A Perfect Hero (22 page)

When at last they arrived at her house, dark
ness had begun to settle in like a shroud. He turned to her. “I’m coming in,” was all he said.

“Please don’t,” she said, her voice strangled.

Julianna felt his gaze digging into her like a thousand tiny needles.

Slowly she raised her head. “It might be better if we don’t see each other again.”

She hadn’t known she was going to say it un
til she did. She sat poised on the edge of the seat.

She felt the sudden tension that invaded his every pore.

He did not touch her. If he had, she thought wildly, she would never have found the courage to remain so still.

“Julianna, listen to me. I can give you the things you want. I
will
give you the things you want. The babies you want.”

Her body trembled. And so did her heart. Ah, especially her heart!

She had told herself she would never know passion—desire—in a man’s arms. But in Dane’s
arms, she had. So much it was almost frighten
ing! Seeing him again ...being with him. It felt so right.

He had feelings for her. Deep in her soul, she knew it. She’d felt it in the tender sweep of his arms around her back, in the compelling heat of his mouth on hers.

But so much of her was in turmoil! Being with him at the cottage, the dreadful way she’d missed him ...She’d been a fool with Thomas, never guessing that he’d been seeing Clarice while they were engaged.

And perhaps she feared being so foolish once more.

She shook her head. Her eyes avoided his. “Please,” she began carefully. All at once she broke off. Her gaze fixed on a point just beyond his shoulder.

“What? What is it?”

“That man across the way. He’s just standing there. Dane, I think he’s looking at us.”

In one lightning move, Dane reached beneath the seat. When he vaulted to the street, there was a glint of steel.

The man across the street touched the brim of his hat and walked away.

“It’s all right. I know him.” Dane tucked the pistol into his breeches. He reached for Julianna and swung her down.

She blinked. “Oh, my God. All this time you had a pistol—”

“Yes.”

The man had walked to the corner and stood there. “He’s waiting for you?”

“Yes.”

“Well, then, you’d best not keep him any longer.”

His jaw might have been forged of iron. “This does not end here, Julianna.”

“And I say it does.”

Dane cursed. “I’ll be back, Julianna.”

“No, Dane.
No
. Please don’t.” She swallowed the rending ache in her breast. “It will be easier for me if you don’t.”

And then she walked away.

Dane nearly flung himself on the chair at the coffeehouse where he and Phillip had agreed to meet.

Phillip eyed him curiously. “You’re in a mood, aren’t you?”

Dane scowled and ordered a whisky.

“Does it have something to do with your lady
bird?”

Dane raised his brows. “Clever, aren’t we? I can see why you do what you do, Phillip. I just wish you would do it more quickly so I could have done with it.”

Phillip laughed, then sighed. “The truth is, Dane, I am beginning to fear we shall never find this blackguard. It is proving an arduous process.”

Long fingers drummed on the tabletop. “That is not what I wish to hear, Phillip.”

Phillip grimaced. “I know. Yet we are doing all we can to force his hand.” He eyed Dane. “Are you going out tonight?”

“It seems I have no choice, does it?” Dane picked up his glass.

His friend studied him. “Are you all right?”

“No.”

Phillip watched him down the whisky. “You cannot afford to be distracted,” he said softly. “This is dangerous business.”

Dane’s head turned. His bootheels rapped sharply on the wooden floor as he got to his feet. “You tend to your business”—he was unusually short—“and I’ll tend to mine.”

The ebony night was silent and sleepy. Overhead the darkness was almost impenetrable, thick and heavy, an ominous swell of clouds stifling the cir
clet of moon.

Dane swept a restless glance down the road
way. Beneath him, Percival shifted, pawing the damp earth and sending a scatter of leaves whirling with a sudden breeze. With a single word, Dane stilled his mount.

Phillip was right, he decided blackly. His mind was not where it should be. His mind was not on his work. Nor was his heart in it.

Hell. Bloody hell.

He did not want to be here. He wanted to be anywhere but here.

No, that was not right. He wanted to be with her.
Julianna
.

Almost from the beginning, he’d warned him
self he could not allow his desire to rule him. Al
ways before, the nature of his work had demanded he keep his heart intact, for what if his greatest fear should come to pass? To forfeit his life when he well knew the risks . . . It wouldn’t have been fair to any woman...God knew, it wasn’t fair to Julianna! There had been far too much heartache in her life already.

But desire had become much more. He couldn’t stop what happened between them. He still couldn’t. God above, he didn’t want to!

Lord, he thought disgustedly, what a mess he’d made of things! What the devil had he been thinking? He’d been too confident. Just as she’d said—too arrogant! All that was male and swag
gering within him still did not want to believe she’d refused him.

