Lady of Desire

by Gaelen Foley

  “What the devil are you doing here?” she whispered fiercely as the music started.

  “Widening my horizons, you might say.” Deftly leading her in the dance, he gave her an enigmatic smile.

  “So, it is as I feared,” she said tautly, her stomach in knots. “You sold the diamonds I gave you for this. To masquerade your way into the ton so you can plan even bigger and better robberies. That’s it, isn’t it?”

  “My clever lady, you have divined my scheme exactly. Damn me, have you seen the paintings Devonshire has in his gallery? I could make my fortune—”

  “You’re mad!” she cried in rising alarm. “You mustn’t! Blade, you must leave now and never come back! You’ll be caught—hanged. Trust me, it will never work.”

  “Why? You’re not going to tell on me, are you? After all”—he held her a bit more tightly—“there are things I could tell the ton about you, too. I have not forgotten how sweet you were in my arms,” he murmured, lowering his head and nearly brushing the tip of her nose with his own. She could smell the soapy clean warmth of his skin and the pleasing scent of his shaving lotion. “We aren’t through yet, you and I. There is much more of pleasure that I have to teach you.”

  “Do not mention that night!” she forced out.

  His wolfish smile widened with a gleam of white teeth. “Why not? You had your fun. You still owe me, you know.”

  “Blade—”

  “Rackford,” he whispered.

  “Whatever you want to call yourself, you will never get away with this! Really, it is too cruel of you to make Lord and Lady Truro believe you are their long-lost son—”

  “Jacinda, my heart, I am their long-lost son. I was jesting.”

  She searched his face in confusion. His expression was so perfectly open and earnest that it threw her. “But—how?”

  “By the usual way, I daresay.”

  She huffed at his irreverent answer.

  He laughed. “On my honor, my outlaw days are over. I have thoroughly reformed. Remarkable what a man can do when he’s faced with the noose,” he added sardonically.

  “What noose?”

  “The one they showed me when I got arrested and thrown into Newgate. I sure in blazes wouldn’t be in this dull place, otherwise,” he muttered under his breath.

  “Arrested?”

  Grimly, he nodded. “O’Dell set us up. He cornered little Eddie and terrified him into telling where we planned to strike next. O’Dell then simply told Bow Street where to lie in wait for us—a tidy way of getting rid of the Fire Hawks—but I assure you, the Jackals have not seen the last of me.”

  Her mind reeling, Jacinda studied him as they turned about the dance floor in time with the music. She had a feeling she was merely being drawn in, but she couldn’t resist hearing more of his cock-and-bull story. “I hope O’Dell didn’t harm the child,” she said warily.

  “He shook him up a bit, but you know the Knuckler. He’s none the worse for wear. I sent him to a boarding school in the country as his anonymous benefactor. Hopefully now he will make something of himself.”

  “What happened to Nate and the others?” she asked skeptically.

  “Transported to Australia. That’s why I’m here. We were all to be hanged until I told them who I am.”

  “Who you purport to be. It isn’t going to work, you know, and I am certainly not going to help you in your madness, if that is what you’re angling after. If anyone figures out your game, you’re going to be in huge trouble—”

  “Jacinda, I’m telling the truth! Try to understand,” he said more softly as he took in her bewildered gaze. “This is why I couldn’t tell you my real name that night in the rookery. I had kept it a secret all those years. None of my men ever knew of my high birth. They would never have accepted me. Don’t you remember I told you that I had run away from home as a lad?”

  “Yes, but…you cannot be serious! That monster of a father you ran away from—with a penchant for blacking your eye—was the marquess of Truro and St. Austell?”

  “The same.”

  “I don’t believe you!”

  “It’s true. Since my elder brother Percy’s death last winter, I became the heir. I did not intend to claim my rights because the final destruction of our line seemed a fitting punishment for everything he did to me.”

  “You’re jesting,” she said in awe.

  “I am not.” The murderous cold that came into his eyes sent a chill down her spine and seemed too genuine to be false, but she could only shake her head, rather dizzy with his claims and the endless circling of the dance. “You still don’t believe me,” he said after a moment in a flat voice.

