A Daring Liaison(20)

“I...that...shouldn’t have happened.”

“Tush! ’Twas little more than a kiss. And we’ve done that before, so nothing new at all.”

“Did...did we kiss back then? I’d forgotten.”

Her words were so patently a lie that he laughed. On the strength of that long-ago kiss, and before her aunt had invited him to tea to “talk,” he’d been eager to ask for her hand. This “kiss” had been even more powerful, but he was older and wiser now, and he’d known how to use it to his advantage. No longer a callow lad apt to challenge her, he merely smiled, evoking another telltale blush.

She turned toward her door and took an unsteady step. He gripped her arm again and walked up the steps with her. It was not his intention that she take a tumble because he’d weakened her knees. No, her next tumble, though she didn’t know it yet, would be directly into his bed.

With one hand on the door latch, she turned to him. “Mr. Hunter, I scarcely know what to say.”

“Good night will do.” He arranged the shawl around her shoulders and grinned. “Or, ‘Until tomorrow, Mr. Hunter.’”

A spark in her eyes told him that her wits had returned. “I think it should be ‘Never again, Mr. Hunter.’”

He laughed outright as he gave her a low bow and entered the street.

* * *

Around the corner and down a narrow lane, Charlie found himself deep in thought. Though he’d been loath to admit it, that “kiss” had taken a toll on him, too. One that left him barely able to stand straight.

In the coach, though, the years had slipped away the moment their lips had met and he’d been vulnerable again, young and eager to please. Everything he’d done since then, good and bad, everything he’d become, was because of that kiss. Because of Georgiana.

He hated that feeling. Hated that she could still do that to him—make him remember their long conversations and how she’d said she wanted the same things from life that he did—loving each other, learning, a family, travel, extending themselves in service to those less fortunate, growing old together. He felt he’d found the one woman in all the world who could fill his every need, and he had vowed to fill hers.

But now he knew the spell she could cast over him. Knew how deeply he wanted to possess her. And how deeply she wanted him, too. But that was physical. He could still give her that much. So he would take her. Enjoy her. But never fall prey to her wiles again.

Yes, he’d been deliberate. He’d meant to disarm her and draw her closer to him. He’d meant, in fact, to take her completely and lull her into believing he was smitten with her. But...his conscience had pricked him as deeply as a sword point. If she was innocent of the charges, he’d have a damn lot of explaining to do. But if she was guilty...oh, hell! If she was guilty, he’d want her still. As frequently as he could manage before she climbed the gallows.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he almost missed the movement in the shadows. How had he missed that he was being followed? He barely had time to prepare when, with a suddenness that kicked his heartbeat to a higher level, he was attacked.

A knife slashed across his midsection and he spun away to avoid it. When the knife became caught in his jacket, he used the momentum to gain control. Fear, followed quickly by anger, infused him, making him reckless.

His attacker made a fist of both his hands and brought them down on Charles’s shoulder, trying to drive him to the ground. His arm went numb and he dodged away, leaving nothing but air to brace the man. He went down on his knees, catching himself by throwing his arms out to break his fall.

Charles took the knife by the hilt and freed it from his jacket as he gripped a handful of the man’s hair and jerked backward. He held the knife to his throat, ignoring the throbbing in his shoulder and arm.

“Gor!” the man wheezed as he looked into Charles’s face.

Not Gibbons! Damn it all! “Who are you?” he snarled.

“Don’t matter,” the man gasped.

“What the hell do you want?”

“Uh...yer watch and coin.”

A lie if ever he’d heard one. He pressed the edge of the knife against the man’s Adam’s apple until a fine line of red appeared and a single drop trickled down the man’s neck. “Don’t lie to me if you want to live.”

The man whimpered. “Easy, gov’ner.”

“Who sent you?”

“Nobody. Just bum luck...”