Desire gazed at Jakob for several long, disbelieving moments. He smiled a little quizzically, but did not otherwise seem disturbed by her intense scrutiny.
At last she dragged in a deep, indignant breath.
‘If you are who you say you are—and I have no proof of that!—then what did you mean by sneaking on to my roof like a common thief?’ she demanded. ‘And taking orders from that…that dead man?’
‘He wasn’t dead when I took his orders,’ Jakob replied calmly.
‘He was…’ Desire tried to think of a suitable term of abuse for the man who’d died in her lavender.
‘Yes, he was,’ Jakob agreed quickly, obviously trying to forestall any further observations she might make about the dead man.
‘Has your grandfather disowned you, that you’ve been obliged to stoop to such—’
Jakob put one of his bandaged hands over her mouth. He held her shoulder steady with his other hand. His action took Desire completely by surprise.
‘Lady, I know you have little reason to think well of me,’ he said softly, ‘but it would be to your advantage to be a little more discreet.’
Desire seized his forearm and tried to drag his hand away from her mouth. He was far from hurting her, but she was outraged by his attempt to silence her. She felt the steely sinews beneath the fine lace. She knew she couldn’t force him to move his arm. She strained her neck as far back as she could instead, in a determined attempt to free her mouth.
He released her, apparently amused by her obvious annoyance. But his posture became noticeably more wary.
‘Discreet?’ she exclaimed. ‘You want me to be more discreet? You’re the one who—’
Jakob threw up one bandaged hand. ‘A truce, lady!’ he exclaimed. ‘I’m hungry, and you must be too. May we at least call a truce until after supper?’
Somewhat to Jakob’s surprise, but definitely to his relief, Desire acquiesced to his proposed truce. Rescuing her was turning out to be more complicated than he’d anticipated. When he’d first hauled her off her roof he’d thought she would be safe in Putney. He’d also hoped he could leave her there while he dealt with the problem of who had really ordered her abduction. That clearly wasn’t going to be possible. And his connection to Kilverdale added another layer of difficulty. Jakob didn’t know exactly why Desire held his cousin in such abhorrence, but it might make it harder to convince her of the truth of his story. He wouldn’t even attempt to explain his part in the attempt to abduct her until he’d won a little more of her trust.
In the meantime, he was pleased to see that she had a robust appetite. It partially compensated him for the annoyance he felt when she turned her face away from him. It also exasperated him to see her wearing the housekeeper’s over-large clothes. He knew she had a trim waist—he’d had his hands on it more than once—but the stiff boning of the housekeeper’s bodice held its shape so stubbornly Desire appeared to be with child.
He frowned, wondering where he could obtain more suitable garments for her. All his knowledge of women suggested they felt at a disadvantage if they were not dressed at their best. It might irritate him when Desire turned her face from him, but he understood why she was wary of showing her scars to others. There was nothing he could do about her face, but he hoped that if she didn’t have to worry about looking pregnant every time she sat down she might feel a little more confident about meeting new people. Although Desire didn’t know it yet, Jakob couldn’t see any help for it—until this business was satisfactorily resolved she would be meeting a lot of new people.
‘Why are you scowling?’ she asked suddenly. ‘Don’t you eat mutton in Sweden?’
‘We have to do something about your clothes!’ he announced, following his own train of thought. ‘Was that the best you could do?’
‘The housekeeper isn’t the same shape as me.’ Desire looked down at her oddly protuberant stomach. She touched it experimentally, as if she didn’t really think it was part of her—which it wasn’t. Then, to Jakob’s astonishment, she started to laugh. Her laughter made the false stomach wobble—and that made her laugh even harder.
Jakob glared at her, somewhat put out because he’d been feeling sorry for her and now he felt like a fool for his concern.
‘Oh, don’t…don’t…’ Desire gasped, between gusts of laughter. ‘Don’t look so disapproving. Just because you look like an angel…’
‘I what?’
‘You know you do.’ Desire wiped her eyes, sounding far more relaxed than she had done earlier. ‘If I must not hide my face from you, you cannot deny that truth either.’
‘That I look like an angel?’ Jakob demanded, strangely unsettled by her claim.
‘You can’t deny it,’ Desire repeated, her composure regained.
‘I’ll not deny I’m not displeasing to the eye,’ Jakob conceded warily.
