It Happened One Night: Six Scandalous Novels

by Grace Burrowes

  “Let me guess,” he said somewhat sardonically. “The ring for the necklace?”

  Chloe nodded. “And something more.”

  “Something more?” he echoed, his tone sounding amused. He took a small step toward her.

  She nodded a little uncertainly.

  Beautiful little vixen.

  Merrick knew she was wary of him; he could see it in her eyes. And yet she stood there before him, making demands that most men wouldn’t dare impose.

  She was brave coming here…alone.

  “And what trade might that be?” he asked, sounding casual. He felt anything but. His body was taut and his loins were afire merely at the sight of her.

  She held out the bundle in her hand, teasing him with its presence. He hated to have to tell her that he already had the deuced ring. He’d followed her and watched as she’d hidden it, knowing she was no imbecile. She wouldn’t have stood before him with the ring in hand so that he could simply take it from her.

  “The ring,” she suggested coyly, “for the necklace…and your mask.”

  The little shrew.

  Merrick laughed softly. “And what is it you wish with my mask? Do you intend to join my merry band?”

  “Of course not!” she exclaimed, sounding utterly appalled by the notion. But then, she seemed to reconsider it. She was clearly deluded if she thought he would allow it.

  He asked her soberly, “What’s to prevent me from simply taking the ring?”

  “Go on, then,” she taunted with a slight curve to her lips and a sparkle in her eyes. “Take it.” She held out her hand a little farther, tempting him. “Do you think I’m such a dolt I would simply hand a thief a ring?” She shook her head. “No, sir, I’m afraid the ring is hidden elsewhere.”

  “I see,” Merrick said.

  And he did; he saw far more than he dared.

  Her breasts rose and fell with her breath and her nipples were taut against the bodice of her gown, taunting him with every breath she took.

  Merrick eyed her pointedly. “I can’t say I would bargain at that price. After all, I gave you the ring to begin with. What makes you think I wish it returned?”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “You’re here, are you not?” And she gave him a coy little glance.

  He wanted in that moment nothing more than to toss her over his shoulder like some barbarian and to carry her away to the cottage.

  “What if I should propose my own little trade?” he suggested, and for emphasis, pulled the ring from his coat and showed it to her.

  She gasped softly. “You followed me!”

  “Of course I followed you,” Merrick admitted without the least remorse. “What sort of thief would I be if I did not improvise?”

  She scowled at him, clearly annoyed. “Well, you have the ring, so what is it you wish from me? Why are you still here?”

  Merrick smiled softly.

  Chloe grit her teeth, angered that he had out-witted her. She should have known he would not deal fairly. He was a thief, after all!

  “The necklace…”

  Chloe blinked, disbelieving her ears. Surely he wouldn’t simply return it to her.

  “For a kiss.”

  Chloe’s brows lifted. “That’s all you wish from me? A simple kiss?”

  “No,” he replied. “But a kiss will do for now.”

  Chloe’s heart skipped a beat at his response.

  She dared to barter with him. “And what of the mask?”

  “The mask remains upon my person,” he declared, his tone unwavering.

  It didn’t matter.

  With a kiss she would know all she needed to know. “And how can I be certain you will stop with merely a kiss? You’re a thief, after all,” she told him. “Who is to say you’ll not…”

  “Ravage you?” he supplied with a sudden grin.

  Chloe nodded, her cheeks warming under his scrutiny.

  “Because you have my word,” he said simply.

  Chloe arched a brow. “And what worth is there in the word of a thief?”

  “If you do not trust me…you may walk away,” he suggested, but he withdrew the necklace from his pocket and dangled it before her, tempting her.

  She considered his proposal, completely disarmed by the fact that he would give up so rich a prize for just a simple kiss.

  “Have you never heard of honor among thieves, flower?” he asked her.

  Chloe started at his endearment.

  Flower.

  He’d called her flower.

  Lord Lindale had once called her the same.

