The Lady Who Knew Too Much

by Alyson Chase

  Chapter Thirteen

  “I think I was injured more by the rescue than I would have been by the rock.” Juliana rubbed her side as she gently stretched out her leg. Her knee hurt like the devil, and she knew she would be sporting several bruises the next day.

  They were in the sitting area of Brogan’s apartments, he deeming the agency’s rooms no longer safe as the assailant knew their location. After grabbing her few things, he’d bundled her back in the carriage and directed the driver to go to his home taking as many twists and turns as possible to avoid being followed. It had worked so well even Juliana had no idea what part of London she was in.

  Brogan held up the rock that had nearly taken her head off. It was the size of his palm.

  All right, maybe her minor aches and pains were little compared to what she would be feeling had she been struck with that boulder.

  She dug the pebble that had been harassing her for an hour from her slipper. She placed it on the side table. “The rock that saved me from a rock that would have killed me.” She sagged back onto the sofa. It was hard and the fabric worn, but she liked it. It reminded her a bit of Brogan. Rough on the outside but supportive. Safe.

  A tremor rolled through her. Someone had tried to kill her. And unless Pickens had escaped Newgate, it was someone new. Unknown. And that was the scariest bit of all.

  “I’ve never seen anyone use a sling before,” she said. “Is it difficult?”

  Brogan strode to a cabinet and pulled out a small box. He came back to kneel before her. “Swinging a rock around your head isn’t hard. Directing the rock to fly where you aim it is the part that requires skill. Your assailant was very skilled.”

  He gently took her hand and peeled down her torn glove. He blew on the reddened skin on the heel of her palm.

  A quivery, fluttering sort of feeling started in her belly and worked outward. His head was bent to his task, and she had the strangest urge to run her fingers through his dark tousle of hair. He obviously didn’t spend his money on a barber. Or his lodgings. She glanced around the nearly bare room again. But she preferred him this way. Blunt. Direct. No pretensions.

  “Perhaps you were the target.” Her voice came out a bit breathy, and she cleared her throat. He’d made it clear he didn’t want an affair. No use letting herself yearn for things she couldn’t have. “Perhaps the assailant wasn’t so skilled and the rock came toward me by mistake.”

  Brogan wet a rag with a bottle of alcohol he pulled from the box and dabbed at her scraped skin. “Perhaps. But the simpler explanation is usually the right one. You thought your family was targeted; this appears to be proof.”

  She winced at his ministrations. “I never thought I’d say this, but I wish I weren’t right. We need to get Pickens to talk to us. He’s our only lead.”

  Brogan moved to her other hand. “He’ll talk. To me. Tomorrow, I’m taking you to the agency’s offices. You will remain under the guard of one of my associates at all time.”

  “What?” She jerked upright, sucking in a hiss as her ribs protested. Pressing a hand to her side, she glared down at the infuriating man. “After all this, I thought we’d come to an understanding that we would work together. I don’t want to be hidden away.” She had never been one to be cossetted. Didn’t want to become only something Brogan needed to protect.

  Didn’t want to become useless.

  She had been given so many more opportunities than most women. It felt like a betrayal to her sex to sit back and allow someone else to resolve her problems.

  He frowned at her and pushed her back on the sofa. He pressed his hands to her side and felt along her ribs. “I remember no such understanding. My job is to protect you. You’ll stay in the office.”

  “Your job is to find the person responsible for the attacks against my father,” she reminded him. “And I’m the one who hired you. I get to dictate the terms of our relationship. Our professional relationship at least,” she muttered. He seemed to be the one in full control of their personal relationship, or their lack thereof.

  “And I can quit anytime I want.” He pulled back, seemingly satisfied she had no broken bones. “I will if you don’t act responsibly and stay in the office.”

  She bit the inside of her cheek. They would just see about that. He wouldn’t find it so easy to walk away from her case. As much as she annoyed him, he wasn’t the type of man who would leave her to her own devices, not when she was in danger. But as she’d learned, it was better to beg forgiveness than ask permission. She’d go to the office with him tomorrow… then leave after him and follow him to the prison.

