by Candace Camp
“Thank you, but no,” he said a bit stiffly. “I should get back to the office. I have to change into my ‘gentleman’s togs’ for this evening.”
Desiree didn’t urge him to stay—and there was no reason he should feel disappointed by that. The last thing he needed was her meddling in his life, arranging his schedule and pulling his attention from the things he should be thinking about.
When he reached the office, however, he found that the change of location had done little to order his thoughts. He felt uncertain, which was not like him. He didn’t know how he felt about Desiree Malone. He couldn’t tell if she was telling the truth. And, frankly, he wasn’t at all sure what he was doing or why. Was he trying to protect the Morelands? Prove she was wrong? Was he helping her because she’d coerced him into it...or because he enjoyed being with her?
Tom couldn’t deny that he had enjoyed the day he’d just spent with Desiree. She drew him, not just physically, but in many ways. She was clever, she was different, she was irrepressible. There was an ease in being with her that he had never felt with anyone else. He knew her, and she him, because they were molded in the same fires. She understood without explanation things that no one else could. She’d lived, as he had, in two separate worlds.
But he didn’t really trust her. And that, at least in part, was for exactly the same reason. He understood her and her life too well.
Still...she was the child who had reached out to help him long ago. There was a bond between them that he hadn’t known existed until today. It was more than the fact that she had been kind or that he had been grateful. He could not help but feel that they were tied together, that they were somehow meant to meet again.
Tom would have said that he didn’t believe in fate or destiny. Life was more like a throw of the dice, and sometimes you were lucky, sometimes not. But still...there had been so many places along the way where his life could have gone in a drastically different direction. If Reed hadn’t been there that day or Falk hadn’t urged Tom to pick the man’s pocket. If Reed hadn’t been the sort of man he was or the duchess hadn’t set up an orphanage wherein children were treated humanely. If Olivia hadn’t started this detective agency or he’d gone to work somewhere else.
Desiree had traveled an equally varied and even more unusual road, both of them moving far away from Falk and their old life. And now here they were again, brought together by Falk, their meeting once more ruled by a series of events that seemed pure happenstance—him waking up when Desiree broke in, her dropping that gambling chip.
It would be easy to read into that a design, lives arcing around and coming back to touch again. Perhaps he had been fated to help her as she had once helped him. Fated that he and she were tied to the Morelands.
Could it be that she really was a Moreland? Tom had been certain she was not. It had shaken his certainty a bit when she explained her ability to “read” people, but after some thought, he’d dismissed that. After all, many people relied on intuition or instinct, whether it was real or not, and Desiree had not claimed to have significant dreams or other, stranger abilities. But this foreknowledge of danger? That spoke of a more serious power.
Granted, it wasn’t something as unusual as seeing ghosts or pulling information from objects or a long-dead witch jumping into one’s dreams, which were all things the Morelands had done, but not all the Moreland skills were either strong or constant. Kyria, for instance, had responded only to that particular ancient relic, and Reed’s and Theo’s otherworldly experiences consisted of no more than dreams. Desiree’s feeling of impending danger seemed to fit in with the Moreland propensity to live at the edge of reality.
On the other hand, this story was so bizarre, so full of twists and turns and coincidences that it seemed something Dickens or Eliot might write. Or a long inventive fraud set up by a family of swindlers.
He felt, as he had from the beginning, that he was being pulled into something he ought to avoid, that one misstep could land him in a quagmire, entangle him in such a way that he could not find his way out. Tom liked to have his feet on the ground. He wanted to trust in his pragmatic, realistic, even slightly cynical view of the world.
He had set up a life for himself. Tom knew where he stood and what he wanted. He had been saving money for years so that he could buy a house. Nothing large, nothing grand. Just something that was his. Though they were rather vague in his envisioning, there would also be a wife and children in that home.
For all the risks he’d taken in his life and his often cocksure attitude, for all his involvement in the frequently bizarre activities of the Morelands, when it came down to it, at the core of him, Tom desired certainty and solidity. He didn’t want this twitchy feeling that danced in his nerves when Desiree was around. He didn’t like the emotions that clashed in his chest—the thought that she was in danger and the urge to protect her, the suspicion that she was playing him like a mark, even as he wanted to believe what she told him.
None of those feelings, of course, kept him from showing up at her house that evening to escort her to the club. She was wearing green tonight, her eyes bright behind the mask, and it was, he thought, a crime how much that mask made a man want to kiss the lips below it. You’d think he’d grow accustomed to her scent, as well, that seductive, subtle fragrance that conjured up thoughts of moonlight and tangled bedsheets, but every time it laid him low all over again.
He imagined nuzzling her neck, burying himself in that scent, kissing the thin skin over the pulse in her neck. Which didn’t exactly put him in a decent condition or help him watch for an enemy. Distracting. That was the word that described Desiree.
Tom did, however, manage to keep an eye out as they walked out to the carriage and as they left it at the club, glancing up and down the street for any sign of the man who had been following them. Neither the man nor the odd carriage was there. After Desiree sat down at her table, Tom strolled through the place, checking out every face, a practice he repeated at various times throughout the evening.
