To Love a Lord: A Victorian Romance Collection

by Tanya Anne Crosby

  She wanted Jack—Jack, who didn’t bow to any man—Jack, who toiled after his dreams by the sweat of his back—Jack, who respected her enough to talk to her about the things he cherished—Jack, who was the first man to actually see her, and not her father or her money or her name when he looked at her. And Sophie knew it too. She saw herself in his eyes. She saw his heart there as well... at least she dared to hope.

  “How long do you think it will be before we reach Harlan’s camp?” she asked Kell, growing restless. Jack hadn’t bothered to answer her question. For all she knew they could be days away, or merely hours.

  Kell looked about, studying the forest. They’d reached a clearing of sorts, and he scratched his chin and looked at her, smiling, then peered back up again to judge the path ahead. “Actually... I think it’s just beyond—” He lifted his arm to point, but stopped in midsentence.

  Sophie looked up to see what had caught his attention.

  It was Jack, coming toward them, his look nearly murderous.

  Her heart leapt.

  His men parted like the Red Sea for him as he made his way to the back of the line where Sophie walked with Kell. They stopped in their tracks as he passed, turning to watch.

  “We’re stopping here for the night!” he said loud enough for everyone to hear, and in a tone that brooked no argument.

  Sophie winced. He was staring at her so heatedly that she thought she might burst into flames.

  Kell blinked. “What the hell for?” he asked, his expression clearly dumbfounded. “It’s just beyond—”

  “We’re stopping here!” Jack thundered, “because I said we are!”

  Kell pointed down the dirt path they had been walking. “But hell, Jack—”

  Jack pointed furiously at his feet. “I said we’re making camp right here!” he persisted, and his stance was battle-ready.

  Sophie winced again, and moved another inch behind Kell.

  Kell shook his head, but threw his hands up in defeat. “All right,” he agreed, and dared to chuckle. “Whatever you say, Jack.”

  Sophie looked up at Kell, wondering if he was insane to laugh. She had never seen Jack look so terrifyingly mad.

  The two men shared a look, and then Jack walked away.

  No one else said a word, and they set up camp in the little clearing.

  Sophie determined to steer clear of Jack, judging it best to let his mood pass. She didn’t want to fight with him, and she was going to need a shoulder after facing Harlan. Kell was sweet, but it was Jack she needed most right now.

  She just didn’t know how to reveal the truth.

  She didn’t want his pity, just his compassion, and she didn’t know how to say that her fiancé didn’t really want her—that he’d all but discarded her. She’d rather Jack see for himself that she wasn’t Harlan’s fool. She was no victim and she wasn’t the least bit devastated, and she wanted Jack to see that truth with his own two eyes. Somehow, she didn’t think he would believe her if she simply told him so.

  In fact, her anger for Harlan had nearly faded now... she just didn’t like him and was never more determined to set herself free from the encumbrance of their engagement.

  Harlan Horatio Penn could do whatever he wished, love whomever he wished. Sophie just didn’t care anymore. He could stay in the Yucatan for the remainder of his life, even... only without her father’s money. She intended to do whatever she could to see her father’s honor redeemed.

  As for herself... she intended to follow her heart, wherever it should lead.

  With or without Jack, she intended to follow her dreams. She was wiser, stronger, and ready to face whatever tomorrow would bring.

  Chapter 31

  Jack remained long enough to be certain his orders would be followed, and then set off again down the jungle path, confident that he wouldn’t be missed while they were busy setting up camp.

  Not that he was overeager to protect Harlan’s reputation from Sophie, but he damned well didn’t want Sophie to be hurt if they showed up to find Harlan otherwise occupied.

  Jack had worked with the man for nearly a year and his labors had been spent almost entirely in his tent, fondling women’s breasts. Before having met Sophie, Jack’s greatest disgust with Harlan’s behavior was in the simple fact that he seemed to have so little respect for his vocation. If he took advantage of the women who came to him, it was nearly as much the women’s fault as it was his own. They flocked to the campsites, hoping to win themselves a husband who would take them away from the poverty of their villages, but their affections were calculated, at best. Jack had long ago resolved to mind his own business.

