In the Night (23 page)

As he lifted the tiara to put it back in the safe, a soft sound made him freeze. He turned his head, knowing full well what he was going to see, but unable to avoid it all the same.

Moira sat up in the bed, the dying fire not dead enough to conceal the bewilderment in her expression. For the second time that evening she asked the one question he didn’t want to answer.

“What are you doing?”

H
e could not be stealing from her. He couldn’t. Clutching the quilt to her chest to hide her nakedness, Moira couldn’t help but notice that Wynthrope was fully dressed, nor could she fail to notice that he held the tiara Tony had given her in his hand.

How had he gotten into her safe? More importantly,
why
was he in her safe?

The candle in his other hand illuminated his face, casting dark shadows across his eyes. He was silent, his mouth set in a grim line. He obviously was not pleased to find her awake.

“What are you doing with my tiara?” Perhaps he’d answer a more direct question if he wouldn’t answer her previous query. Whatever he said, she hoped he proved her suspicions wrong.

He returned the tiara to her safe and closed the door, sealing it inside once more. “I was going to steal it.”

The breath rushed from her lungs.
Was?
“You’re the thief everyone is talking about.”

He didn’t even attempt to pretend innocence. “Yes.”

All the blood rushed from her face, leaving her with a sick feeling in her stomach. “Why? Are you so desperate for money?”

He shook his head, his gaze focused somewhere to her right. “Money had nothing to do with it.”

He sounded so caustic, so mocking. “So you do it for the excitement, is that it?”

“I did it because I had to.” His tone made it obvious that he didn’t expect her to understand. Of course she wouldn’t understand. How could she?

“You had to?” How very ludicrous! “Why on earth would you have to steal a candelabra and a set of dueling pistols?”

Now he chose to meet her gaze, and when he did, it was like staring at a stranger. “So no one would notice when I took something more precious.”

More precious? Her tiara, or was that simply another ruse to cover his tracks? Oh God, it hurt so much to think that he had only been using her. She had suspected he was after one thing—her body. It never occurred to her that the “one thing” might be something of a more material worth.

“Did you not stop to consider that these items might have sentimental value to their owners, despite their lack of worth?” Such as the fact that she only cared about that tiara because Tony had wanted her to have it.

He closed the hinged painting as well. “It didn’t matter. Those other items all found their way back to their rightful owners.”

And that made it all right, did it? He sounded so detached, so uncaring. Was this the real he, or was he simply pretending? This cold stranger was not the man she had come to care about. “What about my tiara, would it have made its way back to its rightful owner?”

His silence was answer enough. Moira’s chest tightened painfully, making it difficult to draw breath.

“If I hadn’t woken up, you were going to simply take it and go, weren’t you?”

“No.” He gave his head a determined shake. “I was putting it back.”

He expected her to believe that?

Anger heated her blood, strengthened her resolve, and spurred her onward. “All those questions you asked me about where I kept my valuables. You were not concerned for my safety, you simply wanted to know where to look.”

He nodded ever so slightly. “Yes.”

She knew that would be his answer, but it still hurt to hear it so plainly from his own lips.

“And all the time you spent here, that was reconnaissance work, was it?” God, all those kisses, all those conversations that had meant so much, that had changed her…

He met her gaze, and it was as though he’d punched her in the stomach. “Not all of it, no.”

Even if she took him at his word, that still meant that some of the time he had spent with her he had been planning to steal from her. The imaginary knife in her gut twisted.

“You had this planned from the beginning didn’t you?” Her voice cracked. “From the first moment we met.”

His expression was beseeching, his tone resolute, “No. Moira, it was not like that.”

She clutched the quilt more tightly against her chest. For all its protection, she felt even more naked than she had been in the tub. How very awful it was to find out that she had been so wrong about him when she so very badly wanted to be right. “Everything you said to me, you didn’t mean a word.”

“I meant it all.” His voice was strangely weary, quiet.

She ignored him. “My God, this is worse than any wager.

You weren’t out to win a bet, you were out for a bigger prize.”

