Lady gambit, p.6
Lady Gambit, page 6
Miss Chance’s teeth grazed her bottom lip. “I’m not sure you understand. The doctor will insist my brother remains in bed until there’s no fear of a fever. I couldn’t possibly leave him, which means I shall need a room here, too.”
Dorian froze.
His mind ran wild.
He’d spent the last few minutes considering how he’d become embroiled in this mess. He could deal with Aaron Chance. An attempted murder investigation didn’t faze him. With the help of Nora Adkins, he could discover Miss Chance’s true identity in less than a week.
But to have the woman reside in his home?
Have her roaming about in a scanty nightgown?
Dine with her at a table permanently reserved for one?
For a man used to living alone, it would be pure torture.
“You’re an intelligent woman, Miss Chance,” he began, desperate to put paid to this foolish notion. “Your brother will not permit you to stay in an unmarried man’s home.”
The lady placed the pitcher on the washstand and looked at the golden-haired man sleeping on the bed. “I’m not leaving him.” Her tone was so firm and determined the devil himself would concede. “He’s here because of my dithering. He almost died because I was afraid to tell the truth.”
“You couldn’t have known this would happen.” Of all the children abandoned on London’s dangerous streets, why should she be a target? Did she hold a valuable clue in the hazy depths of her mind? “I understand why you bear the burden of guilt, but I cannot permit you to stay here.”
She met his gaze, pinning him to the spot as she stepped closer. “Are we not friends, Mr Flynn? In the short time I’ve known you, I feel like we are. I’ve confided in you, told you things I’ve never told another soul.”
Something stirred in his chest when he recalled their conversations in Miss Darrow’s yard. There’d been a moment when he thought they were the only two people in the world who spoke the same language.
“As I told you, I value my privacy. I can count my friends on one hand. You’re my client. That’s where our association must end.”
Having spent a lifetime deprived of affection, a man built walls to keep people out. He convinced himself love was like a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. A thing of fancy that did not exist. The only thing accomplished from forming deep connections was a wealth of misery and pain.
She moved closer and touched his upper arm, the contact awakening something primitive inside him. “Please, Mr Flynn. Don’t dismiss me. Don’t push me aside because I’m a woman. I shall be no trouble. You’ll not know I’m here.”
He almost chuckled at her last remark.
She’d not left him since the moment they’d met.
“This is a pointless discussion. I’m certain your brothers will want Theodore moved to Fortune’s Den.” He stepped back, her hand slipping from his arm, bringing temporary relief. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must send word to Daventry while we await the physician.”
He left the room and closed the door, though remained on the landing, inhaling deeply and pinching the bridge of his nose.
The sooner Aaron Chance arrived, the better. There would be raised voices, vile threats, and maybe punches thrown. Displays of aggression and violence were an everyday occurrence. Only kind words, warm brown eyes and a gentle touch could bring Dorian crashing to his knees.
Chapter Five
Delphine gazed at the ominous clouds looming in the distance. Tension charged the air. There would be a storm. The heavens would grieve. Angry raindrops would lash the ground like her plump tears.
She felt the same intense sorrow.
The same need to unleash an inner fury.
She hugged herself as a mother would, with the reassurance all would be well. Except she didn’t know her mother and could not recall feeling the comfort of a parent’s unconditional love.
She turned from the window and looked at Theo asleep in the comfortable tester bed. Nausea roiled in her stomach. Nothing would ever be the same again. Soon, Aaron would arrive needing someone to blame. She could cope with his curses and angry outbursts but not the cold dread of fear in his eyes. Not the pained grimace that said his worst nightmare had come to fruition.
“Forgive me,” she whispered.
You trusted your secret to a stranger?
You should have told me.
Theo’s words entered her mind.
Guilt was the punishment for her deceit.
“I love you.” Sniffing back tears, she sat beside her brother on the bed and drew the coverlet a little higher over his injured shoulder. “You were right. I should have told you.”
