“I wouldn’t call it chance or business,” he replied. “I would call this fate.”
He let the statement linger in the quiet night air. And finally, when she knew he would add nothing more until she did—or looked at him again—she tilted her head fractionally, just enough to gaze into eyes too hidden in darkness to read.
Bravely she contended, “This has nothing to do with fate. I’m here of necessity. I’ve never been remotely interested in you except for your skills as a thief. Attractiveness aside, you’ve not one husbandly trait in your body.”
“Many women would think otherwise,” he stressed with mock formality.
“Precisely my point, dear Jonathan.”
That amused him again. She could feel it more than see it, although he didn’t argue. He watched her, his face inches from hers, his fingers grazing her upper arm through light cotton as they moved back and forth along the sheet.
“Yet you wanted to marry a thief,” he persisted softly. “Certainly you expected to find nothing domestic about him. Or was that whole notion just a made-up story for my benefit?”
He’d let the words sort of . . . spill out of his mouth, and yet she knew by their serious intonation that he was really asking. She couldn’t talk about that, however, or disclose just how deeply her dreams had run.
“You’re right,” she admitted sweetly. “I lied.”
He waited a moment, then grasped her arm with his hand and squeezed it gently. “And you’re horrible at it.”
Her pulse began to race from both the close contact and the implication of his words. He knew she was lying now, that her original intentions were exactly as she’d confessed. But alas, he played the gentleman by not dwelling on her embarrassment, although from instinct, and perhaps because she was growing to know him so well, she realized just how much he wanted her to admit and explain her innermost feelings.
And yet she couldn’t. Twice in her life now she’d been humiliated by her candid disclosures to Jonathan Drake, and that was enough. Things were too intimate between them as it was, lying next to him in bed, feeling his warmth, smelling the salty, sea air mixed with the alluring masculine scent of him. Quietly she changed the subject.
“You were the one to donate hundreds to Lady Julia Beverly’s home for unfortunate girls, weren’t you, Jonathan?”
She could sense his surprise at the turn in conversation, and perhaps even his dismay that she no longer wanted to talk about them. For seconds he said nothing, just continued to stare at her in the moonlight, caressing her arm without apparent thought. But this was something she was aching to know; it was one of London’s greatest mysteries, and at the time of its occurrence had created scrumptious gossip around the city. Most were certain the act had been instigated by the Black Knight, but it was one of those incidents that hadn’t led to him directly.
Finally he breathed deeply and nodded in acknowledgment. “About two years ago,” he started thoughtfully, “I was asked to look into the theft of an antique diamond-studded pocket watch, reported missing by Sir Charles Kendall. Sir Charles had said it was stolen at his club during a high-stakes card game between several members of the gentry. I became involved because the watch’s description matched that of one stolen nine years earlier from a Mr. Herold Larken-James, a barrister and collector of fine antiquities, who died in a fire before his watch could be found and returned to him.
“The job took me weeks, actually, one of the longest I’ve ever done, because I had to risk entering the home of every man who had attended that card game. But my search eventually proved fruitful when I located the watch in the wardrobe drawer of Walter Pembroke, a retired navy admiral, who had swiped it himself during the game, where everyone was betting heavily and drinking too much to notice. In the end it turned out indeed to be the watch of Mr. Larken-James, as his initials were carved very delicately on the inside, and because he was dead with no family to whom I could return the watch, I decided to give it to a better cause. Technically, at that time, since it wasn’t rightfully anyone else’s, it belonged to me.”
Intrigued, intimacies forgotten, Natalie turned on her side, facing him fully, which forced him to let go of her arm. She rested her elbow on the pillow exactly as he did, cheek in palm, and dropped her voice to a whisper. “Perhaps Sir Charles bought it from the person who stole it from Mr. Larken-James, and he felt he owned it legitimately?”
He shook his head faintly, his mouth turning down in a slight frown. “I’d wondered that myself at the time, then came to learn Sir Charles had sought the barrister’s services, in the man’s office, roughly two weeks before the watch was reported missing. It was later stolen from his office on a day when Sir Charles had conveniently held an appointment; this was documented. Mr. Larken-James didn’t suspect him of course, but I’ve learned over time that class has no bearing when it comes to the negative tendencies of human nature.”
She thought about that for a moment, fascinated. “So why did you choose Lady Julia’s cause?”
Without hesitation, he replied, “Because Sir Charles, a not very decent character, had a nasty habit of getting his servant girls in that particular unfortunate condition from time to time, then dismissing them without reference to live, essentially, on the street. I found it fitting that he should help support others who had perhaps fallen into disgrace in a like manner, so I sent the watch to Lady Julia suggesting she discreetly sell it if funds were needed for her home. A month after she did so, I sent another anonymous letter to Sir Charles informing him in detail of what exactly had become of his watch.”
Natalie felt dazzled, touched by the excitement. “Who paid you, then? Certainly not your benefactors. They’d have no reason.”
He lifted his left shoulder minutely. “I wasn’t paid for that job.”
She blinked. “You risked exposure and possible arrest for nothing?”
