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Authors: Darcy Burke

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Romance, #Historical, #Regency, #Historical Romance

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BOOK: To Love a Thief
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So
perfect
.

His hand stroked up her spine and cupped the back of her neck and then her head. With his other hand, he cupped her hip and pressed her pelvis against him. Because of the difference in their height, she felt the hardness of his arousal against her belly. She arched higher on her toes, trying to fit herself to him to appease the need that had blossomed between her thighs.

His mouth slid from hers, and he languished kisses along her cheek and then down her neck. She dropped her head back as his lips worked a path to her collarbone. His hand glided upward from her hip along her ribcage until it met the underside of her breast. It was as if the contact awakened every sensation inside of her. Her breasts grew sensitive, and they tingled with anticipation. She wanted more.

Thankfully, he gave it to her. His hand cupped her breast. Then his thumb dragged over her nipple. Despite the layers of clothing keeping her flesh from his, she felt his touch as if they were skin to skin. Suddenly his mouth was at the top of her bodice. He was pushing the top of her breast up and over the edge of her gown while his mouth suckled her flesh. She couldn’t keep a moan from escaping. When had she become an utter wanton?

Then his mouth stilled, and his hold on the back of her neck loosened. Since he was supporting less of her, she came back down onto her feet, which created a cold distance between them. She opened her eyes and looked up at him in bewilderment.

“Why did you stop?” She sounded as breathless and aroused as she felt.

He made sure she was standing straight without assistance, then took a step back. He pressed his fingers to his mouth. God, did he regret kissing her? No! She didn’t want that. She moved forward, but he only retreated another step. His eyes were focused low and to the right of her and his mouth was pulled down at the corners. Lush corners she wanted to kiss again and again.

“I have to go,” he said, turning.

“Daniel, wait.” She grabbed his elbow, not caring how her actions appeared. “I don’t want you to go.”

He looked at her then, but his eyes were unreadable. “You must agree I have to. I’ll let you know what I learn from the knife. Good night.” And then he was gone from her.

Jocelyn stared at the open doorway for several minutes while her body and emotions cooled. Why had he pulled away at that moment? He’d been enjoying their embrace as much as she. Even more, she believed they at least liked each other very much. In truth, she might even feel a bit more strongly than that.

Dejectedly, she readjusted her bodice. Then she made her way to her new bedchamber with leaden feet.

 

 

Chapter Eight

 

 

 

INSIDE THE hired hack on the way to St. Giles, Daniel called himself every insult he could think of. What the hell had he been thinking, kissing her like that? She wasn’t some woman he visited in a flash house or a widow he tarried with after sharing an ale at the neighborhood pub. She was Miss Renwick. An estimable, virtuous young woman from a good family.

But now he had to wonder if she was what Aldridge purported her to be.

He could scarcely credit what Aldridge had said at White’s, but then she’d kissed him. Then he’d gotten quite carried away, and she’d allowed it. His confidence about her was more than shaken.

Nevertheless, he spent the entire trip reliving her kiss: the taste of her mouth, the feel of her body, the sound of her moan. It was all he could do not to release his cock from his drawers and finish the job they’d started.

Instead, he tried to focus on his journey into St. Giles, a rookery so foul and so corrupt that no sane police officer ever entered it at night. Unless they’d spent years cultivating mutually beneficial relationships, which Daniel had done.

However, he’d made no such affiliation with Nicky Blue, who was as vile and unlawful as they came. It had given Daniel great satisfaction to see the man locked away, if only for a short time. He doubted Nicky would be helpful, but Daniel hoped the return of his prized knife would make him at least slightly amenable. Daniel would also make it clear he wasn’t after Nicky—unless Nicky had acted alone. Making such a promise would turn Daniel’s stomach, but it was the sort of accord that would allow him to snare the prize he wanted. In this case, that was whoever was behind the theft of Jocelyn’s things.

