A Loving Scoundrel Page 3

  And that had their thief turning toward the door. Jeremy reached out and caught the back of her collar and yanked her onto his lap instead. “Try that again and you can spend the next several hours right here,” he said, wrapping his arms around her so tightly she couldn’t move.

  She couldn’t get loose, but that didn’t mean she was going to stop trying. Wiggling about in his lap, however, was probably the worst thing she could have done. The position was much too sensual, producing lascivious thoughts of what he’d like to do—no, would do if they were alone. Stripping her clothes off slowly, finding out how she was concealing her breasts, nibbling on her shoulder as he drove into her. Bloody hell. If she continued to bounce on him like that, he might just kick Percy out of the coach for a while.

  She must have realized her efforts were useless about the same time he realized he couldn’t stand the wiggling and bouncing of her bottom on his thighs and loins anymore without becoming quite obvious in what she was stirring up. She groaned, yet to him it sounded more passionate than frustrated and had him dropping her as if he’d just been burned. Good God, she shouldn’t be affecting him this strongly. He had to get it under control.

  She’d fallen to the floor again, but immediately scrambled up on the seat opposite them, jerking down her coat lapels, dustingoff her grubby pants, and avoiding eye contact as best she could, all the while watching for the counterattack that Percy’s remark had suggested might be coming.

  Jeremy waited a full five minutes, about the time it took for him to get his desire in check and hope his voice wouldn’t reflect it. Finally he stretched out his legs, crossed them, leaned back and crossed his arms as well, and said, “Relax, youngun. We’d as soon not hurt you. You’re going to do us a favor, and in the process make yourself rich. What could be more agreeable than that, eh?”

  “For ye to take me back.”

  “That isn’t an option. We went to a lot of trouble to obtain you.”

  “Ye should’ve obtained me bleedin’ consent first—m’ lord.”

  The title was added as an afterthought, and with a large heaping of contempt.

  She was glowering at him again, now that she was relatively sure he wasn’t going to throttle her. He’d tried not to examine her eyes too closely, hoping the dim light of the candle in the tavern room had misled him. But the brighter coach lamp and close proximity were his undoing. Her eyes were simply incredible and added tenfold to her beauty. Violet they were, dark, rich violet, and such a startling contrast to her white-gold mop of curls. Her eyelashes were long, but not overly dark. The brows, too, weren’t very dark, merely a few shades more golden.

  He tried, he really did, to find some masculinity in the face across from him, but it just wasn’t there. How anyone could mistake her for a boy boggled his mind. And yet Percy had no trouble seeing a lad, albeit a “pretty” one. Her height, he supposed, was the deciding factor. It was rare, after all, to find a female who was bloody well as tall as his father was. Anyone that tall would naturally be assumed to be male.

  He’d also tried, truly, not to react to her as he would any other beautiful woman he came across. But those eyes…He gave up the fight. He would have her in his bed, and before the night was done. It would happen. He had no doubt whatsoever.

  Having given in to his prurient nature, the change in Jeremy was immediate. Some might call it charm, but it was in fact pure sensuality, and to look at him when his thoughts were carnal was to know he promised pleasures untold.

  The wench reacted immediately to the way he was now looking at her, casting her eyes away from him, but not before she blushed. Jeremy smiled. He’d known she wouldn’t be an easy conquest, yet that blush spoke volumes. She was no more immune to him than other women were. But he wasn’t going to give away her little secret. He’d let her play her manly role for now—at least until he got her alone.

  For the moment, he addressed her remark, wondering aloud, “Should you have obtained our consent before you robbed us?” That got him another blush, so he merely concluded, “No, I didn’t think that was your habit. So let me just explain what’s needed and why, before you get back to refusing out of hand. My friend here got himself robbed, you see, but in a legal way.”

  “If ye insist on explaining,” she injected, “ye could at least make sense.”

  A mere grumble. Encouraging. Apparently she was going to listen to him.

