Sweetest Little Sin (29 page)

He yanked on his breeches, hunted for his boots.

The click of a pistol being primed reverberated through the silence.

What was he going to do? Louisa scrambled up, fumbled through the darkness for some garments.

Finally clothed, she straightened and reached for her hairpins. “What now?” she whispered, quickly twisting her hair into a makeshift coiffure.

Jardine shifted the Chinese screen she’d used to protect her privacy while she bathed. His hands gripped her hips and he maneuvered her to a spot that would leave her in full view of Radleigh’s peephole. “Now I want you to stand here and begin undressing. Very slowly.”

Light flared, illuminating the room, throwing long shadows against the opposite wall.

She glanced back at the lit lamp.

Jardine had disappeared.

JARDINE liberated a candle from its sconce outside Louisa’s door and moved toward the curiosity cabinet next to her bedchamber.

He glanced at the clock. The night wasn’t so very advanced. The household would still be up and about, but it couldn’t be helped. He had to get Louisa out of here now.

According to Ives, Radleigh had been drinking heavily at the tavern in the village. What was the bet he’d visit his fiancée before going to bed? At the very least, he’d stop in the curiosity room to see whether he could catch a glimpse of her.

Jardine lit two branches of candles, left the door wide open. Glassy, dead eyes stared back at him from the cabinet with all sorts of stuffed animals in them. He shrugged off a frisson of distaste and located the peephole.

He bent to look through it, to ensure that Louisa had obeyed him. Instantly, he was captivated by the sight of Louisa, slowly unpinning her hair. One shining silvery blond lock after another fell down her back like moonlit rain, cool and alluring.

When all the pins were out, she ran her fingers through the straight mass, lifting it from her nape and letting it fall. The graceful sensuality of her movements made him hard for her all over again.

They’d never had leisure for slow exploration, had they? Everything was always rushed, explosive. Exciting, but ultimately not enough.

The longing to see her in his bed, in his home, pulled at him so strongly, the temptation to forget this whole business and steal her away almost gained the upper hand over duty.

But he was doing all this so they could have that leisure, grow old together, wasn’t he? After all these years of hiding their association, of being hunter and prey, such an existence seemed as distant and unattainable as a mirage.

He drew a long breath as Louisa daintily lifted one stockinged foot onto a chair, smoothing her skirts back up her leg to reveal the prettiest garter he’d ever seen. All lacy and beribboned, it was pure white, but no whiter than the slender thigh it encircled.

He thought of Louisa’s legs, the strong, elegant length of them wrapped around his waist, and more blood left his brain. Slowly, she slid the garter down, and he imagined pressing his mouth in its place, making love to that sensitive, soft skin on her inner thigh.

Still, no Radleigh.

Louisa’s stocking, robbed of its anchor, fell easily to her ankle. She bent to pluck the stocking from her foot, giving him a perfect view of her small breasts swinging forward, moving freely against the fabric of her gown and shift. There hadn’t been time to lace her corset.

She repeated the slow operation with her other garter and stocking. Clearly, she was drawing this out to delay undressing fully. Sensible of her to remain clothed. Though it was stupid to pant like a dog for the revelation of one more hint of flesh when he’d just licked and touched every naked inch of her, he willed her to reveal something. Just a little more . . .

Footsteps approached the room. “What the hell are you doing there?”

Outrage filled Radleigh’s tone.
Bastard.

Jardine smiled, put a finger to his lips. “You don’t know? I would have thought . . .”

He motioned Radleigh forward. “By all means, see for yourself.” He allowed his smile to broaden. “Allow me to compliment you on your taste.” He kissed his fingers.
“Exquisite.”

Ignoring the furious snarl on Radleigh’s face, he bent again to the peephole.

It took a second to register what he saw.

Or didn’t see.

Louisa wasn’t there.

The moment of distraction made him a little slow to react. Radleigh grabbed his shoulder and yanked him away from the wall. Jardine dodged the blow aimed at his chin and drove his fist hard into Radleigh’s stomach.

The breath left Radleigh in a loud “Oof,” but he kept on, a powerful battering ram in contrast to Jardine’s quick agility.

Jardine could have used his pistol, but a shot would bring servants running. Besides, he wanted Radleigh alive so he could force him to reveal where that list was hidden. The time for strategic maneuvering was past. He’d have that list if he had to kill Radleigh to get it.

The heat of the fight was in his blood now. He had his rhythm and his opponent’s measure.

With a snarl, Jardine spun away from a blow aimed at his solar plexus. Radleigh might know some dirty tricks, but he didn’t know as many as Jardine.

Radleigh reached out and bunched his big hands in Jardine’s coat, made as if to throw him across the room. Jardine’s foot shot out, sweeping Radleigh’s legs from under him.

The big man crashed to the floor, hitting his head on the edge of the stuffed animal display.

Jardine stood over the unconscious body of his opponent, panting, his fists clenched.

The sharp sound of someone clapping made his head jerk up.

Jardine froze as the man he had sought all these years strolled into the room.

“Smith.”

He was flanked by a heavy, a big, thickset man who looked like he belonged on the streets of London, a knife in his hand and ugliness in his eyes.

Jardine maintained his sangfroid. “I wondered how long it would be before we met.”

Another thug arrived, shoving Louisa before him, crowding the small room. He had a handkerchief wrapped around his upper arm, and it was rapidly staining red.

