He’d waited in that awful pub for what felt like an eternity precisely to avoid this sort of interaction. Ah well. He reached into his upper pocket and fetched the cheroots his brother had given him before parting. He plucked out two as he watched that bloody Admiral Oliver Lonnegan and his men descend with a look that wavered between confusion and triumph.

They had him. He stuck one of the blunted cheroot ends into his mouth as he held the other out to the admiral, who looked at it as though it might be a weapon. If he were to be confronted and interrogated, might as well be a gentleman about it. He supposed many a man would be panicking right about now, but he was an earl. Rightfully so or not, didn’t make much of a difference right about now.

His brother hated the fact that the title put him above the law, but right about now he could hardly muster the same irate anger at the injustices of the world since it meant he was highly unlikely to see the walls of Newgate anytime soon.

He struck a match when the admiral reached him and took the cigar from him. “My lord,” he said with a nod of his chin, as though this was merely a chance encounter on the streets of London, or as though he weren’t dressed down and exiting a pub that was even now filled with criminals and reprobates of the worst order.

But Marcus wasn’t there, and neither was his crew. He let out a long exhale, smoke circling his head as he allowed his relief at his brother’s timely exit to take prominence over his own discomfort. So he’d been caught in an unpleasant position. It could have been worse. At least Marcus hadn’t been found out.

“Might I ask what brings you to the docks, my lord?” The admiral’s tone was congenial, but Alistair did not miss the scrutiny in those wizened old eyes, nor the fact he had not called off his men.

He met the old man’s look with one that had been known to make the most stalwart of noblemen cower. “I might ask you the same, Admiral. Surely a man of your rank is above nighttime raids on the docks, are you not?”

He’d added a hint of condescension to his tone, not to anger the man, but to remind him of his place. It did not work. The older man stiffened, straightening to his full height, which very nearly matched Alistair’s. “I could say the same for you, my lord. This hardly seems the place for a man of your rank.”

They stayed like that, staring at one another, and Alistair waited for the other man to blink. He did not. Hmph. Admiral Oliver Lonnegan was a formidable old man. Still, he had nothing on him—nothing of significance anyway. After all, an earl had the right to mingle with the lower classes in disguise if he so chose. Eccentricity was the right of the rich and titled, everyone knew that. But for military men? Even ones with a high rank and good name behind them, they did not share the same understanding from society at large when found out in their peculiarities.

“Tell me, Admiral,” Alistair continued with the barest hint of a sneer. “Do you always join the night watchmen on their rounds, or is this a lark on your part?”

The older man narrowed his eyes. “There have been rumors swirling about the docks,” he said, not answering the question, Alistair noted. “We’ve been tracking a crew of pirates who had the gall to come to the Port of London.”

Alistair arched his brows, feigning shock. “Audacious rogues. What could they have been thinking?”

The admiral narrowed his gaze, no longer trying to hide his suspicion. “Word has it that this particular crew is well connected.”

He arched an imperious brow. “Well connected?”

The older man grunted, some of his ill-concealed suspicion seeming to waver in the face of Alistair’s unconcerned, haughty air. “That’s right,” he said. “There’s been rumors that the pirates are being funded by some highborn, titled gentleman.”

Alistair did not have to fake his snort of disdainful amusement. Highborn. Him? Rumors might be swirling about his involvement with Marcus and his crew, but at least the secrets surrounding his birth were still well hidden. Heaven help him if it became known that not only was the great and powerful Earl of Colefax a pirate conspirator, but a bastard to boot. Newgate might be his home if both secrets were to come to light.

The silence between them grew and Alistair waited with a resigned sort of stoicism. He braced himself for the accusations, the questions. Surely the admiral hadn’t come over here with all his men simply to have a smoke and make small talk.

The admiral finally opened his mouth. “See here, my lord—”

“Why, Admiral!”

Alistair froze at the voice that came from behind him—so familiar and yet so very shocking. The admiral’s eyes widened as his gaze fixed on someone yet unseen, standing behind Alistair. For his part, Alistair did not bother to turn around and look. He did not trust himself to. He did not know what she was up to, but it hardly mattered. If he were to see her now…well, only heaven knew if he would shake her or kiss her. What the bloody hell was she doing here?