  “The ‘legal’ way I mention was gambling.”

  A snort. “That ain’t being robbed, that’s being stupid. A big difference there, mate.”

  Jeremy grinned, and the wench became obviously flustered by it, which only made his grin turn knowing. He then explained that John Heddings was the culprit who chose not to play fair and that she was going to exact retribution for them.

  “We’re taking you to Heddings’s house in the country,” Jeremy continued. “It’s rather big, will be filled with servants, and thus, they’ll be confident that no thief in his right mind would ever consider robbing them, and rightly so. Which is to your benefit, lad.”

  “ ’Ow’s that?”

  “The doors might be locked, but the windows will pro’bly be open this time of the year. The fact that they don’t expect to be robbed means they won’t be on their guard for it. And it’s past midnight, so the servants should be asleep and out of the way until morning. So you should have no difficulty entering the house.”

  “And then wot?”

  “You will need to enter the master bedroom undetected. Chances are Heddings will be in it when you do, but you’re quite used to that I’m sure. Like the servants, he should be fast asleep this time of night. Then proceed to do what you do best. Rob the man.”

  “Wot makes ye think ’e won’t ’ave his valuables locked away in a safe?”

  “Because he doesn’t live in London. The gentry feel much more secure on their country estates.”

  “Wot do these ’eirlooms look like then, that I’m s’pose to be nabbing?”

  “Two rings, both very old.”

  “I’m still needing a description, gent, if I’m to pick them out o’ the pot.”

  Jeremy shook his head at her. “It doesn’t matter, since you can’t just take Percy’s two rings. That would leave Heddings knowing right where to point the finger. Your job, dear boy, is no different than you’re accustomed to, to take everything of value you find. Your gain is that you may keep all the rest for yourself, thousands of pounds’ worth of jewelry, I’m sure.”

  “Thousands!” she said, gaping at him.

  He nodded with a chuckle. “Now aren’t you glad we insisted you come along?”

  Those lovely violet eyes narrowed abruptly on him. “Yer a bleedin’ idiot if ye think any trinkets, no matter how costly, makes up for the trouble I’ll be in for not getting permission to do this first.”

  Jeremy frowned, but not over the name-calling. “You’re on that tight a leash?”

  “I’ve rules to abide by, aye, and ye’ve made me break most o’ them.”

  His sigh was long and drawn out. “You could have mentioned this sooner.”

  “I figured the barkeep would’ve stopped ye. Didn’t take ’im for no coward, big as ’e is.”

  “No one likes to get a bullet in their face, lad,” Jeremy said in the barkeep’s defense. “But he can attest that you weren’t given a choice in the matter. So what, really, is the problem?”

  “It’s none o’ yer concern—”

  “Beg to differ, you’ve just made it my concern.”

  “Like ’ell. Figure it out real quick, mate, that ye’ve interfered in m’life too much as is. Drop it, or we’re done talking about any- thing.”

  A long moment passed before Jeremy nodded—for now. But causing their thief extended grief had not been part of tonight’s agenda. He’d have to accompany the girl home now, when they were done, to get whatever trouble he’d caused her set right.

  There shouldn’t have been any trouble, though, and that’s where this situation was g
etting most odd. They were offering a thief a golden opportunity. Any normal cutpurse would have jumped on it and been grateful to have such a golden egg dropped in his lap. But no, they had to get the one exception, a thief from a gang that was apparently so bogged down in rules that they couldn’t even do odd jobs without getting permission first. Which defied reason. What bloody difference could it make when, where, or what, as long as the fat purse got brought home?

  The coach stopped. Percy said with a sigh, “Finally.” Then: “Good luck, youngun. Not that you’ll need it. We’ve every confidence in you, ’deed we do. And can’t tell you how much this is appreciated. It’s deuced hard hiding from your own mother, specially when you live with her.”

