Surrender to the Devil Read online

“Where is she?” Catherine asked.

  “Last I saw her was upstairs. She should be down momentarily.”

  “I want to let her know Sterling is here.”

  Claybourne narrowed his eyes. “She’s very precious to us, you know.”

  Another warning? Did he not know that one had already been delivered? “As my sister is to me,” he replied.

  Catherine sighed. “I don’t know why the two of you must always act distrustful of each other.”

  Perhaps because they knew how men thought. Sterling was growing weary of the encounter. He should simply leave. He lifted his gaze to the stairs and suddenly, nothing else mattered. She was there, standing halfway down, Swindler halting and glancing back up as though they’d been walking down together and she’d come to an unexpected stop.

  His memory of her didn’t do her justice. What he had considered vibrant had been nothing more than washed-out images. In person, her hair was a deeper red, and he knew her eyes would be a more alluring green. Her dress, buttoned clear to her chin, left everything to a man’s imagination, fueling it, making him wonder if what he envisioned could truly exist in the flesh. He thought nothing would be more satisfying than undoing each of those buttons at his leisure and discovering the treasures they kept hidden.

  Swindler said something to her—but not before giving Sterling a condescending once-over—and she jerked her attention to Swindler and smiled. The slow movement of her lips was enough to almost bring Sterling to his knees. What in God’s name was wrong with him? She wasn’t even bestowing her charms on him, but he was enchanted all the same.

  Miss Darling began to walk down the stairs. Swindler joined her, his gaze shifting between Miss Darling and Sterling as though he could see the strange bond that joined them. Sterling already knew he didn’t approve of it. He was simply grateful that no evidence of his bruised eye remained.

  “Your Grace,” Miss Darling said with a slight curtsy as she came to stand in front of him.

  Like Catherine, she had a smudge of dirt on her cheek, and he clamped his hands behind his back to stop himself from reaching out to rub it away. It didn’t detract from her perfection. In some ways, it enhanced it.

  He bowed. “Miss Darling. I’ve brought six footmen to assist you in your endeavors.”

  “How very kind of you.” She turned slightly. “Have you been introduced to Inspector Swindler from Scotland Yard?”

  “We’ve met,” he said curtly.

  Her brow furrowed slightly as she glanced suspiciously between the two men. “I see. Would you care for a tour, Your Grace?”

  “I would be most interested, thank you.” And perhaps they could dispense with some of the damned formality.

  “Jim, will you see to giving his footmen instructions?” she asked.

  “Maybe I should stay with you.” While his words were to her, he was still scrutinizing Sterling as though he considered him some reprobate.

  “We’ll be fine. The more quickly people are put to work, the sooner we’ll be done and I can start moving in orphans.” She touched Swindler’s arm, and Sterling had an irrational urge to snatch her hand away. He didn’t want her touching others, he wanted her touching him. “Please.”

  Swindler nodded. “I can never refuse you, you know that.” Then he walked off, his shoulder clipping Sterling’s as he walked by. Sterling should have anticipated that bit of bravado was coming. Instead he’d been watching Miss Darling, so he continued to give the impression he’d chosen to ignore the unspoken warning.

  “We should get back to work,” Catherine said, slipping her arm through Claybourne’s and leading him away.

  Sterling hadn’t seen enough of Catherine with her husband to judge their relationship, but it seemed she wasn’t averse to giving a few orders—and Claybourne had no qualms about following them. Once they were beyond hearing, Miss Darling said, “The upstairs is rather boring. It’s only bedchambers.”

  “I’ve never found bedchambers to be boring.”

  She blushed and glanced down at the floor, and he wished he’d bitten his tongue before speaking. He’d obviously embarrassed her. Working in Dodger’s where women often provided men with companionship, she had to possess a keen understanding of what transpired between a man and woman. He wondered if she was remembering his proposition.

  “But I suppose they are very much all alike,” he said, and her gaze shot up to his, her brow furrowed as though she was trying to determine if he was referring to her familiarity with bedchambers or his. “Where would you suggest we start?”

  “If you’ll follow me,” she said and led him down a hallway.

  She opened the door to a room with shelves lining the wall.

  “The library, I presume,” he said quietly. “I’ve a fondness for libraries.”

  Blushing becomingly, she strolled to a large window that overlooked a garden. He could see several gardeners toiling. Miss Darling was apparently determined to make this orphan asylum resemble a home as much as possible. He considered closing the door, but he supposed considering the looks Claybourne and the inspector had given him that he needed to take care not to offend or give the wrong impression. Besides, if he did close it, he might find himself deciding that gentlemanly behavior was no longer warranted. Now that he was back in her presence, he wanted her all the more.

  “I’m quite surprised you’re here,” she said softly. She faced him. “I suppose you came for an answer.”

  “Truthfully, I’m not certain why I came.” He ambled over to the window and allowed his gaze to fall on her. “That’s a lie. I know exactly why I’m here. I wanted to see you again.”

  “I’m at Dodger’s every night. I see to his books, as you know.”

  “But I imagine if I were to go into the hallways barred from customers that I might meet resistance. Tell me, Miss Darling, where do you live?”

