The Dark Duke Page 4

  She refused to allow anyone to control her ever again.

  “Sit down, Your Grace.” She pointed the pistol toward a chair beside the desk.

  “Do you even know how to use that?” he asked, ignoring her demand. He pointed one finger at the pistol still aimed at his chest.

  “I assure you that I not only know how to use it, but I have used it on more than one occasion.”

  She wouldn’t tell him that all the occasions except one had been firing at rocks. She wasn’t sure if she’d hit her intended target the only time she’d used it to protect herself, but the idea that she’d shot another human being still gave her nightmares.

  Her admission must have made him think twice because he moved to the chair and sat.

  The masculine movements as he settled in the chair, then lifted his angular jaw in her direction, caused a herd of butterflies to take flight in her stomach. She stamped them down. She couldn’t let him affect her like this. She was doomed if she did.

  He leaned back in his chair and studied her. “What are you doing here?” he finally asked.

  She’d known that question was coming and had tried to come up with an answer he’d believe. She hadn’t been able to. “I could ask you the same,” she said.

  “I was following you.”

  “Why?”

  He smiled. “Why do you think? Because every word you told me on Lady Eversplea’s balcony was a lie. Because you no more see the errors of your way than the man in the moon. Because, left to your own devices, you’ll get yourself killed.”

  “I am doing quite well on my own, thank you very much.”

  “What has your brother gotten you into?”

  Her gaze dropped ever so slightly before she jerked it back to his face, but she knew her slip told him enough.

  “Where is he? No one has seen him for more than a month now.”

  Her fingers tightened around the warm metal of her pistol. How on earth had he connected her brother to what she was doing? His uncanny knack was disturbing. Why couldn’t he be as ignorant as the other males with whom she had to deal?

  “Is that thing loaded?”

  His change of topics confused her. She looked at the pistol in her hand then at him. His gaze was locked on the pistol.

  “Of course it is.”

  “Then would you mind pointing it somewhere else?”

  She looked back to the weapon in her hand. The barrel was pointing to the middle of his chest. She moved it.

  “Thank you,” he said, visibly relaxing. “At least if it goes off it will put a hole into the wall instead of my favorite swallotail.”

  His words drew her attention to his chest. She couldn’t bear to think of harming his body. She knew without ever having seen him that he’d be perfect.

  She kept her gaze locked on his pristine white silk shirt and sank into the chair behind the desk. “Please, go home.”

  “You mean, leave you here alone?”

  “Yes.”

  “No.”

  “I’ll be perfectly fine.”

  “No, you won’t. Do you have any idea what can happen here? You’re not walking through Mayfair.” He leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees. “You’re not visiting a shop on Bond Street! You’re rubbing elbows with the dregs of society!”

  “Do you think this is the first time I’ve come here? Well, it’s not!”

  Her admission took him back.

  “I’ve been here more nights than I can count. I know my way around the docks like I know my way around my drawing room.”

  “How in bloody blazes have you survived? You don’t even have enough sense to bring a driver who can be trusted enough to wait for you! He’s gone! He left you here alone!”

  “Jenkins will be back in exactly one hour. We’ve followed this schedule for weeks.”

  “An hour! Do you have any idea what can happen in an hour?”

  “Yes, Your Grace,” she answered in the most sarcastic tone of voice she could muster. “I am well aware of what can happen in an hour. But it won’t.”

  “And just why are you so sure of this?”

  “Because I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. Because, unlike the other hothouse flowers in Society, I do not need anyone to take care of me. Especially a man.”

  “Being capable has nothing to do with it, my lady. You’re still a woman and...things can happen that even you cannot prevent.”

  She tried not to let her embarrassment show but she knew from the burning circles in her cheeks that her face was probably beet red. She didn’t want him to realize that she’d nearly experienced the things he was speaking of and she’d found out something terrifying about herself—if she was ever in a situation like that again, she would do whatever she had to do to protect herself.

  “Why?”

  She looked up with a start. She’d been lost in thought too long. “Why, what?”

  “Why are you here?”

  “That’s none of your concern.”

  “I’m making it my concern.”

  She slid back from the desk and rose to her feet. Arguing with him did no good. He took great pleasure in their battle of words. “You realize you’ve complicated matters immensely,” she said, worrying her lower lip. She had to figure out how to proceed now that he’d involved himself in her affairs. “Are you going to leave?” she asked, giving him one more chance to get out of her way.

  “No.”

  “Very well,” she said in resignation, “then you’ll have to make yourself useful.”

  “This is a joke, am I correct?”

  “No, coming down here at this hour is far too dangerous for it to be a joke.” She slid back from the desk and walked to the windows. “Help me pull the shades. The streetlamps don’t give me enough light to see. I need to light a lamp and I don’t want to be seen.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  She ignored him and pulled the shade over one window and over the glass on the door. He was at the window on the other side of the door, and in a few moments, the room was in complete darkness. She lit a lamp and carried it with her to the set of wooden files against the wall and pulled open the first drawer.

