A Seduction at Christmas (7 page)

He clamped his lips shut.

“I thought you were hungry?” she teased him.

His glower said louder than words what he thought, so she was surprised when he dutifully opened his mouth.

He really was a handsome man. His huge body took up all her cot and his hair was charmingly sleep mussed. A growth of whiskers darkened his jaw in a very attractive, masculine way—

Her pleasant thoughts were abruptly ended as he spit a mouthful of porridge at her. It hit the side of her chin and the bodice of her neck.

Fiona came to her feet. “That is disgusting,” she said, taking up the closest thing at hand, his neck
cloth, and wiping herself clean. This was her best day dress. She didn’t want it ruined.

Holburn laughed with triumph. “I don’t like porridge,” he reiterated.

“Right now, I don’t like you,” Fiona returned.

“The feeling is mutual,” he countered, and would have said more except that she put the neck cloth to good use. She stuffed the whole thing in his mouth as he prepared to crow again over his actions.

His brows came up in surprise. He tried to spit the neck cloth out but she’d stuffed it well into his mouth. He wasn’t going to make another noise.

“Your rudeness earned you that,” she informed primly. “And you can go without your breakfast, too.” She picked up her bowl and spoon and left the room.

Tad wanted to follow. “Sit,” she said and the dog reluctantly went back to his duties.

The truth was, Tad wasn’t that good of a watch dog. He was more of a lover than a fighter, but the duke didn’t need to know that.

Grace anxiously waited in the other room. “What happened?” she whispered.

“The beast spit porridge on me,” Fiona said, irked beyond common sense. She found a cloth and began dabbing at the stains on her bodice. Her hands seemed covered in the sticky gruel and
she could feel it dry on her face. She moved over to the last of the fresh water in the bucket.

“I can’t believe I stayed up all night to clean his clothes,” she complained bitterly. “Or saved his life. I should have
tossed
him to the Irishmen. Then perhaps he’d have a little bit more respect.”

She turned to see Grace standing with her hand to her forehead. “What is it?” Fiona asked her friend.

Grace dropped her hand, coming over to her to say, “Let him go, Fiona. This is too dangerous. He’s too bold for you.”

From beyond the curtain came the sounds of Holburn’s frustration. The cot bounced on the floor as he tried to free himself.

Fiona walked over to peek through the curtain. Her knots were holding.

Dropping the curtain, she said to Grace, “I might have agreed with you earlier. However, his spitting the porridge has made me angry. Holburn needs to be taught a lesson so he doesn’t continue to carry on like a spoiled toddler.
And I’m just the woman to do it,
” Fiona announced, raising her voice on those last words and directing them in the duke’s direction.

He made an angry, muffled response.

“Wait,” Grace said slowly, the worry lines across her forehead easing. She held up a hand as if beg
ging a moment’s tolerance. “You are enjoying this.”

“I am not,” Fiona answered, ducking under the clothes line to carry the porridge bowl to the cabinet.

“You
are
,” Grace insisted, following. She shook her head. “Fiona, you must be careful.”

“I am being careful,” Fiona answered. “And I
will
have my five hundred pounds.”

“I don’t know about that,” Grace said.

Fiona turned to her. There was a funny note in her friend’s voice. “What are you saying?”

Grace shook her head. “Nothing. Then again, matters are complicated between men and women. I might be wrong, but I think you are interested in
more
than just the five hundred pounds.”

Heat warmed Fiona’s cheeks. “There can be nothing between me and the duke. You are being fanciful.”

“Am I?” Grace smiled with a certainty borne of experience. “Well, we shall see. In the meantime, I have a rehearsal. I’m afraid I can’t return until after tonight’s performance. Will you be all right?”

“Of course I will,” Fiona answered, almost anxious to see Grace gone. Her friend was too wise in the ways of the world. She understood more than Fiona had yet comprehended for herself.

“Don’t let him frighten you,” Grace advised. “Keep him where he is until I return. I’ll see if I can coax one of the night porters to come back with me tonight to help us with Holburn.”

“I’m hoping this whole matter is played out by then,” Fiona replied.

Gathering up her wool cape, Grace said, “I hope it is, too. But just in case, I shall bring strong arms to help us.” She gave Fiona a hug. “Send for me if you need help before this evening.”

“I will,” Fiona promised and Grace left.

Holburn had gone quiet.

