Blake gave a shake of his head to silence her. “Excuse me.” Nodding to Taylor, he left the dining room.
* * *
Blake frowned as he made his way to his office. Taylor had always been a clever girl, and now she seemed as sharp as her brother. God, he’d made a muddle of things this morning. He’d only wanted to reassure her that he only shared pleasure with Polly now and then. But Taylor’s clear shock when he’d tried to dismiss their tryst only reminded him of her innocence.
Reminiscing about their childhood in Sussex had brought a curious warmth to his chest. He still missed his mother. She’d been the glue holding their family together and when she died, everything had fallen apart. He and Jason had remained close but their father had turned cold, distant.
He couldn’t worry about it now. Not his family’s issues or his nostalgic affection for Taylor. Bates was wound tight this morning. He went to his office and found Bates pacing back and forth in front of his desk.
“What have you learned?” Blake asked as he closed the door.
“There’s a note, Thompson,” Bates said. “One of the maids found a note from Mary behind a chair in the library. It seems she was bound for Suffolk and—”
“Suffolk?” Blake cut in. “Fool girl. Why did your sister trust that reprobate?”
Bates paled. “I don’t know. But we must recover her. Miles has no honorable intentions, I’m certain. She’ll never make a good marriage if word gets out that she left with him.”
Blake swallowed a curse and sat behind his desk. Suffolk wouldn’t bring him any closer to learning Robert’s whereabouts, but a case was a case and Bates’s sister could be in real danger.
He raised his eyes to Bates. “Do you know the location?”
Bates nodded vigorously and Blake handed him a sheet of paper. The man quickly wrote down the information. Blake stood and walked past him to the door, tucking the paper into his jacket pocket. He turned at last, his hand on the doorknob, and fixed a grim smile on his client. “My fee will reflect the inconvenience, Bates.”
“Yes, yes,” Bates agreed. “Anything. Just bring her home.”
Blake gave him a sharp nod and left the office, bound for the stables behind The Hideaway.
* * *
The pub grew crowded sooner than usual that evening and Taylor hurried to finish her meal. After Blake’s hasty departure that morning, Taylor had thought of little but him—the way he’d looked when he’d opened the door to his chamber, dressed as the gentleman she knew him to be, the concern she’d glimpsed on his face when that harried man rushed into the pub. Had he something to do with Robert?
“Where’s Thompson, Polly girl?” Taylor heard one man ask.
Polly shrugged one shoulder. “Off on one of his missions.” She winked at him.
“I daresay ya’ won’t miss his attentions, eh?” The man was dressed as a country gentleman, if a bit disheveled. He grinned at Polly and Taylor guessed he knew the girl intimately. The glint in Polly’s eyes clearly showed her interest in him.
How could Polly give her attentions to him after spending last night with Blake? When Blake had said it meant nothing Taylor had been shocked to her toes. How could that mean nothing?
Her blood stirred when Blake so much as smiled at her. Her skin tingled from one touch of his strong hands. She imagined herself in Polly’s place, perched on Blake’s lap as those strong hands touched every inch of her body. A rush of heat warmed her face. Could she be so commonplace? She placed a hand at her throat and felt her fluttering pulse. Somehow, she didn’t think so.
Chapter 4
Blake returned to The Hideaway past two o’clock in the morning. Mary Bates had fought him like a hellion when he’d tracked her down with her lying lover, insisting the scoundrel had her best interests at heart. Miles, the rake, hadn’t perpetuated that tale to someone as worldly as Blake. Miraculously, at least, Miles hadn’t yet ruined her. No doubt because he’d gotten too drunk to perform the duty. There was also the fact that Blake had to pull the man’s bony backside off the silly girl before he could even begin the intended deflowering. It was a relief to be certain. Blake had no wish to serve as Bates’s second.
He eyed the empty dining room with little interest and entered the kitchen. His stomach growled and he quickly dispatched a few pieces of bread and a thick slab of cheese. A tankard of ale finished his meal and he climbed the stairs to his chamber.