  She didn’t find what she wanted at first, but eventually she opened the drawer that contained the Bulford Shipping ledgers.

  “Keep an eye out for the night watchman,” she said, opening the first ledger on the desk. “There should be one making his rounds in about fifteen minutes. Let me know when you see him. I’ll douse the lamp.”

  “You’ve done this enough to have the night watchman’s routine memorized?” Hadleigh asked, looking through a crack in the drapes. “I don’t believe this.”

  She scanned the entries, starting with today’s date and worked her way backwards. She knew what she was looking for and prayed that luck would be with her tonight and she’d find it.

  Calliope Ann.

  She followed the arrival dates for every ship listed for the past year in the ledger, but didn’t find a Calliope Ann anywhere. Maybe she hadn’t heard Harry right. Maybe he hadn’t said Calliope Ann, but category. There was a Category Lane listed in the ledger. And an Allegory. And a Lionopus. And a—

  She dropped her head to her hands and rubbed her temples. She was so tired. She was so...

  ...scared.

  “The watchman is coming down the walk.”

  She blew out the lamp, then closed the ledger and put it back where she found it.

  Another sleepless night. Another wasted attempt to find a clue to the men who wanted Harry dead.

  She heard the heavy footsteps of the watchman as he made his way down the wooden walk and pressed her back against the wall furthest from the door. Hadleigh stood silently on the opposite side of the room.

  The sound of the footsteps drew near, then slowly faded. When they were just a faint thudding in the distance, she pushed herself away from the wall and walked across the room.

  “Lift the shades,” she whispered, taking ca
re of the windows on her side of the room. She heard the soft swish from the other side and knew Hadleigh was taking care of the windows on his side.

  When they finished, she walked to the side entrance and placed her hand on the knob. Hadleigh’s fingers clamped over hers and lifted her hand from the knob, then he stepped between her and the door.

  “Let me.”

  His voice contained an authoritative tone she didn’t appreciate, but now wasn’t the time to argue. They didn’t have long before the watchman would make his way to the end of the street, then begin his way back.

  He opened the door, looked out into the alley, then stepped out. He looked both directions, then motioned her to follow him.

  “How did you unlock the door?”

  She held up a key and he uttered a word she was sure wasn’t anything one should say in polite society. He snatched it out of her hand.

  “I don’t even want to know how you got this.”

  “I wasn’t going to tell you.”

  He locked the door behind her and together they hurried down the alley.

  He must have heard the watchman’s heavy footsteps the same time she did, for he pulled her up against him and pushed her back against the brick wall of the nearest building and pressed against her.

  Her first thought was that he intended to shield her with his body and she struggled to get out of his reach. She was the one with the pistol, after all. If anyone needed to be in the open, she should be the one.

  But he didn’t release her. Instead he held her tighter until she thought he might suffocate her.

  She opened her mouth to tell him that but he didn’t give her a chance. He braced his forearms on either side of her head and pressed his fingers over her mouth.

  The warm length of his body engulfed her, his legs taut on either side of her. In seconds, a fiery heat spread into her, through her, around her, seeping to every inch of her body and igniting her with the heat of a blazing inferno.

  Her breath caught in her throat.

  What was wrong with her? Fear was the only emotion she should feel; terror at being discovered. But the alarm raging through her had nothing to do with the fact that they were about to be discovered; about to be arrested. The panic that controlled her could only be attributed to the fact that the Duke of Hadleigh stood so close that there wasn’t a breath of air between them. The confusion that raged through her was because she didn’t know what he intended to do, but her fear was that he was going to kiss her.

  Before her mind could make a rational decision as to what she should do, his fingers lifted from her lips and his mouth came down on hers. And he kissed her.

  She tried to push him away, but she couldn’t lift her hands to gain any leverage. And, even if she could, he was pressed so closely against her that she couldn’t find enough space to get her hands between them.

  The brick wall at her back was equally as immovable as the wall of flesh confining her from the front.

  The pressure of his lips against hers was impersonal. She knew it would be. What other emotion could there be between her and the Duke of Hadleigh. They’d been antagonists from the day they’d met.

  Even though she didn’t doubt he considered the idea of kissing her extremely distasteful, she knew his intent was to keep the watchman from confronting them.

  “It might help if you played along,” he ground out against her closed lips.

  She dismissed the impulse to fight him and wrapped her arms around his neck in an outward show of passion.

  She expected his lips to be cold and hard but they weren’t. His flesh against hers was warm, and firm. And...disturbing.

  The watchman’s footsteps came closer and Hadleigh circled his arms around her body and pulled her into him. One hand held her tight while the other blazed a slow, steady path over her back and shoulders, then down her spine to cup her backside. She gasped at his intimate caress and when her mouth opened in surprise, he parted his lips over hers and kissed her in earnest.

  She’d never been kissed before, at least not like this. She knew there were different kinds of kisses—she’d seen one of the footmen kiss a maid once and the way his mouth had opened over hers seemed disgusting. Hadleigh wasn’t kissing her like that, but neither could she compare it to the fatherly kisses she’d received from her papa on Christmas mornings, or on her birthdays. This kiss was different than that. It was somehow...more.

