Chapter Twelve

Hugh’s mouth curved in a grin that made Ellie’s heart skip a beat. “I should lie and say yes, but the truth is no. My appearance here is a coincidence.”

“Hmm.”

He eyed the tin in her hand. “You’re buying snuff?”

“It is for my brother,” she blurted out. Heaven forbid he learn the true reason she was in the tobacconist’s shop today. She prayed he hadn’t seen Violet Lasher leave.

“The earl prefers Havana snuff.”

“Pardon?”

“If you are purchasing it for your brother, the earl will not enjoy orange-scented snuff. He used a pinch of Havana snuff when I first met with him, the same day he told me the Raven Club was for sale.”

Her cheeks grew warm. If he was trying to intimidate her, she refused to rise to the bait and give him the satisfaction of a scathing response in public. “Good to know, however, I will keep my selection.”

“Of course you will. I would not expect anything else.”

“What does that mean?” she asked.

“Only that you are the most stubborn female I have ever met.”

She glared at him. “And you are the most infuriating male I’ve ever known.”

“Touché. Come. Let us make our purchases. Then I will see you home.”

“You insult me, then decide to act the gentleman?”

Hugh plucked the tin from her hands, then walked toward the counter and the waiting clerk. Moments later, he returned to her side, a package wrapped in brown paper under his arm. “Where is your maid?”

Ellie inwardly cringed. She hadn’t summoned Alice. Her reasons for being out and about today had nothing to do with shopping. “She was indisposed.”

He arched an eyebrow. “No chaperone? Shocking, even for you, Ellie.”

“There is no need to see me home.”

“I beg to differ.”

He took her arm and led her out of the shop. It was easier to let him have his way than to fight him in public. She’d gotten what she came for. Her meeting with Violet had taken place and information exchanged. She could suffer letting Hugh escort her without arousing his suspicion.

He led her down Piccadilly, then crossed Park Lane. Her steps faltered as he kept on his path. “You are headed the wrong way.”

He tugged on her arm. “I know a shorter route through the park.”

She struggled to keep up with his long pace. Frustration, and a good amount of anger, hardened her tone. “Must you walk so quickly?”

He immediately slowed his pace. “I forget you are much smaller. It must be your biting wit.”

“What do you mean by that?” Was he mocking her? She looked up at him. He appeared pleasant and at ease while she wanted to throttle him.

“It means that at times I feel like I am in a boxing ring with you. Not a physical fight as you would imagine, but sparring an opponent just the same. Your tongue can clip tin.”

He was mocking her. He made her sound like a harpy, and the barb hurt. She shouldn’t care, but she did.

He guided her across the street and into Hyde Park. In the past, the tall trees lining the footpath had offered a pleasant reprieve from the afternoon sun on a warm spring day. But today was not turning out to be one of those pleasant days. The sky had turned gray and the sun was hidden behind clouds.

It was too early for the promenade hour, and only a few couples rode or strolled on the path. Between the hours of four and five, the park would be crowded with couples who sought to be seen more than those who desired to enjoy the outdoors.

She was still finding it hard to believe that Hugh hadn’t intended to follow her today. When it came to him, she didn’t believe in luck or coincidence.

“Shouldn’t you be at the club working on your endeavors?” she asked. “Time is passing.”

“I’m not concerned. Everything is coming along nicely. So nicely that I decided not to summon my carriage this afternoon, but take a pleasant stroll.”

She looked skyward, gaze roving over the gathering gray clouds overhead. “A pleasant stroll? The sky is darkening. It looks as if it will rain any—”

A fat raindrop landed on the tip of her nose. It was followed by a few more, then the sky opened up.

“Oh!” she cried out.

“Come quick!”

He took her hand and started to jog. She was right beside him. Within seconds, they were drenched. Clouds shifted to cover the sun, and it appeared dark as dusk. He led her beneath a footbridge over a creek for shelter. Rain pounded the bridge above them.

Her alpaca dress lay against her skin like a cold, wet blanket. She began to shiver, and gooseflesh rose on her arms.

Hugh’s brow creased in concern. “You’re freezing.”

She shook her head, her teeth chattering. She didn’t want his help, but wanted to return home, order a hot bath, and then change into dry, warm clothes. “I’ll be fine.”

“Stop being stubborn.” He pulled her into his arms and held her close.

She opened her mouth to protest, then shut it. He was blessedly warm and she was shivering. He smelled of shaving soap and his own unique male essence.

He rested his chin atop her head. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

She stiffened and made a weak attempt of pulling away. His arms tightened like bands of steel, holding her close. “You’ve been guilty of the same,” she countered.

His chest rumbled with laugher. “Ah, you’ve been watching me, haven’t you?”

Her hands were pressed against his chest. Unable to move, she felt his heartbeat through the broadcloth. His cheek brushed hers and more warmth rushed through her—a warmth that not only heated her skin, but languorously seeped into her limbs. “I have not. I just noticed. You’re the one who had initially mentioned an invisible rope binding us, then disappeared.”

“You’re right. I’ve been trying to keep my distance.”

She pulled back to look into his eyes. He allowed the infraction, but nothing more. She shouldn’t ask, shouldn’t care, but nonetheless, the question slipped from her lips. “Why?”

His eyes flared a glittering green, something shockingly possessive roaring to life in his gaze. “Because I’ve enjoyed our kisses far too much. You are a distraction, Ellie.”