The ‘she’ in question came up beside him and slid her hand into the crook of his arm as though she belonged there. He did not pull away, but he did brace himself before looking down at her. Hell and damnation. She somehow managed to look impossibly lovely while shrouded in a dark, shapeless cloak with her hair twisted back in a simple chignon. No, she was not merely lovely, she was luminous in the lamplight. She looked like an angel at his side—but the question was, had she been sent from heaven or hell?

The admiral, God help him, sputtered and jerked back as though he’d seen a ghost. It seemed that for all their newfound friendship, he was not aware of the lady’s eccentricities. “Lady Henrietta, what are you doing here?”

She looked up at him then, finally meeting his gaze. The smile she bestowed would have slain a weaker man. As it was, he was merely gutted, left to stand there and gawk as she turned his life on its head for the millionth time.

“Lord Colefax was kind enough to escort me to the docks this evening,” she said simply.

Alistair blinked down at her. What sort of nonsense was this? How did that explain anything? Before he could ask or even try and cover for her ridiculous lie, the admiral took a step forward. It seemed he’d recovered his wits because he bowed elegantly and kissed her hand—as if they were at a boring society ball and not standing amidst the squalor and stench of the docks.

“My lady, what a pleasant surprise.”

Alistair turned to glare at the man. How was this a pleasant surprise? To see a beautiful, genteel lady like Henri in the midst of this den of thieves was pleasant? He would bloody well kill her when this was all said and done.

She simpered up at the other man, giving the grizzled old man a smile the likes of which Alistair had never seen on her before. It was simple and sweet yet innocent and beguiling. In short, it was everything Henri was not.

“I am afraid I’ve not taken your warnings serious, Admiral,” she said. Alistair frowned down at her. What on earth was she on about?

The Admiral’s arched brows were all for show. He had the air of a disappointed but loving father about him as he gave her a tolerant shake of his head. “Your heart is too big for your own good, my lady. A young woman like yourself could get into serious trouble in these parts.”

Henri did a remarkably decent job of looking chastened. Her acting was so good Alistair was tempted to laugh. He squelched it quickly enough as Henri launched into a ludicrous story about how she’d asked him to accompany her so she might help the orphaned poor and the young girls with no options. It seemed she’d come here as part of her charitable duties for the church and its orphanage.

He stared in disbelief as the admiral nodded and then shook his head, clearly torn between admiration and disbelief. As well he should be. If this man actually believed Henri was simply here for charity, he did not know the woman at all.

“I’ll be begging you to use more caution in the future, my lady,” the admiral said, giving her that paternal smile again.

Bloody hell. The old fool believed her.

Alistair kept his mouth shut as the admiral’s entire demeanor changed from suspicion to applause as he patted him on the shoulder and thanked him for looking out for such an innocent and lovely lady. To his credit, Alistair kept from laughing, but barely. The only thing that kept him sober was the thought of the trouble Henrietta had placed herself in.

For him.

She was here for him. They both waited until the admiral and his men had moved on down the road before speaking and when they did, they spoke at once.

“You bloody fool,” he said, growling.

“You must be an idiot,” she whispered with a hiss.

They stood there fuming, his nostrils flaring as he battled for calm. He watched her breasts rise and fall quickly beneath her cloak, belying the cool mask that covered her features. Her eyes were another giveaway. They sparked with anger and irritation.

“You are angry with me?” He bit out the words, exasperated.

“Of course.” She kept her voice low, but it didn’t hide her passion. “You could have been arrested.”

He scoffed. “Me?” he said. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten who I am.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Believe me, Alistair. I know exactly who you are.”

His chest tightened and some of his anger sputtered in the face of that knowing glare. What did she mean by that? He had a feeling that her words hid a world of meaning…but what? Something deeper and darker—a suspicion he did his best to ignore—surpassed that question and nearly felled him with the stunning realization. She did know him. Whether she knew all of his secrets or not, she knew him.

