Margaret Moore (15 page)

“I could always blow it out.”

“Yes.”

She still wasn’t afraid, or even anxious. She looked excited, even aroused, and she was breathing as hard as he.

Her obvious desire inflamed his passion. “What would you do if I did blow it out?” he whispered, his voice low and husky with yearning.

“I don’t know,” she confessed.

Intending to take her in his arms, he moved forward, until the flicker of the candle brought him to a halt.
God in heaven,
his rational mind shouted,
what are you doing? You were a Bankside thief and you have no more right to be here than to proclaim yourself king.
“This is wrong, Vivienne.” He raked his hand through his hair. “Being in your bedchamber is wrong, and being on your bed is worse.”

“You are here by my invitation.”

“That does not make it right.”

She cocked her head. “Will you presume to make my decisions for me, too?”

“I care about you, Vivienne, and it is because I do that I should go. I am only a man, and you entice me beyond all reason.”

“Are you a beast, Mr. Harding? Are you trying to tell me you have no more self-control than a dumb animal?”

“I hope I have more morality than an animal.”

“I believe you do, and therefore I see no reason we cannot conduct ourselves with propriety.”

“Vivienne, we are sitting on your bed with the curtains drawn.”

“For privacy. The king conducts state business in his bed. Why can we not have a conversation under similar circumstances?”

“The king does not conduct state business with a beautiful woman in his bed.”

“How do you know? Maybe he does. I gather Lady Castlemaine is forever interfering in the affairs of state.” Vivienne’s expression grew both serious and pleading. “Please, Rob, don’t run away. I am very tempted by you, too, you know, yet I am determined to know more about you. I want to talk to you without fear of interruption, and I can think of no other way to go about it.” She put her hand on the bed and pushed herself back. “I promise I shall sit over here, as long as you won’t leave.”

In truth, he didn’t want to go. He wanted to stay. But she was so very alluring, looking at him with her luminous blue eyes, her full lips parted, her low round bodice exposing the tops of her lovely creamy breasts.

He should go. Now. At once.

And yet … “Very well, I will stay, but I would rather we talked about you,” he said. “Your family, and how you came to live with your uncle, for instance.”

With a nod of her head, she agreed. “That is a simple enough tale,” she replied. “My parents died at nearly the same time, of the same fever. I lived, and was sent here as a temporary measure, I suppose, until a school or other place could be found for me. Then one day my uncle realized that he received more orders for his goods if I was seen in them and he let me stay.”

Although she spoke matter-of-factly, he heard the undercurrent of pain and sorrow beneath. She had been as lonely and unloved as he, and had known the bitter anguish of loss.

She gave him a wistful smile. “I realize that compared to your life, my past is not so bad. Mind you, my parents and I were not nearly so well off as my uncle. I once heard him say that his brother, my father, had no head for business, and I daresay he was right. Still, it could have been much worse, and I promise you, Rob, that I will never look at an urchin in the streets the same way again.”

“Your past is not as wonderful as I thought it must have been,” he admitted. “And mine was not all deprivation and sorrow. As you had your parents, I had Jack and Janet.”

“Who is Jack?”

“Janet’s brother. You saw him with me at the theater, I believe. He was the man with the patch I was speaking to.”

“Yes, I did see him. I confess, I tried not to look at you and couldn’t help myself. What happened to his eye?”

“Nothing. He doesn’t wear the patch because he has to. He claims women think it’s attractive.”

Vivienne giggled, and the lighthearted sound in the intimacy of their “tent” delighted him. “Attractive? Only if one has an affinity for pirates, I think.”

“Well, whatever you or I think, I must confess it does seem effective.” He sobered again. “I have sent Jack to watch Lord Cheddersby. If Sir Philip tries to harm him, Jack will call an alarm. I suspect that despite my warning, he would even interfere. Jack enjoys a good fight.”

“Did he ever fight you?”

“Often.”

“You won, didn’t you?”

He made a wry grin. “Not always. Jack can be very fierce.”

“Did you ever wear an eye patch to attract the ladies?”

