Daring the Duke (24 page)

He had to know if the suspicions that had formed tonight were correct.

There were so many questions vying in his brain that he didn’t know which to ask first.

He issued a statement instead. "You were with the ruffians that trapped me on the bridge a year ago."

She folded her hands and looked him straight in the eye. "No."

"I overheard you talking. You witnessed my jump."

"Yes, but I was not with the ruffians, as you call them."

Stephen put the glass on the rosewood table and leaned against the hearth across from the sofa.

"Then what were you doing there?"

"I followed Leonard and a few of the others."

"Asking you questions is like catching fish with bare hands. Why did you follow them?"

"I heard they were going after you. I wanted to see it for myself."

"Curiosity was all?"

She didn’t blink. "Yes. I had observed you before, but not closely. Of course, you hadn’t pegged me as Hermes yet, so as long as you chased me in the shadows I was safe."

Stephen's blood warmed. She was so confident in her abilities. So sure that she would have continued undetected. So strong. "Where were you standing?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Where were you standing when they attacked me?"

One foot shifted, but the rest of her stayed still. She continued to look him straight in the eye. "I don’t see why that is of any importance."

"You weren't on the bridge, I would have seen you."

"Then I wasn’t on the bridge."

"You were on the bank, admit it."

A spark of defiance lit her eyes, breaking her calm expression. It only succeeded in heating him further. "Why bother asking me the question at all then?"

"I want to know."

She tapped her left heel against the floor twice. "Yes, I was on the bank. I could see most of what was going on and still remain undetected."

"So you saw what happened after I jumped in the water. "

"You fell quite ungracefully into the sour pits of the river. "

"And then?"

"Well, that pretty well frustrated the men who were trying to beat the information out of you on the bridge."

"Who pulled me out of the water?"

She didn’t move, but he could almost feel her body tense. "The show was over, I left. I don’t know how you managed to pull yourself from the river."

Stephen moved until he was standing over her, staring at the top of her head. She tilted her head back. Her brows drew together, and she rose and put her hands on her hips. "You aren’t going to intimidate me, Chalmers."

He wanted her to call him Stephen. He wasn’t trying to intimidate her; he was just having an unsure moment of how to proceed. She was so strong, and yet there was a fragile quality about her as if one small push would be the one to send her over the edge.

"Audrey, you pulled me out. And you nursed me. That’s why you seemed so familiar. I remember you. It’s like something out of a dream, but it was you. It finally makes sense."

She crossed her arms. "You’ve taken leave of your senses. Why would I have saved you? You were nothing but a pain in my arse."

She was gazing at him with wide eyes just as she had the other day when he had taken the documents from her trousers. Another light went on.

"And that explains why you came through my window the other day. The footmen who saw you drop me off at my town house were in the front hall talking with Grimmond. You couldn’t take the chance that they would recognize you."

"That’s absurd."

He gave her a soft smile. "No, no it's not absurd in the least."

She sat back down and looked at her hands. "You are such a tenacious man. I was afraid you would remember. That's why I took you back to the town house inhabited by Lady Angelford. I couldn’t risk keeping you with me any longer. I knew you were going to regain consciousness at any moment."

"Why did you save me? Your cohorts obviously didn’t want me alive."

She waved a hand. "They were hired by outside men to do an extra job. It wasn’t on Flanagan’s orders."

"I know. The men who organized it were instructed to gather information concerning the death of Calliope’s father. They have been taken care of.

But that doesn’t answer the question of why you saved me."

She shrugged. "I admire a good move as well as the next person. It didn’t seem fair that after escaping from them, you’d drown from your injuries."

His thoughts were jumbled. "I’ve been searching for my rescuer. You."

"Why?"

He didn't know why, he just had had to find her. His throat was dry, so he cleared it. "I was curious, that’s all."

"Well, you found me." Audrey frowned. "I've been trying to discover who ratted me out. Care to enlighten me?"

Stephen shook his head. "No one ratted you out. The footmen knew you were a girl. I sent men all over the city trying to dig up information.

Imagine my surprise when clues concerning you and your sister kept popping up. I merely connected them and started following you as the thief Hermes, rather than my savior."

Audrey looked disgruntled. "So my saving you led to you knowing my identity?"

"Yes." He paused. "Thank you."

"Ah, well, if I had known at the time that your investigation would bring you down on my head might not have been so accommodating."

"You obviously did not learn from your mistake. You saved me again at the theater." He smiled. "Besides, if you hadn’t saved me, I wouldn’t have had the pleasure of knowing you."

There was a naked moment of emotion on her face as if that would have caused her pain, and lightning shot down his spine. The urge to grab her and never let her go was strong, but he sat next to her instead and leaned back. Every rational part of I his mind said he shouldn’t give in to this crazy obsession with her. Yet every other part urged him on. There was something very important about the moment.

"Where should we go from here, Audrey?"

She looked over at him and leaned the side of her head on the back of the sofa so that she faced his side. "Where can we go, Stephen?"

"I honestly don’t know. All I do know is that I’ve never wanted anything so badly as to take you upstairs with me."

He looked both determined and resigned. Panic and excitement warred within her. She put up a last front.

"Out of gratitude?"

Stephen grimaced but didn't move. "Definitely not."

He was so honest. All of the men in her life had been anything but. Her normal defenses were failing under his steady stare and open air. Trusting him would only open her to further pain. She knew it. And something about the steady acknowledgment of spending the night together instead of falling into it in a fit of passion made the decision harder than it had been the night before.

Yet, there was tonight. One night to be free, not to think about the past, not to worry about the future. He wasn't promising anything, and neither was she.

