Sari Robins (13 page)

Tess giggled. Heath chuckled. Together they laughed, carefree and giddy, running as if the devil himself was at their heels.

H
eath was laughing and out of breath as he and Tess approached the ballroom once more. The sounds of the orchestra and the buzz of the crowd grew louder with each footstep.

As Heath dropped the shawl on a nearby table, he realized that joining the throng was the last thing in the world he wanted to do. Tess’s nearness was a heady reminder of the intensity of her passion and the desire she inspired. And his member still throbbed with unrequited need. So instead of heading back into the very public ballroom, Heath steered Tess down a carpeted hallway away from the crowds.

Tess’s blue gaze was questioning, but she silently followed his lead.

Heath opened the first door they came to. Upon seeing that the drawing room was empty, he gently propelled her inside. He closed the door, instantly muting the sounds of the orchestra and the hum of the crowd.

In the quiet room he turned to her.

Tess’s skin was flushed, her blue eyes sparkling. Her hair was a wild mess of crimson curls and haphazard white pearls. Her peach-colored lips were parted, and her luscious breasts rose and fell with each breathless pant. She couldn’t have looked more delectable.

He wanted her. Badly. More than any other woman, ever. He wanted to take Tess and make her his. The need was so great, he had little thought for anything else. He knew that he should be demanding answers about what she was doing in the countess’s bedroom, knew that he shouldn’t be allowing his passion to rule him. But she was so achingly close and the honeyed scent of her was so overwhelming.

He needed to touch her, taste her, feel her…

Tess stared up at him, wonder in her eyes, soon replaced by a hint of apprehension in the tense silence. Blinking, she turned away, scanning the room. “I must look a fright.”

She moved to stand before the window and using the reflection, raised her arms to fix her hair.

Striding up behind her, Heath gently grasped her hands. “Don’t.”

Her hands stilled, coiled in his.

He could feel her confusion in her every intake of breath.

“Heath.” She swallowed. “What happened back there…I think—”

“Don’t.” Spinning her to face him, he grabbed her
waist and drew her body to him. She was soft in all the right places. The scents of lavender and desire beckoned.

His lips curled into a smile. She was incredible. And she was about to be his.

His mouth lowered, but he hovered a mere inch from her lips, savoring the moment. The anticipation was almost as heady as touching her. Their breaths mixed and he inhaled her sweet scent.

Slowly his head lowered and he savored the taste of her. She was like wine: heady, sweet, and intoxicating. His tongue delved deeper, making love to her mouth as he’d so desperately wanted to do in that little closet moments before.

She clung to him, groaning slightly as her body melted into his.

Triumph surged through him.
She’s mine!

His hands roved, relishing the strength of her back, the lushness of her bottom. He kneaded the soft flesh, desire spiking through him, its urgency overpowering him. He had to have her.
Now
.

“Mr. Bartlett!” a distant voice called.

“Mr. Bartlett!” There it was again, nagging.

“Heath!”

Blinking, Heath opened his eyes. He tore his lips from Tess’s, gasping for breath.

Solicitor-General Dagwood stood in the threshold, his face a dark mask of fury. “Finally! I was starting to wonder if I was going to have to call for the fire brigade!” Dagwood was incensed. His brows were lowered, his square jaw locked into a disapproving line,
but it was his eyes that were most unsettling—they blazed like black coals of rage.

“Sir!” Heath’s voice was a rasp.

“Remove yourself from that woman, at once!”

Heath was torn over what to do, but his respect for Dagwood and concern for Tess’s reputation won out.

He slowly disengaged, unwrapping his arms from her but grasping her silky shoulders. She was a bit wobbly on her feet, but the sight of Dagwood glaring at her stiffened her spine. She went from supple softness to rigid iron in mere seconds. She was no longer the fiery woman he’d been kissing; her face closed and her lids hooded and she became as icy as her diamonds. If he weren’t so shocked he would have been fascinated.

She moved away from Heath. His hand on her shoulders slid off with obvious reluctance. She gave Dagwood a long, hard stare, as if to say,
I’m not the least bit afraid of you,
then turned and stepped over to a side door. Not speaking a word, she opened the entry and slipped out without a second glance. The exit closed with a resounding thud behind her.

“Have you gone mad?” Dagwood stepped deeper into the room and jabbed his cane like a sword.

Straightening his clothing, Heath swallowed.

“Have you lost sight of everything we’ve worked for?” Spinning on his heel, Dagwood began to pace. “I thought more of you, man!”

Mortification washed through Heath; Dagwood’s good opinion meant the world to him. And how could
he explain? He knew better, but when Tess was near, it seemed hard to care.

