Temptations of Anna Jacobs

by Robyn DeHart

  Now she waited for Drew to arrive. She wanted to ask him precisely why he’d wanted her to accompany him tonight. But admittedly she was leery of his answer. Were it anything other than he valued her opinion and wanted an assistant in the investigation, she knew she would be disappointed.

  Unless. . . . he’d invited her because he wanted her company in a romantic fashion and intended to steal a kiss from her. She certainly looked the part of the women he normally dallied with. She’d asked around and Drew Foster had a reputation with the servant girls in some of the more upper-crust homes in London. But certainly that had not been why he’d asked her to dress this way; in fact he hadn’t even asked her to dress this way at all, had merely suggested she not wear something as nice as her standard dresses. Dear heavens, she could drive herself mad with her own circular thoughts.

  Drew stepped into the room and she sucked in a breath. He was so handsome, with his broad shoulders, and his long legs encased in black trousers. A day’s growth shadowed his cheeks and chin and gave him a devil-may-care look that she found utterly alluring. His eyes were set in a scowl, much as they’d been that night she’d first approached him. Angry, scowling and growling at anyone who came near.

  “Good evening,” she said.

  He nodded. “You are ready?”

  “Yes.”

  “The cloak will work nicely.”

  She opened the cloak to reveal the dress underneath. “I also borrowed a dress that I think shall work in aiding my disguise. I don’t look like a genteel lady in this.”

  He swallowed visibly. “No, you most certainly do not. You need not remove the cloak. We simply do not want people to recognize you; we are not advertising your wares.”

  She quickly wrapped herself back up and they made their way into the carriage. Anna’d never been into the East End, and she couldn’t deny the fear gnawing at her insides. But Drew was with her and she knew, without even having to ask, that he would protect her.

  The carriage stopped and Drew helped her out. The faded green sign above the pub read The Dog and Duck.

  “This is it,” he said. He pulled her to him, wrapped a possessive arm around her. “For your protection, tonight you’re mine.”

  Shivers ran through her.

  Tonight you’re mine.

  Was it possible the air quality in the East End was so poor that she was having difficulties catching her breath? Good heavens, who knew that mere words could have such an effect on a person. She was learning rather quickly that when it came to Drew Foster, she should expect the unexpected.

  ***

  They stepped inside the Dog and Duck, and Anna was immediately struck by how dark the inside of the pub appeared. There were a few scattered lights, but the dark wood paneling combined with the covered windows created a cavelike ambiance. Why anyone would want to spend a great deal of time in a room such as this baffled Anna. There was nothing about it that appealed to her.

  The smell of stale drink and bodies that didn’t bathe regularly enough assaulted her. And they still stood right in the doorway, barely breaching the depths of the room.

  “Well, I’ll be damned. Look what the cat dragged in,” a barmaid said as they stepped into the pub.

  Anna kept her cloak hood up, shielding her face, but she could certainly see around her. The barmaid sauntered over to Drew, her generous hips swaying seductively as she moved. She had a head full of riotous curls, bright red in color. The woman was apparently unbothered by the fact that Anna was on his arm. In fact, she glanced at Anna, then looked away dismissively before running a hand up to Drew’s shoulder. “Where you been hiding yourself?”

  A pang of jealousy shot through Anna. Ridiculous, true, but there it was. Though she doubted this woman was anything more than a barkeep to Drew, Anna couldn’t help but wonder if they’d been lovers.

  “Here and there,” he said. His tone was tight, rigid even, and Anna could have sworn he pulled her tighter to him.

  “Well, we have your usual table over here.” She walked away from them then, though Anna realized when Drew moved forward that they were expected to follow. She led them to a table near the center of the room. She popped one hand on the table, causing the current occupants to jump. “Scat. We have more important guests here now. Sit somewhere else.”

  “Mavis, that isn’t necessary,” Drew said. “We can sit anywhere.”

  “Nonsense. This is your table,” Mavis said. She glared at the men at the table once more and they scurried away, claiming seats across the room.

