How I Married a Marquess (16 page)

Something about the somber way he said that, with an intense flash of regret deep in his blue eyes, made her shiver, and she instinctively knew deep down in her bones that he was telling the truth. Her heart pounded like a drum, so hard that the rush of blood through her ears was deafening.

“Why tell me? I'm a criminal, remember?” She would have been a fool to think she was special enough to him to warrant disclosure of such a secret. No, if anything, he'd admitted it only to set her off-balance and make arresting her easier. “Aren't you afraid I'll tell everyone?”

Answering her challenge, he leaned forward one inch more, to brush his lips against the corner of her mouth in passing as he brought his mouth to her ear. “No one would believe you.”

With an exasperated scowl, she shoved him away.
No one would believe you
.
The same words she'd flung at him so confidently after the robbery. Apparently she and Thomas Matteson were two of a kind.

He rocked back, folded his arms, and smoothly resumed his original position perched on the windowsill. His gleaming eyes reminded her of a panther's…right before it pounced. “I spent all last night thinking about you, Josephine.”

Her foolish heart skipped. He'd thought about her?

But she wasn't naïve enough to think he meant he'd thought about
her
. No, he meant the robberies, although she couldn't deny the stab of disappointment in her chest. Because she'd certainly spent all night thinking about him.

She shifted onto her heels, just out of the reach of his hands should he decide to touch her again, because she wasn't certain she'd be able to find the strength to push him away next time. “And what did you conclude?”

His dark gaze turned grave. For all the raw attraction between them, they were still adversaries, still caught up in a dangerous game of cat and mouse. “That there's no way out of this mess for you. The best you can do is stop and pray no one else ever discovers you. Rather than arresting you, I'll convince the earl that the highwayman has stopped targeting his guests and moved on.”

“And let Royston and the families get away with what they've done to those children?”
Never
.
She'd rather be behind bars than let the earl continue to exploit the orphanage and leave the children to suffer alone. “I won't stop.”

Thomas shook his head, and she saw irritation equal to her own rise inside him. “And you think it's all because of political favors?”

“Yes.”

He scoffed at that. “Royston's an important man in Parliament, has been for years. What kind of favors could a man of his rank and reputation gain from an orphanage in Lincolnshire?”

“I don't know. Whatever he needs, I suppose.”

His dubious expression deepened. “But you have no hard evidence, do you? Or you would have already gone to the authorities yourself.”

Frustration clenched in her belly. “What kind of evidence would I—”

The words choked in her throat, and she shook her head, the pent-up frustration roiling inside her at this argument waged in hushed tones and whispers so no one would overhear when what she wanted to do was
scream
! Instead of dragging her down to the local gaol
, Thomas was giving her a chance to prove herself. She should have taken hope from that, but she didn't have the proof he wanted. And he knew it, too.

“He
is
guilty!” she insisted.

“You have no proof of your accusations. No letters, no notes—nothing to prove his guilt.”

“Of course I don't have anything like that. Why would I?” Damn him for not believing her! And damn those sapphire eyes that noticed far too much about her but refused to see the truth about Royston. “How could I?”

“Then how do you know whom to target?”

“The orphanage records.” Her chest tightened hollowly with sharp disappointment that he would so readily doubt her and so easily trust Royston. “They list the details of each baby, including the names of the men who surrendered them to the orphanage.”

“The fathers' names?” Incredulity edged his voice.

“No, of course not. Grooms or footmen, men employed by the babies' families. Once I have their names, it's easy to connect them to the estates where they work. It only takes a bit more digging among the servants to learn about the pregnancies. And if I dig deep enough, I can usually discover that Royston was given a favor in return.”

“But nothing you can hand over to the authorities.” Not a question. An accusation.

She clenched her hands into angry fists. “You still don't believe me.”

“Royston is a longtime family friend and my father's ally in Parliament, and I have never witnessed him doing anything remotely scandalous or illegal. While you…” His words trailed off.

