The Devil's Thief (5 page)

Alasdair
knew he was a bastard even as he closed the slight distance between them and
felt her full lips part to kiss him deeply. He could see it now, could sense
her inexperience. What he’d thought was an act before, took on new meaning now.
But her kisses were like opium, heavy and drugging and sensuous. And her full,
moist lips and eager mouth were made for love. He delved into the pool of her
desire like a man dying of thirst. He would deal with guilt and recriminations
later. He’d taken her virginity, after all. The least he could do was give her
pleasure in return.

He
had to admit, albeit reluctantly, that the night had taken on a new and
exciting thrill, as he pulled away from her kiss to stare at her heavy-lidded
eyes. He was the first.
The first to taste her, to touch her.
The first to make her feel this way.

“Make
no mistake, Juliet,” he whispered. “If we don’t stop now, there will be no
turning back.” She was his to take care of now. They were beyond the turning
point, whether she knew it or not.

She
smiled, though it was still a bit uncertain. That smile captured a small piece
of him. He wondered how much of himself he would lose to Juliet before the
night was through.

“I
don’t want to turn back, Alasdair. We made a bargain.” She quickly added, “But
I expect you to meet your end of it, too.”

“That
is as much as I expected, Juliet,” he assured her, settling deeper between her
thighs with a groan, “and I am prepared to make the sacrifice.”

Juliet
laughed and Alasdair’s heart skipped a beat. “Then I shall keep the bargain,
and accept what you offer,” she said, wrapping him tightly in her embrace.

Chapter Four

Julianna
slipped her shirt back on. She had gathered her clothes and was dressing in the
far corner of the bedroom, careful not to wake Alasdair. It had been hard to
lie in his arms, forcing
herself
to stay awake until
she was sure he slept soundly. She hadn’t slept the night before worrying over
her plan to steal the pearl. And last night . . . ah, last night.

Even
though she had been lecturing herself nonstop for the last few minutes, ever
since she’d stolen out of Alasdair’s bed, she couldn’t resist looking at him
one more time. The sun was only just peeking over the
horizon,
the bedroom no more than a shade brighter than it had been when the waning moon
was their only light. She could see him better now. See his blond curls against
the pristine white of his sheets, the creamy color of his smooth skin just
waiting for the sun to warm it. His shoulders looked so broad and muscular,
even lying there in repose. She could see freckles on them, and on his arms.
She hadn’t noticed them earlier.

He slept
so soundly. The sleep of the innocent, she supposed. She hadn’t slept like that
ever, it seemed.

Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in
thy breast! / Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest,
Julianna thought. But those were
Romeo’s lines. Juliet’s were perhaps more appropriate.
Good night, good night, parting is such sweet sorrow, /
That
I shall say good night till it be morrow.
Julianna
sighed. She was no Juliet and Alasdair was not her Romeo. A grim smile crossed
her lips. Thank God. Because everyone knew that had ended rather badly.

Julianna
took one last glance at her sleeping Romeo before turning toward the window. It
was the way she’d arrived. Alasdair had a rather convenient balcony facing the
mews, which were still quiet in the early morning. She patted the hidden pocket
in her shirt, which still contained the pearl. Then she pushed her hair out of
the way and climbed over the railing and shimmied down the post to the grass
below. She hadn’t dared to risk searching for her hairpins. But it mattered
little. If she
was
quick, no one would see her with
her hair down.

She
had only to cross the street, after all.

*
         
*
         
*

“Good
morning, Father.”

When
she walked into the breakfast room three hours later, Julianna greeted her
father in the same manner she did every morning. He was sitting at the head of
the table, his spectacles perched on his nose as he sipped his tea, ate his
toast, and read the paper. Her usual morning routine seemed rather surreal to
Julianna. All was as it had been the day before. All
except
her. It was as if her night with Alasdair had never happened, and yet it was
one of the most important nights of her life. It was hard to reconcile the two
realities.

“Good
morning, my dear. Would you care for tea?” He gestured at the footman, but
their butler, Handley, was already bringing her a cup. He set it before her and
held the teapot with a questioning quirk of his head.

Julianna
wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it. He did the same thing every morning,
and every morning she nodded politely, just as she was doing now, and then he
would pour the tea—yes, just like that. And then he would ask, “Would you
care for something to eat, miss?”

“Yes,
Handley, thank you.”

He
stepped over to the sideboard and took a plate from the footman. It was already
heaping with her usual morning fare of toast, eggs, and tomatoes. Julianna
could have cried at the sheer monotony of it.

“And
what do you have planned for the day, Julianna?” her father asked hopefully.
Every day he asked, wishing that she would regale him with plans that included
a ride in Hyde Park, and perhaps a shopping excursion to Bond Street with some
mindless little horde of marriage-market hopefuls. Really, it was as if the man
had forgotten everything about what their life had been like up until his recent
marriage to Baroness Linville.

“I
have an errand to run,” she said vaguely. She took a sip of tea and set the cup
down just as Handley placed her plate in front of her. “Thank you, Handley,”
she said with a smile, not willing to forego that particular morning routine.
Julianna made a point of thanking everyone, whoever they were, for anything
they did.

“You’re
welcome, Miss Harte,” Handley replied gravely. He’d learned to say it, or else
Julianna would ignore her food and the conversation until he did. She couldn’t
wait for the day her stepmother, who hardly acknowledged the servants,
inadvertently thanked him and he replied with, “You’re welcome.” Then her life
would truly be complete.

Her
father was looking at her suspiciously. “What kind of errand?”

