by Laura Landon
Before she’d finished her sentence, he took a step toward her.
“Why?” Several deep furrows darkened his features. “Did you think I would harm you?”
She tried to hide the unease that was enveloping her as she looked up at him. “How ridiculous,” she said, feigning indifference.
“Who else has hurt you?”
She swallowed hard. “No one.”
“Don’t lie, Miss Kingston.”
“I’m not. And I refuse to debate such an absurd presumption.”
“So you aren’t afraid of me?” he repeated.
Jenna felt her temper rising. “Of course I’m not afraid of you. It’s just that you make me feel—”
“How do I make you feel?”
Jenna averted her gaze from his questioning expression. How could she tell him that she was uncomfortable trying to cope with the unfamiliar emotions he created? Or, that she was afraid of how reckless she felt when she was near him. How careless.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked in what she knew was an accusatory tone.
“Doing what?”
“You know what. Ignoring the rules Society has placed on both of us. Acting in a manner totally inappropriate for a servant. Disregarding what is conventional by anyone’s standards.”
“Do you think I kissed you just to break the rules?”
“I don’t know why you kissed me.” She turned and walked to the end of the aisle. When she reached the open area, she stopped. “I don’t know why I allowed it,” she whispered, more to herself than to him.
“Don’t you?”
She spun back around. “Stop answering everything I say with a question! You have treated me with an undeniable lack of respect from the moment you walked into my home.”
Jack Hawkins had the good sense to lower his gaze as if he felt at least a hint of remorse.
“I apologize,” he said. “I seem to have overstepped my bounds yet again.”
Jenna experienced a sense of total defeat. She knew what she should do with Jack Hawkins, but she doubted she had the courage to do it. She had the good sense, however, to issue a threat.
“I spoke with Benton concerning you.”
“Did he suggest sending me back to London?”
Jenna shook her head. “Although he is wary of you as a stranger in our household, he is more than impressed with your ability. He says you will make an excellent employee.”
“Is that all he said?”
“No.” Jenna fisted her hands on her hips. “He also said you are blessed with an abundance of leadership qualities, you show above-average intelligence, and you are overconfident to the point of conceit. Those are the polite qualities I can repeat.”
“You consider conceit a polite quality?”
“It’s a feature I consider a step above snobbery and arrogance.”
“You think I’m a snob?”
“Cease with your everlasting questions!” she said, standing up to him with a flaring temper. “I am trying to politely tell you that although you possess the admirable qualities of intelligence and leadership, you also possess several flaws that are intolerable. The most blatant at the moment is the inability to know your place.”
“What place is that?”
Another question!
“I don’t know, Mr. Hawkins,” she said through gritted teeth. “Why don’t you enlighten me on that score? What exactly do you see as your place?”
“I prefer to keep my ambitions to myself, if you don’t mind.”
For the first time since Jack Hawkins had stepped out of the carriage that night a week ago, he looked uncomfortable with his situation. Jenna felt a sense of elation she struggled to explain.
“Oh, but I do mind. Since you’re a man always at the ready with another question, I’d like to hear at least one answer. What exactly do you see yourself doing?”
His eyes sparkled with a mischievous glimmer.
“Well, if you must know,” he said stepping up the aisle toward her, “I see myself—”
He stopped in front of her and Jenna backed up a step.
“Are you sure you want to know?”
He followed her as she took another step. Finally she had nowhere to go.
“N...no,” she stammered, realizing she knew his answer and wasn’t prepared to deal with what he intended to do. She shook her head. “No,” she answered. “I don’t want to know.”
“But I’d like to tell you.”
Jenna realized his intent but was powerless to stop him. He was going to kiss her and she couldn’t think of anything to say that would stop him. Nor was she sure she wanted to. She was so confused. For some inexplicable reason, she wanted his nearness more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life.
She went willingly when Jack Hawkins gathered her in his arms. She leaned into him when he brought his mouth down over hers.
His kiss was all-consuming, his lips firm and warm against hers. His mouth covered hers with lush intensity. She knew she should stand up to his advances but she couldn’t. She didn’t have the will to stop him.
She was like someone starving for what he alone had to offer. Instead of pushing him away as her conscience instructed her to do, she wrapped her arms around him and gave in to him.
His passion burned hot, his desire turned more demanding. And without verbal communication to tell her what he wanted her to do, he pressed the pad of his thumb against her chin to urge her mouth open. The moment she complied, his tongue entered.
The fire burned impossibly hotter inside her, matching the raging inferno that consumed her flesh. Again and again he kissed her, drinking deeper from her, demanding more from her. She didn’t know where the air came from for her to breathe. She was certain it must come from him and she anchored onto him as if he were her lifeline.
No, he was her lifeline. She knew it would be impossible for her to exist without him.
When she thought she could not take one more second of such intense passion, he lifted his mouth from hers as if someone had roughly pulled him away.
A cold blast of cellar air swirled around her and Jenna couldn’t think why she should be so cold when she still burned so hot.