“While you saw me holding up a coach,” she finished for him.

He said nothing to contradict her. He didn't have to; the expression on his face spoke volumes.

Her frustration rose to the breaking point.
Enough
!
She'd had enough of living with fear and guilt during the past two years since the robberies began, and during the past four days, she'd had enough of fate dangling him in front of her, toying with her—the man with whom she could never have a future. “Then arrest me and get it over—”

“Damnation!” He ran a hand through his hair, his fingers shaking violently. “I don't want to arrest you, but
Christ
, Jo, you broke the law. It's a hanging offense!” Each whispered word came ground out through clenched teeth, and all of him shook now, as violently as he had that morning in the stables. “I want to help you, but—”

“But you can't without proof.” The man sent her head spinning! Her eyes blurred with angry tears. “Then perhaps you should have spent the night sleeping instead of thinking of me.” She turned to leave. “Good-bye.”

Launching himself off the sill, he chased after her and reached her just as her fingers touched the door. He grabbed her arm and pulled her back, her body falling against his. She was immediately aware of his hardness against her softness, the heat of his hand seeping into her arm through the cotton sleeve of her dress, the strength of his fingers refusing to let her go. She trembled, and her breath came in shallow pants that matched his own.

“I don't spend my nights sleeping,” he confessed quietly, his eyes focusing heatedly on her mouth.

She stared at him, speechless, even as her heart began to race so hard she feared he might feel it. Was that an invitation to share his bed?
Good Lord
, it couldn't be! Not from a rake like him, not to an innocent like her. And yet, as the predatory gleam in his eyes ripped her breath away, a part of her very much longed for it to be.

“I want to help you,” he repeated, his mouth so close to hers that the warmth of his breath shivered across her lips. “But without proof of wrongdoing by Royston—”

“Which you don't believe,” she forced out.

Anger flared in his eyes. “Or
any
proof to show that you were acting in good faith, I have to arrest you. I have no choice, not if you continue with the robberies.”

“Of course you do,” she protested, hating the pleading she heard laced through her voice. “You can choose to forget you ever saw me last night.”

“No,” he corrected solemnly, anguished desolation flashing across his face. “I can't.”

Her lips parted as she stared at him, stunned. The desperation inside him was palpable. So was the pain.

“That's the choice, Josephine.” He briefly squeezed his eyes shut. “You or me, your life or mine.”

“What?” she breathed, the anger inside her replaced by sudden fear. For him. “What do you—”

“If you're right, I will help you and protect you. But without proof…” He shook his head. “I have no choice but to believe Royston.”

And arrest you
.
The silent words hung between them as loudly as if he'd shouted them.

“Then I'll find proof,” she whispered, unable to shake the peculiar suspicion that the proof she needed to save herself would also end up saving him. “Somehow.”

“No more robberies,” he ordered firmly.

“I won't promise that.”

He cursed beneath his breath. “If you get caught—”

“I won't.”

Impulsively she rose onto her tiptoes and touched her lips to his. A quick kiss, chaste and prim, meant only to silence his argument.

But as she lowered herself away, he groaned and clutched her tightly to him. Unwilling to let her go, he kicked the door closed behind them, sealing them together in the room.

His mouth descended hungrily against hers and ignited the innocent kiss into a full-out plunder as his tongue shoved between her lips and ravished her mouth. Each thrust of his tongue claimed another bit of her resistance, until with a soft whimper she wilted against his hard chest.

His trembling hands skimmed down her back to cup her bottom and lift her against him. “Thomas,” she moaned against his mouth.

“You're the most frustrating woman I've ever met, Josephine.” His voice was a throaty rasp as he tore his mouth away from hers to bite at her shoulder, each sharp nip of his teeth making her shudder. “The most challenging, the most infuriating…” He rested his palm against her cheek and lifted his head to stare into her eyes. “And the most beautiful.”

