Noble Scoundrel (Peril & Persuasion Book 1)

by Amy Sandas

  And in the meantime, Frederick needed protection. Until they knew who was behind it all, her brother would be in perpetual danger. A bodyguard was actually an excellent idea. Someone well-trained, fearless, intelligent, and loyal. Someone who could understand the manner of men they’d be facing and readily thwart further attacks.

  She could practically hear her brother’s voice. Someone like Mr. Hale.

  Maybe she should send a letter to Lord Shelbourne. He’d recommended Boothe when Frederick had first gone missing. He might also recommend a worthy bodyguard.

  But then again...Boothe hadn’t really done much. He hadn’t actually found Frederick. Hale had been the one to bring them to him.

  And the retired Runner certainly hadn’t held his own against the former boxer in a fistfight. The day after she’d brought Frederick home, Mr. Boothe had come around to the house. He’d been bruised and apologetic over how easily he’d been dispatched by Hale. Katherine had assured him all was well, and the man had been visibly relieved to hear that the young duke had been returned. At the time, she hadn’t been completely certain his relief wasn’t due to the fact that he wouldn’t have to face Hale’s fists again.

  After having witnessed that particular bout, she wholly believed in Hale’s undefeated status.

  What would have happened if the most recent abduction had been attempted with Hale in the carriage?

  She’d been twisting the length of her hair around and around her wrist as she’d been thinking, and she released it now with a puff of breath.

  Was she actually considering Frederick’s suggestion?

  Her one and only priority was her brother’s safety. A task that was twofold: they had to ensure he wasn’t vulnerable to another attack, which meant a guard, and they needed to investigate into the source of the threat and eliminate it.

  They couldn’t begin to focus on the second part until the first was addressed.

  But Hale?

  His manners were crude, his attitude irreverent and far too bold. But what did any of that matter if the man kept her brother out of harm’s way? Whatever the source and cause of this threat to Frederick, it was beyond anything either of them had faced before. Her brother was everything that mattered.

  She couldn’t lose him.

  Chapter Ten

  Over the years, Mason had occasionally helped aspiring boxers ready themselves for the ring. He’d also trained men for positions at bawd houses, gambling dens, and other establishments that benefited from having competent bouncers. It had been a way for him to stay fit and physically conditioned, but he’d never considered focusing on training as his main vocation.

  Now that his debt to Freddie had been repaid and the boy had been reunited with his sister, Mason needed to start planning for a new future. Running stakes for fights had been lucrative, but it was unstable, risky, and occasionally dangerous. With Claire his main priority, he needed to look toward work that was more consistent, and training fighters and bouncers seemed like a good option.

  He’d come to his study intending to work on developing more of his plans in regard to the possible new venture. Instead, he sat at his desk thinking of how the woman upstairs had looked with her auburn hair falling in messy waves around her shoulders. And the way her brown eyes flashed beneath furrowed brows when she was annoyed. There was something uniquely intriguing about her features that struck a bold balance between a sort of delicate austerity and simple elegance.

  With a sound of frustrated surrender, he withdrew some paper and a piece of charcoal from the desk drawer and began to sketch in broad strokes that eventually transitioned to more detailed lines and delicate curves. After several minutes he paused to take a critical look at the result. He’d managed to capture the basic elements of Lady Katherine’s appearance—the fine bone structure, the wide eyes, the plush lips, and straight, almost heavy eyebrows. But he couldn’t see the fire. The intensity of the woman herself.

  He was about to start again on a fresh page when there was a soft knock on the open door. Lady Katherine stood in the threshold.

  Her light blue frock was creased and rumpled, her hair was still a tangle down her back, and her injured arm was tucked into the sling. She shouldn’t be on her feet with a twisted ankle, but the woman wasn’t exactly inclined toward taking suggestions from him. Despite her injuries and obvious dishevelment, she still somehow managed to look every inch the gentlewoman.

  Poised and perfect. Her posture strong and serene. Even the tone of her voice was softly confident when she spoke. “Mr. Hale.”

