Bounty Hunter (24 page)

As soon as she spoke she could have bitten off her tongue. Why, oh why did she always
open her mouth before thinking things through? Surely he would recognize her now.

“You’re a woman,” Mr. Sharp exclaimed in shock.

Julianna closed her eyes in despair at her own foolishness. If she had kept her mouth
shut, he wouldn’t have figured that out so quickly, maybe not at all. She was dressed
in dark trousers and a dark shirt, her hair pinned up. In the dark she was certain
she could pass for a man. The waning crescent moon outside barely gave enough light
for him to see her. Even though her outburst had given away her sex, she refused to
confirm it by answering him. She was light-headed with relief that he had not recognized
her voice.

“I thought you looked a little short for a man,” he mused, “but I imagined that you
were an apprentice thief or some such thing. It never entered my head that you might
be a woman.”

Julianna had to press her lips together not to make a disparaging comment about the
contents of his head, since it was clear he had no idea who she was. It wouldn’t be
wise in this situation, although it was her natural inclination.

“Cat got your tongue, Miss Thief?” he asked, and Julianna shivered. She was not afraid
of him—rather, she was afraid that she was losing control of the situation and of
herself.

He shoved the covers aside and rose from the bed, and Julianna almost squeaked in
alarm. He was naked. The pale moonlight flowing through the open window fell across
the floor at an angle, and as he stood next to the bed, the light shone on his very
naked body, illuminating him from his flat stomach to his bare feet.

His face was still covered in shadow, but Julianna remembered it from the many times
she had seen him leaving his house and walking down the street, not to mention the
party she had attended the other night. Mr. Sharp was a descendent of the Stewarts,
all right: tall, handsome, with a high forehead and spectacular blue eyes. He looked
just as the eyewitness accounts had described Bonnie Prince Charlie. She should have
known from his firm, pointed chin that he wouldn’t be an easy mark. But she’d been
distracted by his silky blond curls and those eyes, not to mention the width of his
shoulders. Oh, yes, and, more important, the Stewart Pearl. At the party she had barely
been able to take her eyes off the famous pearl, which sat in solitary splendor in
a glass case surrounded by candelabra—gleaming, pale, and round and begging to be
stolen.

“So you want my pearl, do you?” he asked, his voice smooth and suggestive.

Julianna’s gaze darted up to his shadowed face, but she could see nothing. The anger
and amusement in his voice, however, had been replaced by something else. Something
that made her distinctly nervous, considering that he was naked and she was caught.

He slowly moved toward her. As he approached, she saw that he was indeed holding a
pistol. She wasn’t all that knowledgeable about guns, but at that moment her primary
concern was that the gun might contain a bullet, and she really did not care to be
shot this evening. When he stopped in front of her, Julianna couldn’t take her eyes
away from the gun.

She was so intent on the pistol, she was startled when she felt his finger under her
chin, urging her gaze upward. She met his eyes and a measure of her fear must have
shown on her face.

“I don’t need this, do I?” he murmured, lowering the pistol. Julianna vehemently shook
her head. He smiled at her response, and then released the trigger gently. He leaned
over and set the gun down on a nearby table. Julianna was so relieved, she leaned
back against the wall, her knees weak.

“Why do you want my pearl?” he asked quietly. He reached out and gently brushed a
fallen lock of hair off her cheek, his finger trailing along from her forehead to
her jaw.

He was so close and so unguarded, and a dozen scenarios of how she could escape this
unfortunate situation flashed through Julianna’s mind. But each one ended in violence,
and she found herself strangely unwilling to attack him. He had put the gun down,
as foolish as that might have been, which represented a modicum of trust that she
did not want to betray. The truth was, her odds of escaping were fairly slim. The
only feasible exit was the window, and it was too far away to make it there without
being caught. And if she ran, this odd truce would surely be at an end.

“I need the money.” She surprised herself by answering his question. Although surely
the answer should have been obvious to him. Why else would someone steal something?