‘Not displeasing…?’ she mocked gently. ‘You are beautiful, and well you know it.’
‘Pale hair is unusual in England—that’s all,’ Jakob countered edgily, increasingly uncomfortable with the subject. ‘It isn’t so in Sweden.’
‘Then Sweden is a land full of mortal men who look like angels?’ Desire queried, raising her eyebrows. ‘I’ve never heard that before.’
‘I do not look like an angel!’ Jakob thumped his fist unwarily on the table, then winced. ‘Heliga guds moder! I am a soldier!’
‘Did not Jacob spend an entire night wrestling with an angel?’ Desire retorted, undisturbed by his anger. ‘I see no contradiction in the fact that you have the face of an angel and the body of a warrior. No doubt you often take advantage of your…advantages.’
‘My advantages?’ Jakob repeated, seeing the faint blush creep up Desire’s neck as she gave an inordinate amount of attention to a dish of roasted pigeons. ‘In what way do you consider it to my advantage that I have the face of an angel and the body of a warrior?’
‘It is obviously very necessary for a soldier to have the skills of a warrior,’ Desire said, frowning severely.
‘And my…er…angel face?’ Jakob’s lips twisted a little as he said the words out loud, but he was far too interested in Desire’s reply to coddle his own sensibilities.
‘Useful for deceiving the enemy,’ she said energetically. ‘As, in fact, you deceived me the first time I saw you. If I hadn’t mistook you for an angel, I would never—’
‘You what?’ Jakob had received many compliments about his handsome face—and the occasional insult. But no one had ever before mistaken him, however briefly, for a real angel.
‘You really thought I was an angel?’ he said incredulously. It seemed to be out of keeping with Desire’s usually down-to-earth personality.
She blushed and glanced away. ‘It was the fault of the sun,’ she mumbled, obviously embarrassed. ‘It made you glow all over…all golden. Just like an angel. But as soon as the sun stopped shining on you, you looked like a mere man,’ she added with spirit. ‘And then you turned out to be worse than a mere man. In fact, you—’
‘Yes, very well,’ said Jakob hastily. ‘Let’s not discuss that now.’
He remembered how at the time he’d been surprised by Desire’s initial reaction to his sudden appearance on her roof. She’d stared at him as if he were a ghost. He’d even wondered if she’d lost her wits. At least he now had an explanation for her strange behaviour.
And she thought his face and his warrior’s body were advantages to him. He’d seen how her eyes had strayed time and again to his naked chest and arms as he rowed the boat. He pleased her. His chest inflated with masculine satisfaction at his certain awareness of that fact.
‘You don’t have to smile—so smugly proud of yourself!’ Desire snapped. ‘I’ll not make the mistake of confusing you with an angel again.’
‘I hope not,’ Jakob retorted. ‘If you treat me as a man, you will find our encounters much more to your satisfaction.’
Desire gasped at his blunt comment. Then her brown eyes blazed with hot indignation.
‘Don’t mock me!’ she said. ‘And don’t think—because you are beautiful and I am not—that I am flattered to be the butt of such crudity. Other women may fawn over you—but I won’t do so.’
She stood up and strode over to stand by the window, her back towards him.
Jakob had dismissed the servants once they’d had finished laying out the supper. He was not sure now whether to be glad or sorry for their absence. If they had been present, the conversation would not have got so out of hand, but he was more to blame for that than Desire. He disliked being forced into inactivity when there was so much chaos all around him, so many questions unanswered and so much to be done. He’d relieved his frustration by provoking Desire with outrageous comments; she had fired up so rewardingly, but he didn’t want to hurt her.
He rose and followed her over to the window.
Desire stared at the window shutters. She crossed her arms over her chest, but she kept her head up. She felt like a fool. She should never have revealed she’d mistaken Jakob for an angel. Not even for an instant. Nor should she have told him about her intention to marry Arscott. Now he knew she’d been willing to contemplate marriage with her steward, he must believe she was desperate for a husband. No wonder he made fun of her—mocked her with a reference to his manly capacity to satisfy her.
She heard footsteps behind her, but she didn’t turn round. He might accuse her of hiding, but she felt more exposed than she had for years. All the safety and certainty of her normal life had been stripped away. She still didn’t even know why Jakob had abducted—or, as he put it, rescued—her from London that afternoon.