It was nearly eleven of the clock, which meant Nicky ought to be at a flash house drinking and either eyeing a mark or waiting for a later hour to launch whatever misdeed he had plotted. The question was which flash house. Daniel would start at the outer edge of St. Giles and work his way inward.

Nearly two hours later, he’d been to six establishments and hadn’t yet found his quarry. But he wasn’t frustrated. Such was the life of a constable on the hunt. Except he wasn’t a constable anymore.

What the hell was he doing, hunting down thieves?

Helping someone he cared about
.

He realized then that he cared about Jocelyn. Perhaps she’d permitted—even invited—far more to happen tonight than a typical young lady would or should have, but he’d been glad for it. How was a man with his background supposed to get on with a simpering Society girl?

Which maybe made them a perfect match. A match he had to admit he wanted. He could see himself marrying her, was beginning to think of it seriously, in fact. He liked her fiery spirit—even her impertinent tongue—and her intelligence. That she was a warm-blooded woman unafraid to embrace her own desires only made her more attractive. Furthermore, he wanted to trust her. She’d been honest with him about taking her jewels from Lord Aldridge, and Daniel could see she’d only done it because she believed there was no other way. She’d consulted with a solicitor to try to solve the problem lawfully and when that had failed, she’d become desperate. Plus, her willingness to return the items if Daniel found that Aldridge had legally purchased them illustrated the goodness of her heart. A heart that was likely better than his own.

He made his way further into the rookery. Now and again he saw a familiar face, but more often strangers looked at him as if he were a sheep for slaughter. Outfitted in the richer trappings of a viscount instead of his former, plainer wardrobe, he likely seemed an easy mark for the denizens of St. Giles. They’d be in for a surprise if they tried to rob him. He’d have the knife out of his boot and against their throat in a trice.

He stepped into the next flash house on his mental list, the Crystal. Decorated with sparkling lanterns and flowered wallpaper, it aimed to attract wealthy, daring gentlemen out for a night of depravity in the “gutter.” He’d seen Nicky Blue here a time or two, but more importantly he’d seen some of Nicky’s associates and perhaps they’d be willing to help run him to ground—for a price, of course.

The interior was crowded with gaming tables, mostly filled at this hour. Women were sprinkled about, all of them hawking their wares, but in a more subtle fashion than those on the street. Daniel scanned the room and looked for a familiar face. He stopped when he reached the far back corner. Sconces on the wall illuminated a table with five men sitting around it. One had his back to the corner and was clearly holding court: Ethan Jagger.

Daniel made his way to the corner, the knife in his boot a welcome weight as he approached one of the highest-ranking criminals in London. Jagger was one of Gin Jimmy’s right-hand men, overseeing a large number of operations from thievery to fraud.

Jagger was roughly the same age as Daniel, maybe slightly younger, which was notable given his status. But then he’d been on the streets almost half his life—or so Daniel had gathered after many years of investigating Gin Jimmy’s sergeants—and had worked hard to achieve his rank. With jet-black hair and piercing gray eyes, Jagger was as cold and harsh as they came, but he also possessed an intelligence that would rival any barrister or official Daniel had met. It was too bad the criminal had taken the path he had. From what Daniel knew, his life could’ve been vastly different.

“If it isn’t Mr. Carlyle,” Jagger drawled. His brow arched, and he sat forward in his chair. “No! You’re
Lord
Carlyle now, aren’t you? What the devil are you doing in St. Giles?”

“Mind if I sit?” Daniel asked, grasping the back of a chair.

“Not at all. Whisky?” Jagger picked up the bottle in front of him and reached for an empty glass. The Crystal prided itself on fancy glass tumblers that were supposed to be reminiscent of the gentlemen’s clubs in St. James.

“No gin?” Daniel preferred whisky, but gin, due to its quantity, was usually the drink of choice in St. Giles.

“Not at my table. I’ve taken to drinking whisky of late.” Jagger poured him a glass, and one of his henchmen slid it across the table to Daniel.