She shouldn’t be flattered, but she was. Heaven help her, she was. All along, she had thought he was the distraction.

A crack of lightning flashed across the sky.

She jumped. “Everyone has fled. We should not be alone together.” The park looked gray, dreary, and abandoned. The riders had long since ridden away. The strolling couples had fled to their waiting carriages or nearby homes. Even the tall trees seemed faded and washed out as the oncoming mist bled into the park.

They were alone, caught beneath a footbridge in the middle of an afternoon rainstorm.

She glanced up at Hugh to find him staring at her. Her gaze lowered to his mouth. Oh God. She wanted to kiss him again. What was wrong with her?

She was drenched, her gown indecently clinging to her body, and pressed against him. He was just as soaked, only he wasn’t cold, but hot. She was achingly aware of every inch of contact.

“Deveril?” she asked, her voice sounding weak to her own ears.

“It’s Hugh. Call me Hugh like you used to years ago.”

Unbidden memories returned in a rush. His striking features looked even better now. His wet hair clung to him, and his lashes—long and dark—glistened from the rain.

How was it he appeared more attractive, while she must look a mess? She could only imagine what her sodden and tangled curls looked like. It wasn’t fair.

“This is wrong in many ways.” She tried to recall the incident in Lady Emberly’s garden party to firm her resolve but failed. He was with her here and now, and she wanted to seize the moment no matter how wrong. There was too much tempting heat in his touch.

“It doesn’t feel wrong to me.” The undisguised heat in his gaze made her breath quicken and her nipples harden beneath her gown.

“Hugh?”

“Ellie.”

He met her halfway. The kiss was hot and urgent. She felt like steam rose between the two of them. The rain pounding the bridge matched the rhythm of her own heart. Lightning sounded above and flashed in the periphery of her vision. She felt like she had been struck, in a daze of wondrous feelings, her body coming alive beneath his skilled hands and mouth.

He pulled back. “I can stop,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Just say the word and I can stop.”

Her heart thumped hard in her chest. She knew she should. Whatever was going on between them was wrong. He hadn’t changed in five years. Only she had.

She was smarter now. Indifferent.

Or was she?

Her gaze lowered to his lips, and something inside her shifted and gave. She wanted this. Why couldn’t she have it?

“Don’t stop.”

A primitive satisfaction flashed in his gaze. He swooped down to cover her mouth with his. He kissed her thoroughly, roughly, then moved to her ear. “You taste like summer rain and strawberries. I can’t get enough.”

His words increased her own arousal. Her hands moved to his shoulders to hold him close. She was vaguely aware of him lifting her leg to his waist, his callused hand slipping beneath the hem of her gown. “I’ve thought of little else since our last kiss. I’ve tried to stay away from you, dammit, but I cannot.”

She’d tried, too. She wanted to tell him so, but then his hand slid up her stocking, up her calf to her thigh.

Oh God.

His fingers teased her garters. He was inches away from the skin of her inner thigh. Liquid warmth pooled between her legs.

“I’ve dreamed of kissing your naked breasts, the soft skin of your hip.” His fingers slid past her garter, touched her thigh. She wanted them higher, closer to where she ached.

His lips traveled to the swell of flesh above her bodice as his fingers slid upward. She gasped and drew in a ragged breath. Her laced corset suddenly felt too tight.

“You have a freckle here.” He licked the mark above her bodice. “A pretty treasure mark. Where else may I find them?”

She’d hated her freckles, but he looked at her like she were a treasure, his treasure. Her lips parted to speak, but all thought fled when his finger touched her most sensitive woman’s flesh between her legs.

Yes. Quivering, she arched against him. Her knees felt weak, but he clutched her to him. Then he slipped a finger inside her and his thumb traced another spot that made her quiver.

She didn’t bother to fight back her moan. It escaped her on a sigh of pure bliss and echoed from beneath the bridge. Never had she believed a man could make a woman feel this way. Her eyes slid closed. She built higher and higher until she was on a precipice of some unknown pleasure, then with a last stroke of his finger, she hurtled into pure bliss.

Her eyes cracked open. Hugh was staring at her with startling intensity. She knew there was more to intimacy between a man and woman, and that he hadn’t reached fulfillment.

“Have you ever thought about us over the years?”

The question pierced her fog of desire. Had she ever thought of it? A hundred times. A thousand. All her pent-up emotions after he’d left her standing in the gardens, devastated and hurt. And still she’d thought of him. Of them together.

“Have you?” she asked.

“How could I not? You were lovely then, but now…now you are stunning.” He reached for a curl that had escaped her bun and wound it around his finger. “Red will always be my favorite color.”

He kissed her again. Passion flared inside her and she kissed him back. He picked her up and pressed her against the brick wall of the bridge, then leaned into her. She felt his arousal against her belly, hard and unyielding.

They had crossed a threshold, but she would worry about that later. He kept kissing her, and she allowed it, encouraged it. Her fingers dug into his hair, and she clutched him tighter. She wanted to confess that she had thought of him.

But before she could speak, his body stiffened, and it wasn’t his voice that echoed ominously beneath the bridge.

“Well, well. Look what we have ’ere. A blighter and his doxy.”

Ellie and Hugh whirled to see two men with dirty faces, patched corduroy jackets, and scuffed boots. One pointed a pistol at Hugh’s heart. “Hand over your coin or I’ll shoot.”