A Loving Scoundrel (25 page)

A
N INN WASN
’
T A GOOD PLACE TO DO IT
. Tyrus came to that conclusion when midnight rolled around but the lights were still on in the girl’s room. He still couldn’t believe he’d found her again, after he’d lost hope that he would. He’d been so confident, after visiting the nabob, that he’d get the job finished this time. Then to find she wasn’t where he’d thought she’d be, where he’d seen her go the day he’d followed her. She’d been kicked out and they didn’t know where she’d gone. And London was too bloody big to just hope he might run into her again, so he’d given up.

He hadn’t gone back to tell the lord though, didn’t want to own up that he’d failed yet again. But he’d found her again! And he wasn’t going to lose her this time; he was going to finish the job tonight.

He’d figured he’d have a few hours’ wait, so he’d swiped a bottle of rum out of the innkeeper’s stock to take up to his room. He hadn’t figured the couple wasn’t there to sleep. He should have though. The girl had turned into a prime piece, just like her mother. And the gent she was with had had his hands all over her.

Still, they had to sleep sometime. He doubted they’d head back to wherever they came from in the middle of the night. So he waited, and waited. Every ten minutes or so he’d open his door just enough to see if the light was still coming from the crack under hers.

It was too bad the girl was with a Malory. That family was so notorious, even he’d heard of them. That they were all bloody lords wasn’t the problem, but rather that they weren’t men to cross. Prime shots, he’d heard, masters at dueling, masters at fisticuffs— masters at evening scores. So he’d try not to hurt the bloke, just hit him enough to knock him out.

With his rotten luck, he’d probably kill Malory, too. But not if he killed the girl first. As soon as she was dead, he’d have his luck back.

Danny had the dream that night, the bad one. She shouldn’t have. It had only ever plagued her when she was nervous about something, frightened, or just plain uneasy, none of which applied that night. But it woke her, as it usually did, when the club swung toward her head.

After a single shiver to shake the dream off, she turned to move closer to Jeremy. For once, she had someone to gain comfort from. Not that she thought to wake him. Just being near him, touching him, was comfort enough.

But she was awake enough now to have no trouble hearing the soft rap on the door and the woman’s voice asking, “Jeremy, are you there?”

Danny stiffened. A number of things ran through her mind, none of them nice. And she was none too gentle in shaking Jeremy awake to hear about it.

“What?” He sat up immediately.

“There’s a wench at the door calling for you,” Danny fairly snarled.

“The devil there is. Were you dreaming?”

And outside the door again: “Jeremy, I hear you in there. Are you decent enough for me to come in?”

“Oh, good God,” he said now in surprise. “Amy?”

“So you
do
know her, eh?”

Danny’s tone was angry enough that he guessed, “It’s not what you’re thinking. That’s my cousin.”

“Sure it is,” Danny said as she put both feet to his backside and kicked him out of the bed.

“Blister it,” he said, gaining his balance before he landed on the floor. “It really is.”

He flicked a match to relight the lamp by the bed. Danny’s gasp drew his eyes back to her, and then to the man she was staring at. He looked just middle-aged, though his hair was pure gray and long, clubbed back with straw. Straw? He was tall, skinny, and dressed like a beggar, his clothes threadbare and riddled with holes.

The man had frozen where he stood when the match flared to life, several feet away from the edge of Danny’s side of the bed, looking as amazed as they were. He had a club in one hand and a pillow in the other, which he had probably intended to use to stuff their belongings into. He had liquor fumes coming off him, an indication that he wasn’t thinking clearly.

“Amy!” Jeremy called out. “Get back from the door, because I’m about to throw something through it—unless you have a gun, in which case you can come in and use it.”

“I don’t carry guns,” the woman called back. “Warren does, though. He’s putting our horses in the stable. He’ll be here in a moment.”

Jeremy was already on his way around the foot of the bed to get to the intruder. The mention of guns had put some panic in the man’s eyes and had him leaping across the bed to get to the door and out of there. Danny caught hold of one of his feet as he shot over her. She lost her grip though, with the momentum he’d gained. It did cause him to tumble headfirst to the floor on the other side of the bed, but he didn’t stay there. Fast for his age, he scrambled to his feet again and ran out the door.

Jeremy charged after him, with no thought for his nakedness. Danny quickly got her skirt and blouse on so she could follow. The door was still wide open. The woman in the hall didn’t try to peek in through it. If she really was Jeremy’s cousin, then she was probably standing out there with her back turned.

Jeremy came back just as Danny finished dressing. He looked nothing but disgruntled, which started her laughing.

“What the deuce are you laughing at?” he asked, his tone as annoyed as his expression.

It was such a comedy of errors, on everyone’s part, she couldn’t help it and said, “You just chased that thief down the hall buck naked.”

“And scandalized me!” Amy called out in an indignant tone from the hall.

“He would have been gone if I’d grabbed my pants first,” Jeremy pointed out logically.

“So chasing him naked helped?” Danny asked. “You caught him?”

“No,” Jeremy mumbled. “He took the quick way down the stairs, tumbled the lot of them, and damned if he didn’t get right up and keep on running. I draw the line at scampering about the countryside naked, thank you very much, particularly without my boots on.”

“Never mind boots, have you got your pants on yet?” Amy asked.

Jeremy rolled his eyes and reached for the pants Danny was holding out to him. A few moments later he said toward the door, “Get your arse in here, puss, and tell me what the devil you think you’re doing, banging on my door in the middle of the night?”

Amy poked her head around the opening now, and seeing that he was at least halfway decent with his pants in place, she came in and said huffily, “I didn’t bang. I was very quiet about it, I’ll have you know.”

