by Monica Burns
But something had registered with him the moment their eyes had met across the ballroom floor. His initial reaction when he’d caught her watching him had been amusement. Whether it was a mother seeking a husband for their offspring, the wide-eyed admiration of an ingénue, or the sultry widow interested in a dalliance, he was well acquainted with the female sex and their behaviors.
But as he had continued to study her from across the expanse of the ballroom, it had been his sudden awareness that Rhea feared him that had startled him. It had been an instinctive knowing that had puzzled him for the briefest of moments before he’d made the connection to the woman in the museum a year ago. It had been the strongest clairvoyant sensation he’d had since the night he was shot. It had been even stronger than the ghosts that had assaulted his senses during his hospital stay. But he’d not trusted his intuition until he’d looked into the deep violet of her eyes when Helen had introduced them. Percy gritted his teeth. One thing was for certain, the woman was distracting him from his purpose. The color of her eyes was irrelevant to the matter at hand.
“I asked you where I can find this man, Ruckley.”
“I don’t know where he is,” she replied without emotion as she turned her head and met his gaze steadily. There wasn’t a trace of deception in those violet depths, but something else flickered there before it was extinguished.
“And if you did know his whereabouts?” His question hung in the air between them for a long moment. With a shake of her head, Rhea looked away.
“I wouldn’t tell you.” The flat response made Percy blow out a breath of exasperation. Again, he wondered why he’d decided not to hand her over to Scotland Yard.
He couldn’t attribute his decision to being blinded by her beauty. Rhea was lovely, but she didn’t resemble the women he usually favored when it came to liaisons. Still, there was something unforgettable about her expressive features. Wisps of dark brown hair had freed themselves from her upswept hair and framed her face in a way that made her look vulnerable. But it was her mouth that captured his imagination. Her full lips were an enticing dark pink. It was a mouth made for kissing. Percy frowned at his fantasizing.
Apprehension shimmered in her eyes as she looked at him again. Percy suddenly realized he didn’t like the idea that she feared him. Surprised and annoyed by the thought, he clenched his jaw. The woman had left him for dead. Yet in true Rockwood fashion, he’d impulsively declared he wouldn’t hand her over to the police.
He didn’t know what to make of his decision. Nor did he understand his need to protect her or convince her that she had nothing to fear from him. Tension flooded his body. What the devil was wrong with him? All he cared about was finding the bastard who’d shot him. The thought almost made him snort out loud in self-disgust. It wasn't just this Ruckley fellow he was interested in. He wanted to know more about Rhea. Despite his instinct telling him she was innocent of any crime where he was concerned, it was still difficult not to eye her with suspicion. He grunted softly.
“Tell me how you came to be at Melton Park. Are you and your aunt planning to steal something from my brother’s house?” He immediately regretted the question.
“No,” she exclaimed vehemently. Anger reminiscent of a mother protecting her young darkened her violet eyes. “My aunt bears no responsibility for my actions or anyone else’s. If not for Aunt Beatrice…”
She wasn’t just afraid. She was in trouble. He knew it with the same certainty he known it that night in the museum. The knowledge became a deep rooted conviction as the an dara sealladh suddenly crashed through him like a raging river. The features of a beefy man with a pock-marked face and bulbous nose filled Percy’s head. Ruckley. He didn’t question how he knew who the man in his vision was. He simply accepted it as fact.
The flashes of insight were chaotic. Images tumbled through his head as if they were pieces of debris tossed violently about in churning waters. He saw Rhea riding across a meadow with tears streaming down her face. The image vanished to become a vivid picture of Rhea dressed in a gown a decade older than current fashions. While another woman distracted a well-dressed gentleman, Rhea picked the man’s pocket.
Just as quickly, another image filled his head of Rhea arguing with Ruckley. A child clung to her skirts as she argued with the man. He couldn’t hear their words, and while her expression was stoic, her posture was filled with defiance, anger, loathing, and fear. The leering expression on Ruckley’s face said the man could read her emotions as well.