Fond memories of Theo surfaced. Him running errands for one of Mrs Maloney’s customers so he could buy her new ribbons. He would pass notes to her under the table. Comforting words to help her cope with Aaron’s gruff temper. In those early days, when Aaron was fighting in the pits to put food on the table, Theo would read her stories at night to keep the thoughts of faceless monsters at bay.
He did not deserve to be shot in the street like a feral dog. Dr Skinner said he was lucky to be alive.
The sudden creak of the door drew her gaze from the bed to the plush seating area. Mr Flynn appeared, dressed in a smart black coat and grey waistcoat. He’d shaved, and his hair was damp at the ends.
He took one look at her and froze, his dominant stance faltering. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to disturb you. Mrs James said you went to lie down. I came to check on your brother.”
He’d been avoiding her since she insisted on staying.
She managed a smile. “It’s hard to rest when there’s a storm brewing. And I cannot banish the thought of impending doom.”
“Perhaps keeping busy is the answer. Miss Darrow is making broth. A family recipe handed down that’s said to aid healing. She is most keen to help.”
The stilted conversation was far removed from the honest way they’d spoken in Miss Darrow’s yard. He didn’t want her here, disrupting his life and disturbing his peace—a fact he had made abundantly clear.
“Like me, Miss Darrow feels guilty for deceiving my brother.” She stood, conscious her hair was a little wild and unkempt, and that spots of dried blood stained her bodice. Her cheeks were red and blotchy from the copious tears she had shed. “I suppose I should bathe. Hopefully, Aaron will bring clean clothes when he arrives.”
Mr Flynn drew his gold watch from his fob pocket and peered at the face before tucking it away. “I doubt there’s time. Daventry and your brother will be here shortly. I can ask Mrs James for soap and a brush if you’d like to wash your face and tidy your hair.”
She tucked a stray lock behind her ear. “Before today, I would rather die than let a man see me in this sorry state. Now it hardly matters.” With Mr Flynn, she didn’t have to hide behind a facade.
He took a hesitant step back and beckoned her to join him in the seating area. “If I may be so bold, you should make yourself presentable. It doesn’t matter to me. I fear you would look lovely in a grain sack. But one is better equipped to deal with difficult situations when looking one’s best.”
She tried to focus on his logical statement but could think of nothing other than he thought she looked lovely. “Perhaps you’re right. I’ll need my wits when I see Aaron.”
“We all will,” he said with a humourless chuckle.
While alone, she’d been consumed with the notion of vengeance. Someone would pay for hurting Theo. But who? And how might she achieve the impossible? How might she persuade her brothers to allow her to help?
“I shall protect you, sir.”
His gaze fell to her lips. “You don’t need to do that.”
“It’s the least I can do after all you have done.”
Ten feet separated them, but the magnetic pull of attraction was too strong to ignore. They both took a step forward. Unspoken words hung in the air. The need to understand why some people passed through one’s life unnoticed. Why, on a rare occasion, a stranger sent one’s world spinning.
Her cheeks grew warm. “I should attend to my hair.”
He stiffened as she closed the gap between them. “I shall send Mrs James to your room and await your brother in my study.”
She stopped a mere foot away from him, close enough to catch one last whiff of his shaving soap. “You were right. Aaron will not permit me to stay here.” For all the will in the world, how could she argue with a grieving man? “I doubt we will see each other again, Mr Flynn. Not alone, at any rate.”
His dark gaze moved over her face as if locking the image in his memory. “It’s unlikely our paths will ever cross,” he agreed.
A deep regret filled her chest. “I wish you every happiness.”
The lady who captured his heart would want for nothing.
“Have faith, Miss Chance. Life is never as bad as it seems. Out of discord comes the fairest harmony.”
“Heraclitus,” she said, recognising the quote.
His eyes widened in surprise. “Yes. I’m impressed.”
“I spend an awful lot of time at the circulating library.” Books were her solace. A place where she might live many lives without ever leaving Fortune’s Den. “Perhaps one day the catalogue of tragedies will make sense.”