He shook off the thought, focusing instead on those lush lips that beckoned him. “What were you doing here tonight?” He asked the question, though he already knew the answer.

She cast a quick glance over her shoulder to be sure the men were gone before facing him squarely. “Following you.”

He drew in a deep breath and grasped her shoulders. Yet again, he did not know whether to shake some sense into her or kiss her until she lost all her senses. His body seemed to answer the question of its own volition. He crushed her to him, his mouth claiming hers with a hard, heated kiss that made her gasp. When her lips parted he seized on the opportunity and slid his tongue into her mouth, seeking out her heat and laying claim to her as if she were his.

Because she was his. He’d known it for ages now, he supposed. His mind might fight it but something in him—something primal and dark—knew she belonged to him. And he to her. The new and sudden knowledge had him pulling back to stare at her, too astonished to speak, but he needed to look into her eyes. He was desperate for that connection for reasons he had yet to fully acknowledge.

Her eyes blinked back at him, deliciously dazed, her lips pink and swollen from his kiss. She leaned in toward him as if unwilling to part. “If that is your way of saying thank you…” Her low laugh was breathless, and it made his gut clench with need in response.

He ignored it. “Thank you?” he repeated incredulously.

“You are welcome,” she murmured, her smile teasing as the glint of mischief and intelligence returned to those sharp eyes. He let out a little growl. The little hellion. Even as he thought it, he couldn’t help but think—my little hellion.

The plan he’d already put into play seemed like a sign from above. When he’d set out to show the world he was courting her, it had been to hide his misdeeds. No one would think twice at the accusations of a thwarted lover. His little minx could have ranted to the heavens about his improprieties and criminal connections, but everyone would think it was nothing more than a jilted woman’s revenge.

But now? Well, now the pieces all seemed to fit into place rather neatly, really. He could have everything he wanted—everyone he wanted—while still maintaining his business and his fraternal obligations. Of course, he thought as he studied her alarmingly smug smile in the glow of the lamplight, it would take some finesse and a lot of planning. It would also take some…seduction. This woman would never come willingly into his home or into his bed. She had too much pride and a rather obvious fear of losing control.

She arched her brows, her smirk never wavering, but caution clouded her gaze. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

She pursed her lips as she studied him. “Like you are about to eat me whole.”

He felt his lips twitching with mirth despite everything—despite knowing his whole world had fallen down around his ears at the realization he wanted her. Forever. For keeps. The realization that she did not want him—not yet, at least, flitted through his mind. He marveled at the reality of knowing the woman he wanted as his own was more stubborn and bullheaded than he was—and that she’d nearly gotten herself killed tonight.

It was the last thought that had him leaning down so their noses nearly brushed. “What were you thinking, coming out to the docks alone like this?”

She blinked at his proximity. “I was not alone.”

Rage swept through him, fierce and debilitating. “Who was with you?” What sort of fool accompanied her on an errand such as this?

She pressed her lips together and his suspicion grew. He had no doubt this woman could cajole any number of young men into doing her bidding. Jealousy and possessiveness warred within him, making it nearly impossible to keep from reaching out and clasping her in his arms once more. This time he would never let go.

It was quite possible she had read his mind, because she took a half step back and glanced around at the passersby who were either too drunk or too caught up in their own lives to pay them much mind. “The admiral and his men could return at any point and I would rather not have my reputation ruined by being caught kissing a poorly dressed earl down by the docks.”

She sounded so prim and proper that he nearly laughed. “You think I will ruin you?” He shook his head, temporarily at a loss because wasn’t that exactly what he’d been thinking before, that perhaps he could ruin her and force her into marriage?

As he wanted to have her for his own, he’d prefer not to be shackled to a woman who wanted to murder him for the rest of his life. Clearly another tactic was called for. He rubbed at his eyes for a moment. Focus, damn it. Now was not the time to be thinking about a seduction. He dropped his hand and scowled at her as he remembered what, exactly, they were arguing about. “You do not have to worry about my ruining your reputation,” he said. “Not when you make a habit of haunting the docks at all hours of the night.”

