Chapter Ten

Marcus swore vehemently. “I’m going to spank you until you’re black and blue, woman! Damn it, I told you, you were not to be involved with anything to do with the Corinthian Club! You broke your promise to me.”

“No, I did not. I promised you I wouldn’t dress as a trollop. And as you can see”—she waved her hand down at her footman’s costume—“I’m not dressed as one. You couldn’t even tell it was me.” Kaitlyn smiled from beneath the beard and wig, enjoying his annoyance more than she should.

She ripped the facial pieces off one after the other, stuffing them into her trouser pockets, before pulling out the wads of cotton from inside her mouth that she’d used to create a squarer jawline. “You can be upset with me later.”

“How the devil did you even get in here?” Marcus growled, watching her like a hawk. “And dressed in the clothes of a footman, no less! Could you have gotten any more scandalously tight pants to wear?” His eyes trailed down the length of her legs, lingering on them.

“My butler was competent enough to obtain the uniform for me, and I already have a large array of wigs and facial disguises.” She felt a slight blush creep up her cheeks at his continued perusal of her legs, which suddenly felt unaccountably bare, when only moments before she’d felt liberated wearing the pants in public.

Deciding to ignore his close scrutiny, she continued, “I have an informant here who is a scullery maid, so though she can’t assist greatly with providing any sort of information, she left the servants entrance unlocked for me. I came in through there, letting loose a little diversion in the process.”

She watched him shake his head as he dragged his eyes away from her pants, muttering something to himself before he sighed loudly.

“How long do we have until he comes back?”

“That will depend on how long it takes them to wrangle a dozen piglets, ten geese, and seven rabbits from the main lobby and rooms flowing off from it.” She shrugged. “Now on to more pressing matters, if my calculations are correct,” she began, glancing over to where the desk was positioned over on the far side of the room. “The room is shorter from the inside than the outside—”

“Meaning there’s most likely a concealed room containing Dartmoore’s true office,” Marcus interrupted. “Yes, I had managed to already figure that out, without your help.” He began to walk over to the desk.

Kat followed close behind him, her eyes drifting down to appreciate the musculature of his backside before she could help herself. He was a fine specimen of a man. There was nothing wrong with her appreciating that. At least that was what she was trying to convince herself of. “You’re quite welcome for the distraction, too, by the way.”

He simply grunted as he trailed his hands along the wooden wall paneling, obviously searching for a panel that would open the concealed room.

Her gaze followed his fingers, almost hypnotically, and she found herself wondering what his fingers would feel like trailing over her own body with such deftness. Heat flooded her face just thinking the scandalous thought.

“Success!” He glanced back at her and smiled. Then he frowned. “You look all flushed. Are you all right?”

Thankfully, he couldn’t read her mind, but his words did bring her back to the present with a thud and she shook her head free of the images. There was work to be done. There was no time to daydream about taking him as a lover. “I’m just hot. It’s this outfit, I think.” She tugged at the collar of the footman’s jacket and shrugged.

Marcus nodded and then pressed the panel his hand was resting on. A loud click sounded and a door to his right swung inward. He grinned at her, then stepped into the small chamber. Kat followed him through. The room was about a quarter of the size of the main room housing it, and it contained several filing cabinets and a large desk scattered with papers.

Marcus began searching the desk while Kat started to look through the cabinets. The filing system was fairly organized and held folders that contained some dossiers on some important people.

“There’s got to be hundreds of files in these drawers!” she exclaimed, quickly going from one to the next, in search of hopefully a master list of the club’s membership. She pulled out one file and opened it, revealing several sheets of parchment with neat writing scrawled across the pages.

“I’ve found something,” Marcus said. He was holding a small, red leather journal and was quickly leafing through the pages. “It looks to be possibly some sort of transaction ledger, but what’s intriguing is it’s written in code.” He glanced back to her. “Any luck with the files?”

She shook her head and closed the file she had open, returning it to the drawer. “There’s certainly all of the members’ files within, I would say. But we have no time to go through them all.”

“Oi! What’s going on in here?” a rough voice from the concealed doorway barked.

Kat glanced over at the brawny man blocking the door only a few feet from her. He had close-shaved dark hair and appeared as if he’d come straight from the slums, even though he was dressed in a suit, ill-fitting as it was. Clearly, he was one of the men that Dartmoore paid to perform security duties at the club.

“Stay there, Kat,” Marcus said as he slowly stepped out from the desk toward the doorway. “I’ll deal with this.”

Kat smiled at Marcus. “What, and let you have all of the fun tonight? I think not.”

Before he had a chance to cross the space to where the guard was standing, Kat launched a flying front kick toward the guard, which landed squarely in his chest, knocking him back several paces into the outer room.

Kat frowned; the man was still on his feet. Well, he was built like a brick, so it would probably take a few more hits to knock him out. She ran through the door and launched herself directly at him.

The guard wore an incredulous look as Kat smiled at him, before landing another spinning kick to his side.

He expelled a breath at the impact and cursed. “You’re a bloody woman?”

“Good of you to notice.” She blocked one of his strikes and used the heel of her palm to strike his chin from underneath.

The man cursed again as his head jolted backward.