He held out a hand as though he could touch her from across the room. “Moira—”

Tears filled her eyes, constricted her throat. “You came here to steal it, didn’t you? I thought you came here for me, but you came for it.”

He dropped his hand and said nothing. He didn’t have to.

Wetness scalded her cheek as a tear slipped from her eye. “You made love to me for a piece of jewelry.”

“No!” He took a step toward her, his tone adamant. “What happened between us had nothing to do with this.” He gestured toward the safe.

“It had everything to do with this!” Angrily she wiped at the tears streaming down her face. “Why did you have to do it like this? Why couldn’t you have simply broken into my house weeks ago? Why did you have to make me trust you?”

“I never intended for this to happen. You and I had already met before I ever planned to steal the tiara.”

Of course he would say that. He would say anything to confuse her. “Why do you want it? There are other more impressive ones among the
ton
.”

He raked his free hand through his hair. Was he uncomfortable?
Good
. “I do not want it. The man I work for does.”

“Work for?” How long had he been doing this, for heaven’s sake? Any amount of time was too long. If he was the kind of person who could take from others without any thought to what it meant, then he certainly wasn’t the man she thought he was.

He shook his head. “It is a long story, one that hardly matters now. All that matters is that I do not do this of my own free will. You must believe me.”

“Believe you?” She choked on the words. “Why should I believe anything you say? For all I know, everything that comes out of your mouth is a lie.”

He pointed a finger at her. “I never lied to you, not about anything that mattered.”

Her mouth fell open and disbelieving laughter tumbled out. “You do not think this matters?”

“I’m not lying to you now.”

She’d see about that. “No? Who do you work for?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger and sighed. “No one you would ever want to know.”

Moira shut off the tiny remaining part of her that had any sympathy for him. “Why does he want my tiara?”

He dropped his hand. “He plans to sell it to someone else.”

“Who?” Who would want it so badly that he would hire someone to steal it? It was a lovely piece, but certainly not worth
that
much.

The same hand he dropped came up again to rub his jaw. “I do not know.”

Did not know, or was there no such person? “Why does this other person want it?”

“I do not know.”

“Why did this man ask you to steal it?” If he told her he didn’t know, she was going to throw something.

“I used to work for him. He knows I’m good.”

Good God, he wasn’t actually boasting, was he? Of course he was. Not only was he a despicable thief and a scoundrel, but he was a man, after all, and men always had to puff themselves up by crowing about their prowess.

Her fingers tightened on the sheet. “What did he offer you in exchange?”

“Does that matter?” He sounded so defeated.

Oddly enough, it did. “Yes.” She wanted to know what his price had been for crippling her this way. She wanted to know if it had been worth his while.

Wynthrope’s chin came up almost defiantly. As if he had any right to take such posture with her. She could slap him. “He was blackmailing me. He threatened to harm someone I care about. That’s all you need to know.”

Another twist of the knife—a reminder of how little she actually meant to him. “So you won’t lie to me, but you won’t tell me the entire truth either.”

He was unflinching—seemingly immune to her anguish. “I’m not going to tell you anything that might get you hurt.”

That was laughable. He didn’t actually expect her to believe he cared, did he? Not after telling her she knew all that she needed? “Nothing you could tell me could hurt me any more than I already am.” Perhaps she shouldn’t admit just how deeply his betrayal cut her, but she couldn’t help it. She wanted him to know.

His face was ravaged with emotion as he came toward her. For a moment—just a moment—she actually believed he meant it when he said he never wanted to hurt her, but he’d been so cold just a few moments before, she didn’t know what to believe.

“Moira, I agreed to steal your tiara because I thought I had no other choice.”

The pleading in his voice cut her to the bone. What a skilled liar he was. “You have said as much already.”

“But when the opportunity to take it came, I realized that I do have a choice. I chose to put the tiara back.” His tone was agitated, frustrated. He was actually upset that she didn’t readily believe him!

“You put it back because I caught you! And now it is my word against yours if I alert the authorities. No doubt you’ll tell them I accused you out of spite because you rejected me.”

