How I Married a Marquess

by Anna Harrington

  “After tonight’s dinner, you’ll never have to be bothered by him again.”

  Her chest sank. Because she liked being bothered by Thomas. Very much. Even now, sore and stiff, her body still tingled with arousal at the thought of him. And that was the problem, she thought, as she watched her mother close the door quietly after herself. Not being bothered by him was the last thing she wanted.

  With a frown she tossed the coverlet aside and began to pace beside her bed, hoping the movement would keep back both the growing ball of unease in her belly and the tears. Thomas was simply the most wonderful man she’d ever met, and she knew she’d never cross paths with another like him. It was so easy now to imagine spending all her nights in his arms in that relaxed way they’d shared last night, teasing and laughing with each other once the physical need was satisfied. And oh, she could easily imagine satisfying that physical need with him again, and often.

  She wanted quiet moments, too, when she would be happy simply to have him sitting with her before a fire on a cold winter’s night or to feed him strawberries on a spring picnic. She’d love for him to show her everything about his life in London.

  She froze, and her heart skipped painfully. Love?

  No, she hadn’t meant that. Not love! There was absolutely no love between them.

  Of course, she was indebted to him. He’d saved her life, and in keeping her secret, he’d proven himself an ally.

  And of course, she found him attractive. With that thick black hair and those piercing blue eyes, he was dashing in a way that sucked the breath from her every time she watched him walk into a room. And each time he pulled her into his arms, she knew she belonged there in a way she’d never belonged anywhere before in her life. The feeling was inexplicable. Downright mad, in fact. So were the fantasies she’d let herself have of daring to hope she might someday marry…him.

  But love? In her wildest dreams, she’d never dared to let herself—

  Her knees gave out, and she sank onto the bed. Even as she heard the rush of blood in her ears from the pounding of her heart, she knew it was true. A groan escaped her lips. She had fallen in love with him, this man who was heir to a duchy, a spy, and a hero. The one man who was the most impossible choice for her in all of England, next to the Prince Regent himself. The same man who’d come into her life in the first place only because he’d planned on arresting her.

  But none of what she felt mattered. Because he wasn’t hers to have, and he never would be.

  With a deep breath of resolve, she pushed herself away from the bed. She might never have a chance at a future with him, but at least she could help him now by ending the mess in which she’d entangled him and perhaps, just perhaps, also find a way for him to be seen as the hero in all this. A hero who deserved to be welcomed back by the War Office.

  Twisting her hair into a knot and doing her best to pin it into place, she hurried to dress. She had retired as a highwayman, but she hadn’t completely given up breaking the law. Not just yet. Because this morning she planned on sneaking into Blackwood Hall and stealing the proof she needed to stop Royston, once and for all.

  * * *

  An hour later, Josie walked down the upstairs hallway of Blackwood Hall as normally as possible…if normally meant holding her breath, wringing her hands, and creeping on tiptoe.

  Word had spread among the guests about last night’s foiled robbery attempt and that the constable now held the highwayman in custody, and the mood of the party had turned grim. The countess had taken to her suite of rooms, too overwrought to face her guests. And Royston waited in the village for more information, according to Greaves, who’d greeted her when she arrived.

  With all the guests huddled inside the house, no one would suspect that she was up to anything if they saw her wandering from room to room. If anyone did ask why she was there, she would simply say she was going to the music room to look through the sheet music to find a song or two to play tonight after dinner. But she knew no one would give her subterfuge a second thought. No one ever had.

  Until Thomas.

  She groaned inwardly. Why him? Of all the men to fall for, the one who had to come sweeping in and capture her heart was the same man set on arresting her. The same one who made her feel so exquisitely beautiful and desired yet didn’t believe a word she said.

  Her heart lurched painfully. Such a fool! She’d been mad to ever let herself fantasize for a moment about the possibility of sharing a life with him, to keep alive even a mere sliver of hope that they might have more than a sennight together. Or to still believe in her silly childhood dream that someone might want to marry her after all. After all these years, she should have known better and let that foolish dream die. Even if he proved himself to be the one gentleman in all of England who didn’t care that she was an orphan, Thomas didn’t trust her. And to be honest, she’d not given him much reason to. In her desperate pursuit to help the orphans, she’d made him doubt everything about her.

  Gathering her determination, she hurried faster down the hall. She might not be able to overcome her past, but she would find the proof that would finally make him believe her, even if she had to search through all two hundred rooms of Blackwood Hall inch by inch.

  A door opened, and an arm shot out around her waist. Someone yanked her into the room and pushed her up against the wall. The door shut behind her, trapping her inside. She took a deep breath to scream—

  A hand pressed against her mouth. “Quiet!”

  Her eyes lifted, then widened. Thomas. If she’d known what was good for her, when she saw the cold fury on his face, she would have screamed anyway.

  “What in the hell are you doing here?” he growled through gritted teeth, then pulled his hand away from her mouth to pin both of her shoulders against the wall.

  “I came to help you.”

  “I don’t need your help.” The sting of his fresh rejection stabbed into her heart like a stake. She’d been naked in his arms less than twelve hours ago, but already he felt a world away. “I told you to stay in your room.”