In between those times, his eyes went back to Desiree. He heard her laugh, and it was like fingers up his spine. He watched her enchanting expression that gave nothing away. He saw the admiration, even hunger, in the men around her, and he felt a rather smug satisfaction that he was the one who would be leaving with her tonight.
Now and then, Tom would stroll outside the club, stopping to chat with the guards and keeping a watchful eye on the street. Once or twice, he walked up and down the surrounding streets, searching for the distinctive carriage.
There had been no sign of the man by the time they left the club and climbed into the waiting carriage. Desiree settled down in the seat beside Tom. She was warm, the faintest sheen of perspiration on her face as she removed the mask. Desiree leaned back against the seat, closing her eyes, and let out a sigh.
“Tired?” Tom asked.
“A bit.” She opened her eyes, rolling her shoulders. “It gets cramped sitting there for so long. I quit early tonight. Today was rather wearing.”
He grinned. “You could say that.” He paused. “You want to do it again tomorrow?”
“Of course.” She flashed him a grin. “You don’t think I’m going to quit after one day, do you?”
“No.” He smiled back. “But I thought you might want to wait a day or two.”
“No. If it gets too taxing doing that and going to the club in the evening, I’ll skip the games. It’s not as if I have to do them.”
“We might do the Marylebone districts tomorrow. I think the one near Percy Circus may be more likely than the area in Kensington.”
“Very well.” They pulled up in front of the Malone house as Desiree spoke.
Tom exited first, looking up and down the street before giving her his hand to climb down. “I’ll walk around a bit after you go in, make sure he’s not parked farther up the street.”
“Let’s both w
alk,” Desiree suggested, and when Tom hesitated, she went on, “You know I’m not fragile or a liability. I’d like to walk after all that sitting tonight.”
His hesitation had not been from fear she wouldn’t be able to handle herself if they discovered their pursuer. It was the thought of being with her alone in the warm darkness that gave him pause. It wasn’t wise. But he said, “Of course.”
Desiree took his arm as they strolled. “What did you think about the club this evening?”
“I think it has good security, a high-level clientele, and it probably rakes in a lot of money. Your brother is, as you said, very visible and active in the club.” Tom stopped in the shadows of a tree, turning toward her. “And you had the whole table in the palm of your hand.”
She arched her brow. “Now you’re going to say how that tells you I’m wicked?”
“No. It makes you talented. It makes you intriguing.” His eyes glinted as a grin flashed and was gone. “And maybe it makes you a little dangerous.” Tom curved his hand against her cheek. “I like you, Desiree. I can’t seem to keep myself from it.”
“But that doesn’t mean you trust me.”
“No. More than that, it means I don’t trust myself around you.” He bent and touched his lips to hers.
Desiree’s arms slid around his waist, and when Tom started to draw his head back, she followed his kiss. Hunger rolled down through him. He’d been wanting to kiss her from the first moment he saw her in the club. Now something broke inside him, and he allowed himself the pleasure. He followed his instincts instead of his head.
The result shook him. He was lost in the moment, heat surging through him, pulsing at his restraints. He had no thought for the man they sought, for the street around them or the danger that might lurk there. His world had narrowed to Desiree’s lips beneath his, her soft body against him, the desire thrumming through his veins. He could feel the heat rising in her, too, and she molded her body to his in a move that sent his hunger spiraling even higher.
There was, moreover, a heady pleasure in knowing that Desiree did exactly as she wanted, that anything she gave, she gave freely. There was no need to consider whether she was trying to please or placate or tempt him. No reason to worry that she might regret this kiss or that he was taking advantage of her vulnerability. Desiree Malone didn’t regret, and nobody took advantage of her.
When at last their lips parted, he gazed down into her face, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his skin tingling as heat flooded him. Desiree didn’t look away, her eyes intent on his.
“You’re making this very complicated for me,” he murmured.
“No.” Even here in the shadow, he could see the twinkle in her eyes. “You’re making it complicated. For me, it’s quite simple.”
“You have no concerns, no doubts, no worries about what will happen?”
“I didn’t say that. But my desire is to let it all play out. That’s part of the fun, isn’t it, discovering what you don’t know?”
Tom couldn’t deny that. The desire to know her in every way was hammering in him right now. He kissed her again, wrapping his arms tightly around her and pressing her into his body. Their kiss was long and deep, and when Tom finally raised his head, they were both flushed and breathing hard, the heat between them palpable.
“I think...” Tom said, taking in a calming breath. “Perhaps right now we ought to tend to business.”
“Of course,” Desiree replied and stepped back, curling her hand around his arm once more and turning to walk forward. “After all, there’s always tomorrow.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
AFTER THEIR KISS, Desiree had trouble going to sleep. She hadn’t expected it, which had only added to the pleasure. However irritating Tom Quick was, he stirred her. She spent an inordinate time remembering the moment, remembering, in fact, every encounter with the man, and as a result sleep eluded her for hours. Despite that, she popped awake earlier than usual the next morning, surging with energy. She dressed and went downstairs to eat alone, both her brothers still sleeping.
