A Kiss Before Dawn (9 page)

The older man sent him a disdainful glance. “Back off, stable boy. This is between me and 'er.”

Still clinging to Miles's arm with all her might, Emily glared at Jack. “I could go to the law, you know.”

“You could, but you won't. You're in this too deep now, princess. If I go to jail, so do you and your little friends.”

Damnation, he was right again.

Realizing he had her over a barrel, Jack smiled grimly. “'Ere now. Never let it be said I'm an unreasonable man. You do this next job, and it's possible I could be…persuaded to let you see what I've got. If I'm feeling generous, that is.”

“And I'm just supposed to trust you?”

“What other choice do you 'ave?”

None. It galled Emily to no end, but she had no option but to continue to give in to his blackmail for now.

She couldn't take the chance that he might hurt someone she loved.

Straightening her shoulders, she leveled Jack with a look of pure loathing. “When do you want us to do it?”

“There now. I knew you'd see it my way.” He gave her a smug, satisfied grin. One she longed to claw from his face. “The time isn't right to make our move yet. I'll send a message round as soon as I'm ready.”

“Is that all?”

“Not quite. There is one more thing. Make sure you keep your trap shut and tell Peter Quick nothing.”

Emily blinked at him in surprise.

“Yes, I know 'e's 'ere. I 'ave my ways. And I'm warning you to keep 'im away from this. I'd 'ate to see anything 'appen to my old friend Peter.” Those chilly gray eyes bored into her, making her flinch. “But you know, accidents 'appen, even to the best of us. Remember that.”

With those words, he spun on his heel and faded into the darkness.

Emily didn't hesitate, but turned and started toward Jenna and the horses with Miles trailing along behind. Damn Jack Barlow for coming back and turning her life upside down! Now he was not only threatening her family, but Peter as well.

And for some reason, that angered her more than ever.

She waited until they were mounted and had urged the horses back along the trail to Knighthaven before speaking again.

“This has gone too far. We must do something to stop him.”

Jenna sent her a concerned glance. “Yes. But what? Nothing 'as changed. If we turn 'im in,' e'll just blurt out the whole sorry tale about your mum. Not to mention we would be arrested, too.”

“I know.” Emily tightened her grip on Artemis's reins. “If I could just manage to get my hands on this proof he keeps claiming he has, then we'd know once and for all whether there is any truth to what he says.” She looked over at Miles. “Have you had any luck at all in your questioning of the servants at Knighthaven?”

He shook his head. “The few that were around back when your parents were in residence are very close-mouthed. And it's not easy to be subtle when asking about such a thing. I don't want to push too 'ard.”

Emily nodded, then was quiet for a moment as she contemplated their options. Their current course had gained them nothing, and she could no longer afford to
follow Jack's directives in hopes that sooner or later she would stumble across something that would help them.

They had to take more serious action.

“I want you to keep an eye on Jack for the next few days, Miles,” she said finally, meeting the stable hand's eyes. “We know he's staying at the cottage. I want to know where he goes and who he sees. Perhaps he might give something away if we're patient enough. In the meantime, no matter how much I hate it, we may have to resign ourselves to breaking into Brimley Hall. We can't afford to anger Jack. Not at this point.”

It was true, and Emily had to place one hand against her stomach to calm the roiling deep in her belly. Would Adam ever forgive her?

At that moment, the three of them reached the immediate environs of Knighthaven and dismounted.

Miles sent a surreptitious glance at Jenna. “You know, I could walk you 'ome, if you like.”

The younger girl gave a start, then frowned at the stable hand. “I don't need you to walk me 'ome. It's not that far to Willow Park if I cut across the field instead of going by the road, and you need to get the 'orses back to the stables.”

Miles visibly bristled at her superior tone. “It's not right for a woman to be out by 'erself after dark—”

“I'm perfectly capable of—”

“You're perfectly capable of annoying the bloody 'ell out of me!”

“Me? You're the one who—”

Emily winced. Leave it to the two of them to bicker
at a time like this. “If the two of you are going to fight, the least you can do is lower your voices.”

They obliged, but continued to argue in hushed whispers.

It was useless trying to make either of them see reason when they were like this. They had their hackles up and Emily knew from personal experience that this could go on indefinitely. Shaking her head, she took a deep breath and began the walk back to the house, leaving her companions to their disagreement. She had faith Jenna and Miles had sense enough to call a halt to things before they either killed each other or someone stumbled upon them.