‘You have told me how I appear in your eyes,’ he said quietly. ‘Some of the ways at least…abductor, lecher, angel…’
Desire jerked her shoulders in protest at the wry amusement in his voice.
‘You don’t know how you look to my eyes,’ he continued. ‘So I will tell you. When I first met you I noticed the scars. But from the moment you pointed that pistol at me…I never saw the scars again.’
‘You were afraid I was going to kill you,’ Desire whispered, blinking back tears. ‘No one cares about looks at a time like that.’
‘I cared a great deal about the look in your eyes,’ Jakob responded. ‘It was the only clue I had as to whether you were really going to shoot me.’
‘I would have done, if you’d come one step closer.’
‘I know. You are a very brave woman. Determined, resourceful—irritating as the devil on occasion.’
Desire sniffed. ‘You can’t expect the victim of an abduction to be sweet and amenable,’ she said, but her defiance was only half-hearted at best. She was too tired and her spirit too bruised to endure another heated conversation.
‘You have beautiful eyes, my lady,’ said Jakob simply. ‘Beautiful hair that tempts a man to touch. Beautiful lips that disrupt rational thought when a man comes too close to them. A shapely body that should be clothed in silk and satin, or, better yet, not clothed at all. This is what I see when I look at you.’
Desire gasped and covered her face with her hands. No one had ever before told her that any aspect of her person was beautiful. She had never expected to hear such words from Jakob. A sob rose in her throat. She felt his touch on her shoulder and pulled away from him, humiliated that she was about to cry in good earnest. She ran past him and out of the room, past several startled servants, heading for the sanctuary of her temporary bedchamber.
The house was dark and still when Desire tiptoed to her door. She hesitated a moment, building up her courage for what she was about to do. Until Jakob had forcibly taken her from Godwin House she had never left the shelter of her home without an escort. The thought of making her own way back to the Strand was a daunting one—but she did not see that she had any option.
She still had no idea why Jakob had abducted her, but discovery of his true rank—if he’d been telling the truth—did not necessarily make her situation any more secure. It was only eighteen months earlier that the Earl of Rochester’s men had seized an heiress from her coach. It was true that Lord Rochester had been consigned to the Tower for a few weeks but, according to gossip Arscott had heard, the Earl had not lost the King’s favour. Arscott had rather cynically suggested Rochester had not been punished for attempting the abduction—but for bungling it. The King had even made Lord Rochester a Gentleman of the Bedchamber a few months later.
Jakob, on the contrary, had not bungled his forced removal of Desire from her home and, from what she’d heard, his grandfather, the Earl of Swiftbourne, was high in the King’s favour. Desire did not know exactly what Jakob had in mind for her, but she was sure it would be best for her to escape at the first opportunity. She didn’t have either the skill or the strength to row against the current back to London, but she had been trying to mark the hours since the last change in the tide. If she left quickly, she would be able to take advantage of the ebb tide to carry her back to the Strand.
She had picked up the key to the river-gate from the bottom of the boat and hidden it in her pocket while Jakob was mooring the small vessel. Once she was safely back at Godwin House, she could wait for Arscott or other members of her household to find her. Even if the house itself had burned, she could hide in the gardens until they returned for her. She had no doubt Arscott would return to Godwin House as soon as he discovered she was missing.
She bit her lip, wondering if Jakob would accuse her of cowardice for running away like a thief in the night. He had told her she had beautiful eyes and lips that disrupted a man’s thoughts…
Nobody…no man…had ever said anything like that to her before. Much less implied it would give him pleasure to see her without her clothes…
She would think about it later. It wasn’t safe to think about it now.
She eased the door slowly open, listening intently for any sound of human activity. The gallery was dark and silent. She heard nothing and opened the door wide enough to walk through.
‘Don’t tread on me,’ said Jakob, from the shadows at her feet.
She had been about to take a step forward and she was too startled to alter her intentions. She gave a muffled scream as she tripped over his legs and ended up in a heap on the floor beside him.
Jakob grunted as one flailing elbow struck him in the chest.
Desire’s heart raced with surprise and alarm. Her legs were all tangled up in her borrowed skirt. She couldn’t get her arms free to push herself away from Jakob. It was too dark for her to see anything except his dark silhouette as he managed to subdue her struggles and roll half on top of her.
