A Kiss Before Dawn (3 page)

As she bent to slide her riding boots back on, Peter moved a short distance away. He knew he'd been a bit
abrupt, but the sooner he delivered her to Knighthaven, the better off he would be.

If such a brief time in her company threw him this much off balance, he wondered grimly, how in bloody hell was he going to handle staying under the very same roof with her for who knew how long?

Despite his misgivings, he knew there could be no going back now. He only hoped this wouldn't turn out to be the biggest mistake of his life.

P
eter was home.

Her mind awhirl with the implications of his appearance, Emily couldn't help studying the man who rode alongside her as they started their horses back up the trail toward Knighthaven.

What was he doing here?

When she had first looked up to see him looming over her, she'd been certain that she must be dreaming, that she had hit her head in her fall and conjured forth his image from the depths of her muddled brain. But when he'd opened his mouth to speak, she'd realized she wasn't hallucinating. He was really standing there before her, as tall and handsome as ever. True, his shoulders were a bit broader, his square, tanned face a bit
harder, but he still affected her just as strongly as he always had, stealing her breath, her wits, and her reason.

Dear God, she'd been so certain all her feelings for Peter were dead, that he had killed them with his abandonment that long-ago night, but it seemed he was still entirely capable of bringing her body to life in a most distressing manner. When he had swept her into his arms, the feel of that muscled chest under her hands had caused her mouth to go dry, and his gentle examination of her ankles with his lean, callused fingers had set her stomach to fluttering.

Remember who this man is,
she warned herself.
He is the one who walked away and left you without a second thought!

She had every right to be wary. Once she had believed they were closer than any two people could be. But she'd been wrong. That misjudgment had caused her a great deal of pain and disillusionment, and that was something she could never forget.

However, at nearly two and twenty, she was a woman now, not a child. Surely she could control these troubling emotions and behave as a proper young lady should. She would be polite, but distant, making it clear in no uncertain terms that whatever had been between them was now firmly in the past.

Turning in her saddle to face him, she schooled her features into a deliberately casual expression. “You know, you never really answered my question.”

He glanced at her over his shoulder. “Oh? And what question was that?”

“Why are you here? Why would my brother ask you to come home now?”

He gave a careless shrug and looked away to contemplate the tree-lined path before them. “He seemed to think it would be a nice surprise for Lady Ellington.”

Emily waited a few moments, but when no further explanation was forthcoming, she didn't force the issue. It appeared that Peter was no more anxious to converse with her than she was with him.

At that moment, their horses trotted into the stable yard behind the house, and as a groom came forward to take their mounts, Peter swung down from his saddle. Before Emily had a chance to move, he was at her side, reaching up to grasp her waist and lower her to the ground in one smooth motion.

But instead of releasing her right away, his hold seemed to tighten a bit and he leaned his head close to her ear, his eyes searching her face in an unnerving manner.

“Are you certain you're all right?” he asked. “Your ankle isn't paining you?”

Polite, Emily,
she reminded herself, feeling oddly breathless as she met his gaze.
Polite, but distant.

“Yes, of course. I'm quite recovered.” It wasn't a complete lie. Right now she could feel nothing but a queer tingling sensation where his fingers spanned her waist.

Peter opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say another word, he was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of a carriage approaching from the road in front of Knighthaven.

Feeling an overwhelming sense of relief, Emily took advantage of his momentary inattention to disengage herself and move away.

“That must be Tristan now.” Without waiting for a reply, she turned and started off along the cobblestone path that wound around the building, grateful for the reprieve.

By the time she reached the front of the house with Peter at her heels, the carriage was rolling to a stop at the foot of the wide steps that led up to the front entrance of Knighthaven. Recognizing the elegant equipage with the Ellington crest emblazoned on its side, she hurried forward eagerly.

The coachman hopped down from his perch, swinging open the door to reveal the powerful frame of the Earl of Ellington.

“Tristan!” Emily lunged at him as he stepped down from the conveyance and flung her arms around his neck in a fierce hug.

“Here now. What's this?” His voice was teasing as he bent to press a kiss to her temple. “If I didn't know any better, I might almost believe my little sister missed me.”

