Noble Scoundrel (Peril & Persuasion Book 1)

by Amy Sandas

  Heat rushed swift and distracting through her blood.

  Why did this man affect her so viscerally? She’d never experienced anything like it before. And she wasn’t sure she appreciated it now.

  Once the stocking was removed, she straightened and stared over his head to the window across the room. She did such a good job of concentrating on everything but his hands on her bare skin that it took her a bit to notice the care and efficiency in his touch as he spread the noxious smelling mixture over her throbbing ankle.

  After a short while she found herself relaxing back into the pillows. When he shifted his hands to her foot, it took a significant amount of willpower to keep her eyes from drifting closed as she luxuriated in the feel of his thumbs pressing into the taut flesh of her heel before sweeping along the soft arch to circle over the pad of her foot.

  “Loosen your gown.”

  His voice sent shivers down her spine. Delicious shivers. Enticing shivers. When she didn’t answer right away, his eyes sparked and his lips twisted subtly at the corners. “I need to see to your shoulder.”

  Vulnerability rushed through her. It was an uneasy, unfamiliar feeling. “That won’t be necessary.”

  Tawny brows lowered over an intent stare. “Loosen the frock, Lady Katherine.”

  A long pause followed his bold command while Katherine struggled with the uncertain fluttering in her belly and the urgent need to regain some semblance of control over the situation. As the thoughts in her head twisted and turned around the sensations he’d inspired by his care and attention in his dealings with her person so far, he simply watched her with a weighted stare.

  Katherine wanted so badly to refuse further assistance. If not for the sake of propriety—which seemed long gone already—then as an attempt at regaining some autonomy. She was not accustomed to putting herself literally in someone else’s hands, and she could feel her anxiety increasing by the second. But her tortured shoulder needed attention and Hale was right—he was all she had at the moment.

  “It fastens up the back,” she finally answered stiffly. “I cannot reach.”

  He smiled—a particularly wicked sort of grin—and her insides twisted. “I reckon I can manage as lady’s maid.” His voice lowered as he added, “Though I can’t say I’ve ever had my hands on anything so fine.”

  As he rose to his feet, she leaned forward, making sure to cradle her arm as she did so. Though the pain in her shoulder was significantly reduced and the numbness was gone, she still felt a distinct instability in the joint.

  He shoved the pillows out of the way once again so he could take a seat behind her. As the mattress sank under his weight, she had to lean even farther forward to keep from tipping right back into his lap.

  Once he was settled, she felt his touch at the side of her neck as he swept the full length of her hair to one side then over her shoulder to better access the buttons running down the back of her gown. The light drift of his blunt fingertips across her nape caused a tingling rush of chills down her spine.

  With her breath held and her lower lip caught between her teeth, she remained tense and still as he released the fastenings of her gown. His fingers were defter than she’d expected, and the neckline of her gown soon gaped enough that she had to press a hand between her breasts to keep it from falling to her lap.

  Cool air brushed the bare skin of her back above the chemise and corset she wore. Every nerve in her body was drawn taut as he eased the shoulder of her gown down on her injured side. He did the same with the thin strap of her camisole. At least he wouldn’t have to loosen her corset to access her shoulder. The stiff, unyielding garment felt like a necessary piece of armor she couldn’t afford to lose.

  In the pause that followed—as she felt his gaze moving over her bare skin—she thought she heard him make a low sound, but she couldn’t be sure.

  Then he picked up the jar from the bedside table. The pungent scent of the medicinal mixture filled her nostrils as he began to spread it over her skin. Starting at the curve where her neck met her shoulder, he worked his way down.

  Though she’d already experienced the unexpectedly gentle efficiency of his touch on her ankle and foot, she was still surprised by how utterly languid she became under his hands. Even as the wide flat of his roughened palm smoothed over the most tender area of her injury, he did not cause discomfort.

  And when he expanded his attention to the muscles that ran along either side of her spine, she couldn’t stop her posture from softening into his touch any more than she could hold back the deep sigh that released from her lungs.

  But then his hands left her. Suddenly and completely.

  Katherine stared straight ahead, noting how the air around them felt charged in an odd way. Though she was compelled to turn and look at him, she resisted. Not because she feared what she might see in his gaze, but because she feared what he might see in hers.

  “You’ll need to keep your arm in a sling for a week or more,” he said gruffly. “And no leaping from carriages into moving traffic for a while.”

  “Frederick doesn’t need to know the extent of”—she waved a hand—“this.”

  He gave a short grunt. “He knows.”

  She sighed. The sound was heavy and long. One more thing she was failing to protect her brother from.

  Hale was silent as he lifted the strap of her chemise back into place and then her gown before quickly doing up the row of buttons. As soon as the last one was secured, he rose to his feet. Taking up the length of cloth he’d brought up with the poultice, he fashioned it into a sling to support her injured arm. Again, his attentions were surprisingly gentle and efficient.

  Once he was satisfied with the makeshift support, he turned away from her without meeting her eyes. “I’ll fetch Freddie. He’ll want to know you survived so much time alone with me.”

  Katherine watched him walk from the room with an odd pressure filling her chest.