She didn't have far to go, and by keeping to the shadows of the numerous outbuildings scattered about the estate, she was able to reach the edge of the garden at the side of the house in no time at all. Peering from behind the safety of a large elm tree, she noted that all was peaceful and still. The moonlight cut a path through the hedges and neatly trimmed flowering bushes, illuminating the surroundings with a pale glow. From here, she could see the window of her bedroom and the candle she'd left burning on the sill to light her way.

She was almost safe.

She started forward, but she hadn't gone more than a few steps when a dark shape suddenly swooped out of the shadows, tackling her with enough force to knock the breath from her body and bear her to the ground.

There was no air left in her lungs for her to do more than let out a frightened squeak, and she reached up
with desperate hands to attempt to push away the solid bulk that covered her, keeping her pinned to the ground.

Her fingers closed on broad, muscled shoulders.

“Just what the bloody hell are you doing out here?”

Oh, dear God, it was Peter!

P
eter had been unable to sleep.

That was not unusual, in and of itself. He'd never been a very sound sleeper. He supposed it came from all those years of having to keep one eye open, even at night, as a boy on the streets of London.

But he knew it wasn't entirely habit that had led to his restlessness tonight. The case of the Oxfordshire Thief was weighing heavily on him. And he had to admit that a certain angelic-looking, blond-haired young lady was on his mind far more than she should be.

He had paced his room for well over an hour, trying to concentrate on the facts that had been laid out before him that day. From what Lord and Lady Tuttleston had said, he couldn't help but draw the conclusion that whoever had stolen the necklace and other items knew
the couple quite well, or at least was very familiar with their house and their routine.

As he'd turned that thought over and over, however, trying to come to some sort of conclusion, Emily's image had interfered with his usual cool rationality. Deciding to escape from the confines of his bedchamber, he'd made his way outside to the garden, where he had been grateful for the brisk night air that cleared his head.

If ever there had been a case that Peter felt compelled to solve, it was this one. From the moment he'd arrived at Knighthaven, he'd felt something stronger than his usual need to succeed pushing him onward. He had to catch this thief, to bring an end to the man's life of crime. He owed that much to Tristan and Deirdre. And meeting the kindly Lord and Lady Tuttleston today had only added to his determination.

He had no idea how long he'd been out here. It could have been mere minutes or more like hours. He'd lost track of the time as he'd wandered the moonlit pathways, and he'd just been contemplating returning to his room when he'd noticed the cloaked figure slinking from tree to tree, coming ever closer to the house.

The thief!
a voice in his head had hissed. It seemed a definite possibility, for who else would be skulking about the grounds of Knighthaven so long after midnight?

His whole body went on immediate alert, and taking care to remain in the shadows where he could not be seen, he'd worked his way closer to the figure, then stationed himself at the edge of the copse of elms, waiting for the thief to make his move and step out into the open.

Surely it can't be this easy,
Peter thought, the anticipation and the adrenaline pumping through his veins like sweet nectar. He damned himself for leaving his pistol in his room, but he'd never expected such an event to occur. Had never expected that the thief might try to break into Knighthaven right under his nose.

The bastard was in for a rude awakening.

When the shadowy form finally broke from the concealment of the trees, he didn't hesitate. He lunged forward, catching the intruder about the waist and knocking him to the ground.

But the moment he felt that soft body lying beneath his own, he knew this was no thief. The rounded curves pressed against him were much too familiar, the smell of roses making it nearly impossible to mistake her for anyone else.

Emily.

Anger at her foolishness blazed through him. “Just what the bloody hell are you doing out here?”

Hands clutched at his shoulders, and he waited for her to reply. But no explanation appeared to be forthcoming. The silence went on past all bearing, and just when he was ready to shake her in sheer frustration, he realized that she
couldn't
answer him.

He had managed to knock the wind from her.

His anger momentarily usurped by concern, he got to his feet in one swift motion and grasped her wrists, pulling her up next to him.

“Are you all right?” he demanded.

A second passed while Emily gasped for air, then she
gave an abrupt nod that had the hood of her cloak falling back and a spill of gold curls tumbling about her face.

