Passion and Pretense

by Susan Gee Heino

  No, he most certainly did not. He was breathtakingly not horrible. Not at all. And to think, she’d hoped the man would not shave. Good gracious, what had she been thinking?

  “I’m not so sure you want to go through with this plan,” Maria said.

  Oh yes she did! No, wait. She needed to be reasonable. This was no awkward hermit. This was a worldly and experienced rogue. If even half the things Maria had heard about him were true, Penelope could be getting herself into very hot water by so much as contemplating having anything to do with this person.

  Yet, how could she not? He was so obviously perfect in every way. Perfect for her plan, that was. He was exactly the sort of person Anthony would be desperate to keep her away from. One look at him and everyone would want to keep their sisters away from him! Egypt would not seem far enough.

  “Penelope, you’re not honestly thinking of…”

  “No, certainly not,” Penelope said quickly, knowing it was what she ought to say. “I see my initial estimation of him was a bit hasty.”

  “Indeed! Heavens, but he looks as if he could eat you alive.”

  Yes, didn’t he, though? She never thought she’d find herself so eager to become someone’s meal. And he still had his eye on her! She couldn’t look away even if she had tried.

  “I think we should go find your mother,” Maria advised.

  Penelope wasn’t certain she remembered what a mother was. Oh yes. Mamma was the woman who would take one look at Lord Harry’s expression and whisk Penelope home to be locked up with chains. No, if this plan was going to have any hope of succeeding, she must avoid her mother at all costs.

  But Lord Harry, it seemed, decided not to cooperate. Without so much as a nod in her direction, he took his gaze from her and continued on through the crowd. Well, that was a fine way to treat his future fiancée! She had half a mind to go stalking after him.

  “We should go sit down,” Maria said, taking Penelope’s arm and leading her off the dais toward a nearby row of chairs.

  Penelope had to admit sitting might be a good idea just now. She’d suddenly realized she’d forgotten to breathe. How odd.

  She followed Maria—who did not let go of her—but spared one last glance after Lord Harry. He also spared one glance her way. She caught his cold gray eyes one last time, just before he stepped out through a rear doorway. This time his smile was accompanied by an approving nod.

  She had to remember to breathe again as Maria deposited her in a chair.

  “That is not someone you need introduction to,” Maria announced.

  “No, of course you are right.”

  After all, it seemed as if Lord Harry saw no need for introduction, either. His gaze had been as familiar as if they’d been well acquainted for years. If he’d spoken one word to her while staring the way he had, Anthony would have gladly called the man out.

  “Stay here. I see your mother, and I’m going to get us something to drink,” Maria said and scurried off toward the long table at the other side of the room where liveried servants poured weak lemonade.

  Yes, Penelope saw her mother, too. The woman was barely twenty feet away, chatting with some other matrons, their feathers and turbans bouncing merrily. The woman hadn’t seen her daughter yet.

  Penelope chewed her lip. What should she do? It would only be a moment before Maria came back or before Mamma noticed her. Lord Harry was gone from the assembly. He had not spoken to anyone, and it seemed they had no friends or acquaintances in common. It would appear she had lost any chance to gain that introduction.

  Unless, of course, they truly did not need one.

  HER EYES WERE EVERY BIT AS BLUE AS HE’D REMEMBERED them. The rest of her was rather easy to look at, as well. And she was wearing that scarab again, as if to taunt him with it. Perhaps she was. He knew she’d been looking for him, hoping to catch a glimpse of him here at his uncle’s ball.

  He’d been hoping to find her, too. Certainly there was no other reason he’d bothered to show up. If he really wished to give his uncle a happy birthday, he’d have stayed away.

  But he hadn’t had any luck finding the girl through any other means, so he decided to try his luck here tonight. And he’d succeeded. He’d found her, and she’d found him.

  He’d seen the expression on her face when she saw him. Hell, he didn’t entirely expect her to recognize him, but she had. He’d seen her lips, watched her speak to her companion. It’s him. Oh yes, she’d been looking for him, indeed.