  Except that now everything was different.

  But the irony of his situation did not escape him. He was on his way to warn the fiancé of the woman he loved that she was on her way so that the cheating bastard could clear his tent of incriminating evidence. How insane was that?

  Still, he didn’t want Sophie to find out this way. It wasn’t Jack’s place to tell her of her fiancé’s dalliances—particularly not after he’d seduced her himself.

  He hadn’t gone far down the path before he reached his destination. Jose had guided them well, and they’d made good time. He broke from the forest into the clearing in which Harlan had set up camp.

  Jack didn’t bother asking where Harlan was, or which tent was his. It was the biggest, of course. And he was always within it—the sun bruised his skin, the night dampness gave him vapors, just about any excuse not to work. Jack headed straight toward it, resentment in his every stride. He loved Sophie. He wanted Sophie. And Harlan was a dirty, stinking bastard who didn’t deserve her.

  He found Harlan sitting at a small makeshift table, hunched over his reading material, his brows knit deep in thought, and a dark-skinned woman at his back, massaging his shoulders.

  Cold fury seized hold of him.

  Jack didn’t say a word. He went straight to the desk, slammed down the telegrams that had been in the stove, and before Harlan could say a word, Jack seized him by the collar and dragged him outside.

  Harlan scarcely struggled, so addled was he. “MacAuley!” he said in surprise.

  Jack tightened his hold on Penn’s collar. “Yep, it’s me, Harlan! Surprised to see me?” He jerked his collar up. Of course he was surprised, he’d hired a saboteur to make sure Jack’s presence in the Yucatan didn’t become a ball and chain around his lily neck.

  “No, no!” Harlan objected. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

  Jack dug into his pockets for more evidence. He drew out the ring he’d borrowed from Sophie, and showed it to Harlan. “No?”

  Harlan’s face visibly paled.

  Jack smiled ruthlessly. “I see you recognize it,” he said, and closed his fist around the bauble.

  “I didn’t do it!” Harlan said, and began to scream. “I didn’t send those telegrams to Shorty!” His crew came running, hearing his screams. Jack reared back and hurled a punch at Harlan’s jaw, releasing his collar as he did so. Harlan flew back onto his rear, and his crew stopped and stared.

  “You didn’t send the telegrams to Shorty, did you?” Jack said, flexing his empty hand.

  “No!” Harlan declared, scrambling backward.

  Jack opened his fist. “And you didn’t give him this ring, either, did you, Harlan?”

  “He must have stolen it!” Harlan swore, his eyes narrowing furiously. “I didn’t give that to him!” Jack read the truth in his eyes. He probably hadn’t given up the ring to Shorty. Shorty might very well have stolen it, but it didn’t matter. The evidence still pointed in the same direction. Harlan was a cheater and a thief!

  He advanced on Harlan once more, lifting him up and hurling another punch. “That’s for Shorty!” he said with cold deliberation as Harlan fell back on his rear.

  None of his crew moved a finger to help him, Jack noticed—not that it would have stopped him.

  He seized Harlan up once more, dusted him off while Harlan babbled t
o him, and then hurled another punch. “And that one’s for Sophia!” he informed him. One last time Harlan went tumbling backward, and Jack told him, “I hope you’re enjoying yourself, Harlan! Hope the wench was worth it!”

  He left him on the ground that time, blood seeping from the corner of Harlan’s mouth. Harlan narrowed his eyes, and he was suddenly provoked. “What do you mean that one was for Sophia?”

  Jack was encouraged by the confrontational look in his eyes. “Fight with me, Harlan!” he demanded. “It’s no damned challenge to scrap with a man who’s too much of a coward to defend himself!”

  “I’m a gentleman!” Harlan fervently protested and swiped at his mouth. “I’m not going to fight you!” he assured Jack, his tone as haughty as a man could manage while still sprawled on his ass and spitting blood through his teeth.