  “I have an apartment at the back of Dodger’s.”

  He’d heard Dodger provided rooms for some of his employees. She had to be spending every farthing she’d ever earned on this enterprise. He looked at the gardeners hard at work, digging and arranging. “I’d not expected something so…elaborate. The land, the building…they cannot have come cheap. How will you maintain them?”

  “We have benefactors. Luke in particular is very generous. Perhaps you’d care to make a donation, Your Grace.”

  The devil was in her bright green eyes as she gave him an impish grin. Sunlight, which had been absent the last time they stood together in front of a window, poured over her. She had a faint sprinkling of freckles across her delicate upturned nose. He wanted to loosen the top two buttons of her blouse, just to catch a glimpse of the column of her throat. He wanted one night with her, but he wanted no moment rushed. “How much would please you, Miss Darling?”

  She licked the lips that he had tasted and desperately wished to taste again. “We’re talking about a contribution to the orphanage, aren’t we?”

  “Yes.”

  “It would come with no strings, no expectations of receiving anything in return?”

  “It seems it should come with something. A smile, perhaps. What is a smile worth to you?”

  Disappointment washed over her features, and he wondered how she could have possibly taken offense.

  “It’s wrong to place a price on things that should never carry a price,” she said.

  “Everything carries a price, Miss Darling. I would think that being raised as you were that you’d be aware of that.”

  “That’s very presumptuous of you, Your Grace, to believe you know exactly how I was raised.”

  He swore beneath his breath. She was correct. He knew nothing about the reality of her life. “I’ve somehow managed to insult you.”

  “We come from very different worlds. Have you never given anything away simply for the joy of giving it away?”

  “Ah, but you see, there is still the trade. You give away something and in return you gain joy.”

  “By that notion, se
eing the smile should be its own reward and should require no payment.”

  “I can see you’re too clever by half. All right then, I shall donate five hundred pounds to your cause.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace, and for that I shall most definitely smile.”

  And she did, a beautiful smile that lit up her entire face. He would have paid ten times that amount to keep it there, but he suspected money was not the key to her heart. His thoughts stumbled. It was not her heart he wanted. He wanted her curves, her flesh, her heat…

  Before he could convince himself it would be unwise, he settled his mouth over hers, not at all surprised to discover that it fit exactly as he remembered. He’d dreamed about it often enough during the past two weeks. She tasted of lemon and sugar. He was willing to bet the previous Earl of Claybourne wasn’t the only one with a penchant for keeping sweets handy. Moaning low, she opened her mouth fully to him and he suddenly wasn’t thinking about anything except how wonderful it felt to once again have her in his arms.

  She fit against him as no other woman ever had, as though she belonged. He cursed himself for not closing the door earlier.

  As her arms wound around his neck and her fingernails scraped along his skull, need ripped through him with a blinding fierceness. He wanted to know the full measure of her passion.

  Panting and breathless, she tore away from him. He wanted to yank her back, take her in his arms, and carry her to his coach. He wanted her in his bed. He wanted her slowly. The fire of passion burning in her eyes ignited the flames of desire within him. He’d sampled women in every country he’d visited, but he couldn’t recall wanting one more than he yearned for her.

  “Come with me.” He barely recognized the low raspy voice as his own.

  She shook her head quickly. “I can’t. I have responsibilities here.” She touched his chin as though she’d return for another kiss and just as abruptly dropped her hand to her side.

  He cradled her cheek. “Apparently I unintentionally lied earlier. It appears I came for your answer, and it seems that I have it.”

  Her lips parted—

  “Frannie?”

  She jerked away at Swindler’s voice. The inspector was standing in the doorway, flexing his hands. “We’ve got some chairs here, but we’re not sure where they’re supposed to go.”

  “I’ll be there directly.” They were words of dismissal, but Swindler stayed where he was. She turned her attention back to Sterling. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to see to some things.”

  He didn’t want to excuse her, but the polite words were leaving his mouth before he could stop them. “Yes, of course.”

  “Please feel free to look about at your leisure.” How could she suddenly sound so damned calm? She took a step away, then glanced back. “Meet me in the garden in ten minutes. I’ll have your answer then.”

  Sterling watched as she strolled out of the room in her plain dress, which for some reason didn’t appear plain at all. She touched Swindler’s arm. He looked down on her and something warm passed between them. Sterling flexed his fingers. At that moment, he thought he could bring the inspector down with a single punch. By God, he was feeling possessive in a way he never had before.

  Then Swindler glared at Sterling, before following Frannie into the hallway. Sterling turned his attention to the garden and pressed his hand to the cool window, but it failed to ease the boiling in his blood. Only one thing would accomplish that: a night with Frannie Darling.

  Ever since she’d ordered the furniture, Frannie had been envisioning where each piece would go, and now she looked at the plush bright yellow chair and couldn’t remember if it was for the sitting area in the library or the offices for one of the staff. She simply couldn’t think.

  She’d seen in his eyes that he intended to kiss her, and rather than discourage him or move beyond his reach, she’d stayed exactly where she was and welcomed his mouth playing havoc with hers. Even now, she could still taste him, smell him, feel him…

  She wanted to be with him in the garden, wanted things she could never have.

