The Impostors: Complete Collection

by Tanya Anne Crosby

  Chloe leaned close to whisper to the girl. “Emily, please, you must help me. You’re my only hope.”

  Emily gave her a troubled look.

  Chloe sensed the girl wished to help, but her loyalties obviously belonged elsewhere.

  “I’m hoping that… with all your…” she searched for a kinder word “…affiliations, you must know someone who knows how to reach him,” she reasoned.

  Emily twisted her lips. “I don’t know,” she said again, but Chloe suspected she knew much more than she was admitting. “But for you, Miss Chloe… I will try.”

  “That’s all I ask,” Chloe said, relenting. “Please, please tell him I have something he lost, and I wish to return it.”

  Emily’s eyes lit up. “I see, so you wish to help him?”

  Chloe nodded and withdrew a coin from her reticule as a gesture of thanks. She handed it to the girl. “If you only try to get that message to him, that is truly all I ask.” Then, to ease the girl’s conscience, she added, “If you cannot, I will not be upset.” But she knew, somehow, by the look in Emily’s eyes, that Hawk would, indeed, get her message.

  The carriage wheeled its way through nearly empty streets.

  Merrick hadn’t the first notion where he was going, only that he needed to be away from the manor to think. This town was hardly thriving, he realized. Nary a soul was anywhere to be found. For that matter, he hadn’t seen Chloe since they’d presented Hawk’s gift to Fiona.

  Of course, his mother hadn’t had the first inkling what to make of Chloe’s ring, but something in her expression had given Merrick the impression that she knew far more than she’d let on about Ian’s endeavors. She’d given Merrick a questioning glance, as though she’d expected him to supply the answer to the ring’s meaning. But Merrick had only given Fiona Chloe’s ring to divert Chloe’s suspicions. Now, he was almost glad that Chloe stole the real ring, because he may have just given away the goose if, indeed, his mother knew about Ian’s misadventures.

  Oh, what a tale we weave…

  Chloe, for her part, had been guiltily silent, unable to look at either his mother or at Merrick. She’d fled their presence the instant she was able.

  Last night had been the most difficult thing he’d ever had to do… walk away when he’d wanted nothing more than to make Chloe his own.

  She was beginning to occupy his every waking thought. He couldn’t think straight anymore. Even his purpose at Glen Abbey had somehow become skewed.

  As he passed the inn, a skinny young girl with ratty hair beckoned to him. The look on her face had been almost desperate, though she was as discreet as possible in her summons. She disappeared into the tavern.

  Curious, Merrick rapped upon the carriage roof and bade the driver pull over.

  One glance into the smoky bar gave him the impression that every male in town was here with his whiskey and a smoke. He took a seat at a table and the ratty-haired girl came quickly to serve him. “The usual, my lord?” she asked coyly.

  Merrick raised his brows.

  Damnation, there mustn’t be much to choose from in this terminally ill town. That, or, Ian wasn’t too picky about the company he’d kept. He nodded at the girl and prayed she was speaking of serving something other than herself.

  She left him at once, returning momentarily with a stout glass of whiskey. The stinging scent of it cleared his nostrils even from where it sat upon the table. Bloody hell, his brother must have a stomach made of steel. He withdrew payment for the girl, and she smiled as she bent to quickly whisper something into his ear.

  Merrick arched a brow when she was through speaking. “Really?” he asked, surprised.

  The girl nodded.

  He grinned and crooked a finger at her, luring her closer. “Tell her this for me…”

  Chapter 14

  Chloe was quite pleased with the way her plan was proceeding. Obviously she’d been right about Emily all along. The girl quickly got word to Hawk. The very next day she was to meet him in the grove in the very spot where he’d robbed her carriage, but she was to come alone, no carriage, no driver.

  She realized it wasn’t right to borrow things without asking, but she couldn’t very well tell Lady Fiona what she intended. Choosing a mild-mannered mare, one that was older, rarely ridden and wouldn’t likely be missed, she started out of the stables, but not before noting that Lord Lindale’s bay was missing from its stall. However, that meant little for a man who was known to carouse the streets by night; he was rarely home at this hour.

