Taylor peeked around Blake. The man, Duggins, shot her a look of irritation and splayed his pudgy hands before him.
“I’ll go, I’ll go,” Duggins said. “Didn’t mean no harm,” he grumbled.
Taylor clung to the back of Blake’s jacket. Duggins picked up his jacket from the back of his chair and quit the public house. Blake turned his head and glared at Taylor over his shoulder.
She dropped her hands from his jacket and took a step back. “Blake, I don’t know why that man—”
“You don’t know why?” He almost shouted. “Look at yourself!”
Taylor blinked and dropped her gaze. There was nothing wrong with her dress, except for its simple cut and fabric. When she brought her gaze back to Blake’s face, the accusation in his eyes swiftly turned her confusion to anger.
“There is nothing wrong with what I’m wearing,” she said, her hands on her hips.
Blake glowered at her and glanced over at his brother. He mumbled something and stalked to where Jason sat. “What the bloody hell were you doing while she was getting pawed, Jason?”
“Blake, I was watching her. I just had my eyes off her for a moment.”
“I asked you to look after her,” Blake said.
Jason lazily shrugged one shoulder and set Polly from him. She hurried into the kitchen and Taylor briefly envied her escape. Out of the corner of her eye she spied the two remaining diners taking their leave, elbowing each other and chuckling. She ignored them and stomped to where Blake stood glaring down at his brother.
“Blake,” she began, “you do not—”
He shot her a quelling look. “Hush, Taylor,” he said. “This is between Jason and me.”
She wouldn’t be dismissed out of hand. “The devil it is!” she cried. Both men stared at her with looks of astonishment on their faces. She brushed her hair from her face and placed her hands on her hips once more. “I won’t be discussed like some child who got herself into mischief while her nurse was away!”
Jason grinned behind his hand but she didn’t miss the expression. Blake grabbed her elbow and urged her from the room. He said nothing as he hurried up the stairs and down the hallway. Again, she was to be pushed and prodded at a man’s hands! She dug in her heels and whirled on him.
“Don’t put your hands on me!” she shouted. “I’ve been manhandled enough for one evening, thank you.”
Blake opened his mouth to say something, no doubt a superior masculine observation of her place in the world in general and at The Hideaway in particular. She held up one hand to still him.
“I don’t know why that man thought to try that,” she said. “I was merely serving him ale. I didn’t invite—”
“I do, Taylor,” he cut in, his eyes glinting. “I can clearly see what drew his attention.”
Chapter 7
Blake stared down at Taylor, at this girl who’d filled his thoughts today, and almost laughed at the confusion on her face. She really had no notion of her own alluring beauty. He cupped her face with his hands, stroking those smooth pink cheeks, and took a calming breath. His anger faded away, the rage that had filled him when he saw Duggins manhandling her.
“Blake, what is it?” She looked at him with confusion on her face.
He knew his eyes betrayed him. He knew he was looking at her with an intensity that was threatening to burst. “You don’t know your own appeal, Taylor,” he said, reining in his emotions. He brought his face close to hers. “My God, when I saw his hands on you . . . I don’t like seeing you sitting on another man’s lap.”
He closed his eyes but couldn’t get the image out of his mind.
“What did you learn in London?” she asked quickly. “Have you found anything of Robert?”
“Oh, for the love of—” He knew she was trying to change the subject. And he didn’t need reminding about his guilt regarding Robert. “You think to question me about that when you just willingly put yourself in harm’s way?”
She waved a hand. “I was helping out, that’s all. Annie was sick and couldn’t work. You’re being unreasonable.”
“You could have been hurt, you little fool.” He cursed under his breath as he shook his head. “We might have already lost Robert. I won’t lose you too.”
He grabbed her and kissed her. Damn him to Hell, he kissed her. She tasted hot and sweet, her succulent lips inviting the deepest caress. Boldly, he pressed his tongue against her mouth, urging her desire to match his. She clung to him, parting her lips as an invitation. He groaned and took her mouth, tilting her head gently to gain better access.
