Rough Surrender (21 page)

“Am I?” He released his grip on her forearm. “I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you.” For once her concern was for him. Though that pleased him, the cause did not. “What pet did he mean, sir?”

He could have lied...except the intelligence in her eyes told him she’d guessed. “You. He thinks you are some fleeting amusement. You are not.”

They’d walked several feet through the crowd before she replied. “Thank you. I’m glad I’m not a pet, or a fleeting amusement, though really you are not going to get away without explaining what the
game
is, sir.” Then she turned a thin-lipped smile on him and whispered, “No matter how many orgasms you give me.”

Her candor made him regard her with great curiosity. What sort of woman was this? Sometimes he did wonder if she’d prove too much of a handful. Until he recalled all that she’d let him do, and that only made his imagination run wild with the possibilities for the future.

Something out of doors should be next on his agenda. Yes.

“What are you two up to?” The sotto voce secret tone to the question might have been alarming–except he recognized Jeremy’s voice instantly.

“Good day, Jeremy.” He and Faith turned as one. “My goodness.”

The man was dressed in one of his best dark suits and bowler hat, with a red rose bud peeking from a pocket. For once even his hair had been tamed.

“What?” Jeremy stared down at himself. “What? Too spiffy for you? It’s Mrs. Willoughby. She’s having a dreadful influence on me.”

“You’re adorable.” He smiled. Maybe he should have gifted him with a chaperone earlier.

Faith half-raised her borrowed umbrella. “Mrs. Willoughby? Whatever are you doing with her? Did you–” She frowned up. “You didn’t? Leonhardt!”

“You prefer to have her following us about? I recall you telling me she’d appointed herself and thought to keep her occupied.”

Her mouth twitched as if she had thoughts but wasn’t courageous enough to voice them. Well, he’d found another of Faith’s weaknesses–chaperones.

“Uh.” Jeremy looked from him to Faith and back. “I see. I don’t mind though, really. She’s quite the student of Egyptology and nobody dares steal anything when she’s near. I’ve had her and two other ladies out looking at one of the digs. Look, I must be off and find where she’s gone. You two have a wonderful day, except, Faith, don’t let him get his own way too often.” He met Leonhardt’s eyes and, for once, Jeremy’s face stilled and an edge of seriousness crept in. “And you, don’t forget she’s my friend too. I want her in one piece when she’s done with you.”

Now that was going a little too far.

“You doubt me?”

Jeremy twirled the flower bud with one finger. “Doubt you, old boy? I know you. Take care...both of you.”

The sentiments might have alarmed many women but when he checked with Faith, looking down at her, she only gave him a small smile.

She tipped her head. The light gray-blue of her irises entranced him. “I know you a little too now. Don’t worry. I trust you.”

Simple words and they meant so much. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips. “Thank you.”

By the end of the day he’d had more than his fill of buzzing airplanes, and even Faith looked to be tired of the mad crowd that seemed obsessed with everything to do with aviation. With the storm still loitering at the horizon, they decided to leave before it hit the aerodrome.

On the way past the flamboyant emerald-and-gold silk pavilion of the prince, he spotted Hasim Massri standing at the entrance, hand in pocket and sipping champagne. Tall, with tight, red-brown curls, dusky complexion and an open face that seemed ever cheerful, Hasim attracted women like butterflies to a bouquet of flowers. That his tastes mirrored Leonhardt’s generally sent them running the other way eventually but somehow hadn’t stopped Hasim having numerous elusive and low-key affairs.

The brilliance of his smile when he was introduced to Faith, didn’t escape Leonhardt. He wasn’t concerned–Hasim had to be the most sensible and well-balanced man of all his friends.

“Could I ask you to see what you can find out about this, Hasim?” He handed over the business card Smythe had given him. “In particular about the person he’s indicated on there?”

