A Perfect Hero (12 page)
“I do believe you’re enjoying this!”
He quirked a brow. “I do believe I am.”
“I suppose you will offer no apology this time either, will you?”
“My dear Julianna, in my defense, I can only say that I am a man. And you are truly a vision the likes of which I’ve never seen before.”
She flipped her plait over her shoulder. “Do you think you can turn my head with such talk, sir?”
“Well, you’ve certainly turned mine.”
“I beg your pardon?”
He accorded her a lazily rakish smile, his gaze drifting briefly to her breasts. “Clearly I was mis
taken when I called you a puny little thing.”
She sputtered. “You—you!”
He chuckled at the tide of color that turned her cheeks the color of a new spring dawn. “Oh, come. You are hardly clumsily made.”
“I should leave you to fend for yourself!”
“No doubt you should,” he agreed. His gaze captured hers. Softly he said, “But if I had the chance to choose my nurse, it would only be you, kitten. And I meant what I said. You are truly a most enchanting vision.” His gaze roved slowly over her features. Her lips were softly parted, pink and moist. “Are you aware your eyes change color with the sway of your mood? I never knew there were so many lovely shades of blue.”
She blushed again—but this time with plea
sure, he noted.
Her gaze skidded away. Her hands clasped to
gether before her, a nervous gesture. “I... ah, I
believe it’s time to see to Percival.” She darted outside.
And indeed Julianna was nervous. Oh, it wasn’t that she was afraid of him. Perhaps she should have been, she realized. She was alone with a stranger. She knew nothing of his past. What she knew of his present circumstances was most reprehensible! Had another woman recounted the events of these past few days, she would have expected her to be reeling with fear.
What she felt was far different. What she felt was something she’d felt with no man, not even Thomas. When Dane was close, she was seized with a near-painful awareness. She couldn’t seem to think straight. She should never have allowed him to kiss her. She most certainly shouldn’t have kissed him back! But she had...and she didn’t understand it.
Any more than she understood why she was still here.
Outside the day was warm and bright, the sun a rich buttercup yellow as it poured through the treetops. In truth, she needed a moment to collect herself. To no avail, for he followed her outside.
Julianna did not speak as she fed Percival; it was Dane who hefted the bucket of water from the well and carried it to Percival’s stall.
“He likes you,” Dane commented, when Perci
val thrust his nose beneath her hand.
Julianna glanced at him. “You sound sur
prised.”
“He can be a monster,” he admitted. He watched her for a moment. “I must thank you for taking such good care of him for me.”
Julianna glanced at him sharply. Was he chiding her? Judging from his expression, it appeared not.
She rubbed the animal’s velvet nose. “Perci
val,” she said casually. “A noble name for a noble animal. Did you name him?”
“I did.”
“Why Percival?” she asked.
“It’s said that Percival was so quick he could spear a bird in the wing with his javelin. I thought it a fitting name, for he’s truly as fleet as the wind.”
“You must be well-read if you are so familiar with King Arthur and his knights. But I daresay, it is an odd choice of name for a highwayman, is it not?”
Dane’s smile froze. He went very still.
“And indeed, I am given to wonder where you acquired your education.”
He went silent, turning and walking back in
side the cottage.
Julianna was right behind him. “Did you not hear me, sir?”
“There is nothing wrong with my hearing, lady.” His tone was cool, his expression equally so as he faced her.
“Then why do you not answer?”
“You are remarkably persistent, aren’t you?”
“Sometimes annoying, according to my brothers.”
“Brothers? You have more than one?”
“I have two, Sebastian and Justin. But we weren’t talking about me, Dane. We were talking about you.”
Standing near the rough wooden table, he eyed her. “Your point, Julianna? I trust there is one?”
Taking a deep breath, she faced him squarely. “Only this, sir.” She picked up his free hand, turning it over in hers, running her fingers over the tips of his. “I do not believe you are a man of humble origins. These are not the hands of an or
dinary laborer. You are neither uncouth nor un
civilized. Therefore, I must deduce that you are anything but common. Perhaps you are even a gentleman.”
Nor was she done. She gestured to his boots. “Those, I would venture to say, are made of the finest leather.”
