If He's Dangerous

by Hannah Howell

  “It would be pleasant to be read to for a while,” he said. “My own company was growing quite tiresome.”

  The smile she gave him was a lethal weapon aimed straight at ending a man’s freedom, Argus decided. As she began to read, he realized her soft, lilting voice was not much safer. He had to wonder why she was not yet wed with a few children clinging to her skirts. She certainly looked old enough to have come out in society. Even here in the country there had to be men ready and willing to marry into a ducal family.

  As he half listened to the rousing tale of an old battle, the author’s tone surprisingly unprejudiced whenever the Puritans were mentioned, Argus attempted to understand why Lady Lorelei was still unwed. Her bare fingers implied that she was not even betrothed. She was beautiful, young but no longer childish, undoubtedly had a reasonable dowry, and was as highborn as any woman could be outside of the royal family. Her actions concerning his plight revealed a touch of wildness in her nature, perhaps even a touch of recklessness, but he could not really see that as a fault. Her butler saw her as sympathetic and too trusting, qualities most men would see as charming, might even be tempted to take advantage of. It took all his willpower not to interrupt her reading to ask her why she was still a maid.

  It was not long before the soothing music of her voice aided the exhaustion brought on by exercise in making him sleepy. Argus tried to stay alert, not wishing to insult her in any way, for she was an excellent reader, but he finally found it impossible to keep his eyes open. He hoped the constant need for sleep would end soon as it made him feel like a weakling. That was something he had never liked, but he suspected the dislike was enhanced by the fact that he was acting weak before Lady Lorelei Sundun. That fact carried with it some dangerous implications.

  Lorelei watched Sir Argus close his eyes but continued to read to him for a while longer. She could see that his color had improved since she had been at his side and decided that some sort of exercise had caused the paleness she had first noticed. She could readily sympathize with the need to heal and get strong as soon as possible. Sir Argus was undoubtedly spurred on by more than male pride, however. He had enemies, ones who were probably searching for him.

  Certain that he was finally asleep, Lorelei rose and set the book on the bedside table for him to read later if he wished to. She lightly adjusted the bedcovers over his chest and touched a kiss to his brow. It was a shockingly forward thing to do, but she could not fully resist the urge to touch him. A startled squeak escaped her when his arms wrapped around her and tugged her down onto his chest.

  Argus studied her blush-stained face, and ignored the protest his ribs made about having any weight on his chest, even her lightweight. “Why do you do that?”

  “Do what, sir?” Lorelei was not surprised when he gave her a look of mild disgust, for her attempt to act innocent had been a pathetically weak one.

  “Kiss me on the brow.”

  “’Tis but an innocent gesture, one of sympathy for someone in pain.”

  “Is that what you expect me to believe?”

  “And why should you not believe me?”

  “Because I think you are lying through your pretty white teeth.”

  Before Lorelei could protest that remark, even if it was the truth, he kissed her. This time she did not hesitate to give herself over to his kiss. Hesitantly, she threaded her fingers through his thick hair even as she parted her lips to welcome the seductive intrusion of his tongue. Lorelei could not believe how alive she felt in his arms, her every sense awakened by his embrace. The scent of him, all male with a hint of the soap he had washed up with, filled her head. The taste of him was as heady as the richest chocolate and she knew she could quickly come to crave it. The way his tongue played within her mouth, stirring up a passion she had begun to think herself incapable of, drove all clear thought from her mind. Even the heat of his body pressed close to hers seeped inside her, entering the very blood pounding through her veins. When he softly cursed and abruptly ended the kiss, gently but firmly setting her aside, she hastily swallowed a whimper of dismay.

  “What the bloody hell am I doing?” Argus muttered, dragging the fingers of both hands through his hair.

  “Kissing me again?” she replied sweetly, refusing to flinch before the cross look he sent her. He was the one who had pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

  “That must never happen again. You”—he pointed one long, graceful finger at her—“will cease to come here.”

  “Oh, no, I think not. Your presence is still a great secret and, if Max is busy as he so often is, I am the only one who can ensure that you have the food, drink, and clean linens you need.” She shrugged. “You cannot choose who will aid you yet, sir.”

  “Fine. Then, when you must be here, you are to stay far away from me.”

  “As you wish. Rest well, Sir Argus.”

  Lorelei fled the room before he could say any more. He was a fool to think they could stay a proper distance apart at all times after sharing a kiss like that. She had the growing suspicion that she had finally found the man she had been looking for and she had every intention of staying very close until he agreed that they were a good match, or turned away from her so completely she could not mistake his rejection.

  Argus glared at the door as it shut behind Lorelei. He knew she was not going to do as he asked and it was evident that he had very little control when she was near. Closing his eyes, he vowed to work harder to regain his strength so that he could run as far and as fast as he could. A little voice in his head whispered that he could run all he liked but he would never escape the memory of her kiss. He ruthlessly silenced it.

  Chapter 5

  “His Grace would like to speak with you, m’lady.” Nine little words should not make her heart leap with such alarm, Lorelei thought, yet they did. She had the chilling feeling that, somehow, her father had learned about Sir Argus. The man had been hiding in the gatehouse for a full week so it was certainly possible that even her sweet, distracted father could have noticed something suspicious.