  “Where else do you hurt?” he asked.

  “I’m fine.”

  He arched an eyebrow and waited. And waited. He truly was devilishly good at outlasting her patience.

  She sighed. “Fine. My hip is a bit sore, and I scraped my knee when I fell. But nothing serious.”

  “Your knee.” He looked at the body part in question as though he could see it through her skirts. He swallowed. “I’ll, uh, raise your gown just enough to have a look, shall I? Or I could call for a doctor?” He sounded much too hopeful for her liking.

  There was nothing wrong with her knees that should make him leery of seeing them. Any man would be lucky to see her knees. And, damn it, she’d make him realize that.

  “No doctor.” She dug the tips of her fingers into the material on her thighs and pulled it up an inch. He’d have to work for the rest. “You seem more than competent at treating minor wounds. I believe you said you used to box? Did you have to patch yourself up often?”

  He didn’t answer, not unless one considered a grunt as a response, which Juliana didn’t. So, he didn’t want to talk about his past life. Didn’t want to have an affair, and she didn’t think it was because he wasn’t attracted to her. There were a whole host of ‘didn’ts’ when it came to this man. He had walls thicker than a fortress.

  And Juliana wanted nothing more than to tear them down.

  Steeling himself like he would be uncovering something ghastly between her legs, Brogan eased her skirts up over her knees. He kept his gaze focused on the scraped and swollen skin, as though if he let himself look anywhere else, he’d turn into a pillar of salt.

  She didn’t know if it was anger at his attitude, the high emotions resulting from a near-death experience, or just her natural perverseness, but Juliana let her thighs fall open. Just a little. Just enough to relax her muscles. And set Brogan to grinding his jaws together.

  He pulled out the alcohol again and slapped the cloth on her skin with a bit more vigor than needed.

  She narrowed her eyes. “Do you have somewhere else you need to be? Another woman to tend to?”

  He looked up, startled. “No.”

  “Then perhaps you could slow down with that cloth. You’re rubbing more skin right off.”

  “Sorry.” He pulled the cloth away then blew on her knee. “I’ll wrap a bandage around it to help with the swelling. You should rest it for the next couple of days.”

  “It’s only some scrapes and bruises. I know you must have had much worse and still somehow managed to get on with your life.” She eyed the spread of his shoulders, the meatiness of his hands. Perhaps he hadn’t had to deal with much pain. He looked like he would have been the one inflicting it in the ring. But still, it was the principle of the matter. “How delicate do you think women are?”

  “Your kind are especially fragile.” He took a roll of linen from his box and shook it out.

  Juliana sat forward, putting her face in his. “My kind? Unlike the women in your social circle?”

  He didn’t answer.

  She threw out her hands. “I’m not a separate species just because I’m an earl’s daughter. I’m like any other woman of your acquaintance.”

  He snorted and began winding the cloth around her knee.

  Heat raced up the back of her neck. “Truly, your ignorance is impressive. People think clas
s bigotry only resides in the aristocracy, but they’ve obviously never met you. Why should you treat me differently than any other woman?”

  He knotted the linen and placed both his hands on her knees as he glared at her. “Why do you insist on pretending to be like one of the commoners? People are different according to their status. The rules are different. What do you think would happen if your father and brother found out I had dallied with you? They would rightfully come for my head, and I’d have to kill them defending myself. Do you want that?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Obviously not. But don’t you think you’re exaggerating just a bit? As I’ve said, I’ve had an affair before—”

  His fingers tightened on her legs.

  “—and it was nothing but a lovely experience. We didn’t announce it to the world. Such relationships are quite common among the Ton, and I’ll bet in the working class, too.”

  He rubbed his thumbs along her skin. The motion seemed unconscious. Natural. And sent a delicious curl of heat through her core. She instinctively widened her thighs a bit more.