In another flash of changing imagery, he saw Rhea comforting a small child while an expression of despair darkened her features as she’d turned toward someone in the shadows. As quickly as the vision came to him they were gone. Most of what he’d seen made little sense, but that was typical of the an dara sealladh. He knew things would sort themselves out sooner or later. But what he’d seen convinced him Rhea’s theft of the pendant was not by choice.
More importantly, his vision had shown him that Rhea wasn’t the person his eyes and personal experience suggested she was. Sorrow and pain were lodged deep inside of her. From the little he’d seen in his visions, her past had taught her to hide her emotions well. The cool, serene expression she’d worn since Helen had introduced them had barely faltered. Yet despite her ability to hide behind that polite mask, it was her eyes that betrayed her.
“Does your aunt know about your past?” His question made Rhea grow still. Her eyes met his for a brief moment before she turned her head away. Her profile was soft and feminine, but revealed nothing of what she was thinking.
“Yes, she knows.”
“But she doesn’t know everything.”
The statement was a stab in the dark. Percy was certain Rhea had done more than pick pockets. When she jerked and looked at him again, he knew he’d struck a nerve. Her violet eyes were as wide now as they had been the night he’d been shot. The moon cast its light on her pale features. The vulnerability he’d seen earlier flitted across her face before it vanished and her expression became devoid of emotion.
“No, she doesn’t know everything. If Aunt Beatrice knew the whole truth it would break her heart. We couldn’t do that to her.”
Shoulders rigid, Rhea stared down at the gazebo floor. His gaze followed hers, and he noted the uneven boards, which had been due to the inexperience of its builders. He and Caleb had built the small structure when they were younger. The memory was a bittersweet one. He missed his older brother. Percy pushed the thought of Caleb’s death aside as he realized Rhea’s response had been in the plural.
“We?” The single word question made her flinch. Rhea glanced in his direction before her gaze focused back on the lopsided flooring. She hesitated for a moment before her shoulders slumped in defeat.
“My sister, Arianna.” Resignation vibrated through her response. It was obvious she’d not meant to reveal she had a sister. When she didn’t expand on her statement, Percy shook his head with exasperation.
“And where is your sister this evening?”
“She’s at home.” The response was clipped and matter-of-fact. Frustration tugged a sigh of irritation from him.
“So she lives at Green Hill House with you and your aunt.”
“She lives in London.”
“Alone?” Percy raised his eyebrows as he stared at her in amazement.
“No,” Rhea exclaimed. “I would never have left her alone if she and Blake hadn’t married this past March.”
“Blake?” Percy frowned for a moment. It wasn’t an uncommon name, but the combination of the name, the month, and word marriage triggered something in his head. Relentlessly, he searched his memory for a moment trying to make the connection Rhea’s explanation had sparked. Suddenly, disbelief latched onto him. “Blake? As in Blake Hawkstone, Viscount Sherrington? Your sister is Lady Sherrington?”
Rhea jerked in horror and slid further away from him until she was completely out of reach. She didn’t answer, but he knew he was right. He’d gone to school with
Blake, and the two of them had become stalwart friends and saw each other quite often at the club, but he’d not seen his friend since his marriage. Only a handful of guests had been invited to Blake’s wedding, and his friend had asked Percy to attend.
Normally, he wouldn’t have missed the occasion, but he’d been at Callendar Abby for the celebration of his nephew Braxton’s sixth birthday. Ever since losing Devin and Caleb in the fire at Westbrook Farms, he and his siblings put family above all other things. The significance of Rhea’s sister being married to a friend of his was not lost on Percy.
Coincidences in the Rockwood clan were viewed as signs the universe had placed them in a certain place and time for a reason. When Rhea didn’t respond, he decided to change the direction of the conversation.
“Exactly what does your aunt know?”
“She knows Ariana and I were pickpockets.”