Mayhap she was an enchantress.

Dagwood paced, his heels clicking on the hard wooden floors. “Granted, with a face like that and a shape like hers, she could charm the devil…but lust is not love, and it is no foundation for a marriage. For it
will
fail.”

“Sir, I—”

“You’ve got a respectable, good girl to court, a chance at a real marriage with a strong future.”

“I know. But—”

Shaking his head, Dagwood opened his hands. “Have you no thought for what that chit could cost you? She wears scandal like a second skin! She’s trouble, through and through!”

From the other side of the doorway, Tess listened, and tears burned her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. But she wiped away the tears with the backs of her hands, impatient with her agony. She deserved it. She’d opened up to Heath, oh God, she’d been his for the taking. She was a stupid little fool. Scandal clung to her like rotten leaves in mud. She would forever be tarnished by her husband and all that society painted her to be.

“Start thinking with your other head, man!” Dagwood charged. “She’ll only soil you and your reputation. Word is she caused Lord Berber’s death and then her husband’s.”

Tess seethed with impotent anger at the terrible lie that wouldn’t die.

“But even if the gossip isn’t to be believed, the reality is that her husband was a double-dealing, cheating knave, and she had to know what kind of character he was when she married him.”

Tess felt the mortification burn in its usual spot between her breasts. It lived there like a viper, ready to strike her at any moment. Yet at times like these the acuteness of its bite stole the breath from her throat. Dagwood was right: Tess should have known better. She should have been more discerning in choosing her mate. She’s been so swept up in passion, so blind to Quentin’s true character, so passively accepting of all that was happening to her…

She swallowed, angry with herself and Dagwood and…

Why wasn’t Heath defending her? Or at least saying
something
useful? His silence was beginning to feel like condemnation.

Dagwood went on relentlessly, “Obviously she and her husband deserved each other. But for you to get trapped in her web like a greenhorn! Where’s your sense, man? You’re begging for a scandal! And at a time when you must preserve your reputation most assiduously!”

Leaning back against the hard wooden door, Tess tried to fathom what Heath might be thinking. He hadn’t intended it to happen, any more than she. They were innocent really, if one considered good intentions. And they hadn’t really gone that far…

Oh, whom was she trying to fool? It had been hot, salacious, and definitely scandalous! She just prayed
that the solicitor-general would keep his mouth sealed. At the very least Heath should try to convince the man to keep quiet. Why wasn’t he saying anything?

Moving closer to the crack in the door, Tess pressed her ear to the wood and listened.

“What were you thinking, man?” Dagwood cried.

“I wasn’t,” Heath finally spoke. “I lost my head.”

“That’s obvious! But you’re supposed to be investigating the chit, not plowing her!”

Plowing me?
She withheld a snort.

Investigating?
She stiffened. Her heart began to race as the words sank in.

Swallowing her fear, she pressed her ear harder to the door.

“Nothing’s changed,” Heath assured.

“Except that you’ve lost sight of your goals.”

“I haven’t lost sight of anything, sir. The investigation is progressing. I am accepted at the Society for the Enrichment and Learning of Females. It’s going well.”

Heath’s spying on me?

Her heart was beating so fast, her head swam. Her mind scrambled to keep up with the implications. She was being investigated. By officers of the Crown. The solicitor-general was in charge of an inquiry against her and it was being executed by Heath Bartlett, scheming betrayer.

The ramifications knocked the breath from her throat.

Could Heath know about her work for the Foreign Office? Why would the solicitor-general be
scrutinizing the Foreign Office? Was it intergovernmental politics or something more sinister afoot? Or was it simply something personal to her? What in heaven’s name had she done wrong to invite this examination?

Her heart raced. Her hands shook. Swallowing, she forced a quiet breath. Then another. She needed more information. Only with that could she understand how serious this truly was.

She pressed her ear so tightly against the door that it pained her.

Heath continued, “I’m looking into her business affairs…”

“And other affairs.” Dagwood snorted.

Tess’s anxiety spiked.
He’s looking into my business affairs? What the blazes is going on here?

She needed to talk to Wheaton.

But he was out of town! Away in the north, Reynolds had said. That left Reynolds as her only contact! The idea of confiding in him repulsed her; she couldn’t trust him. Not with this. Reynolds was a muscle man, no tactician. Tess needed a strategist, someone who could think through the twists and knots of the legal implications and intergovernmental politics. Moreover, she was unsure of what Reynolds would do if she told him, especially what he might do to Heath.

