House of Trent 01.5 - His for Christmas
Page 13
“Morton was definitely involved in my mother’s disappearance. She was with him the night she left home. He remained with her for at least a month after that.”
She nodded. “Roger Morton is evil,” she said in a low voice. He’d killed Henry and stolen her father’s fortune; she didn’t doubt he had done something horrible to the Dowager Duchess of Trent.
Luke slouched against the window frame. Crossing his arms over his chest, he gazed at her across the tiny room. She stared steadily at him, ignoring the little kick in her chest the sight of his relaxed masculine form gave her. Tall black leather boots clasped his calves like a second skin. He wore dark breeches that hugged strong thighs, a gray-and-black striped waistcoat with the top cloth button open to reveal a simple white cravat and a high-collared black cutaway coat with gray silk lining that emphasized his broad shoulders.
“If Roger Morton is evil, then it wouldn’t be very chivalrous of me to allow a lady to join me in my search for him, now, would it?”
She shrugged.
“You’ll be happy to hear I’ve never been accused of chivalry.”
“Well, thank God for that.”
He didn’t smile. “Still, why should I allow you to join me?”
“Because, as I said earlier, I can help you find him.”
“How?”
“I am in possession of certain clues that I am certain will lead us straight to him.”
“What kinds of clues?”
“Documents.”
“Documents of what nature?”
“Receipts and letters.”
His lips twisted. “And how did you come to be in possession of those?”
“You ask too many questions. Until we finalize our agreement, I shan’t tell you another thing.”
“The agreement in which you reveal the location of Morton, then I take you with me to find him. And when we succeed in locating him, you intend to kill him.”
“Yes,” she said flatly. “But not before you discover everything you can about what happened to the duchess.” And not before she discovered what he’d done with her father’s money.
“How generous of you, to give me a few moments to question the villain before he suffers a violent death.”
“I think so,” she said.
Luke laughed again. She liked the sound of his laugh—it was low and soft. It made her want to smile and laugh with him. But she didn’t. No, the stakes were too high.
She’d known Luke was dangerous from the moment he’d opened those piercing blue eyes and looked at her over his ale glass. But while he spoke to something intensely carnal within her, Emma had learned her lesson. She wouldn’t be dragged into iniquity by the wicked seduction of another man who never saw her beyond her face and the curves of her body. Never again, no matter how she reacted to him on a visceral level.
“So, then,” she asked, “are we agreed?”
He stared at her for a long moment, assessing her with those fire-and-ice eyes. She felt exposed. Like he systematically removed every stitch of her clothing, burning each seam away so it fell around her in tatters, leaving her stripped bare.
Then his lips curled into that sensual, knowing smile, and a deep flutter spread from her core and through her limbs in response.
His lips had felt so wickedly good against hers. She’d wanted—badly—to kiss him back. She ought to have pushed him away. But the angel and devil inside her were engaged in such a furious battle that she hadn’t been able to move at all.
“Yes,” he said. “We’re agreed.”
Her muscles suddenly went limp, and she had to battle to keep from sagging to the floor. Only now did she realize how worried she’d been that he’d deny her.
Thank you. Thank you. We’ll find him. We’ll find Papa’s money…and maybe, just maybe, she could save her family.
Slowly, the strength returned to her limbs. She gazed steadily at Luke. “There’s just one thing, my lord.”
He cocked a brow. “What’s that, Emma?”
She swallowed against her suddenly dry mouth. She’d never spoken so freely to a gentleman before, not even to Henry. But certain things needed to be said.
“If you want my help, I cannot…” She took a deep breath and continued. “I cannot engage in relations—of any kind—with you.”
His brow remained firmly nocked upward. “Why not?”
“I’m not the kind of woman who…bestows her favors easily.”
He leveled his gaze at her. “You came up here with me. That is evidence contrary to your words. How do you think following me up to my room should be interpreted? By me, and by the people in that tavern downstairs?”
The obvious interpretation of her actions was that she was a loose woman. That she fully intended to offer him any and every favor he chose to ask of her.
It was stupid to have come up here…yet perhaps not so stupid. She didn’t care what anyone thought about her anymore. She had nothing to prove to anyone. He hadn’t hurt her—something inside her had told her he wasn’t a danger, at least not in the most overt sense of the word. She’d been determined to get him to agree to her plan, no matter what it took. And speaking privately with him had seemed like it would offer her an advantage that speaking with him in the noisy tavern wouldn’t.
And a part of her, a tiny portion of her mind, had wondered what it would be like to throw away every sense of propriety and responsibility, go upstairs with a man she didn’t know, and lose herself to the sensual pleasures that his heated gaze had promised her from across that undersized table.
She spoke carefully. “I don’t care what everyone thought, my lord. But I want you to know that wasn’t my intention. I wished to offer you a business proposition. Truly, I cannot help the fact that I am a woman.”
His gaze raked her body up and down, leaving trembling gooseflesh in its wake. She was glad her half-mourning dress covered so much of her skin and that he couldn’t see how his gaze affected her.
“No,” he murmured. “You certainly can’t help the fact that you’re a beautiful woman.”
She swallowed hard. “This is a business proposition. Nothing more. You and I are searching for the same man, and we’re assisting each other in that endeavor.”
“I don’t know,” he mused. “What if I require the need for female companionship during the term of this business partnership?”
“Then I shall turn a blind eye,” she said automatically. Still, something in her chest clenched at the thought of him seeking out a woman.
His eyes narrowed into slits. “Oh? What if I decide that female ought to be you?”
“I imagine you’re capable of controlling yourself.”
“Perhaps,” he said. “But what if you’re not?”
She laughed, but something about it sounded high and false. “I’m entirely capable of controlling myself, too. Not that there shall be anything to control.”
His lips twisted, and she didn’t blame his disbelief. She made a poor liar.
“You want me, Emma.” He studied his fingernails as if something fascinating lurked in the nail beds. “Mark my words, it’s only a matter of time before you beg me to take you.”
“Oh, I think not, my lord.”
He looked back up at her, giving her a wicked smile as he dropped his hands to his sides. “We’ll see.”
She took a breath, not answering. But her cheeks felt like they were ablaze. Please, she thought, don’t let him see that I am blushing.
But his gaze brushed over her face, and his smile deepened.
“Yes,” he continued, “I’ll agree to your business proposition. You help me find Roger Morton and you may join me in my search. I will refrain from engaging in…what did you call it? Oh, yes…relations with you.”
She gave a very businesslike nod, as if they truly were men of trade agreeing on the terms of a deal.
He raised a hand as if to stop her. “But I have a condition of my own.”
Her heart sank. “What’s that?”
“I can offer you the heights of pleasure, Mrs. Emma Curtis. If, at some point during the term of our agreement, you were to beg…I promise, I’ll not deny you.”
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Welcome
A Letter from Jennifer Haymore
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
&n
bsp; Chapter Eight
About the Author
A Preview of The Duchess Hunt
A Preview of The Rogue’s Proposal
Also by Jennifer Haymore
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Newsletters
Copyright
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2013 by Jennifer Haymore
Excerpt from The Duchess Hunt copyright © 2013 by Jennifer Haymore
Excerpt from The Rogue’s Proposal copyright © 2013 by Jennifer Haymore
Cover design by Claire Brown. Cover art by Aleta Rafton.
Cover copyright © 2013 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.
All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at permissions@hbgusa.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.