“Clearly my efforts are not without fail then.”
“Indeed,” she challenged. “Nonetheless, I think you are an educated robber.”
“But of course. If I were not intelligent,” he re
torted, “I’d have been caught by now. Besides, what can I say? Being a highwayman can be a lu
crative trade.” He pointed to the two bulging
bags sitting in the corner. “There’s a great deal of
money in those.”
“Yes, so I’ve seen.” Mercy, he was boasting!
He gave her an assessing gaze. “Ah, yes. I’d forgotten you liking to snoop in things that are not yours.”
Julianna glared. By Jove, she would feel no re
morse!
But in the next second, everything changed. He walked over to the fireplace mantel and picked up one of his pistols. She couldn’t look away as lean, dark fingers slid almost caressingly along the smooth metal of the barrel.
Her stomach did a peculiar flip-flop. “What are you doing?”
“I have a proposition for you, kitten. Would you like to learn how to shoot?”
Julianna’s gaze jerked upward. He was watch
ing her closely. “What?”
“Perhaps then, the next time you take aim at my heart, you won’t miss.”
An angry hurt welled inside her. “Oh!” she cried, “must you taunt me? You know very well that’s a perfectly horrid thing to say!”
“Come. What do you say? I’ll show you how to shoot.” His gaze drifted deliberately down. A faint smile curled his lips. “Unless,” he offered casually, “you can think of something better to do.” His gaze lingered on the thrust of her
breasts beneath her gown before coming back up to tangle with hers.
She caught her breath, suddenly steaming in
side. “I take that back!” she told him heatedly. “You, sir, are clearly no gentleman.”
he
sharp blast of a pistol reverberated through the clearing. “Kitten”—he laughed—“you are abominably bad.”
Julianna muttered under her breath, glancing in vexation at the piece of paper he’d nailed to a tree trunk. She was not particularly comfortable handling the weapon, but it no longer felt so alien in her hand. And after the first few shots, she was no longer closing her eyes—but that was probably due to Dane’s prodding.
As for him, his nearness was distracting. Dis
turbing. And he was coming deliberately close, brushing his fingers against her bare arm, curling his fingers around hers for far longer than neces
sary. She was quite certain of it. And once again he eased close, pressing his chest against her back as he helped her sight the weapon.
“Ready?” he asked.
She nodded, even as she struggled to regain control of her senses. Her attention constantly wandered when he was near—no wonder she found it difficult to concentrate!
Yet another shot went far wide of the trunk of the oak tree.
He gave an exaggerated sigh. “I begin to fear this is hopeless. You did not tell me you were in need of spectacles.”
Julianna shot him a supremely glacial look.
“If I hit the target—” She posed the question quite sweetly as he primed the pistol. “—will you answer my question?”
“I will.”
“And if I hit it twice, will you answer two?”
He smiled and handed the pistol back. “Most assuredly.”
“And three?” she challenged. “Will you an
swer three questions?”
He chuckled. “I will,” he declared. “Though such a feat would surely be deemed a miracle.”
Oh, but he was confident. Cocky even! Clearly he had little faith in her abilities, which made Ju
lianna all the more determined to prove him wrong.
He nodded for her to proceed.
Julianna squinted at the target ...and hit it dead center.
He cocked his head. A black brow climbed high. “Impressive. But can you do it again?”
Julianna fired once more. It was a much easier task when she focused on the target and not his presence!
“Sheer luck,” was all he said when the next shot followed the same path as the first. A third followed, but the fourth missed its mark.
Still, Julianna had every intention of holding him to his bargain. “You are a man who can be haughty of brow and haughty of manner,” she stated, handing the pistol back to him. “I dare-say, a man accustomed to command. Therefore, I am given to wonder if you served in the war.” She watched him closely. “Did you?”
Something flickered in his eyes. At last he nodded.
“I knew it! Were you a hero?”
He appeared to hesitate. “Some say so,” he ad
mitted reluctantly, “though I call it loyalty to my country and my fellow soldiers.”
Julianna’s mind was off and running. So why, she asked herself, would such a man resort to be
ing a highwayman?
“I’ve told you about my family, my brothers. Even how my mother ran off. But what of you?
