Seduced at Midnight

Chapter 21

Fighting down the panic that threatened to overwhelm him, Gideon pushed his way through the surging, shouting, anxious crowd. Many people tried to waylay him, but he shook them off, cursing each second-long delay.

By the time he broke free and ran through the open French windows onto the flagstone terrace, he judged nearly four minutes had passed. Most likely Julianne's abductors had either a horse or carriage nearby. Probably in the mews. Pausing only long enough to slip his knife from his boot, he sprinted across the grass toward the back of the garden, gaze scanning, ears straining. Up ahead, near the gate leading to the mews he saw something pale against the dark ground. Heart pounding, he raced toward the object.

He halted and with a combination of hope and dread he bent down to retrieve it. And found himself holding one of Julianne's satin slippers, the intricate beadwork matching that of her gown. He grimly tucked it into his jacket and opened the gate. Bloody hell, which way had they gone? He looked to his right. Empty. Looking to his left, he saw something on the ground, visible in the moonlight, about thirty feet away. He ran toward it then bent down to scoop it up. Julianne's other shoe. Had she inadvertently lost them while struggling with her kidnappers or purposely kicked them off to provide him with clues? Gideon didn't know, but he was grateful just the same.

He raced through the alleyway, halting when he reached the street. No sign of a horse or carriage. Now where? Toward the park? The river?

His gaze fastened on an object about twenty feet away, on the ground beneath the dull yellow haze of a gaslight, and he raced toward it. He was still more than a dozen feet away when he recognized it as Julianne's reticule. He quickly opened it and discovered only two items: a handkerchief and a button… a button he recognized as the one he'd ripped from his breeches in his haste last night. She'd found it. And kept it with her. He ruthlessly shoved aside all the emotions that evoked and frowned. Odd that the reticule was directly under the light. Almost as if it had been purposely placed there.

He looked ahead and saw something beneath another gas lamp in the distance. He raced ahead. And his suspicions were confirmed when he discovered a woman's white lace glove. Just like the one Julianne had worn tonight.

These clues were simply too perfectly placed. Someone wanted him to find them. Which meant it was either Julianne trying to lead him to her.

Or her abductors, trying to lead him into a trap.

Julianne closed her eyes and tried to fight off the panic pressing in on her by pretending she wasn't engulfed in suffocating darkness. That the hood covering her head wasn't really there. By concentrating on figuring out a way to escape. And she couldn't do that if she succumbed to the terror threatening to swallow her.

In the blink of an eye, one of her abductors had grabbed her from behind and clamped a beefy hand over her mouth. Before she could even assimilate what was happening, a foul-tasting rag was stuffed in her mouth, a hood dropped over her head, and she was swiftly carried away.

Two men. There were two men. Both very strong. One held her around her knees, the other around her shoulders. She tried to kick and claw, twist and squirm, but they held her too firmly.

Running, they were running, and between the jouncing and foul rag and the hood engulfing her and the fear strangling her, nausea rose in her throat. She heard what sounded like a gate opening and closing. Her reticule was wrenched from her wrist, her shoes and gloves yanked off.

Then she felt as if she were being heaved upward like a sack of potatoes. She landed on her stomach with enough force to knock the wind from her lungs. After several seconds she managed to pull in an unsteady breath. The smell of leather and horseflesh assaulted her. Dear God, she'd been tossed over a saddle. Rough ropes quickly bound her hands behind her back and her ankles together.

"Ye just keep quiet and still." The rough whisper, muffled by her hood, sounded next to her ear. "Unless ye want yer friends to suffer needlessly."

Someone mounted the horse, and she was lifted as if she weighed no more than a feather and laid facedown across hard thighs. The horse took off at a gallop and a hand pressed into her back to keep her in place. She heard another horse following closely behind, clearly the other kidnapper.

Gideon…Gideon would come after her, and she didn't know if she were more terrified that he would find her or that he wouldn't. If he didn't, God only knows what these two men meant to do with her. But if he did find her, with two kidnappers and only one of him, Gideon could be overpowered.

Her body bounced against the saddle, each jounce shooting pain through her. It seemed as if they rode for an eternity, but it couldn't have been more than a quarter hour before they slowed down. After another few minutes they stopped, and Julianne was pulled down and slung over a burly shoulder. She thumped there for another minute or so, and with each bump against the man's wide back, her dread grew. But along with that dread came an unexpected surge of fury. By God, she wasn't going to allow these ruffians to hurt her-or Gideon, if he found her-without a fight.

She heard the squeak of a door with unoiled hinges opening. A few minutes later she was lowered to the ground where she landed with a less-than-gentle thunk. She forced herself to remain still. Perhaps if they believed her unconscious they'd remove the hood. Or speak freely in front of her. And if she discovered a way to lash out at them, she'd have the element of surprise on her side.

"Ye didn't hurt her, did ye?" asked one of the men. "'Cause we ain't supposed to hurt her."