  It was him.

  Emboldened by the knowledge, she told him, her heart beating faster, “But I am no thief, my lord.”

  He smiled behind his mask. And he didn’t correct her when she used his title. “Ah, but you are. This we both know.” He lifted up the ring and showed it to her, reminding her of her recent act of thievery.

  Chloe chewed upon her lower lip as she eyed both the ring and the necklace. Her belly fluttered wildly as she tried to determine what to do.

  A simple kiss, she reasoned…for it he would return Lady Fiona’s necklace.

  What harm could come of it?

  With her decision made, her heart flipped against her ribs. “And you’ll give me the necklace?” she asked, looking for reassurances.

  He nodded once, positively. “After…that is—” he dangled the necklace before her “—if you can live with the knowledge that this necklace might have fed an entire village.”

  Chloe’s brows drew together.

  It wasn’t fair that he should throw that at her. “It’s a matter of honor,” she told him, and couldn’t believe the words had passed her own two lips.

  For the longest instant their gazes locked.

  Merrick couldn’t believe what he was about to say.

  Merely a week ago he wouldn’t have considered this perspective, but a vision of Rusty’s children came to mind, their gentle, dirty little faces appealing to his sense of compassion. “And is your honor worth the life of a child?” Even as he asked, he decided, once and for all, that while honor was worth quite a lot, the price of any life was far too high.

  Chloe opened her mouth to reply, then closed it, clearly at a loss for words.

  It seemed to Merrick that they had both shared a revelation of sorts this week. He could tell by the look in her eyes that she no longer was entirely clear upon the answer. In that moment of epiphany there was a communion between them unlike that he’d ever experienced. His heartbeat quickened painfully.

  “No,” she answered at last, her voice soft, her eyes still locked with his own, and then she added, “Perhaps you should keep the necklace, after all.”

  “And the kiss?” he dared to ask, dropping the jewels into his coat pocket. His casual tone revealed not a trace of the dread he felt. “Shall I keep that, as well?”

  For a moment she didn’t respond and then she slowly shook her head.

  Merrick’s breath caught as she took a step forward, offering herself into his embrace. “This kiss is yours, if you desire it. A bargain is a bargain. It is my choice, after all, to let you keep the necklace.”

  Merrick needn’t any more encouragement. He closed the distance between them and swept her into his arms.

  Chloe moaned softly as he embraced her.

  Unable to resist, she melted into his arms. Dear God, she knew it was wrong to want him, but she did.

  She had been so very wrong…this kiss would, indeed, lead her heart astray.

  It had already gone astray.

  His lips touched upon hers and she whimpered softly, eager for the taste and warmth of his mouth. His tongue swept over her trembling lips, tracing the part, coaxing.

  “Open for me, flower,” he demanded, his voice hoarse. Chloe complied at once, parting her lips with a soft, desperate gasp for air.

  The sensation of his tongue entering her dazed her. The warmth of his body lit hers afire against the cool night air. She clung to him d
esperately, never wanting to let go.

  He must have sensed the weakening of her limbs, because his arm tightened about her waist, drawing her full against him so that she felt the hard lines of his male form.

  His tongue swept through her mouth, loving her with every stroke, tasting her, consuming her very soul. Chloe moaned softly and her body convulsed in secret places. Like a wanton, her breasts longed for the touch of his hand. Her body betrayed her, warring with her head.

  She needed to see his face.

  Her hand curled over his shoulder, reveling in the width and breadth of him. Her heart racing, she gripped at his mask in an attempt to draw it up to expose his beautiful face.

  He caught her wrist, preventing her. “Not yet,” he whispered against her mouth. “Not yet, Chloe.”

  Chloe shuddered softly at the intimate sound of her name upon his lips.

  It didn’t matter; she knew him by his taste.

  Desperate for this union with him, she dared to return his hungry kiss, pushing her tongue timidly into his mouth, giving as he gave.