That wicked finger of his trailed down her neck and pushed open the collar of her
shirt. He slowly and very lightly rubbed the pad of his finger along her collarbone
and Julianna shivered. She should not, absolutely
should not
, be letting him do that. But it felt delicious, and no man had ever touched her like
that. No man had ever gotten close enough to do so. She supposed she should protest
his familiarity, but the circumstances were not in her favor. And really, what was
she going to do to stop him? If she wanted to, that is.

“Do you?”

His murmured words did strange things to Julianna’s insides. She’d found men attractive
before, but she’d never desired one. She shook her head at her wayward thoughts.
No, no.
That way led to trouble. If she’d learned anything from her father’s devious romantic
entanglements, it was
that.
Desire was one thing; surrendering to it, and the potentially disastrous consequences,
was quite another thing entirely.

“No? You don’t need the money?” He stopped rubbing along her collarbone, and Julianna
felt the skin and muscles there tighten and jump in protest. Surely that was not good.

“No,” she said loudly, and his head jerked back a little in surprise. Julianna blinked
rapidly and then shook her head again. She was so completely out of her depth in this
situation that his mere touch confused her. “I mean, yes, yes I do need the money.
For rent, you see.”

She winced at her garbled explanation. Could she possibly sound any more foolish?
It would be better if she just kept silent.

“Are you desperate, poppet?” he murmured. He was looking at her oddly, his head tipped
to the side. His finger resumed its exploration of her collarbone, adding a new twist
as he dragged it down one side of her deep, open shirt collar and back up the other
side. Julianna shivered and bit her lip to suppress a whimper. “How desperate? I wonder,”
he said, and Julianna wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or to himself.

He stopped the movement of his finger but left it pressed against the hollow dip between
her collarbones. Good lord, she’d never imagined that area could be so extremely sensitive.
It would be difficult to expose her throat and shoulders in the latest fashions without
remembering his touch. He had managed to make such a simple caress feel sinfully erotic.
What a delightfully wicked man he is turning out to be.
She smiled at the thought, and she saw an answering spark in the narrowing of his
pale eyes and the twist of his lips into a wry smile. Julianna immediately pulled
back, breaking their contact. She was being a fool, encouraging him when she should
be trying to talk her way out of the situation. What on earth was wrong with her?
Despite appearances, she had never engaged in conversation, or anything else for that
matter, with a naked man. She was about to tell him as much when he spoke again.

“Do you know what I will do?” he asked conversationally, as he stepped back from her.
He smiled politely before turning and walking over to the bed. He leaned against the
bedpost, crossing his arms as he regarded her.

Julianna was having trouble thinking of anything except how much she missed his touch.
“I …” She paused to lick her lips, and his smile grew. “I have no idea, frankly. This
situation is beyond me.” Julianna could not imagine how she was going to get out of
this mess. She was so scared at the thought of being turned over to the authorities
that she could hardly think. She couldn’t reveal her identity. Doing so would create
a furor, producing a whole new set of problems for her. But how else was she going
to convince him of her innocence when she had his pearl in her pocket? She’d always
expected to come to a bad end—her father was a thief, after all, and she’d had no
mother to raise her.

At her honest and exasperated remark, Mr. Sharp laughed out loud. He was her adversary.
She had to remember that, if she hoped to get out of this situation unscathed.

He straightened and took a step toward her. “I’ll give you the pearl, my dear.”

Julianna’s mouth dropped open in astonishment. “What?”

“For one night in my bed. Tonight.”

*      *      *

When he had run his finger down her cheek, Alasdair had felt how fine her bone structure
was, with sharply defined cheekbones and a strong, square jaw, not to mention her
soft, smooth skin. Now a shaft of pale moonlight that had crept across the room revealed
her astonished expression. From her silence he assumed she was contemplating his offer.
She really was the most awful thief, unable to conceal anything in that guileless
face, the poor darling. A dark kerchief covered most of her hair, though some had
escaped to rest in wisps against her cheeks. She reminded him of someone, but he couldn’t
place her. He would figure it out in the morning, when there was more light.