  When he didn’t reply or move to stand, she released a puff of breath and strode forward into the room with a look of determination he was starting to become familiar with. He should have risen to his feet, but he didn’t. He liked how his rudeness made her press her lips together while her eyes flashed with irritation.

  As she neared, she glanced down at the sketch on his desk. A frown darkened her expression as she tilted her head curiously.

  With a swift swipe of his hand, the drawing was tucked safely into the drawer of his desk.

  Her dark gaze flickered up to meet his. “Mr. Hale,” she repeated.

  “That’s me, dove,” he replied with a flippant grin. He didn’t have to be so impertinent, but the desire to shake up the woman’s resolute demeanor was too great a temptation to resist.

  Unfortunately, she proved herself a worthy adversary and her gaze remained steady and intent. “Once again I owe you my gratitude. I apologize for not thanking you properly upstairs. In my defense, I was a bit...” She gave a small gesture with her free hand.

  “Overwhelmed,” he offered with a tilt to his mouth.

  Her eyes sparked. “Agitated.”

  Mason chuckled.

  She ignored it.

  “You must be wondering what is instigating such perilous situations that have twice now required your intervention.”

  “Not particularly.”

  It appeared she hadn’t been expecting his response as she hesitated before replying. “Well, the truth is we suspect today’s ordeal wasn’t perpetrated by thieves but was likely yet another abduction attempt. I don’t know if Frederick told you this, but the kidnapping by the criminal gang wasn’t the first Frederick experienced. It would seem someone has targeted my brother, though the reason behind it is not yet entirely clear.”

  Mason could hazard a guess. A young and wealthy duke without parents or guardian and only an older sister for protection was a vulnerable creature and easy pickings for someone interested in a healthy ransom.

  What he couldn’t figure out was why Lady Katherine had decided to discuss the issue with him. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Until we know who’s behind the attacks and why, there’s a possibility more attempts will be made against Frederick. It’s become clear that he will need personal protection.”

  Mason waited for her to say more. When she didn’t, he leaned back in the chair—tensing when the wood creaked—and crossed an ankle over the opposite knee.

  She couldn’t possibly be considering what he suspected.

  “My brother is convinced you’re the perfect choice for such a task.”

  The look he gave her was filled with incredulity. “Are you asking me to be Freddie’s bodyguard?”

  A pause. “I believe I am.”

  “You’ve got the wrong man. I’m no hero, luv.”

  Her next words were spoken with firm conviction. “I don’t need a hero, Mr. Hale. I need a man as ruthless and mercenary as those who are after Frederick.” She paused to stare at him with dark eyes full of intensity. “I need you.”

  Those three little words hit him in the gut with more force than any punch he’d taken in the ring. For a second, his breath got pushed up into his throat while his stomach tightened.

  “I’d pay you,” she said. “Generously.”

  “Hmm.” Mason rose to his feet and walked slowly around the desk until he was standing in front of her. Leaning his hips bac
k against the desk, he crossed his arms over his chest. It was a risky move to put even half of his weight on the frail furniture, but he wanted to see how the woman would react to his closer proximity.

  To her credit, she did not step back and never once shifted her gaze from his.

  Brave little thing. Or stubborn. Probably both.

  He smiled. And something unreadable flickered across her fine features.

  “What makes you think I’d be qualified for such a position?”

  Lifting her chin, she replied, “Your part in rescuing my brother from the criminal gang demonstrates your capabilities in the face of dangerous adversity. And you’ve already proven to possess a certain loyalty to my brother.”

  “I’m loyal to no one.”

  She ignored him again. “You’re familiar with this city and its dangers, and you’re well-known to its inhabitants—if not personally then by reputation. If anyone were bold enough to challenge you directly, I suspect they’d be handled as efficiently as Mr. Boothe was.”

  He gave a rough snort. She’d clearly thought the matter through, but if he had to guess, he’d say Lady Katherine had not come easily to this decision. He didn’t blame her.

