Temptations of Anna Jacobs (7 page)

Now they were safely enclosed in his home, and he’d taken a seat to prevent himself from getting too near her. “To what do I owe the pleasure, then?”

She sat straight, her gloved hands resting on her knees. The toes of her boots peeked out beneath the skirts of her practical wool gown. “I have been going over my notes, comparing them with the official reports, and I’ve come to a conclusion that I wanted to discuss with you.”

“Excellent.” Drew was surprised by her visit, pleasantly so, he realized. There was nothing about Anna Jacobs he should find alluring. She was not at all the sort of woman he was normally interested in. First of all, she was a lady, and he had no use for the proper things in life. He was a bastard, after all, and there was no accounting for that when it came to finding a woman. Still he found her intriguing. And he liked her figure. He couldn’t deny the attraction; he was captivated by the way her curves filled out her dress. And then there was the unexpected urge to kiss her that he’d had just now.

She was a plump little thing, with delicious curves in all the right places. He knew she’d be soft and lovely, too, but this was not why she’d come, and he had to shake himself to rid his mind of the sudden thoughts. He crossed one leg over his knee and leaned back in his chair.

“So this theory of yours?” he asked.

She intertwined her fingers, clasping her hands together, but he couldn’t help but notice how she still managed to fidget with the fabric of her skirts using her thumb and forefinger. “Yes, well, I went back through all the notes I had made of the victim and compared them to the notes Simon had of the previous victims and, well, much of the evidence would indicate the killer has changed weapons.”

A notion he had not been expecting. Perhaps because he himself hadn’t considered it, but also perhaps because he hadn’t realized she could make such a theory based on the evidence she had. He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees as she explained to him the measurements of the cuts, the depth, and the type of cut each blade inflicted.

“The wounds look different,” she said. “Now, granted, there are some discrepancies in the wounds of the other victims as well, but this one is quite obviously distinctive. My conclusion is the killer used a weapon he has not used before.”

“There is something else which could potentially explain these discrepancies,” he said. “Would an injury of his own perhaps weaken his arm and make his cuts different?”

She looked up at him, and he watched the play of emotions work their way across her features. First her eyes widened slightly, then narrowed. She chewed at her lip, frowned, tilted her head. “What sort of injury?”

“He was shot.”

“Jack the Ripper was shot?” She sat forward, nearly coming to her feet. “When?”

So evidently Simon hadn’t shared that particular bit of information with her. “About two months ago. The Ripper came after my sister-in-law. Well, she and Alex weren’t married at the time”—he waved his hand dismissively—“but that’s neither here nor there. In any case, she injured him.”

“Who is your sister-in-law?” Anna asked.

“Mia Danvers.”

“Oh, that is right, the blind girl. I read about your brother’s nuptials in the newspaper, though for whatever reason I hadn’t made the connection.”

“I don’t use the Carrington name in any capacity,” Drew said. “My father and I did not get on well.” Though that certainly didn’t begin to scratch the surface of his problems with his family.

“What made the Ripper go after Mia?” She could not imagine the horror of being sightless and attacked so viciously.

He saw a softening in her eyes, and something less than professional infused them. Sympathy. Anna could be the cold, analytical professional when need be, but she was a sympathetic woman underneath it all.

It made Drew trust Simon even more to know that while the man had shared some facts of the investigation with this sister, he had protected Mia, which Drew knew would please Alex to a great degree. His brother still employed extra staff to guard their house and keep her protected at all times should the bastard come back to find her. He certainly knew who she was—he’d once left her a note.

“This cannot leave this room,” Drew began.

Anna nodded. “I am quite discreet and certainly know the importance of secrecy with official investigations.”

“Mia witnessed the murder of the first victim in Mayfair.”

“The one on your family’s property?”

“Precisely. Eventually the Ripper discovered this fact and came after her.”

Anna frowned. “How would he ever find out such a thing?”

Damnation
. Drew longed to forget precisely how the Ripper had discovered Mia’s connection, but it would seem the truth would continue to rear its ugly head. Drew inhaled deeply, rubbed a hand down his face. “I told him.”

“What?”

“Inadvertently, of course. I had no idea who he was or even that he was listening to me. I was speaking to some friends.” He took a deep breath. “I was inebriated.” He’d been expecting Anna to cease looking at him as if he were some sort of hero. This should certainly do that.

