As the duke moved on to take a better look at the holdings within the display cases, Damien and Diana congratulated them next, even Diana seeming approve at the shop and its offerings. Juliet, Xander, and Annabelle had worked very hard with every little detail over the past three months, and Juliet herself had been astonished at the outcome.
Finally Arie approached, his gait measured, his expression contemplative.
“You’ve done well,” he said approvingly, and Xander nodded his thanks, although Juliet knew that he no longer sought Arie’s approval as much as he once did.
“Thank you, Arie,” Juliet said, dipping her head. “And thank you for giving us the money to begin.”
“It was yours,” he said. “I just recovered it for you. You’ve invested the rest of it wisely.”
Both Juliet and Xander had been astonished when Arie had suggested that they use the money left over from the stolen jewellery to start a new life for themselves. Then he had produced something else — the news that he had found her former friend, Mary. She had died shortly after she had left Juliet, and while she had accessed some of Xander’s savings, there was more than enough left for Juliet and Xander to start a new life for themselves. They could hardly believe it, and had suggested that they share it with the family to make up for the loss of half of the jewels, but Arie wouldn’t accept the gesture. And once Arie set his mind on something, there was no changing it.
Except in the matter of a certain relationship.
“I know you’ll do well for yourselves,” he said with a nod. “And I do appreciate the offer to assist when needed. In fact, there might be a… situation I could use your help with next month. But today is not the day for such discussions. Today is a day to celebrate how far you have come with this venture.”
He was about to walk away, but stopped, lifting a finger. “If you are ever in the need for additional items to sell, I might be of service.”
“Thank you, Arie,” Xander said with a tilt in his head, “but I think we will keep this business legitimate.”
“I never indicated that my items would be anything otherwise,” he said as he drifted away, and Juliet and Xander exchanged a look; Juliet rolling her eyes while Xander smirked.
The door creaked, and new customers arrived, this time people Juliet had never seen before. She walked over to greet them as Xander slid behind the counter to help anyone who might request it. Juliet noticed that even Annabelle peeked her head out from behind the curtain, and after awhile, when visitors began to come and go, remarking on the beauty of her designs — some purchasing, others promising to return — the hesitancy on her face began to flee, to be replaced by a look of wonder.
Later that afternoon, after the first crowd began to ebb, the door opened and in walked two couples, both dressed rather finely, although that was a given in this neighbourhood.
The one man seemed oddly familiar, although Juliet couldn’t entirely place him. On his arm was a slight blond woman, although her eyes didn’t seem to miss anything as she looked around the room. The other man held himself decidedly noble, his blond hair slightly long, the woman at his side nearly as tall as he, her hair dark and her eyes assessing.
“Welcome,” Juliet said with a smile. “May we help you with anything?”
The first man turned his sharp gaze toward her, and Juliet’s eyes widened as she realized exactly where she knew him from. She turned around to look at Xander with some panic, but the man held up a hand before she could say anything.
“We are here to browse, Miss Simpson,” he said, “not to arrest you. I promised you that would never happen. Besides, from everything we have been able to determine, there is nothing about this shop that is suspicious.”
The other woman asked to see one of the pieces behind the counter, which Xander agreed to warily before holding it up to her. Instead of trying it on or gushing over it like most women, she narrowed her eyes, pulling out a magnifying glass to inspect it.
“Old habits are difficult to be rid of,” the other man said with a shrug and an affectionate smile, and Juliet’s heart pounded. They were doing nothing wrong here — not this time — but it seemed there was at least one constable here in her store, who must be determined to prove her guilt.
Before she could protest, however, the woman straightened, then turned to the man who had eyes only for her instead of the jewel in her hand. “It’s a beautiful piece,” she said, “and quite real. Any woman would be lucky to have it.”
“And that woman shall be you,” the man said, even as she began to shake her head.
“Oh, I couldn’t—”
“Georgie,” he admonished, “you must remember that you are more worthy of gifts than any other woman in the world. Let me shower you with them.”
She nodded as he slipped the bracelet over her wrist, before approaching Xander to complete the transaction. Juliet watched on in wonder. Perhaps these people really weren’t here to arrest her after all.
“We’re not that bad,” the man she knew to be a constable said. “We admire you for getting back onto your feet and making an honest living. Best of luck to both of you.” He stopped for a moment before turning back. “Say, as it turned out, a good half of the jewels weren’t exactly jewels… I’m not sure you would know anything about that?”
Juliet and Xander exchanged a glance.
“I’m sorry, no, we had no idea,” Xander said with a straight face, and the constable nodded, although something in the quirk of his lips said he knew more than he was saying.
When the second couple had finished their business, they bid their farewells and left, Xander and Juliet staring after them in astonishment.