  He groaned in response and she felt his body harden against her.

  Merrick’s body ignited with desire.

  She was kissing him back with such abandon that it fueled his lust beyond reason. His blood burned through his veins like molten silver. Caught in a fierce storm of desire, he lifted her against him and carried her away from the road, deeper into the field, away from prying eyes. This instant, his brain fogged with desire, he was no longer in command of his will.

  If she didn’t stop him, if she didn’t tell him no, he would take her…right here…in the grass.

  He lay her down, ravaging her mouth as they fell together.

  God help him, he craved not only the taste of her lips, but the sweet nectar of her beautiful body. His hands caressed her hungrily. He wanted to taste her, wanted to bury himself inside her, to feel her sweet body convulse with pleasure.

  Chloe never wanted him to stop.

  She was swept into a haze of passion, her body responding to his kisses with a fever of emotion. Never in her life had she felt this way about any man. Never had she longed for something more…to be kissed…to be held…to be loved.

  She’d never realized how empty she felt, until now…when the need to be filled was overwhelming.

  “I’m not who you think I am, Chloe,” he said, his whisper hoarse as he rolled to one side of her. His hands set her skin aflame wherever they touched.

  Chloe trembled. “I know,” she whispered back.

  It didn’t matter.

  Their lips met once more, their tongues entwining feverishly. His hands slipped beneath her gown, caressing her leg…first one…then the other…heat sliding upward to her most private regions. Chloe braced herself. Though she wanted him to, she craved it, she had never been touched there before.

  Her body shuddered as his fingers slowly ascended, teasing her with their excruciatingly slow ascent.

  “Please,” she whimpered, though she hadn’t the first clue what she was begging him for.

  Merrick was consumed in a rage of passion.

  Blinded by desire, he ripped off the mask, wanting nothing at all between them. He tossed the mask aside.

  Her skin was so soft…lovely…

  “You’re so beautiful, Chloe,” he whispered, and meant it from the depths of his soul. She was beautiful inside and out. He felt her tighten the muscles of her thighs and demanded, “Open for me, flower.”

  She did so, and his loins throbbed violently, imagining the way it would feel inside her…like soft, deep velvet. When, at last, he touched her mons, his heart nearly burst through his chest. She was damp for him. He closed his eyes and gently slid a finger inside, and then stopped.

  She was a virgin.

  The knowledge sobered him.

  They were in a field, in the cold damp night air. Anyone could come by and spy them. His breathing labored, he removed his hand from beneath her skirt. This wasn’t the way he wanted her to remember her first time.

  She stiffened. “What’s wrong?”

  Nothing was wrong.

  Nothing at all.

  His heart swelled with something like love. He wanted more for Chloe than for her to lose her virginity in the middle of a dirty field on a cold, damp night.

  Still, he closed his eyes, craving the taste of her more than he craved his next breath. Lifting his finger to his lips, he slid the tip into his mouth, savoring the sweet nectar of her body. Christ, he’d not be deprived of this much.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice trembling.

  He slid his hand through her hair, caressing her. “It’s nothing, flower. Nothing at all…I just don’t wish to hurt you.”

  Chloe’s heart sank.

  The look upon his face was so full of regret.

  He might not want her for more than this, but he’d given her one thing, at least. He’d trusted her enough to remove his mask. Her hand moved to caress his face, feeling the contours of his face.

  Her heart pounded so loudly she knew he must hear it, as well.

  And then she realized it wasn’t her at all…there was a roar in the distance. The ground reverberated beneath them.

  “Do you hear that?” he asked her, his head lifting to the sound.

  Chloe thought, at first, that it might be thunder, but then she recognized the sound.

  Merrick realized it first and leaped to his feet, pulling her quickly up from the ground.

  For an instant they stared at one another, panic-stricken, and then Chloe took him by the hand. “This way!” she demanded and dragged him behind her, stopping only long enough to seize his mask from the ground.

