The Trouble With Misbehaving. Victoria HanlenЧитать онлайн книгу.
He pulled her to a stop. Taking her hand, he kissed a gloved knuckle. Her enticing vanilla and honeysuckle perfume blossomed through his senses—the same fragrance as on the letter. Lord, she smelled good. How long had it been since he’d even noticed a woman’s perfume?
Clearing his throat, he said, “Now then. Would I be correct if I said your initials are C.C.?”
“Yes, they are,” she said with an air of self-possession.
He didn’t know what he’d expected, but he never would have imagined a woman like her. “Why have you asked me to meet you here tonight?”
She waited for a couple to walk past before leaning in to whisper, “Did you not read the letters?”
He pulled the note from his jacket pocket and held it up. “I read this one.”
Her features tightened. “You should have received two more. Did you read them?”
Rather than deny he’d gotten the letters, he merely said, “No.”
Two elegant brows drew into a frown. She lifted her chin. “Why not?”
He almost laughed at her presumptuousness. Who was she to take him to task for not reading her letters? She reminded him of an autocratic Greek tutor he’d once had, although he found her much more interesting. “Madam, before a few minutes ago, you were a total stranger. When I receive unsolicited letters from unknown addressees, alas, they go into the fire.”
“Into the fire!” She rocked on her feet and glared up at him, her ringlets bouncing to and fro. “If you’d bothered to read them, you would have found that my man of business set forth the whole proposal in detail!”
Well, well now wasn’t she a feisty one…so direct and so…different. “Perhaps you could give me the short version,” he drawled, unable to keep the smile from tugging at his lips. Ordinarily he might take offense at her plain speaking. Instead, her uninhibited boldness made him want to laugh. He could almost see sparks sputtering around her tight hair coils and rather enjoyed ruffling her.
She glanced about them again, waited for another couple to pass and said in a quiet clipped tone, “The short version is that I am in desperate need of your help and expertise.”
“To do what?” He grinned.
Cannon blasts pummeled the air and shook the ground. The percussion slammed him in the chest and knocked him back a step. All the air disappeared. He clutched his arms to his sides, gasped for air and hoped to God this very attractive woman couldn’t see how his nerves were fraying.
In the distance, a stentorian voice announced the reenactment of a battle. Even though his mind knew the cannon fire was only an exhibition, his body couldn’t be so easily convinced.
Concern etched C.C.’s countenance. “Are you all right?” She gently placed a gloved hand against his cheek, tipping his head down.
He had the oddest sensation of falling into fathomless eyes filled with compassion, calm strength and a steely will—a mooring of sorts.
Rifle volleys sent sharp waves screaming through him. He clenched again, and struggled to mirror her slow inhale and exhale. Gradually, his rigid sinews began to loosen.
“Do you have difficulties with London’s air, too, Captain?”
“How did you do that?” he gasped.
“Kipp, a little boy at the orphanage, has weak lungs. His brother showed me how to help him when he has an attack.”
Beau had never experienced anything like it. In those silent, breathless moments he’d sensed a connection form between them. But was it an illusion? Another trick from a lady of the evening or a spy?
The cursed prickles began treading up his spine again. Cringing, he slowly peered over his shoulder. If C.C. was standing in front of him, who was spying on him from behind?
Several couples strolled toward them out of the fog.
Clutching her elbow, he led her across the manicured lawn into a copse of trees.
“What are you do—”
He swung them behind a tree and peered out. Whatever she wanted to talk about suddenly lost importance. The villains following him were the more immediate problem.
“Tell me—”
“Shhhh.” He pressed a finger to her lips.
Two men in top hats stepped off the gravel path and picked their way across the lawn.
Beau marched C.C. deeper into the grove around trees and shrubs. Then through an archway of fragrant vines to a fountain struggling to reflect hazy moonlight. They needed to stay quiet and hidden.
“Before you drag me any further into the bushes—”
Didn’t the woman know the meaning of shhhh? She would give away their hiding place if he didn’t do something quick. He pulled her to him and covered her mouth with his. Mint and vanilla filled his senses.
Her sweet, almost maidenly response surprised him. No, she probably wasn’t a tart. Just a hasty stolen kiss, yet he couldn’t help appreciate the tantalizing fit of her supple lips under his and how her body softened against him. His heart stammered and launched into a faster beat. Lifting his head, he gazed about her bewildered, upturned countenance, breathlessly poised for a man’s kisses. Hmm, not entirely a maiden either.
Perhaps another quick kiss would clarify matters?
Alarms blared through his mind, but the evening’s stresses muted their warning. Months of wondering if each day would be his last had his inner voice insisting: live life when it’s handed to you…it could end in a heartbeat.
He lowered his head and softly brushed her lips.
Though clearly not experienced, she returned his caress with such tenderness he couldn’t describe why it felt so thrilling, so right. They’d just met, yet she kissed him as if she was…as if they were…well, something more than strangers.
She circled her arms around his neck and leaned into him. This spurred him further. He angled his head for a better fit; she moved to accommodate. Warmth trickled into the damaged, hollow place in his heart. For the first time in a very long while he allowed himself the comfort of human contact, and he couldn’t keep his starved longing from entering his caress. Lifting her off her feet, he held her tight in his arms.
C.C. responded with a sigh and melted into him, sending shocks through his torso. A sensual fog clouded his mind. His heart thumped wildly and another part grew uncomfortably insistent. The woman wasn’t joking when she promised the Highest Rewards and Benefits.
Hazy thoughts struggled through overloaded senses.
No. This was too convenient. He still didn’t know why she’d sent him the notes. Two men were trailing him. Was she really a spy? He set her down. “Madam, this better not be a trap.”
At his words, she pushed out of his arms. Her confused expression sharpened. “If you’d responded to the first two letters we wouldn’t be tromping around a darkened pleasure garden at nearly midnight.”
“Quiet,” he breathed, as he peered around for their pursuers. “Four words, madam. What’s this about?”
“The Roundabout…the blockade.” Her voice quavered between gasps.
The Roundabout? How did this woman know about his ship? “I don’t understand.”
“I need your help. You have the experience and knowledge to help my family—”
Footsteps crackled through the leaves and grass only a few feet away. A deep, gravelly voice rasped through the gloom, “It was her, I tell you. She went into this grove with some bloke. Keep looking.”
She went into this grove with some bloke? They were chasing C.C. and