by Rebecca King
“I am bored,” she realised suddenly. “I am bored of struggling through my life.”
Or was, until she turned into the end of her road and spied a new, unfamiliar carriage parked right outside of her front gate.
It stood, hunch-backed, large and black, like a hungry panther waiting to strike. Charity suspected that if she ventured too close it was going to gobble her up. It was such an unusual sight that she found herself staring at it. Her heart began to pound with nerves, especially when she drew closer to the black beast and was able to study the dark garbed, motionless coachman sitting atop it. He was so incredibly tall she had to tip her head right back to be able to see him.
Suddenly, he turned his head and looked straight at her. She gasped and instinctively stepped back. When their gazes met, he touched the brim of his cap briskly but with no welcoming warmth in his eye. The suddenness of his movement was so unexpected that Charity quickly averted her gaze. It was only then that she realised how rude she had just been. Reluctantly, she met his gaze long enough to nod an equally brisk greeting at him before she turned away.
“Hello,” he said suddenly.
Charity stopped and reluctantly turned to face him again.
“Hello,” she replied warily.
She placed one hand on the gate and watched the carriage door closest to her open. Two men climbed effortlessly out of the darkened depths of the sombre-looking vehicle. There could be little doubt they were both wealthy men, but what they could want with her was beyond her, and it was her they apparently wanted to meet.
“Can I help you?” she asked when they had closed the carriage door and turned to face her.
Standing side-by-side as they were they presented a bold display of masculinity that was enough to make her take a wary step away from them. Charity knew they were trouble. Behind her, her hand fumbled with the latch on the gate. She heaved a sigh of relief when it swung silently open and she was able to take a couple more steps backward, onto the path to her front door.
“We would like a quiet word with you, miss,” one of the men announced.
Charity’s gaze flew to his. She gasped when a strange flicker of something alarming slammed into her. Whatever it was stole her breath and left her unable to register anything more than he had the most startling blue eyes she had ever seen. They seemed to be reaching into the depths of her soul such was the lure of his penetrating stare. Charity struggled to drag her gaze away, even though she was painfully aware of the awkward silence that had settled over them.
“M-me?” she stammered only to mentally wince when she felt her cheeks heat with a discomfiture that was uncharacteristic of her. Charity had no idea what to think other than she had never, in all her years, been in the presence of such overwhelmingly powerful men like these. Who were they? What did they want with her? Where were they from?
Charity wasn’t sure what to do. Should she talk to them? Dare she?
“May we come inside?” the tallest of the men asked.
Charity studied him. There was something about this man that was disturbing. She knew instinctively that he was dangerous; both men were really. But, while the blue eyes on the other man were mesmerising, his associate was considerably more worrying, not least because he was so darned attractive. Charity struggled not to stare at the bladed jaw, liberally adorned with a day’s worth of stubble, which accentuated his high cheekbones above which sat emerald green eyes that were staring at her just as intently as she was studying him.
“What for?” she forced herself to ask.
The man held out a small card. Charity forced herself to tear her gaze away from the handsome stranger long enough to accept it.
“The War Office?” she frowned when she read it. “What could you want with me?”
“We are here on official business, miss,” the tallest man with the green eyes declared with a formal bow. “My name is Angus Bentonville, miss, and this here is Mr Aaron Winters. The coachman up there is Mr Jasper Carrington. He will remain out here, but if Mr Winters and I could come inside, there is something we need to discuss with you.”
“Inside?” Charity whispered. “My house?”
Angus nodded, aware that this young woman was incredibly nervous of them.
“It’s a private matter, miss,” he added persuasively.
Angus suspected that if he stepped forward and shouted ‘boo’ she would either collapse into a heap on the floor or disappear into the house and would refuse to come back out again. He slid a look at Aaron who smiled encouragingly at her.
“We don’t mean you any harm, miss,” Angus assured her. “We just need a quiet word, preferably not out on the street.”
