by Alyson Chase
He scratched his jaw. “I thought if I punched your father you’d be angry.”
She stopped pacing and dropped her face into her hands. “Unbelievable.” She looked skyward. “Why did I have to fall in love with an idiot?”
Brogan stilled. “Don’t say that. Don’t say you love me.”
She dropped her gaze to his. “Why not? It’s true.”
“Saying it aloud will only make it harder on yourself.” On him. He barely had the strength to walk away from her now.
She smiled, but there was no amusement in it. “If you think I won’t be anything other than devastated if you walk away, then you are sorely mistaken.” She reached for him, then dropped her hand. “I’m willing to fight for you. Fight for us. Against any nay-sayers or cuts direct. But…” She swallowed. “I won’t push myself where I’m not wanted. Do you love me, Brogan?”
He snorted. “Loving you isn’t the issue.”
She blew out a wavering breath. “Can you say the words? Can you do that for me? Sometimes a woman needs to hear the words.”
He grabbed his hair, tugging. “I love you, damn it. Now how does that help anything?”
Her whole body sagged, as though she hadn’t expected him to admit to it. He narrowed his eyes. Or hadn’t known that he’d actually loved her. But if she didn’t know that already, then she was the idiot.
“You said it for me.” She beamed.
He stepped close and gripped her shoulders. “Damn fool woman, don’t you know I’d do anything for you? That’s why I broke things off. To protect you.”
“If you’d do anything, then live for me. Live with me. You think I won’t be happy with you? Well, make me happy.”
He gave her a small shake. “It won’t work.” A sharp pain thudded behind his temple. Why wouldn’t she listen? She had to be wrong. Didn’t she?
“It could be embarrassing for you, joining with my family.” She placed her hand over his heart and rubbed small circles. It felt better than he wanted to admit.
“What? Your father’s an earl.”
“And my brother is a criminal.” She shook her head. “By the standards of decent society, you’d be the one marrying beneath you.”
“That’s asinine.” The toes of his boots nudged the toes of hers. “I don’t care what your brother is.”
“And I don’t care who your father is.” She lifted her chin. Her lips hovered inches beneath his.
“It’s not the same thing.” But he could feel his resolve crumbling. Everything he wanted was right before him. Was he an idiot to refuse it? Couldn’t he make it his life’s work to make her happy?
“No, a moral failing is much worse than an accident of birth.” She leaned forward, the tips of her breasts pressing against his chest. All his muscles tensed. He ground his teeth so hard his jaw ached. “Your mother is a god-fearing woman,” she said. “When she hears of what my brother’s done, she’ll look at me like I’m tainted. Like I’m nowhere near good enough for her son. Like—”
Brogan shut her up the only way he knew how. He kissed her.
Her mouth opened beneath his. She eagerly met his tongue with her own. She wrapped her arm around his neck and held him close, as though afraid to let him go.
She needn’t have worried. His fight was gone. If Juliana was willing to risk a life with him, then he wasn’t able to say no any longer.
Being his wife would be an adjustment for her. But if he couldn’t buy her a new dress each year, he would make it up to her in other ways.
He angled her head and took the kiss deeper. Better, more pleasurable ways.
A sliver of guilt niggled at him. Perhaps he should give her one more chance to change her mind. He pressed his forehead to hers, sucking down air. “Think carefully. Once you become my wife, there’s no going b—”
Juliana leapt at him with a squeal. She clung to his shoulders and kissed him hard.
He staggered back, gripping her waist and holding her tight.
Well, all right then. He’d given her every opportunity to do the right thing. He could hardly be expected to persist past the lady’s desires, not when acceding to them would make him deliriously happy.
No man was that strong. Not even a hardened ex-boxer.
And all it took was one spunky lady to bring him to his knees.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Juliana stiffened her spine as she stooped through the low door. The cells, little more than fortified rooms in the magistrate’s basement, were dark and dank, and Juliana pulled her coat more tightly about her. It was late in the evening, but she hadn’t wanted to wait until morning to have this conversation with her brother.
Snow jumped up from his pallet at her approach and leapt for the cell door. “Jules, I knew you or father would come. This chastisement has gone on long enough. Let me out.”
If Brogan hadn’t been at her back, she might have lost her courage. He squeezed her shoulder, and she nodded.
“Father asked me to come. He’s too distraught to look at you.” She turned away from her brother’s expression. It was filled too much with pique and not enough with guilt. “He will pay for an attorney for you. It won’t be the best attorney; father can’t afford the best. But he’ll be better than you deserve.”
“Attorney?” Snowdon whined. “He isn’t going to actually press charges against me, is he?”
A brittle chuckle came from the next cell over. “Shut up, Snow,” Miss Lynn said. “If I had to be arrested, why did it have to be with you?”
Juliana took a step towards the disembodied voice. Brogan’s fingers flexed on her shoulder. She patted his hand, and with a sigh, he released her.
