Dangerous Seduction: A Nemesis Unlimited Novel (15 page)

With the butter all unpacked, Simon hefted his empty satchel.

“We’re going to have to tell them,” she said under her breath.

He frowned. “That we’ve stolen from them?”

“Not the managers. The women of the village. They’ve gone without fresh butter for over a week. They need to know it’s here.”

His expression turned doubtful. “The new machinist showing up at their doors in the middle of the night—I’d be turned in to the constabulary before I got a word out.”

She smiled at him. “That’s why I’m coming with you.”

*   *   *

It wasn’t the fastest process, and they couldn’t visit every household in Trewyn, but they made slow, steady progress, all the while steering clear of the patrolman.

Alyce and Simon approached another home, careful to keep to the shadows. Amazing how she’d learned the skill so quickly in the course of a night. But now she felt almost as comfortable in the darkness as she did with a bucking iron in her hands.

Stories about Nemesis had trickled into the village. Some of the younger lads had fled without a single penny to London, walking or hopping trains to get there. And once they did, they slept on the street and sought work as navvies digging trenches, or whatever jobs they could scrape together. And some of those lads wrote home, telling of their adventures, and passing along rumors of Nemesis. In a few of those letters, Nemesis was described as a benevolent, charitable organization, not unlike the Salvation Army. But other letters told very different tales: Nemesis was a gang of dangerous vigilantes, patrolling the London streets with cudgels and brass knuckles, waiting for any chance to start a brawl.

Now she knew—Nemesis was something else entirely. They stole, lied, ruthlessly used cunning and guile. All to get what they wanted: justice. Glancing at Simon, who moved with rangy muscularity, she didn’t doubt the operatives of Nemesis could go toe-to-toe, if the situation demanded it. Would tonight find them in one of those situations?

She scratched on the door. None of the homes were big, and they were all rickety as a bundle of reeds. A knock on the door at this hour and in such small dwellings would sound like a battering ram. People moved around inside, whispering, muttering, pulling on dressing gowns or shawls.

As they waited, Alyce studied Simon. He kept watch on the street, his gaze never at rest, his long body primed and ready. Though she couldn’t be sure,
this
seemed like the true Simon: a man of strength and energy, fiercely intelligent, ruthless. Then he winked at her—damn him for being so sodding handsome—and against her will, she felt her insides heat. His charm seemed the most dangerous thing about him. At least she could protect herself against his lies, his physical capability. But her defenses against his allure kept sifting away, bit by bit, as if breaking ore down to tiny granules.

At last, the door opened, and both Lester and Joan Willis appeared in the doorway. Joan clutched a shawl around her thin shoulders, and Lester’s hairy calves and feet appeared beneath the hem of his nightshirt. Farther back in the dimly lit cottage, several children of different ages strained to see who their late-night visitors were. While the wife wore a look of worry, Lester appeared suspicious, hostile, particularly when he stared at Simon.

Simon only gave the man a small nod, the look on his own face giving away nothing.

“Something wrong at the mine?” Joan demanded, her voice thin. “Flood? Collapse?”

“It’s all right, Joan,” Alyce whispered. “But you need to get to the company store tomorrow and buy butter.”

Both husband and wife looked baffled. “The butter’s all spoiled,” Joan said.

“Not anymore, it isn’t,” Simon noted. His accent had gone back to being the machinist from Sheffield—making Alyce’s head spin again. How many different selves did he have? How could he keep track of them all? She’d be certain to make a mistake.

Was it a quality to be admired, the way he could shift like clouds across the moon? She needed to be especially careful around him.

“The managers and that thieving bastard Hartley finally listened,” Lester said. “Got rid of the bad stuff.”

Alyce shook her head. “Not exactly. But let’s say they
provided
the fresh butter.”

Joan and Lester’s eyes widened. “How—?”

Simon cut them off. “Better if you don’t know too much about it.”

Lester winked, tapping the side of his nose with his finger. “Right you are, lad.”

They had a lot more homes to visit, and the hours were growing smaller, heading closer to dawn. “Have a good sleep,” Alyce said, “and make sure you get to the store tomorrow.”

