Danger by Dalliance
Tina Christopher
Sequel to Rescue by Ruin.
Sarah Rigdon is desperate. Penniless with taxes due, she can either beg mercy from the ruthless tax collector or turn to the last man she wants to ask for help. Archer Latimer stirs desires no proper lady would ever admit to. Though their meetings always end in quarrels, she can’t deny the heat between them. When he agrees to help, Sarah thinks her luck has turned. But she should have known nothing with Archer is ever easy.
Archer and his lover Warren Dorvee have spent years searching for the right woman to complete their family. Both believe luscious Sarah is the one and now have a chance to pursue her. After all, the price of Archer’s help is for Sarah to pose for Warren’s latest painting. Nude.
But trust has to be earned and a crisis in London threatens their love. The three must navigate through lust, lies and secrets or risk being torn apart forever.
Inside Scoop: Contains m/m, GLBT and ménage.
A Romantica® historical erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave
Danger by Dalliance
Tina Christopher
Acknowledgments
I would like to thank Victoria Davies. You never hold back and you push me to do better. Thank you for wielding your whip so accurately. The teddy bear is no longer necessary ;) Huge thanks to Gina X. Grant and Bonnie Staring for your invaluable input and assistance. I couldn’t do this without you. And big thanks to Irene for the fabulous title.
Grace, thank you for being such an amazing editor. Thank you for picking me and taking me on this wild ride. I wouldn’t be here without you. I will miss you.
And a huge thank-you to my readers for accompanying me to my Victorian London with a twist. It is quite the trip and I hope you will love it here as much as I do.
Author Note
I have taken great liberties with the properties of ink in this particular story. In 1844 the Bank of England became the sole distributer of banknotes in England and Wales, but they did not add chemicals to the ink as a security measure.
Chapter One
London, 1898
Miss Sarah Emma Rigdon wrinkled her nose and turned her back on her best friend since childhood. A gasp went through the crowd of people surrounding them. She wanted to turn back, show her support, be there for Beatrice. But she couldn’t afford to draw the attention of gossipmongers.
She continued on with measured steps, ignoring the whispers and stares around her. Her grip tightened on the handle of the bag she carried. Her purse over her other wrist, she walked along the path. Only a few more steps, you’re nearly there. Sarah kept her face expressionless, pretending not to see or hear anything.
Finally she reached the gate exiting Hyde Park onto Kensington Road. It was still quite a walk to the end of Stanford Road, but she didn’t want to waste money on a hansom or steam taxi if her feet were perfectly capable of taking her where she needed to go. Just about forty minutes later, her arm aching from the weight of the bag, she arrived outside his house.
Sarah paused at the bottom of the steps. Even a few years ago it would have been unthinkable for a young woman like her to visit a man by herself, but progress had come to the Empire in the form of science and invention, which in course had loosened some restrictions.
Just as long as she didn’t make visiting him a daily occurrence, she would be fine.
She hated that she had to go to him with her metaphorical hat in hand, but her alternatives were unacceptable. She exhaled, walked up the stairs and used the brass knocker in the shape of a dragon.
How fitting.
The door opened to the butler, a tall, middle-aged man with the pinched lips and disapproving eyes of his profession. “Good afternoon. How may I help you?”
Sarah stepped inside the large entryway. “I am here to see—”
“Jennings, who is it?” The deep voice made her shiver.
Sarah stiffened and faced her nemesis. Archer Martin Latimer leaned against the doorframe two doors down the main corridor, which probably led to his office. Ink covered his fingers and he wore no coat.
Jennings raised his brows at her.
Unwilling to play Latimer’s games, she set down the bag, handed the butler her coat and gloves. “Unless your eyesight has taken a dramatic turn for the worse, you know very well who I am.”
For a moment Jennings stood and looked between the two of them. “Sir, you have a visitor.”
Latimer smirked. “Miss Rigdon could be here for Mr. Dorvee.”
“Please, do not worry yourself, Jennings. I am indeed here to see Mr. Latimer if he is free.”
The butler looked at his employer. “Anything else, sir?”
Latimer shook his head. “No, that will be all for now, Jennings.”
They both watched Jennings walk away. An awkward silence fell across the entrance hall. Finally Latimer straightened and waved Sarah into his office. “If you would like to come in, Miss Rigdon.”
Sarah clung to the bag, and her composure, with both hands as she walked closer. She had no idea what it was about him, but Archer Latimer always threw her off balance, overwhelmed her with his presence and charisma. Which was why she usually excused herself as soon as she could when they met at gatherings and functions, and watched him from afar.
His office was like him—big, bold and brassy. Oversized bookshelves covered every available wall space in dark wood, framing his strong body. Half the shelves were filled with books, but the ones closest to the large desk were filled with cogs and gears, small clockwork creatures and contraptions she had no names for.
She lifted her hand as if to open the lid on top of a circular brass box. Before she had even gotten close Latimer barked, “Don’t touch that.”