Not, he decided grimly, that it had been a very proper proposal.

No, it didn’t come out as it should have. He should have courted her. Waited.

Her voice was sweeter than the sun shining through the blackest night. Pure. Bright and un
tarnished. Was it any wonder that he was impa
tient?

So what the hell was he supposed to do? He would not let her go. No, she wouldn’t be rid of him so easily. She wasn’t going to walk out of his life.

By Jove, he was going to walk right back into hers.

In the distance came the rumble of wheels. Per-cival’s ears pricked forward. Dane laid a hand on his neck, feeling the powerful black’s skin ripple beneath his touch.

When the coach came into view, the coachman beheld the ominous sight of a huge black beast stationed directly in the middle of the roadway, a masked, caped figure atop the muscled steed.

With a jangle of harness, the coach shuddered to a halt. The potbellied driver gaped.

“Hands up,” Dane ordered smoothly. A middle-aged gentleman thrust his head from the passenger compartment. “What is it, man? Why have you stopped?” His eyes bulged when he glimpsed Dane’s masked figure.

“It’s him, Jane! The Magpie!”

There was a piercing scream from within.

“Rest easy, madam.” Dane glanced inside as he slung a fat bag over his shoulder. “I have what I want.”

He vaulted back into the saddle and seized the reins. A squeeze of his thighs and Percival was off.

Dane glanced back over his shoulder.

Damnation! The coachman was fumbling un
der his cape. Even as the realization ripped through his brain, a bullet zinged past his ear and splintered the bark from the low-hanging branch just above his head.

Phillip was right.

He could not be careless. That was entirely too close for comfort.

The woman in the corner lifted the folds of her veil. Roxbury was busy, reverently examining his latest piece, a long wooden box delicately in
laid with ivory and gold, wonderfully preserved. Reluctantly, he put it aside and regarded his vis
itor.

“Why do you stare,
madame
?”

“I have been wondering about the patch over your eye,” she said suddenly. “I recall you did not have it when you were young.”

“
Madame
, I wonder that you recalled me at all.” He gave a short laugh.

“What happened?”

“An injury sustained while I served in the Royal Navy during the Battle of the Nile.”

“The Battle of the Nile! I should have known!”

Her piquant brows slanted high. “Lord Nelson’s ship?”

“No. The
Culloden
. You will recall the British soundly trounced the French.”

She ignored the gibe. “I would have thought you well suited to the military life.”

He touched the patch. “My commanders thought otherwise.” His smile was tight.

“You are aware that François grows impatient for his gold. I cannot continue to make excuses for your lack of funds.”

He feigned astonishment. “What! A man you cannot wrap around your finger?”

“You said the delay was because the highwayman—what is his name?”

“The Magpie.”

“Yes, yes. The Magpie. That he had stolen your funds. But a man of your position ...how is it you have acquired your wealth? It is not by legitimate means, is it?”

“Very good,
madame
.”

“How then?”

A smile dallied about his lips. “Since you per
sist,
madame
, allow me to show you.” Opening the drawer of the desk, he displayed two bank
notes on the table before her.

“Look closely,
madame.
Look
closely.”

Understanding spread across her features. She inhaled sharply. “Do you mean to say—”

“Quite so. A nearly flawless execution, don’t you agree? I daresay only an official of the Bank of England would know the difference. I ship the notes to a man who then distributes the bogus currency across England. Of course, like François, I prefer my payment in gold. But alas, the law of economy prevails. No production, no return. If my contacts do not receive my ship
ments, I cannot profit. And the Magpie is making that difficult. So I suggest you find a way to pla
cate François,
madame,
for I’ve not yet finished with you. There are many who might be inter
ested in learning that the late Armand was not your only husband—” he gave a grating laugh “—and hardly your first.”

Her eyes flashed. “I may oblige you,” she re
torted, “but I do not have to like it.”

Roxbury laughed softly. “Restrain your tem
per,
madame
. But come, I am a reasonable man. What would make you happy?”

“To return to Paris!”

“All in good time,
madame
. But I would know, what displeases you so?”

“I am tired of London. I am tired of England. And I am tired of the company of my maid!”

“Do not pout,
madame
. It’s most unbecoming. I am, however, ever ready to accommodate you. So what would please you, I wonder. What would amuse you? A night at the theater?” He lit
a cigar, sat back and stared at her through a haze of smoke. “Yes, I see that it would. We are alike, you and I. We both know how to get what we want, don’t we?”

espite everything, Julianna half expected Dane to appear at her doorstep the following morning. He did not, and when she walked in Hyde Park later that day, she discovered why.