She peered into the next cell. “Why?” She had to ask. This woman was the cause of her family’s ruin. If she and Snow had never met, her brother would never have acted so odiously. He would have lived a life of banal decadence, accomplishing little, but he would have been free.
He wouldn’t have broken his father’s heart.
Miss Lynn’s influence didn’t release Snow from responsibility for his own actions, but Juliana’s gut burned standing in front of the woman who had sown such destruction.
Miss Lynn’s dark eyes appeared at the small window in the door. “Why what?” Her tone was mocking. “Why did I work so hard to free my brothers and sisters from their chains?”
“The only chains you’ll encounter are the ones that will wrap about your wrists soon.” Brogan grunted. “Life for most is hard, but it doesn’t excuse this.”
Juliana stepped forwards. They were nearly face to face, only a thin bar separating the women. “Do you truly care about improving society, or do you only revel in the chaos you create?”
“Can’t it be both?” The edges of Miss Lynn’s eyes crinkled devilishly. Even facing prison, and who knew what else, the woman had brass. Was it her mind that had something wrong with it? No one should react such to the future she faced. “You should be more understanding,” Miss Lynn said. “You’ve always wanted to make a name for yourself. History isn’t made by meek women.”
“It isn’t made by shrews, either.” Juliana hadn’t only wanted to become renowned. She’d wanted to be known for doing something good, improving society. Her name would be whispered far and wide now, with a brother accused of trying to kill his titled father. Her family would make good grist for the gossip mill. And the fame she knew was to come turned her stomach.
But it didn’t matter. Her father was alive. She had Brogan. Nothing else compared. “It gives me some comfort to know that history won’t be made by you.”
Miss Lynn narrowed her eyes. “My life isn’t over yet.”
“No, and you might even get to enjoy some of it if you provide the courts with information,” Brogan said. “Your brother was involved in the Durham riots?”
“I already told you that.” Miss Lynn gripped the bar in the window. “Lord Stanhope was starving his tenants, not letting them hunt on his la
nd. That riot was the beginning of the end for England’s aristocracy. Mark my words.”
Brogan leaned his shoulder against the wall. “And does your brother hunt with a firearm?”
“No. Bullets are much too dear…” Miss Lynn pressed her lips tight. The glare she sent Brogan would have made lesser men turn tail and run.
“He hunts with a sling, does he not?” Brogan waited for an answer, but when he turned to Juliana with a shrug, it was clear he hadn’t expected one.
At least the woman had loyalty to someone. For Snow’s sake, it was too bad it wasn’t him.
“So, he’s the one who tried to take off my head.” Juliana shoved her hand in Brogan’s coat pocket, hoping to warm it.
“It will be hard to prove.” Brogan took her hands and chafed them between his own.
She rested her temple on his shoulder. “I don’t even care any longer. As long as he stays away from me and my father, I don’t mind that he’s not in prison.”
She rubbed his chest as a low grumble vibrated through it. Of course, he wouldn’t agree. Brogan would want to hunt down anyone who had tried to hurt her.
And she didn’t mind that, either.
“Jules, you’re my sister.” Snowdon stretched his hand out to her. “You can’t leave me in here. People like me don’t belong in places like this.”
She took a last look at her brother. She would remember the affection she had for him as a child. Remember the times they’d laughed together, and nothing else. “Goodbye, Snow.”
Brogan wrapped his arm around her waist as her brother’s shrieks filled the basement. He nodded to the magistrate as they left his house. He helped her into a cart and turned the wagon for Rose’s home.
It was a quiet ride back. Instead of a groom, Lord Dunkeld met them at the stables. He helped Juliana down then turned towards Brogan when he jumped to the ground.
Her muscles tensed. She had hoped she was done fighting for the night. There wasn’t much left in her. But if the marquess thought he could—
Dunkeld stuck out his hand. “I’m happy to know my and my friend’s little agency is doing some good.”
Brogan rubbed his jaw before slowly reaching out to shake. “Does that mean I’ll get a reference?”
The Scotsman crossed his arms over his barrel chest. “Are you looking for new employment?”
“I thought, after hitting you, that I’d have to look for another job.”
Dunkeld laughed. “My wife is still hopping mad, but I hold no grudges. It was a good play. And you,” he said to Juliana, “wield a mighty fine cane.”
Juliana bounced on her toes.
Brogan tapped his fingers against his leg, as effusive a sign of excitement as he was liable to give.
She wouldn’t have minded marrying a boxer or a woodworker or whatever Brogan had decided to do, but marrying an investigator…
They’d worked well together on her case. Would he let her work with him again on others?
She’d have to work on her debating skills if she was to convince him.