He had the nerve to look affronted. “Do you really believe I would do something like that?”

God, she was tired, so very tired and sad. Disappointed.
Disillusioned. “A half hour ago I wouldn’t have believed you could steal from me. Now I believe you to be capable of almost anything.”

“Moira, please.”

No, she wouldn’t listen anymore. She had already given him adequate opportunity to explain himself, and so far he hadn’t said anything that gave her any cause to believe or forgive him.

“I gave you my trust, Wynthrope. I trusted you with my secret, trusted you to be my first lover because I believed you would not hurt me. You have hurt me more than anyone else in my life. My parents could take lessons from you.”

He knew what kind of insult she meant that to be, she could read it in his expression.

“I put the tiara back because I didn’t want to betray you. If you had not woken up, you never would have known about this.”

Ah yes. Had she only stayed asleep she would still be blissfully ignorant of his duplicity. That led to her next thought. “Tell me something. Would you have stayed until morning? Would you have had the gall to face me after your theft, or would you have snuck out as quietly as you came?”

His hand was in his hair again. She remembered how those silken strands had felt entwined around her own fingers. “There wouldn’t have been a need, because I wasn’t going to take it.”

“What was your plan, Wynthrope? Before you had this sudden change of heart, that is?” Why was she doing this to herself? Did she not hurt enough already?

He didn’t bow his head. At least he had the courage to face her, she would give him that. “I was going to stay until morning.”

The bastard. He was going to crawl back into her bed, and
stay with her—possibly even make love to her a second time—and then calmly walk out of her house with her tiara.

“I do not know you,” she whispered, choking back fresh tears. “I thought I did but I do not.”

He was beside the bed now, the flame of the candle detailing every nuance of his ravaged expression. “Moira, you know me better than anyone ever has.”

He was a good actor, she would give him that. If his betrayal hadn’t turned her heart to stone, she might actually believe him.

“No. The man I thought I knew would never do something like this, not without a good reason, and I do not think you have one of those.”

“I told you why. Someone I care about is in danger.”

Yes, he had already told her that. “But you will not tell me who?”

He pursed his lips. “No. This person would not appreciate your knowing.”

How would this person ever know unless Wynthrope told him? Did he not trust her to keep such information a secret? Obviously not. “So for all I know, this nameless person doesn’t even exist.”

Earnest blue eyes locked with hers. “You could trust me.”

His hopeful tone would have been laughable if it hadn’t lit a fuse deep within her. Of all the inane, rotten things he could possibly say to her. “How dare you ask that of me! I have trusted you more than you ever deserved.”

His face tightened. “I suppose you expect me to tell all of London about your sham of a marriage now?”

“It would not surprise me.” What if he did? She would be ruined. Oddly enough, that hardly mattered to her at the moment. The one thing that she had built her life around for more than a decade meant absolutely nothing to her now that she was faced with the possibility of it.

“And what of you?” There was that mocking twist of his lips again. “Am I to be arrested in the morning?”

The idea of him being locked away sickened her, even though she knew he deserved it. “It would serve you right.”

He set the candle on the bedside table, leaning down so that their faces were just inches away. So beautiful, so treacherous. He was Lucifer incarnate. “I will make a bargain with you. I promise to keep your secret if you promise to keep mine.”

Bitterness rose in Moira’s throat. She had no intention of turning him in to the authorities—for her own benefit as well as his. It was weak of her, no doubt, but she didn’t see how she could report him without someone figuring out they had been intimate. And no matter what he had done, she couldn’t betray him like that, even though he had betrayed her. The fact that he was so ready to blackmail her only proved that he wasn’t the man that she thought.

Some of her distaste must have shown on her face, because sorrow flickered in his eyes. “I do not ask for me, Moira.”

A sneer curved her lips. “Let me guess, you are asking for this mystery person you must protect.”

“Yes. More people than you and I would suffer if word of this got out.”

He was right. There were other people to think of. “I promise not to say anything, but not for you. It is Octavia and North I am thinking of, and the rest of your family.”