Authors: What A Woman Needs

Caroline Linden (13 page)

BOOK: Caroline Linden

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He lifted it and took a deep breath. Yes, it still carried just a trace of her perfume, and the warm, rich scent made his blood heat in memory. It had been lying in a heap on his doorstep the previous morning, but at least she had returned it.
What a missed opportunity
, he thought, wishing he had known things would go this way. If he had anticipated anything like the kiss they shared the night before, he would have made a greater effort to seduce Charlotte the night she broke in. Heiresses could be found the width and breadth of England, but a woman like that came along once in a lifetime, if a fellow were lucky.

A loud pounding interrupted his thoughts. Benton had gone to take the trunks already packed to be shipped back to London. Stuart put the cloak in his trunk and went to open the door.

“Where is she?” Stuart paused at the sight of the pistol in Charlotte’s hand, pointed straight at his heart. Good Lord, this woman had nerve, but he couldn’t deny the sudden jump in his pulse at the sight of her.

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.” He turned his back on her and strolled toward his room.

“Do not walk away from me.” Charlotte’s voice shook with fury. “I
will
fire!”

He glanced over his shoulder. “And I could not stop you since I am, as you see, unarmed.” He went into the bedroom, and she followed with a rustle of skirts, slamming the door behind her. Her chest rose rapidly, her eyes glittered, and her face was flushed. She was magnificent.

“Tell me where Susan is, or forfeit your life.”

Stuart burst out laughing. “Did you rehearse that line? It’s very good, but a little melodramatic. Next time, try it with less emotion; when holding a gun, it’s more frightening to your victim to be calm.”

She snorted. “You’re hardly anyone’s victim. Where is my niece?”

Stuart shrugged, only mildly curious. “I’ve no idea. I haven’t seen her since last night. Why? Have you lost your charge, Aunt Charlotte?”

“You think you can swindle me as well, don’t you?” She shook her head with a caustic laugh. “I’m not fooled, not a whit. I should shoot you now, as a kindness to all women, but will give you one more chance: tell me where she is, and I’ll let you live.”

He sighed, tossing more shirts into the trunk. “As magnanimous as your offer is, I can’t accept it. I have no idea where your niece is.”

“Then where are you going?” She raised her chin. “You’re packing. Do you deny you’re leaving town?”

“The sooner the better.”

“Where are you going?”

He hesitated. “To London. Alone,” he added as triumph flared in her eyes. “Feel free to follow and see for yourself. But I’m leaving on the afternoon mail, and really must finish packing, so if you don’t plan to leave, would you hand me those boots?”

She hurled the boots at his head. Stuart caught one and ducked the other, then tucked both into his trunk. Charlotte said nothing for a minute, pacing restlessly about and peering around all the furniture. Stuart continued his packing even though awareness of her sizzled along his every nerve. He had never wanted a woman who held a gun on him before; it was rather perverse, but undeniably exciting. Under her watchful gaze he folded his trousers and shirts, whistling a tune under his breath just to annoy her. This woman, he decided, had gotten her way for too long. She needed someone to put her in her place.

“Very well, you may go to London,” she announced suddenly. “I shall go with you. In fact, I shall take you. And when we find Susan, you’ll tell her everything about your cruel plan to marry her for her fortune. You’ll tell her about your attempts to ruin other heiresses, and how you were banished from London by your own father for your wild ways. And you’ll beg her pardon for deceiving her into trusting you.”

Stuart leaned against the bedpost and studied her. She looked quite disheveled, her dark curls falling out of a loose knot and her cloak askew. “That’s the real matter, isn’t it? You’re upset she trusted me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. She was tricked by your lies.”

“You told her to avoid me like the plague, and still she sought me out as soon as your back was turned,” he said as she aimed the pistol again. “This, my dear, smacks of wounded pride.”

“It’s not your pride I’ll wound.” Charlotte wanted to shoot him just to take the smile off his face. How dare he mock her?

