A Perfect Hero (4 page)

Dane sighed. “All right, all right, I admit it,” he said aloud. “She is rather fetching, isn’t she? In truth, she’s
most
fetching.”

The cat’s purring grew louder. Reaching out, Dane ruffled the fur on his back, a faint smile on his lips.

But in the next instant, his mouth thinned. His expression turned grim. The lady was so still. So quiet. He’d seen head injuries before. It was pos
sible she might never wake.

And if she did... well, then what? That was another matter entirely.

He did not wish her dead. He wished no one
dead! But Dane was not pleased that the fates chose to carry her into his path. Her presence was an unexpected—and most unwelcome— complication. He sighed. Yet it was beyond his power to change the fact that she was here. No, he could change nothing.

Maximilian looked up at him, stretched, and leaped lightly up to his shoulders.

Dane reached to scratch the creature’s neck. “All we can do is wait, eh, my friend?”

Settling his length along the back of Dane’s shoulders, Maximilian purred his agreement.

At almost the very same instant, Julianna stirred. Some innate sense she hadn’t known she pos
sessed sent prickles of alarm all along her skin. Something was wrong. Her head felt twice its size. She didn’t want to move, for it was as if her limbs were weighted by lead. But there was soft
ness beneath her. She was lying on a bed, she re
alized, smothered in warmth. Prying open first one eye, and then the other, she discovered her surroundings were laden in shadow. She stirred, only to have a knifelike pain shoot through her head. Gasping, she stilled into immobility. What on earth...?

Little by little, she relived the scene on the roadway. Her thought processes were slow, al
most tortuous, like slogging through wet sand. The gleam of pistols flashed in her mind’s eye.

She recalled the jolting motion of the coach,

flinging her hands up to catch herself . . .

Then nothing.

But now, she was here, in this strange place.

And so was he. The Magpie.

Watching her.

She could almost feel the hair stand up on the back of her neck, the bead of sweat pop out along her upper lip. Straining to see through the filmy shadows, for nary the light of even a single candle filled the void, only the eerie glow of dying em
bers from a fire, Julianna found herself in the grip of an unsettling awareness. Two things came to her in the space of a single heartbeat. There was something strange about his silhouette, she real
ized. His shoulders were odd and misshapen— sweet Lord, he was a hunchback!

That...and the fact that his mask was gone.

The sight gave rise to a stomach-churning fear. Still, she struggled to see him. Alas, she could dis
cern nothing but the sharp blade of his nose, the broad sweep of his brow. There was a nightmar
ish cast to the room, to
him
. Her mind seemed ca
pable of registering only darkness and shadows, shadows that seemed to undulate and shift from every corner, surrounding him, as if to shield him. Indeed, it was like a hazy mist clung to his form, dark and impenetrable. He turned then, facing her fully. Beneath thick black brows his eyes were aglow in the dark, golden and
burning ...the devil’s eyes, a demon’s eyes, just as Mrs. Chadwick predicted, Julianna thought vaguely.

He stepped close.

A chill went through her at the touch of those eyes. The pounding rhythm in her head matched the rampant rhythm of her heart. Her thoughts twisted and turned, like gnarled branches in the forest. He loomed above her like a black monster.

“So. You’re awake then, mistress.”

Mistress.
It is not mistress, Julianna thought argumentatively. Her lips parted. She licked her lips, prepared to tell him exactly that, but her tongue felt weighted and clumsy.

“Don’t try to talk,” came his voice. Soft, low, even melodious. “It was quite a tumble you took. Indeed, you were pitched and rolled like a ball in a child’s game.”

Kindness? Advice? From a dreaded highway
man? “Go back to hell whence you came,” she heard herself mutter.

And she paid for it. Oh, how she paid for it! Pain lanced from one side of her head to the other and back again. She bit back a moan. She felt cold, clammy, sick to the very essence of her being.

“Noble words, lady. But I suspect you know little of hell.”

It was in her mind to argue, but suddenly Ju
lianna had neither the strength nor the inclina
tion. Her eyes squeezed shut, and she felt the world fading away. Darkness and confusion swirled all around. She felt herself sliding toward oblivion once more. She fought it, but it was no use. In some distant, faraway corner, she felt the bed dip.

“
No.
” The soft protest was hers.

“It’s all right. I won’t hurt you.”

She tried to speak once more. She tried with every ounce of her being. But her body, her mind, refused to obey. And then the hard, heavy length of this great hulking man stretched out next to her. A part of her was appalled. She couldn’t help but remember what Mrs. Chadwick had said.
He may well murder us in our beds.
This couldn’t be happening, she decided vaguely. She—a very proper virtuous spinster—wasn’t lying abed with a man next to her...and not just any man. A notorious highwayman.

A hunchback, she thought with a shudder.

It had to be a dream. Lud, a nightmare! When she woke, surely he would be gone.

But when next she woke, sunlight streamed all around her. The golden glow was surprisingly cozy, and the feeling gave her pause. Cautiously she moved her head. There was no answering pain this time, and she opened her eyes.

It was then she heard the splash of water. Her gaze followed the sound. The Magpie stood be
fore a washbasin, clad only in boots and breeches. His head was down, the muscles of his arms knotted and keenly defined as he braced himself against the table.

Julianna’s mouth went dry as she was given a heart-stopping view of his chest. She must surely have been dreaming last night, for there was nothing misshapen about his form, no hint of im
perfection. No, she reiterated faintly, this was no hunchback to offend the eye or sensibility. In
deed, there was naught to be found in his form but a startling perfection. Every lean, solid inch of him was muscle and brawn. Amidst the dark, curly mat of hair on his chest, droplets of water sparkled like tiny jewels.