Lord and Lady Harrison stopped their curricle as Julianna stopped to retie the yellow silk rib
bons of her bonnet. “You should not walk alone, my lady.”

Julianna summoned a smile. “I often walk alone, Lord Harrison,” she replied.

“Ah, but the Magpie was seen just outside of the city last night. I do believe the rogue grows bolder with each passing day.”

Julianna’s heart lurched. “He’s not such a dangerous sort,” protested Eugenia, Lord Harrison’s wife.

Lord Harrison sent her a startled glance. “And how would you know?”

Eugenia, who was quite the gossip, clasped her hands together, her eyes glowing. “I’ve heard he’s quite . . .” She suddenly seemed to remember it was her husband she addressed.

“Handsome?” her husband supplied.

Eugenia bit her lip. “Well, yes.”

A bittersweet pang shot through her.
That he is,
she affirmed silently.
That he is
.

Lord Harrison snorted. “Well, handsome or no, it’s only a matter of time before the rogue is caught. The coachman hid a pistol in his coat, and when the Magpie rode off last night, he very nearly took off the scoundrel’s head.”

Her heart plummeted. She stood stock-still. Anger and fear warred like a tide in her breast. It was a precarious life that Dane led. How could he court danger so carelessly—and with such ease?

She did not understand it. She never would.

She was trembling as Lord and Lady Harrison bade her good day and rode off.

At the Farthingales’ ball the night she had seen Dane, Julianna had agreed to attend the theater this evening with her friend Caroline and her hus
band. In truth, she had no desire to go. She had cried herself to sleep last night, and didn’t know if she could appear bright and sprightly.

Not that she was about to explain. Indeed,
what could she say? She had half a mind to send a note round to Caroline explaining she could not attend. But if she remained at home, she was well aware what would happen. She would end up crying herself to sleep again.

The claret gown she donned lent her color and courage. Julianna put him from her mind as she entered the theater with her friends.

Of all the theaters in London, the Theatre Royal was Julianna’s favorite. The theater had burned to the ground on four different occasions. She couldn’t help but recall when it had reopened the last time, six years ago; she, Sebastian, and Justin had attended the opening performance of
Hamlet
.

The evening passed more quickly than she ex
pected. Bidding good-bye to Caroline and her husband, she exited the lofty interior. Pausing around the corner on Russell Street, she glanced idly down the long procession of carriages, look
ing for her vehicle.

The throng streamed all around her. As she stood, a sizzle of awareness tingled its way along the back of her neck. She turned her head ever so slightly.

Splendidly attired in black coat and boots that showed off the beauty of his form, a man stood out above the others. She nearly gasped.

It was almost unnervingly like the other night at the Farthingales. There was something alarm
ingly deliberate in his unfaltering gait as he ad
vanced. She turned, fighting a surge of panic.

Warm fingers curled into her elbow. “Going somewhere, love?” came his husky murmur.

Her heart knocked wildly in her chest. Ju
lianna forced her gaze to his face, bracing herself inside. Her eyes flashed mutinously. “How did you find me?”

“Mrs. MacArthur proved most accommo
dating.”

She stiffened. “I see. I shall have to speak with her. Unfortunately, you’ve made the journey in vain.” She was proud of her aplomb. “Ah, there they are now. Please excuse me.”

He didn’t release her. Instead, his fingers ca
ressed the inside of her elbow, there where her glove ended. A jolt of pleasure shot through her.

“I am leaving, Dane.”

“Yes. With me.” His tone was ever so pleasant, but beneath was a note of steel. There was a slant to his charming smile that did not bode well.

“No. I—I’m waiting for my friend Caroline and her husband. We’re having a late supper—”

He was shaking his head.

Her lips compressed. “What?
What?
”

“You are undoubtedly the worst liar I have ever encountered.”

“Coming from you, sir, I shall consider that a compliment!”

He maintained that damnable smile—and it
was vastly irritating. He tossed a greeting to

someone. His gaze returned to her.

“I am not leaving with you, Dane.”

“If you don’t, I’ll be forced to tell everyone here about those delectable dimples you have on your backside.”

She gazed at him levelly. “Dane, what are you doing?”

“You threatened me at the Farthingales, love. It is not a pleasant feeling, is it?”

“I dislike demands.”

“Except when you make them.”

She glared at him. “You’re late for the play,” she said suddenly. “Did someone steal your pocket watch, my lord?”

His eyes narrowed. His grip tightened subtly, as if in warning. “Julianna,” he began.

“Yes, yes, I’m quite aware. All in a night’s work, I suppose.”

He said nothing, merely watched her from be
neath black brows.