She was so petite, so fragile. The thought of how easily he could have hurt her once again brought his anger to the forefront. “Are you mad? What are you doing wandering around out 'ere in the dark wiv a thief on the loose? Do you ‘ave any idea what could 'ave 'appened to you?”

As always whenever he was emotional, the hint of Cockney he had tried so hard to get rid of crept back into his voice. But at this point he didn't care. The foolish woman had put her very life at risk by sneaking out of the house after dark, and for what? What could possibly be so important to her?

As he watched, he saw the hint of temper flare in the dusky purple of her eyes, and he had to stifle a groan when he noticed her chin go up in a haughty manner. She was going to be stubborn. He should have known.

“I couldn't sleep,” she said, her voice filled with a distinct chill. “I simply needed to get away for a while, to get some fresh air, so I took a walk. And there was no risk. This thief hasn't hurt anyone that I'm aware of.”

“There's always a first time,” he told her, still tempted to shake her. He clenched his hands into impotent fists at his sides in order to restrain the urge to do so. “And you 'ave no idea what 'e might 'ave done if you'd stumbled across 'im in the act.”

“Well, I have returned, safe and sound, so there's no need to belabor the point.” She looked up at him from
under lowered lashes. “And there's no need to bother Tristan and Deirdre with this little incident, is there?”

“No need—” Her gall astounded him. “I ought to turn you over my knee and deliver you the thrashing you deserve right now.”

She took a step back from him. “You wouldn't dare!”

“At this point, I believe I'd dare anything where you're concerned, so I wouldn't push me.” Taking a deep breath, he struggled to rein in his temper, and when he spoke again, he was gratified to note that he had managed to subdue that betraying trace of Cockney. “Where exactly did you walk to?”

“I don't believe that's any of your business.”

“Until this case is solved, everything that goes on at Knighthaven is my business. Now, are you going to tell me where you went, or do I need to march you inside to Lord and Lady Ellington and have you tell them?”

Emily's defiant gaze abruptly skated away from his and she bowed her head, shifting her weight from one foot to the other in a rather agitated manner. “Nowhere in particular.”

Peter frowned in sudden suspicion. Nowhere in particular? At that moment, a picture of Lord Moreland flashed across his mind's eye and his anger flared back to the surface. Was it possible…? Could Emily have arranged some sort of illicit rendezvous with the man? All too easily he could envision the arrogant lord enfolding her in his arms in the moonlit garden, kissing her, touching her…

Taking a step toward her, he reached out to catch hold of her elbow in an unbreakable grip. “You weren't
perhaps having a little tryst with Viscount Moreland, were you?”

“What?” Her eyes flew back to his and her mouth fell open in what appeared to be honest surprise. “Of course not! What would ever lead you to believe such a thing?”

“Well, it wouldn't be the first time, would it?”

Emily seemed momentarily at a loss for words, then she let out an outraged gasp and wrenched her arm from his grasp. “If you are speaking of Lord Percy, you know very well I never meant for things to go as far as they did that night. It was only a little harmless flirtation. I never thought…” She bit her lip and shrugged her shoulders in helpless entreaty. “I was young and it was long ago.”

Not so long ago. At least, not for Peter.

It had been the evening of Emily's eighteenth birthday, and her family had arranged a ball in her honor. Though the Willow Park children had celebrated with her earlier in the day, he'd planned to slip over to Knighthaven that night long enough to wish her a happy birthday and to give her his gift in private.

He had saved up the money he had earned working in the stables at Willow Park for months, and had managed to come up with enough to buy her a pretty silk shawl he'd noticed her admiring in one of the shop windows in the village. It wasn't much, but he'd wanted to give her something. He'd hated the distance that had existed between them, and as he knew it was his fault, he'd wanted to make it up to her in some small way.

But by the time he'd arrived at Knighthaven and
peered through the French doors into the ballroom, hoping to catch her attention, he'd seen her dancing with Lord Percy. Whirling about the floor, fluttering her eyelashes in a most coquettish fashion, she'd held the young man spellbound. Peter had felt as if a knife had been plunged into his heart.

But before he could slink off to nurse his wounds, the dance had ended and the couple had come out to the garden.

From the shadows, he'd watched as they'd strolled the walkways, arm in arm. Every time Emily had laughed at something the young lord said, it had been like a mortal blow.