‘Get off!’ she panted.
‘Only when you promise not to attack me again.’ He sounded as winded as she felt.
‘I didn’t attack you, you numskull!’ she flung at him. ‘I fell over you—like a stupid great log in my way.’
‘Unlike a lump of wood, I’m sensitive to clumsy feet and jabbing elbows!’ he retorted. ‘Lie still.’
Desire stopped struggling and breathed deeply for a few moments, trying to gain some kind of understanding of the bizarre situation in which she’d suddenly found herself. Both of her legs were pinned beneath one of Jakob’s powerful thighs. His upper body rested half on hers and he’d managed to gain control of one of her wrists. It was too dark for her to see his face, but she could feel the rhythmic pressure of his broad chest against her body as he breathed in and out.
Something tickled her cheek and then her nose in a very irritating way. She wrinkled her nose, trying not to sneeze, then realised what was annoying her.
‘Get your hair out of my face,’ she ordered him. ‘It’s going to make me sneeze.’
‘My angel hair, you mean.’ He tossed his head back, presumably in an attempt to fulfil her wishes.
She heaved up against him, outraged by his teasing. He moved his body over hers, so she was more securely pinned, though he did not exert any undue pressure on her softer form, or hurt her in any way.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked nervously.
‘Protecting myself from further injury,’ he replied. ‘You make a more comfortable resting place than the floorboards.’
‘Why are you sleeping on the floor by my door?’ Desire demanded.
She’d already guessed the answer to that question, but she was afraid to stop talking in case he—or she—gave too much thought to the unconventional circumstances of their conversation.
‘To stop you escaping, of course.’ He moved cautiously, managing to prop himself up squarely on his elbows, which were braced on either side of her body.
‘You could have just locked me in.’ She flexed her arms carefully, wondering if she now had enough room to slip them out of his grasp.
‘True. But then you would probably have climbed out of the window. Given a choice of lying on floorboards outside your door, or gravel under your window, I decided in favour of the floorboards,’ said Jakob, sounding annoyingly cheerful about the situation.
‘I see.’
‘There was always a chance you’d behave in a reasonable way—in which case you’d never have known,’ he offered.
‘You wouldn’t be a reasonable prisoner,’ Desire scoffed.
‘On the contrary, I was an extremely reasonable prisoner—right up till the moment I escaped.’
‘How…never mind.’ Desire muttered.
She was very conscious of the warm, hard length of his body pressed against hers. He possessed a potent masculinity that she found both disturbing and exciting. It was only an hour or two ago he had told her flattering things about her lips and eyes. What if…?
His chest heaved in a great sigh. In an agile move he rolled clear of her, sprang to his feet and reached down to help her up. Bewildered by his sudden action, she allowed him to lead her back into the chamber and close the door behind them.
There was more light inside the room. She’d opened the shutters while she was waiting for the right moment to escape. Moonlight threw a cool, pale patch of brightness across part of the floor and the large, four-posted bed.
Jakob towed her inexorably towards that bed, then picked her up and dumped her on it before she had a chance to object. She bounced back up again, but he grabbed her wrists before she could do any more.
‘I’m tired, you’re tired—or you should be after such an exhausting day,’ he said. ‘At least let us have our next argument lying down in comfort. Maybe you’ll fall asleep,’ he added hopefully.
‘Hah!’ Desire allowed him to press her gently back on to the mattress. She held her body tense and wary as he stretched out his powerful form beside her. She was ready—but for what, she wasn’t sure.
He was silent for several minutes. At last she rolled on to her side, impatient for him to say something. In the moonlight she saw that his eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. He was asleep!
Desire watched him in fascination for a while. Now that she didn’t have to worry about him noticing her look at him, she indulged her curiosity. He had a very nice mouth, she thought. And long, straight, powerful limbs that only a little while ago he had used to gently restrain her. He was an enigma to her. She could not remember being so curious about a man in all her life. But since he was asleep she could not waste this opportunity. She began to slide cautiously to the edge of the mattress.
His hand shot out and caught her wrist. Neither his minor injuries nor the bandages had done much to slow his reflexes.
Desire threw a startled glance at his face, but he hadn’t even opened his eyes, though his far-too-arrogant mouth had quirked into an irritatingly superior smile.