  “I don’t know what to believe! As far as I know, you’re a hardened criminal.” Remembering anew to lower her voice, she glanced around nervously, making sure no one had noticed the intensity of their discussion.

  He stared sullenly over her head, scanning the crowd. “If you really thought that, then why did you leave me your diamond necklace?”

  She blushed in spite of herself. “The better question is, why didn’t you sell the blasted thing instead of turning again to robbery? If your people were really in need, all you had to do was hawk the necklace.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I couldn’t.”

  “Why not? None of your vile associates would buy it?”

  “No. I don’t take charity, Jacinda. I meant to give the necklace back to you. That’s why I came to Hyde Park to see you. You do remember that day, I trust?” he added in an acid tone.

  “Rather.” The reminder of how she had cut him quashed the foolish flutter of her heart and called to mind anew how he had thwarted her attempt to run away to her mother’s friends in France. “Well then, if you’re telling the truth that this is real, and that you didn’t pawn my necklace to fund your charade, then you may deuced well give it back to me at your earliest convenience.”

  He pursed his lips and looked away with mule-like obstinacy. “Can’t.”

  “Aha.”

  “I had to ditch it at the Taylors’ house. Jacinda, I’m telling the truth!” he protested as she scoffed. “It’s in a vase in the master bedroom. I was able to hide it there during the scuffle. Twenty Bow Street runners ambushed us in the middle of the job—”

  “Do you mean to say that Daphne Taylor has my diamonds?”

  He just looked at her.

  “Blade!”

  “Rackford. Jacinda, the Taylors’ house was the one we were robbing when we got caught. I did it for your sake, after what you told me. Aren’t you pleased?”

  “This is absurd! To think, I almost believed you for a moment! My diamond necklace magically vanishes, you show up to claim the Truro marquisate, somehow the authorities let you simply walk scot-free out of Newgate, and you expect me to believe this is not some glorious, giant con?”

  “It isn’t a con. What exactly are you suggesting?”

  “I’m suggesting that you somehow found out about the story of Lord Truro’s missing son and decided to play the part for your own gain. That you sold my necklace to fund your charade—”

  “That’s a damned lie!” he whispered in outrage. “Ask my father if you don’t believe me. He knows who I am. He made this scar on my brow. Ask your brother Lucien! He figured out the truth a long time ago—and for your information, they did not let me go scot-free. I had to agree to give Bow Street detailed information against some of the worst criminals in London. Do you think I am happy about making enemies of these men?”

  “So what? There’s no risk to you,” she whispered back at him angrily. “You just told me everyone in the rookery thinks Billy Blade is dead!”

  “Aye, and I will be, if these men learn I’ve ratted on them. I am no liar. But even if this were a con, what would you care, anyway? You loathe these people, the same ‘pompous hypocrites’ who were cruel to your mother. As I recall, that was a large part of the reason you were running away in the first place.”

  “An effort you foiled, as I r
ecall!”

  “So…you still refuse to acknowledge that I did it for your own good?”

  “It was not your decision to make. It was mine!”

  He clenched his jaw, visibly trying to school his temper, then shook his head in resolute patience. “Jacinda, Jacinda, my wayward little minx. Don’t you see?” Holding her a bit closer, his warm breath stirred the curls by her ear. “Now we can be together,” he murmured. “After the scare of Percy’s death, my father insists that I marry at once—to protect the imperiled family bloodlines, don’t you know. I heard you got out of your match with Lord Griffith—and bravo to you for taking my advice. Lord, what a dull, bloodless thing that fellow is. He could never tame you. So, what do you say? You and I are the only two people here who see through all these pompous fools. Besides, if we join forces, we can both rest assured that our secrets will be safe.”

  So, that’s what he’s after. She pulled back and looked up into his eyes, amazed and angrier with each passing second. “Our secrets?”

  “My past in the rookery. Your…dangerous weakness, my little ‘frail vessel.’ ” He smiled roguishly.

