by Clee, Adele
“Must you examine every nuance?” she countered, gazing at the amber liquid sloshing about in the glass. “Why does your need to study mannerisms border on obsessive?”
“Because I was once duped into believing a lie.” The words tumbled carelessly from his mouth. He gave a weary sigh. Aware of the tension he’d held inside for nigh on two decades.
Miss Dunn gave him her full attention. “You were hurt, betrayed by someone you loved.”
Noah’s throat constricted. “Yes.”
His inner torment must surely be evident. But it was wrong to insist she reveal her secrets and demand the right to keep his own.
Miss Dunn’s pretty blue eyes softened. “Then she was a fool to reject you, sir. Your qualities are superior to any man of my acquaintance. A woman would be proud to have you for a husband.”
Though the lady had drawn the wrong conclusion, her faith in him stole his breath. “I—I was not duped by a lover.” No. Were that the case, he might have fallen in love again, been happy. “My mother convinced me all was well hours before she swallowed a fatal dose of laudanum.”
In the crippling silence that followed, Miss Dunn’s breathing grew as ragged as his own. The distress in her eyes mirrored the pain in his heart. Confusion and disbelief hung in the air, as heavy as they had on that dreadful day.
Noah drained his glass, then stood and placed the goblet on the mantel. Staring into the fire’s flames turned his mood reflective. Perhaps he might have prevented the tragedy. Perhaps he could have said something to alter the turn of events.
He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. The lady placed her glass next to his—hers full, his empty.
“Forgive me,” she whispered. “I would not have pressed you had I known.”
“Now you understand why I despise secrets, Miss Dunn.”
“Please, call me Eva,” she said in the gentle voice that touched him like a deeply moving melody. “Yes. And I understand your need to help women in distress.”
Despite her comment, he could feel the dark cloud of grief descending. The guilt. The frustration. The never-ending questions. “The irony is I can barely remember her, yet that one incident is like a black stain on my conscience.”
He’d never spoken those words to another soul, not even to his grandfather.
“You were a boy. Innocent. Naive to the ways of the world.”
“And yet I blame myself for that, too.”
Silence ensued.
Her comforting hand never left his shoulder.
“Then never again shall I keep anything from you, regardless of my embarrassment.” She inhaled. “An independent woman should not admit such a thing, but I dressed for you tonight. I wore the red gown because I wanted to show you the woman whose heart is bursting with passion.”
He turned to face her, his grief dissipating. “You show me that woman every time we’re together.”
“But you believe I’m practical and efficient.” She looked up at him through wide, sensual eyes, her full lips parted, just waiting to be kissed.
Noah couldn’t help but smile. “You’re a delightful package of contradictions.” And he wanted her in every conceivable way.
She screwed her petite nose. “A package?”
“A box of wonders.” He drank in her radiant beauty. “Indeed, a man might marvel for hours while examining every gift. You must have been disheartened when Cole arrived to play escort.”
“I doubt I have ever suffered a greater disappointment.”
He couldn’t help but reach out and tuck a stray tendril behind her ear. “And yet in the ballroom, you ran away the moment our gazes locked. Why? Was it my failure to dress appropriately?”
She squared her shoulders as if affronted he should think so. “I prefer a man with a strong mind.”
“Strong mind?” He laughed. “I had no intention of attending, yet could not stay away.”
“Why, because you refuse to relinquish control of the case to Mr Cole?”
“No. You know why I came.” His need to see her had taken command of his senses. The urge to touch her now saw him capture her gloved hand. “Why did you run?”
She swallowed hard. “Because I did not want Mr Cole to witness the change in me, the change brought about by your arrival.”
“Change?” He slipped her white glove past her elbow, sliding it down to her wrist. “Must you insist on being vague, Eva?”
“Y-you leave me breathless, sir.” She watched as he stripped the glove from her hand. “I find my legs struggle to support me when I’m in your presence. Mr Cole is determined to save you from your fleeting infatuation.”
Noah stroked his finger across her palm, following each fascinating line. “Is that what he said?”
“Indeed.”
“We’re like brothers. He knows me better than anyone, fears the bonds may be broken, snatched from his grasp like every good thing in his life.”
“He wishes to protect you, to protect himself.”
“Yes. Our work for the Order has given us a purpose. Cole doesn’t want me to throw it away for a woman.”
“Then you won’t mind if I remind you of your own advice.” She visibly shivered as he trailed his finger to her wrist and drew circles. “The wrong woman might insist you stop these dangerous pursuits. The right woman won’t want to change a thing. The right woman will want you exactly as you are.”
Was Eva Dunn the right woman?
Instinct said so.
“There were so many beautiful ladies at the ball tonight,” she said, flutters of desire evident in every breath. The nervous energy radiating from her was perhaps the reason she kept talking. “You stole their attention the moment you entered the room.”
“I wouldn’t know.” He took her hand and placed it on his chest. “I saw no one but you, Eva.”
They fell silent, but the roaring of their suppressed passions seemed to vibrate through the room. The air was suddenly charged with the need to ease this insistent ache. To satisfy the base desire that kept him awake last night.
“I swore I wouldn’t kiss you again.” And yet he had thought of little else.
