by Devon, Eva
A footman started to make his way towards her.
She locked eyes with him and arched a single brow.
That seemed to stop him in his tracks.
It was a trick she had learned recently, that trick of stopping people in their tracks, and she adored it. So without bothering to wait to see if he would gather up the courage to confront her, she opened the door, slipped into the dark corridor, and made her way to Heath’s office.
She entered without even a knock.
A pair of booted feet greeted her eyes.
And she was ready to announce she could not bear being without him any longer.
But it was then she realized it was not the man she’d expected.
“Well, hello, love. Are ye in the right place?”
She stopped, her breath catching at the surprise. “Yes, I am absolutely in the right place. Are you?”
The roguishly handsome man, not gentleman she was certain, raked her up and down then smiled, oh, so slowly. “Well, seeing as my brother owns the place, yes, Oi would say that Oi am.”
She gasped. “You’re Heath’s brother?”
He stood, giving her an elaborate bow. “That’s right. My name’s Jamie.”
“How do you do?” she said.
He cocked his head to the side, his russet locks tumbling across his hard cheek. “Oh, I do right as rain. And it looks as if you do too.”
Jamie’s mischievous eyes narrowed as a slow, rumbling laugh poured out of him. “Ye were the one, aren’t you?”
“The one?” she echoed.
“The bit of lace. The ’igh kick,” he mocked. “The one who’s made my brother’s life absolutely miserable.”
She drew herself up. “I am not usually in the general habit of making anyone’s life miserable.”
“Perhaps ye’re not in the habit of it,” he said, with eyes that were not quite so merry now. “But ye certainly have done it. And Oi can’t really forgive you for it.”
She took in another breath, astonished. “I don’t follow.”
“Well,” he carelessly studied his fingers, and yet, there wasn’t a careless bone in his body. He crackled with energy. “Seeing that ye haven’t seen my brother in almost a year, Oi reckon. . . Oi suppose that’s no surprise. Ye’ve made him a right beast to be around. Are ye here to make him happy or to make him more miserable?”
“Well, I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I do hope it is happy.”
“Good.” Jamie slammed his hand down on the desk. “He needs a bit of happiness, and Oi’m tired of seeing him look like a misery guts all the time. But Oi don’t see how him getting involved with a fancy piece like ye will make him happy.”
A fancy piece.
She’d never been described thus. She rather liked it. “He and I have an interesting relationship, I grant you.”
“Grant me?” Jamie snorted and folded his broad arms across an equally broad chest. “Fancy telling me about it?”
“No, I don’t think so,” she said, not prepared to speak of her business with just anyone, even Heath’s brother. “Would you like to tell me about yourself and your brother?”
“Oi don’t think so,” he replied with a wink.
She sighed. “Well, then, we stand at an impasse.”
“Oh, no, no impasse here, my girl,” he said darkly. “If ye and Oi are to be friends, we must sit down and have a drink, don’t ye think? Peace in the family and all that.”
She pondered this.
She did not know this man at all. And he was definitely different than his brother. There was a sort of charming quality to him, but a dangerous one.
Was she even safe in the same room with him?
“I must know your intention,” she said boldly. “Is it to befriend me or to skewer me?”
“It depends, don’t it?” he all but purred, leaning forward. “On your intentions.”
This astonished her.
She’d never been asked her intentions with regards to a man before.
Generally, it was men who were asked what their intentions were.
“Since you put it thus, we should,” she said. “I’m more than happy to sit for the interview.”
His brows rose the tiniest bit in surprise. . . and respect. “Right, I can see why he likes you. You’re no frightened rabbit, are you?”
She thought back to a time when Heath had accused her of being a rabbit. Was it something about her? Was she like a bunny in some way? She certainly didn’t think so.
So, without further ado, she drew her shoulders back, crossed to the chair in front of the fire, and sat down. “Let us begin,” she said.
“What do you want from my brother?” Jamie demanded without ceremony. “A bit of rough?”
She scowled. “I don’t know why everyone is so certain that that’s the only thing I could want from him.”
“What do you mean everyone?” Jamie asked.
“Well, he said something similar to me when we met. If you must know.”
“And he said what?” Jamie uttered softly, almost frighteningly. “You want a bit of rough? Because that’s not what Heath is for. He is rough, but not in that way. He ain’t here to service the ’igh kicks’ need for a little danger.”
She swallowed. “No, that’s not what I want. I want him.”
“Do you, now?” Jamie said, crossing to the opposite chair, throwing himself down, and lounging.
She licked her lips. “Yes.”
“It’ll never work,” Jamie warned, sticking one booted leg out.
“Why not?” she queried.
Jamie folded his arms over his chest again, eyeing her like she was a first-class idiot. “Ye’re a fool if you’re asking that question. Ye know why not as well as I do. Perhaps you should just turn around, go back out, and don’t give him any sort of false hope.”
She lifted her chin. “I have no intention of giving him false hope.”
“Don’t you?” Jamie mocked, his eyes hard as stone. “Ye’re going to marry him, set up a nice little house, and have lots of babies?”
