Nowhere Near Respectable

by Mary J. Putney

  “I am not a gentleman,” he said with a laugh. “In fact, I’m nowhere near respectable, which makes life easier than if I was a gentleman.”

  Having spent her life surrounded by highly honorable gentlemen, Kiri was fascinated to meet a man so cheerfully dishonorable. “How come Howard didn’t notice that you’d marked the cards when you pulled that deck out?”

  “Because that deck wasn’t marked. It was new, just as I said. But the matching deck that I palmed had marked cards. After I won and Howard became difficult, I kicked over the kettle and one of the lanterns to confuse the situation enough for us to escape.”

  She couldn’t quite suppress her choke of laughter. “I was glad you won, because I knew you’d be easier to escape from than a gang of smugglers.”

  “In the morning the storm should have passed and I’ll put you on the road to Dover. You can escape me then.” He pulled a flask from another internal pocket. “Have some brandy. It will help warm you up.”

  The flask was warm from Mackenzie’s body. Kiri sipped cautiously and discovered that it contained a powerful but smooth French cognac. “The brandy you buy from the smugglers is first-class.”

  “Nothing but the best for my customers.” He reached into another inside pocket and pulled out an irregularly shaped packet wrapped in cloth. “If you’re hungry, here’s some cheese to test your knife on.”

  This time she didn’t even try to stop herself from smiling. “You’ve pulled out money, cards, drink, and now food. How many pockets does that greatcoat have?”

  “Many.” He produced two bread rolls from inside his coat, then pulled two thin pieces of kindling from the woodpile. “I’m going to toast my cheese. Care to join me?”

  Hot food. Realizing she was ravenous, she sliced the cheese into several chunks and handed half to him. “I’ll cut the bread rolls so they can be toasted as well.”

  “Excellent thought.” He passed the rolls so she could slice them. “That’s a handsome knife. You didn’t have time to pull it out when you were captured?”

  “I didn’t have it then.” She held the knife on her palm so he could see it more clearly. “I took this from a smuggler who tried to stab me when I was escaping.”

  Mackenzie looked appalled. “I’m not sure which is worse—knowing you could have been stabbed, or knowing that you might have stabbed me. The mere thought of my blood being spilled makes me feel faint.”

  She laughed. “So far, I’m glad I didn’t stab you.”

  Half her roll was toasted, so she removed the bread and stuck the cheese on the sharp end of the stick. When the pale lump of cheddar began to melt and smell delicious, she smeared it onto her toasted bread and took a bite.

  The tangy bite of the melted cheese contrasted exquisitely with the crisp toast in a symphony of texture and flavor. She gave a soft moan of pleasure. “It’s ambrosia! ”

  He took a bite of his own toasted bread and cheese, savoring it. “Nectar of the gods indeed. Nothing like cold, rain, hunger, and fear for one’s life to make even the simplest of meals taste divine.”

  “I’m definitely glad I didn’t knife you,” Kiri decided. “If I’d done that, I wouldn’t have had food, drink, and shelter.”

  “I have my uses.” He started toasting his other piece of bread. “How did a very competent young lady like you fall into the smugglers’ hands?”

  She sighed, remembering what had brought her to the wrong place at the wrong time. “I was visiting in the country and by accident overheard something that was—very distressing. I left for Dover immediately with the intention of catching a coach home from there. But I blundered into the smugglers moving their goods and they feared I’d give them away. If Chieftain and I had had running room, I could have escaped, but we didn’t. A bird net was thrown over me before I could get away.”

  “Bad luck,” he said sympathetically. “You borrowed the horse to ride to Dover?”

  “A stickler might say I stole it,” she admitted. “But I was so furious! If I’d stayed, I might have hurt someone. So I took Chieftain. I’ll send him back from Dover.”

  “I have no trouble believing you might damage someone,” he said with a lazy, admiring smile that did strange things to her insides. “But if you hadn’t overheard that conversation, I wouldn’t have met you. I’m selfish enough to be glad our paths crossed.”

  “So am I, since I might not have escaped without your help.”

  “How did you break the manacle? Was it rusted through?”