Julianna swallowed. “Is it true what happened last night? That someone—”

“Yes.” His lips barely moved.

“And you are well?” She couldn’t help but ask.

“Of course.”

Of course.
Of course?
Damn him! she thought wildly. He was not invincible. How like a man— how like him!—to be convinced he was.

By now her carriage had rolled to a halt, tak
ing its place in line behind the others. George, the driver, pulled the door open. “My lady?” he said cheerfully.

Dane handed her inside and leaped up to fol
low her. Before she could protest, he’d swung up on the seat beside her. His thigh rode against hers, so much harder and longer than her own.

Strong fingers caught at hers. “You’re running, Julianna. But you don’t have to. You don’t have to be afraid.”

Was she?
Was she?
After Thomas, she had run, all the way to the Continent. But she didn’t want to run from Dane. She wanted to throw herself against him, feel his arms lock tight around her back, and know the splendor of his kiss.

Her eyes were riveted by the sight of her hands trapped within his. She was achingly aware of his strength, his power, yet his touch was so very gentle.

Her gaze climbed high. Clear to his. Her eyes clung to his.

“Why are you here, Dane?”

He scanned her features. A tremor shot through her. Did he see it? Did he feel it? she wondered frantically. Did she even care? With his expression so heated and intense, it made her in
sides melt like wax beneath a flame.

“I can’t stay away, kitten.”

“This is madness,” she whispered.

Never had she been so torn! To have happiness
within her grasp...to have
him
within her grasp. She felt battered and bruised inside. He was right. She was afraid. She was terrified! What if she trusted him, and it was for naught? The hurt would be immense. Yet how could she deny herself? How could she deny him?

She had told herself she must forget him. But how, when he invaded her mind at every turn. She couldn’t keep thoughts of him at bay. It appeared she couldn’t keep
him
at bay! Oh, curse her stu
pid, foolish pride.

She drew a ragged breath. Her expression be
trayed her. Did her heart? Dane must have read her struggle in her expression, for his gaze delved into hers. Fiercely intent. Indeed, it was as if he reached clear inside her. He saw what no one else saw. He saw what no one else ever had. He saw what
she
could not see.

“You claim you will never marry, Julianna. Is it an affair you want?”

“No!” she gasped.

“Nor do I,” he said curtly. “So what is it then?”

A hot ache clogged her throat so that she could utter a sound. “I don’t know,” she whispered, unable to keep her voice from breaking. “I don’t know!”

His gaze was almost accusing. “You care, Ju
lianna. I know you do.”

“And what if I do? Oh, don’t you see? I don’t want to.”

His eyes darkened. “What the devil does that mean? We have lain together, Julianna. As a man and woman. As a husband and wife
should
. That is not something I take lightly, nor should you.”

“Oh! Do not dare to lecture me, Dane! I meant it when I said I would not marry you because of duty or obligation, or out of any sense of honor.
My
sense of honor precludes it. I want more from marriage than that, Dane. I want more from a husband!”

He made a loud, impatient exclamation. “Julianna—”

Julianna was shaking from head to toe. “It’s not just that,” she cried. “It’s not just that!”

Dane’s eyes narrowed. “What then?”

Somehow she regained hold of her self-possession. “You say you will give me children and—and all the things that I want. But I want a husband who will be steadfast and true. I want a husband who will be there each and every day of their lives ...each and every day of
my
life! I want a husband who will tell our children stories, and pick them up when they fall! Perhaps it’s self
ish, but I want a husband who will put me above all else.”

“I will do that, Julianna. Let me prove it—

“No,” she said wildly. “You can’t.
You can’t
.

You claimed you are afraid to die, but your ac
tions say otherwise. I-I don’t understand why you do what you do...Perhaps you are trying to punish yourself. Perhaps it’s a question of daring, a question of courage! You said the best way to overcome one’s fear is to face it. But I can’t do that—I can’t! I don’t want a husband who—who dashes in and out of my life at his leisure! I shouldn’t be able to survive knowing that when you left, it might well be the last time I saw you. I couldn’t live like that. I hate the way you deliberately put yourself in jeopardy, Dane. I hate it!”

The speech was unflinching, straight from the heart.

Her outburst had startled him. She saw it in the way his mouth drew into a thin, straight line. She tried to wrench her hands away, but his grip tightened.

“Dammit,” he said tautly, “I have no choice, Julianna. The game is not over. I must see it through. I cannot quit now.”

“And therein lies the difference between us. It is a game to you. But to me it is your life!” She swallowed painfully. “I know you cannot stop now. I know it is a question of honor, of loyalty. I understand. Truly I do. But I cannot accept it. I cannot. I want a man, Dane, not a mask.”