How to Steal a Thief’s Heart

by Wolf, Bree

  Tonight, she would bore him to tears and send him running for the hills!

  “Good evening, my lord,” she mumbled, her gaze no more than flitting to his before returning it to the glass in her hands.

  A chuckle rumbled in this throat, and he stepped closer. “You seem not quite like yourself. Are you unwell?”

  Moving a step away, Caroline turned to allow her gaze to sweep over the distant dancers. “I’m quite well, my lord. Thank you.” She all but turned her shoulder to him, gently indicating her disinterest.

  Instead of taking the hint, however, the Black Baron stepped around her, his dark gaze seeking hers. “Would you like to dance?”

  His question slammed into her like a punch to the stomach, and Caroline could not prevent her eyes from widening in shock. Her hands tensed on her glass as panic flooded her being.

  Never had anyone asked her to dance! Certainly not an eligible peer! And definitely not with such persistence! What on earth could he want? Was this a game? A wager perhaps?

  His dark eyes sparkled with mischief as though he understood her discomfort very well and enjoyed it immensely. “You cannot tell me you do not enjoy dancing, Miss Hawkins.” A teasing grin tugged on his lips. “After all, it is such an…exciting pastime.” His brows rose as though to imply a deeper meaning.

  Caroline swallowed, fighting down the urge to slap him. She rarely lost her composure but, for some reason, this man riled her. It took no more than a look or a word, and she felt the deep desire to claw his eyes out. “I’m afraid I’m a poor dancer, my lord,” she replied, willing her voice to remain even. “You’d be well-advised to ask a more proficient lady.”

  He sidled closer, forcing her to take a step back in order to maintain an appropriate distance. “I don’t want a proficient dancer,” he all but whispered in her ear as his head lowered to hers. “I want you.”

  Caroline gritted her jaw as his warm breath fanned over the side of her neck, oddly enough, reminding her of her masked savior. He’d possessed the same audacity. Two men cut from the same cloth, and they’d both chosen to annoy her. What luck!

  “I’m afraid I must decline,” Caroline finally willed herself to say in a quiet tone as she lifted her gaze to his for the barest of seconds. “I feel a bit faint at present and—”

  “Is that an excuse?” he demanded with a chuckle.

  Her eyes snapped up. “I beg your pardon.”

  For a moment, he simply looked at her before his gaze swept over the guests nearest to them. Then he lifted a hand and ran it leisurely through his dark locks. Upon lowering his arm, his knuckles brushed against hers, the look in his eyes telling her that it had been anything but accidental. Another tease! Another challenge! “Do you dislike me?”

  Caroline swallowed, feeling her control beginning to slip. “I do not know you well enough, my lord, to—”

  “But you dislike my company,” he stated with a wicked grin as he all but peeked over the rim of her glasses and met her eyes.

  “I do not,” Caroline forced herself to say, her hands on her glass tensing so tightly that she feared it would soon yield. “I merely prefer to be left alone.”

  “Is that so? Then what pastimes do you enjoy aside from your little embroidery circle?”

  “I—” Her chin snapped up, and she stared at him. “How do you know that? I—”

  “Don’t look so shocked,” he chided. The twinkle in his eyes told her that she was reacting exactly the way he’d wanted her to. “That can’t possibly be your deepest and darkest secret.”

  Caroline felt the blood drain from her face.

  “You look out of sorts,” he commented before he moved closer yet again, his hand coming to take hold of her elbow.

  Caroline felt her breath shudder past her lips at the contact.

  “Perhaps you should sit.” Without another word, he steered her a few steps to the side where a row of chairs had been set up against the back wall. “Better?” he asked, after all but pushing her down to sit.

  Caroline could do little else but stare at him, utterly disgusted with herself for her inability to simply ignore him. Why couldn’t she ignore him? What was it about him that had her so on edge? Was it the way he looked at her as though he truly did know her deepest and darkest secret? Was it the way he kept moving close, his large body all but dwarfing hers? Or the way he kept touching her in passing, the tips of his fingers trailing ever so lightly across her skin as he reached for the glass in her hands?