  Her jaw dropped. Obviously, his arrest and sojourn in prison had not made a dent in his arrogance. “Are you seriously asking me to marry you? Just like that?”

  He shrugged, all brash confidence. “Aye, just like that.”

  “Why?” she demanded. “So you can keep a close watch on me, make sure I don’t expose you?” Her voice climbed with anger. “So you can keep control of me, just like my brothers? Is that what you want?”

  “Now, Jacinda, wait a minute—”

  “No, you wait a minute, sir.” She shook her head at him. “Things have changed around here. After you hauled me back to my family, for your information, I found someone else!”

  CHAPTER NINE

  She thought he was going to explode, the way his face darkened and his muscles tensed beneath her hand, resting lightly on his shoulder as they danced.

  But he didn’t miss a step. The perilous moment passed.

  With a calculating gleam in his eyes, he forced a taut smile, then shrugged slightly. “Well. Be that as it may, we both know it’s me you really want.”

  Her eyes widened at the sheer arrogance of the man. “You are unbelievable!”

  Laughing softly, he bent his head down to her ear as he whirled her lightly over the dance floor. “Not at all, my lady. There are advantages in marrying me.” His warm breath sent shivers down her spine. “You’re worried about following in your mother’s footsteps, but rest assured I’ll keep you so satisfied you’ll never even think about straying.”

  “Ugh!” With an appalled gasp, she tore out of his arms at the edge of the dance floor and fled out the French doors to the veranda, furious and blushing profusely at his lascivious promise.

  Her cheeks flamed at the wanton memory that his words had summoned, of that night in his room. How unspeakably horrid, how odious he was! She had to get away from him before someone noticed her wild reaction to the scoundrel. She had to regain her composure.

  Rackford, or Blade, or whatever his name was—the beast came outside a few steps behind her. “Jacinda!”

  “Go away! You are not a gentleman!”

  He laughed.

  Trying in exasperation to escape him, she hurried down the shallow stone steps into the garden, but again, he followed her along the grassy allée and under the trellis of climbing roses, pursuing her with long, brisk strides.

  “Jacinda! Blast you woman, don’t put me off when I have just offered myself and my title to you on a silver platter. Forget your silly infatuation. We both know you belong with me.”

  “I’d rather die!”

  “Who’s the lucky fellow?”

  “None of your business!”

  “If it’s Acer Loring, I may have to shake you back to your senses.”

  “It’s not,” she retorted, hurrying ahead of him. “Go away!”

  “Who is it, then?”

  “Nobody you know!” The path she had been following suddenly came to a dead end, and she found herself facing a little fountain in a neat, circular garden “room” whose walls were tall, curved box hedges.

  As she stood there, not knowing where to turn, her heart pounding, his strong arms closed around her waist from behind her. Before she could even gasp, he turned her around and claimed her mouth in heated urgency, wrapping his arms around her.

  “Stop it!” she started to protest, but opening her mouth only invited his kiss more deeply. She moaned softly as his left arm tightened around her waist, his right hand sensuously, possessively cupping her nape.

  Oh, she knew the taste of him, the warm, beguiling sweetness of his mouth. She knew his touch, his smell. Billy… He gathered her closer in his arms, but she fought his dizzying potency and the urge to let her body melt against his. She willed herself to stop kissing him back. At her stubborn refusal to participate, she felt his lips curve against her mouth in a wicked half smile.

  “Come, my lady.” His voice had turned husky. He ran his fingertips along the line of her jaw, tilting her head back, forcing her to look into his eyes, aglow with hungry need. “Give me a proper greeting.”

  Slowly lowering his head, he kissed her lips apart with masterful demand.

  She did not have the strength to resist as he plundered her mouth. Unconsciously wrapping her arms around his neck, she clung to him.

  Billy…

  He slipped the red carnation out of his buttonhole and trailed its satin petals down her cheek as he kissed her, then tenderly tucked the flower behind her ear. The sweetness of the gesture made her ache with longing. She caressed his clean-shaved cheek, ran her fingers through his hair—but when she felt his hand cup her breast, she came back sharply to her senses. This was madness!