Charity read the card in her hand again.
“You had better come in,” she murmured. She was too curious to refuse.
Charity began to walk up the path to her front door. When she had the distinct feeling she was being watched, Charity glanced at her neighbour’s house and groaned when she saw her overly curious neighbour, Mrs Vernon, openly peering at them. To avoid the old woman coming out to question her, or her unexpected guests, Charity hurried into the house.
“Are all of your neighbours like that?” Angus asked as he came to stand behind her in the small porch.
“I am afraid so,” Charity sighed ruefully.
Angus lifted his brows. He wasn’t at all sure if it was a good thing or not that her neighbours were so nosy. While their quarry would be spotted behaving unusually, so would the Star Elite if they used Charity’s house as they had intended. Unfortunately, failure was not an option. They had to use Charity’s home, for a few weeks at least, because the property they needed to observe was directly across the road.
As he followed the young woman to the house, Angus slid a look at Jasper who was still seated on the carriage. Jasper rolled his eyes and tugged the collar of his cloak up, clearly expecting to be a while. Angus grinned at him because he knew Jasper would study their target’s home across the road while Angus and Aaron were speaking with Miss Charity Kemble but would be thoroughly cold and miserable.
“Hurry up,” Jasper mouthed.
Angus grinned and sauntered into the house. He had to remind himself that he was a professional man who had a job to do as he stepped into the hallway and found his gaze resting comfortably on the delightfully curved derriere of the homeowner. To his disbelief, Charity sashayed into the hallway of her frigidly cold house, apparently not even aware of the fog of breath that puffed out before her.
“How long have you lived here, miss?” he asked as he stood back to allow Aaron into the narrow hallway.
The men shared a worried look at just how cold the house was.
Charity removed her sodden shawl from her chilled shoulders and struggled to quell her shivers.
“I have lived here all my life,” she replied carefully. “Why? I know your card says you are from the War Office, but what could you possibly need me for? I haven’t done anything wrong, have I?”
Angus struggled to keep his eyes on her face. It was difficult, though, given how damned transparent her dress had become, and how evidently cold her body was. When his gaze instinctively fell, and he realised just what was on display, he stepped sideways, partly to obscure Aaron’s view of the temptation she put before them, and partly to ease his own discomfort.
“Maybe you would like to get into some dry clothing before you freeze to death,” he suggested carefully, keeping his voice, and gaze, neutral. “I don’t want to seem presumptuous, but if you don’t mind, I will light a fire while you change. Then we can all sit down, and I can tell you why we are here.”
Surprised, but grateful for the prospect of getting some warmth back into her chilled flesh, Charity nodded, not least because the damp fabric clinging so desperately to her skin was making her decidedly uncomfortable.
“I won’t be a minute,” she murmured. “Go on through to the sitting room. I will just quickly change and will then put a pot on to boil.”
“I can do that,�
� Aaron offered with a cheery grin. He pointed one long finger at Angus. “He can do the fire.”
Charity’s brows lifted when the man named Angus rolled his eyes and glared mockingly at his associate. “I just said I would,” he muttered.
Charity gasped and looked at Aaron who smirked but promptly disappeared into the kitchen. Within seconds, like a silent army, the men had set to work, leaving a somewhat nonplussed Charity to stare after them for a moment or two before she realised that while she was staring into empty space, they were doing the jobs she should be doing.
Curiosity made her race up the stairs and yank out a dry set of clothing. The need to have some of her questions answered had her chasing back down the stairs minutes later, considerably drier and a little warmer. She was breathless by the time she reached the sitting room.
True to their word, the fire was lit, and she suspected a pot of water was warming in the kitchen. More importantly, the men were waiting in the sitting room for her to join them, so they could tell her why they were there.
CHAPTER TWO
“Thank you,” Charity murmured, with a wave to the hearth as she entered the sitting room. Her cold and unwelcoming house now glowed from the numerous candles the men had lit, and the luxurious warmth that emanated from the roaring flames. “It’s delightful.”