  “Perhaps among widows, not unmarried women.” He inhaled, and a low sound rumbled through his chest. “It wouldn’t be right.”

  She reached out and smoothed a lick of hair behind his ear. She cupped his cheek, enjoying the bristle so unlike her own smooth skin. “Why live how others wish? Why not live by your own rules? Unless you believe I’m a fallen woman. Impure.” The word was bitter on her tongue. Among her friends, social conventions were paid little mind. It would hurt if this man thought less of her because she hadn’t remained chaste. If he thought she was a harrid—

  “No.” He grabbed her hand and kept it pressed to his cheek, turning his face into it to kiss her palm. He rolled down to his knees and closed his eyes. “Don’t ever think that.”

  She bent over and framed his face with her hands. “Then live by your own rules. By the ones we make together.” She brushed her mouth over his, gently taking his lower lip and sucking on it. “Please, Brogan. I want you so much.”

  More than she ever had James. Her want was so deep it shocked her.

  He opened his eyes. She saw the conflict. The desire. Needing to make the decision easier for him, she winked and said, “You still need to check my hip.” With one last kiss, she leaned back and hooked her fingers under the edge of her skirts. She slowly, seductively, slid the fabric up her thighs, giving Brogan a view of her pantalets.

  He groaned. Resignation lined his face. Surging forward, he claimed her in a deep kiss, cupping her breast with one hand as he explored her mouth. His teeth scraped along her tongue, sending shivers down her spine and making her body arch into his touch.

  She fumbled with the ties to her undergarments. She felt empty, needy.

  He pulled back, out of breath, and stilled her hands. He placed one of her palms on the seat next to her thigh, the other on the other side. He squeezed her wrists, telling her silently to keep them there, and kissed her again.

  Well, if he wanted to do all the work, that was fine with her. For now.

  He trailed kisses down her neck. Grabbing the back of her thighs, he pulled her to lie flat on the sofa.

  The twinge in her side was easily ignored. His mouth had a way of making all pain disappear.

  Brogan slid a hand behind her, arching her back. Without lowering her gown, he laved at her breast. He suckled her nipple through the silk, using his teeth to scrape across the sensitive nub. He slid his other hand up her pantalets to the slit at her crotch.

  She whimpered at the first brush of his fingers against her lower lips. Moisture pooled, and Brogan growled as he spread her desire up to her clit.

  She clutched his head. “You feel so good.”

  He pulled back from her body, ignoring her protest, only to circle her wrists and plant her hands back on the sofa. “Stay.”

  Her chest heaved. It took more energy to not reach for him than it did running upstairs. But when Brogan raised the hand that had been petting her, inhaled deeply and licked his finger, she forgot all about her discomfort.

  Giving her a wicked smile, he slid down her body, shouldering her knees wider, and stared at the slit in the fabric. And what lay behind. He placed his hands on her hips and peeled the opening wider with his thumbs. And to her disbelieving eyes, he lowered his head and put his mouth on her.

  “Oh, Lord!” Needing something to hold onto, she reached over her head and grabbed the back of the sofa. James had never shown her this. She wanted to protest. Wanted to take a bath, perhaps, before letting Brogan know her so intimately. But her body refused to say any words to stop it.

  Brogan traced a path between her lips, lapped at her essence before sliding that marvelous tongue into her core. His nose brushed her clit with each bob of his head, sending streaks of pleasure through her body.

  She pleaded. Begged. Urged him not to stop. To never stop. Her life would be perfect if Brogan could live between her thighs. She’d care for nothing else, not even food or shelter.

  He gripped her bum, pulling her closer as though he couldn’t get enough of her taste. And just when she thought she couldn’t take another minute of his delightful torture, Brogan wrapped his lips around her clit and sucked.

  She exploded into a thousand vibrating bits of pleasure. She bucked into his mouth, writhed with ecstasy until it all became too much. She collapsed back, sucking down air and blinking at vague shapes her eyes refused to focus on.

  The fabric of her gown was smoothed back down her legs.