Then her companion had decided to become overly amorous in his attentions.

The two of them had come to a stop near the copse of elms close to the central fountain, and Lord Percy had pulled her into his arms and kissed her with fervent ardor. When Emily had pushed frantically at the man's shoulders and given a cry of distress, Peter hadn't hesitated. He'd leaped forward and gripped Percy by his collar, yanking him away from her with brutal force.

It hadn't taken more than a good shove and some threatening words to send the young lord on his way. And then Peter had turned on Emily and given her the tongue-lashing of her life for being foolish enough to allow Lord Percy to escort her out to the garden alone. But she had given back as good as she'd gotten, and her defiance had succeeded in rousing his passion as well as his temper.

Driven by anger and desperate need, they'd come to
gether in a kiss of savage intensity, and from there things had spiraled quickly out of control. Before he'd known it, he'd had her pressed back against a tree with her skirts hiked up about her waist and his manhood poised to plunge into her.

It was only as he'd hovered there at the slick entrance to her womb that he had realized what he was about to do. He could only thank God that he'd managed to come to his senses in time, that he'd somehow found the strength to pull back from her.

And the next morning he'd gone to Lord and Lady Ellington and told them he was leaving Willow Park for good.

“I knew you were there.”

Emily's words, softly spoken, drew him back to the present, and he stared down at her in surprise. “What?”

“The night of my birthday ball. I knew you were there the whole time,” she repeated, peering up at him. In the dimness he couldn't be certain, but it looked as if she might be blushing. “I saw you the moment you peeked in through the terrace doors. Up until then, I'd been having a terrible time. But when I saw you…I don't know. You'd been so withdrawn, I suppose I just wanted to get a reaction from you. Any sort of reaction. That's why I flirted with Percy the way I did.”

Peter raised an eyebrow. That was news to him. “And is that what tonight was all about?” He folded his arms across his chest. “Sneaking out of the house? Were you trying to get a reaction out of me?”

At the question, her chin went up and she glared at him. “Of course not. I have far better things to do with
my time. To be truthful, I care little what you think of me now. It's not as if you have any say over my life.”

For some reason, her words seemed to snap the final threads on his already frayed temper, and he acted before he thought, doing exactly what he had sworn he would never do again.

Reaching out, he caught her by her shoulders and pulled her to him, the feel of her soft curves coming into contact with his solid frame causing his breath to hiss out from between his teeth. Her startled expression was the last thing he saw before he leaned forward and took her mouth with his own.

And the feel of her silky lips beneath his after all of these years was enough to drive every rational thought right out of his head.

Emily was stunned, confused, unable to process what was happening or how it had happened. One moment she and Peter had been disagreeing in their usual vehement manner while she'd scrambled to come up with an explanation for her presence outside at this time of night, and the next he was kissing her with a fierceness that left her reeling.

She felt his hands leave her shoulders and smooth down over the slope of her back, his palms warm even through the material of her cloak as they settled at the base of her spine. Her pulse pounded in her ears as his warm, firm lips tasted hers deeply over and over, conquering their smooth surfaces as if staking a claim. And when his tongue flicked out to plunge into the warm cavern of her mouth, the heady flavor of brandy
clouded her senses until she couldn't remember her own name, much less what they'd been arguing about.

Why was it only this man who did this to her? she wondered hazily as his lips finally left hers and skimmed down the underside of her jaw, his teeth nipping and his tongue soothing the sensitive skin in his path, wringing a moan from deep in her throat. It wasn't as if she'd never been kissed before, after all. Though most of Little Haverton considered her well on her way to spinsterhood, she'd had her share of suitors over the years. But none of them had ever held her attention for long, and none of them had ever made her feel like this.

None of them had been Peter.

She shivered as he nibbled at her collarbone, and her hands, which had been clutching her cloak, closed suddenly, released their convulsive grip, and settled on his broad chest, savoring the feel of sculpted muscle through his lawn shirt.

His hands moved once again, this time traveling downward to cup the rounded globes of her derriere and fit her more intimately against him. She stifled another moan as her most private place came into scorching contact with a thick, hard bulge that could not be mistaken. As heat flared through her, she gave a restless shift and rocked her pelvis forward, rubbing her suddenly moist cleft against the ridge of his arousal in an attempt to soothe the ache that pulsed there.