He held her gaze, the power of it sending her pulse soaring. “I tell myself the same thing often. Misfortune must count for something.”
“Let’s pray there’s a glimmer of hope on the horizon soon.” She stole one last look at his muscular physique, knowing she had to leave before she said something foolish. Something she could not take back. “Goodbye, Mr Flynn.”
His breathing quickened. “Goodbye, Miss Chance.”
She had taken no more than a step towards the door when he wrapped his firm fingers around her wrist to stall her. His piercing brown eyes were upon hers again, searching, seeking, for what she had no clue.
When he spoke, his voice was deep and husky. “Despite all thoughts to the contrary, I find I cannot let you leave. Not yet. Not without knowing the taste of your lips.”
She blinked, wondering if she’d misheard. “Oh!”
He exhaled deeply and seemed annoyed with himself. “This is where you tug your arm free. Where you tell me no respectable man would say such a thing to a lady. Where you refuse to speak to me again and race out of the room, affronted.”
She did nothing. Said nothing.
How could she?
This was the most thrilling moment of her life.
“Heed my warning. You have three seconds to refuse me, madam. Three seconds before my resolve snaps and I feed this damnable craving.”
She counted silently, but curiosity got the better of her before she reached two. Unable to wait, she gripped his coat lapels and pressed her mouth to his.
They both inhaled sharply and froze.
Her heart pounded so hard it might burst through her chest.
She wasn’t sure which one of them moved first. Had she brushed her lips softly over his? Had he moulded himself to her mouth as if they were made to fit together?
One thing was certain. Everything about this moment felt right—the warmth of his lips, the enticing scent of his shaving soap, the desperate hunger in every ragged breath.
He wrapped his strong arms around her, one hand settling at the small of her back, one sliding around her nape. He held her tight to his body, the heat chasing away the cold, the guilt, the fear.
Nothing mattered but the taste of Mr Flynn.
With slow, teasing strokes, he coaxed her lips apart. Sweet mercy! He knew how to kiss. Perhaps ladies were supposed to remain pliant in a man’s embrace, a passive participant, hypnotised by his touch. This man caused a fire in her blood. A pulsing between her thighs that had her returning his kisses like a wicked wanton.
He pulled away, his mouth curling into a sensual smile. “You’re my one weakness, Miss Chance. A dangerous distraction. A delightful diversion.” He was panting. His eyes roamed over her and she felt it like a soft caress on bare skin.
“Every man has a vice. Presently, I’m yours, Mr Flynn.” She moistened her lips, silently willing him to devour her mouth again.
Don’t stop.
Don’t let this be over.
He must have heard her plea because he was on her in a heartbeat, his kisses demanding, urgent, his tongue sweeping through her lips.
The tempo reached fever pitch when she slid her tongue over his and deepened the kiss. He was suddenly everywhere, cupping her buttocks, drugging her senses, surrounding her with his powerful aura.
A knock on the door had them jumping apart.
“Who is it?” He was breathless.
“You have visitors, sir,” Mrs James called, though it was strange she didn’t enter. “There’s a carriage trundling up the drive.”
“Thank you, Mrs James. I’ll be down in a moment.”
While listening to the retreating footsteps, she stared at Mr Flynn. His flushed cheeks and mussed hair drew a smile. She was more than a little infatuated with the man who’d lost control of his steely resolve.
He scrubbed his face with his hand and sighed. “There is no excuse for my behaviour. Please know I meant no disrespect.”
She brushed a stray lock behind her ear and straightened her shoulders, though the potent thrum of lust still coursed through her veins. “It’s fair to say we both lost our heads. I’m sure we’ll refrain from succumbing to our appetites in future.” Yet she would devour his mouth in a heartbeat.
“Perhaps it’s just as well this is goodbye,” he said, the comment causing her discomfort. He was everything a woman wanted in a man. Strong. Loyal. Dependable. So ridiculously handsome she could hardly breathe.