With that, she and Simon left the Willis home, and continued their task. It took hours. Sometimes the people were hostile, but most beamed their appreciation. Drippings were a poor substitute for butter, and she’d heard from more than a few women at the mine about their children growing haggard, desperately missing that important bit of fat in their diets.

All the while as they worked, Simon’s gaze kept returning to her, lingering longer. Turning … hungrier. But he said nothing. Made no move to touch her.

“We’re skipping Dyer, Gundry, and Poole,” Simon murmured as they continued their progress.

“Because they’re snitches.” Alyce shouldn’t have been impressed that he’d been able to figure that out, when some of the miners themselves didn’t even know. But not much seemed to slip past Simon’s cutting awareness. “A shame, though, since Gundry and Poole have wives and children.”

“Can’t take the risk that they’ll go squeal.”

She nodded. It was unfortunate, but the men had made their choice to spy on their fellow miners in exchange for some extra chit. The consequence was theirs to shoulder.

As she and Simon skirted the edges of the village, heading back toward her home, the morning birds were already beginning to sing from the privets. She sighed. “Not everyone is going to get to the butter in time. It’ll be sold out.”

“Then it’ll ensure there’s no excuse not to reorder.”

She slanted him a look. “Thought this out, haven’t you?”

One corner of his mouth lifted. “Jobs are like chess matches—no, they’re like wars. Every battle’s got to be planned. You can’t go running into the field, shooting your Martini-Henry at anything that moves. Either you’ll waste bullets or wind up hurting an ally. This way, we know we’re getting results.”

“We did get results, didn’t we?” The thought made her grin. In just one night, she and Simon had been able to accomplish something that nearly two weeks of complaints and accusations hadn’t. An odd feeling rose in her chest, a lightness that made the graying sky and familiar hills almost beautiful. It took her several moments to understand the feeling—happiness, maybe. Satisfaction. A problem had been solved, and she and Simon had been the ones to solve it. So often, she found herself running up against a granite wall, gaining only a headache and frustration in the process. But not tonight.

“And we worked well together,” he added, almost thoughtful.

“Sounds like you weren’t certain I could help you.” She tried not to be put out when he didn’t immediately deny it.

“I always knew you could help me, somehow. That’s why I kept close to you when I first got here. But we were both unknown quantities,” he said. “When I left your house earlier tonight, you didn’t think you could trust me.”

Never one for mitigating her words, she answered, “No, I didn’t.”

The unspoken question hung in the chilly air. Did she now?

They finally reached the lane that led to her home. Morning approached, with ashen light lining the hilltops to the east. In less than an hour, people would rise from their beds and ready themselves for another long day at the bottom of a pit or smashing stones with picks and hammers. She ought to feel tired, having gotten no sleep, and the evening full of danger that had made her heart pound. But instead, she felt that lightness again, that sensation she could accomplish anything, right any wrong.

A little burglary and all of a sudden I’m Robin Bleeding Hood.

Stopping at the entrance to the lane, she turned to Simon. To make certain that they couldn’t be overheard by an early riser or a passing patrolman, she stepped close to him. There was no denying the caution in his gaze. Or the heat coming from his body. She still hadn’t said whether she trusted him or not, and her answer was important. For more than just the mission.

“What next?” she asked. The implication being,
Yes, in this, I trust you.

His expression eased slightly. “Got a plan in mind. It won’t come readily, though. I’ll need the backing and cooperation of the miners.”

“That’ll take some doing.”

“You’re a stubborn lot,” he said with a wry smile. “I’ll give you that.”

She did her best to keep her chuckle quiet. “Cornishmen and Cornishwomen can be downright mule-headed.”

“And that’s a compliment?” He shortened the distance between them, until only a few inches separated their bodies.

The heat of him soaked into her, or was it the intensity of his gaze? Though the sun hadn’t yet risen, she could’ve sworn his eyes gleamed bright as aquamarines. Her pulse, which had been kept at a rapid clip all night, suddenly beat even faster. Throughout the evening’s adventure, she’d been aware of him, the leashed strength of his lean body, how he moved with such precision and confidence. Like no other man she’d met. Up until now, she’d told herself she hadn’t noticed, not really. But she had.

“Oh, aye,” she said, abruptly breathless.