“All right. I’ll go to London with you, since you’re holding a pistol on me, and you can satisfy your suspicions that your niece eloped with me—that is what I’m accused of, is it not? And if I’ve lied to you”—he opened his arms in a deceptive gesture of defenselessness—“you may take your revenge in any way you choose.”

“I shall,” vowed Charlotte.

“But if you’re wrong ...” He shook his head, a wicked smile on his lips. “Then I shall get what I want. You. For one night.”

Her heart stuttered for a second. What unbelievable gall. She would never agree to such a thing. Give herself to him for a night! She would sooner give herself to a hungry bear. She swiftly considered the chance that he was telling the truth. But no, it couldn’t be. He had already proven himself a liar and a manipulator, a master of getting his way with women. He had been on the balcony last night with Susan, and Charlotte hadn’t heard a whisper of another man from anyone, not from Susan, not from the servants, not even from the gossips. It had to be Stuart Drake who was responsible for Susan’s disappearance, Stuart Drake who knew where she was or where she was going, and Stuart Drake who had just made a breathtakingly outré suggestion to call her bluff. If he thought she would be intimidated or deterred by such a thing, he was sadly mistaken.

“Fine,” she said coolly. “Let’s be off.”

He was motionless for a moment, staring at her. Then he turned back to the trunk and began throwing things into it left and right. “Give me twenty minutes.”

Charlotte hired a private carriage while Stuart stood chatting with the innkeeper as if he hadn’t a care in the world. She glared at him as she finished counting out the coins. The breeze ruffled his dark hair across his forehead, and a grin curved his sensual mouth; fine lines crinkled around his eyes when he smiled like that, taking the edge off an otherwise wolfish expression.
A friendly wolf
, she thought suddenly,
that’s what he looks like, with his long thin nose and wide mouth
. Except such a thing didn’t exist, and she would do well to remember it.

She watched as the luggage was loaded into the carriage: Stuart’s enormous trunk and her small valise. She had hired a boy to take a note to her house, and Lucia had sent three gowns, all her new lingerie, and a fortune in jewels. What Lucia thought she would do with evening gowns and diamonds, Charlotte couldn’t guess, but she couldn’t leave and go pack for herself. If she relaxed her guard for a moment, he would be able to send word ahead to Susan, and Charlotte wasn’t taking a chance of that. He made a show of offering to help her into the carriage, but she kept a firm grip on the pistol and waved him in ahead of her.

She sat across from Stuart, where she could keep her eyes on him, and he infuriated her by dropping his hat over his eyes and going to sleep. She almost fired the gun out the window, just to restore a little healthy respect to his demeanor, but since she didn’t have a second loaded pistol, she decided against disarming herself just for the satisfaction of scaring him.

They lurched and bumped toward London as the daylight waned. Charlotte allowed them to stop for only the quickest of meals, and Stuart woke up to accuse her of starving him. “This is a very poor kidnapping, if you ask me,” he said, contemplating the apple and hunk of bread she handed him. “You might have at least brought along a hamper.”

“This is not a picnic.” Charlotte ate her own apple with one hand. Her wrist ached, but she wouldn’t put down the pistol. For all his appearance of casual indolence, he might just be biding his time. And if he disarmed her, God only knew what he would do to retaliate.

Not that he seemed to care about it, one way or the other. He just lounged on his seat, watching her. As the light faded, the shadows slanted through the carriage and made him appear more feral and dangerous, with only his eyes, and occasionally his teeth, gleaming in the dark.

“Go back to sleep,” she snapped at last. He chuckled.

“You don’t like to be watched, do you?” She glared at him. He nodded thoughtfully. “I thought not. Odd, really, since you aren’t exactly the quiet, inconspicuous type. Not in that dress, at any rate.”

Charlotte clenched her fist to keep from twitching her cloak over her bronze gown. She would not let him rattle her that easily. “My attire is purely my own concern.”

