mason’s much, much larger one. It had taken Claire a few moments to recognize Mason, and though it had nearly broken his heart, i
t was his own blasted fault his daughter had hesitated when he’d opened his arms.

  His chest tightened with self-directed anger. He’d never make the mistake of trusting his daughter’s care to anyone else ever again. He might not have the slightest clue how to be a proper father, but he’d keep the girl safe from further harm if it killed him. Unfortunately, there would be no way to prevent her little heart from breaking when Freddie left.

  Swallowing past the harsh burn of regret in his throat, Mason walked into the room but said nothing as his appearance drew the focus of two pairs of wary eyes. He had long ago gotten used to the fear his size and boorish manner tended to inspire in people, but seeing the flash of uncertainty in his own child’s eyes hit him deeper and harder than any blow he’d received in the ring.

  Claire’s nurse stood from the rocking chair in the corner where she’d been sitting quietly with a pile of knitting in her lap. He gave the older woman a nod and waited as she silently slipped from the room before he lowered to a crouch. Holding his arms out, he offered Claire a smile. “Come here, sweet pea.”

  After a moment of hesitation when she glanced up at the dark-haired boy, who gave an encouraging smile, his little girl climbed down from the raised bench and crossed to Mason. Lifting her hands, she allowed him to scoop her in for a hug. The feel of her hands around his neck squeezed his heart, but he was undeniably aware of just how small and precious she felt in his hold.

  He wasn’t made for comfort and softness, and that was what Claire needed more than anything. Feeling inadequate in ways he’d never expected to experience, he only held her for a moment before letting her go again.

  Glancing over her head, he met the dark, unflinching gaze of the boy who’d told them nothing about himself beyond his name. As if sensing something of import had occurred, Freddie rose swiftly to his feet, but he didn’t speak.

  The boy was so bloody self-contained and unreadable. Mason had never known of a twelve-year-old to behave with such steadiness and emotional restraint.

  “Someone’s here for you,” he noted bluntly.

  There was a pause but no evident change in the boy’s demeanor. “Who is it?”

  “She claims to be your sister.”

  Something flared in Freddie’s brown eyes before being replaced with gentle concern as his attention flickered to Claire.

  Before Mason could wonder about the reaction, the moment was interrupted by a sharp inhalation from behind him. “Frederick!”

  Apparently, Lady Katherine had been unwilling to wait in the hall, and she now swept past Mason to enclose Freddie in a tight embrace. The boy’s eyes closed as he rested his face against her shoulder and clasped her fiercely in return. But he soon pulled away, straightening his posture.

  She let him, stepping back to place her hands on his shoulders as her gaze scanned swiftly over his person. “Tell me you are all right.”

  The boy nodded, his expression stoic once again. But if his reserved manner was any kind of surprise to his sister, she didn’t show it. “What happened? Why didn’t you tell me where you were in the note you sent?”

  “I told you I was all right.”

  She released a breath that could’ve been part relief, part exasperation. “You did, but you gave me no explanation, no way for me to find you.”

  “I’m sorry, Kit. It wasn’t my intention to worry you.”

  The woman’s eyes widened, but then the corners of her lips curled. “You know quite well that nothing can keep me from worrying about you.”

  “And I know you would’ve come to fetch me as soon as you knew where I was.”

  “Of course.” Her brows dipped into a frown.

  While the two had been talking, Claire had slowly sidled away from Mason and now slipped her hand into Freddie’s as she pressed herself to his side. It was something she did whenever she was feeling uncertain, and the sight of it dug at Mason’s heart.

  Lady Katherine looked at the girl with a gentle smile. “Hello there. I am Lady Katherine. What is your name?”

  Claire smiled as pink touched her cheeks, but she turned to hide her face against the boy’s side.

  “This is Claire,” Freddie answered for her. Leaning down to the girl, he added gently, “This is my sister, Kit. Remember? I told you about her.”

  “It’s lovely to meet you, Claire.”

  Whether it was due to Freddie’s assurance or the woman’s softened tone, Claire responded by turning to give another shy smile.

  Still talking to the little girl, Freddie added, “Would you like to show your papa what we discovered in the parlor this morning?” When she nodded, the boy’s steady gaze slid to Mason. “May I have a few moments with my sister, Mr. Hale?”

  Mason shifted his attention back to Lady Katherine. Though her eyes were as deep brown as he’d suspected, he could now see by the light of the schoolroom that her dark hair held an auburn richness he hadn’t been able to detect in the dimmer light of his office.