She balled her hand into a fist and took a deep breath. The scent of earth and paper filled the room, with a hint of engine oil thrown in. Sarah would never admit it outside her own head, but Latimer’s sharp tone and dominant demeanor loosened something deep inside her.
With him you wouldn’t always have to be in charge of everything.
Dismissing the thought, a repetition of something that swirled through her head every time she encountered him, she focused on the task at hand.
Latimer gestured to a comfortable chair in front of the desk before he dropped into the large-scale leather chair behind the workspace. His tall figure made it look small. Chocolate-brown eyes set in a roughly hewn face studied her. High cheekbones and a solid chin matched his powerful build. He was an intimidating figure, but a small part of her in the furthest corner of her mind knew that the woman he cared for would never have to worry about facing the world on her own.
He flipped a gear and the raised rectangular area at the center of the desk, up until now tilted toward him, slid down until it rested back in the flat of the desktop.
“Interesting.” She saw he’d been working on technical drawings. “It must make it that much easier to work.”
So what if she sounded like a ninny? She needed a moment before she made her requests.
He raised his right eyebrow.
Sarah pursed her lips. She hated it when he gave her that look.
Latimer smiled sardonically. “It does.” He rested his arms on the desktop and leaned forward. “Color me surprised, Miss Rigdon. After our last encounter I did not expect you to arrive on my doorstep.”
She clenched her jaw. Was he really going to bring that up instead of just leaving it in the past where it belonged? “Whatever would make you think that?”
He tapped a finger against the desk. “Well, you did call me a bottom-feeding opportunist who stole other engineers’ hard work and used it to grow my own fortune.”
“That was then. This is now. You s
hould be well aware that it is a woman’s prerogative to change her mind.” She raised her chin, quaking inside. Those words had exploded out of her after an agonizing day attempting to mitigate the consequences of her father’s thoughtless behavior.
That day she had realized how much trouble they were in.
It had been unkind and hurtful and she’d immediately wished to take back the words, but circumstances hadn’t allowed it. She hoped he would read the apology in her face and let it go.
He captured her gaze for an endless moment before a smile curved his firm lips. Appreciation sparkled in his eyes. “I would never dare to question a woman’s right to anything. What has brought you to me today?”
“I am here for two reasons.” She lifted the bag onto her lap, opened. With a hiss the pneumatic shrinking device that matched the bag to whatever needed carrying released, and she removed a square metal box with two colored lights on the top. “This is my father’s latest invention. He calls it the Rigdon’s Banknote Verification Device.” She set it on the desk. “You feed a banknote in here.” She pointed to a slit on the side. “The RBVD will test it. If the note is false, the red light will flash.”
He stilled for a moment, his brow furrowed, before pulling the machine closer. “What made your father go in this direction?”
“He’s been working on this for some time, but under the current circumstances believed it deserved his complete focus.”
“What circumstances?”
If she had feathers he’d be ruffling them. Did he have to be so methodical? “I am sure you are aware of what is happening in the city.”
“I am more surprised that you are. Why did you bring this to me?”
She cleared her throat. Her chest tightened. “My father says he has taken it as far as he can. Because of your previous partnership he’d hoped you may be interested to see if you can identify the issues with the ink scanner and take the device to its final conclusion.”
He sat back and steepled his hands before his face.
When he didn’t say anything for a minute her stomach churned. He had to agree. Otherwise her father’s invention was only a pile of junk soldered together and the trouble she was in had been for nothing. “Of course your previously established conditions would remain.”
He lifted the machine off his desk and added it to one of the shelves. “I will see what I can do.” Latimer returned to his chair and tapped a finger against the armrest. “You mentioned two reasons for your visit.”
Sarah bit her lip and tried to breathe evenly. A flush crept across her cheeks. She’d prepared her speech, but now everything had vanished, leaving her mentally racing to find the right words.
Everything, that is, except the impact his presence always had on her. Sparks rushed through her stomach, spreading out toward the apex of her thighs. She was glad she wore a thick tweed dress as her nipples hardened.
How did he do this to her every time she saw him? And what was this?
“Miss Rigdon?”
“Of course, Mr. Latimer.” She exhaled and dragged her focus back to where it needed to be. Kicking and screaming.
For a moment she wished she had some sort of feminine wiles to use in this encounter, some way to distract him, dull his razor-sharp wit. But looking after her father and their small house didn’t give her a lot of opportunity to learn to be a coquette. “Mr. Latimer, I came here today to see if you could—”
The door banged open and a man stormed into the room. He was slightly taller than Latimer, but had a leaner build. Brown hair, two shades lighter than Latimer’s, curled around his shoulders. He wore only trousers and his shirt was untucked. He looked as if he’d been through a storm. His white shirt was also covered in paint splatter and was half open.
A tingle went through Sarah when she saw his muscular chest play peek-a-boo with her. She should look away, but she’d never seen this much skin on a man.
Propriety be damned. She studied him from under her lashes.
She’d never met this man in her life, but the urge to stroke her hands across the smooth-looking skin overcame her.
The passion gathering inside her simmered hotter.