Clearly she’d been reduced to trying to steal the pearl by the most desperate of circumstances.
God only knows what else she had needed to do to keep the wolf from her door. Such
a small thing to have so many burdens on her delicate shoulders. In the morning he
would make arrangements for her. After breakfast they would go shopping for clothes
and those fripperies that women loved so. And then he would call on his agent and
they’d find a nice little house for her, perhaps here in London, or someplace just
outside of the city. He was getting tired of the society here. It would be nice to
have a pleasant little house and his little thief there to keep him company at night.
She would never again have to sneak into a man’s bedchamber to commit larceny in order
to keep a roof over her head. Alasdair would see to that, even after they parted company.

“Well?” he prompted, pleased with his plans.

She frowned at him and he nearly laughed. She really was delightful. When a man went
to bed at night, he never knew what might await him the next time he climbed out of
it. He certainly hadn’t been prepared for her. When he’d first become aware of the
stranger sneaking around in his rooms, he’d expected to spend the better part of his
night dealing with the watchmen. What a marvelous surprise she was turning out to
be.

“I need a moment to think,” she snapped at him.

He raised his brows, a little surprised at her tone. “Well, that’s hardly flattering.”

In the weak moonlight he saw her delicate brows go up, mocking him. “Why? Did you
expect me to joyously throw myself against your manly chest at the first opportunity?
I am not that inexperienced, Mr. Sharp.”

Well, when she put it that way it was even less flattering, especially since that
was exactly what he had been thinking. “I do not doubt your experience, my dear. I
am simply offering to give you what you came here for.”

“I did not come here for
that
!”

The way she said “that” told Alasdair more than her words. Clearly she had never had
a pleasant experience in a man’s bed. He didn’t doubt that she’d been in one before.
But he was offering her so much more than one night. He wanted to pleasure her, to
hear her cry his name in ecstasy.
Yes, he always liked that part.
He smiled at the thought.

She frowned harder when she saw his smile. “And if I … lay with you tonight, will
you swear to give me the pearl in the morning?”

“If that is still what you want,” he answered, knowing full well she would have other
things on her mind by morning. He’d spent the better part of his wayward youth learning
to please a variety of lovers, and he knew this delightful little thief would get
more than she was bargaining for.

She shook her head firmly. “No. I want your word. If I … stay here tonight, with you,
I want your word that you will give me the pearl in the morning.”

He took a moment to study her. When he’d first heard her voice, he’d gotten the impression
of delicacy—an impression that was strengthened when he stood over her, touching her.
She seemed small, fragile, with big, luminous eyes, a small nose, and a wide, generous
mouth just made for love. Surely a mouth like that couldn’t lie. But he’d almost forgotten
that she was a thief. She had broken into his home with the intention of stealing
from him. No matter how guileless and innocent her face, she lacked moral character.
For some perverse reason, that made him want her all the more.

“I have said I will if that is what you desire.” He could see that his answer didn’t
satisfy her.

“Say it,” she demanded. “Say, ‘I will give you the pearl tomorrow morning after you
have lain with me tonight.’ Give me your word of honor.”

Ah, so the immoral little cat hoped to tangle him in his own honor, did she? Well,
he had no qualms about making promises to thieves in the night. “You have my word
of honor, my dear. I will give you the pearl in the morning after you have lain with
me tonight.” He knew the words were a lie even as he spoke them. But he also knew
that the money and gifts he would give her in the morning would more than make up
for it.

He took a step closer and saw her eyes widen. Her gaze seemed to be in constant motion,
as if she was too nervous to let it alight on any one part of his exposed person.
He found it charming regardless of whether it was true or a performance for his benefit.

“But you will do more than lie with me, my dear,” he whispered, noting with satisfaction
the shiver along her shoulders. She licked her lips again, and Alasdair went from
firm interest to hard desire as he followed the path of her tongue along the plump
folds of her lips, now wet and glistening in the moonlight. “I will make you cry tonight,
little thief. I will make you moan and beg and cry out with pleasure.” With each word
her eyes grew larger and more alarmed. “Now, are you still willing to make this bargain?”