You’ve said you do not have a wife. Do you have other family?” She held her breath.
For the longest time she thought he would re
fuse to answer. Finally, he said gruffly, “My par
ents are dead. But I have two older sisters.”
“Ah,” she said lightly. “And what do your sis
ters think of their brother being the Magpie?”
His expression grew stormy.
Julianna sucked in a breath. “They don’t know, do they?”
“That’s four, kitten. More than your allot
ment.” He began to walk back toward the cottage.
“Wait! Is this cottage your home the year through?”
That brought him back around. “Now why would you ask that? I suppose you intend to lead the authorities back here when you leave!”
“How could I do that when I don’t know where we are?”
“How indeed?” He eyed her, a glance of little patience. “Are you coming?” he asked shortly.
“Yes. But I should like to know—”
He whirled, scowling blackly. “No more ques
tions, Julianna.”
Julianna
. Those occasions he had called her by her given name were rare. This was serious, she decided.
Her mind was troubled, her thoughts whirling, as she fell into step behind him. Something
wasn’t quite right about this man. Everything in
side told her he was not a man without principle. Without morals. Without conviction.
Yet that very same sense warned he was not what he pretended to be. He harbored secrets . . .
Of that, she was suddenly very, very certain.
Nigel Roxbury was pleased. He was
exceedingly
pleased that the Magpie had not made an appear
ance of late. Perhaps the fool had been caught in the act, and word of his demise had not yet reached London. Faith, but he prayed it was so!
He had been furious when several of his ship
ments had been stolen. And that wretched high
wayman the Magpie was responsible.
Leaning back in his chair, Roxbury adjusted the patch over his eye. He’d thought his plan quite ingenious. After all, he could hardly steal from the Royal Mint itself, and Boswell had been a skilled artisan! The currency looked remark
ably real. Most likely, the Magpie believed it
was
real, the fool!
Once the currency was produced, the distribu
tion was already in place. That was the beauty of it—the fact that
he
was privy to such informa
tion, by virtue of his position. No one was harmed, and the fruits of his labor afforded him the opportunity to buy what he could not other
wise afford—his pretty baubles from the sands of Egypt. Bogus currency in exchange for gold . . .
Of course there had been that messy affair with Boswell’s wife ...he was still amazed the Boswell bitch had possessed the effrontery to try to turn him in! A pity about the two of them.
But now he had gained their share as well.
At last there was a knock. He couldn’t quite hide his satisfaction as he opened the door to his visitor.
“
Madame
, I’ve been expecting you. What have you for me?” He delved through the box she car
ried, lifting out a jar that had once housed the or
gans of the dead; it was topped with the head of a falcon. Turning it upside down, he shook it, his eyes glinting when she pressed a handkerchief to her mouth in distaste.
“Another splendid piece,” Roxbury praised, setting it on the table behind his desk.
She said nothing, merely regarded him through the silk of her veil.
“For pity’s sake, there’s no need to hide from me.”
She tossed her head but slid back the veil. “You lack your brother’s charm,” she informed him. “I must confess, I have been wondering how the devil you found me.”
“I did not go looking for you, my dear. Imag
ine my surprise when I saw that sketch of you in the Paris newspaper. It really was quite remark
able. How lucky that my memory did not fail me.
And how lucky I was that you continued your so
cial proclivities after your husband’s death!”
She held out her hand. “Is our business con
cluded?”
He retrieved a small pouch from his desk and dropped it into her palm. “For tonight it is,” he murmured lightly. “Pleasant dreams,
madame
.”
One week after she’d shot him, Julianna removed the stitches from Dane’s shoulder. But where the two of them were concerned—Dane and Julianna—tensions were mounting.
Lying next to her each night, it was impossible not to be aware of her beauty. Her voice was sweeter than the sun shining through the blackest night. Pure, bright, and untarnished. If it were up to him, he’d have said to hell with Phillip and Nigel. To hell with the world at large. He wanted to make slow, lingering love to her, take his time about it, bury himself deep and hear her moan— and make it last for hours. Hell, all night, if that’s what it took to satisfy his craving for her.
But something inside warned that just once would not do with the lovely Julianna. Just once would only sharpen his desire to feel her softness beneath him again and again and again.
