The Runner's Enticement (Men of Circumstance Book 2) (4 page)

Providence had definitely abandoned her when, instead of retreating, the dratted man advanced further inside. What thin breath managing to escape her lungs stuck in her throat when he peered around the room . . . before pausing in her direction. She could almost feel his unfairly handsome blue eyes burrowing through the statue to espy her.

She amended her thoughts on fate when he finally turned and exited. Only to shut the door and muffle his retreating steps. She couldn’t be sure he didn’t stand guard outside.

Talisman in hand, she had no alternative but to wait, crouched in silence, and ensure he’d gone before making her escape.

Chapter 8

Nate had considered the previous night uneventful in regards to the investigation until a mighty roar from the earl’s parlor broke into his morning meal. Convinced the man was in the midst of a dire emergency, Nate rushed to the room. What he found upon entering was a version of the earl Nate had thought nonexistent. Gone was the composed, reserved, almost oblivious gentleman. In his place stood a man incensed.

The earl’s fury was such that Nate resorted to using proper address. “My Lord?”

“When I requested the best Runner on the force, I was under the mistaken impression I would be
allowed
such a simple boon!”

Nate wasn’t sure what held him more immobile, the earl’s seemingly uncharacteristic outburst, or him blatantly impugning Nate’s capabilities as a Runner. Something not even his enemies dared.

Lady Annabel brushed by Nate as she entered, leaving the scent of something floral as she rushed to her father’s side and led him to the sofa. “Papa? Are you hurt?”

Her presence seemed to calm the older man. At least to a point where he no longer hurled insults at Nate’s head.

“Of course not, dear,” he answered with a pat on her hand, restored to his composed self, discounting the extra color still staining his cheeks. “I’m sorry to have worried you.”

Brodford turned his gaze from his daughter to level his attention to Nate. Fully prepared to be berated further, Nate was once more baffled when the earl spoke. “My apologies, Frederickson. My words were uncalled for and overwrought.”

When Nate’s father managed to acknowledge the existence of his bastard son, his words held nothing but contempt and disgust. Never before faced with an apology from a nobleman outside of his brother, Nate could only mumble his acceptance.

“Why the shouting, Papa?”

A hint of anger returned to the older man’s eyes but Nate was no longer the recipient of his rage.

“Another item has been taken!”

For Nate, two things happened simultaneously. First, his certainty in his ability shifted, knowing the earl had been robbed under his well-trained eye. Quickly followed by a vow to make sure it never happened again. He’d been sent to do a job, and even though he had no desire to be dealing with a noble and his princess of a daughter, Nate had never let his personal feelings affect his job. He sure as hell wouldn’t start now.

“You are sure? Maybe you misplaced it,” Lady Annabel suggested with what seemed to be a touch of desperation in her voice. On his behalf? Probably not.

“Never in my life have I
misplaced
one of my artifacts. Even with my advancing years, I’m not about to begin.”

Damn!
Nate could have sworn the house had been secure. He’d checked all the exits and windows himself. He’d even stayed awake half the night patrolling the hallways. There was nothing leading him to believe another theft would occur. He needed to find a way to turn the situation around.

With reluctance Nate interrupted the earl—knowing it might shift the man’s ire in his direction once again. “I’ll need a description of the piece taken. It might not appear so but the latest theft may actually work in our favor. The thief will be looking to unload the item and if we work it just so, he might play right into our hand.”

“Yes. Yes. Excellent idea, Frederickson,” the earl replied with upbeat vigor.

Brodford’s turn of attitude would have sent Nate’s head spinning if he hadn’t already been familiar with the man’s shifting nature. At least he’d moved past the point of ringing a peal over Nate’s head. Even though it had been well-deserved.

As Brodford meandered to his desk to scribble down the details of the item, the sight of Lady Annabel, quietly wringing her hands, pulled Nate’s attention. Her head was hung so low he couldn’t see her expression, only the tightness of her shoulders. Could she be overly worried about her father?

