An Unlikely Alliance (6 page)

Her grasp tightened on his neck, and he
struggled to coherently think of a way he could continue kissing
her without compromising her or causing such a commotion as to
scare her off. And then she kissed him back.

He had thought she was kissing him before.
No, he was wrong. Royce was hardly ever wrong, but in this
instance, he was thankful. For the innocent was not so innocent as
to not understand how to kiss a man and make it count.

Forgetting his name, his purpose in life,
and forsaking all else, Royce lifted her out of the chair and
pulled her into a tight embrace, moving her to the nearest settee,
so he could fully take advantage of the privacy offered.

And then, for some reason, as he brought her
close to the settee, so close to where he wanted her to be, she
stiffened.

He recoiled, knowing he fully deserved to be
slapped.

Instead, she pulled back, gasped, put her
hand over her mouth, and shook her head. "I don't know what came
over me!"

Oddly enough, Royce had a few things he
could say to her little outburst, but wisdom told him to stay put.
Unfortunately for Royce, he rarely listened to wisdom, so he
decided to say, "I certainly do!" And then promptly winked.

"Ah ha! There it is!" he exclaimed as her
hand flew through the air in the direction of his face. He quickly
grabbed her flying hand and twisted her into an embrace, pinning
her hands down by her sides, so he could freely whisper into her
ear. "Don't overthink it. I'll see you tonight. At seven. Be
ready."

With that he slowly released her and stalked
out of the room. The grin on his face was not lost on the butler,
who slammed the door behind him.

Whoever said Southerners were the
friendliest people around had obviously not met the De Jarlias
family or their staff.

Seven couldn't come soon enough.

Chapter
Eight

Evelyn felt like a fool. She had kissed a
man she was certain she despised, and she had thoroughly enjoyed
it! What was wrong with her? She wanted to scream, yet the only
thoughts she could string together had to do with the way Royce's
hands felt on her back and her face. Or the way his lips felt
against hers. It was perfect. If she was ever asked to describe the
perfect kiss, that would have been it. She hated him for it.

At seven she finally donned her darkest
gown, thinking since she was supposed to be spying, she might as
well dress the part.

Next, she mentally prepared herself against
seduction. The sly grins, the barest of touches, the sweet smell of
man—she had to resist or flee temptation altogether. She wasn't
doing this for Royce; she was doing this for her father. To protect
him from…

Well, what was she actually trying to
protect him from? A knock on the door stirred her thoughts more. It
had taken some persuasion but she had offered their butler the
night off. Not only did he despise Royce, but the idea of her daddy
finding out about her spying did not settle well. She walked over
and pulled open the door, revealing a painfully handsome Royce. It
was some kind of mean trick from God. Why did all the attractive
men have to be cads? As if on cue, Royce flashed a brilliant smile,
making her feel like punching him in the gut and slamming the door
on his hand.

"I know what you're thinking."

"Impossible," she grumbled, stepping out
into the cool night air.

Royce fell into step beside her and offered
a mocking laugh. "You were thinking about causing me physical harm.
Ah, yes. I can see by the stern look on your face you're upset I
can read you so well. Sorry." He shrugged, lifting his hands into
the air. "It's your eyes."

"My eyes?" Did this man ever censor his
speech?

"Yes. Your beautiful 'I want to get lost and
never be found' eyes. They reveal too much of your feelings. Most
of the ladies around here make it a practice to hide what they're
thinking as a way to catch a husband. You, on the other hand, have
a tendency to wear your heart on your sleeve. I assure you, it's
endearing."

How had the conversation gone from Evelyn
causing him physical harm to compliments about her eyes?
Self-consciously, she reached up and pulled the hooded cloak
farther over her face.

"Don't." Royce reached out and grabbed her
wrists. "I like to see your face."

It wasn't the most romantic of compliments,
but for some reason, it made Evelyn truly see Royce for the first
time. The way his eyes lit up when he was being himself—when he was
being serious about something.