He leaned toward her to murmur, “Once in a while, Natalie, I do my work simply because it feels good.”
It had been an act of kindness, of unselfish service to those less fortunate, she realized, not a deception about which to boast as when he’d stolen the emeralds, and she couldn’t help but smile into his eyes.
“How noble you are, Jonathan,” she teased.
“I can be on occasion.”
“You could have at least taken credit for it,” she added softly.
Very gently, he admitted, “I had nothing to prove to anyone.”
She gazed at his face only inches away, feeling warmth and contentment encircling them, the serene sense of friendship between them. She longed to reach up and brush the hair off his forehead with her fingers, to touch the stubble on his jaw, the curls on his bare chest. It took all that was in her to hold back. Quite suddenly, lying there so close to him physically, connecting with him confidentially, it occurred to her that she’d not asked him the most personal question of all.
“Why do you do this, Jonathan? What made you decide to become a thief, to invent such an incredible . . . personality of deception?”
He reached for the string ties hanging from the collar of her nightgown and began to twist one around his fingers. He said nothing immediately, which prompted her to press for detail as she moved her right foot forward just enough to rub his shin with her toes.
“I won’t tell a soul,” she whispered.
He exhaled a small, contented breath. “It’s not a secret. I’ve just never told anyone.”
She continued to stroke his leg, saying nothing in reply, hoping he wouldn’t now decide not to confide in her.
At last he dropped the arm propping up his head, adjusting his body comfortably beside her, resting his cheek on the pillow once more, eyeing her directly.
“You’re an only child,” he began, “and female, so maybe you’ll not understand this. But I’m the second son of an earl.”
She laid her head down beside him, pushing her hands up under her pillow, smiling. “I know that, Jonathan. You’re not shocking me yet.”
> He smiled in return. “Don’t take that statement superficially, Natalie. Think about what it means. There are only two of us, Simon and me, nineteen months apart in age. My father was overjoyed that his wife bore him two sons, but I probably would have been better off had I been born a girl—”
Her scoff of the ridiculous cut him off. “That’s nonsense talk coming from someone who won’t ever have to be one,” she scolded. “You have options, the entire world available to you; I’m expected to marry and have babies and bow to my husband’s whims.”
He tenderly touched her cheek with the back of his fingers. “You don’t understand. I’m talking strictly of the attention given girls by their parents. Yes, as a man I can make my own decisions, go places and do things at my discretion. I know society allows me things it doesn’t allow women.” He lightened his voice. “And of course I enjoy women far too much to ever want to be one. I’m very much thankful I was born male.”
She tensed a little at the remark, but he didn’t appear to notice, carrying on before she could comment, reaching again for the ties holding her nightgown together at her neck.
“I’m referring to me as an individual, Natalie,” he explained, subdued. “My parents cared for both Simon and me, there’s no question there. But my brother was raised to be an earl; I was raised to be one ‘just in case.’ My brother was expected to be educated; I was expected to do less because it didn’t really matter since I wouldn’t be managing the estate. My brother was groomed for importance; I was allowed to do as I pleased most of the time. My brother was the serious one, taking on his duties efficiently and at a young age; I was far more gregarious and teasing by nature, more . . . tolerated, for lack of a better word.”
“I should think there are many noblemen wishing they could be second born,” she offered. “Where choices and opportunities would be theirs, where the pressures to succeed didn’t weigh so heavily on their shoulders.”
“I suppose there are,” he agreed. “And maybe if I had several brothers and sisters I wouldn’t feel this way.”
She frowned. “Feel what way, exactly?”
He paused, brows creased in remembrance, concentrating on hidden thoughts. “When I was fourteen I stumbled upon a private conversation between my parents. They were arguing about me, about my carefree nature and lack of application to my studies.” Hesitantly he added, “My mother mentioned that I paid too much attention to girls and having fun.”
“It seems you haven’t changed,” she acknowledged without expression.
He smiled faintly again but ignored that, adjusting his head and body so that he moved even closer to her—so close, in fact, that she could feel the warmth emanating from his skin, his soft breath on her cheeks as he talked.
“They were deep in discussion about sending me away,” he disclosed huskily, “about sending me abroad—to a boys’ school in Vienna. My mother was reluctant, but she and I were very close so this was not surprising. My father felt I lacked refinement as a child of good breeding and that a strict environment designed to instill good moral conduct was what I needed to correct my tendency toward what he felt was irresponsible behavior. In the end, though, due to my mother’s determination and my father’s adoration for her, I was allowed to remain in England. As far as I know, they never again mentioned it. They never told me of their discussion, and they never knew I knew.”
He lowered his tone to a sullen whisper. “The idea of being sent away didn’t surprise me, or even really upset me all that much. But it was the actual exchange between them on that day that changed my life, Natalie, and I will never forget it. My mother, crying, said, ‘I always thought Jonathan would be the clever one.’ To which my father said, ‘He’s not clever, he’s devious. He’s an ill-behaved boy who will never amount to anything but a social rake, who will run up debts that will need to be paid by Simon. Simon will be the one to make us proud. Jonathan will be the one to ruin us.’ ”
Natalie felt a powerful wave of compassion and sympathy course through her as she considered how such a conversation, even spoken with good intentions, could devastate a child if overheard. There was no one in the world who better grasped the feelings of not living up to set ideals, of being underrated and unappreciated.