Her lips pinched together and she nodded slowly. “I suppose it couldn’t have been helped then.”

He suspected she realized there was more to his story, but she didn’t push, and for that, he was grateful.

“So, back to my original question: could such an injury cause the wounds on the victim to look different?” he asked.

“Of course. Where is his injury? Where did she shoot him?”

“No one knows. He escaped. The only thing we know for certain is that Mia fired a shot and there was blood on the floor where he’d been and again at the window where he escaped. They tried to follow the trail, but it was dark and they found nothing.”

She shook her head. “There’s no possible way for me to know if said injury would affect the use of a knife without knowing the precise details of the injury in question. If he were shot in the leg, it’s not going to affect how he wields a knife.”

“Obviously.”

She was quiet for several moments. He watched her face as she considered all the possibilities. Even now, the taste of her lips stayed with him, and he wanted more. More of her kisses, more of her smiles. Simply more of Anna.

Perhaps she had other thoughts that could explain the differences in the injuries, or the use of an alternate weapon.

“Why did you kiss me? The other day?” she asked.

Drew felt his brows rise in surprise. “Is that what you were thinking about? I suspected your thoughts were more academic in nature.”

She shrugged. “Academic or not, I am still a woman.”

“It seemed the thing to do,” Drew said with a shrug of his own.

“‘It seemed the thing to do,’” she said, mocking his tone. She frowned. “That’s not a very good answer.”

He resisted the urge to smile. Hell, he didn’t know why he’d kissed her. Because the desire to do so had been so overwhelming he hadn’t been able to resist her lips. In fact, he longed to embrace her again, right now. “What would be a good answer?”

“How the devil should I know?” Her hand fluttered to her chest. “I don’t go around kissing unsuspecting people.”

“Fair enough. Well then, I kissed you because I wanted to.” Perhaps honesty would appease her curiosity. “Because your mouth is tempting, even though you talk far too much.”

“That doesn’t even make any sense. Well, the bit about my talking too much, I admit I can be verbose—”

“You’re doing it again,” he interrupted her. He leaned forward, toward her chair. “Only makes me want to kiss you again.”

She waved her hand. “That’s ridiculous.”

“The mere notion of kissing you? Hasn’t any man ever expressed a similar interest?”

A blush stained her exposed throat, marring her lovely creamy skin. Her hand followed the telltale sign of her embarrassment and she fiddled with the necklace around her throat. She swallowed visibly. “I don’t see how that is any of your business. I’m not even certain how we got on this discussion,” she said.

“
You
asked me why I kissed you.”

“Yes, and your answer is unsatisfactory. I shall merely have to conclude that you men are a peculiar lot.” She pointed at him.

“I’m going to kiss you again, Annabelle,” he said softly.

Her mouth opened, then slowly closed. “Right now?”

“Would you like me to kiss you right now?”

“I cannot answer that.” She shook her head fervently. “It would be utterly improper.”

“You, a lady going to medical school and assisting me with an undercover investigation of a murder? Last night we broke into a government building. Your behavior hasn’t exactly been the pinnacle of propriety.”

Her brow furrowed. “That is quite different.” Her tongue darted out and wet her lips.

He felt a stab of desire, hot and poignant in his gut. Oh yes. He wanted her. Whatever the reason, logical or not, he wanted her quite badly. Too badly, in fact, for him to kiss her now when his passions were so close to the surface. It was entirely too likely they would not be interrupted, that no one would come along and stop him from ruining her here in his parlor.

“You already answered my question,” he said.

She frowned. “I don’t believe I did.”

“Oh yes, Anna, you want me to kiss you very badly. Now that I know that, I’m going to make you wait. For a little longer.”

“You are an insufferable man!” she said as she came to her feet. “Consider my theory about an alternate weapon, and we can meet again to discuss the possibilities when you aren’t so . . .” She waved her hand at him. “So . . . however one should describe this behavior of yours.”

He stood and stepped over to her. “You’re rather adorable when you’re indignant.” He stepped even closer, removing almost all of the distance between them, all but a breath’s worth.

Her eyes dilated and her breathing came out in rapid little puffs. Again her hand came to the chain at her throat. Whatever pendant rested on that necklace dipped lower, into the bodice of her dress. Someday he’d follow that particular piece of jewelry.

