From London with Love

by Diana Quincy

  “Do stop fidgeting,” she snapped at Sophie. “If you like, go on out and see the coachman.”

  Sophie looked conflicted. “I shouldn’t leave you alone.”

  “I shan’t be alone if you are just outside. Besides, this appears to be a respectable neighborhood and anyone who might be trying to harm me won’t even know I’m here. This is hardly one of my regular stops.”

  She felt relief when Sophie exited, leaving her to her thoughts, which went to Edmund. She was still adjusting to the fact that, as her husband, he would no longer be a diplomat. How would their life together be? He did seem different of late, kinder and more attentive to her. Could he actually be developing a fondness for her?

  Her own feelings were in a tangle. Sparrow had seen to that with his kisses. His very presence stole her breath and muddled her mind. Edmund seemed like a lifeless automaton next to Sparrow’s overt virility and masculinity. She sighed. Having Sparrow around certainly made it hard to think straight.

  The horses whinnied and the carriage jerked forward. A slight commotion sounded outside the conveyance before the door pulled open and a man threw himself onto the bench opposite her. But it wasn’t Sparrow. This man was dark haired and thick bodied and he pointed a pistol at her. “Be a good girl and you won’t get hurt.”

  She reared back. “Who are you and why are you in my carriage?” she demanded.

  “Shut yer mouth. I’ll do the talking.” The words were thick with menace.

  Her heart thumped hard in her chest. “Get out of this carriage at once!”

  He waved the gun at her. “I said shut up. Don’t make me use this.”

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “Yer a talker, ain’t ya?” He looked at her incredulously. “And you ain’t so smart since you don’t know enough to shut up when there’s a pistol in your face. That’s probably how you got yourself into this mess.”

  She’d gotten herself into this mess? How? She clutched her reticule, feeling the hard length of the dagger Sparrow had given her inside of it. She clutched the sheath through the thick fabric of her reticule.

  “I apologize. I tend to talk too much when I get nervous.” She forced herself to cry, which wasn’t difficult, considering she’d never been more frightened in her life. She’d never been abducted before. At least, not by a menacing stranger. Sparrow’s abduction didn’t count. “It’s like a nervous tic.” She sobbed a little. “I cannot help myself.”

  “Is that right?” He ran his gaze down her form with an avaricious gleam in his eye and grinned, revealing a rotted brown upper front tooth. “I can think of a way to shut you up.” He moved to sit next to her.

  Her heart knocked even harder. She wept wholeheartedly. “I need to blow my nose,” she said with a loud sniffle. “My kerchief is in my reticule.” She pulled her little purse open and reached inside. She tried to get a sense of how quickly the coach was moving. Not terribly fast, thank goodness, since London traffic made racing through its streets practically impossible.

  The ruffian draped a hand over her shoulder, pulling her closer to him. “He said I have to deliver you alive. He didn’t say anything about you being untouched.”

  He smelled of exertion and spirits. Nausea churned in her stomach. She sobbed harder and tried to make herself a hiccupping, slobbering mess that no man could possibly find attractive. Clutching the handle of the dagger, she pulled off the sheath.

  The ruffian nuzzled her neck. “You smell nice.”

  The carriage came to a halt. Outside a costermonger yelled. “Fresh apples. Come and get it. Fresh apples!” This was her moment. She needed to strike while her abductor was distracted. Whipping out the dagger, she used all of her strength to plunge the blade deep into his lap area.

  He jerked away and howled, grabbing himself between the legs, his body contorted in pain. When he looked back up, fury blazed in his eyes. “You fucking bitch.” He reached for her.

  But her hand was already on the handle. She pulled and when the door swung open, she threw herself out of the carriage. She tumbled to the ground near the coster’s wooden cart and heard the woman’s exclamation of surprise, but didn’t stop to see what happened next. She sprang to her feet and ran with everything in her, dodging carts and people, racing as fast as she could, her pulse slamming in her ears, the sounds of the traffic and people’s bellowing seeming very faint.