She couldn’t catch her breath. But neither could he, it seemed. She pressed the side of her face against his chest as he gasped for air. His thundering heartbeats pounded beneath her ear.
Jenna tried to gather her thoughts and decipher what the voice inside her was trying so desperately to tell her. Her emotions were spinning in so many different directions it was impossible to understand what she was experiencing. She was as elated as she’d ever been in her life.
Yet, as terrified.
For a fragment of a second she was too euphoric to comprehend why she should feel such terror. Then the low rumble of his voice echoed beneath her ear and his words dealt her a horrid blow.
“What the bloody hell have I done?” she heard him say, and knew his words applied to them both.
Jenna gathered her strength and pushed away from him. He dropped his arms and let her go.
She couldn’t walk far. Her legs were too unsteady yet to make it any farther than the edge of the nearest wooden rack. She clasped her fingers around the rough wood and held tight.
“Lady Rutherford’s carriage will return in ten days,” she said when she had control of her breathing. “You will leave on it.”
“You’re sending me back?”
Another damnable question!
“Yes, Mr. Hawkins! I am sending you back.”
“But my month-long term will not be over.”
Jenna felt her temper soar. “Be thankful I’m giving you that long. If I had a carriage at my disposal at this moment, you’d be on your way back to London yet toni—”
“Is everything all right, Miss Kingston?” Benton’s quiet voice said from the top of the stairs.
Jenna looked up as Benton walked toward them. “Yes, Benton, everything’s fine. Mr. Hawkins and I were just having a discussi
on.”
Jenna doubted Benton believed her but perhaps he’d think her flushed cheeks were a result of an argument rather than the kiss she and Jack Hawkins had just shared.
“I came down to see how Mr. Hawkins was progressing,” Jenna said, stepping closer to the stairs. “Now that you’re back, I’ll return to what I was doing.”
“Very well, Miss,” Benton said.
Jenna rushed up the stairs. How could she have allowed him to kiss her? And for the second time.
She needed to escape. The look on Benton’s face said he knew something had passed between herself and Jack Hawkins.
Her fears were confirmed just before she closed the cellar door.
“If you ever lay a hand on Miss Kingston again,” she heard her loyal butler utter in the deadliest tone she’d ever heard him use, “I’ll send you back to London in pieces.”
Jenna rushed through the kitchen, then to the second floor. When she reached her bedroom she flung herself inside and leaned against the closed door.
The next ten days couldn’t go fast enough.
THE DEVIL’S GIFT by Laura Landon
Chapter 8
Jack waited until he was sure everyone in the house was asleep, then made his way down the back stairs. With each step he took, he mentally kicked himself for being such a blockhead.
Why the bloody hell had he kissed her this afternoon!
Damn him! He’d acted like a randy schoolboy who couldn’t keep his hands off the first pretty girl he found himself alone with. Except Jenna Kingston wasn’t the first pretty girl he’d ever met. And that was the problem.
Oh, she was pretty, all right. In fact, she was close to being one of the most beautiful females he’d ever met. But she was far from being a girl. She was a grown woman whose very nearness caused every nerve in his body to leap out of control.
Jack thought of the kiss they’d shared and wiped the light sheen of perspiration from his forehead.
Barmy bloke! Had he lost every ounce of common sense he’d been born with? A gentleman didn’t kiss a lady the way he had unless he entertained thoughts of matrimony. And marriage was the last thought he could afford—especially marriage to the daughter of the man who’d more than likely murdered his brother.
Jack took the last few steps along the dark hallway and mercilessly chastised himself. Not only had he ruined any chance he had to develop a trust between Miss Kingston and himself, but he’d jeopardized his opportunity to discover the connection between Baron Kingston and Shad’s murder.
And all because he couldn’t control himself long enough to keep from kissing her.
Jack reached the bottom of the stairs and took the back hallway to the kitchen area.
Since arriving, he’d spent the wee hours of every night searching the rooms of the house. When he’d arrived, he’d been sure any evidence linking Baron Kingston to Sheridan’s murder would be found somewhere inside the house. Now he wasn’t so sure.
Why would Baron Kingston go to London and leave his daughter without any means to travel should she have the need to? Kingston Manor was several miles from the nearest village. What if some emergency befell her and she needed to seek help?
The more Jack discovered about Baron Kingston, the less he liked the man.
And the more he suspected him of murder.
Jack stepped out the back door and walked the path that led through Cook’s vegetable garden. He stayed in the shadows as much as possible, only darting into the open when absolutely necessary. He’d have preferred a cloudy nighttime sky with the moon hidden behind a thick blanket of gloom rather than the thick blanket of stars that twinkled overhead.
The only alternative was to wait until conditions were more favorable, but he refused to do that. His actions this afternoon had impacted the time he’d have to search for evidence that would link Kingston to Shad’s murder. He had to move quickly, before Miss Kingston exiled him. And he knew she would.
Investigating the stable tonight was too important. Miss Kingston had piqued his interest this afternoon when she admitted her father had left her without a carriage.