As if he sensed her regard, he slowly raised his head.

Their eyes caught.

It spun through Julianna’s mind that his hair was dark and shaggy, too long for him to be con
sidered a slave to fashion. And those eyes she had compared to the devil’s were actually hazel, so light they were almost gold.

In that instant, Julianna’s heart surely stood still. She wasn’t sure which was more disconcerting— seeing him half-naked or knowing that this man had lain next to her the night through. Though it cost her pride mightily, she did not avert her eyes from his.

His voice, when he spoke, was like the Scotch
whisky her brother Sebastian favored—dry but laced with a touch of silky smoothness. “So,” he murmured, arching one dark brow. “That was quite a nap you took. Indeed, for a time I was afraid you would not wake.”

Julianna said nothing, merely watched him warily as she sat up. “I would have thought you’d rejoice if I hadn’t woken.”

“Why is that?”

“I’ve seen your face.” The admission came without thought, without volition.

For the longest time he said nothing. When he spoke, his voice was almost deadly quiet. “So you have,” he returned at last. “So you have.”

Julianna looked at him sharply. Alas, she could gauge nothing of his meaning from his expression.

“I suppose you’re nursing a bit of a headache. That’s quite a lump you have there.”

Julianna’s hand went automatically to the back of her head. Indeed, there was a sizable knot there that made her wince.

His brows shot up. “What! Did you think I was a liar?”

Julianna sent him what she hoped was a suit
ably quelling glare.

“I’m not, you know.”

“Oh? You are a highwayman, sir. I suspect you’re many things, all of which are quite despi
cable.”

“Ah, so you’re feeling rather peevish again, are you?”

Julianna angled her chin high. “Where is the coachman?” she demanded. “Are you holding him here as well?”

Something flickered across his face, something that made her go cold inside. “He’s gone,” he said briefly.

“Gone,” Julianna repeated. “What do you mean?”

He simply looked at her.

Her lips parted. “What,” she said faintly. “You mean he’s ...dead?”

“Yes.”

Julianna’s eyes widened. For all that she couldn’t decipher
him,
she was unaware her ex
pression conveyed her every nuance of thought. “I ...Mercy, you mean you...you...” She couldn’t seem to complete the thought.

He took her meaning immediately. “I did not harm him,” he said flatly, shrugging on his shirt. “He was dead when I reached him.”

“Oh.” Julianna averted her gaze. Tears filled her eyes. She blinked them back before he could see.

Beneath the covers, something brushed against her legs. Something she couldn’t see. With a screech, she hurtled from the bed.

“You’ve rats in here!”

He caught her when she would have rushed past him. “It’s only Maximilian.”

“What, you’ve names for them?” She was aghast.

To her shock, he threw back his head and laughed, a low sound that was oddly pleasing— which left her
most
confused.

With a hitch of his chin, he indicated the bed she’d just vacated. “Look,” was all he said.

Julianna glanced behind her, just as a shiny black head and two pointed ears popped out from beneath the coverlet. A long, fuzzy body followed. A
cat,
she realized in amazement, at first dumbfounded, then feeling profoundly like a fool. Huge yellow-green eyes regarded her in un
blinking curiosity. The animal tipped its head to the side, as if in silent query.

“Meet Maximilian,” said the robber. “He ap
pears to have taken a liking to you, a fact that quite frankly surprises me to no end. Generally, Maxim
ilian is a creature of most discerning taste.”

“I can see that if he is attached to
you,
” Ju
lianna retorted.

“Ah, a cheeky wench.”

“Wench!” Julianna sizzled. Never in her life had she been called a wench. Why, no one would dare! That
he
had roused in her a seething rage. Drawing in a deep breath, Julianna prepared to heap upon him a most scathing denunciation.

Two things dawned on her in that instant, however. Rather belatedly she realized she was still clutching at him; indeed, she was wrapped around him in a most unseemly manner!

The second was the feel of him beneath her fingertips.

All at once she felt several degrees warmer. The bottom seemed to drop out of her belly, for he was as solid and unyielding as a rock, as hard as if he were fashioned of pure granite.

She attempted to step back; it appeared he had other intentions.

His hold on her tightened. He gave a slight shake of his head. His grip was not hurtful, but Julianna was acutely aware of those strong, mas
culine hands curled around her shoulders.

“You were alone in the coach,” he said abruptly. “Why?”

Julianna looked him straight in the eye. “I am of an age, sir, where I am hardly in need of a chaperone.”

“And do you always travel without a maid?”

“My maid was ill. I sent her back to London,” she said levelly.

“And where were you going?”

Julianna lifted her chin. “To Bath,” she told him evenly. “To my home.”

“Who awaits you there?” He shot off ques
tions, one after the other, like a firing squad.

“My husband,” she said quickly.

His eyes narrowed. Before she could stop him, he snatched up her hand and held it high.

“You wear no ring nor have you ever,” he stated flatly. “You, lady, are neither wed nor betrothed.”

Dismay shot through her. And yet he was wrong, she decided wildly. She’d once worn Thomas’s betrothal ring . . .

“I will ask you once more. Who awaits you there?”

Panic raced through her. Julianna tried to dis
guise it. “I told you, my husb—”

“My dear lady,” he stated very deliberately, “I am a man of instinct. Why, my very life depends on it! Indeed, my very life depends on what I read in people’s faces—and what I read in yours tells me that you are a liar. It tells me that no one is ex
pecting you. So pray do not insult me by seeking to deceive me.”