  “Allow me to freshen up your drink.”

  And then he was gone, and Caroline gulped down a deep breath, willing her wits to recover, to take up position and ready themselves. Now, more than ever, she needed them.

  I want you.

  His whispered words sent a shiver down her spine, and she closed her eyes, reminding herself that no matter what he said, he couldn’t possibly mean it. After all, no one had ever cared to know her. Perhaps his motivation was less than honorable. In all likelihood, it was. Perhaps there was a wager at White’s. Perhaps he needed something from her in order to win it. But what? A dance? A kiss?

  Then why hadn’t he simply charmed her? Caroline wondered, having witnessed many rakes and the games they played. As a well-established wallflower, she lived on the cusp of other people’s lives, almost invisible, but there nonetheless.

  If Lord Markham was like them, then why was he not charming her? Paying her compliments? Why was he riling her? The look in his eyes had told her that he did what he did with intention. He wanted to ruffle her feathers, but why? What was in it for him?

  “Here.” Appearing beside her as though out of nowhere, he settled the glass back into her hands, his own lingering for a second longer than necessary.

  “What do you want?” Caroline asked, turning to look at him. “Why are you here?”

  His dark gaze lingered, studying her before he took the chair to her right. “I’ve come for the pleasure of your company, dear Caroline.” A wicked smile curled up the corners of his mouth as he shifted in his seat, his hand brushing her knee as he did so. “Do you object?”

  Surging to her feet, Caroline thrust her glass back into his hands as he followed suit. “Yes, I do object,” she snapped in hushed tones, praying that no one was taking notice. “And I’d appreciate it if you’d refrain from addressing me so informally, my lord.”

  His grin widened and, once again, she felt his body move closer to hers without him taking a single step. “What address would you prefer?” he teased, his gaze lingering in a way that quickened her breath.

  “Miss Hawkins, if you must,” she told him, knowing that she’d done nothing to dissuade him. That cocky smile of his told her everything she needed to know. He was far from done with her. Whatever he wanted, she’d only stirred his interest by losing her temper and lashing out at him. What was she to do? What if he kept seeking her out? What if he were to notice things? Like her spectacles?

  He took a sip from her lemonade, then held the glass in front of him, his knuckles only a hair’s breadth away from touching the fabric of her dress. “I have an altogether different one in mind,” he whispered, leaning closer, and she could feel the back of his hand brushing against her belly. “More fitting.”

  Caroline sucked in a sharp breath before she set her jaw. Why did he keep touching her? To unnerve her? To make her lose control? Indeed, if she could not dissuade him, then she would have to look for an alternative solution.

  Inhaling a deep breath, Caroline decided to risk it all. “Well, apparently, there’s nothing I can say that will see you walk away. So pray tell, what is it that you want?” she demanded, her eyes now meeting his without the slightest hesitation. “I will not for a second believe that you’re here because you enjoy my company.”

  The left corner of his mouth twitched as he watched her, something odd lurking in those dark eyes. “Ah,” he mumbled, “there she is.”

  Caroline frowned. “I beg your pardon.”

  Once more glancing around th
e room, Lord Markham moved to stand at her side, pretending to observe the dancers. “Why is it that you pretend to be someone you’re not?” He chanced a look at her, his gaze traveling from her head all the way down to her toes. “Why are you wearing this disguise?”

  Cold shivers chased themselves down her spine as she willed air into her lungs. “I do not know what you mean,” she forced out through gritted teeth. “If you dislike the way I dress, then you’re welcome to—”

  Shaking his head, he chuckled. “Why can you not simply answer a question?” He moved to look at her. “What are you hiding?”

  A puff of air slipped past her lips. “I…”

  His gaze teased her to answer and, rather belatedly, Caroline realized what a fool she was being. “Very well,” she said, straightening her shoulders. “I have secrets as does everybody else.” She gave him a deep smile. “Including you.”