Taylor wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her body against his. He moaned softly. She was innocent. She didn’t know her own sensuality or her effect on him. None of that mattered as she ran her fingers through his hair and let out a purr of pleasure. He turned and set her against the nearest wall, grinding himself against her until he thought he’d die from the heat. Her hips cuddled his arousal and he ran his hands over her. He cupped one breast and pinched the peak he felt through the muslin of her dress.
“Oh!” she gasped.
He watched her as he caressed her, the passion etched on her face as he stroked her. She bit her lower lip and closed her eyes. He brought his lips to her neck, just below her ear.
“I want you, Taylor,” he rasped, his tongue flicking over her silken skin. “Does that frighten you?”
Taylor opened her eyes and gazed up at him. When she shook her head he nearly shouted his relief. She looked up at him with such trust in her passion-filled eyes. Reality struck him in the next moment. He was no better than that dolt in the dining room. She had no one now, not her father or brother. He took a step away from her. She swayed on her feet, her hands clinging to his shoulders.
“I can’t,” he muttered. “God, love. I can’t.”
He turned and hurried down the stairs to his office. And the waiting bottle of brandy.
* * *
Taylor slumped against the wall, her pulse racing. Blake’s beautiful lips, his incredible fingers . . . Oh, she’d wanted him all of her life. First as a child wants a playmate, then as a young girl wants a knight to rescue her. But this . . . this desire turned her legs to water. She wanted Blake as a woman wants a man. She wanted him to take her, to love her.
She stared down the hallway longing for Blake to come back, to finish what he’d started. Shame filled her as she entered her room. She turned the lock and slumped her shoulders.
“Oh, Father,” she sobbed.
What was to become of her? Blake didn’t need the burden of a wife. Not one thrust on him through guilt or circumstance. But he wanted her. He’d said so when he placed those delicious kisses on her throat.
She’d never be a rich man’s mistress. She yearned to be a wife and mother. And even though she craved Blake’s touch, she could never be his plaything. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself. What would her father, God rest his soul, think of his only daughter if she sold herself so cheaply? If she gave up her hopes and dreams to have but a small part of Blake’s life? Absolutely not! She had to find Robert. When she’d asked after her brother tonight Blake had seemed . . . guilty. Not guilty, precisely. But more troubled than her simple question should have warranted.
Blake couldn’t be responsible. He loved Robert as a brother and would never have purposely put him in danger. What happened on that fateful night?
When Blake’s note had arrived at Shelby Manor, her father hadn’t wanted to share the contents with her. However, he’d never been able to deny her anything, so he’d let her read it for herself. Her brother had been working on a case and had failed to return to The Hideaway. Blake hadn’t offered any details. Robert, damn him, had been coming and going between Blake’s inn and the manor for so long that their father had wondered if he would ever settle down. Often he’d stay with Blake for weeks at a time. Father had always missed Robert and welcomed him heartily whenever he returned and her carefree brother seemed as though nothing could ever
touch him. In fact, he’d always assured them that he would never put himself in danger. Now she knew he’d been lying. Each and every time.
“Reckless fool,” she murmured.
She removed her gown and lifted the brush from the washstand. As she brushed her hair in long strokes she closed her eyes and thought of the desire Blake awoke in her. And the despair when he’d left her. Her father was dead and buried. Her brother was missing.
She was alone in the world now.
* * *
“You can’t deny it any longer, brother.”
Blake lifted his head from his desk and found Jason quirking a smile at him. His mind pleasantly clouded from his expensive brandy, he returned the expression. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jason.”
Jason walked into the office and shut the door. “Ha!”
Blake spat out a curse and sat back in his chair. “Now see here—”
“You want the chit,” Jason cut in. “Don’t deny it.”