But why should she care? Heath obviously had little concern for her welfare. The man was investigating her! For Lord only knew what purpose! The lying snake! He didn’t deserve her concern!

She wanted to die for having tolerated his touch! And for allowing him to stoke the fires of her passion after it had long thinned to embers! Why, oh why, did it have to be
him
to finally resurrect her desire?

Tess gritted her teeth. She needed to put aside her feelings and understand the implications. More was at stake than her ruptured pride. An inquiry meant there could be a trial, a very
public
affair that would impact her activities for the Foreign Office. And, since now Tess was a woman who considered the worst possibilities, if she was found guilty…

There could be a
hanging.

Tess ignored the chills of fear slithering up her spine and focused on her options. Wheaton was gone. She couldn’t trust Reynolds. It was up to her to take matters into her own hands. To do what, she did not know, but she had faith that it would come to her. She just prayed that it did so quickly.

“I expect results, Bartlett,” Dagwood chided. “I’ve staked my reputation on you! We cannot afford another scandal! We cannot afford anything less than success.”

“Upon my honor, sir, your trust is not misplaced. I will see this matter to the end, and ensure that the guilty party is punished.”

“See that you do.”

Pushing away from the door, Tess strode across the book-lined library, intent on getting away as fast as she could. Apollo’s horses couldn’t get her home fast enough. She needed to think, needed to plan. She
needed to prevent this investigation from harming her. That meant crafting a strategy to protect herself that would also safeguard her work at the Foreign Office, take care of her book business, and insulate the society.

And perhaps while she was at it she might find the time to plan a bit of revenge…

I
t took all night for Tess to decide that Heath Bartlett was the link to all the answers. Oh, she’d come to it quite quickly, but then had talked herself out of it a thousand times before realizing that she wasn’t
just
motivated by a thirst for revenge. She didn’t
simply
hunger to use him as he’d used her. She didn’t
only
want to hurt him as he’d injured her. Nay, since he was investigating her, he would know the underlying reasons for it, who had ordered it, if anyone beyond Dagwood was instigating the nasty business. He would also know who else might be under the scope of the investigation.

She should’ve known that there was more to Heath’s attempts to join the society than a stupid little bet! He was spying on her. No wonder he’d followed her into the countess’s bedroom! That whole business about worrying that she was meeting a lover had been a ruse! Oh, the actor! He should be on Drury Lane!

So this was why Heath had suddenly showed up
in her life again after ten long years! Had the meeting at Andersen Hall Orphanage been a charade? Was he supposed to play on their childhood relationship? Or perhaps on her guilt for having had his father sacked? Had any word that had dripped out of his forked tongue been remotely true? She wanted to scream for the indignity of having cried her heart out to the knave! Wanted to die for having allowed him to touch her as no man had done in years!

For the thousandth time she tried to shove away the mortification eating at her like a parasite. She forced her mind to focus. Heath Bartlett was the link to all the information she needed. She just had to break him.

But how to find out everything without him knowing he was disclosing the facts? How to uncover his information without him appreciating that she knew what he was about?

The first golden rays of dawn had speared through her chamber’s curtains before the truth struck her with an intensity that had her popping straight up in the bed.

Passion. It was his weakness. It caused him to lose his head. He’d admitted so himself.

When it came to desire, he wasn’t able to keep his eyes on his goals. When it came to matters of the flesh he was as weak and malleable as a newborn pup.

She would use this against him. Twist and bind him until he knew not which way he was headed.

And as a bonus, at the end of the matter, she would ensure that everyone knew of their affair. It would be the scandal of the season. It would destroy everything
he’d worked for. His precious reputation would be in tatters. The priggish Miss Penelope Whilom would reject him. Hell, if Tess did a really bang-up job, his boss might actually sack him. His prized political career would be in the jakes.

The possibilities left her positively giddy!

Wheaton would be pleased.

The thought gave her a moment’s pause. Wheaton was a cold-hearted bastard. Could she be the same? He was in a tough business. He’d been through countless challenges that she knew little about, except for his vague allusions. She supposed that it was the situations that had forced him to harden his heart, to stiffen his spine.

Well, she had no choice but to do the same.

An investigation by officers of the Crown was a serious matter. And it was personal. Heath had said that he was looking into her business affairs. Hers. And the fact that the Society for the Enrichment and Learning of Females was involved raised the stakes. Aunt Sophie, Janelle, Ginny, Edwina, Lucy…Too many people could get hurt.

It was up to Tess. Was she up to the challenge?

She had to be.