  Drew held out the chair for Anna and she sat, then he followed suit, sitting next to her. He put a possessive hand on her knee and a physical awareness surged through her.

  Tonight you’re mine.

  Mavis left them, but returned shortly with two glasses. She set them both down in front of Drew, then she nodded toward Anna. “What’ll she have?”

  “Do you have champagne?” Anna asked.

  Mavis rolled her eyes but turned and made her way back behind the bar.

  Another barmaid, this one named Jana, if the inebriated guests yelling her name were to be trusted, eyed Drew suspiciously from across the room. Anna cut a sideways glance at Drew, enough to observe that he was stiff, alert. In the short amount of time she’d known Drew she had never seen him ill at ease. Even at the Trenton ball the other night, he’d maintained his devil-may-care attitude. But here, tonight, in this tiny, dark room, he was most assuredly on edge. It was impossible to reconcile the man she knew now with the man who had once been a regular here, so much so that the barmaids knew him by name.

  “So what precisely are we looking for?” Anna asked, trying to alleviate his discomfort.

  “I’m merely hoping that something will jar a memory.” He looked around the room, but his eyes kept coming back to the glasses in front of him. He was tempted. Anna had known that being here would be difficult for him; it had been one of the reasons she had agreed to this venture. Without another thought, Anna grabbed one of the glasses and downed it. She could at least remove some of the temptation from him. Her eyes watered fiercely, but she managed to keep herself from dissolving into a fit of coughs.

  His brows rose, but he said nothing.

  Mavis returned and pulled up a chair. “When did you get out of prison?”

  “It’s been a few weeks now,” Drew said. “I didn’t know you cared, Mavis, to wonder about my whereabouts.”

  She shrugged. “You’re my best tipper.”

  “Where’s Claudette?” he asked.

  “She hasn’t been into work since—well, since Polly was killed. She said she simply couldn’t manage the city any longer and she left, took herself back to the country,” Mavis said.

  He nodded toward the other barmaid. “And I see that Jana still believes me guilty.”

  Mavis turned and looked at the girl and then back to Drew. “Well, she never has been too bright. Poor girl is scared of her own shadow. I never doubted you. No matter what other people said, I knew you could never cut Polly up like that. You’re a good bloke.”

  “Thank you, Mavis.” Drew seemed utterly sincere. Anna supposed that every single person that retained faith in him, regardless of their station in life, was precious.

  “You know ever since that night, Crazy Old Rodgers comes in and rants and raves about the gentleman killer. But you know how mad he is,” Mavis said.

  Drew looked around the pub, then back to Mavis. “Where is he tonight?”

  Mavis searched as well, then shrugged again. “Haven’t seen him tonight. He’ll turn up at some point. He always does.”

  “But he speaks of a gentleman killer?” Anna asked, speaking for the first time since Mavis had joined them.

  Mavis faced her, squinted her eyes. “Who you hiding under there, gel?” She didn’t bother waiting for an answer. “Rodgers, when he speaks of that night, says that
they got the wrong man, that it was the gentleman killer who took Polly.”

  “It doesn’t sound as if he means Drew, then,” Anna said.

  “Well, who else would he mean?” Mavis shook her head. “Ain’t no other gentleman here.” Mavis spread her arms out wide to encompass the room.

  Still the wording seemed peculiar. Certainly by “wrong man,” Rodgers meant that Drew wasn’t the killer. Perhaps she and Drew should find this Crazy Old Rodgers and see what specifically he was talking about. Perhaps he had seen the killing that night or seen something here at the pub. If he had been there that night, then he might be able to help Drew fill in some of the missing pieces from his mind.

  At some point after that, Anna realized that the brandy she’d gulped had gone straight to her head. Perhaps it was the wave of dizziness that flittered through her. Or it could have been the fact that she’d looked down and realized she had taken hold of Drew’s hand as it rested on her leg. When had she done that?

  “Mavis!” a man’s voice bellowed from behind the bar. “This ain’t the time for socializing. Get off your arse and get to work.”