  Jeremy opened the coach door and ushered the girl out before Percy’s dissertation turned into his usual long-winded sort. They were parked in the woods near Heddings’s estate. He took her arm and led her through the trees until the house was in sight.

  “I’d wish you luck as well, but you aren’t likely to need it,” he said in parting. “I’ve seen how capable you are at what you do.”

  “Wot makes ye think I won’t be bolting for home soon as I’m out o’ yer sight?”

  Jeremy smiled, though she probably couldn’t see it. “Because you have absolutely no idea where you are. Because it’s the middle of the night. Because we can get you back to London much, much sooner than if you try to find it yourself. Because you’d rather return home with your pockets full of dazzling gems than empty. Because—”

  “That were enough becauses, mate,” she interrupted in a low grumble.

  “Quite right. But one last assurance. If for some inexplicable reason you are apprehended, don’t panic. I’m not sending you to the wolves, dear boy. I will see to your release no matter what it takes. You may depend upon it.”

  Chapter 3

  I’M NOT SENDING YOU TO THE WOLVES. Who did he think he was kidding? He was the bleeding wolf. But she could breathe normally again, now that he was no longer near her and looking at her with those penetrating blue eyes.

  She’d nearly given herself away, with all those blushes, and that had frightened her, too, that she’d been unable to control what that gent made her feel. She usually dealt well with men, she was “one” of them, after all. But then she’d never come so close to one of Malory’s caliber. Just looking at him flustered her, she found him so attractive!

  Danny had never been so distraught in her entire life, with possibly one exception. But she’d been too young to realize the danger she had been in then, hadn’t known that if she’d stayed where she was she’d surely die, only knew that she was completely alone in the world, with no one to turn to for help.

  She wasn’t alone anymore, but she might as well be. She’d been living on a tightrope of anxiety for several years now because she was getting too old to hide that she’d never fill out with manly proportions like the rest of the boys eventually did. Sooner or later, someone was going to realize and reveal that she’d deceived everyone from the very beginning.

  It had been easy, keeping that secret over the years, much easier than she could have hoped for, and all because Lucy had been right. Bringing her home to the pack in ragged knee breeches, a shirt too big, a coat too small, that old hat she’d found to keep the rain out of her eyes, and with her long hair chopped off to the neck had left a lasting impression that had never altered.

  She quickly became “one of the boys.” She’d learned to steal with them, learned to fight with them, learned everything they did—well, except when they went looking for female companionship of the type Danny didn’t want to know about.

  There were fourteen of them at present, and they lived in a dilapidated house that Dagger paid the rent on. There had been many houses like it over the years, even a few abandoned tenement buildings when there wasn’t enough money to pay for rent.

  Dagger never stayed in one place long. The current house had four rooms: a kitchen, two bedrooms, and a large living area. Dagger had one of the bedrooms for himself. The girls got the other bedroom to sleep in, or work in, if they were old enough to start whoring. Everyone else slept in the large living area, Danny included.

  There was a small backyard. Though no grass grew in it, it was still nice for the younger children to play in. Danny had enjoyed backyards herself, once she got over her aversion to being dirty. Bathing wasn’t an option for her, at least not in the communal tubs set up once a week in the kitchen. She snuck off to the river instead, when she could manage to. And the rain became her friend.

  Lucy was her only confidante. Lucy didn’t get the pox as she’d feared, but she did end up selling her body at Dagger’s insistence. Danny understood his logic, even if she didn’t like it. Being a comely woman, Lucy would have gained too much notice from the victims she intended to rob. A pickpocket had to be almost invisible to his target. Lucy couldn’t be that, and how else was she to earn her keep then?

  Dagger had been the oldest among them back then and he still was, so he was their leader by default. There’d only been a few rules to start with, nothing anyone could really mind. But Dagger seemed to think if he didn’t add more rules every so often, then he wasn’t doing his job.