“Stuck you, did she?” Jardine’s eyes flickered to Louisa, warning her to be silent. “My compliments, Lady Louisa.” Where had she found a knife?

Smith turned, his smile broadening.

Louisa’s eyes widened as she saw Smith. “Oh, Mr. Saunders. Thank heaven! Jardine, it’s Mr. Saunders, Radleigh’s secretary, the man who helped me—”

“No, Louisa. He’s not here to help us. And his name is not Saunders.” Jardine drew in a long breath. “It’s Smith.”

Smith threw back his head and laughed.

“SUCH a trusting little thing, isn’t she?” Smith’s lively brown eyes sparkled with amusement, glinted with a malice that shocked Louisa to the core.

Confusion flooded her brain. Mr. Saunders, who’d taken such tender care of Harriet, was the villain Jardine sought? She’d pictured Saunders screaming in pain as Radleigh tortured him into revealing her and Harriet’s whereabouts. He appeared in excellent spirits now. So Radleigh must have lied about that. Was he in collusion with Smith, after all? She stared at Saunders—no, Smith—trying to fathom it.

Smith tilted his head, examining her in his turn. “Clever and brave and true. Yes, I like her. I am not, now, surprised at your choice, Jardine, though I admit to my initial bafflement. Your
other
mistress is so very . . .
different
, isn’t she?”

Louisa couldn’t restrain her gasp. Her gaze flew to Jardine’s. His expression was flinty, giving nothing away.

Saunders—Smith—had shed his mild-mannered veneer. The transformation would be remarkable, impressive, if it weren’t so terrifying.

He held out a commanding hand. “Bring her here.”

The man she’d wounded with the knife left on her supper tray shoved her in front of him, none too gently.

She lifted her chin, met Smith’s gaze. “When my brother hears of this, you’ll be sorry.”

Smith’s firm lips trembled, as if he were finding it difficult to contain his mirth. “Shall I? I wonder.”

A groan sounded from the floor. Radleigh was waking up. That made the odds even higher against them.

“Ah, alas, poor Radleigh.” Smith shook his head. “He was panting to enjoy the social status you would bring as his wife, wasn’t he, Lady Louisa? But after the regrettable incident last night, I fear our friend’s ambition to turn respectable must be at an end, don’t you? Stupid of him. If he’d played his cards right, he could have had everything he wanted, just as I promised.”

The dark, deep-set eyes turned opaque as they scanned her from head to toe. “Shall I let him have
you
, my lady?”

Louisa swallowed hard. The picture of Harriet lying bloodied and haunted in that horrid temple rose in her mind’s eye.

She didn’t answer, just stared at him doggedly, tried to block out the desperation that gripped the back of her neck, hammered in her chest.

They had to get out of this mess. Why didn’t Jardine do something?

Muttering obscenities, Radleigh slowly raised himself to his hands and knees. There was a swift movement, and his head snapped up, the momentum flipping him over. He crashed to the ground and lay still.

Jardine shrugged. “Sorry. Foot slipped.”

Smith gave the kind of indulgent smile a father might give at a young son’s playful antics. He turned to his henchmen. “Take them down.”

“A moment.” Jardine fixed Smith with his gaze. “This is between you and me, Smith. Let’s settle it now. Alone.”

“And miss all the fun I’m going to have?” Smith’s smile broadened. “I don’t think so.”

“You like to take out your inadequacies on women—”

Smith placed a hand over his heart. “Now, there, you wrong me. Not just
any
women, Lord Jardine. You are confusing me with an indiscriminate boor like Radleigh.” Dreamily, he said, “
How
your lovely Celeste screamed when Radleigh’s knife cut into her flesh. Oh yes, he was with me, even then.”

Jardine took a hasty step forward. With a warning growl, the thug’s hold on Louisa tightened. His knife pressed harder to her throat. She couldn’t stop the cry of pain and fear.

Jardine halted at the sound. With a furious glare at Louisa’s captor, he backed away, holding his palms outward.

Smith’s hateful deep voice went on. “Does Celeste still bear the scars? I thought so. Such a ripe beauty. Such a terrible waste. As I recall, she had the most glorious hair.” He smiled. “Radleigh liked it, at any rate.”

His gaze flickered toward Louisa. Nausea made her stomach pitch. She’d been right. Those locks of hair she’d found in Radleigh’s desk were trophies, not keepsakes. Had this Celeste’s tresses been among them?

Jardine’s clipped accents cut through the room. “You haven’t thought this through, have you, Smith? Faulkner knows you’re here. The net’s closing around you, and yet you waste time boring us all to tears, prosing on about how clever you are.”

He gestured in Louisa’s direction. “If you kill the daughter of a peer, you’ll create an uproar. Lyle would hunt you to the ends of the earth. Even the bigwigs who currently protect you will wash their lily-white hands of you once you cross that line.”

“And yet . . .” Smith put a fingertip to his lips. “And yet, the satisfaction of seeing you suffer while your lady love goes under the knife would be so delicious, so exquisite, that I simply cannot forgo that pleasure, come what may.”

Smith stood a head shorter than Jardine, but at that moment, he looked every bit as lethal. “Since the day you killed my brother it has been my life’s work to find a punishment befitting that crime.” He made a sweeping gesture toward Louisa. “And now, my lord Marquis, here it is.”