In Your Arms Again (30 page)

He was terrified he wouldn’t be able to stop Harker. And now his greatest enemy knew his greatest weakness. Only Octavia’s upper-class status, something even Harker would think twice about challenging, kept her reasonably safe. The one thing North resented her for was the one thing he was most thankful for at this moment.

“Might we talk as friends, Norrie?”

His brow furrowed. “You can always speak to me. About anything.”

She smiled. There was such an expression of hopefulness in her eyes that it pained him to look upon it, yet he could not look away.

“I would like to ask your counsel.”

Counsel
. Not opinion, not advice. Such a proper, detached term to use with such a friend.

Because he was her friend. Everything else aside, the aching of his heart not withstanding, she would never know another friendship like his, and vice versa.

“Of course.” He clenched his fingers into fists to keep from touching her. “You may ask me anything.”

“It is of a very personal nature.”

Oh God. She was pregnant and didn’t know if he or Spinton was the father. No, that couldn’t be. She had told him she hadn’t been with Spinton, or anyone else for that matter.

Christ. She was pregnant and
he
was the father.

“I do not love the man I am supposed to marry.”

The sigh of relief that threatened to blow him apart at the seams was as much from learning that she wasn’t with child as it was to hear her acknowledge she didn’t have feelings for Spinton.

“That is not uncommon among your class.” It was also not news to him. Octavia never would have shared his bed if she loved another. Strange how that made him want to thump his fists against his chest.

She scowled at the world “class.” “It is not uncommon among yours either.”

Touché
.

“But”—she sighed—“that is not my problem.”

Rubbing his jaw, North nodded. She was quickly losing him. “What is?”

She met his gaze with a direct and level one of her own. “I am in love with someone else.”

It was as though someone had punched him, sucking all the air out of his lungs. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Octavia was in love. In love.

“You see my predicament now,” she continued, as though he wasn’t dying beside her. “I love this man, but am pledged to marry another. What should I do?”

Call for a surgeon, was his first thought, but as air slowly seeped back into his lungs, common sense returned. “Tell me about this man you love.” His voice was little more than a hoarse croak.

She smiled, her gaze falling to her feet. “He is a man without equal. He makes me laugh and he makes me so very angry…” She looked up. “But he has a very dangerous profession and I worry about him.”

A dangerous profession. God, dare he believe…? Did she mean what he hoped/feared she meant? Christ, how stupid could he be not to realize?

“It kills me to think of anything happening to him, and I know living with him wouldn’t be easy, but I fear living without him will prove even more difficult. I promised him I would always be there for him and I will be, but I do not know how he feels for me.”

North stared at her, mouth slightly agape. He must look every inch the idiot, and yet he was powerless to stop it.

Then Octavia took his hand and he knew he was done for. “Norrie,” she began, her eyes wide and pleading. “What should I do? Should I follow my heart and hope that he loves me as well, or should I give up hope and marry Spinton?”

She was his. His for the taking. All he had to do was say the word, and she would be his forever. His friend, his wife, his darling Vie.

A pawn for Harker and other enemies to use against him. A target for all those who wished to destroy him.

A lady. Too good, too much above him. She deserved better than the life he could give her.

But he could give her his love. He could give her his heart. He could do that.

Swallowing hard, North met her gaze. His heart hurt, as though a huge hand was squeezing the very life out of it. His throat was tight, and his eyes burned with tears he simply refused to shed. Not in front of her.

“Marry Spinton,” he rasped. “Marry the man who can give you what you deserve and give up on the other. If he isn’t trying to hold on to you for all he is worth he either doesn’t want
or doesn’t deserve you. Either way, Spinton is the better man. A gentleman in every sense of the word. And for God’s mercy, stop looking at me like that!”

Her damnable gaze followed him as he leaped to his feet and turned his back on her.

“Norrie, please.”

She would break him yet, by God. Tears brimming hot and unwanted in his eyes, he half turned to face her one last time.