“She was, too,” Danny added, sure now that the woman was his cousin.

It was the tone he’d used, and what he’d called her, that had convinced Danny. But seeing the woman now left no doubt whatsoever. She bore the same midnight black hair as Jeremy, the same deep cobalt blue eyes with the slightly exotic slant to them. She was stunningly beautiful, too. Was their entire family like that?

“What are you doing here, Amy?” Jeremy wanted to know.

“For that matter, when did you and Warren get back to England?”

“We sailed in this afternoon, or rather, yesterday afternoon. And I got this feeling—”

“Good God, never mind,” Jeremy cut in with a groan. “Forget I asked. I don’t want to hear about it.”

“Oh, be quiet,” Amy said as she got comfortable in one of the upholstered chairs the room offered.

Jeremy looked about the room for his shirt, since he’d sent it flying when he’d taken it off. He was trying his best to ignore his cousin. Danny sat down on the bed, having a feeling she wouldn’t be getting back to sleep anytime soon.

“We docked this afternoon, or rather, we rowed in. Warren’s ship is probably
still
waiting for docking permission. But as soon as my feet touched the dock, I got the strangest feeling that you were in some sort of trouble. So we went straight to Uncle James’s house, only to find out you’d acquired your own residence while we were gone, so you weren’t there. By the by, how are you liking that?”

“Splendidly, thanks. You didn’t tell my father about your feeling, did you?”

“No, no, I managed not to. But then we expected to find you at your new town house. Was quite annoyed to hear you’d gone off for the day. But at least you had the presence of mind to tell your housekeeper where you were going, in case you were needed.”

“What sort of trouble, Amy?”

“Nothing specific, and actually, it leaned more toward danger than trouble. You weren’t planning on tackling anything of that sort, were you?”

“Anything dangerous? No, nothing like that on the agenda this week.”

She gave him a sour look for the dry reply. “Don’t scoff at this. You know my feelings are
never
wrong. I wouldn’t have dragged Warren out here when we’d only
just
got home if it were just a mild feeling—”

“Course you would have.”

She tsked over his interruption and continued, “But this was a strong feeling. She’s not planning on killing you or anything like that, is she?”

Danny blinked, since the woman was looking directly at her as she said it, and quite suspiciously at that. Jeremy started laughing.

“She kills me with pleasure, but other than that, no,” he got out between chuckles. “This is my—friend, Danny. Danny, meet my imp of a cousin, Amy.”

“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Amy said, rolling her eyes.

“I wasn’t painting it up nicely,” Jeremy insisted. “She refuses to be my mistress, refuses to be my lover, for that matter. She’ll only be my friend. Well, and my maid. Insists she earns her own keep.”

Amy smiled at Danny. “How refreshing. A servant who doesn’t jump at the chance to laze about. Nice to meet you, Danny.”

Danny nodded curtly. She didn’t like being discussed in such frank terms. And it was the first time
she’d
heard that Jeremy considered her a “friend.” She wouldn’t exactly call him that, but then, what would she call him, when he was much more than just her employer? Partner in lovemaking? Cohort in pleasure? Was there even a name for their particular relationship?

“Nothing is amiss, puss, other than your arrival interrupted our getting robbed,” Jeremy went on to assure his cousin.

“So that’s what that was about?”

“Yes. Not exactly a dangerous occurrence, since the chap was only carrying a club. But you
did
interrupt it, so I’ll wager that’s what your feeling was about.”

Amy looked doubtful for a moment, but then conceded, “I suppose he might have awakened you, there could have been a scuffle, which you could have gotten hurt in. Yes, I suppose that could have been it.”

“Does that mean we can get some sleep now?” Warren said as he came through the doorway.

“Welcome home, old man,” Jeremy said, giving his cousin by marriage a jaunty smile. And to Danny, he explained, “This is the second Anderson to have married into the family, the first being his sister, George—”

“Georgina,” Warren corrected by habit.

“Who married m’father,” Jeremy continued. “Warren used to be the most bitter man alive, now he’s one of the happiest, thanks to my cousin here.”

Amy stood up and made a flourishing bow. “I do take all the credit.”

Warren was extremely tall. Danny didn’t see much of his brother Drew in him, except for the height and the golden brown hair the men had in common. Warren’s eyes were a lime green and filled with warmth when he glanced at his wife.

“This is my friend Danny,” Jeremy introduced again.

“Another male name?” Warren replied with a shake of his head. “What is it with you Malorys and your propensity for giving your women manly nicknames?”

“This one wasn’t my doing.” Jeremy grinned. “It’s her actual name, though
I
think it’s short for Danielle.”

“It ain’t,” Danny mumbled.

“And how would you know when you can’t remember?” Jeremy countered.

“I just know,” she insisted.

Her terse tone prompted Warren to say, “I believe we could all do with some sleep.”

“You got us a room?” Amy asked.

“Across the hall.”

“Splendid,” Amy said, and to Jeremy: “We’ll see you in the morning then. We can ride back to the city together. And I want to hear everything that’s been happening while I’ve been gone.”

Warren pulled his wife out the door before she could think of anything else to say and closed it behind them. Jeremy joined Danny on the bed again.

“Are you all right?” he asked carefully.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, I assume you aren’t used to being on this end of getting robbed. Not all that pleasant, is it?”

“Don’t be censuring me on what I was forced to do all these years. I never liked stealing. I hated it.”

“But you did it anyway.”

“I come from the slums, mate. D’you realize how few choices women who can’t read or write, who can’t even talk proper, have?”

“I see why you have such an aversion to that ‘word,’ ” he replied, careful not to say it.