  The hint of fiery warmth suited her.

  “Perhaps we should be on our way,” she said. Her tone wasn’t nearly as soft as the one she’d used for his daughter and Mason felt a bit cheated.

  He glanced to Freddie, who quietly returned his gaze, awaiting his reply.

  “Take your time,” he replied, stepping forward to hold a hand out to Claire. When she reached him, he swept her up into his arms. “There’s no rush. We’ll be in the parlor.”

  Lady Katherine’s brows tugged into a frown. She clearly didn’t like having her wishes overridden. Mason didn’t bother holding back his chuckle as he strode from the room.

  Chapter Five

  Katherine waited a few moments after the irritatingly amused Mr. Hale stepped out of view before turning back to her little brother. It took everything in her not to draw him back into another embrace. Her relief at finding him alive and well was immense—as was her surprise that Hale had actually delivered her to him—but she knew the display of physical affection would only discomfort her brother. The last thing in the world she wanted was to be the source of any more stress than his ordeal had likely already caused him.

  When she’d awoken that morning so many days ago—it felt like a lifetime already—to find him gone from his bedroom at their house in Mayfair, she’d swallowed down her instinct to panic. Her brother was getting older, and he’d been struggling with his grief over their father’s tragic death and the loss of the only home they’d ever known. She knew he liked to go off alone when he was distressed, and she had been trying to allow him that even though everything in her wanted to swoop in and rescue him from his hurt and confusion.

  When her extensive search of the house and grounds came up fruitless, she’d been beside herself. Fear had nearly debilitated her until she’d realized that giving in to the panic wouldn’t find her brother. Lord Shelbourne’s advice to handle the matter discreetly had been difficult to accept when she’d wanted to alert every constable in the city. But he’d convinced her that a widespread search could put her brother at greater danger. Despite the days of no word, the method had finally paid off.

  Though she held herself back from embracing him again, she soaked up the sight of her brother’s face—a perfect blending of their father’s stern intelligence and their mother’s deep compassion—and felt nearly overwhelmed with relief at having him safely within reach again.

  As his steady gaze met hers, she offered a tentative smile. “I’m guessing you have quite a tale to tell.” And she had so many questions.

  A brief shadow crossed his features before he replied. “There are things you won’t enjoy hearing about.”

  Katherine’s chest tightened. What had he been through? She wanted to wrap him up in her arms and never let him go. She restrained herself. Barely.

  Gesturing toward an unfortunately colored lime-green sofa set before the fireplace, she said, “Perhaps we should sit.”

  He nodded and led the way.

  Settling in beside each other, she offered her h
and, palm up in the space between them. For the first time in a long time, her brother did not hesitate to put his hand in hers. The solid warmth of his palm and the strength on his fingers intertwined with hers was assuring.

  “The beginning is usually a good place to start,” she suggested.

  Her brother took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Keeping his gaze trained on the edge of the pink-and-white patterned rug spread out on the floor in front of them, he began. “You know how I have a hard time getting to sleep sometimes?”

  Katherine nodded. It had been that way since he’d been a baby. He’d never wanted to go down for naps and had fought bedtime like it was some sort of punishment. When he was little, Katherine had often sat at his bedside, telling stories about mythical creatures that lived in the woods near their home or singing soft lullabies to ease him to rest. But it’d been years since she’d done that.

  “Well,” he continued hesitantly, “after we came to London, I’d get so restless at night. I just couldn’t be still. So...I started going for walks.”

  Fear and anxiety gripped her. “You went out in the city alone?”

  He nodded and sat a little taller, though he still avoided looking at her.

  Her little brother had been walking the streets of London. At night! Possibly for months.

  “Walking up and down the avenues and boulevards helped bring things into focus,” he explained. “I could envision how the city’s pattern spread out around me, how the lines flowed and intersected. Around every corner, a new corridor would open up. It felt endless but measurable. Every block was the same as the one before but also utterly different. It...calmed me, I guess. The more familiar the expanding grid became, the more balanced and, I don’t know, steady, I felt.”

  Katherine sighed.

  From a very young age, Frederick had displayed evidence of having exceptional intelligence. He’d learned to speak early and by three years of age had amassed an extensive vocabulary. He’d mastered reading and sums shortly afterward. But he’d always had an intense affinity for patterns. Intricate designs and complex systems fascinated him. He adored mazes and puzzles, but eventually he struggled to find any that challenged him.