  “Of course not,” Jack replied. “You’d much rather pay a man to sabotage anyone who’s the least bit of a threat to you!”

  “I didn’t pay Shorty to sabotage you!” Harlan denied hotly.

  “Yeah, well, how did you know it was Shorty?” Jack countered, his eyes narrowed. “I didn’t tell you it was Shorty, now did I?”

  Harlan opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again. Jack took a step toward him, and he scurried backward to evade him.

  “You’re a sorry excuse for a man, Penn!” Jack said. “I’m not going to hit you again, but I am going to give you one solid piece of advice!”

  Relief lit within Harlan’s muddled blue eyes. “Wh-what is that?”

  Jack looked at him, willing the words to come out right. He wanted to say nothing that would reflect poorly on Sophie.

  “Sophia is here,” he said at last, his words carefully measured. His hands trembled at his sides, and he gulped hard, swallowing the emotions that barreled up within him.

  Harlan started visibly, looking about. “Sophia is here! Where?”

  “Don’t piss your pants, Harlan! I’m not stupid enough to bring her waltzing into your orgyfest, but she damned well will be here bright and early tomorrow morning!” He gave Harlan a pointed glance. “You don’t deserve the advance warning, but I’m here to tell you that if I catch your mitts on even one set of breasts before she gets here, or if you hurt her, I swear to God I will kill you with my bare hands!”

  Harlan stood at once. “You wouldn’t dare!”

  “Make her cry, Harlan, and see what I dare!”

  “I don’t understand!” Harlan exclaimed suddenly, squaring his shoulders. “What is she doing with you, MacAuley?” He brushed himself off, giving Jack an accusing glare.

  Jack held his tongue.

  “Why should you concern yourself over my relationship with Sophia!”

  Jack stood there, wanting to say so much more, but determined to protect Sophie at all costs. Whatever she wanted, he wanted for her—even if she wanted the bastard standing before him.

  “Because I love her, that’s why!” he blurted, and blinked in surprise at his own words.

  Harlan blinked as well, but stared speechless otherwise.

  Jack nodded. It was the truth, damn it. He did love her. And that was all he’d come to say.

  He spun on his heels, leaving Penn staring open-mouthed after him.

  The rest was up to Sophie.

  Chapter 32

  Needing time to think, Jack didn’t return to camp right away. When he did finally, it was to find the camp mostly slumbering. Only a few tents were left illuminated, Sophie’s included, and considering her past experience with lanterns, the light drew him immediately to her. There wasn’t much danger in her starting a fire as long as the lanterns were left in their braces, but just to be certain, he felt compelled to poke his head inside.

  His heart danced at the sight of her.

  She was so beautiful lying there, with her hair spread about her face. She had fallen asleep with her sketchpad at her side and her pencil still in hand. The sketchpad was still open to the page where she had been drawing. Curious, Jack lifted it up, marveling at the details she had captured so accurately on paper.

  It was the dzonot where they had spent the previous afternoon. Never in his life had he seen a more... spiritual drawing. There was no other way to describe it. Bathed in the rays of sunlight it was almost possible to see the sanctity of the place, and in the lush greenery, it was almost possible to spy Hechicera’s face. She wasn’t there, but somehow she was... an almost indistinguishable face among the great canopy of leaves.

  It was incredible.

  Curiosity made him turn the page, and his heart jolted at the face that stared back at him. It was his own, captured with a sense of perfection that he knew he did not possess. The face was almost godly, the eyes piercing and intelligent, the lips full with sensual knowledge...

  It was him, and yet it was not him.

  It was his face as Sophie saw him, and the realization made his heart swell with emotion. He was still reeling from it as he turned the page to find another. He cocked his head at the image. It was another of him... horrific... the eyes bulging in anger and the mouth wide open as though shouting. Christ, if he had been flattered by the previous portrait, this one left him wincing. But her work was extraordinary.