She had to be willing to do anything…

Anything…

Tess inhaled a shaky breath. Intellectually she understood that this meant seducing or allowing herself to be seduced by Heath. But in her belly, anxiety coiled like a viper. She was attracted to him. Annoyingly so. He was a good kisser…all right, a great kisser. Better
than Quentin had ever been. And Quentin had been pretty darned good.

And those magical fingers…

Her insides stirred just thinking about them and what they’d done to her.

But still, could she pull it off? Now that she knew that he was a lying knave, could she suffer his touch without trying to scratch his eyes out?

Tilting her head, she considered the options.

Perhaps she should get foxed? That might ease her inhibitions. Shaking her head, she pushed aside the idea; she needed to keep her head clear. She could get
him
drunk. That was a nice possibility. Or better yet, what if Heath thought she was in her cups, but she actually wasn’t? He would ask her questions and she would know what he wished to know.

Still, it all felt so…lewd and Delilah-like. It went against the grain, and she really didn’t know if she was up to it. But she had to do something!

Rising, she called for her maid and prepared to dress. She would check on Fiona today at Andersen Hall Orphanage and see if anyone had been asking questions, and if so, about what. And while there, she would look into why Heath had been named as a trustee. An excellent start.

Was Andersen Hall involved? At this point, Tess wasn’t willing to dismiss any possibility, no matter how remote.

Being there would also give her some time to think. Knowing Heath, he would likely try to speak with her this morning. Well, she would be conveniently absent.
Even though it was infantile, the idea pleased her just the same. Heath Bartlett definitely brought out the devil in her. Oh, how she’d love to stab him with a trident right in the rear!

She couldn’t imagine how she would act, what she would say when she finally faced him. All she knew was that she was mad as hops and Heath Bartlett was going to pay.

At Andersen Hall Orphanage Tess was relieved to discover that no one had been asking Fiona about her business. The young assistant had been so shocked by the notion that she would ever discuss Tess’s affairs with anyone that it had taken well over thirty minutes to soothe her injured feelings.

Tess felt exhausted by the exercise. But she’d still called on Catherine Dunn, Headmaster Dunn’s daughter-in-law and now the mistress of the orphanage. Tess was motivated by more than her admiration for Mrs. Dunn, which was quite genuine. She wanted to know how Heath had been named to the orphan-age’s board of trustees.

The visit had been positively excruciating for Tess. She realized that her emotions were raw, like the frayed edge of a rope. Catherine Dunn was so madly, passionately in love with her husband, Major Marcus Dunn, that she positively glowed. It was utterly disgusting.

Tess knew that it was all an illusion set to burst at some point or another. But Major Dunn was a good sort, Tess had to admit. And so was his wife. Tess
couldn’t quite believe the sacrifices she’d made for Andersen Hall. In fact, Catherine Dunn’s example gave Tess a nice idea for a small way to help out Andersen Hall Orphanage…

A feeling of goodness lifted her sprits a bit. Maybe charity was the way to help diminish her anger? But Andersen Hall was run by the
all male
board of trustees,
Heath Bartlett among them
! The conniving, manipulative bastard!

Catherine Dunn had known nothing about Heath’s appointment to the board, leaving trustee matters to her husband.

Men. Why did they always have to be so blasted territorial? Often they acted more akin to wild dogs than civilized adults.

Her father shouldn’t have taken out his rage on his innocent daughter. Quentin shouldn’t have been a lying, cheating knave who stole her inheritance and left her penniless! He was beyond worthless—he was destructive! And that shamefully opportunistic Heath Bartlett! Grasping for more, using her to elevate his standing at the solicitor-general’s office.

Tess made her way down the path toward the stables to take her leave.

Wears scandal like a second skin!
She harrumphed, then tripped on the edge of her skirts.

Righting herself, Tess recognized that she was boiling mad, and as such, a bit unstable. Catherine Dunn had seen it and had asked what was wrong. Even the not very astute Fiona had noticed and asked if Tess was having difficulty with her “monthlies.”

My monthlies! As if I don’t have any other issues to challenge me! Nay, I couldn’t possibly be dealing with a lying betrayer who rouses my passions and makes my insides melt like hot butter!

As the stables neared, Tess’s heart began to race and her palms to sweat. She wasn’t ready to face Heath, or anyone else for that matter. She needed to cool her emotions, find a way to steady her nerves. She needed to be alone, and find that inner calm that had always rescued her in times of need. For at the end of the day, she was the only one she could truly depend upon.

As if of their own volition, Tess’s footsteps turned to the left and headed into the woods. There would be no reminders of Heath or her past or her father or Quentin in the quiet forest. There would be only Mother Nature welcoming Tess into her bosom and giving her the haven that she so desperately required.