Her heart lodged in her throat. She and Tristan hadn't always been close. In fact, when he had first returned home to assume guardianship of her upon their father's death when she'd been fourteen, she'd viewed him with anger and resentment. But over the years, their relationship had grown and flourished into a deep and abiding affection.

“As if that were even a remote possibility,” she sniffed, releasing her stranglehold on him. “I can't
imagine why I would ever miss anyone so vexing.”

Tristan chuckled, then his smile faded and he gave a slight start as he focused on his sister's disheveled appearance. “Good God, Emily! What happened to you? You look as if you've been dragged backward through a briar patch.”

Aware all the while of Peter watching them quietly from a short distance away, she felt her cheeks flush and lifted a hand to push a tangled curl back behind her ear. “Er, I took a bit of a tumble off Artemis during my morning ride, I'm afraid.”

“Are you hurt?”

Before she could reply, Peter stepped forward. “She twisted her ankle,” he interjected with smooth aplomb, his tone deep and even. “But otherwise, she appears to be unharmed.”

Emily turned to face him. As if she needed him to speak for her! “Yes, Mr. Quick happened by just in time to offer me his assistance,” she told Tristan. She met Peter's gaze for a long, drawn-out moment, arrested by the shadows she could see swirling in their blue depths. “I'm most grateful.”

The earl grinned, seemingly oblivious of the powerful undercurrents arcing between his sister and the Bow Street runner. Strolling forward, he clapped the younger man on the back. “Ah, Peter. You made it.” He glanced back over his shoulder at Emily. “I suppose he told you that he'll be staying here at the house for a while.”

Emily's stomach lurched. Surely she must have misheard? “Here? At Knighthaven? Not Willow Park?”

“That's right. He has agreed to lend the local authorities a hand in apprehending the Oxfordshire Thief.”

Oh, dear God!

Emily felt all of the blood in her body drain into her toes and her pulse start to pound in her ears as her world narrowed down to Peter's piercing eyes, staring at her with a disturbing intensity. She should have known, should have suspected, but she'd been so caught off guard by his unexpected arrival that the possibility hadn't even occurred to her.

How would Peter react if he discovered that the girl he'd grown up with, the girl he'd once taught to pick pockets for the sheer fun of it, was now using those very skills to rob the good citizens of Oxfordshire?

She was very much afraid she knew the answer. With his newfound sense of duty, he would feel honor bound to turn her in. She doubted he would hesitate for even a moment, for he would never understand her actions, regardless of the reasons behind them. He would arrest her, and everything she'd done in order to save her family would have been in vain.

“Em?”

She looked up to find her brother watching her with curious eyes, and she fought to paste a smile on her face despite her growing panic. “That's wonderful news, of course.” She turned to Peter, her smile wavering a little at the corners. “But I am a bit surprised. Surely you must be much too busy to spend your time searching for a simple country thief? You—”

“Far from simple, Em,” Tristan cut her off, his jaw setting at a stubborn angle. “The brigand has robbed
three homes in Little Haverton in the last month, one of them the home of very good friends of ours. And I needn't tell you what sort of problems he has caused for Willow Park.”

“Yes, but—”

“I am never too busy when it comes to aiding my family, Lady Emily.” Peter took a step forward, coming to a halt in front of her, his expression serious. “Things are a bit slow at Bow Street at present, so my time is free as I will it. And I plan on using it to bring this thief to justice.”

She froze, unable to speak past the lump in her throat. Finally, she forced herself to incline her head in a stiff nod, praying none of her guilt showed on her face. “Of course. I'm certain the constable shall be happy to have your assistance.”

Tristan reached out and clapped Peter on the back in a hearty gesture before tucking his sister's arm through his. “There. Now, why don't we go inside and let Deirdre know you're here? She'll be anxious to see you.”

Feeling as if she were headed for her own execution, Emily climbed the steps next to her brother, aware the whole time of Peter's powerful presence close behind her. He gave off an almost palpable magnetism that seemed to vibrate through every pore of her body, making it impossible to ignore him.

He's here to find the thief.