  “There was some rust.” She held up her right hand and the diamonds flashed in the firelight. “I also used the stones in this ring to scrape the metal until I could break it.”

  “You really are the most amazing female,” he said with warm admiration.

  She dropped her gaze, feeling shy. “I’ll see you’re paid back after I return to London.”

  His lips curved in a smile. “I can think of another payment that would do.”

  Her hand tensed on her knife. If he thought that she would lie with him . . . !

  “Not what you’re thinking, my warrior maiden,” he said with a grin. “But I would certainly enjoy a kiss.”

  Chapter 5

  Carrie Ford did not react to his request with the outrage of a virgin, nor with the sensual assessment of an experienced woman. Instead, her eyes narrowed like a cat’s and she studied him as if he was an intriguing artifact of uncertain origin. “A kiss might be interesting.” She stabbed the knife down through the hay beside her. “But only one.”

  “Then I shall try to make it a good one.” He slid over until they were sitting side by side, his thigh pressing against hers.

  He cupped her cheek with one hand. “Your eyes are the most remarkable shade of green,” he murmured, thinking it was only right that they were as unique as the rest of her. “Like the finest emeralds.”

  Her brows arched in surprise. “And your eyes are two different colors. Brown and a misty blue-gray. How very odd.”

  “It has been said that my eyes are a good expression of my generally odd self,” he said, thinking it was pure pleasure to study Carrie at close range.

  When he first saw her, she’d been gagged and furious, but now that she was relaxed, she was a striking beauty. Her shining dark hair had come loose to fall over her shoulders in extravagant waves. He brushed her hair back and caught a whiff of her scent. “Lilacs and spice,” he said. “Feminine but with bite.”

  She laughed. “You understand perfume.”

  “Perfume is easier to understand than women.” Certainly he wanted to understand this woman, whose fine features had a faintly exotic cast. His fingers drifted down her throat, butterfly light. Her exquisite complexion had the warmth of Devonshire cream rather than the pale milk of a fashionable blonde. “You look entirely edible.”

  “Perhaps you need more bread and cheese.” Her tone was demure, but her green eyes sparked with amusement.

  He touched his lips to hers, prepared to savor gently. She leaned into the kiss with innocent interest. Then her lips opened under his. Pure fire blazed between them. The sensual shock raced through every vein, raw and urgent.

  He drew her closer until her breasts were pressed into his chest. Her hands came to rest on his waist, her fingernails biting through his coat like tiger claws.

  “Dear God, Carrie,” he said hoarsely, his hands kneading her back. “You are even more extraordinary than I realized.”

  She gulped for breath, her lips parted in irresistible invitation. “You are definitely to be preferred to Howard.”

  “I should hope so!” He kissed her again, and she did not point out that he’d already had his kiss. His pulse was pounding and so was hers. Lilacs and spice and the sweet, fresh scent of crushed hay.

  He realized that they were lying on their sides in the hay, his knee between hers and his hand on her breast. Their hips were pulsing together as if trying to dissolve the fabric that separated them so they could be fully joined. “This isn’t wise,” she whi
spered in a voice balanced between desire and doubt.

  “You are entirely right.” Yet he didn’t want to stop. Hoping she had more sense than he did, he said hoarsely, “Tell me to stop, Carrie. Or hit me. Not too hard, but hard enough to restore some common sense.”

  “Actually, my name is Kiri, not Carrie,” she said with a choke of laughter. “I didn’t want the smugglers to know my real identity.”

  “No matter,” he said distractedly. “You are beautiful under any name. . . .”

  Wait. Kiri.

  He’d only heard that name once. He gasped and released her as if she were a burning coal. “My God—Kiri! You must be Lady Kiri Lawford. Ashton’s sister.” Damnation, he should have guessed when he saw her green eyes. She and her brother looked very alike.

  “You know my brother?” she said, pleased, as she pulled his head down again.

  For dizzy moments he forgot why he should not be doing this. It took sharp nails on the back of his neck to bring him back to his senses.