She rolled her eyes heavenward as though he were a nagging harpy. “I told you, I was not alone. I had a chaperone.”

“Who?” he demanded.

She ignored him as she continued with her own tirade. “Besides, I wouldn’t have been spotted by anyone—the admiral or the derelicts—if I hadn’t had to step in and come to your aid.”

He opened his mouth to protest. He didn’t need her help. He hadn’t needed it—but he couldn’t quite get the words out. She had helped him quite a bit. Perhaps he would have gotten through this scrape with the law without spending time in prison, but his actions would be watched and his name would be dragged through the mud. He’d lose his position as one of the more respectable members of the peerage and become a laughingstock. An arrest could have done as much damage to his family name as if his bastard heritage had been discovered.

Her smirk was back in full force. “As I said…you’re welcome.”

He growled again but this time out of desire rather than anger. Lord, but she was beautiful when she was pleased with herself. She was beautiful all the time, but her seductiveness reached dangerous levels when she knew it.

“So, you were here following me, I take it?” His gaze searched her features, searching for what he did not know. Some clue as to how much she knew or what she’d pieced together, perhaps.

She nodded. “That’s correct.”

He narrowed his eyes. “The fact that you don’t even try to deny it is worrisome.”

She lifted one shoulder in a prosaic shrug. “To you, perhaps. But I do not see the point in prevaricating, not when our cards are on the table.”

He arched a brow. “And are they on the table? I was under the impression we were still playing our little game, Henri.”

She gave him a saucy wink. “Come now, Alistair. It is time to come clean.”

It was her direct gaze, more than her words, that gave him a start. How much did she know? Too much, he guessed, by any count. The sight of some of the admiral’s men backtracking through the streets had him reaching for her elbow, steering her across the street. “I assume that’s your coach?”

“Indeed.”

“Let us talk there, shall we?” he asked, as he proceeded to guide her in that direction. “We wouldn’t want the admiral to find us in an even more compromising position, now would we?”

She arched a brow. “It is not I who need fear the admiral and his men, my lord.”

It was her use of his honorific that had him scowling down at her. Was it his imagination or had she said it with a hint of mockery? That was it. He needed to know what she knew and protect her from any further danger. With that thought, he nudged her in the direction of the carriage. They narrowly avoided a pair of drunken fools who swayed and sneered, and who would likely have picked their pockets if they hadn’t hurried out of their path. He threw open the door and stopped at the sight of Rodrick sound asleep on one of the seats.

He looked to Henri and she smiled up at him. “I told you I brought a chaperone.”

He made a gruff noise. “Yes, I can see how he would be wonderful protection.”

Her smile grew with amusement and for the millionth time he considered whether to yell at her or kiss her. Lord, but she was frustrating. She tilted her head to the side. “I would love to know what you are thinking right now, my lord.”

“No,” he said. “You would not.”

His thoughts had taken a decidedly delicious turn as he’d contemplated exactly how he could keep her safe once she was his. She might be amenable to staying safe at home if she were in his bed.

She blinked rapidly at whatever she saw in his features, but her smile never faltered. “Oh no, my lord, I most certainly would like to know what could bring this change upon you.”

He found himself returning her smile, affection and tenderness temporarily distracting him from all the trouble she’d caused and the danger she’d put herself in. “You,” he said softly, lifting one of her gloved hands to his lips. “Only you could have this effect on me.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, but she did not pull away. They stood like that for the course of several heartbeats, the connection that was always between them growing in strength and thickness until he could do nothing but kiss her. She rose up on her toes to meet his kiss and when she kissed him back with a passion and a need that rivaled his own, he groaned deep in his throat and pulled her tightly to him.

If Rodrick hadn’t chosen that moment to snore, he wasn’t sure how long he would have kissed her right there in the open doorway to the carriage. As it was, she pulled away, her gaze flickering to the left and right as she avoided his eyes.

“I don’t believe we were seen by the admiral,” she said.