The hall was quiet. No doubt the place was empty except for his tender charge. Taylor’s door was closed tight. Blake fought the urge to knock. Imagine her shock if he attempted a visit. A tired laugh escaped him and he shook his head. Ah, but she’d be a welcome bundle there on the iron bed, all tousled and warm and lovely. He shook his head and continued on to his room two doors down.
As he stripped off his clothes, he sucked in a breath at the tenderness in his side. That little fool, Mary, had kicked and punched him as he’d hauled her out of Miles’s arms. His ribs would ache like the devil tomorrow. He stripped off his breeches and crawled into his bed. Unable to sleep on his side he turned on his back. He placed his hands beneath his head and stared up at the beamed ceiling.
Worry had nagged him all day regarding Taylor’s safety at the pub in his absence. He hadn’t given much thought to Taylor’s sensitivities. Polly wasn’t a vicious girl. Surely she’d found another man to keep her busy and wouldn’t bother Taylor with her tales. But the patrons of The Hideaway . . . Had one of the bastards attempted more than a pinch or tickle before Taylor had gone up to her room? He had to check on her.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and pulled on his breeches. “Just a quick look,” he muttered in the dark. “Just to make sure she’s all right.”
He went to her chamber and quietly eased the door open. Taylor was just as he’d imagined, lovely and soft in the bit of moonlight coming through the window. Her golden hair covered the pillow and his fingers itched to feel the silky waves. Thick black lashes brushed her cheeks, which were flushed from sleep. Her full lips parted as she drew in a breath. She turned slightly on the bed and Blake sucked in a breath himself.
The linens barely covered Taylor’s tiny waist, and one shapely ankle peeped from beneath the sheet. The narrow strap of her chemise drooped off one creamy shoulder and her full breasts nearly spilled from their confinement in the thin garment. Rising with each breath she took, the flesh almost beckoned him to touch it.
It would be so easy, such a simple thing, to strip off his breeches and join her in that bed. Her pleasure would be aroused before she awakened. He knew the response he’d get were he to place his hands on Taylor’s flawless skin. He’d kiss and fondle those full breasts, those pink nipples. He’d part her legs and urge her to want him as much as he wanted her.
His body rigid with desire, he shook his head as he kept his distance from the tempting package on the bed. “My God,” he rasped.
Taylor let out a sigh, as soft as a whisper, and Blake’s arousal grew almost painful. Ah, to hear her make such a sound when he awoke her pleasure, to catch her cries in his mouth as she found her release . . . Why the devil was he torturing himself?
He left her at last and returned to his chamber. He wouldn’t be the one to awaken passion in Taylor. She’d gift her husband with her maidenhead and her pleasure. Blake squeezed his eyes shut and prayed for sleep in spite of his throbbing need. Why the hell had he gone into her room?
Tomorrow he was putting a lock on her door. For her own safety, of course. And his own sanity.
* * *
The next morning Taylor stood at the bottom of the stairs as Blake descended. “You’re back!”
“You were worried?” he teased.
Taylor marveled at the light in Blake’s beautiful eyes. He seemed almost pleased by her interest in him.
“It’s not my place to question your activities,” she said. “Except where Robert’s case is involved.”
His expression sobered. “Yesterday’s activities were decidedly
dull. Nothing to do with your brother, I’m afraid.” He turned her toward the sideboard. “Let’s eat, Taylor. No doubt Mrs. Mott has attempted to improve on yesterday’s morning repast.”
That hand grasping her elbow so possessively had her stomach doing its fluttering dance again. Once she ate one of the cook’s delicious rolls it would cease its tumbling. They served themselves from the sideboard and once more shared a table of their own. He winced as he shifted, sucking in a breath.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
He shook his head. “My activities weren’t without some consequences, I daresay.”
She knew what he did was dangerous. Wasn’t her brother missing because of their work? She itched with curiosity to know what his mission had entailed, but aside from his discomfort, she didn’t believe him seriously injured. Nodding at his dismissal, she turned her attention to her breakfast.
“How did you fare yesterday?” Blake asked.