  Summoning all his will, he rolled onto his back, staring up at the beams as he gasped for breath. “If I touch you again, just stick the knife into me. It will be quicker than waiting till Ashton breaks me into very small pieces.”

  She pushed herself up on one elbow and stared down at him. “What on earth are you talking about? Adam is the best and kindest of brothers.”

  “He is also one of the most dangerous men in England if he’s offended,” Mac said gloomily. “And he would be very offended indeed if he knew I was halfway to seducing his sister in a haystack.”

  “He is indeed very skilled at bare-hands fighting,” she agreed. “But I have not known him to be easily offended. And this is not seduction, but just very fine kissing. Are we not allowed to celebrate a narrow escape?”

  “We are not!” Mac sat up, thinking she was more innocent than he’d realized if she didn’t recognize mutual seduction. A few minutes more and all thoughts of wisdom would have been gone beyond recall. “We have to leave now. The rain has slowed.”

  Kiri was looking at him as if he’d run mad. “You and my brother are enemies?”

  “No, but that doesn’t mean he would approve of me kissing you.” Much less anything more intimate than kissing. “I knew Ashton at school. He was a couple of years ahead of me.”

  “Ah, the Westerfield Academy, for young men of good breeding and bad behavior,” she said with amusement. “So you are a gentleman. Much more of one than the despicable man I actually considered marrying. I do not see the problem here.”

  He caught her gaze, trying to impress her with the fact that he was serious. “Most of the Westerfield students are indeed gentlemen. A fair number of them have exalted titles, like Ashton’s. But not me. I am the bastard son of an actress, I was cashiered from the army, and I own a gambling and dinner club. Your stepfather, General Stillwell, would horsewhip me on sight.”

  He rose and offered his hand to help her up. “If we leave now, we should be able to reach the Westerfield Academy in an hour or so.”

  “I thought you moved like an army man.” She frowned as she came to her feet. “It’s true the general would not like knowing you were cashiered. Why?”

  “It’s complicated.” Not only complicated, but a sordid tale he wouldn’t tell to a young woman who, despite her fire and courage, had led a fairly sheltered life.

  She brushed hay from her skirt. “Why do we need to go to Lady Agnes?”

  “To protect your reputation. You have high rank, Lady Kiri. There will always be people looking for ways to smear your name.”

  “Because of my mixed blood?” she asked bluntly.

  “Yes,” he replied, equally blunt. “You will always be held to a higher standard. There are many who disapprove of those who are different.” It was hard for him to imagine how anyone could disapprove of a female as remarkable and beautiful as Kiri Lawford, but he knew enough of the world to recognize that she would be a target for the jealous and the narrow-minded.

  Her mouth twisted. “I’ve noticed that disapproval.”

  He wondered what had caused that expression. “With luck, the world won’t learn you were kidnapped. But just in case, it will be best if you spend the rest of the night under the irreproachable protection of Lady Agnes.”

  “Lady Agnes has the soul of a rebel,” Kiri pointed out. “How will staying with her save my delicate reputation?”

  “She’s the daughter and sister of a duke and widely respected, so she is considered a charming eccentric, not a rebel.” He draped the cloak over Kiri’s shoulders. Lilacs and spice and woman. He drew a deep breath, then continued, “So yes, staying with her will shield you from possible consequences.”

  “Then why didn’t you take me to Westerfield Manor to begin with?”

  “It was an hour more riding on a wicked ugly night. Also, the fewer people who saw you, the better. Knowing who you are changes the situation.” He waved toward the door. “The rain has stopped, so another hour on horseback won’t be quite so unpleasant.”

  She pulled the hood over her dark hair. “I thought you looked familiar when I saw you in the cave. Have I met you in passing in my brother’s house?”

  He shook his head. “I’m not a part of what is called good society. But you would have met Lord Masterson, my half brother. There’s a strong resemblance between us.”

  “Of course! Will Masterson. He’s a lovely fellow.” Her gaze raked Mac. “Your personalities are very different.”

  He grinned. “That’s probably an insult, but you’re right. Will is sober, reliable, and honorable. Not at all like me.”

  “But you are both kind,” she said softly.

