He found a free table and tucked into his meal. No doubt Taylor was in his office right now, sitting in his chair as he’d pictured her earlier. He cursed softly. Why had he let the girl convince him to let her stay? Why had he given her a temporary position? He hadn’t pushed to learn more of her cousin Trevor’s actions. He hadn’t used his well-honed interrogation skills to learn the whole of it and he knew the reason. It was because of Robert. Because of his best friend.
He thought again of that moment he’d held Taylor in his arms, when both lust and a strange sense of duty had gripped him.
No. Robert wasn’t the only reason.
* * *
The evening proved a trial on Taylor’s patience and sensibilities. Blake hadn’t needed to take much time to show her how to balance his ledgers. And she hadn’t spent much time in his office that afternoon. She’d quickly seen that his work was profitable, as was the public house. He hadn’t shared the contents of his case files, and she wouldn’t press him for that disclosure in the future. There was only one case that interested her. No, her new job didn’t cause her distress tonight. It was her behavior that morning. She’d hugged Blake!
The man was her brother’s best friend and partner. He was her benefactor, her employer for the time being. She shouldn’t have shown her gratitude in such a familiar manner. But that brief moment in his strong arms, with his masculine scent filling her nose . . . She’d been sorely tempted to stay right there and lean on someone again.
She was never one to sit idle, and so she’d asked the staff about Robert. Despite a few kind words from Annie, and the gruffly pleasant manner of the cook Mrs. Mott, they’d had nothing to say about the night he’d gone to London and never returned.
She’d eaten early and now her stomach voiced its desire for a bit of something before bed. The dining room would be nearly empty at this late hour. Surely Blake wouldn’t mind if she asked the cook for something to nibble on. She left her chamber and went down to the dining room. As she looked around the room for any sign of Blake, she bumped into Polly.
“What’s troublin’ you, dove?” Polly snapped. “Finished yer work in the office?” Her slack mouth sneered the last word.
“Nothing’s troubling me, I assure you.” Taylor looked the girl squarely in her dull brown eyes. “And as you are not my employer, I suggest you leave me to my tasks and see to your own.”
Taylor heard Annie’s throaty laugh. She turned and saw the red-haired girl smiling broadly at her. Giving Annie a nod of thanks, she continued on toward the kitchen.
She spied Blake then, at a table set in the corner. His hair was tousled, his face dark. A flicker of wanting caused her to shiver. His blue eyes were clouded as he seemed to gaze right through her. Suddenly they focused, running slowly over her body in a motion that set her heart pounding. A smile curved his beautiful mouth, carnal and sensual and one she’d never seen on his face before. In the next moment that smile was gone, replaced by a scowl.
Polly sauntered past him, her generous hips swaying. Blake watched the maid as he ran one long finger over the rim of his mug of ale. “Polly,” he called, his voice slurred.
The girl shot a glance at Taylor and stopped before Blake. “Ya’ want somethin’ from me, Thompson?” Polly asked in a loud voice.
He grabbed the maid’s wrist and pulled her down onto his lap. Taylor couldn’t watch any longer, not Blake’s hands on Polly’s waist nor his eyes staring into the girl’s with sharp intent. He’d promised Taylor nothing but a place to stay and a means to earn her keep until she found Robert. What he did with his personal life was none of her concern.
“How long before I can leave this place?” she whispered. “Where are you, Robert?” She hurried into the kitchen. Thankfully, she held on to her composure until the door closed behind her.
“What’s wrong with you, girl?” the cook asked.
Taylor forced a smile. “Nothing at all, Mrs. Mott.”
The older woman eyed her with skepticism, but said nothing. Her appetite gone, Taylor busied herself, stacking plates and wiping counters. She couldn’t go back to the dining room.
Not while Blake was still there.
* * *
Blake eyed the kitchen door after Taylor fled, guilt slashing through him as he recalled the shock in her eyes. They’d clouded like the fog rolling into Middlesex tonight. That was certainly in sharp contrast with the esteem they’d held that morning in his office. Good. It would serve her well to see him for the man he truly was.
