London Ladies (The Complete Series)

by Eaton, Jillian

  “I am afraid you chose the wrong woman to rob from, my friend.” Hands raised as requested, Miles stepped forward into a shaft of revealing moonlight. Seeing him so exposed Dianna could not help but gasp and his gaze flashed to hers, the easy smile he wore tightening imperceptibly. “Take what you’ve collected in that sack of yours,” he continued, giving an obliging nod towards the burlap crumpled at the desperate criminal’s feet, “and be on your way.”

  Turning his head, the robber spat a thin watery stream of chewing tobacco onto the ground. “I want that necklace.”

  “Unfortunately, that particular piece is not available.” Although Miles’ voice was calm, his eyes were flat and hard as flint, and even though the robber was the one holding the pistol, Dianna could not help but feel a quick stirring of the pity for the man.

  Cagily shifting his weight from side to side the robber actually seemed to consider Miles’ suggestion before he spun in a half circle and, moving with a quickness Dianna could neither foresee nor defend, had her pinned in front of him, one arm looped tight around her throat. Squirming, she managed to throw a pointed elbow into his side before he restrained her, the hard forearm pressed against her neck squeezing until she gasped for breath.

  “Stop where ye are!” he snapped suddenly, and through the blur of tears in her eyes brought on by fear and the horrifying threat of suffocation Dianna saw Miles halt dead in his tracks.

  “If you hurt a single hair on her head-” he began, but the robber cut him off with an ugly laugh that sent shivers coursing down Dianna’s spine.

  “You’ll do what?” he taunted. “Shoot me? How about I shoot her, take what I want, and then shoot you.” Without waiting for a response he pressed the muzzle of the pistol against Dianna’s temple. Feeling the hard jut of metal pressing into her skull just above her left ear she whimpered; an animalistic sound of distress torn straight from her very soul. “What do ye think about that?”

  “I think you are a dead man.”

  The explosive sound of a firearm going off ripped a scream from Dianna’s throat. Feeling the criminal’s grip on her abruptly loosen she fell forward onto her knees and crawled blindly off the path, not knowing where she was going, only knowing that she needed to get away. Feeling a pair of restraining hands close around her waist she screamed again and kicked out behind her, limbs flailing wildly in a mad attempt to escape.

  “Dianna, stop. It’s me. Dianna, it’s me. Miles.”

  She heard his voice as though from a great distance, but when she registered who was speaking she collapsed onto the cool grass, slender arms trembling in exhaustion. “Miles,” she repeated in a ragged whisper.

  “Yes.” He picked her up with ease, cradling her against his chest as he’d done in the rain beneath the willow tree. She curled into him now as she had then, burrowing her face in the crook of his shoulder as belated sobs began to wrack her entire body. “Shhhh,” Miles soothed, rubbing her back in long, gentle strokes. “It is over now. It is all over.”

  Dimly she realized they were walking quickly away from the gardens. Glancing back she saw the robber sprawled on the ground, a pistol still held in one outstretched hand. “Did you-”

  “Shoot him? Yes,” Miles answered grimly. “Kill him? No.”

  “But how-”

  “Save your questions, love, and your strength.” In a more ominous tone he said, “You are going to need it when you explain why the hell you didn’t run when you had the chance.” He started to say more, then seemed to think better of it.

  Carrying her through a back gate in tight lipped silence, Miles climbed inside a waiting carriage without relinquishing his hold.

  Struggling into a sitting position on top of his lap, Dianna self-consciously held up her ripped sleeve when it slipped further down her arm, threatening to reveal her breasts. In the dark interior of the carriage she was fiercely aware of Miles, from his familiar scent - sandalwood and pine - to the possessive way he was staring at her to the hardness of his thighs pressing intimately against her derriere. “Where are we-”

  “I am taking you to your parent’s townhouse.”

  She blew out a frustrated breath. “Are you ever going to let me-”

  “Finish a sentence?” One dark brow lifted. “I haven’t decided yet.”