  A hand snatched out and grabbed her. She lashed out, striking him. “Ouch. Dammit, Emilia! It’s me, Sparrow, you’re safe.”

  Sparrow. Relief swamped her. He was here. The energy drained from her, leaving her legs feeling so boneless that she could barely carry her own weight. She felt his strong arms surround her and inhaled his comforting scent.

  “My God.” Tension rippled through his body as he buried his face in her neck. “I thought I’d lost you.” The words were shaky and fraught with emotion. “Are you injured?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “Let’s get you away from here.” He gently pried the dagger from her fingers. She hadn’t realized she still held it.

  Putting a sheltering arm around her, he ushered Emilia away from the busy street, down a battered brick staircase that led to the basement of the building where they’d collided. Settling her on a step near the bottom, he knelt and ran an anguished gaze over her stained gown. “You’re bleeding.”

  “No, it’s not my blood. I’m not hurt.” Her teeth chattered, her body trembling uncontrollably. “But I can’t…seem to stop shaking.”

  He cursed under his breath, and before she knew it, he’d swept her onto his lap, settling both of them back on the steps. “It’s the shock.” He wrapped her in his embrace. “You’ve been through an ordeal.”

  “I…he…” She wanted to tell him what had happened but couldn’t seem to find the words.

  “Shhh.” He tightened his hold on her. “Just breathe for now. We can speak later.”

  She clung to him, feeling the comforting beat of his robust heart against her cheek, relishing the strength of his body encasing hers. Her love had found her. She didn’t even try to deny the truth to herself. She’d never stopped loving Sparrow and likely never would.

  “My lady, are you well?” Sophie’s breathless voice sounded from the top of the stairs. “Zut! I was right scared.”

  “Shall I go after the carriage, my lord?” The coachman’s voice.

  Sparrow retained his hold on her. “Never mind about that,” he barked. “Find a hackney. We need to get Miss St. George off the street and home, out of harm’s way.”

  She barely remembered what happened next. The hackney came and they piled in. All she recalled was being safe and protected in Sparrow’s arms the entire way.

  —

  “Another attempt.” St. George took a deep pull of his brandy. “This time, they resorted to abduction.”

  Sparrow followed suit, hoping the drink would calm his nerves. He didn’t even want to think about what could have happened to Emilia if she hadn’t managed to escape. “It seems the culprits have changed their tactics.”

  They were ensconced in two leather chairs in St. George’s study the afternoon after Emilia’s abduction. Last evening, Emilia had been whisked away by her mother as soon as Sparrow had brought her home. “What were you two doing in Kensington? I thought you’d gone to the museum.”

  Tension pulled tight across the back of Sparrow’s shoulders. The last thing he wanted to reveal was that he’d taken the man’s daughter to a bawd house. “I received an urgent message pertaining to the investigation and my source was leaving town within the hour. I had to reach her before she left.”

  “What did you learn?”

  Sparrow swallowed a large gulp of brandy, relieved to have diverted St. George’s attention from Emilia’s presence at Mrs. Gaston’s. “Dominick Ware is apparently interested in stolen goods.”

  “Dominick?” St. George screwed up his face. “That would surprise me very much. The boy is a straight arrow.”
<
br />   A straight arrow who might have killed his own parents as a youth, if the rumors were to be believed. “If he’s dealing in stealing goods, it could mean he is hurting for blunt.”

  “You believe this gives him motive to hurt my daughter.”

  “He does inherit everything if something happens to Emilia.”

  “I don’t like it.” St. George sighed. He looked weary and older than Sparrow had ever noted before. “But I also cannot ignore every possibility, including that perhaps Nick is involved in this mess.”

  “I have some associates looking into Ware. I’ll let you know what I learn.”

  “I’d appreciate that.”

  Sparrow sipped his drink, wondering where Emilia was. He’d paid a call hoping to see her. They hadn’t had a chance to speak yesterday before her mother had hurried her away.

  There was nothing to be done for it except to ask. He wiped his open palms down the tops of his thighs. “How is Emilia?”

