A Gentleman By Any Other Name (24 page)

“Sit down, Court,” Ainsley ordered quietly as Courtland took two quick steps toward Chance, his hands drawn up into fists. “Yes, Court, it could work. If we handle ourselves correctly, it
will
work. But only until the war is over and there's no longer so much official attention paid to the revenue lost due to smuggling. Then, I would guess, freebooting will go back to the accepted activity it's been for centuries. At which time all bets will be off and we'll see these Red Men again.”

Chance got to his feet, still eager to see Julia, although he had rather enjoyed his meeting with Ainsley. Their minds worked so very much alike and always had. “I've one thing more for you,” he said, reaching inside his jacket and pulling out a folded vellum sheet.

Ainsley took the sheet and unfolded it in front of him. “This is your handwriting, Chance.”

“Yes, but not my words. I was fortunate enough to discover the original pages in the pocket of one Captain Flagg. I returned it, of course.”

“You picked the fellow's pocket, you mean, copied this note and then returned the originals.” Ainsley sat back, shook his head as he grinned at Chance. “A trick once well learned is never quite forgotten.”

“Or once a thief, always a thief. You could have been caught. Had you thought about that?”

“Ah, but I wasn't, was I, Court? Still, thank you for worrying for me. I'm touched, really I am.”

Courtland made a rather rude noise in his throat. “What's in the note?”

Ainsley employed a large magnifying glass, for Chance had transferred quite a lot of information to one easily hidden page. “The land and sea deployments of every dragoon and Waterguard up and down the coast, which Martello Towers are fully manned. Where they are, how many there are, their patrol hours.” He laid down the paper. “All that's lacking is a list of pubs where the soldiers do their drinking.”

“Billy has that information,” Chance said, grinning and feeling like a child who has just pleased his teacher.

“And this captain carried all this information with him? Why?”

“To please me, I suppose, Court, as we met for dinner at a local inn in order to discuss just these matters. Very pleasant inn. We had a private dining room so we were quite isolated, although Captain Flagg's oysters didn't sit well with him and he had to excuse himself to the privy for a good half hour, poor man.”

Now even Courtland looked impressed. “You snagged the information, slipped something into his drink, copied the information while he was puking his guts out, then returned the original to his pocket when he came back—all without him knowing?”

Chance bowed to his brother. “That's pretty much the way of it, I'd say. And if that's all for now…?”

“Is it?” Ainsley asked, raising one expressive eyebrow as he looked up at Chance.

Chance shifted from one foot to the other, eager to be out of the room. “No, it's not. Billy made himself some new friends in a few pubs along the way, along with one very interesting connection with a drab who goes by the name of Laughing Sally, who swears to know the when and where of the next large Red Men Gang operation on the Marsh.”

He grinned to see Court actually looking at him with something grudgingly close to admiration. And about damn time his brother understood that a black silk cape, a willing heart and the purest of intentions weren't nearly enough to succeed in a dangerous world. Isabella had coddled Courtland, then Ainsley had ignored him. Somebody had to take the idiot in hand, and Chance had decided he'd been elected to that post.

“I'd like to hear about this Laughing Sally,” Ainsley said.

Chance sighed. “I know. But if you don't mind, I'll let Billy tell you all he learned once someone pries him out of the
Last Voyage.
Which will probably be sometime tomorrow.”

“Very well, I've detained you long enough. I believe Julia is in the main salon with Eleanor, embroidering,” Ainsley said, already sliding one of his ever-present maps toward him. “Court, come over here. Show me where you would propose we engage the enemy. Here, perhaps—or maybe here?”

Chance smiled as he made good his escape from the study, leaving Courtland behind and in the very good hands of Cap'n Geoffrey Baskin, one of the great masters of strategy. And with the Cap'n back, Jacko would not be far behind. Add Billy to the mix, and Courtland would be very shortly whipped into shape, leaving Chance much more time to be with Julia.

“Embroidering,” he muttered to himself as he made his way to the main saloon. “I'll soon put a stop to that.”

J
ULIA SENSED HIM BEFORE
she saw him. Suddenly the air seemed charged with tension, an awareness that she was no longer alone in the main salon, that Chance Becket had returned.

She recognized his sure step on the parquet floor, felt the frisson of awareness she'd felt from their first encounter turn her body cold, then almost uncomfortably warm. Her heart beat faster, and she had to concentrate to control her breathing.

Nobody should have such an intense effect on another person. If not sinful, it was at the very least criminal.

Breathe in,
she commanded herself,
breathe out.

Should she stay bent over the pillowcase she was embroidering and force him to approach her, speak first?

Should she lift her chin and give him a bright, impersonal greeting, just to let him know she hadn't been sitting here for the past four days pining for him?

Did she dare stand up, meet him halfway, throw her arms around him, as if she assumed he had missed her, too?

Julia already knew the answer to that last question. No, she didn't dare. She wasn't sure if his absence had made her heart grow fonder, but she did know his absence had given her time to reflect, consider…and realize that her outrageous behavior with the man could neither be explained nor justified.