Though he too worked for the company, Hasim had connections high up in both the British and the Egyptian upper classes–some said as far as the prince. Who better to entrust Mr. Smythe’s card to? That his brother was an inspector in the police force might also help. The information inscribed there needed investigating and fast. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice.

Unbroken
. Out of all the words in the message that one had stood out. Whoever this woman, Beth, might be, he would not leave her at Smythe’s mercy.

“Of course, Leonhardt.” Hasim examined the card for a moment, tucked it away then raised his champagne flute. “Is tomorrow soon enough?”

“That would be good.” He looked the man in the eyes. “From what I know of Smythe, I’d be indebted if you’d leave it no later.”

Though Faith looked puzzled, she added nothing, for which Leonhardt was grateful. Explaining how he knew Smythe was not something he wished to do.

Hasim nodded and appeared preoccupied, staring blindly at the ground for a few seconds. Then the darkness on his face cleared and a smile crept upon his lips. “Faith Evard! Of course!”

She blinked as if startled and her little turban hat jiggled. “Yes?”

“I remember now–you’re on the pilot list.”

“True. Currently I have no functioning airplane, however.” Her mouth twisted. “I should perhaps stick to car racing and then Mr. Meisner”–she shot him a petite glare–“wouldn’t be so determined to discourage me.”

“Ah, yes, that’s Leonhardt.” Hasim chuckled. “A stickler for engineering everything down to the last bolt and screw. Thinks airplanes are the progeny of Satan. Perhaps we could discuss automobile racing on some later occasion. However, I must go back in now.” Hasim bent over Faith’s offered hand and kissed it. “
Enchante
, Miss Evard.”

It piqued Leonhardt’s interest when Faith blushed and looked momentarily off balance. It was enough to give him ideas.

“Hasim, what about you come to dinner tonight? Seven? Miss Evard will be there.”

“Truly? Consider it done. Seven sounds excellent.” He gave Faith a disarming wink and ambled back inside.

“Am I coming to dinner then, Mr. Meisner? What if I say, no, sir?” A challenge possessed her gray eyes.

“You won’t, for I aim to ensure it will be a night to remember” He smiled back, delighted at the way that made her hush and how her hand gripped her parasol ever so tightly...and at the slight widening of her nostrils.

He mulled over the recent events with Smythe. Nothing like an encounter with pure evil to crystallize thoughts. He made a decision he’d wanted to finalize since the first night he had spent with Faith, sent a runner off with instructions for Mawson, then made sure to take a meandering route to the aerodrome’s entrance. As they walked toward the Thomas Flyer, he announced his decision.

“You’re coming home with me, for the rest of the week.” Then he ignored the way she gaped at him, with her eyes lighting up with alarm, and went to crank the engine. Mawson was already off by taxicab to warn the cook of Faith and Hasim’s presence at dinner, and to arrange for the hotel to send on her luggage.

The high-pitched scream of a horse alerted him. Attached to a hansom cab, it had been spooked by something and was rearing. Though the driver dragged on the reins and made calming sounds, seconds later the horse, with the cab bouncing behind, made a frantic gallop for the open road.

“Faith!” He scooped her up and flung her up onto the bonnet of the automobile then leaped and made it up there himself with a second to spare. The frantic steed shot past and careened clattering onto the road, froth spilling from its mouth.

“Heavens, that was a near thing. Thank you, Mr. Meisner.” She made as if to get down but he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her close.

“Stay a little longer.” The steed had been caught by two men but its ears were back and eyes rolled in fear. Under his thighs, the engine grumbled and shook the metal of the bonnet. Leonhardt tightened his hold on Faith. “You smell nice, Faith, even after a day trudging about. However do you manage that?”

The side of her neck tempted him and he considered nibbling, but didn’t, then noticed the flush creeping across her cheeks and the small wriggle of her bottom. “Am I affecting you that much? You are a little red.”

“It’s, ah–em, the engine.” She flung a desperate glance at him. “The shaking is doing things to me. It’s somewhat arousing. I should get down now, sir, before I disgrace myself.”