The finality in her voice said she wasn’t about to expand on her statement with him anymore than she intended to discuss her sister. But it was enough to convince him that their association with Ruckley had involved more than pickpocketing. The memory of Ruckley’s image was more than enough for Percy to come up with any number of things the man had forced Rhea to do. The most unsavory one made Percy’s gut knot with revulsion. As much as he didn’t want to believe it, he would be a fool to think Ruckley hadn’t had his way with Rhea. Anger swept through him. The thought of Ruckley or any other man touching her made his muscles harden with a rage he didn’t understand. Hell, he didn’t know what to make of this entire situation.
“How did you come to be in Ruckley’s employ?”
The question was barely past his lips before Rhea was off the bench in a flash of movement. She stood in the moonlight with contempt darkening her eyes, and Percy frowned. He’d made a mistake to presume she’d willingly agreed to enter Ruckley’s employ. It only emphasized the fact that if he wanted to know all of Rhea’s secrets, he needed to earn her trust. He wouldn’t gain her confidence by bullying her into telling him the truth. Her posture was stiff and unyielding as she stared at him with an icy scorn that would have chilled even his unflappable brother, Sebastian.
“First you drag me into the dark against my will, Mr. Rockwood. Then you have the audacity to assume my aunt intends to steal from your brother. Now you insist on asking questions that have nothing to do with that fateful night at the museum. Questions you have no right to ask.”
She glared at him with an outrage he realized was fear driven. Percy could read it in the deep purple of her eyes.
“The minute you stepped across the threshold of Melton Park, you made it my business.”
“I would never have done so if I’d realized you were going to be here,” she snapped. “I’ll not answer any more of your questions. Even if you change your mind and turn me over to Scotland Yard, I’ll not answer their questions either.”
“Perhaps Lady Sherrington will be more forthcoming,” he snapped.
The moment his words of frustration split the air he bit back a groan of disgust. Rhea’s head snapped back as if he’d slapped her. Abject horror flitted across her features, which had become the hue of white marble. Her entire demeanor was almost deathlike, and for a brief moment he thought she might faint.
Pale as the moonlight pooling at her feet, her features were immobile. The threat had been a cold, unfeeling remark that his family, particularly his sisters, would have condemned him for most vehemently. Regret and self-disgust lashed out at him. For not the first time in his life, he was reminded he was a member of the reckless Rockwoods.
Slowly, Percy rose to his feet. Rhea immediately took a step backward. It seemed out of character for her to do so. He was certain she wasn’t the kind of woman to retreat. Although he barely knew her, he’d already surmised she possessed the strength of a seasoned soldier. It was an apt description. She’d survived what he was certain had been a horrific life under Ruckley’s thumb. It was impossible not to admire her for having lived through such a nightmare without losing her ability to remain loyal to others. Percy cleared his throat.
“My threat was an empty one, Rhea. I said I would not turn you over to the Metropolitan Police, and I will honor that promise. I’ve no intention of denouncing you or your loved ones.”
His statement seemed to have no impact on Rhea as she remained still and nonresponsive. Silence spread a tenuous and uncomfortable web between them for several long moments. Percy was about to speak when she relaxed slightly. She eyed him with icy disdain.
“An apology, Mr. Rockwood?” The derision in her voice made Percy grit his teeth. Apologizing didn’t come easily to him, and as much as he deserved her scorn for threatening her, he didn’t enjoy the way it made him feel.
“A concession that as a member of the Rockwood family, I possess the familial trait of reckless conduct.”
“It’s a behavior that can get you killed,” she snapped. “You should be grateful you don’t know where Ruckley is. The man would make sport of you before he killed you.”
“Did Ruckley make sport of you or your sister, Rhea?” he asked quietly.
The moment he asked the question he realized how much he wanted to ease the pain he knew Ruckley had caused her. Percy was accustomed to being protective of his family. But Rhea was the first person outside of the Rockwood clan he’d ever wanted to keep safe from harm. Not even Nellie had aroused such strong protective instincts inside him. But he was certain Nellie hadn’t experienced the horror he was certain Rhea had endured.