Well, she thought to herself, that didn’t sound so terrible, really.
“Ye’re going to become queen of the underworld. Is that it? Nice lady like you, ruling over all the East End?”
“I wouldn’t put it quite like that,” she said.
“How would you put it?” he said. “Explain it to a lowly lad like myself.”
He was baiting her.
“I. . .” She drew in her breath and decided to be honest. “I have very strong feelings for your brother.”
Jamie’s lips pressed into a hard line before he bit out, “Yes, well, feelings don’t really do much, do they, now? Feelings don’t put food on the table. Feelings don’t make for a secure home. Feelings don’t get the rules of society broken. Only action does that.”
“So what is it you’re suggesting?” she asked.
“Oi think you should leave now.” He dropped his arms, leaned forward, and braced his elbows on his knees, warning her, “And Oi think you should leave my brother alone because Oi don’t see how this can end well. Ye’re not some little bit of lace he’s enjoying. If that was the case, Oi’d say no bother. Stay as long as you like, set up house, go ahead and take room with him. Go about the gambling floor, waving a fan and laughing until your heart’s content. But that’s not exactly what this is. Is it?”
She was taken aback. “No,” she agreed. “It’s not.”
“So ye’re going to marry him, then, is that it? Parade him to yer family? Oi don’t know if he can be the man you want him to be.”
It was her turn to lean forward and warn, “You know nothing about me, and you cannot know exactly what I want.”
“True,” Jamie said slowly. “Tell me what Oi should know, then.”
She searched for words then let them flow, “All I can tell you is that your brother has made me feel more alive than any person in this world.”
Jamie nodded. “He’s got a knack for that, he d
oes.”
That astonished her.
Was Heath in the habit of making people feel alive? If so, that made this seem slightly less special, but she refused to believe it. Something had transpired between them that had not happened to anyone else.
She was certain of it.
Just as Jamie was about to continue, the door opened, and Heath stood in the empty frame.
“Mary,” Heath said tightly.
“Heath,” she said, her brain’s ability to articulate vanishing at the sight of him.
“What the devil are you doing, Jamie?”
Jamie grinned. “Just having a lovely conversation with this young lady here.”
She cleared her throat. “He’s ascertaining my intentions with my regards to you.”
“Is he, now?” Heath said, his gaze narrowing.
Jamie gave a shrug. “Oi have to be a good brother, don’t Oi?”
“I suppose I should take that as a compliment,” Heath said, “But it’s none of your affair. So, out.”
Jamie laughed and stood. “I know when I’m not wanted, but you heed my words, Miss Mary.”
“Lady Mary,” she corrected, smiling tightly.
“Lady Mary,” Jamie echoed with a drawl. “You mind what Oi said. Ye be careful now.”
Heath growled, “Out. You’ll not bother her.”
“Oh, he wasn’t bothering me,” Mary rushed. “He was illuminating many things.”
Heath let out a sigh. “Of course he was.”
With a nod, Jamie crossed the room, and just before he headed through the door, he paused, gave his brother one long stare, and whispered something.
Mary had no idea what it was, but Heath’s jaw tightened.
And then Jamie exited.
Heath closed the door. He stood silently for a long time.
“At last,” she said. “I’m so pleased to see you.” She bit the inside of her cheek, taking in his hard stance. “Are you pleased to see me?”
“Pleased is not the word I’d use.”
“What word would you use?” she asked, any ideas of a quick or easy reunion vanishing. She couldn’t blame him.
“Uncertain.”
“That is not the word I was hoping for,” she admitted.
Heath crossed to his desk and began shuffling documents. “Well, we can’t all get what we hope for now. Can we? How are you?” he said, his voice low. “Your family is well?”
“I am very well,” she confessed, her pulse beating rapidly, desperate to end the tension between them. “Except for missing you.”
His hands stopped in their work. “You’ve missed me?”
“Of course I have,” she rushed. “Have you missed me?”
“Don’t ask silly questions,” he stated, not looking up. “You’re not that sort of lady.”
“I suppose I’m not,” she agreed, feeling slightly off foot but determined. “I have longed for you.”
“Longed?” Heath said, his eyes suddenly flicking up to meet hers. But there wasn’t any softness there.
“Yes,” she enunciated, unwilling to be daunted.
He placed his papers down slowly. “This is not some sort of romantic reunion, Mary.”
A part of her told her to apologize, to run. But she let that fear of his coldness wash over her then. . . she said, “It could be.”
The room filled with his power, his presence, his emotion, despite the coldness of his face. “I think you should go.”
“I don’t wish to go.” She wiggled in her chair to find a firmer place. “I wish to stay.”
A shadow crossed his face. “Why?”
“Because you make me feel—”
He gave a terse shake of his head. “It doesn’t matter what I make you feel. You’re meant to go back to the ton. You’re meant to live your life.”
“I don’t want that life,” she cut in. “I want you. I can’t deny it.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw, and there was the slightest tightening of his hands, as if he was controlling some deep emotion. “You barely know me.”