  Well, it was his life, she told herself. She wasn’t any part of it—nor would she ever be. He’d used her for a purpose and then he’d cast her away when she was no longer useful. He’d kissed her, then thoroughly dismissed her.

  But it was a good thing she wasn’t some silly miss who aspired only to become someone’s wife. She was too strong to be ruled by a husband—not that Lord Lindale wanted anything more than a dalliance.

  Nor did it matter.

  She wasn’t in love with him.

  In fact, she didn’t even like him…

  Not much.

  The problem was—she frowned—she was no longer certain who he was or what he stood for. He’d managed to thoroughly confuse her.

  The only person Chloe had ever truly been close to was her father and now he was gone. She’d loved her mother dearly, but her mother died when she was only eleven. Chloe had no one left in her life, except acquaintances, and that was perfectly fine with her. If one never allowed oneself to get close to someone, one couldn’t be hurt once they were gone.

  She didn’t need anyone to make her happy. Her greatest joy in life was the good she could do for others. And to that end, there was no room in her life for a husband who would enslave her to his every wish. Her father always allowed her free rein. He had treated her more as a friend than a daughter. He had joyfully shared his vast wealth of knowledge, completely disregarding her gender. He had acknowledged her mind and her abilities, and for that, she was fortunate, indeed.

  It was a good thing she never allowed her heart to falter.

  The night was dark and once again presented a lowering fog, but Chloe was undaunted. She was more determined than ever to discover the truth about Hawk.

  Upon reaching the grove, she tethered the horse and chose a tree limb to hang the kerchief that held the ring. She wasn’t foolish enough to meet Hawk with the ring on her person, lest he decide to rob her yet again and keep the necklace and the ring, as well, but she fully intended to return it if he produced Fiona’s necklace. To that end, she’d come early to prepare. After having secured the ring in a place where it wasn’t visible, she hurried toward the road to wait, carrying a decoy kerchief in her hand.

  It wasn’t until she reached the road that Chloe began to feel a sense of unease. The night seemed to grow darker by the instant. And then, suddenly, he appeared as Emily had said he would, like the wind at her back. Though she hadn’t heard him approach, he tapped her upon the shoulder.

  Startled, Chloe spun to face him, her heart leaping into her throat. He’d come alone, as well. His men were either hiding in the woods nearby, or they hadn’t accompanied him at all. Good. In truth, she could only deal with one thief at a time.

  He eyed the kerchief in her hand.

  Chloe smirked ever so slightly. She’d tethered the horse in a spot not far from the road, where he couldn’t possibly have spied her hiding the ring. “It isn’t polite to spy upon a lady,” she admonished in an attempt to cover her fear.

  “And so we meet again,” he said, and bowed politely, ignoring her rebuke.

  Chloe didn’t return the courtesy.

  She’d come to barter, not to trade pleasantries.

  “I fully expected you to come with the constable,” he confessed, and he cast a glance about to make certain they were, indeed, alone. He added, “My thanks to you for sparing me the task of having to dispose of the gentleman.”

  Chloe eyed him dubiously. Surely he hadn’t meant that
he would murder the constable? Still, she took a step backward. “Enough banter,” she snapped with far more mettle than she felt. “This is not a tea party.”

  “Very well.” He glanced once more at the kerchief. “So I’m told you’ve something you wish to return to me?”

  Chloe straightened, summoning her nerve, remembering the tales Emily told of the men he’d supposedly killed.

  She shuddered and said a silent prayer that it was, in fact, Lord Lindale standing before her. If not, what might he do if he thought she’d crossed him? Her heart thumped like a hammer against her ribs. She longed to rip off his mask and expose him at last. She took a fortifying breath, lifting her chin defiantly, gathering her courage. “I would like to propose a trade,” she said.

  “A trade, madame?”