Perhaps there were no carriages because the baron didn’t want there to be a need for his daughter to go to the stable.
Jack hastened his footsteps. Of a sudden, he was sure he’d find something incriminating once he reached the barn.
He crept stealthily across the cobbled yard, then lifted the thick board that barricaded the double doors. With a strong tug, he opened one of the doors and slipped inside.
It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness and while he waited, he listened for any sound that might come from the horses. All was quiet.
He breathed in deeply, expecting to smell the pungent odor of horseflesh but his nose picked up none of the familiar warm, musky scents.
A niggling confusion stirred inside him and he lit the lantern he’d brought with him and lifted it high. Obviously, he did not expect to see a carriage, for Miss Kingston had already made it known her father had removed them all. But surely the man had left her a horse to use should an emergency arise.
Jack walked down the central alleyway looking in one empty stall after another.
“The horses are gone,” a low voice said from behind him.
Jack spun around and lifted his lantern so it shone where Benton stood.
“Except for Dancer,” he said, pointing back into a stall on the opposite side of the barn. “I thought it best to keep at least one animal here in case we needed it.”
“That was wise,” Jack said, hooking the lantern over the nearest nail. It suddenly seemed important to have both hands free.
Benton stepped out into the alley between the stalls and lifted the old flintlock he held easily in his right hand. One look had Jack breathing a bit easier. The single shot breech-loader was good for bringing down a pigeon, but not much else. Still, it made him uneasy. Benton didn’t point the gun at Jack, but simply rested the barrel against the crook of his left arm.
“There’s a wooden box beside you,” Benton said, nodding to Jack’s left. “Why don’t you make yourself comfortable so we can carry on a friendly conversation?”
Jack looked at the box upon which Benton wanted him to sit. When Jack didn’t move immediately, Benton lifted the rifle just enough to convince Jack to do as he was instructed.
“Now,” Benton said when Jack was seated, “why don’t you tell me why you came out here.”
“I couldn’t sleep—” Jack started to answer, but the quick movement of the rifle to the center of his chest cut off his lie before the words left his mouth.
“I have to put in a long day tomorrow, Hawkins. I’m going to get very little sleep as it is, thanks to you. So don’t make me angrier than I already am.” Benton shifted the rifle in his arms. “What are you searching for?”
Jack tried to look surprised. “What makes you think I’m searching for something?”
“It’s what you’ve spent every night doing since you arrived. I don’t imagine you’re doing anything different tonight.”
Benton’s words struck him like a blow to the gut. If he’d watched him while he searched a different room each night, that meant he’d probably seen the kiss he and Jenna had shared. “And you didn’t stop me?”
“Why would I stop you? You were searching each room. Not stealing. I was interested in what you were looking for.” He took another step closer. “I still am.”
Jack tried to look bored. He knew it probably wasn’t working, but he thought his best bluff was to seem confused by what Benton was accusing him of. “I wasn’t searching. I just wanted to see what Society people kept in their locked rooms.”
“I asked you not to waste my time,” Benton said, the tone of his voice growing more irritated.
Jack was smart enough to know when he’d come up against someone with above average intelligence. Benton was definitely in that category.
“You’re right,” Jack admitted, making a decision he knew would eithe
r give him an ally...or get him killed.
He stood. If Benton moved the rifle, Jack wanted the advantage of being on his feet.
“I am looking for something.”
“What?”
Jack shrugged. “That’s my problem. I’m not exactly sure.”
“That’s not the best reason I’ve ever heard for searching someone’s home,” Benton said, tightening his grip on the rifle.
Jack stepped closer to the nearest open stall in case he had to move quickly. “It’s the only reason I can give at the moment.”
“Who are you working for?”
“What makes you think I’m working for someone?”
“You’re wasting my time again, Hawkins. Who are you working for?”
Jack hesitated.
“Who?” Benton repeated.
“Someone very interested in finding out what Baron Kingston is involved in.”
“Baron Kingston?”
Benton actually seemed surprised, a reaction that confused Jack.
“What makes you think Baron Kingston is involved in something worth investigating?”
Jack shrugged but kept his silence. He’d volunteered more information than he should have as it was.
“Are you suggesting Kingston is involved in something illegal?”
“It’s possible,” Jack said.
“It’s not,” Benton countered.
“You seem awfully sure of yourself.”
“I am. Have you ever met the baron?”
“No, but I don’t see where that would make a difference. Perhaps because you know Kingston, you’re more blind to what he’s involved in.”
Benton lowered his rifle to let the butt of the gun rest against the hard-packed dirt floor of the stable. Jack took the opportunity to ask another question. “How long have you worked for Kingston?”
Benton hesitated, then relaxed his features as if deciding that answering Jack’s question wouldn’t do any harm. “A little more than two years.”
“That’s about the time Miss Kingston started taking in street girls to train, isn’t it?”
Benton shrugged his shoulders. “About.”
“Did Miss Kingston’s aunt have anything to do with you coming here?”