“No. Women liked me well enough without it.”

He saw the merriment leave her eyes, and although he regretted that, a part of him insisted she must know this about him, too. “I have not lived a celibate life, Vivienne.”

“I didn’t suppose you had.”

Forgetting his resolution not to touch her, he reached out and took her warm hand in his as he looked into her eyes. “But after Janet left me, there has never been another woman I cared about in my life, not until I met you.”

Her expression serious, but her eyes dancing with delight, she waggled her finger in a warning gesture. “Have a care what you say, sir. I am trying to keep away from you.”

He nodded, for she was right. He should watch where his thoughts and words tended.

“So tell me, what else did you do when you were a boy? You could not have been stealing all the time.”

“Jack and Janet and I would spend hours sometimes floating twigs down the gutter, pretending they were ships sailing out to sea. Jack’s were always pirate vessels.”

“Perhaps that is why he has such an affinity for an eye patch,” Vivienne observed.

“That might very well explain it,” he replied with a low chuckle. “Janet’s was always a merchant vessel carrying rich fabrics and jewels.”

“And your ships, Rob? What were your ships carrying?”

He looked down at the damask coverlet. “Mine were passenger vessels, taking people to far-off lands to begin a new life.”

“I wish I could have seen you as a boy, Rob.”

“I am very glad you did not,” he replied with a rueful grin. “I was thin as any twig we set sail, and my nose ran all the time. Also, I was filthy. It took Mr. Godwin’s housekeeper an hour of scrubbing to get me clean, and it was weeks before we got all the dirt out from under my fingernails.”

Shifting forward, Vivienne lifted his hand and examined it, holding the candle close to her face. “I don’t see any dirt there now, just ink on your fingers.”

She turned his hand over so that she was looking at his palm. “You have nice hands, Rob.”

He couldn’t move. He couldn’t even pull his hand away, not then and not when she pressed a delicate kiss upon his palm.

“Vivienne,” he moaned softly, tearing his eyes away from her lips on his hand to look at the top of her head. “Vivienne, stop.”

She raised her questioning eyes.

Then she blew out the candle.

R
ob gasped.

“If the candle is burned too low,” Vivienne explained, “Owens will be suspicious.”

That was partly true. It was more true, though, that she found it difficult to see the pain flash across his face as he told her of his past, and keep away from him. Every ounce of her wanted to take him in her arms and hold him tight. She feared he might bolt like a startled horse if she did, and since she wanted him to stay, she wouldn’t risk it.

“I should not stay.”

“Rob—”

“Vivienne.” The featherbed shifted as he moved closer. “If I don’t leave you now,” he whispered huskily, “I will have to touch you. And if I touch you, I will want to kiss you, and if I kiss you, I won’t want to stop until I make love with you.”

She swallowed hard, feeling how close he was to her. “Perhaps I would not want you to stop,” she confessed in a small, small voice.

“Vivienne, you don’t understand what you are saying.”

She stiffened. “Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t,” he insisted. “I cannot deny that I want you with a passion I have never felt before, and I’m sure you think you feel the same for me. But passion can be fleeting. And …”

“And?” she prompted, wishing she had not blown out the candle, Owens or no Owens, so that she could see his expression.

“And I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

“You would protect me from myself?”

“Yes.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to chide him for treating her like a child—until she realized that she would be criticizing him for the very thing she had admired him for earlier. He helped and protected people. Wouldn’t it be wise to listen to him, especially when she wanted him not for a night, but for the rest of her life?

Nevertheless, she wasn’t about to surrender completely, not in this. “I’ll agree on one condition.”

“A condition?” he said, obviously surprised.

“That you will come back tomorrow night.” She inched forward, until their knees touched. “I want to know you, Rob, and I want you to know me. Please tell me you’ll come back tomorrow. I promise I shall not kiss you if you do.”

“Oh, Vivienne,” he said with a sigh.

“Rob, I am a very stubborn woman, and I suppose you should know that about me, too, unattractive though it may be. I will acquiesce to your concern about my lack of willpower—”

“I meant no criticism.”