“I know enough,” she declared. “And I think. . . I think there’s a chance you might feel the same.”
When he did not reply, she felt her heart sink, but then she drew upon her strength, the strength he’d helped her find. “Do you?”
He gazed at her for a long time. A ragged breath tore from him. “You have not left my thoughts, not one single day. Your name has beat a refrain in my mind that has left me sleepless. . .”
She stood, letting her hands fall to her sides. “Now, we need not dance about it.”
“There was never dancing,” he said. “Only cold, hard truth. You and I are from two different worlds, and we cannot mix.”
“Now who’s living by the rules,” she pointed out.
“Oh, I know rules quite well, Lady Mary,” he said without relenting. “So do you. My rules are different, but I have them all the same.”
She raised her head and squared her shoulders. “Perhaps it’s time we break them.”
The muscles of his throat worked. “Breaking rules is dangerous, Mary.”
“So is abiding by them,” she said lowly before she professed the truth she couldn’t deny. “I don’t wish to be without you. Let me be with you. All I wish is you.”
Chapter 16
All I wish is you.
Those words echoed through his office.
He took them in, barely able to believe he’d truly heard them. Those were the words he’d dreamed of, night after night, for almost a year. And now, they had been spoken by the woman who had consumed him. Now that they’d been proclaimed with such surety, he was. . .
Bloody hell, he was afraid to act on them.
That’s what it was. Fear seized him up inside. Did he dare take her up on those words? He’d never allowed anyone but her to be so close.
She stood silently, waiting for him to reply, and he stood silently, drinking this moment in, until at last, there was only one thing left to do.
He strode across the room and took her into his arms.
Sliding his hands up into her hair, arching her head back, he took her mouth with his.
He kissed her as if he were a man drowning and she a raft to cling to, and she responded as if she had been waiting all this time to pluck him out of the water and bring him to safety.
They kissed deeper, stronger, more passionately, their hands roaming over each other. He pulled at the ties of her cloak, letting it fall to the floor, bearing her to him. She yanked at his coat, tearing it back from his shoulders, whipping it down to the floor. Her wildness stoked the fire inside him. She was everything he had ever wanted and never imagined.
He pulled back.
“Don’t you dare go away from me now,” she whispered.
“No,” he said. “Never again, but not here. Come with me.”
He led her out of his office, down that dark corridor, and up a set of stairs that twisted to his rooms. He’d lived above the club for years, except for, of course, when he went to the country.
He guided her into the simple space. He’d never been one for luxury, and he didn’t know what she’d think of it, but he didn’t have time to contemplate it now.
He pulled her farther and farther into the place that had been his sanctuary. A fire blazed in the hearth, illuminating the room in a soft red-golden glow. It bathed her, giving her an almost holy look. He contemplated her face, that face which had haunted his dreams.
She was here now, real. He held onto her, letting his hand stroke her to confirm it was true. She truly was here with him. She seemed to feel the same, barely able to believe they had finally found each other and this moment.
He led her to the fire.
“I fear this is a dream,” he whispered.
“Then, we must never wake,” she replied.
And with those words, he helped her down to the beautiful Persian rug. Her skirts pooled out about her legs.
He knelt down and, ever so reverently
, skimmed his fingers along her cheek, and then to his shock, he said, “Marry me.”
She blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“Marry me,” he said again, even as he felt his whole body rattle with his audacity. He didn’t want to be her lover. He wanted to be hers, forever, and he wanted her to belong to him. He didn’t ever want them to look back or to run away from each other again.
“Say yes,” he asked, leaning in and kissing the nape of her neck.
She took in a long, shuddering breath, and he was certain she was about to say no. She had come here only to be his lover, to enjoy the rough pleasures he could give her.
But then she pulled back, took his hands in hers, and said in a single breath, “I will.”
His heart nigh exploded in his chest.
It was madness, he knew, but it was the right sort of madness.
And with that, he pulled her towards him, into his embrace, holding her in the place where she was always meant to be.
Chapter 17
Need pulsed through every part of Mary’s body. Her lips parted, hungry for his mouth.
But he did not give it to her. Not in the way she’d imagined.
Oh, no, he bent and pressed a soft kiss to the arch of her neck.
A moan of pleasure escaped her lips as he slid his mouth over her hot skin, tracing over her collarbones then to the curve of her breast.
He took her nipple into his mouth through her chemise.
She arched against him, shocked.
A feral growl ripped from his throat, and before she knew what he was doing, he’d worked her chemise free from her shoulders and pooled it at her waist. He tugged it past her hips then whipped it down her body.
In an instant, she was exposed before him. Every bit of her.
It felt so perfect, as if she’d been waiting for this moment her whole life. So, she did not try to hide herself from him.
His firm hands caressed her ribs, down to her thighs, then back up to cup her breasts.
“Mine,” he whispered roughly.
“Yes,” she agreed without hesitation. But then she found herself grabbing at his shirt. He eased back, allowing her to yank it over his head. He guided her hands to his breeches.