‘Where, precisely, are you planning to go?’ he asked.
‘How could you lie about on the floor in lace and brocade?’ Desire asked, scandalised. ‘They aren’t even your clothes.’
His smile broadened into a grin. ‘Would you have preferred me to lie on the floor naked?’ he enquired. ‘As I recall, you did order me to remove my clothes earlier. I will, if you will, my lady.’
Desire opened her mouth to make a hasty retort, then thought better of it. Her previous attempts to put Jakob in his place had all been noteworthy for their lack of success. She would give some thought to finding a more effective way of spiking his guns. In the meantime, she would not let him ruffle her temper with his teasing comments.
She relaxed back on to the bed. She was very tired and Jakob didn’t seem inclined to do anything…inappropriate. Mainly he seemed inclined to sleep, although she couldn’t be sure he actually was asleep—which was a tendency she found particularly frustrating in him.
‘If you’re planning to go to sleep, you could at least go to sleep,’ she muttered rebelliously.
He grinned. ‘To give you a better chance to escape?’ he murmured, still with his eyes closed.
To Desire’s annoyance he hadn’t looked at her or even opened his eyes once since he’d laid down on the bed.
She huffed wordlessly and pulled her arm out of his grip so she could tuck both hands under her cheek as she lay on her side looking at him.
‘At least you haven’t taken off your bandages,’ she said. ‘You should be taking care of your hands—not going around seizing people with them.’
‘You’re the only person I’ve seized,’ he replied, his voice drowsier than before. ‘And apart from your sharp elbows, mostly you’re quite soft. Pleasing to the touch—even for a man with sore hands. Though you’d feel much nicer without your clothes, I’m sure.’
Desire swallowed, not quite certain if Jakob was fully aware of what he was saying, or if these were the sleep-hazed musings of a very weary man. She held her breath, waiting to see if he would say anything else. She liked being told nice things about herself. It might be foolish, but she couldn’t help it.
He sighed deeply, then he turned his head and looked directly at her. She couldn’t see his expression in the moonlight, but she knew she had his full attention. She felt herself blushing, afraid he would guess what she had been thinking.
‘Älskling, don’t run from me,’ he said softly. He rolled on to his side so he was lying face to face with her, only a few inches separating them. ‘I don’t know what dangers you may be running into—and I can’t protect you if you’re not close by.’
‘You’re the biggest danger,’ she retorted, although she didn’t entirely believe that.
In her mind the Duke of Kilverdale was a much greater threat to her safety. She doubted if he would content himself with sleeping in front of her door if he had her in his power.
‘The man who hired Potticary is your biggest danger,’ said Jakob, startling her.
‘Potticary?’
‘The man who died in your lavender,’ he said.
‘His name was Potticary?’ Until that moment he had simply been a nameless villain who had invaded her house. ‘Someone hired him?’ she added, with a kick of anxiety.
On Saturday, Desire had assumed Potticary had been acting on his own behalf. When Jakob had revealed Potticary hadn’t intended to marry her himself, her suspicions had focussed on Kilverdale. But now it seemed Jakob was suggesting someone else was behind the original attempt to abduct her.
‘Who hired him?’ she demanded. ‘Kilverdale?’ Despite Jakob’s reassurances she couldn’t quite let go of her prejudice against the Duke. ‘What about you? Who hired you?’
‘Potticary hired me,’ Jakob replied. ‘To assist in your abduction.’
‘You admit it!’ Desire bounced into a sitting position. ‘You scurvy, double-dealing—’
‘Yes, yes. You’ve said all that before,’ Jakob interrupted impatiently. ‘My motives for getting involved were entirely honourable. Though damned if I don’t wish I’d left you to your fate. At least I’d be able to get a peaceful night’s sleep.’
‘Hmm.’ Desire chewed her lip. She wasn’t used to interrogating criminals. It was important she asked the right questions.
‘And you’re sure Kilverdale had nothing to do with it?’ she said.
‘Quite sure.’
‘Then how did you get involved?’ she demanded. ‘Do you make a habit of consorting with thieves and scoundrels?’
‘No. I had a unlucky encounter in a Dover tavern. Let us sleep now.’ Jakob locked one hand around her wrist, rolled on to his back and closed his eyes.