  The motion of the carriage began to rock them gently from side to side. With a quiet grunt Miles lifted her by the waist and set her beside him on the long bench seat, his expression shuttered.

  Crossing her arms over her chest Dianna turned her head away from him and looked out the window. It was too dark to make out the homes they were passing although she pretended to study them nevertheless, needing a few moments of silence to compose her thoughts and reflect on everything that had just occurred.

  Miles had risked his life to save her. More than that, she’s risked her own by refusing to leave him. What did it mean? Pressing her fingers into the window ledge she drew a deep, trembling breath. If things had ended differently… If Miles had been the one shot instead of the robber…

  “You are shaking. Here, use this.”

  Dianna held perfectly still while Miles shrugged out of his greatcoat and wrapped it around her shoulders. Easily three sizes too large it draped over her body like a quilt, enveloping her arms and reaching all the way down to her grass stained dancing slippers. Gripping the edges she drew the coat closed and sank back into the leather seat, her thoughts a twisted jumble as she directed her gaze to the floor.

  If Miles meant nothing to her as she herself had said, then why hadn’t she left with Readington? It would have been the safe choice. The intelligent choice. The potentially life-saving choice. So why hadn’t she made it?

  As though he could read her mind, Miles turned to face her. “You were a fool not to run when you had the chance. What the bloody hell were you thinking?” If the hard line of his jaw and his white knuckled grip on the edge of the seat were any indication he was positively furious; the angriest she had ever seen him.

  “I - I do not know.” Unable to meet his burning gaze Dianna looked down at her hands instead. One long satin glove was missing, she noted absently, and dirt had collected under her nails, no doubt from when she’d crawled across the lawn. Tears stung the corners of her eyes as she recalled the overwhelming fear she’d felt; not for herself, but for the man sitting beside her now. If something had happened to Miles… If something had happened to Miles she didn’t know what she would have done. And didn’t that tell her everything she needed to know? Everything she needed to know… and was terrified to admit.

  “You’re crying.” His voice gruff, Miles reached between them and awkwardly patted her knee. “I… Stop crying. It is over now.”

  But the tears wouldn’t stop. If anything they intensified, running down her cheeks as though someone had turned on a leaky faucet inside her head. “I can’t,” she managed, wiping uselessly at her face with the cuff of her palm. “I - I - I…”

  “There now.” Draping one arm around her trembling shoulders, Miles drew her against his chest. She went willingly, too exhausted, both mentally and physically, to protest the intimate embrace. Resting his chin atop her soft curls, Miles began to rhythmically stroke her knee in small, soothing circles. “There now,” he murmured. “It’s over. It’s done. There is no need to cry.”

  But for Dianna there was every need.

  Because she knew it wasn’t over, and it wasn’t done, and she feared it never would be.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Sitting in the gently swaying carriage with Dianna nestled against his chest, Miles could think of no other place on earth he would rather be. Everything he’d seen in the past four years, everything he’d learned, everything he’d experienced, paled in comparison to this one single moment.

  As Dianna’s sobs grew muffled and her breaths grew deeper he nodded through the glass divider for the driver to take them around the block of stately brick and stucco town homes one more time. It was selfish of him, but he wasn
’t ready to relinquish his hold on the woman he loved… at least not yet.

  Seeing Dianna with a pistol pressed against her temple and her eyes glassy with terror… He’d never known such fear. Even the memory of it was enough to send a chill down his spine, and his grip on her unconsciously tightened until she made a soft, mewling sound in her sleep.

  Little fool, he thought fondly as he pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head. She’d always had a secret stubborn streak - no matter how much she tried to deny it - but he’d never witnessed her bravery until tonight. The courage it must have taken for her to stand up to the robber and refuse him her necklace was nearly unimaginable and even though Miles wanted to wring her pretty little neck for being so bloody harebrained, he also felt an immeasurable sense of pride.