Polly brought her mouth to his ear. “I was hopin’ you weren’t tired of me yet, Thompson,” she cooed, flicking her tongue in his ear.
He recalled all Polly could do with that tongue of hers. Capital idea. He would set aside his concerns for the troubled girl now under his protection and lose himself in a tumble with the experienced chit.
He smiled at the maid. “It’s been too long since last you gifted me with your favors, Polly.”
Her eyes sparkled. “Ya’ always give as much pleasure as ya’ take.”
She left his lap to see to the other patrons and just as quickly left his mind. He’d watched Taylor closely from the moment she’d stepped into the room, unable to drag his gaze away. She moved with an unconscious sensuality, and his notice of it was clear despite the ale he’d consumed. When she’d seen him at last he hadn’t missed her reaction, the slight flare of her nostrils and the widening of those incredible eyes. He certainly hadn’t missed his own response. His cock had hardened despite his mind’s resolve.
Perhaps a bit of brandy would quiet his worry over her. As for his desire, he’d set it aside. It was bad enough Blake had discovered nothing of Robert since he’d disappeared. He could not lust after his best friend’s little sister.
The memory of her soft lush body pressed against his sent another stab of lust piercing through his fogged brain. He couldn’t ignore the truth of it.
He placed his elbows on the scarred table and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Bloody hell.”
Chapter 3
Taylor peeked into the dining room, relieved to see that the last patron had left The Hideaway. She’d passed enough time in the kitchen then. Polly was also blessedly gone. Taylor didn’t know where Blake was and wouldn’t wonder.
“I’m leavin’ for home, Taylor,” Annie said with a yawn.
“Good night, Annie.”
“G’night,” Annie said. “Don’t let what happened this evenin’ trouble ya’.”
Taylor stilled. Had everyone seen her foolish reaction to Blake’s smile, to his behavior with Polly? She simply nodded, saying nothing. It would serve her well to harden herself to all of it. She had more pressing matters to attend to.
She left the dining room and as she passed by Blake’s office she saw the door was ajar. She paused before it and raised her fist. Really, what harm was there in bidding her benefactor good night? With one soft knock the door swung open. She froze at the sight before her. Blake sat in his chair, Polly held close in his lap. Her hands were twined in his thick black waves as he buried his face in the swell of her breasts. Polly moaned softly as he moved his hands to cup her bottom.
Taylor must have made a noise, she wasn’t certain, because Blake’s clouded gaze flicked toward her. He gave a start and loosened his hold on the serving maid.
“Taylor,” he murmured.
Polly turned her head, shooting her a look of triumph.
“I . . . I,” Taylor stammered. “G-good night.”
She withdrew and closed the door, leaning against the panel as she squeezed her eyes shut. Polly’s laugh came then, sharp and mocking through the wood at her back.
Taylor hurried up the stairs to her room. How could she think Blake was any different than Trevor? He was just another selfish man thinking only of his own desires. The foolish little girl she’d been seemed to cry with that realization.
* * *
Blake tried to make sense of what had just happened. Why had Taylor come to his offic
e at this hour? And why had she looked so shocked? Ignoring Polly in his lap, he leaned toward the desk and poured himself another brandy.
“Ya’ thinkin’ ’bout that drab little dove?” Polly asked.
He took a sip of brandy as he looked at her. The promise in her dark eyes should have sent a shiver of desire through him, but his body remained still. She wriggled in his lap and he turned to face her.
“Polly, perhaps another time—”
“Don’t be a fool, Thompson,” she cut in. “I can make ya’ forget about that little girl.”
Not bloody likely. He felt nothing as Polly ran her hands over him, only a tiny flicker of lust as her fingers trailed over the front of his breeches. As she came to her knees before him, he lifted his glass and watched absently as she unbuttoned his breeches. He took a long drink as she bent her head.
She took him in her mouth and at last his flesh reacted. He placed his glass on the desk and closed his eyes, giving himself up to the sensation and the release that was sure to come.