  She tore herself away, panting harshly. He reached for her again. She shoved him away. “No! I don’t want this. I don’t want you.”

  His jaw clenched. His eyes glittered with thwarted lust and anger at her denial. “Who is he?” he growled.

  “Lord Drummond,” she flung out in defiance.

  “Can’t say I know the man. I can hardly wait to meet him. What do you think he’ll say when I tell him about your little visit to Bainbridge Street? Or how you tried to seduce me in the carriage so that I would let you go on to France?”

  “Don’t you dare threaten me,” she whispered, murderously holding his gaze. “Two can play at that game, Blade. If you breathe one word about that night to Lord Drummond—or to anyone else—I will tell the whole ton about your past with your filthy, thieving gang.”

  He regarded her in simmering amusement. “Well, touché, my dear. Seems you learned a thing or two in the rookery.”

  “You’re the one who said I should learn to think like a thief. Just stay out of my way, and I will stay out of yours, agreed? You’re the one who dragged me back to this life. If I am to be confined here, then I intend to make the most of it.”

  He studied her shrewdly. “Staying away from you is the one thing I cannot promise.” She started to turn away with a scowl but he stopped her, grasping her arm. “I want you, Jacinda,” he warned softly. “One way or the other, I will have you.”

  “Try it, and my brothers will have your head. You’re in my world now, and if you cross me, Lord Rackford, you’re the one who will be sorry.” With that, she threw the red carnation on the ground and hurried back through the cool, dewy darkness of the garden, returning to the glittering ballroom before she was missed.

  Cursing himself for making a thorough botch of it, Rackford was left standing there, staring after her, not quite sure how to proceed, but thoroughly vexed to find himself rejected yet again by the maddening chit. He watched her marching rather shakily up the moonlit path, her golden curls swinging, her gauzy skirts rippling around her legs. She ran up the few shallow steps to the veranda and disappeared inside.

  He let out a long exhalation and started to drag his hand through his hair, then s
cowled at the reminder that they had made him cut it short.

  Lord Drummond? he thought furiously. Who the hell is he?

  Tugging at his starched silk cravat with a low growl, he stalked back into Devonshire’s sprawling palace, stomping the carnation into the turf as he passed. At the threshold of the French doors, he paused warily, feeling out of place again and frustrated to the point of exasperation with his clumsy ignorance of this glittering world and all its subtle dangers.

  Scanning the ballroom for his golden-haired quarry, his brooding gaze wandered back to the place where her family had been standing. Determined to have a look at this beau ideal of a man whom she deemed worthy of her hand, he moved warily through the crowd until he noticed his host talking with a knot of guests nearby. Devonshire would tell him who this Drummond fellow was. Reaching the young duke’s side, he endured another round of introductions, bowing, shaking hands with the men, proclaiming himself enchanted to meet their diamond-dripping women. Everybody gave him that same speculative look and seemed compelled to mention their daughters or nieces, but privately, he had already chosen his bride whether she bloody well liked it or not.

  As discreetly as possible, he pulled Devonshire aside after the guests’ meaningless chatter and asked him the all-important question. When the duke told him what he wanted to know, nodding across the ballroom to where the Knight clan still stood, Rackford could scarcely believe his eyes.

  “You’re jesting,” he said, glancing again at his host.

  Devonshire shook his head earnestly.

  “That’s…the same Lord Drummond of the Home Office?” he pursued, just to be certain.

  “Yes,” the duke told him, nodding.

  The name had not occurred to him till he saw the man. It hadn’t seemed possible. Now it appeared even less so. What the hell is she up to? Rackford narrowed his eyes.

  The radiant young Jacinda, whom he had already come to think of as his, was clinging rather desperately to the arm of a man who was seventy if he was a day. A man who was known as one of the most infamous Tory oppressors of Lord Liverpool’s government. She was openly flirting with the old tyrant. He saw it in her carefree laughter, her sweeping lashes, the pretty tilt of her head, the fluttering of her fan. He couldn’t believe his eyes.