Although that behavior could be definitely remembered each waking moment and treasured most when she climbed into her bed at night and held tight the pillow he had lain on, the one that still held his sharp, clean scent….

Contrary woman,
Chance thought, smiling,
pretending she doesn't know I'm here. While I remind myself that it isn't gentlemanly to
pounce.

“Good afternoon, Julia,” he drawled as he skirted around one of the couches and approached her. “My, my, don't you look domestic? And what have we here? The letters
C
and
J,
all daintily entwined in ivy. Very nice. Your own design? I must say I'm very flattered.”

Julia sighed. He had to know she was only embroidering these silly initials under protest. Why hadn't she considered one more alternative? Boxing his ears, for instance, certainly held a great appeal.

Putting down the offending pillowcase and covering the embroidered hem with her hands, Julia glared up at him. “And to think it was so peaceful here these past few days with you gone. I imagine I—”

Julia completely forgot what she was going to say. Chance was looking at her so oddly. As if she were familiar to him and yet also a stranger. His expression seemed part knowing, part inquisitive.

She stared back. What else was there to do? She felt her blood heat even more as her heartbeat doubled. Her body was betraying her.

But Chance's intense stare wasn't the worst of it—or the best of it. He looked…he looked so…so
alive.
His shirt collar lay open beneath his deep green coat and white-on-white waistcoat, the leather strip holding his
gad
visible amid the tangle of golden curls on his chest.

He smelled of the sea, of the sun. His collar-length hair hung free, with one heavy lock falling onto his cheek, and had lightened a little, as if streaked with sunlight, while his skin had gone a golden tan. Even his eyes looked greener.

The man. The man beneath the gentlemanly facade. The true Chance Becket.

Julia wanted to close her eyes, burn the sight of him this way into her brain. But all she could do was look at him while he looked at her and the clock continued it's steady ticktock on the mantel….

Chance realized he should say something. If he could get any words past the sudden constriction in his chest. “And there they are,” he teased, “those incredible green eyes. That proud chin. And, of course, one can always depend on your sweet nature and kind words.”

And then he lowered his voice and succumbed to honesty as he held out his hand to her. “God, Julia—I had no idea I'd miss you so much.”

Julia took his hand and let him guide her to her feet, the pillowcase slipping to the floor unnoticed. How did the man do it? How did he always seem to know exactly the words she would find impossible to resist? Was he that convincing? Or was she that eager to be convinced?

He began backing toward the hallway, both her hands in his now as he smiled down at her, drew her along with him, not really using the hold he had on her hands but with the sheer power in his stormy eyes.

“You…you'll trip over Eleanor's footstool,” Julia told him, wetting her dry lips with the tip of her tongue before she could speak. “Where are we going?”

Chance released her right hand, drew her forward so that he could turn and walk beside her, his moves graceful, like steps in a dance. “You know where we're going, Julia,” he said in a low, intimate tone. “Even if you only want me half as much as I want you, you couldn't want anything else.”

There was no answer to that, so Julia didn't bother to offer one, and a denial was out of the question. “It's only the middle of the day…”

Chance smiled at this feeble protest. “Yes, I know. Do you think we're going to shock everyone if we don't reappear until tomorrow morning?”

Julia was beginning to enjoy herself as they entered the hallway. After all, she was a practical woman, and there certainly was no point in playing the nervous virgin, was there? “I doubt much shocks you Beckets. Besides, I have no intentions of disappearing for any such scandalous length of time. That's ridiculous.”

Chance leaned close to whisper in her ear. “Ah, sweetheart, not if you knew what I've been considering these past few days. How I would kiss you for an hour, simply kiss your mouth. How I'd nibble on your bottom lip, then draw it into my own mouth, suckle on your sweetness. How I'd trace those lovely ears of yours with my tongue and then dip inside to—”

“Well, look what the tide brought in. Hello, Chance. Rian said you probably wouldn't be home until tomorrow. He wants to speak to you, nag you into buying him a commission now that the Frenchies have been chased back to Spain. You won't, will you? Papa says it's not to be thought of because Rian's still such a clumsy ape, but—”

“Later, Fanny,” Chance said, watching as Julia seemed to swallow with some difficulty while blinking furiously. “Julia and I have something to discuss right now.”

“Yes, but—”

“
Later,
Fanny,” Chance growled, and Julia pushed her face into his shoulder, caught between laugher and horrid embarrassment.

Chance led her up the wide staircase, his arm around her as Julia wondered if she could ever face Fanny or any of the Beckets again after this bit of folly. Being taken off in the middle of the day—going willingly, even eagerly—to perform carnal acts with a man not her husband. She was going to be so ashamed. Later.

“I suppose I should tell Alice you're back,” Fanny called up the stairs. “They're playing hide-and-seek in the greenhouse, she and Callie, so I'll just go out there and—you're not listening to me, are you, Chance Becket? Not listening to a single word!”

Chance turned at the top of the stairs and waved at his sister, who stood glaring up at him, her fists jammed against her hips, then bent to lift Julia into his arms, to carry her down the hallway to her bedchamber.