  Why, he could not be sure. Should he be flattered? Judging from her expression, she’d expected him to appear in the same condition he had last week.

  Well, that had been a mistake. He’d not at all meant to be seen that night.

  Tonight, however, was different. He fully expected to be seen. He was glad that not only was he seen, the seer had approved of what she saw. Indeed, she approved very much, and he rather liked that.

  It would make it all that much easier to take back the scarab. He’d become rather well versed in removing jewelry—among other apparel—from ladies. Getting that little amulet back into his possession, and learning how she came by it, would be child’s play. Simple and quite enjoyable.

  Of course, first he had to meet the girl. He still did not know who she was, but the fact that she was here indicated she was someone. She would have good connections, at least. And that might pose a difficulty. Good connections did not often approve of him.

  Usually, he enjoyed that. Let the old man suffer shame for his actions; let him cringe with embarrassment at the very mention of his name. It was nothing less than the pompous hypocrite deserved. Still, in this particular instance, it was proving a nuisance. Harris needed to find out about that woman. He needed a way to her.

  Unless, of course, she would simply come to him.

  Good God, but was she doing just that? He’d gone out of doors to clear his head, to avoid his uncle, and to plan his attack. It never dawned on him the chit might be so dramatically smitten she’d actually follow him out here. Yet here she was, stealing out through the doorway, peering over her shoulder for fear of being caught. He ducked into the shadows.

  She hadn’t seen him, but she was clearly looking for him. She could have no other excuse for being here just now, so close on his heels. And she’d left her companion behind, he noticed. He waited and watched.

  She glanced nervously around, the moonlight playing off the shimmering silk of her gown. It was the same amber color as the orb carried by the scarab she wore at her neck. That enviable beetle hung from a golden chain, resting snugly just above the creamy white mounds of taut female flesh. Harris itched to get his hands on all of it.

  When at last she had crept safely away from the door to be hidden from those within, Harris made his move. He stepped up close behind her, dropping his voice low and hoping she did not start and run away.

  “You are looking for someone, miss?”

  She did jump a bit, but she did not bolt. She took a quick step back and turned to face him. Ah, but that scarab did look happy positioned as it was against her satin smooth skin.

  “You!”

  “You were looking for me?”

  “Er, yes, actually I was, Mr. Chesterton. I mean… Lord Harry.”

  So, she knew who he was. Not surprising, since anyone she asked would have taken great joy in expounding on his many vices and disagreeable qualities. What was surprising was that she must have heard all this and still had come out here after him. She was taking quite a risk, being alone with him here. He could hardly wait to learn why.

  “Then I am the most fortunate man in all London, Miss… er, Miss…”

  “Penelope Rastmoor.”

  Blast it, this was Rastmoor’s sister? He hadn’t seen the man in years, but he’d always thought well of him from the few friendly dealings they’d had over the years. Damn, but he didn’t much enjoy the idea of toying with a decent cove’s sister. After all, if he’d have been fortunate enough to have a sister, he suspected h
e’d not play nicely with anyone fool enough to toy with her. He doubted Rastmoor would be any more charitable.

  Still, the chit had come out here of her own free will…

  “Perhaps you know my brother?” she asked.

  Had his expression been so obvious? “I do.”

  “Well, he isn’t here tonight,” she announced.

  And that was an invitation if he’d ever heard one. He took a step toward her.

  Very well, Miss Rastmoor. You have set the course for this evening. Let us see where it takes us.

  “What a striking amulet,” he said, reaching for it and brushing her skin with his fingers.

  It was a bold move. He was entirely too close to her; he could feel her quickened breath against his hand as he picked up the warmed scarab and bent in to study it. His face was mere inches from hers. He could see the pulse pound at her neck, feel the heated tension radiate from her. She was terrified.

  Yet she did not move an inch.

  “It is Egyptian,” she said. Her voice was tight and it wavered. “A scarab, pushing an amber orb that represents the sun.”