  Chapter Nine

  Katherine struggled through the process of tugging her stocking back on with one hand. The swelling around her ankle hadn’t gotten too much worse, but the purple discoloration was disconcerting. Carefully, she replaced her boot but couldn’t pull the laces very tight.

  It would have to do. If she’d managed to race through the London streets with the injury, she should be able to get home.

  Home and away from Mason Hale.

  The man was simply too much. Too big, too blatantly male, too intense with his bold gaze and even bolder manner. Too everything!

  “Are you all right, Kit?”

  Katherine looked up to see Frederick hovering in the doorway. She gestured for him to come into the room. “Of course. I told you I’d be fine.”

  He crossed to sit at the foot of the bed. His nose wrinkled in distaste. “What is that awful smell?”

  “A poultice Mr. Hale insisted on applying to my injuries. Hopefully, the smell will dissipate soon.”

  With a nod of assurance, Frederick noted, “I knew he’d be the right person to help us.”

  “It was a good decision to bring us here,” she acknowledged, “but now we need to be returning home.”

  When her brother straightened his spine, she realized they were about to have an argument.

  “Maybe we shouldn’t?”

  Katherine arched a brow. She had no idea what her brother was suggesting exactly, but she could see by his manner that he was completely in earnest.

  “What do you mean? Of course we should go home.”

  Her brother’s eyes darkened. “There were a few details about the initial kidnapping I didn’t relate to you. I couldn’t properly fit them into the puzzle, so I left them out until their existence made more sense.”

  She’d suspected he’d been holding something back. “And now they do?”

  He nodded. “The abduction by the criminal gang was clearly random. But the first pair I encountered that night—the men who locked me in the cupboard—their motive was very different. They had not
been part of Bricken’s gang,” he continued. “Their manner of dress, their dialect, their modus operandi...all different, not to mention the distance I walked after escaping them. They operated in a different neighborhood from Bricken. A different territory.” He paused. “I didn’t mention this before, but while I was locked in the cupboard, I was able to listen in on much of their conversation.”

  Despite the dread rising inside her, Katherine remained still and patient. Frederick often took his time explaining something, but only because he felt every detail to be important. Most often, it was.

  “After they’d gotten me to the inn, they’d sent a message to someone. They were awaiting his arrival when I escaped.” His expression hardened and for a moment he looked a great deal older than his years. “Kit, the abduction wasn’t random. Someone had hired them to take me. Me, specifically.”

  In the days since she’d gotten Frederick back and heard his initial telling of what had happened, Katherine had done her best to make sense of it all. Although she’d come to the same conclusion about the encounter with the criminal gang, the only explanation she’d managed for the initial kidnapping was that it had been for ransom. Anyone who’d glanced at Frederick would have recognized his affluence. The two men who’d come upon him alone at night had likely just seized upon the opportunity.

  But what her brother just said strongly contradicted that theory. “And today,” she noted, “was another attempt.”

  Frederick nodded. “I believe so. But I cannot figure out who would do such a thing and what exactly they’d hope to accomplish with my abduction. Although it could have been as simple as a targeted kidnapping for ransom, there is a possibility my death was their ultimate intent.”

  Katherine’s heart dropped like a stone to her stomach before rising again to get caught in her throat. The idea of anyone wanting her uniquely clever, compassionate brother dead was unbelievable. It couldn’t possibly be true.

  “Why would they have gone to the trouble of taking you captive?” she argued. “Wouldn’t it have made more sense for them to have taken care of the...task right away if that was their intention?”

  She couldn’t believe they were actually discussing such a possibility.

  Frederick, bless him, didn’t seem bothered by the subject any more than he would have been by any puzzle he hadn’t yet solved. “I thought of that as well. The only answer is that the person who hired them wanted to be an eyewitness to my demise. Perhaps for assurance...or because the matter is of a personal nature.”

  Katherine shook her head in fierce denial. “No one on earth could have such cause.”

  Dark solemn eyes met hers. “Our guardian.”

  As their late grandfather’s younger brother, the Marquess of Warfield wasn’t only their guardian, he was also the next in line to inherit the dukedom and would undoubtedly benefit the most from Frederick’s death.

  “But Warfield has been abroad for years and has made it quite clear that he has no intention of ever returning to England.”

  Frederick’s gaze became troubled and wary as his expression tensed with frustration. “If it’s not him, then what else could possibly be gained by such actions? And who else would have cause to instigate them?”

  Katherine suddenly recalled the image of the tall man in the black greatcoat and top hat. How he’d seemed to be watching them only moments before they were set upon in their carriage. Had his interest been a simple coincidence or could the dark stranger be linked to the attacks?

  When she’d seen him, she’d had a subtle sense of recognition, but he was far too young to be the marquess.

  “If it’s not a play for the inheritance, then what could the motivation be?” Frederick asked quietly as though voicing his thoughts without realizing it. “I suppose we cannot ignore the possibility that you are the true target. They might have taken me to get to you for some reason.” He made a sound of frustrated disgust as he shoved a hand back through his tousled hair. “There are too many unknowns. Too much that doesn’t make sense.”