  “Hey, there,” a loud, angry voice echoed from the opening to the alley. “What the bloody blazes do you think you’re doing?”

  Hadleigh ignored the intrusion and tightened his grasp.

  She shifted closer to him.

  “I said, what in blazes do you think you’re doing!”

  Hadleigh lifted his mouth from hers and pulled her against him, cocooning her in his arms as if he could make her invisible. “What the bloody hell does it look like, you blockhead! Now, leave us alone and get the hell out of here.”

  Without waiting to see if the watchman followed his orders, Hadleigh lowered his head again and pressed his lips to hers. The pressure of his mouth was the same as before, but there was a difference in the way he kissed her. An intensity that hadn’t been there before. As if he’d lost his battle to keep the mating of their flesh as impersonal as possible.

  He held her in his arms and continued his convincing act. She had no choice but to play her part equally as well. Except the longer he kissed her, the less certain she was that the kiss they shared was an act.

  A warmth ignited in the pit of her stomach and spread to every part of her body. Before she could come to terms with what was happening to her, the fire raged out of control.

  She pressed close to him and met his kisses with the intensity he demanded from her.

  There was something wrong with feeling like this. There was something wrong with the emotions her body experienced. This couldn’t be happening. She refused to let her traitorous body enjoy kissing the Duke of Hadleigh. She couldn’t tolerate him; had never been able to. There wasn’t a man in all of England more ill-suited for her than Hadleigh.

  But she couldn’t think right now. She could only press herself closer to him and kiss him with the same urgency as he kissed her.

  It wasn’t until she heard a violent oath from the watchman that she came to her senses. She listened as his footsteps continued down the walk, away from them.

  When they’d faded nearly out of hearing, Hadleigh dropped his hands from her body and stepped away from her as if her flesh burned him.

  “Hell,” he muttered in a breathy whisper.

  He braced his outstretched arm against the wall of the building he’d just pinned her against and stood still as stone.

  A cold rush of air slammed into her blazing flesh and she shivered.

  “Let’s get out of here.” He grasped her elbow and ushered her to the opening of the alley. Jenkins was waiting for her.

  Hadleigh’s touch was none too gentle and the speed at which his long footsteps covered the ground left her panting.

  When they reached her carriage, he opened the door for her and she stepped in. This was the awkward moment. She should probably thank him, yet the voice of independence told her that if he hadn’t followed her down here, and if he hadn’t barged in where he wasn’t wanted, and if he hadn’t ordered her around like a child, she wouldn’t feel so uncomfortable right now. She wasn’t used to this. She wasn’t used to feeling embarrassed over anything she did. Regret, yes. Embarrassment, never. Until now.

  She slid back against the cushion in her carriage and turned to bid him good night. Perhaps she’d thank him, although she wasn’t sure exactly why she should. Certainly not for ruining her evening. Certainly not for barging in on her when he wasn’t wanted. And most certainly not for kissing her.

  She turned to him, hoping words wouldn’t be necessary, but what she saw brought out a string of words she couldn’t stop. “What do you think you’re doing!”

  One foot was already in the carria
ge, along with his head, torso and both arms. The same arms that had held her and cupped her backside.

  “I’m escorting you home.”

  “You most certainly are not!”

  She didn’t want him in such close confinement with her. He’d already disturbed her more than anyone ever had. She wanted him far away from her. She wasn’t sure she could pretend indifference one second longer.

  “I’m perfectly capable of seeing myself home.”

  “I doubt you’re perfectly capable of seeing yourself through your drawing room without causing a disaster of some kind or another.”

  “I don’t want you here.”

  “I don’t particularly want to be here either, but unfortunately, I don’t have a choice.”

  “Yes, you do. You can remove yourself from my carriage and we can both forget this night ever happened.”

  “You don’t know how I wish that were possible,” she heard him mutter in a breathy whisper.

  He said the words as if they were a string of unacceptable oaths, as if what had happened between them was as disturbing to him as it was to her. But that couldn’t be. Disturbing wasn’t the word he would probably use to describe their kiss. He would probably call that exchange a...disaster.

  Before she could issue another order for him to remove himself from her carriage and leave her in peace, he commanded Jenkins to “get the bloody hell out of here” and flopped back in the seat opposite her.

  The carriage started with a jolt that unbalanced her. She righted herself then attempted to tell him that she didn’t want, need, or expect his interference from this moment on. But before she could get the first word out of her mouth, his hand shot out to stop her.

  “Don’t say a word. Not. One. Word. I don’t want to hear one lame excuse as to what you thought you were doing, coming to this part of London alone in the middle of the night.”

  “I would have been fine if you wouldn’t have—”

  “No! Not. One. Word. Not one excuse.”

  With an angry hrumph, she sat back against the cushion and crossed her arms over her middle. She hated it when he issued orders. She hoped the angry scowl she leveled at him told him so.