Dunkeld turned for the house, and they fell in step beside him. “My wife and I will return to London with you, Duffy. I know Wilberforce will want a full report of this investigation, and I want to speak to him and the others about improving communications at the Bond Agency. I was here with Withington, one of the subjects of our cases, and I didn’t know. I could have been protecting him.” The marquess’s nostrils flared.
Juliana placed her hand on his arm. “The doctor says my father will be fine. He wasn’t poisoned. It was just too much plum pudding.”
Dunkeld nodded tersely. “Nonetheless, we need a better system. At least one person who knows where all agents are located and the elements of each current case so nothing like this falls through the cracks again. We were lucky this time.”
“Agreed,” Brogan said.
The marquess rubbed his chin. “I must say, your little tap to the jaw has reminded me how much I miss getting my hands a bit dirty. I might ask for a case of my own when we arrive.”
Brogan chuckled. “I’d be happy to assist you.”
Juliana reached for Brogan. “But you’ll come to Bluff Hall as soon as you’ve finished?” She rubbed her breastbone. How quickly she went from thinking she’d never see the man again to expecting him to be by her side at all times. Even a week of separation seemed interminable.
“The very moment I’ve given my report, I’ll return to you.” He laced their fingers together.
“I hear congratulations are in order,” Dunkeld said.
“Yes, my father is looking into getting us a special license.” He’d seemed happy to have a task to focus on. Anything to take his mind off Snowdon.
Brogan’s hand clenched around hers. “I can’t believe he gave me his blessing. It was unfair to ask for your hand when your father was in such a state of mind. Perhaps I should ask again when he’s recovered from his shock.”
Dunkeld stopped in front of the front door. “Don’t be a daft fool. When given a gift like a woman to love, you grab onto her with both hands, and fight anyone who would try to take her away. Ask again.” He huffed out a breath. “What nonsense.”
Juliana looked down at their clasped hands. From his grip on her, she didn’t think Brogan letting her go was going to be a problem. And his uneasiness over their marriage would disappear when she greeted him each day with a smile, and each night with a naughty kiss.
And speaking of…
“Gentlemen, if you will excuse me, I believe I’ll turn in for the night.” She dipped a curtsy to the marquess, and gave Brogan the sauciest look she knew. And when she sauntered away, she made sure to inject a bit more swing into her hips than was technically necessary.
It had its desired effect. Within moments, Brogan gave his own excuses, which she was sure didn’t fool the marquess in the least, and his footsteps pounded after her.
He caught up when her hand was on her bedroom’s handle. He herded her through the door and muffled her laughter with his mouth. He pushed the door closed with her body.
“You little minx.” He ran his hand over her waist to the back of her thigh and tugged until she wrapped her leg around his hip. When he pressed forward, his hard length nestled right where she needed it.
She nibbled on his jaw. “I can’t wait to be Mrs. Juliana Duffy.”
“Truly?” He lifted his head to gaze down at her. His eyes flicked back and forth over her own, as though trying to read her deepest thoughts.
“Truly.” Gripping his neckcloth, she pulled him back down. Their lips brushed. “Only an ex-boxer turned investigator will do. Someone strong enough to help me through my family’s troubles. Smart enough to keep me safe. And stubborn enough to stick with me even when I’m irritating the stuffing out of you. You’re perfect for me, Brogan Duffy. Imagine how bored I’d be with a toff.”
He grinned. “One thing I can promise, my love, is you’ll never be bored.” He took her mouth, the kiss sealing the promise better than anything else could do.
It took running away from home, being chased down by an investigator, and solving a crime in order to discover what gave her life meaning. And loving the man in front of her was a very big part of that.
Life was a mad, marvelous thing.
And she was going to enjoy every moment of it.
###
A Note from the Author
You’ve come to the end of this story, but not the end of stories from the Bond Agency. More hot romances with dashing investigators and the women who bring them to heel are on their way! Join my VIP Club if you want the latest information on new releases, sales, and other good stuff.
Join here!
Books in the Lords of Discipline series
DISCIPLINED BY THE DUKE (Marcus and Elizabeth’s story)
BOUND BY THE EARL (Julius and Amanda’s story)
BURNING FOR THE BARON (Max and Colleen’s story)
MASTERED
UNDER THE MISTLETOE (A holiday novella featuring Marcus and Elizabeth)
MARKED BY THE MARQUESS (Sin and Winnifred’s story)
PLAYED BY THE EARL (John and Netta’s story)
About the Author
Like almost one-third of all romance writers, Alyson Chase is a former attorney. (Seriously, what is with all the disillusioned lawyers?) She happily ditched those suits and now works in her pajamas writing about men’s briefs instead of legal briefs. When she’s not writing, she’s probably engaged in one of her favorite hobbies: napping, eating, or martial arts. (That last one almost makes up for the first two, right?) She also writes humorous, small-town, contemporary romance novels under the name Allyson Charles, and paranormal romance as A. Caprice.