  “I’m coming, I’m coming,” she grumbled as she came to her feet. “Glad you’re back.” She gave Drew’s shoulder a squeeze, then she was off.

  Once she’d left, Anna peeked at Drew from beneath her hood. “Who is this Crazy Old Rodgers?”

  “Crazy Old Rodgers is the moniker of an older man, Samuel Rodgers. He’s a frequent patron of the Dog and the Duck.”

  “We should go find him,” Anna said. “Mad or not, he might have some information that could prove useful to you. At the very least he could perhaps fill in some holes in your memory.”

  Drew grinned. “Yes, we’ll do that. Perhaps tomorrow.”

  ***

  He had to get the hell out of this place. The smell alone was making his thoughts less coherent. And all he could think about was drinking that damned glass of brandy. Had Anna not been gripping his hand so tightly, he would have already grabbed it.

  “Bloody hell, look at you,” a man said.

  Drew knew who it was before he’d even looked up. Richardson popped Drew on the back. “Bout time you came back. Thompson said he saw you earlier at the tobacco shop, said you were acting odd.” Richardson grinned. “But I see you’ve returned and brought a bit of skirt with you this time.”

  The man didn’t wait for an invite; instead he grabbed a chair and straddled it backward, sitting directly in front of Anna.

  Drew fought off the urge to tell his friend to bugger off. They’d been friends, after all, though neither Thompson nor Richardson had done anything when Drew had been arrested.

  “What have you been doing with yourself?” Thompson asked.

  “The usual,” Drew said tightly.

  “Odd, that, considering we haven’t seen you around any of favorite places.” Thompson put a hand on Anna’s knee and Drew stiffened, but Anna squeezed his hand and gave him a nearly imperceptible shake of her head. “Where’d you find this little morsel?”

  “She’s mine,” Drew said between his teeth.

  Thompson’s brows rose. “I don’t see your name on her anywhere. What say you, love, do you belong to this bloke?” Thompson slid his hand further up Anna’s leg.

  Drew didn’t think at all before grabbing Thompson by the throat and shoving him backward. “I said she’s mine.” He grabbed Anna’s hand again. “Let’s go,” he told her. They spoke not another word the entire way to the carriage.

  ***

  A darkness had fallen into Drew’s eyes, and Anna was uncertain how to reach him. “Drew?”

  “I shouldn’t have taken you there. It was foolish. Selfish of me.” He looked at her then, his face raw with emotion. “I’m sorry, Anna.”

  “There’s no need to apologize. I’m quite fine. I wasn’t even afraid, not for a single moment.” It was the honest truth. In a situation where she should have been fearful, she’d found herself completely at ease. Because of the man who had accompanied her.

  He shook his head. “Had he hurt you, I would have killed him.”

  His words should have bothered her, but all she could hear was an echo of his words from the pub. She’s mine. In that moment Anna didn’t want anything to be more true than that. Yes, the violence promised should be alarming, but the fact was she’d never had anyone care about her to such a degree that they would protect her at all costs.

  “Drew—”

  He held a hand up to stop her. “I don’t want to discuss it further. Just know that I’m truly sorry for putting you in such a position.”

  “But you were there, right next to me, willing to protect me. I was never in danger for even a moment,” she said.

  He shook his head. “You don’t understand.”

  “You’re right, I don’t.”

  “Every moment you spend with me puts you in danger.”

  She frowned. “That’s ridiculous. I’m not in danger right now.”

  “I’m afraid you are. You are always at risk when you’re alone with me because of all of the things I want to do to you.”

  A delicious shiver slid over her body. Do your worst, she wanted to tell him. “Show me,” was all she could manage.

  He pulled her to him, so that she was half lying, half leaning across him. He moved his mouth down on hers, simultaneously seducing and worshipping. He needed her near, needed to touch her, kiss her, as a drowning man needed air. He slid his tongue through her teeth, sweeping it across her own. His hand held her head in place, and his other caressed her shoulder. She looked ridiculous in this dress, a servant girl’s dress that was ill-fitting and seemed to accent Anna’s curves. Ridiculous. Ridiculously sensual and appealing.