  She pulled him toward the horse she had tethered. Protecting Ian was her first concern.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chloe and Merrick were no sooner settled together on the horse when the approaching horses came thundering to a halt before them.

  It was the constable and four of his men.

  Merrick picked at something in her hair—weeds perhaps—and her face burned. She knew how it must appear. She could scarce face Constable Tolly when he spoke to her.

  “Good evening, Lindale,” he said to Merrick. And then to her, “Evening, Miss Simon.”

  “Evening, Constable Tolly,” Chloe replied, but she averted her face, too embarrassed to face him. Her reputation would be irrevocably damaged after this; it was inevitable. It was all she had left of value and it wasn’t as though she would have any recourse. She wasn’t nobly born and Ian wasn’t required to make things right between them.

  It didn’t matter, she told herself.

  It had been her decision and she would live with the consequences.

  Chloe averted her gaze, staring blindly at the horse’s mane.

  As awkward as the moment was for Merrick, there was only one thing he regretted—the look upon Chloe’s face.

  “Constable,” he said in greeting.

  The constable cleared his throat. “If you will, please forgive the lateness of the hour. I journeyed from Edinburgh as soon as I heard about Miss Simon’s unfortunate incident.” He studied Chloe carefully. “Are you quite all right, Miss Simon?”

  Chloe lifted her chin, but wouldn’t look at him. “Of course,” she said. “Lord Lindale was…” She peered back at Merrick uncomfortably.

  Merrick knew she hadn’t any guile. She hadn’t the first clue what to say. “We were just returning from Rusty Broun’s,” he explained to the constable.

  Chloe glanced back at him, something like surprise in her expression. He could tell her brain was quick at work putting the pieces together. He certainly hoped he was right about her, because if he wasn’t, he was putting more than himself and Ian at risk. He was putting Rusty at risk, as well.

  “His little girl is ill,” Merrick improvised, ignoring the look upon Chloe’s face. “Miss Simon was kind enough to attend the child.”

  The constable’s brows rose. Once again he eyed Chloe and
this time his eyes traversed the length of her, taking in her disheveled state, no doubt. “I should say it’s quite the thing that you could take the time to accompany her, my lord. I’m sure you should feel honored, Miss Simon.”

  Chloe swallowed. He could hear it clearly. “Yes, of course,” she said, her voice a bit shivery. She still wouldn’t face the constable. Her gaze remained steadfast upon the horse’s mane. She reached out and lifted a coarse strand of hair and spun it idly between her fingers.

  Nothing escaped the constable’s quick eye. Merrick knew he noted everything, from the way she skirted his gaze, to the strands of grass that adorned her beautiful hair. He would have plucked them out for her, but he didn’t wish to call any more attention to them than was already inevitable. He knew she’d made a tremendous sacrifice for his sake, and he fully intended to make this right for her.

  She would not be ostracized, nor humiliated—not any more than she already felt this evening.

  Merrick intended to make her his wife.

  He didn’t care that she hadn’t the bloodline his father was seeking. She was everything Merrick wanted. He just couldn’t give her Ian’s name and he couldn’t tell her the truth until he found the answers he sought.

  “I suppose,” the constable suggested, “I should pay Rusty a visit. The poor man has borne more than his share of loss. Nothing serious, I hope?” he asked, looking directly at Chloe.

  Chloe shook her head.

  Good lass, Merrick thought. The less said the better.

  Obviously, thinking to reach Rusty before Merrick could alert him, the constable said, “I’m certain Miss Simon is weary after the evening’s trials. If it suits you, my lord, I’ll return first thing on the morrow.”

  “Of course,” Merrick replied, unruffled by the veiled threat. He knew without a doubt that Rusty would cover for him, but the constable’s incessant hounding shed a little light on one of the reasons Ian may have fled Glen Abbey. Aside from the fact that Ian likely sought his own answers, the constable evidently suspected something. His brother was probably feeling the wall at his back.