  It made him realize he wasn’t ready to give her up. Not yet and, if he had his way, not ever. They belonged together. After the events that had just transpired, he was sure of it. As sure of anything he’d ever been in his entire life.

  Now he needed only to convince Dianna of the same.

  Gazing down upon her sleeping countenance with her rose colored lips slightly parted and her lashes spread out like pale crescent moons upon her cheeks, Miles knew the battle to win her affections would be an uphill one. As innocent as she looked in slumber, the moment she woke her blue eyes would frost over and she would pull away from him, both in body and in spirit.

  He needed a way to get through the wall of ice she’d built around her heart. A way to melt her defenses and turn her back into the girl she’d been.

  As soon as the thought entered his mind, however, Miles dismissed it with an inward shake of his head.

  The girl Dianna had been would never have been able to look death in the eye without flinching. She wouldn’t have had the strength or the courage to stand up for herself, and although a part of his heart would always be dedicated to the girl she used to be, he wanted the woman she was now. A strong, resilient, independent woman. A woman with her own hopes. Her own beliefs. Her own mind.

  As children she’d relied on him for those things, and he’d found himself drowning beneath the weight of their combined dreams, unable to sustain them both when he so desperately wanted to make his own come true.

  Dianna began to stir, lashes fluttering. Her eyes slowly opened and for a moment, a moment so quick if Miles blinked he would have missed it, she gazed up at him with a love so pure it struck him like a lightning bolt inside his chest. Then recognition dawned, and love was replaced with wariness and distrust.

  “What happened?” She sat up and simultaneously slid to the side, moving as far from him as the bench seat would allow. Her gaze flicked to the window, then back to his face. “What… Where are we?”

  “I told my driver to take another lap around,” he explained, and even though he wanted to go to her, to wrap an arm around her shoulders and gently run his fingers through her tangled curls while she rested her cheek against his chest, he knew the moment for such tenderness had come and gone. “We should be at your townhouse very soon.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “Because you were sleeping and I did not want to wake-”

  “No, not that.” Eyes shimmering like sapphires in the moonlit carriage, she gave a hard shake of her head. “Why would you… Why would you risk your life for mine?”

  “Dianna.” Consequences be damned, Miles reached between them and captured her gloveless hand. Her skin was cold to the touch. He squeezed her pale fingers before he met her gaze and softly said, “Why wouldn’t I?”

  She pulled her hand free. It disappeared beneath the folds of his greatcoat as she crossed her arms and leaned away from him. “What are you doing? Why are you being so kind to me? You know how I feel. My mind has not changed. I - I still do not want you, Miles.”

  Mouth curving into a humorless smile, he parried her questions with two of his own. “Why did you not run for safety when you had the chance? Why didn’t you leave me?”

  “Because I… I…”

  “Because there is still something between us, and you feel it as much as I,” he said when she grew too agitated to complete her sentence.

  “No,” she said with a glare. “That is not true.”

  “It is,” he pressed ruthlessly. “Admit it, Dianna. You care for me now as you did then. Admit it.” A part of him recognized he was being a bastard for taking advantage of her in such a weakened condition, but the need to get her to admit her true feelings was all encompassing.

  Her bottom lip quivered. “No,” she whispered, vehemently shaking her head from side to side.

  “Yes.” He closed the distance between them until their thighs were touching and reached inside his oversized coat she wore like a protective blanket to gently grasp her wrists. She resisted, but his grip was unyielding. He forced her palms against his chest, pressing them flat over his pounding heart. “Do you feel that?” he demanded fiercely. “Do you?”

  “Stop it!” she cried. “Stop-”

  “It’s my heart, and it’s beating for you. Dianna, look at me,” he said when her chin dropped and her lashes flicked closed. “Damn you, look at me!”

  “And see what?” Slowly her countenance lifted to reveal blue eyes bright with tears and two angry splashes of color staining her cheeks a dull pink. “See a man asking me for something four years too late?” She shook her head. “I wish you had felt this way before. I truly do. But you didn’t.”