  As she set aside her needlework and rose to follow Max out of the parlor, Lorelei suddenly recalled the swift departure of Cyrus and Peter. They had barely paused in their escape from Sundunmoor to say a proper farewell. If she had not happened to enter the front hall just as they were going out the door, she doubted very much that they would have said a word to her about leaving. Her cousins must have told her father something, perhaps even everything.

  “He knows about Sir Wherlocke,” she said, looking hopefully at Max for a denial even though she doubted he would give her one.

  “He does,” replied Max. “I did not tell him, although I was not pleased that I had to keep such secrets from him. That is not my way, as you well know.”

  “I know. My cousins told him for some reason. That is why they fled. Do you happen to know just how much they did tell him?”

  “No, but you should be aware that your father has taken to ambling about his estate, on foot, weather permitting. Every day, shortly after breaking his fast. It is quite possible he saw something that stirred his curiosity and pressed young Peter and Cyrus for some answers.”

  “And they crumbled like stale biscuits.”

  “Quite possibly.”

  “I wish they had had the courage to tell me precisely what they told him before they ran for their lives.”

  “It does not matter. It is time, I believe, to tell your father the truth.”

  Lorelei sighed, unable to argue with that no matter how desperately she would like to. Her father was often distracted, lost in his books and papers, but once his curiosity was roused, he could prove to be very persistent until he got the answers he sought. There was a very good chance that something had caught his eye as he had ambled over his property, perhaps passing right by the gatehouse. Whatever her cousins had told him in answer to the questions he had asked would only have sharpened that curiosity. All she could do now was hope that her father would understand the c
ontinued need for secrecy. Sir Argus was a great deal stronger than when he had arrived at Sundunmoor, but he was still not ready for a confrontation with Cornick and his men. If nothing else, Max insisted that Argus should keep the wrapping about his ribs for at least another week.

  Straightening her shoulders, she stepped into her father’s library. He sat at his desk with his hands clasped in front of him. The fact that he had no book close at hand and had obviously been waiting for her did nothing to soothe her nerves. Lorelei glanced behind her, seeking some support from Max, only to find herself staring at the closed door. The coward has fled, she thought crossly, and turned to face her father again.

  “You wished to see me, Papa?” she asked as she walked toward his desk.

  Roland Sundun, His Grace, the eighth Duke of Sundunmoor, studied his daughter as she approached him. A small, sweet memory twisted his heart for despite having his eyes she looked so much like her mother, the only one of his three wives that he truly cared for. He could not let that softness sway him, however. She was keeping secrets from him and may well have involved herself in something dangerous. The babbled explanations of the Dunn boys had not been much help, but Roland was determined to get to the truth now. He suspected Max knew the truth but would not press his butler, and friend, to break a pact with his daughter by questioning him.

  “Sit down, m’dear.” He pointed to the chair set facing him across his wide desk. “I believe you have something to tell me.”

  “I do?” Lorelei clasped her hands in her lap, not wishing to reveal any unease or guilt.

  “Lorelei, I know I am a negligent father. . . .”

  “Oh, no, Papa. You are a wonderful father.”

  “You say so because we both know that, much of the time, I have little idea of what is going on with my children.”

  “I suspect anyone with so many children would be unable to know everything that went on with them.”

  “Clever girl. Cease dancing about and tell me, who is the man you have hiding in my gatehouse?”

  “Sir Argus Wherlocke. I would have thought my timid cousins would have revealed at least that much,” she muttered, silently swearing retribution on her cowardly cousins.

  “They babbled and ran. I gleaned enough from their nearly insensible rush of words to know that I am correct in thinking something is going on out at that gatehouse.” He drummed his fingers on the top of his desk and frowned. “For a moment I had feared that I had forgotten that we had guests. Only, it does appear that this particular guest would prefer to be forgotten.”

  “Not forgotten, just well hidden.”

  “Young lady, you will tell me what you have managed to get yourself tangled up in. And, I suspect, poor Max, as well.”

  Lorelei sighed and told her father exactly what she had told Max. “So, you see, Papa, it is of the utmost importance that as few people as possible know where Sir Argus is. At least, until his family arrives to help him or he recovers completely from the brutal treatment of his captors.”

  Roland rubbed a hand over his chin, studying his daughter as he thought on all she had said. He knew he was indeed a somewhat negligent father, but he loved all of his children, as well as the ones who had been put into his care. He might spend much of his time lost in his books, but he was certain each child at Sundunmoor knew they could turn to him if they needed him, and many had from time to time. He was, therefore, not ignorant of all the ways his many offspring could manipulate the truth. His daughter had told him the truth, but not all of it. There was also a look in her eyes, a telltale shine, whenever she spoke Sir Argus’s name. As far as he knew, no man had ever put that shine in his daughter’s eyes before. This was definitely one of those times when he needed to keep his mind sharp and watch her closely.

  “I believe I must meet this man,” he said as he stood up.