She shuffled closer. “Some promises are made to be broken.”
“Things may progress beyond a kiss.”
“I fear I might die if you don’t touch me, Mr Ashwood.”
“Noah,” he corrected as he slipped his arm around her waist and drew her close. “I’m of a mind to satisfy your cravings. To pander to your whims.”
“I’m of a mind to let you.”
He drew the backs of his fingers gently across her cheek, across skin pale as porcelain, soft as silk. “Then I’m going to kiss you, Eva.”
Her nod was the only signal he needed to lower his head and claim her mouth. He intended to take his time, to teach her to express her desire, to awaken her passions, tease a deeper reaction, a slow and gentle caressing of tongues.
God help him.
It took every effort not to devour her senseless. It might have been easier had she not clutched the lapels of his coat, ready to rip it off his back. Easier, had her need not been evident in the rocking of her hips, had she not released a throaty hum.
Indeed, as their mouths moved together in a sensual dance, it became evident neither had control over their desires. What should have been a chaste, experimental kiss turned into something so damn hot he burned to shove her skirts to her waist and thrust home.
Hell!
The temperature in the room soared when she slipped her tongue into his mouth. Damn, it was so warm and sweet, so bloody seductive. He could taste a hint of brandy. The contradiction of innocence and the independent streak he loved sent blood rushing to his cock.
He was so damn hard.
So damn desperate.
The need to consummate their union threatened to consume him. Him! A master of control and level-headedness! Except when he was with her. With her, he could be himself, could let down the barriers. He might have laughed had he not been obsess
ed with making love to her mouth.
Eva tore her lips from his to catch her breath. “Oh, it is so hot in here. Perhaps we should move away from the fire.”
He might have suggested they remove their clothes, but he didn’t want to frighten her, didn’t want to press her too hard. Indeed, he had to temper his inner flames before they overwhelmed him.
He knew lust, but not this all-consuming passion.
“Perhaps I should escort you home,” he said, his erection jerking in protest, though he knew where their amorous inclinations would lead. “Before I end up throwing you over my shoulder and taking you to bed.”
She laughed as she looked at him through inviting blue pools that made a man want to strip naked and plunge deep. “Things tend to get a little heated with us, do they not?”
“A little? Madam, the brigade would refuse to tackle the blaze.”
“Some say lust is the devil’s curse.” Her eyes turned all soft and dreamy, her smile wistful. “I say lust is heavenly.”
“So, you crave my body, Miss Dunn.”
She hit him playfully on the arm and giggled. Hell. She was so damn irresistible when happy. “You know I find your mind just as stimulating.”
Did she mean to use such a provocative word?
Did she mean to tease him to distraction?
“The feeling is mutual, hence the reason we’re likely to lose our heads.”
Lord, how he longed to see her lose control, longed to see her writhing in his lap, panting, shuddering as her climax ripped through her. He longed to see her hair wild and untamed, her lips moist and swollen, longed to have her clinging to him, urging him to thrust harder.
Blast. He had to cease with this mental torture.
“Let me escort you home,” he said. Bower would be keeping watch in Brownlow Street, would report directly to Lucius Daventry. “Your problems are far from over. It’s imperative we remain focused. There’s plenty of time to explore our growing attraction.”
And yet he couldn’t help but slide his hand into her hair, draw her closer, steal one last kiss.
A sweet hum left her lips when they parted. “Lust is like an addiction.”
“More a delightful obsession,” he said, though he suspected their feelings were more complicated than a hunger for physical release.
He collected her glove from the floor and watched her slip her fingers inside. The fact he found the action erotic came as no surprise. Indeed, the fact he didn’t give a damn what Lucius Daventry thought was telling, too.
Once inside the dark confines of his carriage, his thoughts turned to seduction, to easing desire’s deep ache. Anyone would think he was a boy of fifteen, not a mature man who should have a handle on his passions.
“I know you’ve been preoccupied of late,” he said, attempting to focus on something other than the alluring smell of roses, “but if you could arrange for your footman to deliver the documents you mentioned, that would be helpful.” Besides, he had to get his mind back on the case.
The lady sat forward and frowned. “But Henry brought them to you this morning. I gave him samples of Howard’s and Mr Hemming’s writing along with the blackmail note. He assured me he handed them to you in person. Indeed, I meant to mention it before our … our interlude.”
Such alarming news forced him to push memories of their kiss aside. “If Henry came to Hart Street this morning, he did not hand the documents to me.” And Mrs Gunning would have mentioned taking receipt of important information.
“Oh.” She sat back. “That is odd. Henry was adamant.”
It seemed the lady was surrounded by deceitful scamps.
“Is this where you tell me Henry is a good person?”
She shrugged. “I’ve had no cause to doubt his word before.”
No, because when her brother was too busy gambling away his inheritance, he had no reason to corrupt her staff.
“Perhaps your brother had other reasons for wanting Henry as his valet. Perhaps they had an arrangement, colluded together to extort money. Why else would the servant tell such a blatant lie?”
That said, they had worked for Mr Becker. When one’s master indulged his cravings for wine and women, the servants were prone to lapses of morality, too.