“Marry the man who belongs in your world, Vie. Marry the man who stands an outside chance of growing old. The man who can give your children a better life than what we had. Do it for me.”

She swallowed, staring at him with eyes that were as wet as his own. “Telling me what to do again, Norrie?”

He would have laughed if he wasn’t so frigging heartbroken. “Begging actually.”

A tear trickled down her cheek. “You have never begged for anything.”

That wasn’t true. He had begged
her
for so many things.

“Marry Spinton,” he commanded with as much finality as he could muster as he strode toward the door.

“And then what?”

Christ, could she not let it go?

He paused on the threshold and turned his face toward her. If he didn’t leave now he was going to turn into a bawling idiot.

“And then never come near me again.”

“Thank you for taking the time to see me.”

Clad in a black cloak, Octavia removed her veiled hat as she stepped into the somewhat shabby but surprisingly clean back room.

Harker regarded her with a mixture of amusement and wariness, his large form lounging like a tensing lion on a blue velvet divan. Clad only in his shirtsleeves, trousers, and boots,
he looked every inch the dangerous villain. “You intrigue me, Lady Octavia. How did you manage to do the one thing your lover cannot?”

Her hat clenched in her cold fingers, Octavia allowed a questioning expression to pass over her otherwise blank features. “You mean find you?”

Harker nodded. “He has been trying for days. Your luck makes me suspicious.”

Octavia feigned a careless shrug. “North will determine your whereabouts eventually, Mr. Harker, if he has not already.” Saying North’s name brought a rush of pain fresh and sharp with it. But it also brought hope. He wouldn’t have said all those things to her last night if he didn’t love her. All she had to do was take away his reasons to deny it.

Lazily rising to his feet, Harker grinned—a baring of teeth much like a snarl. “You and I know better than that. If Sheffield knew where I was, he would have been here by now. He would not let me get away with approaching his woman.”

Octavia was silent, allowing the far too predatory man before her to follow through to the next obvious fact.

Harker’s gaze narrowed as realization dawned. “Nor would he send that woman here to trick me. He doesn’t know you are here.”

Those words should have been ominous, and would have sent her knees knocking in terror were it not for one simple thing.

“But he will know shortly,” she replied. “His men followed me here.” At least she hoped they had. She might be beyond foolish for coming after Harker on her own, but she wasn’t
completely
without sense.

Harker didn’t seem too concerned about his nemesis’s unavoidable arrival. “Would you like a drink?”

A drink? How very civilized! “No, thank you.”

“Then why don’t you get to the point of this social call?” His tone was mocking, dismissing her as a nuisance, nothing more.

Fine, he wanted her to get to the point, then she would. “I want you to remove your business from London.”

His reaction to that was exactly what she expected. He laughed. “No.”

Of course he wouldn’t say yes. She’d question his wits if he had, and Harker hadn’t made it as far as he had by being stupid.

Twirling her hat on her finger, she casually strode toward the mantel and examined a porcelain sheep there. Inside, she was as coiled as a spring, watching Harker from the corner of her eye.

“Then stay out of North’s way.” She made it sound more like a suggestion than a command.

“I have an idea,” Harker made his own proposal, moving closer on silent feet. “Tell your lover to stay out of
my
way.”

Octavia turned slowly. She wanted him to know she was aware of his approach, but not that he made her the least bit uneasy. Men like Harker were like dogs. They could smell fear and knew how to use that fear to their advantage.

“You and I both know he will not do that.”

Harker folded his arms across his impressive chest. “Then we’re done talking.”

“Do you have a mistress, Mr. Harker?”

That brought him up short. He eyed her warily. “You already know I do.”

How empowering to have this man look at her with the realization that she was not some insignificant twit.

“Cassie Crocker is a lovely girl. A truly fine actress.”

No, he didn’t think her a twit at all. Not now. And ten
pounds said he was beginning to see her as a lot more than simply North’s “woman.”

“Surely she wasn’t fool enough to direct you to me.”

Octavia shook her head. “No, another girl at the theater who knows one of your men told me that. I have known Cassie since she was a girl. Did you know that?”

