The Saint Who Stole My Heart: A Regency Rogues Novel (32 page)

He’d made the right decision. He knew it in his heart, even if his mind refused to see reason.

Monse, the street urchin that he’d employed to keep an eye on Smeade, suddenly burst through the door of James and Mulroy, his scrawny legs moving faster than Nicholas would have thought possible as he crossed the street, dodged a hackney, and careered around an island of rhododendron bushes before reaching the park bench.

“All right?” Nicholas asked dryly, looking the boy up and down.

The youth bent over and braced his hands against his knees, gulping down large breaths of air. “Those coves don’t like my type in their establishment, that’s for sure.”

Of course, Nicholas already knew this. But he’d needed someone who wouldn’t immediately consider blackmail if Smeade revealed anything useful. And it hadn’t hurt that the boy was extremely slight for his age. No one noticed the poor. And the smallest of the poor? Even less noteworthy.

“They didn’t hurt you, did they?” Nicholas asked, having noted no blood on the boy earlier, but aware that bruises would not show themselves for a bit.

The boy stood erect, though he continued to breathe hard. “Those slow blokes? They’d have to catch me first.”

“And the man I asked you to keep an eye on?” He smiled, revealing blackened, chipped teeth. “That’ll cost ya, guv.”

Nicholas reached into his waistcoat pocket and produced several coins, watching the boy’s eyes dance and light with greed. “Four now,” he replied, offering four sixpence. “And four once you’ve told me the details.”

“Fair enough,” the youth agreed, shoving the coins
into a pouch that hung around his neck, then tucking it protectively beneath his torn shirt. “Seems the swell is missing his money.”

“That, I knew,” Nicholas answered, eyeing the boy warily. “I do hope you’ve more. Otherwise I’ll be needing my coins back.”

The boy clutched at the pouch desperately and held up a hand. “I’m not trying to pull caps with you. There’s more. Plenty more.”

Nicholas gestured for the boy to sit down next to him and gave him what remained of an eel pie.

The boy accepted it with a tilt of his cap and dove into the pie, taking an enormous bite. “He’s none too happy, I can tell you that,” he began, bits of flaky pastry flying as he spoke. “Seems he’s wantin’ to take a trip real bad—only he needed the blunt for this trip. No blunt, no travelin’. Kept going on about how the bank had made a mistake. And the mister in charge kept telling him that it was impossible. They never make mistakes. He showed your man some notes, and then added up what was left in his account.”

Nicholas watched as the boy finished the food and wiped his face and hands with the oil-soaked paper. “And what was the amount?”

“Cleaned out, sir. Your man’s out of money. That’s when the yellin’ started. Scared a woman right out of her hat, it did. Your man screaming that they might as well have killed him for all the good they’d done. And the one in charge yellin’ back that he’d look into what had happened if the bloke would just shut his trap. But your man came right back at him, claiming they’d never figure it out—couldn’t be done.”

The urchin looked off in the distance, as if he could see Smeade’s face, hovering before him. “He’d the look of a dead man, he did. So scared and all. Said they’d
find him facedown in the Thames. Food for the fish, he’d be.”

The boy shuddered from fright. “And I believed him. Ain’t never seen a man so scared for his life—and I’ve seen plenty of men scared, sir. Anyway, that’s when one of them clerks spotted me. I ran out of there as fast as I could, seeing as I’d be no use to you if they caught me. I hope that’s enough to make you happy, sir.”

Nicholas dropped the second set of coins into the boy’s hands. “More than you’ll ever know.”

“You look absolutely beautiful.”

Elena peered up from her ledger and smiled expectantly, watching Dash walk out from behind the wall of trunks assembled in the library. He stopped in front of the large table tucked away in the corner of the room and offered her a rose.

Elena uttered an “O” of surprise when she realized it was a wild dog rose and held it to her nose. “Please, say it again.”

Dash came round behind her chair and bent down. “You look absolutely beautiful,” he whispered in her ear.

His breath teased her lobe and she giggled. “Thank you.”

“No thank-you is needed, Elena. I was simply stating a fact.” He reached down and gently pulled her from the seat until she was wrapped in his arms.

She rested her cheek on his chest. “But I never believed it before. Not when my father told me, nor when Lady Mowbray said so. But now,” she paused, looking up into his face and feeling nothing else but the single most powerful force of love. “Now I believe that I am beautiful—I
know
I am. Because of you.”

“Well, I think anyone who knew the truth of the matter would point out how lucky I am to have been saved
from my meaningless existence by you—but I will hardly pass up the opportunity to come out the hero in all of this,” he replied, smiling down at her.

“Shall we agree to disagree?” Elena suggested, tightening her embrace.

“Absolutely.”

“Perfect,” she said, clearly pleased. “I do enjoy a good compromise—especially when I am the one who offered it,” she added saucily.

Dash lowered his head and brushed a warm kiss against her lips. “You are taking full credit, then?”

Elena pulled him back for a second kiss, boldly running her tongue along the seam of his mouth.

Dash growled low in his throat and his arms tightened, gently crushing her breasts against his chest.

Her mind hazed, the world narrowing to nothing but delicious sensation and rising heat. And then she realized just what the man was up to and pulled back. “Dash, why are you here?”

“Can’t a man enjoy a bit of time in his library with the woman he loves?” he countered, attempting to reel her back in.

She placed her palms firmly against his chest and refused his lips. “I believe you’re trying to seduce me.”