Her boots made no sound on the blanket of moss and Tess listened to the birds chirping in the trees. A raven squawked. The air was crisp, but clearly spring was trying to gain a toehold on these woods. The trees were flush with buds and a hint of pine filled the air, along with the unmistakable scent of earth.

Tess scowled. Why couldn’t Heath use one of those fancy scents like otto of roses or Hungary Water that smelled anything but natural? The man vexed, even out here in the copse!

Stepping onto the gnarled roots of an old oak tree,
Tess leaned back against the rough bark and inhaled a deep breath.

I need to be calm. There will always be someone to knock me down or put me out. The key is to be impervious. Not to allow anyone or anything to unsettle me. To accept and forgive myself for how I am and for whatever I’ve done, and ignore the lot of them. No one shall bother me. I am calm personified.

Slowly she sank onto the thick limb and stretched her legs out before her. Crossing her ankles, she inhaled a deep breath, then another. She closed her eyes.

Her heart slowed and her muscles relaxed. Her mind drifted, then cleared, like clouds splitting to reveal the glorious blue sky. A small smile teased her lips. She felt good. Calm. Powerful. In control once more. She wasn’t going to let anything or anyone trouble her.

“There you are!” a familiar voice called.

Tess’s eyes flew open.

Heath came storming down the path, his muscular legs eating up the distance between them like an invading army. His presence was authoritative, a commanding general leading the charge. His gray cape fluttered behind him like a standard, and his dark hair flew like ribbons.

As his black Hessians stomped up the path, he chatted idiotically, “Your butler informed me of where you’d gone and Mrs. Dunn saw you walking this way. It’s a lovely day for a stroll, don’t you think?”

Anger crashed over Tess like an avalanche. All
thought of calm and steadiness evaporated like mist after a summer rain.

At the look on her face, the smile fell away from his lips. “I can see that you’re upset. And understandably so. Dagwood’s interruption was a bit…inopportune…” His smile was self-effacing, and wholly insincere.

Tess jumped to her feet, her hands clenched, her anger at full boil.

He stopped mere inches from her. Too close for propriety.

The presumptuous bastard.

“Look, I know it was…dreadfully embarrassing. And, well, Dagwood wasn’t very politic about it.” He grinned as if he’d said something funny. “Dagwood not being politic. Who’d have ever thought?”

Fury consumed her. His face swam before her in a crimson haze, and she had no thought in her head save for how much she hated him. She actually quivered from the force of the fury pounding through her. Her teeth hurt from gritting so hard and her palms stung where her nails bit into them.

His made a face. “I know it’s not amusing. I’m sorry about that. Dagwood coming in on us was dreadful actually. But it wasn’t really so terrible, now was it?” His hands grasped her arms and he smiled down at her, his eyes questioning.

Her gaze fell to the hands gripping her upper arms. She looked up and snarled.

She felt the stinging burn as her palm met his face.

His head jerked back but he didn’t let her go.

Her hand lifted for another blow, but he grabbed her wrist. “Don’t!”

Struggling against his viselike grip, she raised her other hand for another shot. He grabbed that one, too. Clenching her wrists like iron cuffs, he shook her. “Stop it!”

She growled.

Pulling her close, he hugged her, enveloping her in a prison of his arms. “Come on, Tess! Don’t!”

She was panting, hard. His words and his hard body pressed against hers reminded her of the passion they’d shared. White-hot fury flashed, and she struggled against him.

But his grip was too strong. He hugged her close, his hard muscles encasing her in a cocoon of iron.

“Tess, please!”

She looked up at him then. “I hate you.”

“Really?” he gritted out. “I’m not feeling so well disposed to you at the moment, either!”

“Release me!”

“Have you calmed down?”

“Enough.”

After a long moment, he let her go. She stepped back and punched him in the chest so hard that her fist stung.

“What the blazes is wrong with you?” he cried, his hand pressed to his chest.

“You! I can’t stand you. Or your touch!”

Reaching for her, he pulled her close. “Really?” He raised a brow.

His lips pressed down, crushing hers. It was like ig
niting a rocket inside her. The violence of her passion exploded, shocking her with its intensity. She quaked, overcome by the force of a primal need that only he seemed able to inspire.

Her mouth opened to his with a groan. Her body flamed. Her head swam. The red haze of her anger was gone, transformed into a scorching flame of desire that enveloped her in its fire.

His tongue delved into her mouth and she welcomed it, demanding more. Growling with the ferocity of her hunger for him, she bit his lip, tasting blood.