Shuddering, she pulled back, but as they
walked along in silence, there was nothing she could do to rub away
the tingling sensations his hands had left on her wrists.

Something between them had changed, and she
had good reason to believe it started with a dinner date gone
wrong, and then the kiss, and now their excursion. She shook her
head, hoping the physical act of shaking would force the looming
thoughts out of her mind.

"Here we are!" Royce announced upon reaching
his mansion.

Evelyn nearly choked. Her eyes greedily
scanned the home in front of her. Home? It was no home; it was one
of the most beautiful houses she had ever seen. Just how rich were
the McArthurs? And why hadn't she noticed the beautiful home before
when she had stayed with Royce during the theatre mishap?

"Few things you should know," he whispered,
escorting her towards the back. "We own a successful fleet of ships
which happily row across the ocean to deliver our famous
whiskey."

"Whiskey?"

"Yes, the same whiskey you had the other
night? My family's whiskey. We own shares in a few other silly
little ventures as well, but my father left everything to me. I'm
the one in charge. My mother is also in my care, which is why I
feel the need to be so protective of her."

"I understand."

"Yes, I know you do. So we are in agreement
then?"

"Agreement?" Just what had she agreed to do
whilst kissing this handsome man?

Royce opened the gate and shooed her towards
the back end of the house. "We agree our parents should not get
involved."

"I guess," she heard herself say, although
she wasn't particularly convinced of her answer. Her own mother had
been dead for some time. It would be good for her daddy to find
some happiness. She just wasn't sure he would find happiness with
Mrs. McArthur.

"Stay very quiet," Royce ordered as they
reached the servants' entrance. In order to make sure she
understood, he held his finger up to his lips, motioning for her to
be quiet yet again.

Rolling her eyes, she stepped over the
threshold and was immediately pushed back against the wall.

"What the—" she whispered. She would have
yelled, but Royce had his hand over her mouth, shaking his head
furiously from side to side.

And then someone walked right by them.
Luckily they were shrouded in darkness, so they weren't discovered.
In those inappropriately close quarters, Evelyn could have sworn
Royce could hear her heart beating.

Her feelings were getting out of control
fast. Way too fast for her liking. Granted, he was an agreeable
man, but he was vain and selfish. No gentle-bred Southern girl
would tie the knot with him—not if they were offered all the gold
in the world. And yet … as his piercing eyes locked with hers, she
was lost again.

He seemed as eager as she to stay under
their cover of darkness. He leaned toward her. A kiss was eminent,
but instead she felt his hand caress her chin and then very softly
brush a curl away from her face. "This way," he mouthed, releasing
her from his embrace.

Suddenly, it felt frightfully cold in that
house.

Evelyn followed as closely as possible as he
weaved his way in and out of the kitchen area. Finally, he stopped
in a small room just outside the living room and quietly shut the
door behind them.

"Where are we?"

"Serving quarters," he whispered, pushing
her hood back from her face. "A lot of houses have them; it makes
it easier for the kitchen staff to serve if they have a waiting
area to put all the food. And it has this handy little
contraption." He reached up towards the wall nearest the dining
room and opened a small shutter. "It's what they serve food through
normally, but tonight it shall be our way of spying."

Evelyn rolled her eyes and joined him. She
looked out toward the dining room and gasped when she saw her daddy
and Royce's mother stride in, wine already in hand!

"I'm telling you, Nora, this wine ain't
nothing like my moonshine I used to brew down on the farm."

"What in heaven is moonshine, Stuart?"

They took seats inappropriately close to one
another. The servants filed out and began laying out food. Evelyn
immediately tensed. What a foolish plan! Of course they would be
found out! If the servants used this particular room to serve food,
they were doomed!

Obviously sensing her tension, Royce
whispered, "She's instructed all staff to take the night off, so
she and her guest can dine alone."

"Alone? As in…"

"Alone," Royce repeated.

Evelyn snapped her head back to the dining
room. Her daddy was not only drinking wine with this woman, but now
he was kissing her hand! As if they had been keeping company for
days, weeks even!