  “My daughter is very resilient, thank the good Lord. She’s in her studio, if you care to say hello.”

  Attempting not to appear too eager, he came to his feet. “I would like to ask if her abductor happened to say or do anything that might help us run him to ground.”

  “By all means.” St. George swept a hand toward the door. “Mrs. St. George and I are on our way out to call upon Aunt Agatha. Her health is failing, and we don’t care to disappoint her again after missing our last visit.”

  Sparrow nodded. “I presume the extra guards are in place?”

  “Yes, they are patrolling the grounds, and Emilia understands she is not to leave the property.”

  Sparrow bade his host farewell before a footman escorted him abovestairs to Emilia’s studio.

  “Enter.” Her tenor of her voice, strong and clear, reassured him.

  She stood before her worktable, which was littered with its usual loose sketches, tablets, and drawing implements. “I’m trying to organize this mess,” she said after greeting him and dismissing the footman.

  He drank in the sight of her. “I’m relieved to see no overt signs of your ordeal.” In fact, she looked beautiful. The soft light streamed in from the large windows illuminating her ivory skin and the russet tones of her hair. She wore a simple white blouse that smoothed over her full breasts and a dark skirt that skimmed over her generous hips.

  “I have to say being abducted by you was much more enjoyable.”

  “Did he hurt you?” He didn’t know, not for certain, whether she’d been misused by her abductor. The thought of someone touching her in violence burned his insides.

  “No, I wasn’t hurt.” Insolence gleamed in her eyes. “But I cannot say the same for my abductor.”

  He remembered the sickening feeling that had roiled in his gut when he’d realized she’d been abducted. Sophie and his coachman had been canoodling nearby, not realizing anything was amiss until the carriage had taken off. Terror had sliced through him when he’d caught sight of Emilia a few agonizing minutes later, after her escape, blood staining her gown and the dagger he’d given her still clutched in her fingers. “If the blood wasn’t yours, whose was it?”

  “I made excellent use of your pretty little gift.”

  “You stabbed your assailant? Where? How badly was he hurt?”

  She flushed, the becoming rosiness painting the curve of her cheek. “I cannot say exactly.”

  “I see.” He tried to reassure her. “It’s quite normal not to remember the details in a fraught situation.”

  “Oh, I recall exactly what happened.” She pressed her lips inward. “I stabbed him”—she pointed downward—“down there.”

  His eyes went wide and a startled laugh escaped him. “Are you saying—?”

  She nodded. “When we were young, a boy from the village tried to take liberties with me. Nick pummeled the boy. Later, he told me that there were certain areas of a man’s body to aim for in situations like that and that I shouldn’t hesitate if my safety was in danger.”

  “Ware was right. Thank goodness you remembered his advice.” He came to stand across the table from her. “Do you feel up to answering some questions about what happened?”

  She bit her lower lip, and he saw she was not as unaffected as she pretended. How brave she was, his Boadicea. “I think so, yes.”

  He reached for one of her pencils and tapped it against his palm. “How many of them were there?”

  “Just the one inside the carriage. I didn’t see who was driving the horses.”

  “Did you recognize the man you stabbed?”

  “No, but I would if I ever saw him again.” She shivered. “Which I sincerely hope I don’t.”

  He wanted to take her into his arms and reassure her that no one would ever hurt her again. It killed him that he could not guarantee her that. “Did he say anything that would give you a clue as to his motives?”

  She looked past him, as though trying to remember. “He said I wasn’t very smart to have gotten myself into this mess. Although I’ve no idea what he meant by that.”

  “Anything else?”

  She tapped a finger against the soft curve of her lip. “He said something about having to deliver me alive.”

  He leaned into the table. “Did he give you any hint as to who he was supposed to take you to?”

  “No, not that I can recall.” She blushed again. “He just said I had to be alive. But that it didn’t matter whether my abductor left me untouched.”