  She held out her hand, not able to do much more than that. “Give me a moment. That was… spectacular.” She shook her head clear and gave Brogan a big smile.

  Which quickly dropped at his closed-off expression. “What’s wrong?” He didn’t answer. Her stomach clenched, and dread withered the last, lingering feelings from her crisis. She swallowed. Keeping her voice light, she said, “Is it the sofa? I know it isn’t big enough for the both of us. We can go to your bedroom to finish.”

  She glanced down at his trousers. The bulge, the large bulge, behind the falls proved he wanted her. Perhaps he just went quiet during intimate times. Any moment, he would throw her over his shoulder and take her—

  “This was a mistake.” The clench of his hand was his only display of emotion. “If you want a different investigator, I’ll understand. You can interview the other agents tomorrow.”

  Juliana pushed a hank of hair off her face. “I don’t want another investigator. I want you.” In her bed. In her life. And maybe, if they were both lucky, in her heart.

  “Then we’ll forget this ever happened.” He took a step back. Away from her.

  Her insides twisted. He might have been able to discard a kiss, but he couldn’t ignore what had just happened between them. “Brogan…”

  “I’ll get some blankets for you. You can sleep on the sofa tonight.”

  And as fast as his long legs could carry him, he fled the room.

  Juliana bent her head, fighting the tears that threatened. Perhaps she was different than the women he was used to. Perhaps she was too different from him.

  Because apparently he could ignore what had happened between them.

  And she knew she would never be able to forget it.

  Chapter Fourteen

  He should have offered her the bed. Brogan frowned as Juliana rubbed the small of her back again. The sofa had been no place to let a woman sleep. But if she’d taken his bed, he’d never be able to sleep in it again. Not knowing her body had lain on it. Rolled about on it. Perhaps touched hers—

  “And you say the assailant used a sling?” Wilberforce sat on the edge of Brogan’s desk, turning the rock that had almost brained Juliana over in his hand. He stared at it as though the stone would reveal the secret of who had wielded it.

  “Yes,” he said. Juliana arched her back in her seat behind his desk, and Brogan wanted nothing more than to rub her aches away. He truly was an arsehole. Last nig
ht never should have happened. Now that he knew what she tasted like, how she sounded when in the throes of passion, he would never be able to rid her from his mind.

  Brogan forced his gaze back to his boss. “One of my friends used to hunt with a sling when we were growing up. I’d go with him some times. The sound is distinctive.” But unusual enough that he hadn’t placed it until it was too late. He clenched his hand. If Juliana hadn’t bent over at that precise moment…

  Wil looked at Juliana like she was an abused puppy. “Are you certain you’re all right, that we shouldn’t call a doctor?”

  “I’m certain.” She gave him a firm smile. “I only want to find this blackguard so my life can return to normal.”

  Brogan winced. A normal that didn’t include him, no doubt. She’d hardly said two words to him this morning, and why should she? He’d led her to believe something that wasn’t possible. That their class differences didn’t have to come between them. But in the back of his mind, he’d known the truth.

  She was an aristocrat, a noble, someone not to be touched by the likes of him. It was better this way, for the both of them.

  Wil stood and tossed the rock to Brogan. “What’s your plan?”

  “I’m returning to Newgate. I think Pickens is ready to talk, he just needs some prodding.” He jerked his head at Juliana. “I want Lady Juliana to stay here while I’m out. She should be guarded at all times.”

  Wil nodded. “Of course. Lord Summerset’s office is quite comfortable. He spared no expense in furnishing it. Lady Juliana can rest there.”

  The woman in question remained suspiciously quiet.

  “No objection on your part?” Brogan asked.

  “Would it do any good?”

  “No.” Brogan narrowed his gaze. Submitting to reality wasn’t a trait he had credited her with.

  She pulled a timepiece from her pocketbook. “Then why object? I will be fed, won’t I?” She raised an eyebrow at Wil. “I become awfully grumpy if I haven’t eaten by eleven.”