“Arch, have you seen my notebook?” The new arrival raised his head and saw her. He stopped. “Oh, I apologize. I hadn’t realized you had a guest.”
To Sarah’s surprise he made no effort to button his shirt or make himself more presentable. Instead he crossed his arms over his lean chest and studied her. His gold-green eyes focused on her like a spotlight.
Latimer grimaced. “Jennings should have let you know.”
The two men exchanged a glance. Latimer appearing somewhat tortured, the new arrival filled with mirth.
“Miss Rigdon, please let me introduce Warren Hugh Dorvee, a dear friend and housemate.”
Dorvee bowed. “At your service, Miss Rigdon.”
Sarah swallowed. Their combined gazes made her shiver. The office seemed unnaturally hot. Even in their somewhat casual state of dress Latimer and Dorvee dominated the room. She wanted to get up and touch them, rub her hand across Dorvee’s muscular abdomen and see if the dark hair on Latimer’s forearms, bared by the rolled-up sleeves, was as soft as it appeared.
These shocking thoughts pulled Sarah back from the brink. Her heart pounded, but she concentrated on her responsibilities and duties. She couldn’t afford to be anything but above reproach.
Even in her own mind.
“Mr. Dorvee, are—” She cleared her throat, uncomfortable with how sensual her voice sounded. “Are you a painter?”
Dorvee leaned against the side of the desk. “I am, Miss Rigdon. What gave me away?” Laughter shimmered in his eyes, highlighting the gold sparks in the deep green. Laughter and an appreciation that made the tips of her breasts tingle.
“Oh, I don’t know.” She couldn’t help but fall in with the teasing. “Maybe the colorful decorations on your shirt?”
He pulled his shirt away from his body, giving her another glimpse of a muscular abdomen and a narrow line of hair ending in his trousers. Brief as it might have been, her hard nipples rubbed against her chemise and the boning of her corset. Sparks traveled from her breasts to her stomach and below.
“Maybe I am only starting a new fashion trend.”
Her lips twitched, but then she met Latimer’s look and the heat inside her turned into a blaze. Sarah had always thought of it as anger, but now she realized it was something else.
Something she had no name for.
Something that was caused by the two men before her.
She swallowed. “I am not sure your new trend will replace current fashions right away, but don’t give up. You’ll never know what might be possible with a little bit of patience.”
“How very true, Miss Rigdon, how very true.”
They both looked at her.
Latimer by himself was unsettling enough, but the two of them combined, side by side, were overwhelming. And Dorvee’s hands kept twitching as if he wanted to reach for something. Did he have a condition?
When the silence between them approached awkward, Latimer turned to Dorvee. “Apologies, Warren, but I have not seen your notebook. Have you checked the sunroom? That is the last place I saw you with it.”
Dorvee’s face lit up. “No, I’d forgotten I’d been sketching in there the other day. Thanks, I’ll have a look.”
Sarah smiled at him. “I hope you find your book.”
Latimer and his friend shared a quick glance filled with words she couldn’t interpret. She could have sworn a flash of emotion so hot it made her shiver passed between the two men.
She tugged at the cuffs of her blouse. What a ridiculous notion. She was aware that there were some men who preferred the company of other men, but she’d heard enough of Latimer’s adventures to be certain he did not fall into this category. And bachelors often shared accommodations.
Every artist needed a patron and Lord knew Latimer had the funds to be the handsome man’s personal Svengali.
Dorvee bowed to Sarah. “Miss Rigdon, it was such a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I apologize again for the interruption.” He nodded to Latimer and strode from the room, sucking the energy out with him.
Sarah expected Latimer to make some sort of excuse for his friend’s state of undress, but he only continued to look at her. Before she could put her scrambled thoughts back together the words escaped her. “Mr. Latimer, I need you to pay my father’s annual royalties seven months early.”
Archer raised his brow. He had no idea what he’d expected from Miss Sarah Rigdon, but a demand for an early royalty payment wasn’t it. Her father had improved on Archer’s own patent for a multilevel cog, facilitating the cogs ability to rotate in all directions. This enabled the cogs in the MENV, a Multiple Environment Navigation Vehicle, to run more smoothly. It was an easy modification, but Archer would never take another inventor’s idea without making due payment.
For the last two years, while he’d developed the MENV, he’d paid Rigdon royalties for the use of his cog. And now his daughter, the woman who for two years had teased his senses and driven him a little crazy, wanted him to pay early.
And examine her father’s latest invention.
He bounced his knee, energy sparked by her presence flowing through him.
The invention was intriguing. The Bank of England had been struggling with an increased influx of false notes in the London area for months. It perturbed him that Miss Rigdon knew about this situation. The parties involved had worked very hard to ensure the general public didn’t find out and panic. Paper money would grow worthless and the run on gold could topple their economy.
Mr. Rigdon’s machine was timely indeed. Unfortunately his inventions tended to be big on ideas and rather limited in the execution. Going by Sarah’s expression she didn’t believe in it either.
He would add it to his to-do list, but there were a number of projects more important than trying to fix the unfixable.
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