“Damn it, Kat, move away,” Marcus yelled from behind her.

But Kat paid Marcus no heed as she continued to kick the brick. The man fought back and when his fist managed to glance the side of her torso, Kat exhaled as a jarring pain lanced up the side of her body. She narrowed her eyes and threw a volley of strikes at his head. The man clearly had skills in the boxing ring and was protecting his head well with his forearms. But this wasn’t boxing.

Kat swung her leg in a side kick with all her might and landed a blow to his midsection, hoping to strike his liver. She guessed her aim had been true when he collapsed into a heap on the Persian rug, out cold.

She turned to Marcus who was standing there staring at her with an expression vacillating between extreme vexation and admiration.

“Do you ever listen?” he asked, tucking the red leather journal into his jacket pocket.

She took a second to catch her breath before answering. “Not unless I like what I hear.”

“That is obvious.”

“And did you observe how I disabled him without the need to knee him in the bollocks?”

“Lucky fellow,” Marcus remarked. “Come, we need to get out of here.”

He strode past her and grabbed her hand in his own and gently tugged her toward the door. She didn’t argue, somewhat winded from the recent exertion.

Opening the door a fraction, Marcus peeked out, before nodding back at her, then heading out into the hallway. The club was in chaos. Little piglets darted everywhere across the foyer and several geese flapped about wildly trying to evade the servants dashing around, madly attempting to catch them. Kat even caught sight of a few bunnies scurrying under some feet in the pandemonium.

“You like to make a statement, don’t you?” he whispered into her ear as they strode around the circular corridor, skirting around the lobby.

She grinned up at him. “You’re beginning to understand me.”

He simply shook his head, a semi-smile on those lips of his, as together they dodged past the mayhem and slipped out the front door. Following him down the street and around the corner, there was a carriage waiting for them, though the crests of it were hidden under black material.

The driver scampered down and opened the door to the compartment. Kat nearly groaned when she saw it was Lord Cantfield dressed as a carriage driver. It seemed she wasn’t the only one in costume today. She quickly averted her head and thankfully he didn’t seem to recognize her, though he did peer at Marcus oddly as Kat proceeded ahead of him into the carriage.

Marcus barked out orders to take them to the rear of the Montrose residence before slamming the door closed in the man’s face.

Kat heard the stairs outside being flipped up, before Cantfield climbed back onto the driver’s perch and set the carriage in motion. She sank wearily onto the soft seat across from Marcus, grateful for the plush padding of the chairs as she was only now feeling the aches and pains occasioned from her run-in with the brick.

“You disobeyed me.” Marcus’s voice was soft and measured.

Kat sat across from him and smiled grimly. “When? By attending the club or failing to listen to you about fighting the brick?”

“The brick?” Marcus looked confused for a second.

“The guard I fought, who was built like a brick,” she said.

“Oh…” Marcus nodded. “Yes, both I suppose. You disobeyed me twice.”

“Actually, you’re incorrect. I didn’t, in fact, disobey you even once.” It seemed all she was doing was enlightening or correcting him of late. “You see, I’m not yours to order about, so I can’t disobey you, as you can’t give me any commands in the first place. The quicker you understand that important aspect of our partnership, the easier it will be to deal with each other.”

“Damn it, Kaitlyn!” he growled, his notorious control slipping. “I told you not to come near the club today.”

“Yes, you did. But as I have already explained, I’m not yours to command. I’ve been running my own show for far too long now to start taking orders from anyone.”

“You need a lesson in applying some common sense.” Marcus ran a hand through his hair. “The way you’re carrying on, anyone would think I was being an ogre when I’m only trying to keep you out of harm’s way.”

“I choose my own path, Lord Westwood,” she hissed at him. “I’ll let no man try to decide anything for me!” Even a man she was ridiculously attracted to, beyond all reason.

“Well, somebody should, because clearly your own decisions make you a candidate for Bedlam!”

Kat narrowed her eyes at him. “Is it your pride that’s upset because I fooled you with my disguise? Or because I, a woman, could defend myself without need of a man to protect me?”

“Did you not see the danger that you were in?” he roared.

“And did you not see how I could protect myself from that very danger?” she yelled back at him.

“Damn it, I did!” He dragged a hand through his hair. “And bloody effectively, too.”

“Then what’s the problem?” She stared at him, exasperation mounting in her entire body.

“I’m not used to seeing a woman fighting a man to protect herself, at least not when I’m there and should be the one protecting her…”

He appeared so lost and confused, all her anger with him vanished. Marcus had been raised a gentleman through and through, and she imagined that accepting a woman could take care of herself to the point of defending herself against a man would probably take some time to get used to. “And I’m used to protecting myself, without the need for anyone else to defend me.”

“I’m beginning to realize that.”

She reached over and took his hand in hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. And as she glanced up at him and smiled in reassurance, their eyes locked, and a deep awareness charged the air. Kat felt powerless to do anything but stare at him as her heart started thrumming wildly, while his fingers began to softly trace along her palm.

How could such a simple touch send a wave of desire to her very core?

And right in that very instant, Kat wanted nothing more than to feel his kiss again. Without thinking, she leaned across and pressed her lips to his.