She wasn’t certain if it was a squeak or a whimper that left her throat at the moment she launched herself against his chest, only that she forgot propriety and vows as she felt his arms close around her.
Somehow the door was kicked open and she was nudged backward across a candlelit room. The single candle flickered as her skirt caught the writing table and wobbled the candlestick. Simon managed to catch it before it toppled over and without breaking their kiss.
Laura smiled under his lips as he pushed her without preliminaries down on the bed and slid a hand up under her skirts. She felt a moment of reservation.
“Don’t think,” he said as his hands found her core. “I promised I will not take advantage. This is for you.”
He played with her body, his expert fingers moving between her legs until she couldn’t think. Somehow he loosened her bodice and kissed her breasts before tugging a nipple between his teeth.
Small sounds escaped her as she writhed like a wild thing in his arms. Her release came swiftly. She cried out, the sound muffled by his kiss.
As she smiled sleepily, he pulled down her skirts and reached to caress his thumb across her jaw. “As promised, you are still untouched.”
Laura narrowed her lids. “Not entirely.”
He grinned. “I promised not to make love to you. Pleasuring you with my hand was never part of my promise.”
“You are a cad,” she said as he pulled her to her feet. “A handsome, arrogant, and seductive cad. I must learn the skill required to resist your seductions.”
Simon led her to the door and placed a kiss on her forehead. “I hope you never do. Now lock the door and sleep well, sweetheart. We have much to do tomorrow.”
Simon left Laura at the door, thankful to put some distance between them. He’d shoved his hands into his pockets during the walk upstairs to keep himself from reaching for her. Her seductive scent that had tickled his senses, the feel of her soft skin under his searching hands, and her big beautiful eyes, all together had left him undone.
And when she’d kissed him, it had taken every ounce of will inside him to leave her largely untouched.
He wanted her with a measure of insanity. Yet he knew that no matter how much they ached for each other, had he allowed himself to take her fully, she’d have regretted it in the morning. She was unsure of herself, her future, him. And he could promise her nothing. Even their friendship would end once he took a wife. Selfish desire would only be a temporary release. And he cared for her too much to press his intentions.
Damn chivalry.
He walked to his room on the far end of the hall. He shook off images of Laura undressing for bed and thought instead of the merchant. The horrific murder was the only thing that could distract him from his lustful thoughts.
The crime had been brutal. He envisioned the man lying among the rubbish, a death gurgle rattling in his slashed throat. As Crawford had bent over him, he’d tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t form. He’d expired too quickly.
Had Smoot tried to name his killer?
If only their arrival had been better timed, they might have been able to save the man. But once the blade cut his neck, he was doomed.
Whoever killed the merchant had the strength no half-starved whore would possess. No, the killer was male; of that, Simon had no doubt.
He blew out the lamp, plunging the room into shadow, and walked to the window. He looked out into the darkened street. A light fog was settling over London, giving the city an eerie air. He had the sensation of being watched, though he couldn’t see anyone lurking.
Dread filled him. Laura was in trouble. He’d thought her unease was simple worry that the Runners would find her. Now he wasn’t certain she wasn’t being watched.
She’d seen nothing the night of the murder. But did the killer think she had? Or was he merely obsessed with her, as Simon suspected?
A coach plodded past the house. Simon watched it vanish into the fog and let his mind turn to Westwick. He wasn’t confident Westwick’s story would fade away once the newspapers found another scandalous happening to intrigue readers.
Yes, the earl would eventually be forgotten as years passed and the courtesan-suspect would vanish into obscurity. However, the killer would always be a danger to Laura. She’d never feel entirely safe with him roaming free.
The door opened behind him. Dunston stepped into the room, his eyes squinting in the dim light. “Would you like me to help you undress, sir?”
“No, thank you. I am not ready for sleep.” He turned back to the window. “Could you set a footman outside Miss Prescott’s room? I have an uneasy feeling tonight. I’d rest better knowing she is guarded.”