  Taking a moment, he swept a lingering glance over her slim form. She remained still beneath his brazen perusal, as though she knew his intention was to discomfit her and she intended to endure it. When his gaze lifted back to her face, he noted the firm press of her pretty lips and the tiny sparks of fire that flickered in her steady gaze.

  “Aside from a generous wage”—he lowered his voice suggestively—“what does the position afford me?”

  He noted the slight clenching of her jaw before she replied. “It would get you out of this monstrosity of a house.” A pause. “Obviously, you’d need to reside with us.”

  “In Mayfair?” He snorted a laugh. “That’d be a sight.”

  “You couldn’t properly protect Frederick from anywhere else.”

  The tone of her voice suggested she wasn’t completely comfortable with that aspect.

  Good.

  “And you?” he asked.

  Dark brows furrowed. “What about me?”

  “Will you also be under my protection?” Without conscious intention, his voice shifted into a more intimate tone. He was rewarded by the slight parting of her lips and a fleeting glance at his folded forearms.

  “I don’t need protection.”

  “You might,” he suggested thickly.

  Though her pupils expanded a bit at his words, she quickly recovered to arch one imperious brow. “From you, Mr. Hale?”

  When he responded with a smile, her attention fell to his mouth.

  His heart kicked hard against his ribs. Lust—heavy and strong—flooded his body. He’d been playing with her before, trying to unnerve her. But now, his focus became suddenly very serious.

  He replied in a heavy murmur. “Definitely from me.”

  “I’m not a timid sort, Mr. Hale. You don’t frighten me.”

  The haughtiness of her tone inspired another rush of heat. He unfolded his arms to curl his hands over the edge of the desk on either side of his hips. The feel of the smooth wood somehow helped him calm the thickening of his blood. Holding her gaze, he replied simply, “I should.”

  He finally saw a flicker of shock in her expression though her voice when she replied was hard and strong. “Is that a threat? Are you saying you’d force yourself on me?”

  “No, dove. Never. I’m not that type of villain.” He grinned. “But it might not take long before you wished I were.”

  Disbelief and indignation blazed in her eyes. “You dare to insinuate—”

  “I dare.” Straightening from where he’d been leaning against the desk, he lowered his chin and held her gaze with his as he took a slow, measured step toward her. “That and more.” He repeated his words from their first meeting.

  Mason took another step. Then another. He didn’t want to frighten her. He wanted to get closer. A lot closer. He wanted to breathe her scent and soak up the elegant fire that burned steadily inside her.

  And for the moment—whether due to pride or uncertainty or, he hoped to God, something else entirely—she was allowing it. With eyes wide and fine jaw clenched, she watched him approach.

  “Remember how it felt when I had you caught fast against me?” he asked. “Your hands locked in mine. Your breath swift against my throat. Remember the heat of our bodies? The hard thrum of anticipation?”

  They stood now with no more than a couple inches between them. Lady Katherine’s head was tilted back as she continued to meet his stare. The woman was bold. Fearless. Lovely.

  “I do. Vividly,” she admitted darkly.

  Mason wanted to touch her. His hands ached to do so. His fingers twitched with the desire to slide beneath the fall of her thick hair and curve around her nape to hold her in place for the ravenous fall of his mouth. He wanted to palm her arse and drag her up his thigh until her legs wrapped around his hips.

  He wanted to be inside her.

  “Remember how you trembled against me?” he asked roughly.

  She swallowed before replying. “I remember quite well. If I trembled, it was due to anger and frustration.” The words were firm, but her lips were soft and full.

  Mason reluctantly shifted his attention from her gorgeous mouth to look into her eyes. “Liar.”

  The word sounded like a caress. And he meant it that way. When she didn’t refute him, he smiled. Perhaps the lady wasn’t as resistant to the attraction between them as he’d expected. The thought lit a fire of anticipation inside him.

  But then she stiffened. Her stern eyes narrowed as she looked up at him. “Do not presume to know my mind.”