“Well, yes. I would have thought that was fairly obvious,” he answered pragmatically, one hand stroking lower to cup her buttock.

The pressure from his palm felt so, so right. She pulsed with a surge of need and lust, then leaned in and grasped his shoulders, a moan escaping her lips.

“No. Wait!” Elena insisted, barely managing to reclaim her wits before pushing him away. “Tell me the truth. Why are you here?”

Dash looked at her as though she were insane.

“Dash,” Elena ground out, her frustration growing.

He stopped caressing her bottom and moved his hand
back to her waist. “Are you quite sure you want to attend the ball tonight?”

“Really, Dash. The answer is yes—the same as it was yesterday. And the day before that. The Furies themselves could not keep me from Lord Elgin’s ball tonight.”

Dash gently rubbed her back between her shoulder blades. “And what of Smeade? Could the man keep you from the evening’s festivities?”

Elena closed the narrow space between them and hugged him reassuringly. “Please, Dash. We have been over this time and time again. Nicholas will be following the man the entire time. I could not be safer anywhere than I will be with you at the ball.”

“You have no idea what it was like for me, Elena,” Dash replied, hugging her more tightly. “If he managed to get his hands on you again …”

Elena looked into his eyes, the pain she saw in the intense blue twisting her heart. “I will not tempt fate,” she promised, capturing his beloved face with her hands. “I promise.”

He lowered his head and took her lips in a tender, sacred kiss.

Elena treasured the feel of him against her, his powerful body a protective, sheltering bulwark. “Lady Mowbray informed me that her sisters will be in attendance this evening, so we’ve the unified strength of the Furies, should we find ourselves in need of it.”

Elena watched his face, amused as he attempted to form a reply.

“Speechless, then?” she asked, caressing his cheek.

“Quite so.”

She decided to put to use an academic study from a set of library books she’d found in her father’s collection one long-ago summer.

Elena gently kissed his mouth, then trailed her lips lower down his body, landing soft, wet pecks on the
strong column of his neck, dipping lower to his chest, where she tugged at his shirt with her teeth.

Dash’s breath came faster, harder, his hands lifting to her tangled tresses.

Elena pushed him back against the trunks and reached for his breeches. She fumbled with the buff material and his smalls, then pulled both down until they skimmed the top of his boots. She slowly dropped to her knees and tentatively reached out, running her fingers worshipfully from his trim waist to his muscular thighs.

“Elena,” he uttered in a throaty plea, as if begging for mercy.

She smiled up at him, then reached around and caressed the expanse of his skin where his back met his buttocks, dipping lower to playfully score the sensitive area.

Dash started at the unexpected act, his hands moving to brace himself against Elena’s shoulders. “You are torturing me; you do know that, do you not?”

“I disagree, my lord,” Elena countered wickedly, then leaned in close and licked the velvety tip of his shaft. “The torture is only beginning,” she warned.

Placing her hands on his hips, Elena took him in her mouth and swirled her tongue around the length of him.

Dash released her shoulders and frantically reached for the trunks behind him. Finding the leather straps affixed to the sides of the cases, he grabbed tight to one with each hand and held on.

Elena interpreted this as a good sign and continued on, delicately sucking as she moved her mouth up and down the shaft, allowing her teeth to lightly graze the skin. She placed one hand on his testicles, caressing them before gently squeezing.

The trunks behind Dash began to shake from the force of his grip.

Elena quickened her pace, sucking intensely and applying a touch more pressure with her teeth.

Dash’s head rolled back against the cases, and he groaned deeply, the sound echoing in his throat.

She released him and sat up on her knees, proudly watching his face contort with exquisite pleasure.

She held out her hand and beckoned for him to join her on the carpet.

He tugged his breeches and smalls up until they hugged his hips, then accepted her hand as he slid down the trunks, coming to rest with his back against the solid leather. “You must tell me, where did you learn to pleasure a man so thoroughly? You are remarkably skilled. And understand that I’m not complaining, mind you.” His voice was rough as he pulled her into his arms.

Elena smiled, and then kissed him before settling in next to him. “You’re not questioning my virtue, are you, Lord Carrington?”

“Never,” he replied. “The thought would never have entered my mind. I’m just curious, is all.”

“Books.”

He took a lock of her hair between his fingers and twined it around his forefinger. “Books?”

“Yes, books. You know, of course, that reading is an integral part of my existence—as is learning,” Elena answered seriously. “And when I happened upon a stash of certain instructional texts in my father’s library one summer, well, I wasn’t about to let them go unread. You cannot even imagine the information contained within those books—positions and breathing techniques and so much more.”

He leaned back to look down at her, his expression stunned. “Are you teasing me?”

Elena sniffed and gave him an offended look. “Absolutely not, my lord. There is nothing that a book cannot teach you—even the ways of love.”

Dash’s full, firm lips stretched into a delighted smile. “God, Elena. Did you say ‘love’?”

Heat bloomed and Elena was sure her face was blushing pink. She lowered her lashes, concealing her eyes.

Dash reached out and gently tilted her chin up until her gaze met his. “Do not be embarrassed, Elena. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone in my entire life. I was simply too cowardly to tell you.”

“Do you mean it?” she asked shyly, her lip quivering. “Truly?”

“Truly,” Dash confirmed in a hushed tone.

She looked deeply into his eyes, his words giving her strength and courage. “Then let me say it again: I love you, Dash. Truly.”