  “You need no such amulet, Miss Rastmoor,” he said, replacing the scarab and letting his fingers trail along the golden chain, over the gentle slope of her collarbone and up to the sensitive nape of her graceful neck. “Your smile itself is brighter than any sun.”

  She had to take a deep breath before she could answer. “You’re very good with words, sir.”

  “I’m very good with other things as well, my dear.”

  “Yes, er, I see that.”

  But no, she did not see, because her eyes were falling shut as he buried his fingers in her tumbling curls and pulled her face toward his. He gave her ample time to pull away, but she did not. By the time his lips touched hers, he was as eager for the taste of her as she appeared to be for him. Her lips parted easily, and he found himself enjoying not the chaste, teasing kiss he had planned, but something far deeper.

  He held her tightly, pressing her against him to feel every inch of her tantalizing curves. His mouth took possession of hers, her sweetness and willingness fueling a desire that was wholly unexpected. He knew, of course, kissing Miss Rastmoor would be pleasurable. He never dreamed it would be so overwhelming.

  Best to cut things short, considering that his hand had just skimmed down her silky back and was now exploring the wonderful roundness of her shapely bottom. And she was allowing it.

  “It would appear Miss Rastmoor is good at a few things, as well,” he said, coming up for air.

  She, too, was catching her breath. Her huge blue eyes blinked up at him. “Heavens, but you’re even more wicked than everyone says you are!”

  “Now, don’t act quite so righteous, my dear.” He brushed a strand of hair from her face and traced her flushed lips with his thumb. “You seem to be someone who rather likes wicked.”

  “But my brother doesn’t,” she said. “He is absolutely going to hate you.”

  Now he didn’t much care for the sound of that. “I thought you said he wasn’t here?”

  “He’s not, but once he finds out we’ve become engaged he’ll boil over like a scalded pot. Oh, he’ll be furious.”

  Harris shoved her away as if she’d suddenly become scalding herself. “Now wait one little minute here!”

  “No, no, it’s no reason to panic,” she said, suddenly shushing him as if she expected him to stand here and discuss this with her. “I’m not trying to trap you, or anything.”

  “It sure as hell seems that way,” he said, scanning for the quickest, darkest way out of the garden. “Damn it, woman, did you think by luring me into a few stolen kisses I’d feel compelled to drop down on my knee and offer for you?”

  She stood up very straight and jabbed her pointy little chin into the air. “I don’t recall luring you at all, sir. To be more accurate, you swooped down on me like a vulture.”

  “Oh, don’t play all missish. You knew exactly what you wanted when you followed me out here. And I know for a fact you liked what you got.”

  She was at least honest enough not to deny it. She did, however, point out the obvious.

  “As did you.”

  “It was a blasted kiss! That’s no reason I should be expected to pay the ultimate price. You’re lucky I didn’t insist on more from you. Hell, if you knew anything at all about me you would know I don’t give a fig for your honor, or mine either, for that matter. Haven’t you heard? I’m a hopeless case; a bounder and an unscrupulous scoundrel.”

  “Oh yes, I’ve heard,” she acknowledged, but still did not run for the hills. “And I’ve also heard your uncle has pulled the rug out from under your finances until you get a proper wife.”

  “And you think you’d like to apply for the job?”

  “Heavens, no! It’s just that I’m in somewhat the same situation, you see.”

  He really had no idea where this was going, but damned if he wasn’t intrigued. What the hell was this minx up to?

  “You need a proper wife?” he asked.

  “No. I need a proper fiancé,” she replied. “Or rather, a very improper one.”

  “Well, forgive me, Miss Rastmoor, but as I have no desire whatsoever to end up someone’s husband—”

  “Shut up, will you? Listen. You want your uncle to ease up on your resources, don’t you?”

  He carefully did not answer. Just how much did the girl truly know about his resources? She had the scarab; could she have also learned certain things about his dealings? Was she aware just how desperate he truly was for his uncle to turn loose some funds?

  “My brother thinks I need a husband to keep me in line,” she continued.