Simon caught Dunston’s reflection in the glass and knew the valet had questions. Though the servant had worked for him for eight years and kept his secrets, he didn’t feel Laura’s story was one to share. The valet would do as he asked without question.
“Yes, sir.” Dunston withdrew.
Alone again, Simon watched the street for what seemed like hours before finally dropping, fully clothed, on the bed. Sometime during the night, tired of staring at the ceiling, he dozed. What followed was a nightmare of Laura, fleeing a madman with a heavy blade.
Laura awakened to a sound from the street and startled up on the bed. It took a second to realize where she was and she slumped back on the pillow.
The Harrington town house. Simon was near. Still, as she lay in the quiet, buried under soft sheets and a floral coverlet, she found sleep elusive. Her mind was awhirl over Simon’s tale of the merchant’s murder. She felt that he’d kept something from her. Perhaps he didn’t want to worry her, as she was already unsettled. The fear of being watched hadn’t abated within the safety of this town house.
It was streaming moonlight that finally drew her from the bed. A chill had come with the dying fire. She pulled a blanket off a chair and wrapped it around herself as she padded barefoot to the window. Pushing back the curtain, she discovered a fog had taken over the night and blanketed the city.
She stared off across the empty garden and shivered. Two murders followed her, mocking her, perhaps connected, perhaps not. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that danger was closing in on her.
Pressing her open palms against the cool glass, she sought confirmation of her fears, her heart beating a little faster. She saw nothing but fog and the dark shapes of trees and shrubs. The creaks and groans of the old house added to her uncertainty. Was she truly safe here?
Unable to summon up a desire to return to the bed, she let the curtain fall back into place and quickly crossed the room.
Peering into the hallway, she saw a young, strapping footman sitting outside the door. His head bobbed forward, then jerked back upright with a snore-snort. Laura smiled as she slipped out of the room and tiptoed down the hall.
It didn’t take long to find Simon’s room. The house was empty but for the servants, so she needn’t worry about stumbling onto Simon’s sister or parents. The last sputters of a dying lamp outside the door assured her that she was in the right place. She made very little sound as she slipped into the room and crossed to the bed.
He lay on his side on the coverlet. Quietly she slid in beside him, and snuggled close to his back. He rolled over and wrapped her in his arms.
“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked.
She shook her head. “There are too many sounds in this house and the fog can hide many dangers. I feel eyes watching from the darkness.”
Simon pressed his mouth to her forehead. “The doors and windows are locked. You are safe here.” Suddenly, he frowned. “How did you get past Webster?”
Laura shrugged. “I learned to move stealthily about Westwick’s bedroom. The longer he slept undisturbed, the less time I had to spend fending off his advances.”
“You are quite a resourceful woman.” There was admiration in his voice. She brushed her face against him.
His warmth comforted her. She rolled over and pressed bac
k against his chest. He snuggled her close. “Would you mind if I slept with you tonight?”
She felt sure he smiled. “If you must, though there are only two hours until daylight.”
“Then two hours it is.” She rubbed her cheek against the coarse hairs on his forearm and closed her eyes. For the next few hours, she slept more peacefully than she had in weeks.
Chapter Twenty
The sound of a crow squawking outside the window awakened Laura. She rolled over expecting to find Simon sleeping beside her. The bed was empty. There were female voices in the hallway that Laura assumed were the maids going about their duties. She stretched on the bed, wondering where Simon was and how she could explain her presence in his bed to the maids.
Luckily the women moved on and she hurried from beneath the warm covers. The floor was cool beneath her feet as she crossed to the door and eased it open. A peek outside confirmed that the hall was empty. She quickly hurried back to her room.
After washing up with tepid water from a pitcher and doing her best to detangle her hair with her fingertips, Laura pulled it back into a loose braid. With her toilet completed, she wriggled out of the borrowed nightdress and into her clothes. Slipping into her stockings and shoes, she made her way from the room.