A weary sigh escaped her. “The staff have been acting strangely. They’re more attentive. I assumed it had something to do with Howard taking the money, and their guilt over the intruder entering the house while they enjoyed supper.”
Guilt undoubtedly formed the basis of their actions. “Then let us deal with the matter now. Tonight.” He didn’t like leaving her alone with servants who caused mischief. “Let me challenge Henry’s account.”
Miss Dunn fell silent before saying with some determination, “You may join me inside, Mr Ashwood, but I will be the one to challenge Henry’s account.”
Noah was unused to letting someone else take control. But he sensed her frustration, knew she had a point to prove.
“If that is what you want,” he said, his tone conveying confidence in her ability.
“And I must ask that you do not intervene or overrule me.”
“Madam, I shall be as quiet as a mouse.” He didn’t need to speak to be intimidating.
The carriage turned into Brownlow Street and rumbled to a halt outside Number 11. Noah became aware of Bower’s presence long before he opened the carriage door and vaulted to the pavement.
Indeed, he glanced at the hulking figure sitting atop the box of a carriage parked further down from the hospital. Bower recognised him and tipped his hat, as did his companion. Daventry would hear about the late-night visit and make obvious assumptions.
But Lucius Daventry could go to hell.
Noah would help Miss Dunn with her problems and woe betide anyone who tried to stop him.
Chapter 11
There was a fundamental difference between men and women, Eva noted as she escorted Noah Ashwood into the drawing room and told him to help himself to a drink, though she only had port.
Indeed, having asked Bardsley to summon Henry from his room, she returned to find Mr Ashwood relaxing on the sofa like he hadn’t a care in the world. One wondered if the man might close his eyes and take a nap. He offered a smile and gestured to the glass of port on the side table, the drink he had poured for her.
Was his mind not consumed with thoughts of their passionate kiss? Was his body not burning to strip away their clothes and indulge their desires? No? Was he not alarmed, disturbed by Henry’s blatant lie? Apparently not.
“I didn’t know you were a connoisseur of port wine,” he said, raising his glass in salute.
“I’m not. Howard insists on the best. I cannot tell you how many times I’ve wanted to pull the stopper from the decanter and empty the contents over his head.”
Mr Ashwood laughed. “What, and waste an extremely good vintage?”
Eva laughed, too. She liked having him in her private space. It didn’t feel strange or awkward. Few men cared to hear a woman’s opinion. Noah Ashwood was different. He possessed the rare quality of being so remarkably masculine without the arrogance and the desperate need to take control.
She liked that.
She liked him—more than she should.
The memory of his fingers threading into her hair, the memory of his hot mouth moving so expertly, sent tingles to her toes. Oh, lust was a dangerous devil, indeed.
Thankfully, a knock on the door brought an end to her amorous musings, banished all notions of her raising her skirts and sitting astride Mr Ashwood’s solid thighs.
“Come,” she called, though her voice revealed something of her torment.
Henry entered. He had dressed in a hurry and appeared a little dishevelled. “You sent for me, ma’am.”
“Come in and close the door.”
From her sharp tone, the servant knew something was amiss. He did as she bade him and then waited, hands clasped behind his back, for instruction.
Eva glanced at Mr Ashwood, who settl
ed back into the plush cushions as if about to watch an entertaining drama at the playhouse.
“This morning I asked you to take important documents to Mr Ashwood’s office in Hart Street,” she said, focusing her attention on the footman.
“Yes, ma’am.” Henry’s pale complexion was a sure sign of his guilt.
“When I questioned you later, you explained that you handed the documents to him personally. That is what you said?”
The footman nodded and glanced at the gentleman lounging on the sofa.
“And yet you lied. You did not see Mr Ashwood this morning. And so I must conclude one of two things. Either you thought the letters had value and so kept them, or—”
“No, ma’am. As God is my witness, I didn’t steal the letters.” A green vein in Henry’s temple bulged as he pleaded his case. “I didn’t take them, I swear. I can’t lose this position, ma’am.”
Eva’s foolish heart softened. She knew Henry supported an ailing mother, and three siblings who still lived at home. But perhaps her compassionate nature was the cause of her mounting problems.
“It’s either that,” she continued, forcing an air of authority into her tone, “or someone prevented you from taking the documents to Mr Ashwood.”
Indeed, perhaps Henry knew the note would lead Mr Ashwood to the blackmailer. Perhaps Howard was to blame, and he controlled matters from the shadows. She would kill the coward herself if that proved the case.
“So, which is it, Henry?” Eva pressed. “Did you steal the documents? Did someone else force you to part with crucial evidence? My brother was desperate to have you serve as his valet. Perhaps that’s where your loyalty lies.”
“No, ma’am. Mr Dunn wanted me for his valet so I could run his errands. I took money to a place in Rosemary Lane. A terrible place full of cutthroats and vicious thugs.”
“The Compass Inn,” Mr Ashwood offered from his seat. “You gave money to the Turners? How much?”
“Three hundred pounds, sir, though Mr Turner said he’d cut off my b—” Henry swallowed and took a quick breath. “Mr Turner will do me an injury if I don’t return with the full amount.”