Afterward, she ordered the carriage brought around. They needed transportation to Percy Circle, so it made more sense for her to pick up Tom at his office than to wait for him to come to her. Besides, she had a certain fondness for that office. It had been a challenging exit. She’d like to see it in the daylight. And there was even the possibility that she might get a look at the Moreland of Moreland & Quick.
Today Desiree entered the building in a more conventional way, going in the front door and up the stairs. As she reached the top of the stairs and turned down the hallway, she heard the sound of male voices and a laugh. One voice belonged to Tom; she knew that immediately. The other voices puzzled her; there seemed to be two of them, but they sounded almost the same.
She understood when she stopped in the doorway and saw Tom talking with two men who looked exactly alike. All three glanced over at her—the two dark-haired men with mild inquiry and Tom with alarm.
They were twins. Like her and Wells. Desiree’s heart picked up a beat. Tom hadn’t mentioned that there were twins in the Moreland family. For these must be Morelands; one of the men was sitting behind the desk farthest from the door, suit jacket off and looking very much as if he belonged here. His brother lounged against that blasted squeaky-doored cabinet.
“Desiree!” Tom jumped to his feet. “I—um, I didn’t know you were coming here this morning.”
“We’re going to the Percy Circus area, aren’t we?”
“Well, yes. I just thought...”
“That I would wait like a good little girl for you to fetch me?” Her eyes twinkled. “Surely you know me better than that.”
“I do,” Tom replied in a grim voice.
“Percy Circus. You’re the one who wanted to know about that house?” This remark came from the twin who was standing.
“Yes.” Desiree turned to him. “Are you the architect who’s a friend of Mr. Quick’s?”
“I am, indeed.” He had laughing eyes. So did his brother. It felt very strange to be looking at people who might be her...what, brothers, cousins? Did she feel a connection? She couldn’t see a resemblance to her. Their eyes were green, but a different shade. Their hair was black as midnight and they were tall, both things unlike her. The man went on, “I’m Alex Moreland.”
“I’m sorry,” Tom inserted quickly. “Miss Malone, allow me to introduce you to my business partner, Con Moreland, and his brother Alex. Gentlemen, Miss Desiree Malone.”
Desiree had the distinct feeling Tom wanted to ward off any attempt by Desiree to tell the men who she was. She had a very strong urge to do just that. But Tom clearly didn’t want her to, and while it shouldn’t matter to her what he thought, the truth was that it did. Also, she had implied that she wouldn’t confront the Morelands if Tom agreed to help her find her father, even though she hadn’t actually said those words. So she would not, even if she was so conveniently (and through no fault of her own) meeting them.
Con had already risen from his chair, curiosity bright in his gaze. “Tom’s helping you locate a house?”
Desiree nodded, not sure what to say.
“Yes,” Tom inserted quickly. “It’s where her brother lived when he was young.”
“It’s an interesting puzzle,” Alex explained. “There were certain parameters—the location of a triangular park and an intersection of multiple streets, as well as some other things.”
“That sounds like Percy Circus, right enough,” Con agreed. “What’s the story?”
Desiree hesitated and glanced again at Tom. He looked pained.
“I’m sorry,” Con said. “No doubt it’s a private matter.”
Tom muttered something under his breath, let out a sigh and said, “The thing is, Miss Malone is looking for her father.”
“Ah, a missing persons case.”
“No
t exactly. Miss Malone believes, well—”
“I’m the person who broke into your office,” Desiree announced.
Both the Morelands gaped at her. Tom began to laugh. “Well, there’s an accomplishment. You’ve rendered the Greats speechless.”
“I couldn’t think of any subtle way to say it,” Desiree told him. She turned back to the brothers. “I didn’t take anything.” She explained about her search for the envelope from the attorney named Blackstock, ending with, “I couldn’t find any envelope like that.”
“No doubt because it wasn’t here.” Con seemed more confused than upset as he looked over at Tom. “Was it?”
“Not that I ever saw,” Tom replied.
Con went on, “I don’t know any lawyer named Blackstock. Do you, Alex?”
Alex shook his head. “Peculiar thing to steal.”
“But the envelope isn’t the important thing.” Desiree pulled the conversation back to her subject.
“It seems rather pertinent to me,” Con replied mildly. “But go on. What is important?”
“What I did find while I was searching was...a ring with the Moreland coat of arms.”
“Con’s ring?” Alex asked. “I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I,” Con replied cheerfully. “But it’s all very intriguing. Go on, Miss Malone. I assume there’s more. Did you take it?”
“No.” She dug into her reticule and her fingers closed around Brock’s ring. Nerves danced in her stomach. “But I recognized it.” She held it out in her open palm. “My brother has one just like it.”
“Good Lord.” Con plucked the ring from her hand and examined it. “It is just like it.” He handed the ring to Alex. Then his eyes narrowed and he said, “Wait. Is this a joke?” He looked suspiciously at Tom, then his brother. “Did you pinch my ring to run a game on me?”