  A muscle in his jaw twitched and, yet, his composure never slipped.

  “Ah! I’m right,” Caroline declared triumphantly, then all but flinched when heads turned toward her, eyes narrowing as they swept over her with interest before moving to him.

  Blast it! Gritting her teeth, Caroline cast him another glare before leaving him standing and heading off to calm down. Indeed, if he threatened to unearth her secrets, perhaps she ought to repay him with equal measure. No doubt a man like Lord Markham had a skeleton in his closet!

  Probably more than one.

  Chapter Fifteen

  A Man’s Secret

  Pierce wanted to stop her but he knew that that was impossible.

  Or at least inadvisable.

  Lingering on the rim of the dance floor a little longer, he then proceeded to make his rounds, greeting an acquaintance here and there while his gaze swept the crowd, looking for his little mouse. She’d threatened him!

  He chuckled.

  Indeed, the notion of her looking into his life to unearth his secrets was unsettling. After all, Caroline Hawkins was no simpering miss. She had a backbone, no matter how much she sought to hide it. And so far, he’d always seen her go after what she wanted with uncompromising determination. If she wanted to unearth his secrets, he had no doubt she would!

  That, he could not allow.

  Still, Pierce knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that he could not simply walk away. She would haunt him. His thoughts. His dreams. She would be on his mind always, robbing him of sleep and distracting him when he could ill afford it.

  He needed to unmask her, learn her secret, her reason for this ridiculous get-up. Perhaps then, he would be able to think of someone other than her.

  His feet stilled and his eyes narrowed as he caught the distant image of a greyish dress. Turning in that direction, Pierce crossed the ballroom, certain that no other woman would have chosen that color to wear to tonight’s event.

  In an odd way, she stood out like a sore thumb.

  The ball was in full swing. People moved back and forth, dancing and drinking, chatting and laughing. The noise was deafening, mingling with the soft notes of the orchestra in the corner. Dark had long since fallen this time of year, and the insides glowed with countless little flames, casting their light across the assembled guests. Warmth lingered, almost oppressing, and he saw more than one flushed face. Women hurried back and forth between the powder room and the dance floor, their eyes glowing with excitement.

  Only his little mouse seemed ill at ease as she stood by the back wall.

  The look in her eyes spoke of exhaustion, and she continued to rub the bridge of her nose.

  Standing back, Pierce watched her, feeling an inkling of guilt for having tortured her earlier. Still, she’d held her ground, and he was proud to have found a worthy adversary. He longed to speak to her again. However, the ballroom had proved to be the wrong place.

  The dark alley had suited them better.

  With a smile, Pierce remembered how boldly she had responded to his kiss after her initial shock had passed. Would she do so again?

  His pulse quickened at the thought of her lips once more pressed to his own, and he stalked closer, careful to remain hidden to her.

  Sipping another glass of lemonade, she spoke to her mother before her features darkened, a hand to her head. Mrs. Hawkins smiled at her, a few words leaving her lips before she turned back to the small circle around her.

  After setting down the glass, his little mouse left the ballroom.

  Pierce immediately followed. He saw her slip out through the arched doorway toward the powder room. Careful to remain unseen, he kept to the back, moving quickly where he could not be spotted until he reached that same doorway and hurried through.

  The light was dimmer here, and the small opening kept out much of the noise.

  Glancing around, he found an adjacent room unoccupied. From the looks of it, it seemed to be a sitting room without a distinguishable purpose. Thus prepared, he huddled in the doorway, praying that Caroline would reemerge from the powder room alone.

  If not, all this would have been for nothing.

  A most depressing thought!

  Luckily, Fortune smiled on him this night.

  The moment his little mouse walked past the doorway hiding him from her eyes, his hand gripped her arm while the other covered her mouth. Then he hauled her into the empty room.

  She stiffened in his arms, a shriek fighting to make it past his hand, and so he quickly closed the door with his boot. “It’s me,” he whispered near her ear, and she immediately stilled. “Don’t scream unless you have a strong desire for company.” Slowly, he released his grip.