The occupants of the room overhead shut a door. Footsteps sounded going down the stairs in the hallway. People were leaving for wherever it is they had to go during the day.

This was the time, when everyone seemed to have somewhere to be, that Fiona felt the loneliest. The last few days since Madame Sophie had let her go had been torturous.

But now, she had something to do.

She had to take care of her hostage—and her first course of action was going to arrange for his ransom.

Crossing to her chest, she took out a small writing box. It held pen, paper, and ink. Picking up a chair from the table, she went to visit the duke.

He lay on the bed, tied down as she’d left him, mouth full of neck cloth, staring at the ceiling.

She set her chair down beside the bed and took out her writing materials. She placed the small bottle of ink on the bedside table. Tad inched closer to her.

“Now, Your Grace,” she said, “I’m going to write a note to your banker and you are going to sign it.”

He mumbled something that sounded very profane.

“You shouldn’t talk like that,” she told him. “It’s unbecoming in a gentleman.”

Holburn’s brows shot together in fury. She smiled, enjoying herself.

She used the top of the box for a writing table.

“Now, let’s see, what shall we write your banker?” She dipped the pen in ink and began, “Dear Sir, Please advance the sum of five hundred pounds to the bearer of this letter.”

Fiona nodded. “That sounds good, doesn’t it?”

Holburn glared at her, and shook the bed with his effort to break free.

“You are wasting your time, Your Grace,” she said, not unkindly. “I know how to tie a knot, which is good because you are going to have to stay here until I withdraw the funds. I can’t set you free before that.”

An idea had been forming in her head since
Grace had mentioned the porter. She and Tad would leave London straight from the bank. She’d hire a lad from the street to free the duke. Of course, she’d contact Grace before she left and warn her to stay away.

It was a good plan.

“I know you don’t like being bested. It makes you angry. However, look at this another way. If you don’t sign, I shall do everything in my power to annoy you. It shouldn’t take me long. A diet of porridge and nettle tea should bring you around soon enough. There’s also the boredom of lying in that bed for hours.”

His gaze narrowed suggestively.

“Alone
,” she emphasized. “You will be alone. I’ll give you a moment to think over the matter.” She set her writing box on the floor and left the room. She took her time brewing a cup of tea. When done, she carried it into his room.

Tasting the tea, she smiled. “Mmmmmm, nettle tea. It tastes so
green.
So different from wine. By the way, do you know what happens when a man accustomed to drinking his weight in grape can’t have any? It makes him irritable. Crotchety. All I must do is keep talking and before you know it, you won’t be able to stand the sound of my voice. You won’t want to eat the food I cook for you and you will want your freedom. Five
hundred pounds is a bargain in exchange for a good beef steak—”

He interrupted her with a huge groaning noise and then raised the fingers of the hand closest to her and pretended to write.

Wearing him down hadn’t taken any time at all. “Very good,” she said. She’d wrapped the ropes around his body on her cot, but had tied each wrist separately, securing it to the bed frame. “I’ll untie one wrist. You sign the document, and I’ll leave to go to the bank. Unfortunately I will have to retie you, but you understand. When I have my money, I’ll return to set you free.”

There, let him believe he was going to see her again.

Pleased with herself, Fiona bent over in her chair to undo the knot around his wrist closest to her.

What she didn’t expect was for his other hand to come across and reach for her.

Or for the ropes tied around his body to fall away as if they weren’t tied at all.

Before she completely comprehended what had happened, he dragged her onto the bed, flipping his body over hers. Holding her down with his weight, Holburn took out the neck cloth gag and captured her hands by the wrists.

He smiled, his blue eyes elated. “Surprised?”

Stunned was a better word.

Tad anxiously approached the bed. The duke gave his head a pat and said, “Down.” Tad immediately dropped to the floor.

“Your dog isn’t much of a guard,” Holburn informed her. “And you aren’t as good at tying knots as you think you are.”

“What are you going to do?” she demanded, surprised she didn’t feel panicked. She didn’t fear him…but she was very conscious of him.

He was hard, aroused, but there was no anger to him. No meanness.

“I’m going to put my breeches on, Fee,” he said, “but first, we need a reckoning. Now, what sort of penalty should I extract?”

And she knew he was going to kiss her.

That’s when she understood exactly what Grace had meant…because she wasn’t adverse to that kiss. She’d lost five hundred pounds, but it was part of the game they were playing between them. The game that had started the moment they’d first met.