The words echoed in her head and she suppressed a shiver at the sudden chill that overtook her. What was she going to do? Peter would be much harder to deceive than the rest of her family. If he was set on finding the
thief—and it seemed he was—she knew better than anyone how single-minded he could be once he had decided upon a course of action.

She took a deep breath. She had to stay calm, had to keep her wits about her, no matter what.

As they stepped into Knighthaven's spacious entry hall with its wood paneling, wine-colored carpet, and gilded furniture, they were approached by the butler, Langley, who greeted his master's return with a genuine smile of relief.

“It is good to have you home, my lord,” the portly little man said with a bow as he took the gentlemen's hats and gloves.

“Thank you, Langley,” Tristan said, nodding in return. “It's good to be back.”

“And Master Peter!” The servant's smile widened even more in his plump, ruddy face as he recognized the man standing next to his employer. “Have you come for a visit?”

“You might say that.”

The butler looked pleased at the news. “Lady Ellington will be overjoyed. Will you be staying long?”

Emily tensed as Peter looked in her direction, his gaze hooded. “Nothing is certain at this point, Langley. Let's just say that my stay could be indefinite.”

His statement had her gritting her teeth in outraged frustration. If she didn't know any better, she'd swear the beast was actually baiting her!

“By the by, Langley,” Tristan asked, glancing about with an obvious air of anticipation. “Where is Lady Ellington?”

“Having tea in the parlor with Mistress Lilah, my lord.”

“And how has she been this morning?”

“Quite well, my lord.” Langley lowered his voice as he cast a brief glance in the direction of the parlor door, which stood ajar. “Though I must admit it has been difficult to keep her occupied so she isn't tempted to push herself. Thank goodness for Mistress Lilah. I—”

At that moment, he was interrupted by the sound of an inquiring feminine voice drifting out into the corridor. “Langley, who are you speaking to? Do we have guests?”

Tristan didn't wait another second, but moved off along the hallway toward the parlor with purposeful strides, his impatience to see his wife evident.

Emily turned and started after him, eager to put some distance between herself and the man next to her, but Peter's hand on her arm brought her to an abrupt halt. She gasped at the frisson of heat that shot through her, and she struggled to bring her fluttering pulse back under control before she faced him with what she hoped was an unreadable expression. “Yes?”

He hesitated for just a moment, regarding her silently before he spoke in a low tone. “Emily, I want you to know that my presence here isn't in any way meant to hurt you. I apologize if the situation is a bit awkward.”

She raised an eyebrow. A
bit
awkward? Why, she couldn't think of a way the situation could possibly be any worse. But she had no intention of letting him know how she felt—or of letting him see her fear. “Think
nothing of it, Mr. Quick. I assure you that your presence here doesn't affect me one way or the other. I can't imagine why it would.”

With that, she whirled and swept off after Tristan, feeling Peter's stare burning into her back as he followed her.

She caught up with her brother just as he stepped into the parlor. Spacious and airy, the room reflected the refined tastes of the lady of the house with its delicate color scheme of blue and ivory echoed in the carpets and the flowered wallpaper. Gauzy lace curtains, chintz-covered chairs, and elegant furnishings completed the picture. On the far side of the room, louvered French doors stood open to the gentle stirring of the spring breeze.

They were greeted by a voice far less dulcet than the one that had called out a few moments ago.

“Well, look who finally decided to come 'ome.”

Despite her worries, one corner of Emily's mouth gave a humorous twitch as her gaze went to the woman who stood next to the fireplace.

Tall and statuesque with upswept black hair only faintly touched with silver, Lilah was Lady Ellington's good friend and companion, as well as wife to Tristan's right-hand man, Cullen. A former prostitute who had followed the family to Oxfordshire when they'd left London eight years ago, she still possessed a brassy charm that might have been off-putting to some, but made her a particular favorite of Emily's. She never hesitated to speak her mind.

As she was doing now. “It's about time you decided to get 'ere,” she continued, crossing her arms over her
ample bosom and leveling Tristan with a stern glare. “Off 'aving a grand old time gadding about the city while we sit 'ere on our bums and twiddle our thumbs waiting for you.”