Touch of Rogue (3 page)

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Authors: Mia Marlowe

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Fantasy, #Historical Romance

BOOK: Touch of Rogue
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“Oh, the usual things one encounters in medieval texts. Special power over others, the ability to turn lead to gold, immortality to the bearer of the blades, those sorts of fantastical claims,” she said, waving them away as unimportant. “Algernon was adamant about finding the missing pieces of the set.”
“Let me guess,” Preston said. “Because the magical properties would only be expressed if one possessed all six daggers?”
“Yes, but that wasn’t my husband’s motivation. He was a serious collector, devoted to history and—”
“And power, wealth, and immortality held no allure for him? What a paragon your late husband must have been,” Preston said with a wry grin. “Let us assume the earl’s motives were altruistic. Why do
you
wish to find the daggers?”
“My husband spent the last part of his life on this quest. He found and acquired five of the daggers. I would like your help locating the final blade.”
“Again, why?”
“Because ... it was my husband’s desire to see them reunited.”
“Not because you believe in magic?”
“Heavens, no!” Mr. Preston didn’t need to know what she intended to do with the full set once she had it. She lowered her gaze and let the tears gather once again. “Call it a widow’s way of dealing with her grief. Reuniting this set of arcane weapons was my husband’s life’s work. He was obsessive about it, particularly near the end. If I finish Algernon’s quest, it will help ease the pain of our parting.”
She was startled by the sound of soft applause.
“Brava, Mrs. True. Your thespian skills are as sharp as ever,” he said sardonically. “As believable a grieving wife as ever I’ve seen.”
She glared at him. “Why do you mock me?”
“Nonsense. I applauded, didn’t I?” He rose and deposited the dagger on the mantel. “I will keep this for a time, so that I may study it.”
Her irritation dissipated slightly. “Then you agree to help me?”
“Almost. There is a final requirement before I commit to this endeavor.”
“If it’s a question of payment for your services—”
“We’ll deal with that later, after I’ve been successful,” he said. “No, I need to know who I’m dealing with and you, madam, are an enigma.”
“But I’ve told you—”
“Only what you wish me to know.” He rubbed his chin as if pondering his predicament. “With most clients, a handshake enables me to get a sense of what’s driving them, who they really are.”
“All that from a handshake? And you claim to have no crystal ball,” she said with a snort.
He leaned down and rested his large hands on the armrests of her chair, pinning her to the tufted back. “But in your case, milady, a connection of a more ... personal nature will be required.”
Of all the cheek!
“You have an exaggerated sense of your own importance, Mr. Preston. I will not bed you simply to procure your services.”
This time, he was the one who snorted.
“Why, Lady Cambourne, what a charming idea! But I wasn’t suggesting a bedding at present. We hardly know each other. However, I must say I’m pleased with the direction in which your thoughts have turned. Believe me, you are not alone in your musings on the subject.”
He ran the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip. “But no, all that I require of you at the moment ... is a kiss.”
C
HAPTER
2
 