“Pleasure,” Angus replied with a smile, not least because the warmth made him more comfortable as well.
Instinctively, his gaze slid over her in a way that made his masculine appreciation evident to Aaron, who coughed discretely and waved a hand toward the chairs.
“Shall we sit?” he suggested.
“Please do,” Charity murmured.
She mentally berated herself for being such a nincompoop and not remembering they were waiting for her to sit. Gracefully, she perched on the edge of a seat and waved a hand around the room.
Angus studied Charity once they were all seated. She looked decidedly delicate; so much so he had to wonder, not for the first time, if it really was a good idea the Star Elite used her house. He studied the mousy brown hair which tried but failed to cling desperately to the haphazardly coiled top-knot she had tried to fasten on the top of her head. It was unkempt to say the very least, mostly because it was still dripping with rainwater. Together with her rosy cheeks, and pink-tinged nose, she looked bedraggled, but temptingly so.
She also looked young – terribly young.
“Do you live here alone?” Angus asked. His brows knitted into a dark frown as he glanced around the room. It was difficult to tell from the adornments littering the place. They were an intriguing mix of feminine and masculine, which hinted that someone else lived in the property.
“Why?” Charity winced. Her voice trembled when she spoke, but she couldn’t decide if it was because of nerves or cold.
Whenever this man talked he made shivers run down her spine. They weren’t because she was afraid. These shivers weren’t even because she was cold. They were purely personal and accompanied the warmth that began to fill her deep within. Warmth, and awareness.
Good Lord, he makes me feel like this, she mused in astonishment.
“If someone else lives here, maybe we should wait for them to join us, then we can tell you both together?” Aaron suggested when she didn’t answer.
Damn, Charity mentally swore when she realised Angus had asked her something, but she had not been listening.
Again, Charity found her gaze straying to the man with the green eyes.
Keep your mind on the job at hand, a dark voice warned Angus when he found her studying him far too closely than was polite. He struggled to contain the urge to squirm such was the intensity of her regard and the affect it had on him.
“Who are you really?” she murmured eventually. “I know your card says you work for the War Office, but what could you possibly want with me?”
Angus sighed and glanced at Aaron, who was looking out of the window with a thoughtful frown on his face. All that was visible was the large carriage they had used to journey here. It now blocked them from seeing anything of the houses lining the opposite side of the road, but more importantly, prevented anybody from seeing them.
“Look, I am not sure if you read the broadsheets, or are aware of what has been going on around the county of late,” Aaron began.
“What kind of things?” Charity asked with a frown.
She rubbed her hands together only partly to try to encourage some warmth back into them. Mostly, it was to give herself something to do with them. She had no qualms admitting that she found the presence of these powerful men in her home most disconcerting.
Angus shared a look with Aaron before he leaned toward the young woman.
Charity leaned warily away from him.
Angus froze and willed himself to relax.
“We are friendly, I can assure you,” he offered gently.
Charity nodded but didn’t relax because it rather felt as though he was trying to avoid answering her question.
“You were saying?” she prompted.
Angus gave himself a mental shake. “Yes. I was saying that over the last few weeks there has been a spate of kidnappings in the area.”
“Oh, but I thought the kidnapper had been found,” Charity protested.
“We did apprehend someone,” Aaron warned.
“But then someone else has gone missing,” Angus added. “I am sorry to say that the latest kidnap victim has also vanished off the street without anybody noticing anything untoward. Unfortunately, the man we thought was responsible couldn’t have committed this kidnap because he was already behind bars.”
“It is someone else?” Charity shivered. “But it cannot be somebody from here. Everybody is very friendly, I can assure you.”
“Not as friendly as you think.” Angus sighed when her eyes widened in alarm.