Despite her being a hindrance in his investigation—and a general annoyance—he softened toward her. If he disregarded her lofty status and demeanor, she couldn’t be wholly unpleasant. Could she?

Maybe. Most likely not.

An undefined need to comfort her propelled him in her direction. “I promise to do everything in my power to capture the criminal,” he quietly uttered, his hand poised to pat her shoulder.

She snapped to attention at his soft vow. Instead of bringing her the reassurance he expected, her eyes seemed to flash a stormy blue-green before the turbulence passed and calm seas prevailed. Once again, the refined society miss.

As he studied her look of innocence, a twinge of something begged for his attention. A troubling unknown seemed to plague Lady Annabel.

Nate wouldn’t rest until he determined what it was.

Would the infernal man stop inspecting me with his all too assessing—and frustratingly attractive—eyes?
It wasn’t enough she feared her father’s reaction to her latest incident of
borrowing
would overexert him to the point of affecting his health. She now had to contend with a potentially dangerous investigator. For there was no denying the piercing look in Mr. Frederickson’s eyes was nothing short of ruthless determination.

While feverishly wishing the seat of the sofa would open into a secret escape hatch, she had no option but to forge ahead and hope one day to be forgiven for her sins. She must remember her reason for starting the entire mess. Without her continued
borrowing
, the school would cease to aid the very young ladies who needed her help.

“No one appreciates your continued devotion to the cause more than my father,” she replied to Mr. Frederickson’s guarantee, staying as close to the truth as possible. She couldn’t concur
she
valued his nosy intrusion into what would most likely be her eventual downfall.

“Here you go.” Her father handed Mr. Frederickson the paper containing the pertinent facts about the missing item. She fought the guilty flush of scarlet threatening to bloom on her cheeks. She knew every detail her father had written about the talisman, currently creating deadweight in her reticule, without having to read it.

Once she had made it safely to her room last night, Anna had memorized all aspects of the item as it had lain on her coverlet, facing her accusingly.

“I’ll instruct my men to watch specifically for this article. If your items are being stolen for their worth, they hold no value for the thief until they are sold.”

The conversation swirled around her but Anna failed to focus on the words. She didn’t know what Mr. Rollins did with the items after she made payment. But if he was caught selling them, it would all lead back to her. And destroy her father.

Saving the school might be vital and her way of keeping a piece of her mother alive. Yet again, she wondered if she was prepared to lose her father’s respect.

As before, the answer remained the same. There was no way to unravel the mayhem she’d made without seeing it through.

“I’m still waiting for a response from the office about having a set of eyes in London,” Mr. Frederickson informed her father when she resumed following the conversation. “I hope to have an answer later today.”

“I apologize again for besmirching your abilities, young man. I’m more than confident you have everything in hand. I can only chalk my outburst up to frustration. Please forgive me.”

Her father’s request for forgiveness seemed to unsettle the composed Runner. Almost as if he didn’t know what to do with the apology. Had no one apologized to him before? Considering his provoking nature,
he
might be the one usually making amends.

After a slight clearing of his throat, Mr. Frederickson found his voice. “Nothing to forgive. Any man in your situation would have done the same.”

The matter resolved, her father turned to her. “Will you be going to the school today?”

“I was on my way out the door when I heard your call.”

She figured it best to ignore the fury rising from the broad shoulders looming at her side. Hopefully her father wouldn’t connect Mr. Frederickson’s increasing ire with her alluding to the fact that while she’d plotted her escape from the house—and without her appointed bodyguard—the Runner had been enjoying his meal.

Her father’s mind clearly lingered on his missing treasure when all he gave was a distracted response to be safe as he scurried out the door in search of his secretary. Leaving her alone with the fuming Mr. Frederickson.

Unwilling to come to blows with the obstinate man once again, she attempted to ignore the argument burning in his sapphire eyes.

“Well, I’ll be leaving. Good day.”

Before she could brush by his tall frame, he caught her arm in a firm yet gentle hold and pulled her body flush with his coat lapels.