H
er amber eyes all but spat fire. Indignation rose in a red flush from beneath her collar, kissing her lovely cheekbones with flame.
Lord, she was a beautiful woman.
She was also a talented actress, but not good enough to fool him. Jacob knew real irritation when he saw it. What annoyed a woman was a strong indicator of what was important to her. He’d felt her gaze flicking over him throughout the interview and knew she wasn’t immune to a man’s body. He’d caught her experiencing some unwidow-ish thoughts.
She wasn’t upset over having them. Simply over being caught at it. Her sensitivity at how she was perceived surprised him a bit till he remembered an actress was first and foremost concerned with perception.
Undoubtedly that drove her to present herself with such stiffly correct posturing. She was driven to prove she deserved the respect due a lady of quality.
She crossed her arms beneath her breasts, pressing them together and lifting them slightly. Jacob’s trousers grew tighter.
“You demand too much, sir.”
“Perhaps.” Jacob shrugged. “And perhaps discovering the truth of your husband’s death and finishing his life’s work isn’t so important to you, after all.”
She drew a deep breath and released it in a single huff. “Oh, very well, if you must, you may have your kiss.” She closed her eyes. “But be quick about it.”
Not bloody likely.
Jacob would take as long as he needed. He leaned closer, so that his breath feathered over her lips. Her mouth tightened a bit at the corners. Whatever she thought he might learn from kissing her, she was determined to shield as much of herself as possible.
A lady with secrets,
he thought with a grin.
Is there any other kind?
He brushed her mouth with his, inhaling her scent. Most women favored overpowering perfumes, heavy with jasmine, rose and cloves. On Lady Cambourne, Jacob detected only a hint of camellia, a subtle, clean floral.
He slanted his lips over hers, creating a firm seal. She was doing her best to remain immobile, but as he traced the seam of her mouth with the tip of his tongue, he felt her softening like a dish of butter in the sun. She was undeniably sweet, soft and pliant.
All woman.
When her lips parted, he didn’t rush in immediately. Instead he drew the breath from her lungs, then gently replaced it with his own. She leaned toward him by the tiniest of degrees. He suckled her bottom lip and she gasped, but didn’t pull away.
She liked men. And based on that quick intake of breath, he’d bet the entire contents of his wallet she’d been without one for a while.
That was something he’d be pleased to remedy. He was just about to deepen the kiss, when she reached up and grasped both his lapels to pull him closer. Then Lady Cambourne thrust her little pointed tongue between his lips and started a teasing exploration of his mouth.
He’d been hard since he’d first suggested kissing her. Now his cock was like iron. The little minx dared him to make love to her mouth.
So he did, nipping and thrusting. She suckled his tongue and offered her own, giving as good as she got. She moaned into his mouth. The needy sound made his balls tighten almost painfully.
So many women in his experience were passive in their passion, waiting for him to waken them, to direct every bit of their tryst. Lady Cambourne would be a handful between the sheets, a woman who knew what she wanted and wasn’t shy about demanding it.
He wondered what she’d do if he decided to test the sturdiness of that wing chair and hike up her skirt for a spirited coupling right there and then. Blood hammered in his ears at the thought.
Down, you rutting bastard,
he ordered his cock. He couldn’t afford to let himself be distracted now. Not when he still hadn’t accomplished what he intended with this kiss.
He laid a hand on her neck, running the pad of his thumb along her jawline. Her skin was supple and silky, but he didn’t intend to stop there. He slid his hand down to rest at the base of her throat, where he could feel her pulse fluttering like a hummingbird’s wings.
Almost there.
Was it his imagination or did she arch her back slightly, thrusting her breasts forward?
Damn.
If only those soft mounds were his aim.
Instead, Jacob splayed his fingers, letting the tip of his longest one brush the silver pendant watch pinned to her lapel. The precious metal had been humming to him in liquid tones since his hand first drew near. Now its song burst into his brain in full force, trilling and brilliant.
He couldn’t remember a time when metal didn’t speak to him. It was always the same when his bare skin touched any sort of lustrous chemical element. The voice of the ore came first and every sort of metal uttered a unique sound Jacob could hear when he was near enough. Delicate, musical notes indicated precious metals, with silver shimmering thinly and gold a warmer, more voluptuous tune. The song of steel was sharp-edged and strident. Iron’s rough tones were ponderous and deep.
Of all metals, only platinum was silent before him. Since it was a restful substance, he surrounded himself with it as often as possible even though its rarity made it terribly dear. The platinum head of his walking stick had saved his sanity more than once when the voices of other nearby ores threatened to swamp his senses.
Then, after the metal’s song, images cascaded through his mind, distorted into shards of shifting light, like a vision seen through a kaleidoscope. The history of the metal object scrolled past at blinding speed. Former owners paraded by. Disturbing events rose from the swirling mists of embedded impressions in the metal.
Along with the voices and the mental pictures came pinpoints of pain stabbing his brain, but Jacob accepted them as the price for using his gift. He steeled himself not to shrink from it as the stings intensified.
Of course, Lady Cambourne’s searing kiss was a good diversion from the chaos in his head. He hadn’t yet plumbed the deepest secret the silver pendant watch could share—its wearer’s emotions.
Jacob cupped the back of the countess’s neck with his other hand to insure that the kiss would continue. She responded with a teasing nip of his bottom lip that sent his groin into pleasurable agony. He wished he could concentrate solely on the lady’s delectable mouth, but he needed to move quickly to open his mind to his gift again.