"I want you to take me upstairs."

His eyes were gentle as he held out his hand. She took it and the warmth caressed her. He rose from the sofa and lifted her to her feet. They walked hand in hand down the hall and up the stairs. Each step brought her closer to his room, and each step caused the flurries in her stomach to increase and the weight of her burden to lift.

He opened the door and stood aside, allowing her the choice. She walked in and breathed in the pine scent. Sometime during the evening he had taken time to transport a few plants into the room. They were sitting in pots around the floor. He reached down and pushed one to the side.

Nothing to bar the way to the bed. The covers were already pulled back but not rumpled. He had probably not even undressed for bed that evening.

She walked forward and sat on the edge, watching him as he lit candles on both sides of the bed.

She shivered, and he turned to her. "Would you like me to light a fire in the grate?"

Suddenly shy, she shook her head. "No, I am fine, thank you."

He knelt before her. Taking one calf in his hand, he began rubbing it. Up, down, circle, up, down, circle. The heat slowly started to spread as he worked his way up to her thigh. A tightened feeling in her chest caused her breath to catch as he switched his attention to the other leg, massaging it as well. By the time his hands reached her thigh her breathing was coming in short gasps. He lifted her onto the bed, carefully laying her down. He removed her boots pausing at the sight of her ankles.

Laughing softly he removed the straps that kept two knives in place and tossed them to the floor. She looked over the edge of the bed as the steel disappeared into the shadows.

He pushed her back onto the pillows and ran a finger up her stockinged right calf and placed her feet under the covers. Both hands moved up her legs to her waistband. He slid her trousers down slowly. She barely felt the cool air this time as his hands lingered on her skin and he tucked his finger under her garter straps, where two reserve knives were strapped.

The garters were for dresses, but they were her insurance in case she was captured. His fingers caressed the garters, then undid them and slipped them off as well. Two more pieces of steel hit the floor.

He tucked her legs underneath the covers. She reached for him, unsure whether to undress him as well or allow his exploration to continue.

She reached for him, but he simply caught her hand and tucked it beneath the pillow as he drew his fingers up and over her thighs, her hips to her stomach, pushing her shirt up and leaving a trail of heat in their wake. Her shirt was undone, and he lifted her back from the bed and removed it.

Two solid thunks resounded from the shirt hitting the floor. He looked at the trousers, which were still on the bed. Little knives were tucked into various sheaths. He placed the pants on the floor instead of dropping them. He chuckled and whispered into her hair, something about carrying a small arsenal. His breath caught in her left ear, and her head fell back.

He kissed the side of her neck, and his lips trailed down and to her chest.

His right hand started at her ankle and trailed slowly upward on the inside of her leg. His lips continued their descent and his hand its ascent. Heat collided from both directions as he pulled a nipple into his mouth. Her hips lifted involuntarily as his fingers reached their target and wrapped around her. Dear Lord, she didn’t think she could stand it. A faint warning caused her to tighten her thighs.

This man would not be a part of her future. He could not be. Stephen seemed to sense her indecision, and his hand stopped its motion, resting on top as his head lifted and rested against her neck.

Tragedy and romance; Shakespeare would be proud. One night. Just one night to keep the darkness at bay.

Audrey reached up and unbuttoned his shirt. She heard him catch his breath. She looked at his face, thrown into shadow and flame by the surrounding candlelight. Touching his face, she brought her mouth to his and kissed him with everything inside of her. He returned the kiss, and she felt him giving her a piece of himself. She grasped it, and her fingers moved to his shirt, pushing it off, then running her hands over the muscles underneath.

His warm hands roamed, making promises. Even his lips on hers made whispered promises that she knew could not keep for tomorrow. But they were hers for the night, and she gripped him as he moved his promising lips down her body and replaced his hands with them as she arched against the bed. Waves of pleasure washed over her, and she bit her lip as her head moved back of its own will.

Those whispering lips moved up her body, and she grabbed them to hers as he slid inside. She shuddered as he pushed, and her body accepted him completely. It was so right, so complete a feeling.

The light flickered over his features as he began moving above and inside her. She leaned her head back and stared into his eyes, mesmerized by the look there, the promise in their depths. The longer she stared into his eyes, the more the sensations intensified until wave after wave of pleasure crashed through her, and she buried her face against his shoulder, crying out in tandem with him.

Stephen drew the covers around her. Audrey hadn’t shivered since her clothes had come off, but she seemed to be perpetually cold, and he didn’t want her to be uncomfortable.

She had long since fallen asleep, but Stephen didn’t think it would take much to wake her. In her line of work it wasn’t a good idea to sleep heavily. He frowned. He had chosen his line of work. He had lain many a night waiting for the enemy to sneak up and snuff him.

But she hadn’t chosen her life. It had been forced upon her, and she had succeeded in leaving it once, before being dragged back. She curled into a ball, not even trusting him in her sleep. What was he going to do with her?

One night with her had done nothing to satisfy his obsession. If anything, it had increased it, just as he had known it would. So many facets, so many fascinating angles--she was a puzzle waiting to be solved.

More than that, she was challenging--demanding and forthright. He thought about the pile of clothes on the floor. A woman with a damn arsenal of weapons strapped about her at all times. Not a blushing debutante. Not a schemer hiding in the shadows. Not quite honest, not quite noble, but with a set of guiding principles that she abided by. And although he knew the important ones, he wanted to know all of them.

lf he were logical, he should walk away now and never look back. He was walking on the edge of a precipice. He knew it, Roth knew it, and James knew it. Hell, even James’s bodyguard had mumbled it within his hearing. But Stephen couldn’t turn his back on the most intriguing woman he