He inhaled sharply. “I’ve held myself back all night—for sake of the job.” His voice was a low rumble. “Tonight’s maneuvers are over. Leaves me free to finally do this.”

He brought his hands up, but slowly. Giving her a chance to move away or push him back. Yet she didn’t. She let his large hands cup the back of her head. Her own hands stayed at her sides, testing him.

Either he tipped her head up, or she tilted it back. She couldn’t quite tell. But then he lowered his head, and his mouth found hers.

His lips were soft, nimble. They brushed back and forth across her own lips, learning the feel of her and letting her learn him. Then he seemed to want more than this gentle exploration, the kiss deepening, both of their mouths opening to feel each other’s warmth and slickness. His flavor was rich, dizzying. It wasn’t an uncertain kiss. Yet she could feel how he held himself at bay. Was it for her sake, or his?

She wasn’t a delicate puff of milkweed. His kiss roused needs in her, needs that, for her own protection, had been kept buried beneath piles of granite. But as dawn edged closer, and the night’s events still swirled around her, and she was here, with
this
man, she couldn’t shut the gates around her desire. She wanted to break free.

She touched her tongue to his. His control seemed to snap.

Groaning, he moved one of his hands to the small of her back and pulled her closer. His mouth grew more demanding. She met his need, fed off it. Her fingers dug into the hard round shapes of his shoulders, the flesh barely yielding beneath her grip. Her breasts pressed into the rigid wall of his chest.

He was just a little rough as he kissed her, held her, and it felt so incredibly
right.
The other kisses she’d shared had been nothing more than boys’ tentative fumblings. Maybe a little bit of pleasure, but nothing like this. Simon was a man. He kissed like one. And her whole body stirred to life, a burst of electricity cascading through her. She wanted more.

Damn, he
is
dangerous.

He broke the kiss with a muttered oath. Took a step back. And then another. He raked his hand through his hair. His chest rose and fell on fast breaths. But he didn’t turn his back on her.

For a moment, they stared at each other. Her hands slowly drifted back down to her sides, and she blinked, as if waking. Sure enough, her head felt thick and cloudy, as if she’d been dreaming moments before. But no, she’d been wide awake. The sensation humming through her body told her so.

“We’re not…” His words were raspy, and he cleared his throat. “Getting involved with someone who’s integral to a mission isn’t wise.”

“Those the official rules of Nemesis?”

“No official rules. But we all know an assignment takes precedence.” Still, his voice was gravelly, and his breathing had barely slowed. “This next step can’t happen without your help. It’s got to be planned and executed carefully.”

“It isn’t planned or careful, kissing me witless.”

He exhaled roughly. “You make me lose my head, Alyce. Can’t let that happen.”

Maybe she shouldn’t feel flattered. Maybe he flung out compliments like that all the time. Yet his words had been plain, open in their admission of desire, and that filled her with a new heat and weightlessness.

He was right. There was work to be done, work that she’d wanted carried out all of her adult life. She wasn’t going to ruin that because of vivid blue eyes, sharp wit, or kisses hot enough to melt ore. Besides, she still didn’t know him. Not truly. It would be easy to be reckless around him, and she needed to protect herself. Protect her family and her village. She couldn’t do that if she was mooning after Simon, hoping for another kiss. Or something more.

“Deal,” she said. “No more of this.” She waved at the space between them, that still seemed to shimmer with the heat they’d created.

“No more.” It sounded like real regret in his voice.

It felt ridiculous to shake on it. Instead, she pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “I’d best be getting back. The whole village will be rubbing sleep from their eyes soon.”

“No sleep for us, but a full day’s work ahead.”

She couldn’t stop her smile. “I don’t regret the sleeplessness. Not a jot. Can’t think when I’ve had a better night.”

He raised a skeptical brow. “Following me, breaking into the masters’ house to steal butter, then spreading the news through the village? That’s your best night?”

She shrugged. “Life is very, very quiet in Trewyn.” But then she grew serious. “I’m not daft, Simon. I made a difference tonight.
We
did. Nothing’s better than that.” She couldn’t help adding, “The kiss was a nice little side benefit, too.” A benefit she wouldn’t experience again, but for good reasons.