  Chloe studied him. Indeed, he was the very same height as Lord Lindale and his voice seemed similar, as well—perhaps a wee bit deeper. She wished she could better see his eyes…and his mouth… “Indeed,” she said, wavering in her convictions. “A trade.”

  “Let me guess,” he said somewhat sardonically. “The ring for the necklace?”

  Chloe nodded. “And something more.”

  “Something more?” he echoed, his tone sounding amused. He took a small step toward her.

  Chloe nodded a little uncertainly.

  * * *

  Beautiful little vixen.

  Merrick knew she was wary of him; he could see it in her gaze. And yet she stood there before him, making demands most men wouldn’t dare impose.

  She was brave coming here… alone.

  “And what trade might this be?” he asked, sounding casual, feeling anything but. His body was taut, and his loins were afire merely at the sight of her.

  She held out the bundle in her hand, teasing him with its presence. He hated to have to tell her that he already had the deuced ring. He’d followed her and watched as she’d hidden it, knowing she was no imbecile. She wouldn’t have stood before him with that ring in hand so that he could simply take it from her.

  “The ring,” she suggested coyly, “for the necklace… and your mask.”

  The deuced little shrew.

  Merrick laughed softly. “And what is it you wish with my mask? Do you intend to join my merry band?”

  “Of course not!” she exclaimed, sounding utterly appalled by the notion. But then, she seemed to reconsider it. She was clearly deluded if she thought he would allow it.

  He asked her soberly, “What’s to prevent me from simply taking the ring?”

  “Go on, then,” she taunted with a slight curve to her lips and a sparkle in her eyes. “Take it.” She held out her hand a little farther, tempting him. “Do you think I am such a dolt I would simply hand a thief a ring?” She shook her head. “No, sir, I’m afraid the ring is hidden elsewhere.”

  “I see,” Merrick said.

  And he did; he saw far more than he dared.

  Her breasts rose and fell with her breath and her nipples were taut against the bodice of her gown, taunting him with every breath she took. He eyed her pointedly. “I can’t say I would bargain at that price. After all, I gave you the ring to begin with. What makes you think I wish it returned?”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “You’re here, are you not?” And she gave him a coy, little glance.

  In that moment he wanted nothing more than to toss her over his shoulder like some crude barbarian and to carry her away to the cottage, only to have his way with her.

  “What if I should propose my own little trade?” he suggested, and for emphasis, he pulled the ring from his coat and showed it to her.

  She gasped softly. “You followed me!”

  “Of course I followed you,” Merrick admitted without the least remorse. “What sort of thief would I be if I did not improvise?”

  She scowled at him, clearly annoyed. “Well, you have the ring, so what is it you wish from me? Why are you still here?”

  Merrick smiled shrewdly.

  * * *

  Chloe grit her teeth, furious that he had outwitted her. But she should have known he would not deal fairly. He was a thief, after all!

  “The necklace…”

  Chloe blinked, disbelieving her ears. Surely he wouldn’t simply return it to her.

  “For a kiss.”

  Chloe’s brows lifted. “That’s all you wish from me? A kiss?”

  “No,” he replied. “But a kiss will do… for now.”

  Chloe’s heart skipped a beat, but she dared to barter with him. “And what of the mask?”

  “The mask remains upon my person,” he declared, his tone unwavering.

  It didn’t matter.

  With a kiss she would know all she needed to know. “And how can I be certain you will stop with only a kiss? You’re a thief, after all,” she told him. “Who is to say you’ll not…”

  “Ravage you?” he supplied with a grin.

  Chloe nodded, her cheeks burning under his scrutiny.

  “Because you have my word,” he said simply.

  Chloe arched a brow. “And what worth is there in the word of a known thief?”

  “If you do not trust me… you may walk away,” he suggested, but he withdrew the necklace from his pocket and dangled it teasingly before her, tempting her.

  She considered his proposal, completely disarmed by the fact that he would give up so rich a prize for a simple kiss.