“Did she see you do that?” Julia asked, her face now buried against his chest. “I suppose you'd want Fanny to allow a man to treat her the way you're treating me?”

“I'd tan her hide and lock her in the cellars,” Chance said, grinning.

“Oh!” Julia exclaimed as Chance bent his knees so that he could reach the handle of the door to her bedchamber. “If that isn't the most despicable thing you've ever said to me. All but announcing to the world that I'm your willing mistress—and, no, we will
not
consider the ring you tricked me into accepting or those wretched pillowcases Elly has me embroidering. But your sisters? Oh, no. No such fate for them. Only for me, only for the defenseless, orphaned, unprotected—”

Chance kicked the door shut, then put Julia down. “One, you are far from defenseless just as long as you have a tongue in your head, and well I know that. Two, yes, you're orphaned, but you are not unprotected. Ainsley would have my liver on a stick if I hadn't sworn to marry you, make an honest woman of you.”

Julia opened her mouth to speak, then shut it again.

“What? I know you want to say something. Please, say it—” Chance coaxed, stepping closer to her to take hold of one end of the ribbon holding her hair tight at her nape and pulling on it slowly so that her hair swung free against her shoulders. “Tell me again that you plan to leave here the very moment you're sure Alice is settled, never to see me again. Never to let me do this again…”

Julia closed her eyes and mentally flayed herself for the soft moan that escaped her lips as Chance bent to whisper those last words into her ear, his sweet breath warm against her skin.

“Or this…” he continued, sliding his hands up her rib cage until he could stroke his thumbs over her nipples through the soft muslin of her gown.

“Don't…don't do that,” Julia said, easing against him.
Don't stop doing that…

“Do you mean that?” Chance asked against her throat, aware that his words sounded rather slurred, as if he were slightly foxed. And maybe he
was
drunk. Intoxicated with the sight of her, the taste of her, the feel of her. “Because, if you really mean that, Julia, I'll—”

Julia raised her hands to his face, pushed her palms tight against his cheeks. “Will you just please shut up? Isn't it embarrassing enough that you're here without making me say no, I don't want you to leave? Or are you simply mean?”

Chance's smile grew slowly as he took hold of her hands, then placed a kiss in each palm as he looked deeply into her eyes. “I do admire an honest woman,” he said, then scooped her up in his arms once more and carried her to the bed.

“Wait,” Julia said, pushing herself up on her elbows. “I'm not ready. The drapes are all open, for one thing. And if I have to hand over one more wrinkled gown to be pressed, I'll have to begin wearing a sack over my head to hide my blushes.”

“If you'd finish embroidering that pillowcase, you could use that,” Chance suggested as he watched Julia clamber from the bed, then turn her back to him. “I suppose I'm to play lady's maid and undo those buttons?”

Julia was caught between wanting to tell him to leave and grabbing Chance by the shoulders to physically toss him onto the bed. Did he know that? Of course he did. Just as he knew she would be cutting off her own nose to spite her face if she did tell him to leave. So he was teasing with her, perhaps to prove to himself how much she wanted him—or possibly to prolong the moment?

Because as she stood there, her hands drawn up into fists at her sides, breathing heavily in her need to hold him, to have him…he was slowly opening the row of buttons on the back of her gown, placing a soft kiss on each new inch of skin that was revealed.

Torture. Sweet torture.

She allowed her head to drop forward as he pushed her hair out of the way, trailed kisses across her shoulder blades as the gown sank, forgotten, to the carpet.

His hands on her shoulders. Inching away her undergarment, until she felt the cool air on her and saw that she was now naked to the waist.

Then she watched, holding her breath, as he eased against her back, slipped his arms around her. Cupped her breasts in his hands, using the pads of his thumbs to once more tease at her nipples.

Julia swallowed with some effort, then watched, amazed, as her body began to respond to him, flower beneath his touch.

Had she actually asked him to shut the heavy velvet drapes, throw her bedchamber into deep shadow, rather than stand here in the sunlight that still filtered in through the sheer white panels on the windows? How marvelous that he had ignored her…

With his lips still teasing her nape, his teeth nipping gently at her skin, he somehow managed to push her chemise down and over her hips so that now she was standing in a puddle of sprigged muslin and lace. Entirely naked.

She felt a tightness between her legs, a gentle burning followed by the urge to move her hips, to push her legs tighter together, to savor the sensation that built there.

And still Chance was behind her. She could feel his clothing against her bare skin even as he gently insinuated his thigh slightly between her legs.

“I…I think we should…”

Whatever she'd thought to say was cut off by her gasp as Chance moved his hands lower, his fingers splayed as he slid those hands down her rib cage, her belly. She watched as he circled her navel with one finger, then dipped it inside, instantly tautening the cord of desire that had already been pulled tight between her breasts and her groin.

Her skin felt like warm silk beneath Chance's hands as his mind tumbled with tense, disjointed commands from his own body. His own hands looked so huge on her slim body. Capable of spanning her hip bones.
Touch her. Taste her. Here. Now. In the light of day. Teach her, learn her every secret.