  Sparrow cursed, inadvertently snapping in half the pencil he’d been fidgeting with. “If that bastard laid his hands on you—”

  “He didn’t.” She closed her eyes, her face pained. “But I can’t seem to get the smell of him out of my mind. And the feel of his whiskers against my neck.” She rubbed her neck, and he noticed for the first time that the area was reddened.

  He laid a gentle hand over it. “I’ll kill him when I find him.”

  She placed her hand, soft and cool, over his. Unshed tears shone in her brilliant eyes. “I just want this all to be over with.”

  He took her into his arms, holding her gently, his heart aching. He pressed a kiss on the top of her head. “I swear I’ll do everything in my power to make it so.”

  She looked up at him. Their eyes met and held, a potent attraction charging the air between them. “Please,” she said.

  His breath caught as he stared into her vibrant eyes, so full of need and emotion. Everything in him told him to set her away. Not only was she was in a vulnerable state, but this woman, with her open heart and guileless honesty, with her wild, unfettered natural beauty, threatened his self-control and weakened his ability to do what was best for both of them.

  He couldn’t find the strength to put her aside, especially not with her lush body pressed up against his, the expression on her beautiful face conveying her absolute faith in him. He’d never wanted a woman more. He lowered his face to take her lips. She was both sweet and soulful, softening into him as though she trusted him completely. Even though she shouldn’t, especially not with this.

  She parted her lips and took him in. He had a fever for her and once he tasted her, he wanted—needed—more. Widening his mouth over hers, he bent her back over the table, pouring all of his emotions into the deep kiss. He forced himself to stop, to pull away, before he lost all control and dishonored them both.

  “No,” she pleaded. “Don’t stop.”

  His heart slammed hard against his ribs. “Emilia, we cannot do this.”

  She went to the door that had been left ajar for propriety’s sake and closed it.

  Alarm stirred in him. “What are you doing?”

  She fell back against the door and smiled, the expression on her face tantalized him beyond anything. “I want to experience true passion.”

  “You’re to be married in less than two weeks.” Although the idea of Worsely putting his hands on her made his stomach clench with disgust.

  “Edmund has a mistress.” She walked toward him. �
��He isn’t faithful to me. I do not owe him my fidelity until his ring is on my finger.”

  He swallowed. “That’s a very progressive stance. I doubt your future husband would agree with it.”

  “Now you worry about Edmund?” No, he was concerned about himself and the temptation she presented. She came up behind him and ringed her arms gently around his waist, her body resting lightly against the back of his. She was all warmth and fragrant woman.

  “Please grant me this one thing before we part forever. I want you to be the man who makes a woman out of me.”

  Chapter 16

  Sparrow’s heart slammed hard. His body, alert to the feel of hers, wanted badly to press back into her softness, but he resisted the urge, holding himself very still. “Emilia, you have been through a terrible ordeal. You are not thinking clearly.”

  “I decided I wanted to give myself to you in this manner before my abduction.”

  He swallowed. “You did?”

  “There is a passion between us. Just once in my life I want to experience true passion. It should have been you, anyway,” she whispered, her hands wandering up to caress his chest from behind. “It would have been if we’d gone through with it five years ago.”

  His mouth went dry. “We cannot do this.”

  “Whyever not?”

  He tried hard to remember why, which was damnably difficult with her hands roving over him. “Your parents, for one thing. Your father has placed his trust and faith in me.”

  She sighed. “So do I. Otherwise, I would not ask for this.”

  He tipped his head back, resting it against the top of hers. “Your parents could walk in at any minute.”

  “No, they’ve gone out to Richmond. They won’t be back until evening. And I gave Sophie the afternoon off.” She pressed a soft kiss into his back. He felt the impact of it down to the marrow in his bones. “We’re quite alone.”

  “You planned this?” he gulped as the realization set in.

  “I know you don’t want marriage and that’s not what I’m asking for.” She slid around until she faced him, wedged between him and the table. “But when Edmund looks at me, he sees a means to an end, the fortune I will bring to our marriage. Just once, I want to share an intimacy with a man who sees me, only me, and not the money, or the St. George name, or the mansions and estates.”