  “I wasn’t going to stay there while you—”

  He cursed, so vehemently she jumped. “I’ll damn well tie you up with ropes next time.”

  Her chin jutted into the air. “I’d like to see you try!”

  “Don’t tempt me.” His face hardened at the challenge, and his hands tightened their hold on her arms, the frustration inside him palpable. “I told you to stay at home. Now I find you prowling through Royston’s house, right under the man’s nose.” The muscles in his shoulder flexed as his hand clenched, and she suspected that the need for silence was the only thing stopping him from slamming his fist into the wall. “Damnation!”

  “Stop cursing at me,” she scolded.

  “I’m not cursing at you.”

  “You’re supposed to be a spy.”

  “I am,” he snarled.

  “Then keep your calm.” She rolled her shoulders, but his grip remained firm. “And let go of me!”

  “And you’ll go back home immediately and stay there until I send for you?”

  “No.”

  “Christ, Jo!”

  “Stop cursing at—”

  “For God’s sake, why won’t you ever do what I ask you?” He leaned toward her until his warm breath fanned her cheek, his anger dark on his brow. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

  “I’m trying to help,” she defended.

  But at that moment, as they faced off like two bulldogs in a fight, she knew that neither of them completely trusted the other. He didn’t trust her enough to take her word over Royston’s, and she didn’t trust him not to arrest her to regain his old life. The life he’d claimed held no place for her. Already her heart ached at the thought of losing him. Any more rejection from him would break it completely.

  As she turned around and reached for the door handle, praying she could escape before he saw the pain on her face, he slammed his hand against the door and held it closed.r />
  Her heart plummeted. Oh God…why wouldn’t he leave her alone so she could be miserable in peace? Never had she thought that loving someone could be so agonizing.

  He stepped up behind her, and the heat of his body seeped into her back. Despite her anger and pain, a shiver of heat sped through her and sent her heart racing as his mouth lowered to her ear.

  “I want you at home so I can keep you safe,” he explained in a gentle tone that she knew he fought to control, because even now she could feel the anger and confusion burning inside him. He trailed his knuckles across her cheek and elicited a shuddering tremble from her. “I don’t want you to be hurt, Jo. Please believe that.”

  But how could she? Even if he let her go without arresting her, having to leave him tomorrow when the party ended would be torture. No matter what happened now, she would be hurt.

  With tears filling her eyes, she choked out, “Would you still arrest me if you had to?”

  “Yes,” he answered, the raw honesty shooting a spear of anguish into her.

  She drew a shaking breath. “Then I hope you understand why I couldn’t stay home.”

  “No, I can’t.” His deep voice was husky now, each word a heated breath against her ear that had her longing to simply lean back and put herself once more into his arms. And if she did that…oh heavens, she truly would be lost forever! “I don’t understand why you keep risking your life, first with the robberies and now by walking right beneath Royston’s nose.”

  He slowly turned her to face him, and she somehow resisted the urge to wrap her arms around his neck even as her skin tingled from the nearness of him. “Because the orphans have no one to protect them but me.”

  “And your family, Josephine? Have you thought about what it will do to them if you’re caught?”

  Her chest clenched painfully. She had thought about them, from the very moment when she’d decided to become a highwayman. But she wasn’t truly a Carlisle, and if she were caught, her family could distance themselves from her by reminding everyone that she was adopted and keep themselves away from the greatest part of the scandal that would fall onto their heads. They could place the blame solely on her, and society would understand, having expected disaster all along. After all, that was what came of adopting an orphan. Mama and Papa just hadn’t realized it yet.

  Her hot tears blurred his handsome face. “They’re not my real family.”

  “Oh yes, they are.” He caressed his thumb gently across her bottom lip, and her lips parted of their own volition with a trembling sigh. “The way they love you—you’d hurt them irreparably, Jo, and they’d blame themselves. Could you really bear it, knowing the hell your arrest would put them through?”

  “If my only other choice is turning my back on the orphans, then yes,” she answered, believing her words. “I could bear it.” Somehow.

  Disbelief darkened his eyes, turning their depths a sultry midnight blue. “No, you couldn’t.”

  “You’re wrong about me,” she whispered, wishing he wouldn’t look at her like that, as if he’d figured out everything about her. “You think you know me, Thomas, but you don’t.”

  Stepping forward, he closed the distance between them. She fought back a soft cry of frustration and need as she closed her eyes against the sensation of his hard body pressed so tantalizingly against hers. The wonderful memories of last night pulsed through her, and her thighs clenched hard against the wanton throbbing between her legs. She ached to be with him again, to give herself over to the delicious pleasure only he could give her when he made her feel so beautiful, so desired and happy…only for the pain to be twice as agonizing when he left.

  “After last night,” he murmured, his mouth close to hers, “I know you very well, Josephine.” His deep voice rumbled through her and set her heart pounding. “And I don’t mean just your delectable body.”

  He lowered his head to kiss her. As his lips brushed over hers, she fought the temptation to beg him to pull her to the floor right there and make love to her again. There would be comfort in his arms, but the consolation would be fleeting. As fleeting as his presence in her life. By this time tomorrow, he would be gone forever.