“You would be wiser to just go,” she told him.

“I would, Fee,” he agreed, his voice was close to her ear. She could feel his breath against her skin. “But what fun would there be in that?”

His head turned, seeking her lips, and God help her, she let him find them.

Five hundred pounds lost and she would sell her soul for his kiss. What madness was this? She turned, the better to deepen the kiss—

The door to the hallway shook with the force of someone pounding on it. Even the walls seemed to shake. Tad jumped to his feet, the hair rising on his neck, his teeth bared.

“Annie Jenkins?” A male Irish voice, Thomas’s voice called out, “We know you live here. Let us in.” Without waiting for a response, he said to someone with him, “Crash it down. I’ll not have her hiding from us.”

N
ick came up off the bed and crouched, ready to ward off attackers. At any second, he expected the door beyond the curtain to be smashed to pieces.

But the door remained intact. The sound of splintering wood came from the room next door. The thinness of the walls had carried the sound as clearly as if the Irishman stood in front of theirs.

Tad started to growl.

“Quiet,” Nick ordered and was pleased when the dog obeyed.

He glanced back at Fiona. She sat up on the bed, her back against the wall, her face drained of all color.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered to her. “I won’t let them harm you.”

Those dark solemn eyes of hers looked to him with a child’s trust and it was his turn to have doubts. Damn it all. How had this happened? No one trusted him. Everyone knew he cared about nothing but himself.

“Why are they looking for Annie Jenkins here?” he mouthed.

“She lived next door.”

There was clumping around and the sound of furniture being thrown on the other side of the wall. “There’s no one here,” one of the lads called to his leader who swore colorfully.

“Tear the place up,” he ordered, “and then we’ll hunt her down. She has to be somewhere around here.”

Nick didn’t want to face the bastards naked. “My clothes?” he asked Fee.

She nodded toward the curtain.

He moved quietly to the other room and found his breeches, shirt, and jacket hanging to dry. Tad followed him, the huge wolfhound more frightened in spite of his size.

Nick dressed quickly. He heard a new voice out in the hallway. A man shouted, “Here now, what have you done? You can’t be tearing down my building this way.” At the sound of his voice, Tad
grew more anxious. Nick placed his hand on the dog, wanting to settle him.

And then there was the sound of the same man hollering in fear. “No, what are you doing—?”

His question was cut off by a scream and a tumbling sound as if something were bouncing down the stairs. It was followed by silence.

One of the Irishmen, the one Nick was beginning to recognize as the leader, said, “I don’t understand why people can’t mind their own business.” He heaved a heavy sigh. “Well now, she might have stepped out. Find her. Holburn didn’t come home last night. I’m thinking wherever she is, he is.”

“We’d have to search the city,” one of his men protested.

“Do you want your money?” the leader countered. “But first, let’s cover the building. You two knock on every door. Bring her to this room if you find her.”

“What are you going to do?” one of his men asked.

“I’m going to drag that body up here and store it in the tart’s rooms. Who’d have thought the old man would break his neck so easily?”

Nick had finished buttoning his breeches. He pulled on his shirt. Fiona came from behind the curtain with his boots. She set them on the floor
beside him. A nervous Tad pushed her hand with his head, wanting reassurance.

“Mr. Simon was the man trying to stop them,” she whispered. “He was my landlord.”

“There is nothing we can do for him now.”

She nodded, a worry line between her brows.

He reached for her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. “Courage, Fee. I’ll not let harm come to you.”

Before she could reply, there was a pounding on their door. “King’s men,” an Irish voice announced. Tad growled. Fiona bent to restrain him but Nick caught her arm.

“Don’t. Let him bark,” he ordered, his voice barely a whisper. “Make them believe no one is here.”

Unrestrained, Tad bounded toward the door.

Fee moved closer to Nick. “Do you believe they are really the king’s men?”

Nick almost laughed. “The king wouldn’t hire the Irish to sweep the streets. They think that phrase will convince people to open their doors.”

The Irish pounded again. Tad leaped up the door as if he could charge through it.

“Do you hear that dog?” an Irish voice said. “Sounds like he could tear right through the wood, don’t he?”

Tad growled, this time the sound more menacing than when he’d threatened Nick.

“I killed a dog like that once,” a companion answered. “Damn cur tried to take me leg off.”