“I think not, princess.”

Confident he was about to leap into his latest tirade, she prepared herself for another verbal struggle. Instead, he continued to hold her against his strong frame as he peered down into her face. Her eyes still on the exit and her freedom, she couldn’t see his steady gaze but she felt it. All the way to her bones. Only, instead of leaving a wake of heated temper, it simply left a warmth that spread, from where her body contacted his, to all her extremities.

Finally, his murmured words weaved through the loose knot of hair on her head. “Whoever would have guessed a slight package such as yourself could be so troublesome?”

His smoothly issued slight washed over her and froze the heat left from his touch, causing her to gape at the beautiful face of a man she could only think of as the devil’s helper sent to torment her . . . in every way possible.

“Mr. Frederickson, I can’t help but notice this is the second time you’ve taken it upon yourself to manhandle my person.”

“Maybe it is about time your person was handled by a man.”

As each word fell, one by one, in the quiet room, unfamiliar tingles sparked in Anna. Never had she been on the receiving end of such direct focus from a man. Especially one with such glorious, melt-you-where-you-stand piercing blue eyes. It was rather unsettling how her body responded so acutely. How her fingers twitched with the urge to brush against the light stubble sprinkled across his jaw.

Fortunately, Anna’s good sense prevailed as she wrenched her arm free of his hold and took a step back. She ignored her inner dismay, crying out at the loss of his touch.

“Be that as it may, it would never be
your
lowly handling I desire.”

Even as the words left her lips, she wished for them back. Even more so, as she witnessed each one penetrate his mind and the icy remoteness forming in his eyes, she regretted them to the tips of her toes. The man might have provoked her outburst but she hadn’t been raised to be intentionally hurtful. Especially considering she hadn’t meant any of it. He was just so unnerving.

She started to apologize when he spoke. “My deepest apologies, Lady Annabel. It appears I’m forever overstepping my place. I’ll strive to do better.”

An undistinguishable glint in his eye contradicted his pledge. Anna feared she might have awoken something inside him best left dormant. Too late to retract her words—for she’d certainly lose footing with the maddening man—she had no alternative but to stand her ground.

More vital than ever, she must figure a way to slip the Runner’s incessant watch, and deliver payment to Mr. Rollins. Her escape this morning had been within reach before her father’s outburst. Even with her freedom on the other side of the front door, she hadn’t hesitated to rush to her father’s side.

When she’d seen her bodyguard engrossed in his morning meal, she’d felt luck might have finally been with her. That perhaps some divine force was validating her quest.

She hated to think what the same force might be imparting, after her failure to sneak away.

“Notwithstanding your aversion to my
handling
, we still need to discuss your attempt to flee to the school, alone. If not an actual agreement, I thought we’d come to a compromise that you’d behave yourself and allow me to do my job.”

Anna had to remind herself she was a grown woman and not the disobedient child his words evoked. She hadn’t attempted to escape him in spite. All she’d worked so hard to achieve rested with her ability to work around the unmovable Runner. She couldn’t allow herself to be swayed. Though making the man her enemy wouldn’t help her cause.

“You are right, Mr. Frederickson. I’ll strive to do better,” she replied with a taunt of his earlier words. Something about him kept her from being entirely cordial.

A slight grin lifted his lips, giving her a flash of a dimple that sent her insides spinning once again.
Heaven help me if he ever decides to become amiable.

“To ensure we are on the same footing, I insist we shake hands to seal the deal.” This time his smile reached his eyes.

She wanted to argue that her word should suffice but it would hardly support her avowal to do better. With no other choice, she put her hand out, which he swiftly swallowed in his. To her regret, he didn’t stop with a quick pump of their hands to signal an agreement. Instead, he held her motionless while he caressed small circles on her hand with his thumb.

His words interrupted the slow tingle floating up her arm. “One way or another, princess, I do believe our fate is sealed.”

As ambiguous as his claim, she couldn’t help but think he had the right of it.