“My goodness. As an engineer the possibilities seem intriguing.” To keep himself from grinning widely was near impossible. He tried, though.

By the time he’d helped her down and into the front passenger seat, then gone around and slipped into the driver’s seat, she’d recovered and had a tight-lipped question for him. “Why do you expect me to stay with you? Why, sir? Surely it would be scandalous for me to live with you so blatantly?”

How to explain? She’d want facts and for once he was working on supposition and a vague sense of danger.

“Smythe is one of the most unconscionable men I’ve ever known. With the murder and him in Cairo, I want you near me, safe.” He shifted in his seat and studied her.

“So...you think he’s connected to the murder somehow.”

He didn’t hesitate–he wasn’t going to lie about this. “There’s no evidence to support that. However, I’ll be disappointed if you don’t stay with me and it really will worry me.”

Seated a bare few feet away, she said nothing more but the tiny line creasing between her eyebrows told him she was considering the implications.

Scandal? She’d be gone from Cairo after this anyway...or installed in his house and bed, married or not. There were ways around scandal if one were discreet and didn’t flaunt such things. He knew which option he preferred, though he wasn’t sure how long such an arrangement would last. Marriage. The decision had been there in his heart for some time like a boulder wedged there. No matter which way he considered Faith and all her complexities that was where he ended up. He’d never been so sure of anything. Whenever she questioned his decisions he itched to make her comply. Didn’t she know he had her best interests at heart? If only she would listen to him outside the bedroom as well as she did inside it. Would marriage change that?

For a few seconds, among her concern and confusion, Faith looked at him as a woman looked at her lover in the darkness of the night, and raised his blood temperature by several degrees.

“Very well, Mr. Meisner, I will stay at your house.”

“Good. Thank you.”

He caressed the line of her jaw and curled a lock of loose hair around her ear. Her expression softened and she tilted her head to rest her cheek against his palm. How right she looked, with his hand at her neck. Vulnerability and beauty, all wrapped up in a package along with way too much orneriness.

His thoughts strayed, darkened. What Smythe had done in the past, let alone what he
might
do in the future was enough to cool his blood.

Chapter 23

By the time she’d dressed, bathed and was ready for the evening meal, Hasim had arrived at the house. Instead of having the evening meal in the dining room, Mr. Meisner escorted her to the rooftop. An awning of striped canvas shielded half the area from the sun’s and the moon’s rays. Pots of small date palms and shrubs were strewn about the periphery and arranged in meandering aisles. Underneath the edge of the awning, four low divans were set around a knee-high table, so that depending on which divan she sat on, she could stare up at the star-specked sky, or hide under the awning. The stars drew Faith, and she sat on a divan beneath the sky.

The Poiret celebration at Baron Empain’s had emboldened her and she’d chosen to wear her one ensemble of violet-hued harem pants and kimono-style top, which left her arms uncovered except for bead-fastened gauze. And, of course, she wore no corset. The lack of anything restricting her torso made her feel light as a feather–or like dancing as the other woman had avowed.

Hasim had been looking out over the parapet’s edge and came over to welcome her. Leonhardt sprawled out on the divan next to her. To her surprise, Hasim declared a mutual love of star gazing and sat on her other side.

With an imposing and overbearing man to either side of her. Faith felt like the middle of a sandwich–a spicy, oversauced, hot sandwich. Perhaps she’d chosen the wrong clothes for this occasion.

“Don’t be nervous, Faith. I promise not to eat you.” Hasim picked up a knife and fork, toyed with them and pretended to sharpen one against the other. “Though come to think of it, your arm does look delicious.” He flashed her a grin.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head.
Men
.

Hasim tapped his fork against his crockery plate
tink tink tink
then straightened. His brow wore a frown. “I don’t want to spoil the meal so perhaps I should say this now, before we start. Have you heard the news about the murder? Or should I say murders?”