  Danny never argued with him. She did what she was told to do without complaint. His was the only keen eye she really worried about because, aside from Lucy, he was the only one left who had been there the day she’d arrived with Lucy, and eventually it was going to occur to him to count up the years—and wonder why a twenty-year-old man still had the face of a twelve-year-old boy.

  He was thirty himself now or thereabouts, thirty and still running a pack of orphans. He could have moved on. Most of them did when they reached their high teens, wanting more than the pack offered, wanting to be able to keep what they stole, rather than turning it all over to Dagger to buy the food and pay the rent and bring home the occasional trinket to make one of them smile. Dagger could have moved on himself to more lucrative crimes, but he hadn’t.

  He meant well, even if he was abrasive. Danny had concluded years ago that he had a kind heart hidden somewhere in his scrawny chest. As leader, he probably thought he had to be hard and unbending. But she guessed he didn’t see himself just as their leader, but also as their father. And that’s why he hadn’t moved on with the rest. More orphans joined them, more left. Their numbers never really got higher than twenty or so, but they never got lower then ten either. There was always someone who needed looking out for.

  The number one rule of the pack was never, ever, rob the gentry in their own homes. That was the surest, quickest way to get them up in arms and to have the authorities come sweeping through the slums in search of the culprits. Finding a house full of orphans who weren’t official orphans would be a dead giveaway. And the horror stories that Dagger told about real orphanages were enough to enforce that rule. He knew firsthand, since he’d escaped from one years ago. Danny was breaking that rule tonight.

  Not that the gentry were off-limits, no indeed. But they were only to be robbed when they were found out and about, on the streets, in taverns, at market or otherwise shopping, where they might not even notice a few coins missing, and if they did, might think they’d merely dropped them by accident or spent them without remembering.

  The second rule that served them well was that they were to stick to their own areas and never go off to steal in places they weren’t familiar with. Dagger assigned each an area and changed it weekly, so the normal residents in those neighborhoods wouldn’t start to recognize any of them. Danny was breaking that rule, too.

  Another rule pertained only to her and a few others, since their age and height marked them as no longer children. The logic was, the taller they were, the harder time they’d have reaching their hand into a pocket. So when they reached a certain height, they graduated into the “specific jobs only” class, which meant they did no stealing on their own, only jobs that Dagger sent them to do. Danny was definitely breaking that rule.

  Dagg
er had arrangements for these jobs with three taverns and one inn. And because Danny was very recognizable due to the color of her hair and eyes, Dagger no longer let her do any job other than “sleepers.” She’d never failed before, but then, she’d never walked into a deliberate trap before either.

  The trouble she was in pertained only to her though. If one of the other boys had been captured instead, she had no doubt Dagger would have called it an exception and been glad of the unexpected riches that would tide them over for quite a while. There would be pats on the back and a celebration. But because she was the one captured and forced to break the rules, Dagger’s attitude was going to be just the opposite—because he’d been looking for a reason to give her the boot.

  For over two years now, nearly three, she’d been on the outs with Dagger. Whereas they used to get along just fine, used to joke and laugh a lot, now it seemed that he despised her. He singled her out for reprimands every chance he got. He criticized her constantly, deserved or not. He couldn’t be more obvious that he wanted her gone, but she’d given him no reason to kick her out. Until now.

  She didn’t even know why he’d turned against her, but it had started about the time she’d surpassed him in height. It could just be that as leader, he figured he should be the tallest. But he wasn’t a tall man to begin with, only about five feet seven inches. And she was flamboyant in her dress, whereas Dagger was nondescript. This impressed the children. Many of them modeled themselves after her and came to her when they needed something.

  She supposed Dagger might be fearful that she wanted to take his place. She didn’t. She didn’t even like to steal herself, so she certainly didn’t want the responsibility of sending out others to do the same. She felt it was wrong, an ingrained feeling that she’d never been able to shake. But she hadn’t had much choice in the matter, living among thieves. However, she’d tried to subtly reassure Dagger that his position didn’t appeal to her, without actually discussing it, but it hadn’t seemed to help.