  “If tonight represents your usual behavior, I must say I’m rather inclined to agree with him, Miss Rastmoor.”

  “Well, he’d never agree with you,” she said curtly. “In fact, he would likely give me anything I wished rather than see me married to you. No offense, sir.”

  “None taken.”

  “Good. So you see how convenient this is for us, don’t you? You need a respectable fiancée, while I need a very disrespectful fiancé.”

  “Ho there; let me see if I comprehend this. You would propose an engagement as a way of blackmailing our troublesome relatives?”

  She smiled brightly, and he was positively stunned to discover he was already thinking up what he could say next that might reproduce such a thrilling effect.

  “Yes! That’s it exactly. You are cleverer than you look, sir.”

  “Thank you, I suppose.”

  “Now, I would probably only need about two weeks engaged to you before I could sway my brother to my wishes,” she said, mentally calculating. “How long do you think it would take you to convince your uncle you are deserving of his support once again?”

  Considering he was nearly thirty years old already and the man despised him more as each day went by…

  “It would take a good deal more than two weeks, I’m afraid.”

  Now she pouted. “Really? Oh drat. You’ve dreadfully mucked it up with him, haven’t you?”

  Good God, but she was lovely when she pouted. Thank heavens she was not interested in anything more than a false engagement just now. Whatever poor sap she set her sights on for the permanent situation would have little hope of escape.

  For himself, however, he had to admit her outlandish plan held some merit. It would put him in position to get to know the cheeky tart—and the circumstances surrounding that pretty little scarab—rather more intimately. Indeed, this might actually work out very well for him.

  Unless, of course, her brother was not quite the slow-wit she seemed to think him. He might jump at the chance to get her married off and call for the parson tomorrow. Well, it wouldn’t be the first time Harris had ignored duty and done whatever the hell he pleased. If the girl was willing to take this sort of risk, she’d have to live with the consequences when he abandoned her.

  And by that time, he’d have the scarab and wh
atever helpful information he could pry out from her. And just maybe he’d take a few other liberties along the way, as well. It was not as if Miss Rastmoor seemed unwilling. Lord knew he wouldn’t be.

  Very well; he’d do it. He’d find out more about her ridiculous plan and use her for whatever he could. Indeed, an engagement to a respectable female might just garner some little trickle of favor from his damned uncle, after all.

  “My uncle might have much against me, Miss Rastmoor,” he said, moving closer to her again, “but he’s always had a soft spot for beautiful women. Perhaps if he thought I was sensible enough to attach you, he might be inclined to overlook some of my past, er, iniquities.”

  “Really? You mean, you would consider it?”

  That lock of unruly hair was back down in her face again, so he gently pushed it away. “It does seem an opportunity for both of us to benefit.”

  “Yes, that’s exactly what I thought,” she said, but he could hear the little catch in her voice.

  His touch, his nearness was having an effect on her. Good. That would be useful. As long as he could make certain this effect only ran one way.

  “I am taking a great risk, though,” he said, trailing one finger over her earlobe.

  “Er, you are?”

  “Once our engagement is broken, my uncle will not be very happy. Any goodwill I’ve gained will possibly be lost.”

  “Yes, I see that.”

  She did have quite attractive earlobes. The glittering gems she wore there were small and tasteful, just enough to add to the sparkle of her eyes. Those eyes were sparkling more than ever as he watched the ember of desire flame to life behind them. Damn it, but he would enjoy this little game.

  “You would not ask me to involve myself in this somewhat risky endeavor without some form of recompense, would you?”

  “Er, what?”

  “Payment, Miss Rastmoor. I’m afraid I’ll have to ask for payment.”

  “Payment? But Anthony only gives me pin money. How much would you need?”

  “Hmm, that’s a good question.”

  He dragged his touch down along the golden chain, brushing the scarab then continuing down farther, until his fingers caught on the smooth bodice of her gown. She drew a quick breath, and for the first time it appeared she was not able to make herself meet his eyes. So she was not quite as brazen as she pretended.