Blake opened his mouth to protest, letting out nothing save for a groan of defeat. “Yes, I want her,” he muttered.
Jason sat down in the chair across from him. “Will you marry her?”
Blake started. “What? Why would I?”
“She’s not a doxy, Blake,” Jason said. “She’s a gentleman’s daughter and Robert’s little sister.”
Blake ignored the flash of an image in his mind, of the pleasing notion of passing his days with so lovely and sweet a companion as Taylor. But Pamela’s betrayal four years ago still stung. He should be happy his father had arranged for Blake to discover her riding one of their grooms with more enthusiasm than she’d ever shown for one of their horses.
He’d been so sure of her devotion. So in love with the beautiful debutante that he ignored every warning his father had given him. How could the earl know a young woman’s heart? Yes, she flirted with every tradesman and worker on the estate and in the village, but he’d told himself she was just being friendly. He’d been so damn young and naïve. His father could have taken him aside during the engagement party. He could have told Blake all she’d been up to. He silently chided himself. He had to admit he never would have listened. And now? He’d never think himself in love again.
“I have no need for a wife,” Blake told his brother. “A few stolen kisses don’t demand an offer of marriage, brother.”
“You’ve kissed her?” Jason asked. He rubbed a hand over his face. “Ah, what a bloody mess.”
“A kiss has never enticed you to exchange your freedom for leg-shackles,” Blake grumbled.
Jason opened his mouth, finally shaking his head.
“So there you have it,” Blake said. He spread his arms wide. “I’ll keep myself from Taylor and we’ll go on as though nothing happened.”
“She can’t stay here, brother,” Jason said as he came to his feet. “That’s for sure.”
Alarm struck Blake. She couldn’t leave. “Why should she leave?”
“Blake, she was nearly assaulted!” Jason said. “My God, don’t you see the danger?”
Blake shook his muddled head. “No I don’t,” he said. “I’ll be here. I’ll make sure no one puts their hands on her again.”
Jason laughed harshly. “No one but yourself?” he asked. “And what of your cases? Will you abandon your work? What about your search for Robert?”
He couldn’t deny the truth. People counted on him. Taylor counted on him. And there was Robert to consider.
“You’re right,” he grumbled. “Find her a bloody governess position somewhere. Take her the hell away from here. Away from me.”
“Do you really want me to?” Jason asked. “It’s no matter. She won’t leave. Not as long as Robert is still missing.”
Blake knew in his heart, Jason was right on that count.
“More’s the pity,” he grumbled.
“I’m leaving for London tomorrow, Blake,” Jason said. “Tell me. Do I look for a position for the lovely Taylor? Or can you think of another inducement to keep her precisely where she is? By your side?”
Blake shook his head and thought furiously. Memories intruded, his body’s response to Taylor, his heart’s insistence that she belonged to him. But he’d been wrong before.
“She isn’t Pamela,” Jason stated.
“Christ, I know that!”
“Then why do you let what happened before stop you now?”
“You were there, Jason. You saw what Father did.”
“Yes. He did you a favor.”
“A favor? He tore my heart out. It was horrible seeing my own fiancée in the stables like a common doxy.”
“Would you have believed him otherwise?”
“No. I would have thought it was another of his controlling tactics. He never did like Pamela.” Blake looked into his brother’s eyes. “Did you know?”
“That she was free with her favors all over Sussex? God, no. I told you that then, but you were so hell bent on leaving Thompson Park we barely had time to talk. She’d flirted with me on more than one occasion but I never thought she’d take a tumble with any man who flirted back.”
“I wish things had been different, Jason. Between Father and me. Then maybe I would have listened to him.”
“You can’t go back in time brother. When Mother died, he did too.”