He grinned. “Oh, I wasn’t complaining. I rather like it. Particularly the gown you wore to the Kildairs’ party. Lovely.”

Charlotte, who knew full well that dress displayed her figure to its best advantage, sniffed. “I thought you found it rather drab, if your sudden interest in removing it was any indication.”

“You don’t know much about men if you think I wasn’t interested,” countered Stuart with deliberate innuendo. “I’ve dreamed of seeing you in that dress again.”

“Every man may have his dreams, I suppose.”

“Oh, yes I do.” His teeth gleamed in his wicked smile. “Most of them don’t involve you
in
a dress, though. Shall I tell you about those?”

Charlotte laughed in disbelief. “You have no shame.”

He lifted one shoulder. “Not much, anyway. It gets in one’s way. I thought you would have figured that out by now. Besides, you were the one who decreed an end to the lies between us. I’m merely following your wishes.”

“My wishes?” she exclaimed. “I think it was your wishes—your wildly impossible wishes—you were discussing.”

“I find them highly possible, since when you lose our wager ...” His eyes drifted down, and Charlotte realized her body had responded again to his voice, soft and growling. A memory of all the things he said he’d like to do to her came vividly to mind, and gave her an inner tremor. She was suddenly acutely aware of the rocking of the carriage, and the way his body was sprawled across the opposite seat, one foot propped beside her. He reclined with his hands folded over his stomach, totally at his ease as he watched her watching him.

“It’s a long ride to London,” he said in that low, gravelly voice that acted on her like a physical caress. “Shall we surrender to the inevitable?”

“It’s not inevitable,” she retorted, disgusted to hear how husky her own voice had become. Why was she always attracted to the worst possible men?

One corner of his mouth quirked up. “You know it is. Have you ever made love in a carriage?”

Charlotte tried to quell the heat rising in her body. “Yes, I have,” she said as carelessly as possible. She was an experienced woman, after all, not some naïve girl who would fall for his seduction. “I didn’t much care for it.”

White-hot desire flared in his gaze. “Come here, then, and allow me to persuade you otherwise.” He extended one hand toward her. Charlotte turned away, refusing to look at him. “It’s a long ride,” he coaxed. Unfortunately her gaze landed on his lap, where his arousal was clear beneath his tailored trousers. Her mouth went dry and she squirmed a little in her seat, horrified that she was aroused, too. Was he saying it was a long trip to London to sit in discomfort, or offering her another sort of long ride?

“If you say another insulting word, I’ll shoot you after all.”

He laughed. “Admit it, Charlotte, you want me. You want me as much as I want you.”

“I most certainly do not,” she snapped. “You conceited, amoral, lying, thieving—”

“I didn’t say you
wanted
to want me, only that you do.” He sounded too damn amused.

“I want you to tell me where Susan is. After that, I shall be very happy never to set eyes on you again.”

“That’s not very good motivation for me to tell you, is it?”

Charlotte lifted the pistol, shaking with fury. “You bastard!”

“Hey!” Alarm suddenly colored his voice, and he ducked as she pointed the weapon directly between his eyes. “Be careful!”

“Where is she?” she shouted.

“Damned if I know!” he yelled back, arms still thrown up defensively around his head. “Put the pistol down!”

For a mad moment Charlotte held the gun in place. Then she realized what she was doing and lowered it abruptly, unable to believe she had fallen so far. It was one thing to wave the pistol around and threaten to shoot him, and another to put the barrel to his head. She huddled in her cloak, trying to hide her trembling. She had endangered someone’s life. She wanted to fling the pistol out the window, but then she would be left defenseless, and might never find Susan. That, above all, must guide her actions: finding Susan.

“I just want my niece back,” she said unevenly. “I don’t want to shoot you, but you have to tell me where she is. Once I have her back, I don’t care about anything else. Tell me now, I beg you.”

“I’ve told you I don’t know.” His voice rang with frustration.

Charlotte closed her eyes. “I don’t believe you.”

BOOK: Caroline Linden

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