  “Now?” Lorelei asked as her father grasped her by the hand and tugged her to her feet.

  “He has been here for a week, has he not? I think it is far past time I acted the proper host and welcomed him to Sundunmoor.”

  “Papa, it is truly very important that no one learns he is here.”

  He hooked her arm through his and patted her hand. “I am well aware of that. No need to keep reminding me. Although I think you gravely underestimate the servants if you believe none of them have guessed that you are hiding someone in the gatehouse.” He watched as she grew a little pale and patted her hand again. “None of them will speak out of turn or spread gossip. Weeded that sort out a long time ago.”

  Lorelei reluctantly allowed her father to lead her away from the library toward the front door. He was not going to give her even the smallest chance of warning Argus that he was about to meet her father, the duke. This was a poor time for her father to become keen-witted and sharp-eyed, she thought crossly. She could only hope that he did not also decide to suddenly become obedient to all the rules of propriety, for she had no intention of staying away from Sir Argus Wherlocke.

  Not that putting herself in his way was getting her very far, she mused. The man still kept kissing her and then pushing her away. If she had not sensed his desire for her, she would probably be hiding under her bed, crippled with humiliation. There was so much passion in his kisses she was both infuriated and impressed with the strength he revealed in reining it in before they indulged in more than kisses. She had none at all. The only good thing she could see in Argus’s reluctance to seduce her was that it revealed that he honored her enough not to want to play any roguish games with her. That was all well and good. She was not playing any games, either.

  The look on Sir Argus’s handsome face when she entered the room arm in arm with her father almost made her grin. He was quite obviously stunned, but he quickly hid that shock behind an expression that bespoke courtesy with a touch of aloofness. Lorelei was rather envious of that skill.

  “Your Grace,” Argus said and quickly stood up to bow.

  “Oh, sit. Sit,” ordered her father. “You must be far healthier than when you arrived, but you still look like you lost a battle with a carriage.”

  Argus sat but slowly, making sure that the duke was intending to sit as well. Many outside of Sundunmoor would not take Lorelei’s father for such a highborn lord, he thought as he studied the man, certainly not by ones who did not know him. Argus was not sure he would have guessed that he was facing a duke if the man had not come in with Lorelei and did not have eyes very similar to hers. His clothes were of fine quality but somewhat rumpled. His graying brown hair looked as if he had run his fingers through it many times and never bothered to check his appearance before leaving the privacy of his rooms. There was no air of arrogance about the man, no inbred sense of privilege.

  There was, however, a look in the man’s eyes that told Argus this man was no fool. Roland Sundun, His Grace, the eighth Duke of Sundunmoor, had a sharp intelligence. It made Argus a little uneasy to have that intelligence fixed upon him.

  “You have apparently been my guest for a sennight and I decided it was best if I made your acquaintance,” said the duke and smiled at Argus. “The lads who helped bring you here told me so, just before they decided there were some things they desperately needed to see to at home.”

  “Rotten little cowardly weasels,” Lorelei muttered, but quickly smiled sweetly when her father glanced her way.

  “Lorelei, m’dear, I think Sir Argus and I would like something to drink and, mayhap, a bite of something to eat,” the duke said, smiling at his daughter with a sweetness to equal hers. “I am sure you can find something for us. In the kitchens.”

  Lorelei opened her mouth to dispute that gentle command and then quickly shut it. Her father had that look in his eyes, the one that said he was the father, and the duke, and she had better do as she was told. She curtsied and went to find some drink and food, intending to get back to the room as fast as she could.

  Roland had to bite back a laugh. His daughter had spirit. Far more than any of her three sisters had shown. He
looked back at the man he had come to judge, the man who put that shine in his daughter’s eyes. Sir Argus Wherlocke was a fine figure of a man. The only thing that troubled Roland a little was the air of worldliness the man wore like a comfortable old coat. He was not sure his spirited but very sheltered daughter was a match for such a man, one who had done and seen a great deal in his life.

  Yet, she was still unwed. He did not care if she chose to remain so, if she was happy to remain a spinster, but Roland did not think a life as dear Aunt Lolly the spinster was what would make Lorelei happy. He trusted his instincts and they told him that his Lolly wanted a marriage, a good marriage with a good man, and children.

  “How is it that you fell into the hands of this man who foolishly believed he could steal a God-given skill?” he asked.

  “He wished to meet to discuss some investments. I found nothing about him to suggest he was a threat and so I met with him.” Argus frowned. “I do not believe I missed anything, yet, once his prisoner, there was much about him that made me think he was a man with blood on his hands.”

  “Which could have been gained in the stews and thus been kept very secret. Few care or know what happens to those wretches. I fear that simply gives evil a safe play to hone its skills.”

  “I suppose it does.”

  “Lorelei said that you believe this man has at least one ally.”

  “He said we several times.”

  “We could encompass a veritable mob of people,” murmured Roland.

  Argus nodded. “My fervent hope is that it is, at most, two or three. A small committee of fools who have gotten this idea that they can steal away Wherlocke or Vaughn skills or be taught them. Men trying to get something that will give them a power they have been unable to gain on their own.”