  He continued kissing her, loving the feel of her soft body pressed against his, the way her mouth yielded to him. She kissed him back, too, giving as much as he gave, and the sensations were heady, addictive. If he could kiss her like this every day, he’d never be tempted to take another drink as long as he lived. She was far more intoxicating than the sweetest of brandy.

  Her hands slid up around his neck, pulling him tighter to her. He picked her up by her bottom and set her on his lap. Her skirts bunched up at her knees and he longed to slide his hands up both legs to the center of her. To explore and see if she was wet for him, as wet as he was hard. His mouth left hers and he trailed kisses down her jaw to the column of her throat and then down her neck, across her collarbone to her shoulder, where he nipped lightly.

  She released soft, sweet sounds of pleasure, then sighed contentedly as he continued his perusal of her body. He pulled her closer to him, and he rubbed himself against her core. She sucked in a breath, but said nothing in protest. He kissed the tops of her breasts, where her labored breathing had them rising and falling above the bodice to the point he couldn’t stand it any longer. With a quick maneuver he pushed the bodice down, freeing her breasts.

  He dipped his head and took one nipple in his mouth. The hard, erect little nub beaded against his tongue, and Anna moaned loud and long. Her hands gripped at his shoulders and she arched toward him, pressing her breast farther into his mouth. He wanted nothing more than to lose himself in her. But he knew that couldn’t happen. She was a lady, a virgin, and therefore off-limits for him. Still he wanted her, and she obviously wanted him, so he’d give her a little more, then he’d force himself to walk away.

  He moved himself so that again he was pressed against the apex of her thighs, and he shifted the fabric of her skirts out of the way. Then, as he moved against her, her eyes flew open briefly, filled with wonder and then shuttered closed again. He kissed at her throat, cupped her breast, then kissed her again, all the while moving against her. He could imagine her wetness against him, though he knew it was nothing but his imagination. There were far too many layers between them. Still the hard ridge of him rubbed her in just the ri
ght spot, and she hiked her legs up, instinctively wrapping them around his waist.

  To walk away from her would be the hardest thing he’d ever done.

  Then her climax hit and she tossed her head back and gasped again and again as the pleasure rocketed through her.

  When the pleasure subsided, she opened her eyes. Their heavy breaths mingled, and he tried his best to reign in his desire. He could take her right here in this carriage; he knew she’d let him. But then where would that leave her? He was a bastard. A bastard who had been sent to prison for murder. Certainly Annabelle Jacobs deserved a hell of a lot better than the likes of him.

  “Drew,” she whispered.

  “Yes.”

  “I found that immensely enjoyable.”

  Her honesty shook him. “Yes, well, there’s a lot more where that came from, but I should not have taken such liberties with you.”

  “Shouldn’t that be my choice?”

  “Some things are best left alone, Anna.” He’d just used her. Allowed the darkness inside of him to rear its ugly head, and instead of getting lost in a bottle, he’d got lost in the sensations of Anna. “I am not a man you want in your life. Your reputation would be ruined simply by being acquainted with me, let alone this.” He removed her from his lap, placed her on the seat across from him, let her straighten her skirts. “I should take you home.”

  She nodded without argument.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Anna rolled over in bed for the hundredth time. What did her reputation matter if she wanted to be with Drew? She couldn’t deny that, not the physical desire, nor the desire for the simple pleasure of his company. The things he said to her, the way he touched her—certainly that meant he wanted those same things. That he craved her presence as she did his.

  But ultimately he’d told her that she shouldn’t want him around. It made no sense. He was the son of a duke, and he, for the moment, was gainfully employed with Scotland Yard. Yes, he’d been arrested, but she knew he’d not killed those women, and it mattered not to her what the rest of London believed. She’d already heard, firsthand, what his awful mother thought of him, but that only made Anna think poorly of the dowager duchess, not of Drew.