  Katherine placed her hand on his shoulder to draw his focus back to her. “Listen to me. Whatever is behind this threat, we will sort it out together. Haven’t we always done that? No problem has ever been too great for the two of us.”

  Her brother stared at her for a long moment, and she was reminded of the fact that, although he was more intelligent than anybody she’d ever met, he was still just a boy who had gone through a great deal over the last several months.

  When he finally nodded, she smiled encouragingly. “One step at a time. The first of which is returning home.”

  Frederick’s chin lifted stubbornly. “Whoever is behind this, they’ve tried twice now. They will try again. What’s to stop them from coming to the house?”

  The thought of relocating flashed through her mind, but hiding would solve nothing. Until they discovered who was behind the abductions and what their ultimate motivation was, there would always be a threat. And Frederick deserved far better than that for his future. He was quickly becoming a man. A duke with responsibilities.

  “Perhaps we should stay here for a while,” Frederick suggested as though hearing her thoughts aloud. “Just until we figure out what to do.”

  “Frederick, you know that’s not possible.”

  “Why not?”

  She opened her mouth as she struggled for a proper argument in the face of her brother’s calm certainty. “For one thing, the décor is horrendous.”

  As she’d hoped, the comment tugged a small smile from her brother’s lips as he cast an assessing glance about the room. “I thought you liked the color pink,” he said thoughtfully.

  “For an occasional gown or in a bouquet of flowers. Not coating every surface of my surroundings.” She made a face of painful disgust. “Why on earth would Mr. Hale choose to live within such atrocity?”

  Frederick shrugged. “It was all he could get on short notice after saving Claire and me. I don’t think he intends to stay here long. But you do make an excellent point. This place really is dreadful. Instead of staying here, it would probably be best if Mr. Hale came to stay with us.”

  Katherine’s stomach flipped at the thought. “Frederick, why on earth would you suggest such a thing?”

  “Because it’s the perfect solution.”

  “Frederick...”

  “Think about it, Kit. He is a trained fighter. Undefeated during his time in the ring and I’d suspect out of it, as well. We could hire him as a bodyguard.”

  She sighed. It appeared her brother had developed a near-worshipful view of Hale. Following the loss of their parents and the trauma of his most recent experiences, Katherine could appreciate how he might be drawn to someone so strong and capable and fearless, but that didn’t mean they could invite the man into their household.

  “I’m sure Mr. Hale is a very skilled fighter, but that doesn’t make him a suitable bodyguard.”

  “He rescued me from the warehouse and kept me safe since.”

  “It wouldn’t be proper.”

  “No less proper than having our butler and footman residing with us.”

  Placing Hale in the same category as a trained servant—someone skilled in appearing innocuous and unobtrusive—was seriously laughable.

  “Just think on it, Kit. It really does make sense.”

  Rising to his feet, Frederick gave her a steady gaze. Anyone else would have looked at him in that moment and seen a confident, sturdy young man, but Katherine knew him too well. His expression was neutral but tension hovered in the set of his shoulders and the way he clasped his hands behind his back. His eyes flickered with emotions he tried to conceal—fear, uncertainty, frustration. With a glance toward the door, he noted, “Claire’s nurse took her to the kitchen for some fresh-baked pastries. I just wanted to check on you before joining her. I’m sure I’ll still be there when you’re ready to leave.”

  Without waiting for a reply, he turned and left.

  Katherine sighed. Her brot
her clearly hoped she would consider his wild suggestion. But he should know better. There was nothing to consider. Despite his obvious devotion to his daughter and his desire to repay the debt he felt he owed to Frederick, his involvement in illegal fights made Mason Hale no better than a criminal himself. Not at all the type of person she could entertain the thought of hiring to protect her brother—a duke, for goodness sake—while living in their home.

  It was ludicrous, really.

  Katherine carefully brought her feet to the floor and tried to stand. The throbbing in her ankle nearly had her sitting down again, but the leather of her boot provided some stability. Her shoulder ached as well, but the pain wasn’t nearly what it had been before Hale repositioned her shoulder.

  Tentative steps brought her to a heavily filigreed mirror hung above a washstand. Her eyes widened at the sight that greeted her in the glass.

  She hadn’t realized just how wretchedly tangled her hair had become during their flight. Without thinking, she tried to lift her hands to tame it and felt an instant rejection in her shoulder.

  On a ragged exhale, she lowered her injured arm back into the sling.

  Using only one hand, she tried to twist her waist-length hair into submission. It was a near hopeless attempt, but it gave her a distraction from the unwanted thoughts that kept crowding her mind.

  No matter how much she tried to sort through the information they had about the attacks on Frederick, she only came up with two reasons to kidnap a duke...for ransom or to claim his inheritance.

  Which put the Marquess of Warfield as primary suspect—despite the fact he wasn’t even in England—in the latter instance and an unlimited number of potential suspects in the former. She hadn’t thought many people were even aware that the new Duke of Northmoor was in London, but someone had hired men to take Frederick.

  They needed to sort the facts from the suppositions. There had to be something to point them in the right direction.