He didn’t care if they were, but he knew better than to say so aloud. Not yet, at least. Instead, he helped her into the carriage. Henri sat on the far side of one seat as he sat beside her. They both faced the snoring Rodrick as though they were waiting for him to greet them.

When he did not, Alistair turned to her. “Henri, this must stop.”

“I agree,” she said.

He arched his brows. “You do?”

Pressing her lips together she nodded. “I do.”

He waited for her to speak again, afraid to believe his own ears and also…a little terrified she meant it. He wanted her to stop pursuing his secrets, but also, he had the most bizarre urge to share them with her. For the first time since he and Marcus had set their course—his brother faking his own death and Alistair taking over as heir—he was well and truly aware of how alone he was in this prison of his own making.

He’d spent his entire adulthood steering clear of anyone who might care enough to learn his truths, who might take an interest in his life, his livelihood, and his upbringing. And now, he’d found someone who’d sought that knowledge and he’d done everything in his power to drive her away.

As if reading his thoughts, she tilted her head to the side. “Thank you for all the flowers, Alistair.” He pressed his lips together, hating himself in that moment for all his former plans. Only the one he’d come up with tonight would suffice.

The plan that ended with Lady Henrietta Bloomfield as his wife.

Her eyes grew bright with intelligence. “Might I ask what your intention was with this decidedly blatant display of courtship?”

He didn’t answer immediately, but it seemed his fierce adversary did not need him to. She leaned back in her seat like a cat—there was even something feline and a bit frightening about her smile. “Do you want to hear what I think?”

He arched a brow in answer.

“I believe that perhaps you’d hoped that by making society believe we’re in some sort of entanglement, you could provide some security for yourself should I ever try to spill your secrets.”

He did not answer. Damn, she knew him too well. She tilted her head to the side. “I don’t expect you to admit to it, but my guess is you’d also thought about the other means by which you could gain the upper hand.” He did not so much as blink, because of course he had.

She narrowed his eyes. “Were I to harm your reputation you could ruin mine.”

He knew better than to protest because she was right, of course. It had occurred to him he could spread lies and ruin her if provoked. But now he knew he could never have done it—not even for his brother, and certainly not for himself.

“I had rather hoped it would not come to that,” he said quietly.

Her lips quirked up in amusement. “I hope not as well. I rather like being welcome in society. But…” She left off with a shrug and a little moue with her lips as if to say she would not be too distressed were she not welcome either.

He let out a humorless laugh. “I should have known that a little threat like being ruined would not deter you.”

She grinned, the sudden flash of teeth a surprising jolt to his chest. “Indeed, you should have. I thought you knew me better than that.”

He shifted until scant inches separated them. “I’d like to know you that well.” He noted her surprise and relished it. “I’d like to know you better than anyone else.”

Her gaze narrowed as she leaned in closer. “Now what are you playing at, Alistair?”

He reached out and tugged gently at one of those perfectly coiled blonde locks. “I never play, Henri. I thought you knew that about me.”

“So this trip to the docks was all for business then,” she said.

He arched a brow in surprise at the sudden shift in conversation. “Are you trying to trick me into revealing my secrets?”

She lifted one shoulder and at the same time one corner of her mouth hitched up in amusement. “You might not play games, Alistair, but that does not mean I cannot have my fun.”

He leaned back in his seat to consider her. “What is it you want to hear?”

She shifted to face him better. “How about the truth? After all, I did save your hide back there. I think I deserve to know why.”

He toyed with the idea. He shouldn’t, but he did. Once again the thought of sharing his deepest, darkest secrets held some sort of appeal. “How about you tell me what you think you know.”

She arched a brow. “Now where is the fun in that?”

He grinned, despite the fact that his insides felt as coiled as her hair. Was he really doing this? “I will tell you if your suspicions are correct.”

She blinked. “You won’t.”

“I will.”

Tilting her head to the side she studied him. “And what do you expect in return?”

Smart girl. He turned and leaned forward until he was in her space, her scent threatening to cloud his senses. Hell, she’d already muddled his senses, that much was abundantly clear. “In return for the truth, I have a condition of my own.”