“Ah go on,” his companion countered. “That dog is probably a wee thing. Not more than yea high.”

“Keep searching,” their leader barked. There followed the sound of footsteps going down the stairs and more knocking on doors.

Nick crossed to the door, the better to hear what was going on. It didn’t sound as if anyone was on their floor any longer. He glanced at Fee. Her body was as tense as a bow string. Deep circles beneath her eyes were another sign her nerves were stretched taut. “They haven’t caught us yet,” he reminded her. He was actually enjoying himself. It had been a long time since he’d felt so alive.

She nodded. She was obviously not enjoying herself so much.

“How do you think they knew who your neighbor was?” he asked, his voice soft.

“Hester hired the room at the Swan in Annie’s name. I don’t know how they could have discovered where she lived from there.” She pressed her lips together and then asked, “But the more pressing question is, why does someone want to kill you?”

“That is a very good question, and one I shall ask Ramigio when I see him. Or Belkins,” he added thoughtfully. “He seems to have taken advantage
of the assignation with Annie to set up a trap. I was surprised when Belkins came to me about the ring.”

“The ring?” she asked.

“A gold signet ring that Ramigio stole from me nine years ago. I’ve sent men all over the world searching for him and the ring ever since. Belkins came to me yesterday saying he’d met Ramigio by chance. The Spaniard wanted to return the ring and, knowing how angry I was, wanted Belkins to set up a meeting. He wanted it to be someplace private.”

“And you were wary,” she said, considering the matter. “That’s why you jumped out from behind the door and grabbed me.”

“I wasn’t expecting
you
,” he answered. “Or I wouldn’t have been so rough.”

She shrugged, dismissing his apology, her mind focused on the mystery. “And after all the time that had passed, you weren’t suspicious of Lord Belkins’s story?”

Nick shook his head. “Of course, I was. Then again, no one outside of the family knows about the ring or that I’ve been searching for it.”

“Except for the men you’ve hired to do the search,” she pointed out.

That was true. Nick was slightly annoyed to
have to admit it. “Of course they knew. But they were tasked to keep their mission confidential.”

“Then how could they ask questions to find the ring?” she wanted to know. “They would have to say something to someone.”

Her logic irritated him. “Of course they had to ask questions,” he muttered crossly. Wanting to put her off, he reached for his boots, sitting in the rickety wooden chair beside the table to pull them on.

But Fee wasn’t one to be deterred easily. “So,
all
of London could have known about you hunting this Spaniard for your missing ring?” she surmised, coming up to stand by the table.

“No,” he insisted. “The men I hired were ordered to keep quiet.”

The corners of her mouth lifted in doubt. “That’s rather naïve of you to think they would, isn’t it?” she said. “It’s been my experience, there are no such things as secrets. Most men I know would babble anything if it made them appear important. Carrying out the confidential business of a duke would be one of those things.”

Nick opened his mouth to tell her she was wrong…and then realized she was right.

He turned his attention to his boots while he considered the implications of this perspective.

“The question is,” Fee continued as if he wasn’t ignoring her, “why would the Spaniard attack you now? What has changed?”

That was the crucial question.

Nick set aside his annoyance with her. He stood. “I think I’d best see Belkins and ask him.”

She nodded. “He is the key.” She glanced at the front door. “I wonder how long we have to wait for Thomas and his men to leave.”

“Thomas?” Nick asked.

“Their leader,” she said. “His name is Thomas.”

“How do you know this?” he asked.

Fee shrugged. “His men call him by name.”

Nick had been toying with an idea but now he made his decision. “You are coming with me.”

“Coming where?” she said in surprise.

He took her arm by the elbow. “With me, to my home. You have a good mind for details, and I don’t remember much from last night. I need you, Fee.”

Her head tilted up to him before she glanced down to his hold on her arm. He resisted the urge to rub his thumb against the inside of her elbow. He was wise.

“I’m not like Hester,” she said carefully.

Nick grinned. “I’ve already figured that out.”

“How?” she wondered.

“Your stiffness, your unwillingness to take advantage of the situation.”

“I wanted to ransom you for five hundred pounds,” she reminded him.

“And a ham-handed attempt it was, too. Come on, Fee, did you really think you could untie one hand and I would sign your letter?”

“If you wanted to be free you would have.”

He laughed quietly. “Fiona,” he said, enjoying the lyrical sound of her name as he let his gaze drop to her lips, “there are ways around you.”