  Without hesitation, she whipped around, her blue eyes wide and her spectacles askew. “What are you doing?” she demanded as her gaze wandered from him to the door and those beyond. “Do you have any idea what would happen if…?” Her teeth gritted together, and a frustrated growl rose from her throat.

  Chuckling, Pierce leaned back against the door. “Our earlier conversation was cut short, and so I thought—”

  “You thought what?” she snapped as she charged toward him, her forefinger jabbing accusingly in the direction of his chest. “To compromise me for the sake of a conversation?”

  He smiled. Yes, this was more like it!

  Uncrossing his arms, Pierce reached out and snatched the spectacles from her nose. Then he held them up to his eyes, blinking several times as her face became distorted. “Why on earth do you wear these?”

  Anger burned hot in her cheeks as she stared at him, momentarily too overcome to find the right words to hurl at his head. However, the moment passed quickly. “What is wrong with you?” Again, she charged him, this time in order to retrieve her spectacles.

  Fortunately for him, his arm was longer than hers.

  Still, that didn’t keep her from berating him further as she tried to reach for her belongings, cursing quite admirably when she failed yet again. “Very well,” she finally hissed. “Keep them.” Then she spun on her heel and marched toward the French doors across the room.

  “Don’t be foolish,” Pierce said, hurrying after her. “It’s freezing out there. You’ll catch a cold.” In the last moment before she could pull open the door, he reached her, once more trapping her in his arms as he hauled her back against the wall.

  With her wrists trapped in his grip, she stared up at him. “What do you care? Clearly, you’re determined to ruin me, to ruin everything I’ve…” She swallowed, her lips clamping shut.

  Inhaling a slow breath, he searched her face. “Everything you’ve…what?”

  Resignation came to her eyes. “Let go of me.” Her voice rang weak, and he felt all fight leave her body. “Please.”

  Sighing, Pierce did as she asked. “I’m sorry. I never meant to…ruin anything.”

  She rubbed her right wrist before her gaze rose to meet his. “Then why are you doing this?”

  He snorted, then shrugged. “I want to understand,” he finally said, handing her back her spectacles. “There’s something about you that�
��I’ve never seen in anyone else before.” All humor seemed to have left, replaced by a seriousness that felt unfamiliar. “You’re not who you seem to be.”

  Averting her gaze, she paused. “But why should that matter to you? Nothing I do matters to anyone. I—”

  “That’s not true.”

  “How would you know?” Her gaze narrowed as she watched him, the same curiosity in her blue eyes he felt every time he looked at her.

  Pierce huffed out a deep breath, knowing he could not answer her without revealing more than he was willing to. “There’s depth in your eyes,” he finally said, surprised to see a soft blush come to her cheeks, “and compassion and an iron will.” He cracked a smile at her. “I saw the way you peeked over the rim of your lenses and I couldn’t help but wonder why. There seems to be no logical reason for it and, yet, I’m certain there is one because otherwise you wouldn’t be wearing them.” He shrugged. “I was curious. I still am.”

  Sighing, she all but fell back against the wall, her eyes closing. “No one ever sees me,” she whispered before her gaze settled on his once again. “No one. I’m all but invisible,” she lifted up her spectacles, “because of these. Because I dress the way I do. Because I wear my hair the way I do.” She touched an absent hand to her temple where a single tendril had come loose. “These are all little things but, together, they hide me.”

  Staring at her, Pierce knew not what to say.

  All he knew was that she was magnificent. Her blue eyes shone with such intensity that he wondered how anyone could fail to notice how lovely she was. Her thoughts were sharp and precise, and reason governed her steps. Still, all she did whispered of kindness and compassion and the willingness to sacrifice in order to help.

  “Why?”

  Her lips thinned, and he could see her defenses were operational. “That is none of your concern.” Her voice was sharp, but not as harsh as he would have expected. She held his gaze before her own narrowed, her head cocked sideways in thought. “While we’re on the subject, what is your secret?”