  Seeing the pain on her face, hearing it in her voice, caused the muscles in Miles’ abdomen to clench tight. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

  “I know.” Her hands flattened on his chest, fingertips lightly pressing. “I can accept that you left. I can even forgive you, for I finally understand why you felt the need to go. They asked so much of us, didn’t they? Our parents. Our friends. Society.” One side of her mouth lifted in a sad, regretful smile. “And I never stopped to think it would be too much. That was my fault, not yours. You were just a boy. A boy who had his entire future planned out for him before his tenth birthday. A boy who wanted to see the world and all it had to offer. A boy who wanted to make his own decisions so badly he did the only thing he could think of. He left. So I forgive you,” she repeated, her chest rising and falling as she took a deep breath, “but I cannot trust that you won’t leave again, and if I cannot trust you how can I ever love you?”

  Dianna’s words, so eloquently spoken, were like tiny barbs piercing his heart. Miles looked past her to the window and, noting they’d at last reached their intended destination, released her hands and slowly sat back. “We’re here,” he said gruffly.

  There was more he wanted to say. More he wanted to do. But any speech or action paled in comparison to what Dianna had said, and so he remained silent until she began to shrug out of his great coat. “Keep it on. There is a chill in the air.”

  Her brows darted together. “But it belongs to you.”

  “If we are not to be lovers, then surely we can attempt to manage as friends,” he said with a humorless smile. “And friends loan each other articles of clothing, do they not?”

  Miles could tell by the way the corners of her mouth tightened that she wanted to refuse him, but with a tiny sigh she reluctantly slipped her arms back into the oversized sleeves and drew the coat closed over her ball gown. “I suppose they do.”

  He waited until the carriage had come to a complete stop and the she was readying to depart before he spoke her name. When she turned at the sound of it he didn’t allow himself time to think, only to feel. Grasping her shoulders he yanked her hard against him. Thrown off balance in the tiny confines of the carriage she fell into his chest, arms instinctively wrapping around his neck to balance herself.

  In the shifting shadows he caught a glimpse of her eyes widened in bewilderment and outrage as she gasped, “Miles, what-”

  He silenced any protests she might have voiced with his mouth. The fingers at the nape of his neck tightened, pulling at his hair, but
he ignored the sharp tugs of pain in favor of the sheer mindless bliss of once again feeling her lips beneath his.

  As young, inexperienced adolescents their kisses had been tentative. Pecks of subdued passion that had always ended far too soon for Miles’ liking. Their kiss outside her bedroom window had served to ignite something inside of him he’d never felt before and now he let it take full rein as he buried his hands in her tousled curls and took what he wanted, holding nothing back. Like a ship meeting a wave he sank into her, his tongue boldly sweeping between her lips. When she bit him he growled like a wild animal, but did not relent.

  Finally, he thought, his mind already half gone. Finally I can taste her again. Touch her. Feel her.

  Dianna writhed against him, her tiny fists landing harmless blows on his shoulders and chest. Still the kiss continued, and when he would have finally ended it, when he would have finally drawn back, it was her hands cupping his face that held their mouths fused together.

  Their tongues met once more, hesitantly at first and then with a passion that left them both gasping for breath. He heard her moan as much as he tasted it and swallowed the tiny sound with a groan of pleasure. Even limited by their environment they fit perfectly together, their bodies instinctively twisting and moving until space was nonexistent between them.

  Shifting, he pulled her between his thighs, pressing her flush against the hardness of his erection. She leaned into him, teeth gently scraping his jaw before she found the sensitive curve of his earlobe and began to suckle. Any breath he might have still had in his lungs escaped in a whoosh of air as his spine arched off the seat.

  “Dianna.” He spoke her name as though it were a fervent prayer and she answered in kind before she pressed her soft mouth once more against his. His hands shoved inside her coat, thumbs brushing against the hard jutting point of her nipples. She threw her head back with a gasp, exposing the slender curve of her throat which his lips hungrily devoured before moving lower, dragging the tip of one breast into his mouth.