  “Have you never heard of honor among thieves, flower?” he asked.

  Chloe started at his endearment.

  Flower.

  He’d called her flower.

  Lord Lindale had once called her the same.

  It was him.

  Emboldened by the knowledge, she told him, her heart beating faster, “But I am no thief, my lord.”

  He smiled behind his mask. And he didn’t correct her when she used his title. “Ah, but you are. This we both know.” He lifted up the ring and showed it to her, reminding her of her recent act of thievery.

  Chloe chewed upon her lower lip as she eyed both the ring and the necklace, her belly fluttering wildly as she tried to determine what to do.

  A simple kiss, she reasoned… for that alone he would return Lady Fiona’s necklace.

  What harm could come of it?

  Her heart flipped against her ribs. “And you’ll give me the necklace?” she asked, looking for reassurances.

  He nodded once, positively. “After… that is—” he dangled the necklace before her “—if you can live with the knowledge that this necklace might have fed an entire village.”

  Chloe’s brows drew together.

  It wasn’t fair that he should throw that at her. “It’s a matter of honor,” she told him, and couldn’t believe those words ever passed her own two lips.

  For the longest instant their gazes locked.

  * * *

  Merrick couldn’t believe what he was about to say.

  Merely a week ago he wouldn’t have considered this perspective, but a vision of Rusty Broun’s children came to mind, their gentle, dirty little faces appealing to his sense of compassion.

  “And is your honor worth the life of a child?” Even as he asked, he decided, once and for all, that while honor was worth quite a lot, the price of any life was far too high.

  Chloe opened her mouth to reply, then closed it again, clearly at a loss for words.

  It seemed to him that they had both shared a revelation of sorts this week. He could tell by the look in her eyes that she no longer was entirely clear on the answer to that question, and with that epiphany there was a communion between them unlike any he’d ever experienced. His heartbeat quickened painfully.

  “No,” she answered at last, her voice soft, her eyes still locked with his own, and then she added, “Perhaps you should keep the necklace, after all.”

  “And the kiss?” he dared to ask, dropping the jewels into his coat pocket. His casual tone revealed not a trace of the dread he felt. “Shall I keep it, as well?”
/>   For a moment, she didn’t respond and then she slowly shook her head.

  Merrick’s breath caught as she took a step forward, offering herself into his embrace. “The kiss is yours, if you still desire it. A bargain is a bargain. It is my choice, after all, to leave you the necklace.”

  Merrick needn’t any more encouragement. He closed the distance between them, sweeping her into his arms.

  * * *

  Chloe moaned softly as he embraced her.

  Unable to resist, she melted into his arms. Dearest Lord, she knew it was wrong to want him, but she did. She had been so very wrong… this kiss would, indeed, lead her heart astray.

  She feared it had already gone astray.

  His lips touched upon hers and she whimpered softly, eager for the taste and warmth of his mouth. His tongue swept over her trembling lips, tracing the part, coaxing ever so gently.

  “Open for me, flower,” he demanded, his voice hoarse.

  Chloe complied at once, parting her lips with a soft, desperate gasp for air.

  The sensation of his tongue entering her dazed her. The warmth of his body lit hers afire against the cool night air. She clung to him desperately, never wanting to let go.

  He must have sensed the weakening of her limbs, because his arm tightened about her waist, drawing her fully against him so that she felt the hard lines of his very male form.

  His tongue swept through her mouth, loving her with every stroke, tasting her, consuming her soul.

  Chloe moaned softly and her body shuddered in secret places. Like a wanton, her breasts longed for the touch of his hand. Her body betrayed her, warring with her head.

  She needed desperately to see his face.

  Her hand curled over his shoulder, reveling in the width and breadth of him. Her heart racing, she gripped at his mask in an attempt to draw it up to expose him.

  He caught her wrist, preventing her. “Not yet,” he whispered against her mouth. “Not yet, Chloe.”

  Chloe shuddered softly at the intimate sound of her name upon his lips.