He sought for a quiet center in himself, a good trick when the rest of his body urged him to action of a decidedly unquiet sort. He longed to wallow in the pure animal joy of a good hard swive, but he finally managed to drown out the riot in his trousers and felt Lady Cambourne’s ... guilt-tinged fear.
Deep-seated, jagged-edged, and unrelenting.
Jacob released her mouth and stood upright. His chest heaved, his body rebelling at breaking off the kiss. But he’d be damned if he’d continue kissing a woman with that much fear in her heart. He looked down at her, searching her face for evidence of the guilty panic he felt roiling off the silver pendant in serrated waves. Lady Cambourne returned his gaze with perfect calm. His assessment of her acting talent shot skyward.
He didn’t think he was the cause of the lady’s distress. Even so, Jacob sensed a wall rising behind her wide amber eyes. Whatever she was afraid of, whatever she was ashamed of, she didn’t want him privy to it.
“Well, Mr. Preston,” she said as she ran a fingertip along her bottom lip. It was only then that he noticed her breasts rose and fell as if she’d just run across Hyde Park with a pack of wild dogs at her heels. If he’d stayed connected with the silver longer, he suspected he’d have discovered she was also as deeply roused as he. “Did you learn what you needed to know?”
Actually the kiss posed more questions than it answered.
“Enough to know I will take your case, madam,” he said, taking a step back to remove himself from the temptation to kiss her again. Not until he learned the source of that self-reproaching fear. “I will contact you as soon as I have discovered anything of interest. Please leave word of where you can be reached with my man Fenwick on your way out.”
“I most certainly will not,” she said. “If I am to be your employer, I’ll dictate the terms of our agreement. You will not leave me dangling in the dark. I will accompany you during your investigations.”
“Out of the question.”
“Then I will seek another to assist me. One who doesn’t make such unreasonable demands on his clients.” She stood and retrieved the dagger Jacob had set on the mantel. It disappeared into her carpetbag.
“You didn’t kiss me as if you found it unreasonable.”
“Good evening, sir.” She turned away, preparing to stride out.
“No, wait,” Jacob called after her. The woman’s portrait ought to appear in the dictionary beside the word
indomitable.
“Very well. You may accompany me. But I must warn you, milady, that a search of this nature often leads to ... less than savory associations.”
She rolled her eyes at him and lifted her chin a notch. “Mr. Preston, I used to be in the theatre. I promise you nothing we encounter will shock me.”
“Point taken.” His estimation of her pluck ticked up several degrees. “However, I must insist you leave that dagger with me at present.”
Her brows drew together. “I’d prefer not to. It’s quite ... valuable.”
Her hesitation made him wonder if its value was the only thing that concerned her about leaving it with him.
“All the more reason to entrust it to my care. I assure you that I have means to protect the dagger and it is essential that I have time to study its unique properties if I’m to find its lost mate.” He held out his hand and after a few moments of indecision, she fished the leather scabbard from her carpetbag and placed it in his waiting palm.
“I will collect you first thing in the morning so we may begin,” she announced.
“Make it second thing in the morning,” Jacob said with a grin as he replaced the dagger on his mantel. “I rarely rise before noon.”
Lady Cambourne didn’t return his smile. “Nevertheless, you will alter your schedule to accommodate me, Mr. Preston. If I cannot discover the remaining blade by—” She clamped her lips tight to stop herself. “Suffice it to say that time is of the essence. Until tomorrow, then.”
She headed toward the door, the gentle swish of her skirts a whispered farewell.
“Lady Cambourne, has someone threatened you over these daggers?” Jacob asked.
She stopped mid-stride. Jacob read increased tension in the set of her narrow shoulders, but she didn’t look back at him so he could assess the answer in her features.
Cagey lady, but I’ll take that as a yes.
“Good night to you, sir.” She beat a hasty retreat.
Jacob watched from behind the parlor curtain as Fenwick saw her out to her conveyance and then returned to shut up the house for the night. No one else was abroad on the street, but as soon as the carriage rattled away, a small figure popped up from the shadows across the narrow lane. The urchin hotfooted it down the block and disappeared into a darker alley.
Legions of masterless boys prowled the streets of London. They were magpies with feet when it came to gathering information and useful for shadowing persons unaware. Jacob had several of them on retainer himself. Someone had taken a definite interest in the countess’s activities.
Or his. Jacob had made his share of enemies in the halls of commerce and working as his brother’s right hand in background machinations within the House of Lords. But given the emotions he’d felt from Lady Cambourne, he’d bet the street rat was tasked with noting her whereabouts.
Turning away from the window, he massaged the bridge of his nose. Now that the pleasing distraction of Lady Cambourne was gone, residual pain from his contact with her silver pendant ached afresh.
He stared at the dagger resting on his mantel. Unfortunately, he wasn’t done with pain yet this evening.
Fenwick appeared at the parlor door. “Will there be anything else, sir?”
“Yes, come back in half an hour. I suspect I will require assistance finding my bed.”
The butler glanced at the dagger and nodded. Fenwick was one of the few souls on earth Jacob had taken into his confidence about his ability to extract information from metal. And one of the few he trusted to help him deal with the aftereffects of exercising his gift for a prolonged time.
“You’ll be wanting a tonic, I expect.”
Jacob nodded. “Easy on the laudanum, heavy on the whisky. Save the Glenlivet for another time.” Might as well use inferior spirits because after extended contact with metal, he’d be in no condition to actually enjoy the drink. “You’ll need to secure the dagger and its scabbard in the safe for the night once I’m finished with it. Do not leave it unattended for a moment.”

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