Chapter Twelve
Stanwyck’s words cut through Sophie. He was on to the truth but she had no reason to trust the man.
“Ridiculous,” she scoffed.
“Those men set upon you with a highly specific purpose. I’d wager their employer is no petty criminal.” He eyed the velvet bag tethered to her wrist. “Anyone with the blunt to maintain a coach of that quality has no need of the meager funds they’d find on your person. What reason might they have to come after you?”
She glanced away, debating how much she could safely reveal. “I believe the bloke desired a consultation.”
“A consultation? Surely you don’t expect me to believe that.” He cupped a hand against her cheek, gentle and protective. “Tell me the truth, Sophie. You’ve kept your chin high, a credit to your strength of will. But you can’t hide the fear in your eyes. Not from me.”
She steeled herself. Stanwyck was so much easier to resist when he was playing the pompous boor. He had no right to expect the full truth from her, given the charade he’d played—and rather badly, at that.
“Of course I felt fear tonight. I still do. I’d be a fool not to be frightened after what happened.”
“You showed great courage, Sophie. You might even have found a way out of the situation. But your next encounter with those bastards may be a different situation. There was nothing random about this attack. You were targeted.”
She took a step in retreat, then another. When she pulled in a breath, the air filled her lungs, soothing her tightly strung nerves, and shoring up her resolve.
“I do appreciate your assistance, but none of this is your concern.”
“I’ve decided that it is.” He reached for her, taking her hand. “I’m not going to hurt you. You bloody well know that. God knows if I’d wanted to, I might’ve indulged a wicked fantasy or two when I had you to myself in that gaudy hotel room.”
Wicked fantasy. Good heavens, the man was infuriating. If only his words did not seem a fresh temptation.
“I would’ve screamed.” She affected a prim tone.
“I don’t think so.” A smile curved his mouth. “You’ve no talent for playing the defenseless damsel. I imagine you would’ve found something or other to cosh me over the head with… As I recall, there was a gold-leafed vase that would’ve done the trick.”
Blast the man. He shouldn’t look at her like that, as if there was something between them other than a game of cat and mouse, the rules of which neither understood.
She folded her arms, tilting her head at an appropriately haughty angle. “So, you admit your restraint had nothing to do with your high principles?”
“How many times must I remind you that I am a scoundrel?”
His hand curved around her elbow, and he led her away from the shadows of the tavern toward his club.
“The coach bore a rather unusual symbol, a crest I’ve seen somewhere before.” Gavin shattered what had been a moment of comfortable silence. “As observant as you seem to be, I’m surprised you did not take note.”
Drat the man and his persistence. Did he think to wear her down into a confession of sorts, to admit that the rotter who’d accosted her had done so at the behest of some mysterious—and evidently, powerful—man?
“I was a bit…preoccupied. In any case, I see nothing mysterious about the presence of a carriage on a public street.” The lie came easily enough, even as her stomach did an anxious twist. She had indeed spotted the emblem. It had seemed little more than a blur as the coach sped away, but that was all it had taken to cement the conclusion that whoever had sent the blighters after her was a person of high standing. Perhaps even a member of the nobility.
His brows lifted so slightly a casual observer would likely have missed the gesture. But its meaning was all too clear to Sophie. He saw right through her.
“It would appear you were being summoned. And I highly doubt the person who dispatched those jackals wished to extend an invitation to high tea.”
“Such intrigue,” Sophie scoffed. “As I understand it, the pale weasel sought to arrange a sitting for his employer. Perhaps I should recount my harrowing experience for some sensational magazine. The Case of the Menaced Medium has a bit of a ring to it.”
They approached the gleaming ebony carriage that waited steps beyond the Hound and Fox. There was no sign of Stanwyck’s driver.
To her surprise, he smiled. “I suspect Avery has taken another opportunity to share his lady’s company. I’d sent him on with the coach when I came to investigate what was going on outside the tavern.”
“Precisely how did you know where to find me?”
“I didn’t.” His words bore the ring of truth. “On the way to my club, I heard voices in the alley. When I realized you were there, I knew I’d need to surprise the bastards. The carriage noise would’ve tipped them off. I instructed Avery to proceed here with the coach and occupy himself however he saw fit.”
“As much as it pains me to admit it, I am glad that you came along when you did. The situation was becoming rather an ugly one.”
“You showed quite a bit of spleen. The rotters should have known they wouldn’t best you.”
Was that a note of respect in his tone? Would he ever fail to surprise her?
“Actually, I’d found myself in a bit of a pickle. Chivalry is evidently one of your better qualities.”
“Impossible. I do not possess a chivalrous bone in my body.”
“Must you always be contrary?”
“It is a trait that has served me well.”
“Regardless of your chivalry or lack of it, you have my gratitude.”
A wolfish smile curved his lips. “In that case, I say I am due a fair reward.”
“I’d think my appreciation should suffice.”
He shook his head slowly as he drew her to him. “Once again, I find myself taking a contrary view. I propose a far more satisfying prize.”
…
Gavin searched Sophie’s face, taking in the small nuances of her reaction to his statement. Damn that stiff, razor-edged seam she formed with her delectable lips. He’d half a mind to kiss her just to see if she could keep her spine so rigid when he teased a response from her beautiful body.