  A throat cleared and she jerked her gaze over to Jim, who was waiting for her answer, and studying her as though he was searching for something else.

  “The library,” she said smartly, deciding she could always move it later if it wasn’t where it belonged. “If you’ll excuse me—”

  He moved in front of her before she’d taken more than a couple of steps. She could see the worry and concern in his green eyes, but then he always looked at her as though he expected her to shatter at any moment. “He’s not one of us,” he said quietly.

  “Neither is Catherine, yet she and Luke get along well enough.”

  “Because he’s one of them.”

  She couldn’t chastise him for saying exactly what she’d been thinking at the wedding. She knew he worried over her, they all did—but sometimes she wanted absolute freedom, although the one time she’d sought freedom had ended in disaster. In all likelihood, this situation with Greystone would end the same way: with regrets.

  “Is it so obvious what Greystone wants, or did Jack give you a hint?” she asked.

  The muscle in his jaw jerked and his cheeks flamed red. She thought of the animosity that she’d sensed between the two men.

  “Have you spoken to Greystone?” she prodded again.

  “I delivered a message.”

  “From Jack?”

  “From both of us.”

  She loved them, she truly did, but they had to understand that she was a woman fully capable of making her own decisions. “And what, pray tell, was the message?”

  “To stay away from you.”

  And he had stayed away until today. A suspicion niggled at the back of her mind. “What did you do to him?”

  His jaw tightening, he slid his gaze over her head.

  Dread mixed with anger and disappointment roiled through her stomach. “How badly did you hurt him?”

  He brought his gaze back to her. She knew he’d never lie to her. “Not as badly as I could have, not as badly as I wanted to.”

  They came from such rough beginnings, but sometimes she grew weary of them.

  “Do you trust me?” she asked.

  “With my life.”

  “Then trust me to know how best to handle this matter.”

  “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

  She gave him a soft smile. “I don’t want that either.”

  “He won’t appreciate what you’re doing here. One of the lads I’ll be bringing you is serving three months in prison for stealing a crown. Hell of it is, he doesn’t know the difference between a shilling and a crown. Those I work with think they’re putting an end to crime when they arrest these children for petty offenses like stealing an apple. You should ask your duke how many apples he’s stolen.”

  “He’s not my duke, and why would you think he’d stolen?”

  “Just ask him.”

  She pointed back toward the chair. “The library.”

  He nodded when she knew it was the very last thing he wanted to do. “Thank you. And thank you for caring, Jim.”

  She found Greystone in the garden, intently watching the gardeners working. She had the distinct impression that he wanted to offer them advice. Could men never leave well enough alone?

  She came to stand beside him, but he was so engrossed in studying the gardeners digging up the soil that he didn’t notice her, giving her an opportunity to observe him. His profile was sharp edges, dominated by an aquiline nose and a strong jaw, a sturdy chin. He had a tiny scar on his cheek. Strange. She hadn’t remembered that from their first encounter, but then the glaring sunlight had been absent. Or was it a remnant of Jim’s visit?

  His eyelashes were dark, darker than his hair, and she wondered if his hair would eventually match their shade as he grew older. Or would it simply fade to silver, gray, or white? Silver, she decided. More distinguished. After all, he’d traveled the world. He would take his place in the H
ouse of Lords. He was a man who could make a difference if he put his mind to it. His determination was evident by the intensity with which he scrutinized so simple a task as digging dirt—to the exclusion of everything else.

  “I don’t believe those flowers will smell nearly as enticing as you,” he said quietly.

  Her heart hammered. How was it that he had such power over her without even touching her? “And here I didn’t think you were aware of my presence.”

  Turning toward her slightly, he smiled. “I’m always aware of your nearness.”

  She wished she had more experience with flirtatious games. She needed to get them back on even ground. “Our little garden must pale when compared with all the exotic plants you saw during your travels.”

  “I find nothing more beautiful than an English garden…unless it is the woman standing within it.”

  The heat of pleasure warmed her cheeks, but she’d grown up in a world where every word, action, and deed was a ruse to gain something to which one wasn’t entitled. “I fear I’m never impressed with false flattery, Your Grace.”

  “I’m saddened that you would think it false, that you’re unaware of your own attractiveness. Let me assure you, Miss Darling, that I find you incredibly lovely.” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “I’m not in the habit of kissing hags.”

  She bit back her laughter, fought not to be charmed, and knew that she blushed ever more deeply.

  As though suddenly aware of the gardeners’ proximity and ability to hear what they said, Greystone glanced around and brought them back to safer ground. “You have quite a bit of land here.”

  “I have need of it and plans for it,” she said, much more comfortable discussing her good works than herself. “Shall we take a turn about the area?”

  She wanted to get away from the gardeners, from anyone who might overhear what was certain to become a very personal conversation. He offered his arm. She wasn’t at all surprised by the firmness and strength she felt in it when she placed her hand on his. His arms had drawn her up against him, and she had the fleeting thought she’d like for him to do so again.

  As they began walking she said, “You’re quite fit, Your Grace.”