Taylor sipped from her teacup, then set it aside as she contemplated the best answer she could give him. “I’m growing accustomed to The Hideaway.” The worry returned to his eyes and she folded her hands in her lap and assumed an air of serenity she didn’t feel. “The work isn’t terribly difficult.”
He chuckled. “I don’t doubt your competence, love,” he said. “You were always bright. But how did you fare last evening, at the dinner hour?”
Her cheeks heated as she thought of the offers she’d deflected last night. And she’d only been in the dining room for half an hour!
“I survived,” she said.
His dark brows drew together. “You shouldn’t have to put up with such treatment, Taylor. I’ll go to Sussex and speak to your cousin. Perhaps—”
“No!” she cried. She recovered herself and looked about the dining room. Thankfully no one paid her much attention except for a glance from Polly. “Just find Robert, Blake. I don’t want you involved in my affairs.”
His eyes grew dark. “I’m already involved.”
She waited for him to add something to that cryptic statement, but nothing more came from him. She studied him as he ate. He seemed to have something on his mind other than her circumstances. Perhaps yesterday’s mysterious mission still troubled him today. Or maybe . . .
“Are you worried about something, Blake? Is it Robert?”
He looked up. “Hmm? No. I have some work today, but I should be here this evening. But to be certain I’m having a proper lock put on your door.”
She couldn’t hide her relief that he would be present tonight. He must have read something in her expression for his brows arched in surprise. “You’ll be safe here,” he said, his voice low and intense. “For as long as you need to. You have my word.”
His word. She poured more tea for the two of them. Why did she want so much more than his word?
* * *
Blake sat at his usual table that evening, far from the kitchens yet close enough to view all four corners of the dining room. The Hideaway often drew the less-than-savory to sample its fare and spirits, but it wasn’t crowded at this early hour. That had been his primary worry last night, that Taylor would find herself in a situation one of the other girls or Mrs. Mott wouldn’t have been able to save her from. She was as innocent as she appeared.
He thought back to that morning. For the first time in recent memory, he’d awoken without the thrum of overindulgence knocking in his head. Still tired from yesterday’s difficulties and stiff from the injuries he’d received, he’d risen to wash and ready for the day. As he left his room, the smell of butter and bread and sausages had greeted him. At least he could count on a delicious breakfast now that Taylor directed Mrs. Mott. That the formidable cook bent to Taylor’s wishes astounded him. But Taylor was most persuasive when she turned that bright smile in a person’s direction. Hadn’t he given her a position at the public house despite his plans to the contrary?
“Minx,” he smiled to himself.
She’d greeted him at the bottom of the stairs and Blake had basked in the brightness of her expression for a moment. Her blue-gray eyes sparkled, her cheeks were pink, and he’d hungered for more than Mrs. Mott’s fine fare.
Taylor caught his eye again. Ah, but she made a pleasing picture tonight. Her hair, that glorious mane of golden waves caught in a ribbon, fell nearly to her waist. The silken strands caught the candlelight as she made her way among the tables toward the kitchen with her own dishes. Her delectable curves were both modestly covered and blatantly displayed. The contradiction pleased him.
As she made her way through the room other men feasted their eyes on her. Gripping his tankard, he watched as his irritation began to burn toward anger. On second thought, maybe she should take her meals in her room.
Movement to his side caused him to turn sharply, and his anger was replaced with pleased surprise. “Jason!” He grinned.
His brother mirrored the expression as Blake came to his feet. The two men shook hands.
“Hello, little brother,” Jason Thompson said.
Jason looked much like his brother, with black hair and blue eyes. As tall as Blake, the viscount cut an imposing figure in genteel society. Blake had always taken note of the carefree way Jason carried himself, and that ease was evident tonight as he folded his elegantly-clad form onto a chair.
“What brings you to The Hideaway, brother?” Blake asked as he took his own seat.
Jason was silent for a moment as looked around the dining room. Catching Polly’s eye, he winked and the girl quickly brought him some ale.
“You be wantin’ anythin’ else, m’lord?” she asked with a sly smile.