Bollocks. Rigid was exactly the word to describe his condition at that moment. He forced himself to tear his focus from her mouth. The delicious warmth in her immense brown eyes didn’t help his condition a bit, especially when she veiled them with her lashes, almost, but not quite, shy.
She is a manipulator, he reminded himself harshly. A bloody actress, skilled at making a man believe any lie she conjures.
The tense set of her mouth relaxed into a sweet temptation. She was bloody delectable. Nearly irresistible. Perhaps he’d knock her off-kilter again, just a bit. He hadn’t lied when he’d told her his challenging kiss in the hotel was only the beginning. This time, he’d up the stakes. He’d see precisely how skilled an actress she was…or wasn’t.
…
Sophie had long wondered how Pandora felt when she’d opened the forbidden box. The moment Gavin Stanwyck’s lips touched hers, she knew.
His mouth glided over hers with luxurious ease. Pleasure coursed through her body, blending with shock at his audacity. Such an arrogant man. How dare he kiss her…again! How dare…
Liquid warmth swirled through her veins. His kiss melded gentle possession and masculine conquest, sweeping her away in a current of longing. Despite the indignant voice deep within that insisted she should not allow such liberties, she clung to him, seeking his strength and his scent and the decadent taste of his mouth. She tilted her chin higher, meeting his caress.
His kiss earlier that night had been a sweet, heady indulgence. But this…this kiss seemed a possession—body, heart, and soul.
She reached up, threading her fingers through his hair, drinking in the feel of him. Parting her lips in leisurely exploration, he slid his hands over the curve of her hips, holding her to the long, hard plane of his body. His low moan sent a little thrill coursing through her. So, the conquest was not his alone.
He dragged her closer, kindling a firestorm deep within her. She should pull away. She should mark his face with the slap he richly deserved.
If only the feel of his body against hers did not conjure such a delicious yearning. She glided her fingers over the well-honed definition of his shoulders, his lean, powerful biceps, the sleek muscles of his back. His erection pressed into her belly. Desire heated her skin. Ah, his touch was so very intoxicating. Pity she did not dare to fully surrender.
Another moan escaped him, deep in his throat, betraying a need he couldn’t disguise.
So, he’s been caught in his own snare.
She clung to him, ridiculously pleased by the thought.
The pressure of his mouth against hers eased. He stilled. And then, his hold relaxed, slowly, reluctantly. His hands fell away, and he drew in a long breath. He rubbed his jaw as he studied her, silent for the span of several heartbeats, as he seemed to consider his words.
“Well, then, that’s more like it.” His voice was lower, huskier than before he’d kissed her. But the look in his eyes made it clear he’d endure a night in the vilest of dungeons rather than admit the effect she had on him. “A proper reward, I’d say.”
Sophie swallowed hard. She wasn’t sure which had sent her reeling—the potent hunger he’d unleashed or his callous words. She retreated a step, then another. She wanted to drop her gaze, to look away and never again take in his handsome countenance. Instead, she faced him, forcing her features into a placid mask. She’d been a fool to let down her guard. She would not allow him the satisfaction of seeing how deeply he’d impacted her suddenly vulnerable heart.
“Yes, I’d say that should do it,” she said, her voice throaty. “Fair compensation for slaying a dragon.”
His mouth curved into something not quite a smile. “Indeed.”
A quiet throat-clearing announced Avery’s presence. He ambled toward them. Tipping his hat, he offered a pleasant greeting.
“I presume your lady is in good spirits this evening,” Stanwyck replied.
“Ye might say I put a smile on her face,” Avery said with a grin. He turned to Sophie. “My apologies, miss. I’ve no business forgetting my manners with a lady present.”
“It would take far more than that to shock me. You’ve no need to censor yourself on my account.”
“Thank ye.” Avery shifted his attention back to Stanwyck. “I trust ye did not encounter any difficulties with the situation.”
“Nothing beyond the expected.”
“And the ruffians?”
Stanwyck shrugged. “I imagine they’ve slithered back to the gutter.”
“Well done, sir. Are we to proceed to your town house?”
He shook his head. “We will transport Miss Devereaux to her residence, a boardinghouse on Charing Cross. I’ll signal when we approach the building.”
“Very good, sir,” Avery replied.
Taking her hand, Gavin assisted Sophie into the carriage. To her surprise, the simple touch heated her skin.
Avery waited until Gavin entered the carriage and seated himself on the opposite bench, then closed the door behind him.
“Well, Miss Devereaux, what shall we discuss now? Any chance Esme is hovering around?” His tone sounded flippant, but there was no denying the passion flickering in the depths of his indigo eyes.
Sophie pulled in a breath. Two could play his game. If he wished to pretend he’d been unaffected by what had just happened, she could bloody well do the same.
“Esme is not a voyeur. She’s far too discreet to spy on a kiss, no matter how tame it might have been.”
“Tame?” He leaned toward her. “If you’re inclined to engage in a more adventurous endeavor, I’d embrace the challenge.”
“While your kiss was somewhat tempting, I’ve no interest in joining the ranks of your conquests.”
One brow crooked. “Somewhat tempting? You do know how to wound a man.”
Sophie bit back a smile. “You’ve no idea, Professor Stanwyck.”
His eyes darkened. “You intrigue me, Sophie. You draw in a man and tempt him to his limits without even trying. Seducing you would be a rare pleasure. But one thing is certain—even in the face of surrender, you would never be a mere conquest.”