The frown on his face told her that he hadn’t. It also told him he didn’t like the idea of his men blabbering such details to their bed partners.

“The theater crowd is a lot like a band of criminals, Mr. Harker. They are very close-knit, and close mouthed. They tend to be a tad more loyal to their own, however.” Let him stew on that for a bit.

He made a scoffing sound. “Actresses are little more than whores.”

He was trying to bait her, or maybe he truly meant it. Whatever his reasoning, she wasn’t about to let a man so low on the human ladder make her second guess herself.

“A whore is still leagues above a thief or a murderer.”

The face he made told her what he thought of that. “You think a slag who sells herself is worth more than a man who takes what he wants?”

“You may take everything else you want in life, Mr. Harker, but I know Cassie makes you pay for it.”

Harker’s face flushed dark red. “How does Sheffield pay you?”

His calling her a whore should have been offensive, and maybe it might have been, had there been any truth in his words. If Harker wanted a verbal duel, he’d picked the wrong woman.

“I give myself to North for free.” She tilted her head thoughtfully. “To whom do you suppose Cassie gives herself freely?”

She had pushed him too far. His eyes were as hard as granite, his jaw so tightly clenched it pulsed. Like most men, he
didn’t like the idea of someone else having what he thought of as solely his. Never mind that he probably had several women whom he considered his own private property.

“Cassie will do as I tell her.” But there was a hint of doubt in his bravado. “She knows what’s good for her.”

Octavia couldn’t resist the opening. The only way this man could hurt her was physically, and even Harker would pause before harming the granddaughter of an earl. “Do you truly believe that a woman who knows how to make you beg would be afraid of you?”

Cassie would be smart to be wary of this man, but afraid? No, she probably had enough blackmail material on Harker and more than enough ways of safeguarding it to keep herself alive for a long time.

Much to her surprise, Harker smiled. “Perhaps you are not as much of a lady as I first thought.” He said it as though it were a compliment.

Face impassive, Octavia tilted her head. “I wager I am many things that would never occur to you, Mr. Harker.”

“I usually don’t like mouthy women, but you’ve got a tongue like a whip, my lady. It can cut a man clear down to the bone. Makes me wonder what else it can do.”

Good God, was he going to try to force himself on her? Octavia’s heart almost stopped at the thought. But no, she could tell that wasn’t his intention. Harker wouldn’t want to force her, he would want to conquer her. Despite his distinct advantage over her, he still regarded her as his social better. Years of living by his own rules hadn’t completely erased the ingrained sense of social hierarchy instilled in every English citizen from lowest birth to highest.

“You keep wondering,” she tossed back calmly. “That is all you will ever get.” Turning on her heel, she strode toward the exit. “If you will not agree to leave London, then our business is at an end, Mr. Harker.”

“I’ll tell you what.”

Blood drumming hard in her ears, Octavia paused, glancing over her shoulder at the massive man behind her. “What?”

“I won’t kill him.” Both tone and expression were sincere. “Not unless he gives me reason.”

It must be a large concession for him, but how she couldn’t figure. How did a person go about killing another? She supposed she would find out if Harker ever did kill North, because she would hunt the bastard to the ends of the earth herself.

But his words gave her little solace. “He will give you a reason.”

Harker nodded. “But I will wait for it. That I will promise you.”

Well, that was all she could ask from a murderer and soulless animal. “Thank you.” The words were like sawdust in her mouth.

“If you ever decide to toss Sheffield over, feel free to come find me again.”

She turned the doorknob, fingers trembling. “You could not afford me, Mr. Harker.”

“I thought you gave it away for free.” His mocking tone drifted over her shoulder, raising the hairs on her neck.

“I do. To North Sheffield.” With that hanging in the air between them, she let herself out of the back room, put on her hat, and didn’t stop until she reached her carriage. Once there, shaking in relief, she ordered her coachman to take her home as soon as possible.

It wouldn’t be long before North came calling. This would bring him back to her.