“What was that about?” Juliet asked turning to him, but he seemed as perplexed as she.
“I don’t know,” he said, “but it seems we ended up on the right side of the law.”
“Who would have thought?”
“Certainly not I.”
“Does that make you question our decision to help Arie now and again?”
Xander wrinkled his nose. “Not really. Does that make me a bad person?”
“If you are,” Juliet said, crossing the room toward him, wrapping her arms around his waist, “then you have me right beside you.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Xander said, placing a kiss on her nose.
“Neither would I,” Juliet said, moving her arms up to his neck as she leaned up to look at him. “Don’t you ever forget it.”
“How could I?” he asked, grinning down at her, “for I shall have you right there beside me to remind me.”
THE END
* * *
Dear reader,
I hope you enjoyed reading Xander and Juliet’s story! Wondering what might happen to Damien? You can preview the first chapter of his story, book three in the series, in the pages just after this one, or you can download here.
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* * *
A Prize Worth Fighting For
Thieves of Desire Book Three
When she fell into his arms, it was love at first sight.
A man who read books, who noticed a wallflower like her, who rescued her from an oncoming horse with ease? He seemed too good to be true. One fixed boxing match later proved he was just that.
Damien Hondros knows his role. He is the protector of the Hondros family, one of the most notorious in London. His role is to be the enforcer, the fighter, the man who speaks with his fist. But his role is at war with his true nature, as that of a peacemaker, of a man who would rather
spend his afternoon in a reading room than a boxing ring.
One woman seems to understand that. Which is probably why Damien finds himself drawn to Grace Mulberry. And while Grace knows that the fighter is all wrong for her, she can’t help her attraction to the other side of Damien, the gentle soul that only she seems to see. As a woman who has spent her life in the shadows, she is astonished that he not only notices her but pursues her. There must be a reason for it.
The clash between their families points to a forbidden love between them until Damien’s brother asks him to learn more about the Mulberry family business. Damien is unable to deny the request, but fears the day when secrets are revealed and trust betrayed -- unless their love is strong enough to prevail.
* * *
Chapter One
London ~ 1814
He wasn’t going to fit.
Damien shifted this way and that as he tried to miraculously shrink so that he could squeeze himself inside.
But he was out of luck.
He sighed as he lifted his head and gave up, hoping that, at the very least, his embarrassment hadn’t caught the attention of anyone else in the room.
He was sorely mistaken.
For a moment — just one moment — he caught the smile of a woman as she watched him, before she dipped her head and hurried away, no longer visible behind the marble post of the bookshop’s reading room.
He scratched his forehead as he took the small book in his meaty palm and rounded the corner, hiding deeper in the recesses of the room, behind another the white marble pillars, in the corner created by the multitudes of high rising bookshelves.
Damien’s usual seat was, unfortunately, occupied, which meant that if he didn’t find what he was looking for, he would have to abandon his quest for peace today. This was the only place he could find it. Well, not this building, exactly, but what the building offered him. Books. Stories. Adventure.
He certainly couldn’t lose himself in such literature at home.
His family may all have been well educated considering their upbringing — his eldest brother and father figure, Arie, had seen to that — but that didn’t mean that any of them spent their leisure time in such pursuits.
No, education was for one purpose only — to prepare them for the work that would be required of them as part of the Hondros family.
Damien lumbered over to the far corner, finally finding a sofa that would accommodate his wide girth. He settled in, propped up his feet, and lost himself in Captain Jack for the rest of the afternoon.
Some prepared for battle by envisioning the fight to come. Others warmed up their bodies, putting themselves through the motions of the fight. Still others physically prepared themselves to look the part.
But not Damien. Damien chose instead to forget everything that he was going to have to do, and live the life of someone else instead.
Tonight… tonight he would become the warrior he had been trained to be.
For now, he would take solace in the only time he could truly be himself.
* * *
Grace forced herself not to stare.
A man like him, so striking, so imposing, would never take a second look at a woman like her, so why even bother trying?
But she couldn’t help herself from peeking around the corner, spying on him as he relaxed into the sofa and opened the book in his thick hands. He had caught her watching him once already — she didn’t want him to notice again.
“Are you watching him again?”
Grace jumped before turning to her friend, Lydia, who sat next to her, sitting next to her with one eyebrow raised knowingly.
“I’m not watching anyone in particular,” she said, attempting nonchalance. “I am simply perusing the room.”
“Mmm hmm,” Lydia said, making it clear she didn’t believe anything Grace had said. “Which is why you have insisted that we visit at the exact same time every Friday, when a certain man just happens to be here, one who you cannot take your eyes off?”