Jason barked out a laugh and nodded. “Later, Polly.” The girl’s smile widened and she hurried to see to the other patrons. Jason let out an exaggerated sigh and leaned back in his chair. “Ah, I’ve missed the lures of the country, brother.”
“I can see that.”
Blake watched his brother as he drank deeply from his tankard. Jason was there for a reason. The brothers were close despite Blake’s self-imposed exile from the family. He knew it was only a matter of time before Jason revealed the problem.
“How are you faring here, Blake?” Jason asked him.
Blake shrugged, the effort causing him to wince at the slight pull in his side. He absently rubbed his hand over his ribs. “Had a bit of trouble on my last case.”
Jason’s brows rose a notch. “I assume you gave as good as you got?”
“Hardly,” he said. “I’d no sooner hit a woman than I would a child.”
“A woman?” Jason’s eyes sparkled at the prospect. “Pray, enlighten me on the particulars.”
He told Jason of silly Mary Bates and her dubious suitor.
“The chit believed me the villain, Jason,” he said, “despite her brother’s insistence that her choice of lovers was less than suitable.”
Jason gave a rueful smile. “At least you escaped with your—My God! Where did you find that vision?”
Blake straightened and saw Taylor had reentered the dining room. She flipped one golden curl back from her face as she walked toward them. He smiled at the graceful motion, but quickly lost that smile at his brother’s low curse.
Jason’s eyes went round as he recognized her. “Why the hell is Taylor Shelby here?” He frowned. “Don’t you appreciate the dangers that could befall a sweet little chit like her?”
Blake swallowed his irritation. “I well appreciate that, brother,” he said. “The girl came to me a few days ago. She claimed to need a place to stay and I couldn’t refuse her.”
Jason cursed again. “Her father died. Father told me of it when I was there a fortnight ago.”
Blake nodded. “She wants me to find Robert.” He blew out a breath. “As if I haven’t searched for him for over a month now.”
Jason eyed Taylor’s lovely little body. He turned and narrowed his eyes on Blake. “Have you compromised her virtue?”
Blake snorted. “You choose a fine time to remember
your nobility, my lord. A moment ago you were all but slavering over her.”
“I didn’t know who she was at first.” Jason shrugged. “I would’ve seen her quality, though. Even if I hadn’t recognized her. It’s crystal clear.”
Blake watched Taylor glide through the dim room, fairly shining with grace. “Yes, it is.”
“My lord!” Taylor said as she stopped before their table. “I haven’t seen you since . . . Well, I can’t recall when you were last in Sussex.”
Jason stood and bowed low to Taylor, taking her hand in his. He dropped a kiss on that fair skin and Blake couldn’t ignore the wave of possessiveness that took over him.
“It’s easily been too long, I believe,” Jason said with a smile. “You look lovely as always, Miss Shelby.”
Taylor nodded in thanks, which Blake barely noticed, his attention still focused on the large hand that hadn’t yet relinquished Taylor’s small one. And the light sparkling in the girl’s blue-gray eyes caused Blake’s stomach to clench.
“Are you here to help find my brother, my lord?” she asked Jason. “Do you have any news?”
Jason’s grin was just a flash before he sobered. “Jason, please. Have we not known each other for years?”
At least he’d finally let go of her hand, Blake noted with satisfaction.
“Forever,” she said with a smile.
“Sadly, I have no news regarding your brother’s disappearance. I’m paying a call on my little brother,” Jason said. “He’s been too long from London, I daresay.”
Taylor cocked her head to one side. She turned to face Blake fully and he felt the interest in her eyes clear to his soul.
“Can you see to a meal for Jason on your way out, Taylor?” Blake asked. “We have a matter to discuss at present.”
Her brow furrowed and he knew her curiosity of the morning was once more pricked. He softened his demand with a smile that she amazingly returned. She walked slowly toward the kitchen, her skirt swaying as she eyed him over one shoulder. He arched a brow at her, mirroring his father’s most arrogant expression, and she shook her head at him.
A Hero and A Gentleman Page 4