Daniel glanced around the table and held up his glass in mock toast before taking a healthy swallow. “It’s quite good. From your personal supply?”

The corner of Jagger’s mouth hitched up. “Of course.”

Daniel set his glass back on the table. “May we speak privately?”

“Certainly.” Jagger nodded at the other four men around the table. They stood and departed without a word.

Jagger leaned back in his chair so that his head rested against the wall. “What do you want to know?”

It made sense that Jagger would assume he was here for information. The only other kind of help he provided was financial in nature, and Daniel would never want to owe money to the likes of him.

Though he despised sitting with his back to the door, Daniel knew Jagger would see his vulnerability as an expression of confidence. He expected Jagger to have his back, and because of that, Jagger would. So Daniel settled into his chair. “I’m looking for Nicky Blue.”

Jagger sipped his whisky. He kept the glass cradled in his palm as he addressed Daniel. “I haven’t seen him tonight.”

“Can you tell me where to find him? Or, better yet,” Daniel withdrew the knife from his coat pocket and set it atop the table so Jagger could see it, “can you tell me how I came to find his weapon under a bed in a house in Mayfair?”

Daniel hadn’t shown the knife at any of the other flash houses, but he was certain Jagger would recognize the distinctive piece. The question was whether Daniel could get the criminal to work with him, or if he’d claim he’d never seen it.

Jagger barely glanced at the blade. “Maybe because Nicky was shagging a Society widow?” He laughed, then sobered when Daniel didn’t laugh with him. “No sense of humor tonight? How dull. Why would I know what his knife was doing in Mayfair?”

“Because you oversee Nicky’s crew.” Daniel sat forward slightly. “Let’s not play games. I’m not a constable anymore. I’m trying to help a friend find some things that were stolen from her two years ago.”

Lifting his shoulder, Jagger maintained his aloof expression. “That’s very kind of you to help someone in need, but I fail to see why
I
should care.”

Daniel eyed the man in his rich costume that was paid for by criminal activity. Like his cohorts, Jagger dressed to intimidate, but unlike them he wasn’t garish. Except for the two rings he wore on each hand—which was excessive by fashionable standards—he looked as if he could be in any Mayfair ballroom. Indeed, if he were so inclined, he could probably march right into one tonight and claim his place. “Because deep down you might like to help someone too. Have you forgotten I know who you really are? Where you come from?”

Jagger suddenly snapped to attention, his eyes hardening. “What’s more important is that you don’t forget who I am now.” He stared at Daniel, letting the threat stand for a long moment.

“Because I am a trifle more benevolent than most, and because I can appreciate wanting to help a young woman,” he cast him a knowing glance, “I’ll tell you that Nicky targets houses in Mayfair.”

Daniel had figured as much and opened his mouth to say so, but Jagger held up a hand. “Don’t interrupt,” he said, “I’m not finished. His targets are always successful because he knows precisely where to strike.”

Suddenly Daniel understood. Nicky Blue had a man—or woman—on the inside. “He has intelligence on where to go and when.”

Jagger gave a single nod, then scanned the room behind Daniel, something a criminal like him always did as a means of defense.

“I don’t suppose you’d tell me who?”

Jagger blinked innocently. “Who what?”

Right
. “If I give you a name and I’m correct, just remain silent.” Daniel’s neck muscles bunched with anxiety. He dreaded the answer, but he had to know. “Aldridge.”

Jagger slowly brought his whisky glass to his lips and took a long drink, his eyes never leaving Daniel’s.

Damn
. Aldridge had clearly at least purchased stolen goods, but to be part of the actual theft? Daniel’s stomach briefly clenched in disbelief before anger wiped away all other emotion. The earl had been his friend, his mentor. They’d plotted together on how to improve the city’s police. Daniel had shared so many things about his life as a constable—how much of that information had Aldridge used to further his own criminal interests? And how in the hell had he gotten mixed up in all of this in the first place?

BOOK: To Love a Thief
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