At the top of the staircase, she stumbled upon a maid, who directed her to the breakfast room.
“Good morning,” Laura said as she walked into the pretty yellow room. The curtains were open and she could see that the fog was dissipating, with sunlight creeping through the remaining mist. The sun was welcome after several mornings of light rain.
Simon lifted his face from the newspaper and smiled. “Good morning.” He met her eyes. “Did you sleep well?”
“Very well, thank you.” She cast him a sidelong glance as she walked to the sideboard to examine the breakfast offerings. He was impeccably dressed, without even a hint of stubble to mar his perfect jaw. “And you?” She reached for a plate.
“Decently enough,” he said from behind her as she loaded the plate with creamed eggs, bacon, and pastries. A maid poured her tea as she joined Simon at the table.
“Thank you.” The maid nodded and left them.
Simon waited until they were alone before leaning forward on his elbows. “I had a bit of trouble sleeping with your backside pressed intimately against me.”
Laura flushed and lifted her nose. “I was quite properly clothed and wrapped in a blanket.” Her mouth twitched. “I do thank you for behaving. You were a perfect gentleman.”
He snorted. “The bane of a proper upbringing, I assure you. I would have preferred we’d been naked and doing much more than sleeping.”
She grinned. That he had behaved showed that he respected her and her wishes. Then she flushed, remembering his hand between her legs. Though he wasn’t quite the pillar of propriety, at least he’d tried. “Unfortunately, I will never have the chance to thank your mother for raising such a gentleman.”
Cocking a brow, he went back to his reading while Laura ate everything on her plate and returned to the buffet for another tart. She made no apologies for her hearty appetite. She was famished. When she’d finished, she cleared her throat.
Simon peered at her over the paper. “Yes?”
“I should get back to the school. Sophie will worry.” She looked down at her dress. “And I would like to wash and change. I fear I am a bit rumpled.”
Simon looked her over. “You look lovely.”
“Next to you, I am a drab mouse.” It was true. He wore a pair of cream breeches and a gray and cream striped waistcoat over a white shirt. His matching white cravat was perfectly tied and his cheeks freshly shaven. A charcoal gray coat hung casually over the chair behind him. “You must have dressed elsewhere. I didn’t hear a sound.”
“I didn’t want to wake you. Your snores indicated your need for rest.” His mouth twitched.
Her nose went up. “I do not snore.” She knew he teased and found enjoyment in the easy banter on the pretty morning. After the strain of last evening, she needed a reprieve from the gloom of the case.
“I sent around a note to your Sophie, so all is well.” He waved a hand at the footman lingering in the doorway and the man hurried over. “See that a bath is prepared for Miss Prescott and a clean gown found for her. My sister is about the same size.”
“Yes, sir.” The man walked away.
Laura opened her mouth. “I cannot stay here. It’s unseemly. I am without a chaperone.”
“There are plenty of servants to keep your reputation intact,” he said, handily dismissing her concerns. He stood, rounded the table, and pulled out her chair.
“Servants are not the same as a chaperone and you well know it.” She stood and faced him. “Your family will not be pleased when they hear gossip about the woman who stayed here when they were away. Who knows what they will think.”
“I shall explain that I found you lost in the fog and came to your rescue,” Simon teased.
“Not amusing.” She crossed her arms. “I insist you return me to the school before my already tarnished reputation rusts completely through.”
He frowned. The stubborn set of her jaw told him she was willing to fight over this. He sighed. “You may stay at the school for as long as you are safe. If I sense danger, you will move in here.”
Her body relaxed. “I shall get my gloves.”
“Not until we have found you a dress.” At her puzzled look, he continued, “If we are to attend the ball at Collingwood House, then you must be dressed properly.”
Laura blanched. She’d forgotten the plan to look for auction guests. Suddenly, the day dimmed. “I will not be a guest. Not even Miss Eva would risk her social standing for me.”