Then he kissed her again, his mouth molding against hers, possessive and hot, and with so much yearning that he stole her breath away. The tidal wave of emotions he crashed through her sent her reeling until she could do nothing more than cling to him, her arms wrapped tight around his neck, not wanting to let him go.

Pressing her back against the door, he roughly fisted her skirt and tugged it up, bunching it and the thin stay beneath between their bodies. She shivered, not with cold or nervousness but with an aching need that flared low in her belly, a need that crept lower between her thighs as her skirt rose higher.

“I've wanted to touch you since the first moment I laid eyes on you,” he murmured hotly against her ear, each word a breath that swirled through her and caressed her from the inside out.

He slipped his hand beneath her skirt and brushed his fingers across the lace-hemmed tops of her stockings just above her knees, not daring to move closer to the tingling ache throbbing between her legs. Goose bumps sprouted across her flesh in the wake of his warm caresses, and a shiver of longing rushed through her.

The tip of his tongue traced the outer curve of her ear, eliciting a shudder from her as he enticed temptingly, “You want that, too, don't you? To be caressed the way a beautiful woman like you deserves.” He placed a soft kiss against the tender flesh behind her ear. “And touched just a bit wickedly.”

Sweet heavens, how much she wanted that! “Yes,” she confessed, the word barely a sound on her trembling lips.

His finger slipped teasingly beneath her stocking and claimed a caress against her bare thigh. “Then let me touch you, Jo.”

She should have stopped him, knowing how dangerous he was for her, this man who could end her life with just a word to the constable, but her body ached for him with a primal need she'd never known before. As a pulsing heat swelled between her thighs, she couldn't find the strength to push him away.

“Yes,” she whispered her surrender. “Please.”

His body relaxed with a sigh of relief against her temple, and her heart stuttered. Had he been worried she might refuse? As if she could have possibly rejected the waves of pleasure lapping at her toes from each of his kisses or the flutters of electricity fanning out from his hands wherever they touched her.

“How do you do this to me?” he murmured as he trailed his mouth across her throat. She was certain he could feel her racing pulse beneath his lips, knew what the anticipation of his touch was doing to her. His fingers combed teasingly through the curly triangle between her legs, so close yet still so frustratingly far from touching her where she longed to be caressed. “Both calming and exciting me at the same time, the way no other woman ever has.”

Sucking in a ragged breath, she closed her eyes and lost herself in the delicious humming of her blood through her body, in the heat seeping out from beneath his fingertips and radiating down her legs. His hand was scandalously close to the moist heat at her center, and God help her, she longed for him to touch her there, right where she throbbed wantonly with each beat of her pounding heart.

“You make me ache to be inside you, Josephine.” He tenderly touched his lips to hers. “Right here.”

His fingers slid down into her cleft, burying gently in her folds.

Gasping against his mouth, she grabbed on to the hard muscles of his shoulders to keep her knees from buckling beneath her. He teased against her, making her shiver deliciously as he fondled her with both tenderness and arousal, making her feel absolutely wicked and wanton and wonderful, all at the same time.
Oh sweet heavens
!
His touch felt so good, and she wasn't the least bit ashamed as she shifted to open her legs wider. Judging from the masculine groans coming from his throat, he enjoyed caressing her just as much as she did, taking pleasure in the way her body had grown hot and wet beneath his fingers.

“You have no idea how much I want you, Josephine.” He lowered his head and licked the tip of his tongue into the valley between her breasts. “How much I want to touch and taste every inch of you.”

With a throaty moan, her head rolled back at the sweet torture of his fingers playing across the slick folds between her thighs and at the boldness of his words. His finger slid down along her folds, then slipped smoothly inside her.

Her heart leapt into her throat. Heavens, he was
inside
her!

“What are you doing?” she asked, suddenly nervous, her lips thick with arousal. Those clever fingers of his were doing all kinds of wonderfully wanton things as he plunged and swirled and retreated in a steady but demanding rhythm until the throbbing ache inside her matched his tempo.