When he’d found Nellie, she’d simply been a street urchin in need of care. A skinny girl of ten, she hadn’t trusted him at first. It had taken him several days to convince her that all he wanted was to help her. Nellie had finally agreed to go with Percy to the family orphanage, and there he’d put her under Mrs. Hughes’s tutelage.
Over the years he’d taken an interest in Nellie’s education and taken her for the occasional outing whenever she achieved a certain waypoint of success. Sebastian had once warned him that Nellie might take his interest and friendship to mean something deeper, but he’d brushed off the words of the head of the Rockwood brood. He’d been certain Nellie viewed him as a dear friend, just as he did her. Percy’s muscles knotted with disgust as he shoved his memories of Nellie into the far reaches of his mind. His gaze met Rhea’s, and her stoic expression didn’t surprise him. If he’d lived through the kind of existence she had, he would be just as unwilling to speak of the past as she was.
“I believe I’ve indulged your curiosity quite enough, Mr. Rockwood. I would like to return to the ballroom.” Bitterness threaded through her words as her contemptuous gaze swept over him.
Percy frowned. From the tension holding her rigid he had to believe he’d pushed her to the edge of an abyss. There was more to her story, but he was certain she’d shared far more with him than she had with anyone else. Unfortunately, the little she’d revealed to him had been given under duress. It would never make her trust him, and oddly enough Percy wanted her to feel safe with him—to believe he wouldn’t do anything to harm her. Tomorrow he’d call on her at Green Hill House. He’d find a way to convince her that she needed his help, just as much as he needed hers.
“I’ll see you safely back to the house,” he said quietly as he gestured for her to take his arm.
Rhea appeared ready to protest until he narrowed his gaze at her sternly. With an abrupt bob of her head, she took a quick step forward. Percy never had the chance to warn her about the particularly uneven section of the gazebo flooring in her way. A split-second later, Rhea uttered a low cry of alarm as she tumbled downward. Percy lunged forward and caught her before she hit the floor.
As he pulled her close, the warm scent of her filled his nostrils. She smelled like a honey blossom—sweet, but with a tantalizing note of beguiling heat. The intoxicating essence of her stirred his senses in the way he’d not experienced in a long time. Although fear still shimmered in her violet gaze, there was an awareness darkening
her eyes that gave her a sultry look. Instinctively, his body responded to her natural sensuality.
Every inch of him tightened and hardened in the space of seconds. The tip of her tongue flicked out to dampen her upper lip. There was no artifice in the action, and it ignited an acute need to taste her sweetly-shaped mouth. Without thinking, Percy bent his head and lightly caressed her mouth with his. A small gasp of surprise escaped her, but she made no attempt to reject him. Unable to stop himself he slowly deepened the kiss as he pulled her closer. She didn’t resist.
Instead, her fingers splayed across his chest as she leaned into him. It sent a rush of desire coursing through his blood. With a gentle nip on her lower lip, he startled her into parting her mouth beneath his. As he probed the honeyed taste of her warm mouth, she stiffened against him.
For the briefest of moments, he thought she would push herself free of his embrace. But she didn’t. Instead, her tongue tentatively mated with his. With each stroke of his tongue against hers, an unexpected hunger pounded its way into every inch of him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d tasted a woman so fresh and sweet.
In the back of his head, a warning bell rang out loudly. He ignored the sound as he continued to enjoy the tangy sweetness of Rhea’s mouth. The alarm clanged even louder until it broke through the desire gripping his body and alerted him to the sound of voices close by. With a jerk, he quickly released her, and put a small distance between them.
As the voices grew louder with each passing second, Rhea’s demeanor was one of calm serenity. The only sign she’d just been in a passionate embrace was the soft luminescent hue of her features and her plump mouth darkened by his kiss. The fact that she appeared completely unmoved by what had just transpired between them irritated him.
Most women he kissed still had the look of a lover wanting more when he released them from his embrace. Rhea Bennett looked as though she’d just exchanged a perfunctory kiss with him. In fact, the casual observer would never even contemplate the possibility that she’d just been kissed passionately. And the fact that she’d stirred such a raw desire in him without her experiencing the same emotion pricked his pride.