  “Will certainly is.” Mac ignored the disquieting compliment. “If not for his kindness, Lord only knows where I’d have ended up. Probably Newgate Prison.”

  “For cheating at cards?”

  “There are so many ways to end in Newgate.” He led her horse from its box stall and started to saddle it. “After my mother died, I could have been left in a parish workhouse, but her maid sent me to my father. Will took a fancy to me and wouldn’t let me be sent away. The Masterson heir needed a good education, but our father didn’t want the by-blow to accompany Will to Eton. Hence, Lady Agnes.”

  Kiri checked her saddle and cinch. “From what Lady Agnes’s other Lost Lords tell me, you were better off with her anyhow.”

  “Without question. And you’ll be better off with her, too.”

  Kiri made a face. “Honesty compels me to agree.”

  He grinned. “Comfort yourself with the knowledge that you’ll have a bed and even a hot bath if you want it.”

  As he saddled César, she said, “Tell me about your gambling and dinner club.”

  He hesitated. But since she knew his name, she’d have no trouble finding out about the club when she returned to London. “Damian’s, and I hope you’ve never heard of it. My club is no place for a young lady.”

  “Of course I’ve heard of it!” she exclaimed. “Damian’s is very fashionable. How can you be unrespectable if the prince regent patronizes your club?”

  “The prince is hardly a model of respectability.” Mac opened the door to the cool, windswept night. A quarter moon rode high in the sky, casting a silvery light over the fields. He turned to stamp out the fire. “Apart from that, I’m only one step above a servant. Not only illegitimate and cashiered, but I’m in trade.”

  “They say Damian’s has the best chef in London, and gentlemen can take ladies there to dine,” Kiri said as they led the horses out.

  “My chef is indeed extraordinary, but only very fast ladies enter my doors,” he said repressively. “A fair number of them aren’t even ladies.”

  “Your masquerades are famous.” She set a foot in his linked hands and swung into the saddle.

  For a brief, paralyzed moment all he could think of was lilac, spice, woman. The bloody female was dangerous.

  “Or infamous,” he said when his brain cleared.

 
; She looked down at him thoughtfully. “I see why you need the very finest illegal beverages. Where does the club’s name came from?”

  “My first name is Damian.” He closed the door to the barn and mounted César.

  She chuckled. “It’s true you don’t look like a George or a Robert. But Damian?”

  “Remember my mother was an actress. She had dramatic tastes.” He set his horse to a trot and headed for the Westerfield Academy. He needed to get far, far away from the dangerously delightful Lady Kiri Lawford.

  Chapter 6

  Kiri watched in disbelief as Mackenzie hurled a pebble at one of Westerfield Manor’s upper windows. “This is how one communicates with the most noble and respectable Lady Agnes Westerfield, who is supposed to save my reputation?”

  “Don’t forget that she is also eccentric and a schoolmistress. I am not the first to wake her this way.” He threw another pebble. “This is one of those occasions when it’s best not to rouse the whole household.”

  He was selecting a third pebble when the casement windows above swung open and a soft but penetrating voice said, “Which of my young rascals is this?”

  “Damian Mackenzie, Lady Agnes.” His voice was also pitched to avoid waking other sleepers. “I have a young lady whose reputation needs salvaging.”

  The headmistress’s voice was more amused than shocked. “If she’s with you, Mr. Mackenzie, her reputation is already shredded beyond repair. I’ll meet you at the door.”

  “This way.” As the windows closed, Mackenzie took Kiri’s arm and guided her toward a small side door near the back corner of the wing.

  Kiri wondered whether he took her arm because he guessed she was exhausted to the point of keeling over. In the spacious stables where they’d left their mounts, she’d been ready to grab a horse blanket and roll up in the hay.

  He’d been right not to head to the school earlier, though. It had been a hard ride even under a clear night sky. In the rain, it would have been abysmal.

  The door opened, revealing Lady Agnes holding a lamp. She was as tall as Kiri, with a floor-length scarlet robe and a thick braid falling over her shoulder. As her guests entered, she exclaimed, “Lady Kiri! How did you fall in with this rogue?”