He leaned in as if to kiss her and she sucked in her breath, her eyes fluttering closed. Instead he put his mouth by his ear. “You’ll have to wait for a little longer,” he whispered. They both would.

O
f all the infuriating men!

Anna sat back in her carriage on the short drive home and she still felt the anger flowing through her. It bristled in her fingertips and made it impossible to sit still.

Make her wait
. Indeed.

As if she wanted to kiss him.

But she did. She could try to deny it to him, but despite the irrationality of the situation, she wanted him to kiss her. Thoroughly. He’d come so close and she’d thought she would die from the impatience and sense of anticipation. She put her fingers to her lips. If only she had someone to speak to about the matter, but her mother would never understand, nor would her sister, Elizabeth. She supposed she could speak with Angela, but Anna doubted the girl would have any helpful advice in such matters, and they really only saw one another in school.

Anna arrived back at home in time to rest for a while before the ball she had promised her mother she’d attend that evening. Her maid, Risa, met her in her bedchamber.

“Would you like to take a bath, my lady?” Risa asked.

“Yes, very much.” That would be precisely what she needed. It would soothe her muscles and clear her head. Remove all those unwanted thoughts about Drew and his promise of kisses.

Risa assisted Anna out of her dress and undergarments and then into the warm orange-and-clove-scented water. Anna exhaled slowly, lowering herself until the water covered her shoulders.

“Risa, do you know anything about men?”

Anna hadn’t really meant to ask that aloud, but it was done now. There were worse people to discuss such matters with. Risa had been her maid for the last five years, and she was very much like an older sister.

“Beg your pardon?”

“Men—they’re such confounding creatures, wouldn’t you agree?” Anna wiggled her toes to the surface of the bath water. “Confusing and perplexing and everything in between.”

Risa chuckled. “I cannot speak of all men, especially gentlemen, Lady Annabelle. I know that my own husband can be downright exasperating, but I’ve not found him confusing.”

Anna knew her maid would not further inquire to her personal situation. If Anna wanted to discuss matters she’d have to keep talking. “There is a particular gentleman.” She sat up in the water and Risa ran a soaped sponge down Anna’s back. “He has not expressed any romantic inclinations toward me, but he has kissed me. And he told me quite precisely that he intends to do it again.”

Risa clicked her tongue. “I see now why you are confused. But it is not this man who perplexes you so, but rather the differences between men and women. There is a reason why women are often referred to as hens: we talk, we gossip, we express ourselves with our words. Men, though, they speak with their bodies. They fight when they are angry, and when they desire, they pursue that which has caught their attention.”

Desire. Pursue. Attention—perhaps Risa was right about that with most men. But men did not desire or pursue Anna. There was no reason to believe that Drew would be any different in that capacity.

“How do you feel toward said gentleman?” Risa asked. “Are his kisses wanted?”

“Risa, I am supposed to be a lady of good breeding—”

Risa tossed back her head and laughed. “My dear Lady Annabelle, you are a lady with feelings and desires, just as any woman.” She poured the scented water over Anna’s head, rinsing her hair. “It is quite clear to me that the feelings are mutual between you and this gent.”

“Regardless, I should not allow him to take such liberties,” Anna said. Her inexplicable draw to him notwithstanding. There was nothing wrong with him, of course; he was a perfectly acceptable man, but he was crass, and he’d been in prison, for heaven’s sake. It mattered not that he’d been innocent.

“Quite true,” Risa said. “But I do know that your mama has been quite distraught about you not having any suitors.”

Anna smiled. “She has been rather insistent about that lately.” But she couldn’t help wondering why it was that she never had any suitors. Well, there had been that one, two years before, but he’d been twice her age—and even her mother would not have subjected Anna to such a union.

Still, something must be amiss about her. Even Mabel Reynolds had found a husband, and she’d been the most plain of all of the girls Anna had come out with. Granted, her husband was slightly cross-eyed, yet it was deemed a good match.

Here was Anna, though, far too many years out from her introduction into Society, with no prospects in sight. Except for one rapscallion of a man who scandalously proclaimed he wanted to kiss her. Had already done so once. And, considering her future looked bleak at best on the marriage front, she just might allow him that second kiss. Perhaps even a third.