“Because you fear you cannot exercise restraint?” Such a powerful attraction was fraught with danger. They would have to fight it whenever they were alone.
“Because one thing is apparent.” He stepped back, an air of sadness about him now. “I doubt I would ever tire of kissing you, Miss Chance.”
They both fell silent.
Neither of them dared to discuss what that meant, probably because Aaron’s imminent arrival had them hurrying from the room.
There was no time to tidy her hair or dwell on the strange emotions that left her dazed and dizzy. She was hot, so hot she could barely breathe. The pulsing between her thighs proved a dreadful distraction. Guilt joined the fray. Keen to chastise her for kissing a man while her brother lay injured in bed.
She raced downstairs.
Mr Flynn followed, his proximity stirring the hairs on her nape.
She stood in the hall, brushing creases out of her dress and patting her hair—dreading the moment she locked eyes with Aaron.
Kingsley opened the door, and her heart wrenched in two.
Aaron strode into the house. He looked pale, shaken, nothing like his usual domineering self. The news had rocked him to his core. She could see panic in his eyes, fear marring his brow.
He reached her, his cold hand cupping her elbow. “Where is he?”
“Upstairs. The chamber door is open. He’s sleeping.”
Aaron glanced at Mr Flynn, coldly assessing the man who’d saved their brother’s life, but said nothing before mounting the stairs two at a time.
Mr Daventry appeared, his expression equally grave, though he managed a smile for her before addressing Mr Flynn. “How is he?”
“Dr Skinner is confident he will make a full recovery,” Mr Flynn said calmly. He wasn’t breathless and panting as he had been mere minutes ago. Gone were the throaty moans of pleasure he had struggled to contain. “He lost a fair amount of blood. Miss Darrow is making broth. We’re focusing on letting him rest, keeping him warm and well nourished.”
“The coachman said Theodore may have died had you not come to his aid. He said the blackguards would have taken Miss Chance hostage.”
“I acted as anyone would under the circumstances,” Mr Flynn said modestly.
“We owe Mr Flynn a great debt,” Delphine said, quick to ensure Mr Daventry knew what the gentleman had sacrificed to help her. “I’m sure he never expected to be embroiled in a case of attempted murder.” Or to have to deal with her brother’s wrath.
Mr Daventry gave Mr Flynn a friendly pat on the upper arm. “Flynn has dealt with worse things. You’re lucky he was there to intervene.”
Tears gathered behind her eyes. “I was wrong to pursue personal goals.” Mr Daventry had a way of drawing a confession without saying a word. “I don’t know how to put this right, sir, but I want to try.”
Mr Daventry hit her with the truth. “After this, Aaron will lock you in an ivory tower with no means of escape. Uncovering the secrets of the past is the only way forward. Getting your brother to agree will require the utmost courage and determination.”
Amid the chaos in her mind, it was impossible to think clearly.
Mr Daventry had a sixth sense because he offered a pearl of wisdom. “In battle, one must never lose sight of the goal, else what is the point of war? The suffering has to count for something.”
Her thoughts turned to the other men she loved. “I cannot risk another casualty. Do Aramis and Christian know about the shooting?” She assumed not as the devil himself couldn’t keep them away. But they needed to know their lives were in danger, too.
“Aaron wished to determine the facts, and we cannot risk anyone following them here.” Mr Daventry glanced at the man whose mouth had the power to make magic. “Flynn prefers a private existence. Mile End is his solace, a haven from troubling investigations.”
And now his two worlds had collided, which explained his obvious frustration at having houseguests.
Mr Flynn pressed a gentle hand to her back, the intimate gesture reminding her of their fervent kisses. “Let’s retire to the drawing room and take refreshment. We’ll wait for Mr Chance to join us. I’m sure he’ll want a detailed account of events.”
Mr Daventry agreed. “Aaron will need time alone to process what has occurred. Be patient with him. He’s spent a lifetime trying to avoid such a tragedy.”