  With a tilt of his head, he offered a roguish grin. “You’ll admit to wanting me eventually. And when you do, I’ll have you naked and in my bed before you can take your next breath.”

  Instead of responding to his declaration with shocked affront or virtuous fury, she tilted her head and eyed him with an arched brow. “Do you think to dissuade me with such rakish talk?

  “Just being honest.”

  “You’re a shameless scoundrel.”

  He chuckled. “I am. Best you accept that. I’m not like your fine gentlemen. Never could be in a thousand years.” He spread his arms wide. “What you see is what you get, duchess.”

  Her flickering gaze swept over him from head to toe. Across the width of his chest and the reach of his arms, down the length of his torso and then his wide stance. There was no way she’d be able to mistake him for anything other than what he was—a street fighter from the rookery, a bruiser who’d lived his entire life by the fist.

  He brought his hands to his hips—waiting for her to take back her offer and rush from the room.

  Finishing her perusal with a slow inhale, her eyes found his again.

  He clenched his back teeth, knowing his gaze had to be running as hot as his blood by then. But her direct focus didn’t falter.

  Instead, she set her head at an imperious angle. “What I expect is a loyal, capable bodyguard who will ensure Frederick’s safety until the threat has been addressed.”

  She still wanted him? The woman was damned difficult to scare off. “You’ll pay dearly for the likes of me.”

  One of her brows arched to a perfectly subtle effect. “I’ll pay whatever it takes to ensure my brother’s safety, Mr. Hale.” Then her lips curved ever so slightly. “Triple. Remember.”

  Mason smiled in return, acknowledging her reference. But then she stated her offer for a weekly salary and he nearly choked on his tongue. The rate she was willing to pay for an indefinite period of time told him more than anything just how wealthy the Blackwells were. And how important her brother’s safety was to this woman.

  Taking a moment to conceal his surprise, he countered with a figure nearly double what she’d named. “And a budget for expenses.”

  There was only a slight pause before she nodded. “Agreed.”<
br />
  It was an obscene amount. Far more than he’d ever expected her to agree to. He still wasn’t clear why she’d decided to consider him for such a role, but he was seriously considering accepting the offer.

  “Claire goes where I go,” he said bluntly. “And her nurse.”

  “Of course,” she replied with ready acceptance.

  When he said nothing more, she turned and started toward the door. Apparently, his silence was all the agreement she needed. Pausing at the threshold, she looked back over her shoulder. “You have our address in Mayfair?”

  “I’ll find you.” Mason crossed his arms over his chest and tossed her a weighty scowl. “So that’s it, then?”

  She arched a brow. “Is there anything else?”

  Mason thought about his plans for the future. “I’ll be wanting a reference.”

  Confusion flickered across her face. “A reference?”

  “I’ll be providing a service, dove. I’d expect the typical recommendations if I do it well, and the word of a duke—or a duke’s sister—tends to carry some weight.”

  A pause. Then, “Agreed.”

  He gave a short grunt of satisfaction. “We’ll be round tonight.”

  Nothing in her expression changed, but he felt a shift in her demeanor. He just wasn’t sure what it indicated.

  “Excellent,” she replied after a beat. “We shall discuss more of the details after you arrive.”

  Then she left. And Mason remained. His blood still hot and pulsing, his mind rushing through the implications of what had just occurred. Had he really agreed to be the personal bodyguard to a duke?

  Sure, it was just Freddie, and Mason would give hell to anyone who tried to hurt the boy. So why did it feel so much bigger than that?

  Chapter Eleven

  The main drawing room in the Duke of Northmoor’s London residence had not been fully redecorated since Katherine’s grandfather’s time, and yet it retained a timeless sophistication. Their country manor in Lincolnshire hadn’t been nearly so elegant. Katherine wouldn’t admit it out loud, but when they’d first arrived in London, she’d been overwhelmed by their lush and stylish new home. There were still times when she’d look around and felt a bit like a visitor in someone else’s life.