“You needn’t worry about Eva. And no, you will not be a guest.” Simon led her from the room and up the stairs. “You will be in disguise. You’ll not need to worry about discovery.”
Laura’s stomach soured. “It would be better if I watched the festivities from a landing above, or perhaps behind draperies. I cannot be seen; it is too high a risk.”
Simon shook his head as he led her into his sister’s room. A tub had been placed near the fireplace and a maid was laying out a towel on a chair. They stepped aside as the trio of footmen carried in buckets of steaming water and poured them out. Finished, they left again.
“It will be too difficult to spy when hiding behind draperies,” Simon insisted. They watched as the footmen returned and finished filling the tub. “Trust me, you’ll be perfectly safe.” He nudged her toward the waiting maid. “I’ll meet you downstairs in an hour.”
Laura’s scowl was her reply.
An hour and a half later, Laura came down the staircase, washed and fluffed and wearing a pale rose, slightly too long walking dress. Her hair was in a twist at her nape, and a small reticule dangled from her gloved wrist.
The frown changed to a grin. He knew she’d purposefully made him wait the extra half hour to irk him. But she looked so lovely that he couldn’t hold on to his annoyance.
“I don’t think Brenna has ever worn that dress quite so well,” he remarked, admiring the fit. The bodice skimmed over her curves downward to where a matching rose ribbon circled her small waist.
“I really don’t think taking me out is wise.” She moved the reticule to her other wrist. “What if I am spotted by someone who knows me?”
Simon moved to take her hand. “The chance of recognition is small. Didn’t you say that the earl never took you out in public? One ride through the city doesn’t count. With the murder hanging over his little band of slavers and wretches, no one would dare come forward to admit knowing you, or become a suspect himself.”
“Still, I am not comfortable with being seen publicly.”
The anxiousness in her voice was clear. He looked around and found a solution. He walked over to a row of pegs by the door, removed the largest bonnet he could find from the row, and returned to place it on her head. “If you keep your head down,
no one will suspect that you are the infamous Sabine, former courtesan and murderess.”
Laura tipped her head back and met his eyes. “I do not find your humor amusing.” She thinned her lips and adjusted the bonnet. “You’d better take care or you may be my next victim.”
He chuckled and leaned down. The light scent of lavender swirled around her. “I will gladly fall at your hand, but only if you tie me up and torture me first.”
With an exaggerated sigh, Laura shook her head. “You are horrible. I am a wanted murderess and still you cannot refrain from making light of the matter.”
Reaching for her hand, he pressed a kiss on her gloved knuckles. “I jest to keep you from too much worry. I promise you, love, that we will find the real killer. Then you’ll never again need to fret that your life, and neck, are in danger. You will be free to pursue whatever future suits you.”
Her scowl faded. “Putting this matter behind me does sound wonderful. Still, we may never find the killer. He may hide away, never to kill again.”
Though Simon suspected the killer was not finished, he wasn’t about to admit his feelings. “Hopefully with your help we can find at least one member of the auction party. Smoot turned us to a new avenue of investigation. If he was the victim of Westwick’s killer, there may be others who are in danger. Following a trail of bodies will eventually lead to the trail’s end and the culprit.”
Despite his assurance, she didn’t appear willing to forgive him his jests. He sobered. “Darling Laura, I promise you that I take this situation very seriously.”
Skepticism etched her features. “I would feel more secure if you explained the reason for this outing.”
He took her arm and turned her toward the door. “All in good time, Laura; all in good time.”
The dress shop was not crowded when Simon led her through the door. The scent of something exotic assailed her senses, as if the proprietress had sprinkled French perfume throughout the space. She nearly sneezed. “Someone should take away her perfume bottles.”
“The widow Jensen likes to give the allusion of having been born on some exotic shore.” He leaned in. “I have it on good authority that she was born to a merchant in Bath.”
The Scarlet Bride Page 18