Blake eyed his brother. Their mother had been sweet but strong. A lot like Taylor, actually. When she’d gotten sick, while tending Blake through an illness, it had proven too much for her. He’d rebounded like the healthy boy he was but she’d never recovered. The physician said she hadn’t caught Blake’s sickness but Blake had seen his father’s eyes. He’d felt the blame and taken on the guilt. Every time his father looked at him Blake saw it. The accusation. The conviction that Blake was to blame. It was a lot to carry for a boy and it was damn tiresome for a man.
“Taylor would make any man but me a wonderful wife, Jason. With my work? No. I caught a glimpse of what she went through when she learned of Robert’s disappearance. I couldn’t bear to put her through anything like that. I fear that if she stays she’ll fall in love with me.”
“And what is so wrong with that?”
Blake’s stomach churned. “No. I can’t take the chance of hurting her. Or getting hurt myself. I already can’t stand to see another man look at her.”
“Again, she is not Pamela.”
“I know that.” He tapped his forehead. “Here.” His heart began to race. He couldn’t talk any more about Taylor or marriage. “Pray, take her off my hands.”
Jason snorted. “As you wish, brother,” he said. “I’ll be back within a fortnight, hopefully with an offer—a respectable offer—for the girl.”
“Go away then, brother. All this reminiscing is ruining the effects of my fine brandy.”
Jason muttered something Blake’s sotted mind didn’t catch. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Blake,” he said clearly. “When the effects of your fine brandy have worn off.”
Blake watched his brother leave, then splashed more brandy into his glass. It was a pity that the liquor couldn’t erase the taste of Taylor’s lips, of her mouth welcoming him with sensual innocence.
“Taylor will leave The Hideaway,” he vowed, his voice harsh to his own ears. “But ah, God. I want her. Despite what my life has been these past four years.”
She needed to leave for her own good. For her own safety yes, but it was more than that. He wasn’t the man for her. Not as a husband and certainly not as a lover. She might be confused in the short run. Wondering how he could kiss her like that and then push her away. She was better off without him. His cases. His women. His life with absolutely no moorings save for The Hideaway and the occasional meal with his brother. He couldn’t offer her a family or stability. And definitely not love.
He could only pray that someday she would see that.
Chapter 8
The next morning Blake found Taylor in the dining room. He walked to the table and stared down at her, momentaril
y at a loss for words. She came to her feet and placed her hands on her hips.
“Stop scowling at me, Blake,” she said.
He stepped back. “Come into my office, Taylor.”
She glanced about the dining room as if nervous to be alone with him. But she wasn’t afraid. Even last night, when he would have gladly taken all she’d have given, he’d sensed no fear from her. No doubt she was worried about yet another confrontation. His words seemed to cause more trouble than his kisses could solve where she was concerned.
She inclined her head in response and turned to walk toward his office. He reached to grasp her elbow, at which she lifted her chin a notch higher and continued at a faster pace.
He followed her into the office and closed the door, watching as she hesitantly settled on the chair facing his desk. Her head bowed, her fingers clasped tightly in her lap, she was the picture of submissiveness. But he knew she was anything but docile. Taking a breath, he approached the desk and turned to face her.
“Taylor,” he began, a smile fixed on his face, “I must begin this discussion with an apology.”
A perfect golden brow arched at that but she made no verbal comment. Taking that as encouragement, he forged ahead.
“Last evening when I . . .” He swallowed. “I’m sorry for my behavior. I had no right to put my hands on you.” She simply stared up at him, her lips parted slightly. He wouldn’t think of the kisses they’d shared. Damn it, he wouldn’t.
“Be that as it may,” he went on, “I don’t believe you should continue working here at The Hideaway in the interim.”
She jumped to her feet. “I won’t trespass on your hospitality. I must have a means to make my way until Robert is found. Perhaps I’d spoken a bit out of turn last night, but Robert is my brother.”
“Yes, but—”
“And I have every right to ask after your investigations. I shouldn’t have let your seductive words and actions of last night keep me from that purpose.”
“It wasn’t my intention.”
A Hero and A Gentleman Page 7