“What else was it? But I do not blame you. I confess that I may not be thinking with a clear head where you are concerned. Therefore, to prove to you that I am not a fool, I will let you leave without so much as a kiss—but only if you promise me you will come back tomorrow. How else can we discover if there is more between us than lust, and since I can see no other way to be alone, what else can we do?”

“You argue like a lawyer,” he muttered.

“Thank you.”

“Vivienne, you said you were clay in my hands. I fear I am clay in yours, because I cannot refuse.”

“Good.”

She rose and parted the curtains, and as she did so, a shaft of pale moonlight illuminated him.

Sitting on her bed, his open shirt white against his skin, his long legs tucked beneath him, his gaze focused on her and her alone, his mouth parted as if in hopes of her kiss, he looked like some kind of specter from another world sent in answer to her prayers for the perfect man to love.

She exhaled slowly as he stood and came toward her, his gaze so intense, she felt as if they were the only two people in London, or perhaps even the world.

Then, as if reading her mind and her heart, and despite his own words, he cradled her head in his lean, strong fingers and pulled her to him. His mouth captured hers in a long, luxurious kiss as if they had all the time in the world.

She clung to him, wrapping her arms about him, demanding with her lips and her hands that he stay and never, ever go.

He broke away. “Oh, God save me, Vivienne, I cannot help myself. I dare not come here again. The temptation is too great.”

“I don’t think—”

He put his finger against her lips. “You must. We are both in the throes of a passion that I fear is stronger than either of us, and so risky and dangerous. We must try to be reasonable.”

“I don’t want to be reasonable. I’faith, I fear I cannot be reasonable where you are concerned. My heart demands otherwise.”

He cocked his head and regarded her as studiously as he might a complicated will. “You judge in haste, Mistress Burroughs, for you have not heard what I consider reasonable at this point in time.”

“You are not going to try to tell me we mustn’t see each other ever again?” she asked hopefully, for there was a hint of amusement in his deep voice.

“In view of the present circumstances, and,” he continued, his voice lowering to an intimate whisper, “the feelings I cannot master, no matter how hard I try, I think it would be unreasonable to attempt to deny myself the pleasure of your company. I doubt I would be able to maintain that resolution.”

“I am glad you’re being sensible.”

“Well, sensible about my irrationality, I suppose,” he agreed.

“When and how can I see you?”

He frowned. “That I do not know.” And then, to her great joy, his wonderful lips curved up into a smile. “But I do know this: If there is a way, I will find it.”

“Or perhaps I can think of something.”

“That is a distinct possibility, my clever Vivienne.”

No compliment on her form or beauty had ever delighted her as much as him calling her clever.

“So, I will not bid you good-bye,” he continued as he sat upon her windowsill and swung his legs outside. “But only adieu.”

“Adieu, my love,” she whispered, wrapping her arms about her as he smiled once more before dropping down onto the stable roof.

She hurried to the window and watched as he cautiously, with a catlike stealth, crept across the roof, then dropped from sight.

“So there I was, nearly falling out of the box, and if Neville hadn’t grabbed the back of my jacket, I would have plunged to my death—right at the climax, too,” Lord Cheddersby declared as he walked beside Vivienne in St. James’s Park three days later.

He had come to visit and asked Uncle Elias if he could escort her for a walk about the park. Uncle Elias had readily agreed, not asking Vivienne how she felt about it. However, even if he had, she didn’t think she could have refused on the grounds that she was hoping Mr. Harding might stop by.

So now here she was, ambling about St. James’s Park supposedly listening to Lord Cheddersby talk about his friends, Owens dutifully trailing behind, yet all the while wondering if Rob had come to her uncle’s, only to find her absent. Perhaps he would use the marriage negotiations as an excuse. It would not be the best way to meet, as experience had shown, but it had been three days, and she was beginning to fear he might not be able to find another way.

She did not doubt that he wanted to see her. He had made that very clear when they parted before. She only feared that he would try to ensure as little risk as possible. Although she could not fault him for that, it was likely that there must be some risk—not that she feared taking a risk, if being with him was the prize.