  Sophie stirred at his feet and he closed the pad, setting it down next to her backpack, along with the rest of her drawings. He glanced at them, and then back again, caught by the familiarity of them.

  He began to leaf through them, and was stunned by his discovery. His own research. She had recreated the drawings with incredible accuracy... the jaguar god... even the mapped tombs. Her attention to detail was astounding. Her drawings were not only accurate, they were damned good, capturing more of the spirit of his subjects than he ever could have hoped for. He could use her talents.

  With an overwhelming sense of gratitude, he set the drawings down and went to her, hovering over her as she slept, watching her. The shadow of her lashes fell long over her cheeks, brushing them softly.

  He was overcome with the desire to kiss her.

  “Jack?” she whispered sleepily, and he swallowed, pushing aside the thought that tomorrow she would no longer be with him.

  He didn’t want to think of that now.

  Didn’t want to feel angry.

  Didn’t want to feel lonely.

  He wanted to make love to her.

  He kissed her lips softly, his heart beating harder at the feel of them so soft against his mouth.

  “Sophia,” he murmured, desperate for the taste of her.

  “Jack,” she said, waking. She smiled sweetly at him and stretched lazily, then lifted her arms around his neck. She opened her mouth to speak.

  “Shhh,” Jack demanded, afraid she would refuse him. He silenced her with a hungry kiss, willing her to feel what was in his heart.

  Like a flower, she opened to him, and he made love to her as he’d never made love to anyone in his entire life.

  Before Sophie, he hadn’t known the real thing.

  Before her... everything he ever did was simply in preparation for this...

  Chapter 33

  Jack had assured her they would reach Harlan’s camp bright and early the next morning, but Sophie was shocked to find how near to it they’d encamped.

  They’d walked, at most, a mile, and then burst forth from the forest into a lush, beautiful clearing that was littered with the nearly vanquished remains of a bygone age. The buildings stood a silent testament to the people who had erected them, but the forest had long ago begun to choke the ruins into submission. Flora and fauna alike conspired to conceal the very buildings themselves from human eyes. So deep in the jungle they lay, they were not ruins any man might easily stumble over.

  Except that someone had found it, and Sophie could see evidence of the jungle stripped away in places, reluctantly unveiling the masterpiece of some forgotten culture.

  The sight of it all momentarily took her breath away.

  She stood staring at the clearing in surprise, at the multitude
of tents her father’s money had purchased, and wondered which tent was Harlan’s.

  Her gaze sought Jack’s.

  He was watching her at a distance, his feet planted stubbornly, though she willed him to her side.

  Had he realized how near they were?

  Why hadn’t he told her?

  Despite the intensity of their lovemaking, for whatever reason he was still sullen with her. Suddenly, as she stood in the shadow of these august ruins, beyond the bounds of Harlan’s sleeping camp, she felt more alone than she’d ever felt in all her life. Never had she felt so minuscule and unimportant, her purpose so insignificant in the greater scheme of life.

  Some part of her wanted to kneel in homage to this place. Some part of her wanted to forget all she had come for and simply sit and capture the heart and soul of this forgotten city. The greatest part of her wanted to turn and run, but she’d come so far to face Harlan and she intended to see it through till the end.

  Sucking in a breath, she heaved the backpack off her shoulders and laid it on the ground. Her heart began to hammer as she knelt to retrieve her picture of Harlan.

  Their arrival had been noted.

  As the sun rose, bursting through the tree-tops, Harlan’s camp began to stir. One by one, they crawled out from their tents to watch the interlopers.

  Somehow, it seemed everyone watched her... Jack’s crew and Harlan’s, as well. They all stared at her, waiting to see what she would do.

  Her fingers shook as she withdrew the picture she had been carting around, and she refused to look up into anyone’s eyes, especially not Jack’s.

  Kell came forward and patted her on the back... at least she thought it was Kell by the friendly way he clapped her.

  She looked up to find Jack, and her heart did a quick little somersault against her ribs. “Jack,” she exclaimed, and wanted to throw herself into his arms.