“Look, we cannot tell you too much about our ongoing investigation, but we have reason to believe that the man who lives in the house directly opposite here is involved. I warn you now not to approach him or engage him in conversation,” Aaron informed her.
“The man across the street?” For some reason, Charity found herself pointing out of the window.
Aaron leaned toward her and gently lowered her arm, just in case anybody did pass the house and happened to look inside Charity’s sitting room.
“Yes, but you are not to behave any differently toward him,” Aaron warned. While he spoke he carefully released his hold on the young woman. It was alarming to feel just how cold she was.
“We think he is dangerous,” Angus warned.
“Are you certain it is him? What does this have to do with me?” Charity gulped when she heard the plaintive wail in her voice. “I can assure you that I have nothing to do with the kidnaps.”
“We know,” Aaron reassured her. “We are not here because we suspect you of anything. We are here because we need your help.”
“My help?” Charity murmured, not sure if she liked the sound of that or not.
“His name is Mr Lawrence, isn’t it?” Aaron asked suddenly.
Charity’s brows lifted. “Yes, it is. But he cannot be the kidnapper. I don’t believe it.”
“I can assure you that we hardly ever make mistakes.” Angus pursed his lips as if daring her to argue.
“Well, you must have made a mistake. Mr Lawrence would never hurt a fly. He is so old he can barely stand up let alone drag someone with him. Have you ever met him, or even seen him?” Charity blustered. She shook her head and straightened her skirts. “No, I can assure you that you must have the wrong man. Mr Lawrence is not capable of hurting anybody. It is preposterous to even suggest it.”
“I am afraid that he is still a suspect.” Angus shared a look with Aaron. He knew he wasn’t persuading her to be wary of the suspect.
Why was she so devoutly defending the man?
“Are we talking about the same person?” Aaron asked suddenly. “We are talking about the man who lives in number sevent
y-six, directly across the road from here.”
“Yes, that’s Mr Lawrence’s house,” Charity replied, her voice ripe with certainty.
“Who helps him?”
“His cousin, usually. Most of the time Mr Lawrence is alone. He is so stubborn he refuses to let others do anything for him. He can get about, but it is a challenge. It takes him so long to even go into the village that he rarely bothers anymore. He cannot be responsible. If you don’t believe me, wait until you see him. He will be around tomorrow morning. Watch him. Then you will understand how foolish it is to consider him capable of doing anything more than surviving.”
Angus found it difficult not to stare at the way Charity’s expressive features changed when she spoke with passion about something. In this case, the aged, and seemingly innocent, Mr Lawrence. Charity’s cheeks were fiery with indignation, and her warm grey eyes sparkled such was the outrage that brought her features alive. Gone was the delicate creature he had just met. In her place was someone whom Angus suspected would challenge him on every level and leave him wanting if he allowed her too close. It was something he had never experienced before.
Angus managed to stop staring at her for approximately two minutes. Then his wayward self-control, which was usually on a very tight leash, vanished completely. As though compelled by some invisible hand, Angus’s gaze was drawn to Charity’s feet, and the delicate toes of her boots poking out from beneath the soft folds of her dress. Once there, it slid gently up to the protrusions that were her knees before stopping to rest on the gentle curve of her nipped in waist. Angus marvelled at whether he would be able to encompass it with his hands as he boldly surveyed the delicate rosebuds on the bodice of her dress. At her décolletage, his gaze rested once more but only long enough to acknowledge her rounded curves with masculine appreciation. Slowly and gently, his gaze moved upward, to the very feminine sweep of delicate jawline and the compelling beauty of her thickly lashed grey eyes.
Damn, I am in trouble, Angus mused wryly.
He was even more dumbfounded by the fact that each time he tried to focus on the conversation she was having with Aaron, his gaze fell to her lips. He was lost to everything but how hypnotic they were when they moved. From her position, bathed in the heavenly golden glow of the firelight, those delicate rosebud lips glistened teasingly each time they were bathed by the fleeting touch of her tongue.