Julianna
finished chewing her bite of toast and wiped her mouth before answering. “I
have a . . . friend in need.” She was being deliberately evasive.

“Handley,
will you excuse us for a moment?” Mr. Harte asked, still looking at Julianna.
“You should refresh the tea for her ladyship. She will be down shortly.”

“Of
course, sir,” Handley said smoothly. He shooed the footman out of the room and
closed the door behind them after he picked up the teapot, which Julianna could
see was still steaming.

Her
father sighed, and it was all Julianna could do not to follow suit. They were
going to have “the discussion” again.

“Julianna,”
he began, “you know I admire your desire to help those less fortunate. But you
know Lady Linville does not approve of your association with the foundling
home.”

Julianna
kept eating. She knew he wasn’t yet finished.

“Those
children, unfortunate innocents though they may be, are the by-blows of
prostitutes and other unsavory characters from the stews of London. It does not
reflect well on you or your stepmother that you involve yourself there. The
baroness worries that you will be unable to attract a good marriage prospect if
you continue.”

“But,
Father, you helped me to start the home, and you still provide a small stipend
each month. If you truly wish me to close the home, why are you still helping
me?”

Her
father sighed. “I do not wish to make you unhappy, Julianna. I understand
helping others is important to you, and I did make a promise to you. But there
are many acceptable forms of patronage, my dear. Perhaps you could consider
putting your limitless energy to work at one of those?”

Yes,
it was the same speech as always. Julianna stopped listening, merely nodding
her head at intervals.

Her
father was still quite good-looking, even at forty-three. His hair was a thick
golden brown, with just a hint of gray at the temples. Very distinguished. He
had a few lines forming around his deep blue eyes, but the dimple in his cheek
made him appear almost boyish at times. With his trim, athletic physique it was
no wonder the baroness had pursued him despite his lower rank and empty
coffers. She certainly couldn’t have done better.

Her
new stepmother was still an enigma to Julianna. She was older than Julianna’s
father by at least ten years. Small, thin, worrisome, she reminded Julianna of
a little bird always pecking away, worried about the coming winter. Her hair
was the same nondescript gray as a robin’s feathers. She kept it cut quite
short, and was always wearing a delicate hat or a turban sporting colorful
plumage. Her features were dainty, with small, round eyes of a surprisingly
bright shade of hazel green, and a tiny, pointed nose. She had never been
unkind to Julianna, but she was childless from her first marriage, and Julianna
rather thought she had no idea what she was supposed to do with a
fully grown
daughter. Well, Julianna had no idea what to do
with a
fully grown
stepmother, either.

“So
we shall see how you like him, hmm?” her father ended with a smile, and it took
Julianna a moment to return from her woolgathering to comprehend his words.

“See
if I shall like whom?” she asked with alarm.

“Juli-anna,”
her father admonished in that special way he had when he was annoyed with her,
stretching her name into two distinct halves. “The baroness has arranged a
dinner party for Friday so that you can be introduced to that nice barrister
she told you about. The one from Hampstead.”

This
and the baroness’s refusal to help Julianna in her patronage of the foundling
home were the two areas in which Julianna and her stepmother openly disagreed. Lady
Linville was determined to see her married off to someone “suitable to her
station.” Which was a nice barrister, it would seem, since this would make the
fourth that she’d been introduced to in as many months. Oh, yes, they were all
nice,
until they figured out she had a brain and was not
averse to exercising it regularly.

“How
delightful,” Julianna drawled, and her sarcasm was not lost on her father.

“Your
stepmother only has your best interests at heart, Julianna,” he told her
crisply. “She has the connections to make a fine match for you, and you have
the opportunity to lead the life of a wealthy matron. Many young women would
envy you.”

“Would
they?” she murmured, then immediately went on the offensive. “Father, did you
marry the baroness so that you could marry me off to someone suitable?”

Mr.
Harte turned a delicate shade of pink, and began to fumble with his cutlery,
avoiding her eyes. “I married the baroness for several reasons, but yes, one of
those reasons was so that I could provide you with the opportunity to assume
your rightful place in society.”

Julianna
sighed deeply and put her hand over her father’s, drawing his gaze back to hers.
“Oh, Papa, I do wish you had consulted me first. For I would have told you that
I did not desire that, and that I certainly did not wish you to sacrifice
yourself for my sake.”

He
looked surprised. “Sacrifice myself?
My dear, how you
exaggerate.
Lady Linville and I get along quite well, you know. There
are . .
. ,
” He coughed delicately into his hand. “Yes,
well, marriage is a tricky thing, you see, and there are things between a man
and a wife of which the world knows nothing.” He cleared his throat and sat up
straight, looking as if he’d said too much, his face a bright shade of red now.

“Handley,”
he called out. “Do bring the tea, Handley.”

Julianna
could only stare at him in shock. Was he talking about . . . no, surely he
wouldn’t discuss that with her. Father?
And the baroness?
Her mind rebelled at further thought in that direction. She was as glad to end their
conversation
as he seemed to be.

She
needed some information from him, and decided now was as good a time as any, since
he might be more forthcoming in an effort to forget the awkwardness of a moment
before.

“Father,
do you remember the pearl? The one we saw at Mr. Sharp’s the other night?”

He
scoffed. “Remember it? How could I forget? One doesn’t see that quality often,
my girl. A pearl of the first water,” he added with a mischievous grin.

Julianna
bit her lip to keep herself from laughing out loud.
Glory, how marvelous
.
The pearl
should fetch enough to cover the back rent on the foundling home.