* * *
Blake awoke in his bed the next morning, the sheets tangled around his naked body. His head rapped its customary tune, sharp and sickening. Last night’s excesses made his body ache as well. Mixing ale and brandy hadn’t been the smartest thing he’d done in recent memory, but it had sent Taylor from his mind at last. The drink, and the woman who’d occupied his dark hours.
He vaguely remembered falling into his bed alone after his interlude with Polly. He must have had an inkling of common sense then. What had he been thinking? Ah, chastisement was out of place. More than one morning he’d woken up with some nameless wench in his bed. But now with Taylor at The Hideaway he needed to be more circumspect.
“Randy bastard,” he grumbled, the sound echoing in his head.
He stood and stretched, letting out a groan of protest that echoed his body’s wretched state. The sunlight was overly bright, causing him to wince. It was surely mid-morning. Hell. He’d hoped to speak to Taylor before she ran into Polly. God only knew what Polly would say about last night. He was worried about Taylor’s sensibilities. That was all. He was what he was. He surely didn’t care about her impressions of him as a gentleman. It was best she disabuse herself of the notion that he was anything but a man who did as he pleased with whomever pleased him.
Even so, his chamber was large and furnished much like a gentleman’s room. Aside from the wide bed of dark wood, the room had an oversized chair set close to the stone fireplace done in gray and blue to match the coverlet. A door set in one wall led to a dressing room, his one nod to the aristocratic life he’d left behind.
He entered the dressing room and crossed to the washstand. After splashing his face, the pounding in his head eased to a dull thrumming. Glancing in the mirror, he saw little evidence of last night’s excesses on his face. How long would that last?
Stubble darkened his cheeks. After shaving with care, he gently pushed his fingers through his hair. He washed the rest of his body and dressed. Black breeches were topped by a fine white shirt and cravat under a waistcoat of dove gray. The color brought Taylor to mind, the plain gown she wore, her stormy eyes. Shaking his head, he shrugged into a navy jacket. Not too badly wrinkled. Evidently, Billy, the lad he’d pressed into valet service, was beginning to learn his trade at last.
He left the dressing room and checked his appearance in the cheval glass. At least he looked like a titled innkeeper, though he didn’t care for either distinction. He’d heard gossip concerning a case, and suspected the matter would need his attention today.
Thank God he had that to hold his focus. It wouldn’t serve to spend any more time thinking about Taylor Shelby.
* * *
Taylor paused before Blake’s chamber door. After last night she shouldn’t long for his company, yet here she stood. As she raised her hand to knock, he opened the door and almost knocked her over as he stepped into the hallway. She drew herself up and faced him, keeping her gaze cool.
“Excuse me,” she whispered.
He ran his gaze over her and she resisted the urge to fix her hair or brush her hands over her skirt. Her thick gold waves were gathered at the nape of her neck with a plain ribbon that matched her simple tan gown, but she had little recourse for any fancier dress.
“Fresh and sweet,” he murmured.
Before she could ask his meaning, he leaned away from her and fixed a smile on his face. “Good morning, Taylor.”
She stared her fill at Blake as she had that first night. Lord, he was handsome in clothes fitting his station. He held himself stiffly, and a disturbing notion niggled at the back of her mind. She glanced around him and saw his large rumpled bed was empty. But the image of his arms around Polly was still burned on her mind.
“Mrs. Mott has eggs and smoked ham ready, Blake.” She mimicked his false smile with one of her own. And then she blurted out, “I thought we could take our morning meal together.”
Oh, Lord, where had that come from? She’d only thought to tell him the meal was ready.
“Capital idea, love,” he said.
She blinked at his easy use of the endearment. He’d said it yesterday, too. Surely it meant nothing. Surely he’d called Polly that and more last night. Her stomach gave a lurch. She was hungry, that’s all. Giving a nod, she turned to walk down the stairs. The sound of Blake’s footsteps on the treads followed behind her.