To his delight, her face turned a becoming shade of red. He drew her to him. He couldn’t help himself. She was absolutely delicious. In fact the idea of tying
her
to a bed had great merit—

Hurried footsteps tramping on the stairs brought his attention back to the danger they were in.

Tad had been watching their banter with a dog’s interest. He now came to his feet and stared at the door.

“I have something,” an Irish voice yelled in the hallway. More booted feet sounded on the stairs.

“What is it?” Thomas asked.

“I was asking around for Annie Jenkins,” his man reported. “I told her Annie’s hair was red and she corrected me. Said Annie Jenkins has yellow hair. Thomas, are we searching for the right woman?”

Thomas’s response was to swear.

“What do we do now, Thomas?” one of the men asked.

Nick let go of Fee and moved to the door to listen closer. He noticed she followed him. Good girl. He needed the sharp wits she had between her ears.

“I’m going to go see our client,” Thomas said. He sounded anxious. “I’ll see what he is willing to do. This job’s already been more trouble than we bargained for. And I’ll tell him we’ll need more money for our trouble.”

“How much more?” one of his men asked.

“Double the price. Every time I turn around we’re having to cover our trail with another body.”

There was a murmur of agreement.

“What shall we do in the meantime, Thomas?”

“Watch this building. We know Holburn hasn’t gone home. In fact, when the duke didn’t return last night, our client assumed we’d done the job until I told him differently.”

“You should have kept quiet,” one of the men said. “Then we could have collected our money and been gone.”

Thomas acknowledged the truth of his words with a heavy sigh. “Except the cold-hearted bastard had another job for me to do. It wasn’t much. I took care of it.”

“So how do we find the duke?”

“He’s going to be with the girl,” Thomas said.
“Find the lass and we find our duke. Liam, you stay in her rooms. John, you watch the door downstairs. That way if she returns, one of you can come fetch me. I’ll be back in an hour.”

With that, they all went off in their different directions.

Fee whispered in Nick’s ear. “What do we do? We’re trapped.”

Nick shook his head, knowing there was a way out. He took her hand and led her to the bedroom. Seeing the direction he was going, she leaned back. He gave her hand a tug. “It’s not what you think,” he whispered. Then he couldn’t help but lean close to her ear to say, “Not that I would mind. But when I take you to bed, I want to enjoy myself.”

Her eyes narrowed at the comment. “That won’t happen,” she assured him.

Nick smiled. He knew it would happen. He’d be certain of it.

He brushed the curtain aside and walked to the window. “This is the way Tad enters and leaves the building?” He looked to her for confirmation.

“Mr. Simon didn’t know I had a dog. Well, he knew but we pretended he didn’t,” she confessed.

“That was kind of him,” Nick murmured as he opened the window, more interested in escaping than in the landlord.

“He
was
kind,” Fee said. “He didn’t deserve what they did to him.” There was a catch in her voice.

“Fee, don’t think about it,” he warned. “Don’t give in to fear—”

“Fear
? I’m angry. Furious. How dare they do that to him?”

Nick smiled. “We’ll make them sorry they did.”

“Yes,” Fiona answered.

“But first, we’ve got to escape.” He turned his attention back to their escape. The shed against the building that Tad used had a flat roof. Someone had placed a crate on that roof right beneath Fee’s window to create a step up to the ledge. From this bird’s-eye view, the shed appeared to have seen better days, but Nick suspected if it held Tad’s weight, it would hold theirs—at least long enough for them to reach the ground.

“Pack your belongings,” he ordered. “And be quick about it.”

He didn’t wait for a response but went into the other room and took the liberty of opening the chest on the floor. A black wool dress that had seen better days and the muslin dress she’d worn last night were folded neatly on top of some household items. He took the two dresses and returned to the bedroom. Tad padded alongside him.

Fee had spread a swath of blue and green plaid on the bed and was placing a hairbrush and some
other toiletries on the center of it. She didn’t have much to pack, although he noticed the hairbrush was made of solid silver and she handled it as if it was of great personal value.

“You could sell that brush for a pretty penny,” he said as he handed her the dresses.

He was not surprised when she said, “It was a gift from my parents. I’ll never part with it.”

Her words confirmed his suspicions. Fiona was more than some country girl from Scotland. Her speech, her manner, her intelligence spoke to Quality. There were times when she had more bearing than a duchess.