"I'm so glad we've been spending so much
time together," Daddy said, bringing Mrs. McArthur's hand to his
lips. "I just wish we didn't have to sneak around the
children."

"What they don't know won't hurt them." She
giggled.

"Hmm… like mother, like son," Evelyn
whispered at Royce then punched him in the arm. "This is entirely
your fault!"

"Can you try to be quieter? And how in the
world is this my fault?"

"Because it is!"

"Sound reasoning. And tell me, Detective,
what other pieces of evidence will you falsify?"

Evelyn stuck out her tongue and groaned. Her
daddy was reaching for a small jar of something that looked oddly
familiar.

"Oh, my very own!" Mrs. McArthur clapped her
hands excitedly. "I've never had Southern moonshine before!"

Royce tapped Evelyn on the arm, his lips in
a firm line. "Is your daddy trying to get my mother drunk? Because
if he is, I'm putting a stop to it right now! No wonder you can
drink whiskey better than any man. You've been brought up by
savages! Admit it, you've had moonshine!"

Evelyn didn't have time to answer, since
both their parents were now happily drinking little shots of
moonshine and laughing, completely ignoring the food set in front
of them.

Not that Evelyn wanted to get caught, but
she couldn't stop the little cry of outrage which flew out of her
lips. Royce shot her an 'I'm going to kill you' look, and then
promptly tackled her to the floor as her daddy ambled over to
examine the tiny window.

He inquired what it was, and then sauntered
off, taking the moonshine and Mrs. McArthur with him.

"I'm going to kill him," Royce said
casually, as if he were talking about buying a new pair of
shoes.

"My daddy? Please! What about your mama? She
was just begging for Daddy to take advantage! 'Oh, Stuart, I've
never had such marvelous moonshine!' Did you see the way she was
touching his arm?"

Royce's eyes looked like they were going to
snap right out of his head. "Excuse me? Are you calling my mother a
streetwalker?"

"Well, you're calling my daddy a lothario!
It's the same thing!"

"How do you figure?" Royce's voice had risen
well above a whisper.

"We're going to get caught!" Evelyn snapped,
pulling him closer to her. "At least they're out having fun, not
trapped in some dark room spying!"

"Fun? How can you think of fun when our
parents are busy seducing one another? Oh, Lord, the things that
just crossed my mind! The staff has all been given the night off.
They think they're alone. And now they've gone off God knows
where!"

Evelyn laughed. "Calm down! We're alone,
too." The reality suddenly dawned on her. She was all alone with
Royce in a dark closet. No kitchen staff to watch over them. My,
but it was hot in that little room. Suddenly too aware of the
virile man sitting next to her, she scooted farther away.

"Don't tell me the infamous Royce McArthur
has never been stuck in a small, confined space with a woman
before," she said, silently hoping he would admit this was a first
for him as well.

"I… well, I…" He licked his lips as if
concentrating. "I have no desire to be with anyone but you right
now. I can see by the look on your face I've scared you as much as
I've scared myself. Right, then. I'll just go jump out my window
now. Good night!"

"Royce, sit down! First, if you jump, I'll
jump. Second, I hate heights; and third, you're just scared because
you're so upset about your mother. You don't truly mean the things
coming out of your mouth."

"Normally, I would agree with you."

"A shock you would agree with anyone … about
anything … ever," Evelyn murmured, donning her hood again. "I doubt
you can even properly seduce a woman without putting your foot in
your mouth."

"I sure hope that's a challenge."

"It is, but you can't try it on me." He
stepped closer. "Because…" She looked behind her, hoping to find an
escape route. "I'm not looking for a fling."

"Neither. Am. I."

Chapter
Nine

And the truth was, he wasn't. Looking for a
fling, that is. He was positively enamored by this sweet and
beautiful woman. So enamored, in fact, he couldn't care less about
their original intent on spying. All he wanted was Evelyn,
everywhere. How unfortunate they weren't somewhere convenient like
a bedroom, or a sitting room, or anywhere with a floor that wasn't
made of cold, hard marble.