“I—” Grace began to try to defend herself, but heat flooded her face. She had never been particularly adept at lying, and Lydia had known her for far too many years to be easily fooled. “I find him…” she paused, unable to put into words exactly what it was about this man that drew him to her in such a way. “Different.”
“Different.” Lydia snorted before rolling her eyes at Grace. “I love you, but I shall never understand you.”
“You wouldn’t be the first,” Grace said with a small smile. Her family most certainly never had. Her father owned a shipping company, and her three brothers had all found roles for themselves within the business in one way or the other. She, the youngest, was the only one who didn’t have a purpose, who found herself lost unless she had her nose within the pages of a book, where she could take on the thoughts and feelings of someone else entirely.
“Why don’t you go talk to him?” Lydia asked, crossing one leg over the other as she leaned back in her seat. They were currently ensconced in the corner of the bookshop’s reading room. Grace was trying to decide which of the four new novels she wished to take home with her, although truth be told she would likely finish at least one each day so she might as well pack them all up with her. Perhaps Mr. Moon would allow her an extra two.
“Talk to him?” Grace said, her mouth opening in a round O of horror. “I could never.”
“Why not?” Lydia said with a shrug, tucking one of her reddish curls back into her bonnet. Grace had always envied the magnificent hue, when her own dark blond locks were forever escaping their pins to fall limply around her shoulders. “It isn’t as though he is some fancy lord. He couldn’t be — not a man of his size, nor with knuckles so bruised.”
Grace followed Lydia’s words to the man’s hands. She had noticed how large they were but hadn’t seen the scrapes upon them. Lydia, ever observant, was absolutely right. Grace’s heart fell as she began to wonder how he had ever come by such marks.
“I have no wish to speak to him,” Grace said, shifting in her seat so that he was no longer in her line of vision, attempting to prove the truth of her words to Lydia. “I am here to spend a lovely afternoon with you and to borrow new books to bring joy to my week. That is all.”
“Very well,” Lydia said, as she returned her own stack of books. “If you say so.”
Grace nodded. She did. For there was one thing she had to remind herself. She would never be one of the heroines in her stories. And the more she remembered that, the better off and less disappointed she would be.
* * *
Damien let out a sigh of contentment as he finished the book and placed it down on the small table beside him. It had taken three visits to finish, but the three visits were well worth it. Now, what was it he had to do?
He rubbed at his forehead as he pulled his old pocket watch out of his jacket pocket, rubbing the scuff marks as though he could erase them before peering through them at the time.
A quarter to five. Which meant he had been here—a quarter to five! He jumped up, his heart beating fast. He was supposed to be at the ring by six. He should have been home to meet Arie by at least four o’clock. His brother was not going to be pleased, and Damien could only hope that he would still allow the fight to go forward. He began to rush out the door, belatedly remembering his book. He picked it up before rushing across the room, practically throwing it across the desk of Mr. Moon, the clerk, with a hushed “thanks” as he went by. His speed caused the door to fly forward, hitting a gentleman who stumbled ahead, upsetting a cart that had been parked nearby. The cart began to roll down the street, right into the path of an oncoming carriage. The startled horse reared up and pawed at the air, ready to come crashing down on a woman standing beside him.
It all happened so fast that had Damien been anyone else, he likely would have been able to do nothing but watch in horror as the woman was trampled.
But, despite his size, Damien had reflexes quicker than most. He didn’t even think. Instead, he
rushed across the sidewalk, not caring who he pushed out of his way in order to reach the other side. Somehow, he wasn’t sure how, he made it to her in time, wrapping his body around hers as he fell with her to the side, cushioning her from the ground as they rolled upon it.
Then, as much as time had slowed while he rushed toward her, it suddenly all began to move ahead once more and Damien realized where he was and what he was doing — lying on top of a woman he had never met before in the midst of dozens of onlookers on Piccadilly Street, books strewn around them as though a book cart had been upended.
When he looked down at the woman to ask her if she was all right, however, suddenly none of that mattered. For his gaze caught hers, and she was staring up at him with such supplication that he couldn’t turn his head away from those brown eyes that had caught him in their stare.
“Thank you,” she practically breathed, her eyes glistening. “You saved my life.”
“I… I did no such thing,” he mumbled as he became all too aware of her plush body beneath his. Most women were so small, so fragile that he thought he would break them even if he barely touched them. Not this woman. She was built as a woman should be built — all luscious curves that he could sink into and lose himself in.
He scrambled backward before she elicited further reaction from him, reaching a hand down to help her up. She placed her hand, enclosed in a practical leather glove, into his, allowing him to assist her. The two of them stared at one another for a moment before looking around them and then noticing the books strewn all over the ground. She broke the stare to look around them.
A Jewel for the Taking: Thieves of Desire Book 2 Page 18