Romney Marsh Trilogy: A Gentleman by Any Other Name / The Dangerous Debutante / Beware of Virtuous Women. Kasey Michaels
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night, sir.”
Chance let her get nearly to the door to her chamber before he stopped her, turned her around at the shoulders. “Jacko overheard us, remember? The man gossips like an old woman. By noon tomorrow, they’ll all think we’re lovers. That means you’re mine, and no one associated with Becket Hall would even think to harm anyone or anything that’s mine. I’m sorry I could come up with nothing better, but at that moment it was the only thing I could think of to…well, to shut you up. Do you want me to tell them otherwise?”
At last he had come close to admitting that, yes, there could be danger here at Becket Hall because of what they’d seen and heard on the Marsh. Julia felt her heart begin to race again and willed herself to be calm. “I knew what you were doing, once you did it. But I’m only the nanny. No one will care what our…association might be.”
“So you don’t mind being my mistress, Julia?” Chance asked her, drawing her closer.
“We both know I’m hardly that,” she said, hoping she sounded firm, sure of herself and unafraid of him. She couldn’t let him know how she felt as he stood so near, near enough for her to see the golden flecks in his stormy green eyes.
“True. But you’re a very brave woman, Julia. I saw that firsthand, out on the Marsh. And a very intelligent one, as well. No one here would be surprised that I’d found you…decidedly attractive.”
Why was she still standing there? Why was she still talking to him and not running into her room, hoping there was a key in the door so she could lock herself away from him, from those eyes of his that kept drawing her in, closer? Closer. “And would they be surprised that you would have your…your lover pose as your own child’s nanny, insinuate her into their household?”
Chance grinned, even as he lightly rubbed the pads of his thumbs across her remarkable collarbones. “Hardly, Julia. Hardly. In fact, I imagine they’ll be delighted with my transparent effort to disguise our true relationship until such time as I’m ready to reveal the truth. Besides, as you said, Billy has already approved you, no mean feat in itself. We’re a rather unique family.”
Julia took a shaky breath in an effort to appear calm, collected. But this man knew his impact on her senses and he was letting her know that he knew. “Saying, however, does not make something so. If you think I’d feel safer? As long as you and I know the truth of our…our association…” Her voice trailed off as she felt herself becoming even more lost in the deep green depths of his eyes. “That is…you and I…I would not ever—what are you doing? Stop that.”
Chance had lifted his hands to her hair and begun working at that infuriating, intriguing bun. “Did no one ever tell you, Julia, that a beautiful woman attempting to look prim and proper is more often than not a siren song to a man? I’ve been wanting to do this from the moment you walked into my presence and began taking over my household.”
Julia felt the band on her hair coming free and the weight of her hair slipping down past her shoulders. He placed his hands on either side of her face below her ears, then slipped his fingers up and into her hair, sending shivers skittering throughout her body.
She should stop this. Stamp on his toe, slap his face. Something.
But, oh, it felt so good. His hands were warm against her skin, and his face was so close to hers, his full lips curved in such a wickedly intriguing smile. Her world filled with him, and only him, and all her defenses had deserted her.
She closed her eyes.
“Sleep well, Julia,” he said—breathed—against her temple. “You’re tired and Ainsley awaits. We’ll continue this another time.”
Chance watched as she opened her eyes to look at him in surprise. And perhaps disappointment? He hoped so, as he was more than disappointed himself. “You see, Julia? I’m a gentleman. But a gentleman on a very short leash and now returned to the bosom of his not-always-gentlemanly family. You might ask my sisters to hide you, but it would be safer, I’m sure, if you were to leave here, return to London.”
“Return to London? So that’s what this has all been about? You want to frighten me into leaving?”
“What I want and what I think best are two different things,” Chance told her. “But you should leave.”
“I don’t want to return to London,” Julia said before she could realize the implications of that admission. “I mean, I want to stay here, with Alice.”
Chance trailed his fingers down her cheek, then looped two fingers into the top of her modest gown, traced the skin just at the uppermost swell of her breasts. “I don’t know which of us is most dangerous to the other. But we’ll find out, won’t we. Again, darling, good night.”
Chance turned and headed for the hallway, scooping up his greatcoat as he went, silently cursing himself for having nearly lost control of his hard-won civilized demeanor that had been more than a dozen long years in the making.
He shouldn’t have come back. He’d cut the ties, loosed the bonds, made a new life for himself. And all it had taken were a few words from Jacko, a lungful of sea air and one beautiful, too-curious virgin to turn him back into the wharf rat he’d worked so hard to forget.
CHAPTER SIX
AINSLEY BECKET STOOD in the shadows and watched as Chance carelessly descended the wide marble staircase. The younger man kept his hands at his sides, his confident grace, as always, reminding Ainsley of how deftly the young Chance had sidled through a wharfside pub crowded with drunken sailors, smoothly lightening the load of coins in their pockets.
Ainsley had sat with his back to the wall and idly watched the tanned, barely clothed, underfed boy ply his trade. He was only amusing himself, especially when he saw the boy bump into Billy, murmur an apology and then walk away after Billy cuffed him on the ear. The boy had grinned widely then, even as he’d pretended to howl in pain, with Billy’s pocket now empty and the seaman none the wiser.
“Fool’s too drunk to know he’s been dipped. Do we tell him, Cap’n?” Jacko had asked, using his mug of ale to point at Billy.
Ainsley hadn’t answered. He was already on his feet, for one of Edmund’s men had taken hold of the boy’s arm and was leering down into the suddenly white, pinched face. Saying something, whispering to the boy.
“Damn him, I warned Edmund about that one,” Ainsley had said as the seaman made a grab at the boy’s crotch. “He’d poke a knothole.” Then he’d looked down at Jacko, who was taking another drink from his mug. “You with me?”
“Better with you than against you, Cap’n, although I would remind you I said not to come in here. Back to the wall or nay, never drink in another man’s pub,” Jacko had said in that lazy, smiling way of his. He’d put down the mug and pushed his thickset body out of the chair. Both men had slipped out their knives, holding them low at their sides as they’d pushed their way toward certain trouble, Jacko whistling Billy to heel.
The rest of that evening remained a partial blur in Ainsley’s memory, although the chipped tooth in the front of Jacko’s mouth was one reminder. By dawn, the three of them had been nursing their wounds, some greasy bastard named Angelo who stood behind the small serving bar had been made the richer by ten gold pieces, Edmund was short three of his crew and Ainsley had acquired a brat. He’d thought it an amusing bit of justice that he’d put Billy in charge of the boy.
How old had Chance been when he’d come to the island? Eight? Ten? And a man nearly grown by the time—Ainsley closed his eyes, let the pain roll over him, not as crippling now, but still there to remind him, then finished the thought—by the time they’d all died and gone to England.
“It’s good to see you, boy.”
Chance paused with his right foot on the stone floor of the wide entrance hall, then moved again, turning to his right, following the sound of Ainsley’s voice. “Sir,” he said, then held out his hand to the man. Nearly five years had passed since they’d