“I know what it’s like never to quite meet parental expectations, Jonathan,” she whispered in a silky breath of deep reassurance.
He stared at her as he answered intensely, “I know you do. You’re the first person I’ve ever revealed this to, Natalie, and I did so because you’re the only person I’ve ever known who would so totally understand.”
She felt drawn to him from that simple statement, uttered in absolute honesty and with such depth of emotion, of trust. She lay beside him, alone together in a small, warm bed, in a beautiful bungalow on the seashore of an enchanted land, and right now, for her, they were the only two people in existence.
“So why did you choose to become a thief?” she asked, looking into his blackened eyes. “Doesn’t that mean they’ve won?”
He placed his palm over her nightgown, flat on her chest though just under her neck, and for the first time ever, the forward action didn’t bother her at all. It felt marvelously natural.
“Think about it, Natalie,” he suggested in a smooth, rich voice. “We’ve all won.”
That’s when she fully understood. He lived the life expected of him and his station, a life carefree but with the underlying stability of honest work, his amazing cleverness and achievements as a fantastic thief concealed beneath the guise of a frivolous air of gaiety within fashionable society. Most of all, he had grown into the man he wanted to be with the integrity his parents had never foreseen.
“But they’ve been dead for years, Jonathan,” she argued carefully. “They never knew you as the Black Knight. They’ll never know of your successes.”
He smiled again. “I will know.”
She grinned in return. “And Simon.”
“And Simon,” he concurred.
Silence grew around them, calmness filling the room, and neither one of them moved. Jonathan had a better view of her than she did of him, he realized with a slight acknowledgment of the advantage. The full moon behind him cast a glow to her vivid eyes so full of expression, to her face and shiny hair as it tumbled in waves over her shoulder and breasts. Since she’d crawled into bed, he’d wanted to reach for her, to wrap his arms around her and pull her close, but as always, because he knew how she’d react, he held the desire in check. So naturally it came as a complete surprise when she reached up with her hand and gingerly touched his face, cupping his jaw, the pads of her fingers caressing his cheek as she studied what she could see of his features in the dimness.
He watched her, saying nothing, unmoving for fear she’d back away. It was the first time she’d ever purposely touched him expressing tenderness, flowing from her in radiance, embracing both of them tightly, and he didn’t want it to end.
“You’re not sad about any of this now, about your parents never knowing what you’ve become?” she asked in a deep whisper.
“No, not really,” he responded at last, yielding to the closeness. “I think they’d be pleased if they knew. I’m happy with the way my life has progressed, and I enjoy what I do. The only thing bothersome about it is that it’s a very lonely occupation. I really wish, Natalie, that I’d had you along to keep me company on every single adventure.”
She didn’t know how to take that at first. She pulled her hand away from his face as her eyes grew to round pools of uncertainty lightly traced with caution. Then her mouth broadened in a smile.
“I’d be trouble.”
“But wickedly fun trouble,” he teased.
“You’d grow bored with me, Jonathan.”
He snickered. “I can’t imagine ever growing bored with you, Natalie.”
“That’s a singularly odd statement coming from a gentleman known for his carousing nature,” she returned in a light rebuke. “And at some point we’d get caught. I
couldn’t lie to my parents about where I was going every time.”
“You could marry me, and then I could take you with me anywhere.”
He’d suggested that in a jovial tone, and very easily, which surprised him. But it shocked her. He could feel her heartbeat steadily increase beneath his fingertips, hear the shallow, nervous breath escape her lips.
She stared at him, unsure. Then she grew markedly serious, and in the space of seconds the mood between them changed to one of sharp static.
“I will never marry someone like you, Jonathan,” she asserted with a sorrowful, profound conviction. “You’re a wonderful man, so charming, and I think very clever. But I’ve seen what unfaithfulness can do to a marriage. I’ve experienced it, and I will never put myself through that—not if I can choose. If I marry at all, it will be to someone devoted to me, and I don’t think anyone who has been with many women can be devoted to just one for an entire lifetime.”
For the first time ever, Jonathan felt the crushing weight of regret and a sickening wisp of something like panic slowly taking form in the pit of his stomach. Real and centered determination graced her features, and it bothered him more than he thought possible.
“But you wanted to marry the Black Knight,” he insisted, sounding calmer than he felt. “He was rumored to have been with many.”
Her eyes narrowed; she set a grim line to her mouth. “It was just that, Jonathan, a rumor, which, sadly to me, has turned out to be true.”
That irritated him a little. “So how many is too many, Natalie? Three? Fifteen? Or did you expect to marry a virgin?”
She had no idea how to respond to that as the conflicts within her surfaced for his view, shining in her expression.
“I think most ladies are fortunate enough to marry virgins,” she answered forcefully.
He slowly shook his head. “I think most ladies are naive or unknowing.”
Adele Ashworth Page 21