As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she saw the dining room looked as dismal as it had last night. But the sideboard laden with breakfast fare did much to improve the space. The cook came out of the kitchen with a platter of sweet rolls. The warm scent of cinnamon filled the air and her stomach rumbled in earnest.
“Oh, Mrs. Mott,” Taylor said. “Everything looks lovely.”
The cook grumbled but gave Taylor a small smile. “Silly it is, servin’ food like this.”
She laughed. “But Mrs. Mott, this is the way we eat breakfast in the country. And your fine fare exceeds my expectations this morning.”
The older woman broke into a bright smile that dimmed when she looked at Blake. Mrs. Mott mumbled something and wiped her hands on the apron covering her ample midsection.
“Enjoy yer meal,” Mrs. Mott said. She gestured toward Annie and Polly. “You girls can serve the tea.”
Blake grasped Taylor’s elbow and led her to the sideboard. “I take it this was your idea?”
She flushed from his attention and his touch. “Yes. I thought starting the day as . . . Never mind, pray.”
“Starting the day as what, Taylor?”
“I just miss the country, Blake. The days starting so bright and early. Nothing more than hours stretching ahead to fill with gathering flowers.” She slanted him a look. “Fishing.”
He started, then laughed softly. “Fishing? More like you falling into the lake and Robert and I having to fish you out. Your mother nearly tanned both our hides for getting you into trouble one particular afternoon. Hell, if my mother had found out she would have cut the switch herself that day.”
Taylor smiled at his recollections. His mother was gone from this life even longer than her own. Lady Thompson had been sweet and kind and had welcomed the Shelby children into her home as readily as her own mother welcomed Blake and Blake’s older brother, Jason.
“Your mother was as protective as ours, Blake.” She smiled, then lifted her chin. “Besides, I didn’t fall into the lake every time.”
“No. In fact there was the one time with the ducks.” He laughed again. “God, I’d nearly forgotten about the ducks. They all but ate you, Taylor. They chased you up and down the shore until you were covered head to toe in mud. We never could figure out why they were chasing you.”
“I had worms in the pockets of my apron.”
His eyes widened, then he shook his head. “Now, why am I not surprised?”
They shared a warm look that made her cheeks flush.
“I admit the finer customs are decidedly lacking here.” He smiled. �
�I appreciate starting the day with a hearty meal and good company.”
The room was empty except for two diners and the other serving maids, but that didn’t stop Taylor from flushing even hotter. She served herself from the sideboard and sat at the nearest table. The eggs were adequate, but the sweet rolls! She could almost forgive the dreary place for the rich, tasty pastry.
Blake took his plate loaded with ham, eggs and rolls, and joined Taylor. When Polly slid over to the table, she threw Blake a wink and he flashed a guilty smile. Taylor lowered her eyes to the table and chewed a bite of sweet roll, barely tasting it now. Out of the corner of her eye she watched Polly leave their table.
“It meant nothing,” Blake said in a low voice.
Taylor’s head shot up. How could he dismiss such intimacies? “Nothing?” she whispered.
He winced in response to that one hushed word. They ate in silence after that. Had she imagined the moment they’d shared earlier? The connection they’d had from the past and their childhood?
Taylor finished her meal and stood, but Blake’s hand on her wrist stilled her.
“Taylor, wait.”
She stared at that hand, those long fingers on her flesh. The sudden image of his hands on more than her wrist sent heat through her. But he’d put those hands on Polly last night. That thought sufficiently chilled her.
She withdrew from his grasp. “If you will excuse me?”
He came to his feet. “You don’t know the type of life I’ve led—”
“Thompson!” a man called from the entry of the pub.
Taylor glanced at the man, easily seeing his upset. His fine tan jacket was rumpled and his brown hair stood on end. Lines bracketed his mouth and his thick brows were drawn together as he hurried toward Blake.
“In my office, Bates,” Blake said to him.
The man gave a jerky nod and turned on his heel. Her curiosity piqued, Taylor turned back to Blake. “Blake, is this about Robert—?”
A Hero and A Gentleman Page 3