  She blinked hard to clear the stinging from her eyes and pulled away, breaking the kiss. Forcing her voice not to tremble, she challenged, “Yet you don’t trust me.”

  He blew out a harsh breath of frustration, and she felt the tension clawing at him. “You know it isn’t that simple.”

  “Because you want to be a spy…” More than you want me. She couldn’t bring herself to finish the soft accusation that sliced a raw wound into her heart.

  “Yes,” he answered somberly.

  Unable to bear looking at him, she turned her gaze away in dread of whatever emotions might be passing over his face. Guilt, pity, obligation…but certainly not love. The one emotion she wanted to see most of all.

  “And that’s why I’m here,” she forced out, somehow making her words sound more resolved than she felt. “To make you a spy again.”

  Ignoring the pain of utter desolation that swept through her, she shoved him back with all her might, threw open the door, and hurried into the hallway.

  She couldn’t bear to be alone in the room with him for another moment longer, fighting the urge to wrap her arms around his shoulders and pull him close, because no good would come of that. He was thoroughly maddening and aggravating beyond belief, and made more so each time he was kind and tender to her. Like now. Parting from him would be so much easier if he truly were nothing more than a heartless rake, because then she would care nothing for him. And she wouldn’t want anything more.

  “Make me a spy again, huh?” he asked as he fell into step beside her. The anger inside him couldn’t keep the pain and vulnerability from creeping into his voice. She knew him well now, too. “How do you plan on doing that, exactly?”

  “I’m going to search Royston’s study for proof that—”

  “I’m going to break into his study.” His fingers closed in warning over her elbow. “You’re going back to Chestnut Hill.”

  She stopped so suddenly he almost crashed into her, and his expression hardened, as if he were readying himself for another fight with her, another biting comment or harsh accusation. Instead she murmured softly, “It’s my fault, Thomas, all of it. The robberies, the fight last night, Mr. Cooper’s arrest…I have to be part of this.” His eyes flickered at the intensity in her voice as she insisted, “I have to. Do not send me away, not now.”

  He stared at her silently as he clearly considered the ramifications of keeping her with him. Then, with a decisive nod, he took her elbow again and led her down the hallway at a sauntering pace. Anyone who happened upon them would think they were simply making their way to join the other guests in the downstairs drawing room.

  “All right,” he acquiesced with a hard sigh. “We’ll do this together. But you’ll do as I say without question. Understand?”

  She nodded her compliance only because she didn’t have a choice. “Do you think we’ll find any evidence?”

  “I don’t know, but we have to hurry. Royston was still in the village with the constable when I left them. We’ll have about an hour, maybe less.”

  They stopped outside Royston’s study. Thomas casually tried the handle, but it didn’t budge.

  “Of course he wouldn’t make this easy,” he muttered. Then he slid a sideways glance at her and scrutinized her from head to toe.

  “What is it?” A self-conscious blush rose in her cheeks.

  “Give me one of your hairpins and your necklace.”

  “Why?”

  “Don’t question me, Jo.” He held out his hand. “Just trust me.”

  She hesitated, then unfastened her necklace and removed one of her hairpins. When she handed both over, her fingers brushed against his. Only a fleeting contact, but it stirred the familiar warmth of arousal low in her belly.

  He dropped the necklace onto the floor, then took her shoulders and pos
itioned her at an angle to the door. “Stand here and keep watch. If anyone comes into the hall, even one of the servants, warn me.”

  Nodding, she watched as he crouched in front of the door and slid the long pin into the lock. His fingers worked expertly, and with a twist of the pin and a sly smile at her, he turned the handle and opened the door. As he rose to his feet, he snatched up the necklace and pulled her inside, closing and locking the door behind them.

  He fastened the necklace around her neck and placed a quick kiss on her nape before stepping away. A warm tingle slithered down her spine.

  “That was smoothly done,” she murmured, nodding toward the door as she returned the hairpin to its place. “One would think you often broke into locked rooms that way.”

  He sent her an inscrutable glance as he hurried to the desk. “That skill comes in handy sometimes.”

  “I can imagine.” Yet she tried very hard not to imagine as she watched him search through the desk drawers, her mind conjuring unbidden images of Thomas picking the locks of dozens of doors belonging to beautiful women.

  He carefully turned over the contents of each drawer and left no visible evidence they’d been searched. “Have I picked the lock on your bedroom door?”

  Her throat tightened. “No.”

  He looked up and steadied a piercing gaze on her. “Then don’t assume I’ve done it to any other woman.”

  She glanced away, duly scolded. Thomas Matteson was not only a spy but apparently also a mind reader.

  He searched the last drawer but came up empty.

  “What can I do?” she asked as he methodically began to search through the cabinets and side tables.

  “If Royston’s locking the door, there’s information in here he doesn’t want found.” He nodded toward the shelves. “Look through the books, one by one, and check for anything which might be hidden behind them. But make certain to put them back exactly as you found them. And keep a close eye out for any threads, hairs, or the like that might be sitting on the shelf or the books. If you find one of those, don’t touch it and call for me.”