Christ, this was madness. He had a job to do. An enemy to trap.
And the lovely Julianna was not a ninnyham
mer. She was smart and intelligent, compassion
ate and tenderhearted. He remembered her crying as she’d removed the bullet. He liked her hands on his body. But much to his vexation, she no
ticed everything.
He had to watch what he said around her. That much was clear. Damn, but it was growing harder and harder. Yet he couldn’t risk having her find out the truth about him. He couldn’t take the chance . . .
It had been a mistake to bring her here. He’d been a fool. Yet how could he have left her, knowing she might be hurt?
Her presence complicated things greatly—and in ways he could never have foreseen! She twisted him in knots, inside and out. And he would soon be well. What then?
He didn’t know. God above, but he didn’t.
Julianna was no less aware of Dane. She was drawn to him, drawn to him in a way that had never happened before. One day, her gaze re
turned to him, again and again. He sat before the fire, Maximilian in his lap. She watched, as if in fascination, as he idly brushed his long fingers through Maximilian’s silky fur. And she won
dered what it would be like to feel those lean-fingered hands stroking along
her
spine. Why, she might easily purr in sated contentment as Maximilian was purring
.. . .
No matter that he was stirringly handsome, he was a highwayman, destined for the hangman’s
noose. But that seemed not to matter when he’d kissed her.
He made no move to kiss her again, and... oh, though it made no sense, she wanted him to. Shewanteditwithevery fiber of hersoul, for when his lips touched hers, nothing else seemed to matter. Several times she caught him watching her, a brooding air about him that was unset
tling. What was in his mind? If only she knew. But alas, she would not ask—not after the way he’d snapped at her when she had deigned to question him.
Late one afternoon, she held the door wide as he carried a load of firewood in his good arm. He muttered a brusque thank-you as he passed by, but he did not return her regard. Julianna sensed his refusal to meet her gaze was deliberate. But his task was not an easy one. Carrying the wood with one arm proved awkward, and the topmost chunk tumbled from its perch and clattered across the floor.
Julianna was immediately on her feet. “I’ll get—”
“Leave it!” His tone was razor-sharp. Dump
ing the wood near the hearth, he tore off the sling and flung it to the floor.
Julianna was shaking her head in reproof. “Dane,” she scolded, “I don’t think you’re—”
“I believe I’m fully capable of judging what’s best for me, Julianna.”
Julianna clamped back a sizzling retort. Inside she was seething. Lord, but he was in a mood! Ig
noring him, she presented him with her back and straightened the bedclothes, determinedly ignor
ing him. She could hear him rummaging through the cupboard behind her.
When she turned back, Dane was tossing a length of linen over his shoulder.
“Going somewhere?” she inquired when he stepped toward the door.
“I’m going to take a bath in the stream.” It was almost a growl. He paused, his eyes glinting as he turned and paused, resting his uninjured shoul
der against the doorjamb. One corner of his mouth curled upward in a smile that was almost lazy. His gaze traveled her form from head to toe. “Does the idea appeal to you, kitten? Perhaps you’ll join me then.”
Oh, how she longed to slap his cheek! “Do not flatter yourself,” she snapped. “I would dearly love a bath. But you, sir, would hardly be my first choice of companion!”
In shock she heard her own words. In the after
math, she very nearly choked. What the devil had come over her? Sweet Lord, had she really just said what she had? She was appalled at her own daring.
And Dane was amused. “Kitten! I confess, I am intrigued. I should dearly love to know who your first choice would be. What a lucky, lucky man!”
Julianna shot him a withering glance. His smile widened. Apparently she’d managed to restore his good humor. And it was just like him to tease her about her own folly! “A scant quarter hour, kitten, and the stream is yours. Simply follow the path between the oak trees. You can’t miss it.”
Long after he’d left her alone, Julianna was certain her face was still flaming. She picked up his pocket watch, sitting on the table where he’d left it. Twenty minutes had passed. Where was he? she thought impatiently.
Fifteen minutes later she was pacing around the table. Panic struck a chord in her. He should have been back by now. Why wasn’t he? Perhaps he’d underestimated his strength. Perhaps he was unconscious. Maybe even hurt.