A statement that lent her a bit of comfort.

"Naw. She just bounced about a bit," said the second man.

"But she's one o' them delicate ladies. And she ain't movin' none. Ain't her but the Runner we're supposed to kill."

A statement that struck utter terror in her heart.

"Maybe she can't breathe with that hood," the second man continued, sounding a little worried. She felt a hand clasp her shoulder and give her a slight shake. "She ain't movin'." A second later, the hood was pulled off. Julianne forced herself to remain immobile and keep her eyes closed. She felt rough fingers press against her neck.

"She's alive," the man said, clearly relieved. "Just swooned."

"Good. Then we don't need to worry about her. Let's keep watch for the Runner."

Their footsteps echoed, moving away from her, and Julianne peeked her eyes open. She was lying on the wooden floor of what, based on the crates stacked around her, appeared to be a warehouse. About twenty feet away, a sliver of moonlight spilled through one dirty window, a pane of glass her abductors were looking through.

Julianne wriggled her fingers and feet, but she was securely bound. If only she had something sharp to cut through the ropes. If only she had her embroidery scissors!

Moving carefully so as not to make any noise, and keeping her eyes on her abductors, she worked to free her hands. The men were engrossed in their whispered conversation, which she unfortunately could not hear.

As she tried to escape her bonds, she also used her tongue and teeth and lips to push the rag from her mouth. If she couldn't get free, at least she could scream out a warning to Gideon when he arrived.

The rough ropes bit into her skin, stinging her flesh, but she kept sawing her wrists back and forth, one painful stroke at a time, still working on the rag. She soon managed to get the rag out of her mouth but held it between her teeth in case her kidnappers looked her way. Elation filled her at her success, but unfortunately, loosening the rope wasn't going as well. Her fingers were numb and stiff, the rope coarse and stubborn. Sweat trickled down her spine, and her arms ached from her frantic efforts.

Just then the unmistakable squeak of the unoiled door opening sounded, and Julianne's heart stuttered. There was no doubt in her mind who had arrived.

Clearly her abductors knew as well, because they both left their post by the window and moved silently toward her. Her stomach turned when she saw they both carried knives.

Pulling in a mighty breath, she spat out the rag and yelled, "There're two of them, Gideon! They have knives, and they mean to kill you."

A flurry of obscenities came from her kidnappers, and they ran toward her. One of them, a bearded man with dark, matted hair and small, close-set eyes, growled at her, "Shut up," while trying to stuff the rag back in her mouth.

Julianne furiously twisted her head back and forth to thwart him. "If you think you're going to kill Gideon Mayne, you're a fool," she taunted, desperate to keep his attention on her as long as possible. "He could slice you into pieces while blindfolded and shackled."

The man went suddenly still and stared at her. Then he muttered a foul word and turned toward his accomplice. "Christ, Will," he said in a hissing whisper, "did ye hear that? The Runner wot's comin' for her is bloody Gideon Mayne."

Even in the darkness Julianne could see that the man named Will paled. "Damn me to hell and back," Will whispered. "Wot are we gonna do, Perdy?"

"I don't know. But I know wot we ain't gonna do."

Will swallowed audibly and nodded. "Right." He cleared his throat then called out, "Listen here, Gideon Mayne. We want to talk to ye. We haven't hurt the lady, and we ain't gonna hurt you neither."

"Don't believe them, Gideon. They said they were going to kill y-"

Her words were cut off when Perdy clapped his hand over her mouth. "Shut up or I'll-ouch!" He jerked his hand back and glowered at her. "Damn minx bit me."

Taking advantage of his surprise, Julianne pulled her bound legs to her chest then gave a hard kick. Her heels connected with Perdy's midsection, and he let out a grunt as he fell back onto his buttocks.

"Wot the hell are ye doin' over there?" Will ground out. "Can't ye take care of one tied-up woman?"

"Course I can," Perdy grumbled. He grabbed Julianne by the hair, and pain shot through her scalp. She let out a cry, and he stuffed the rag back in her mouth, then rose to his feet.

"There's a pistol trained on both of you," came Gideon's voice out of the darkness. "If either of you so much as blink, I'll blow a hole right through your heart. Whichever one is left will get my knife in his gut."

Both men froze. "Put down your knives," Gideon ordered. "Nice and slow. Right by your feet."

Will coughed then said, "There's something ye should know-"

"If you speak again before I tell you to, whatever you say will be your last words," Gideon said in a deadly voice that sent shivers down Julianne's spine. "Now do as I said. Before I get angry. And kill you anyway."

Working frantically, Julianne managed to spit out the rag and pulled in a deep breath. She didn't want to speak and distract Gideon, so she just kept yanking on the ropes, noting with grim satisfaction that she'd made some progress.

She watched both men set their knives on the wooden floor then slowly rise.

"Good," said Gideon from the darkness. "Now kick them toward the crates."

After the knives skidded across the floor, Gideon ordered, "Facedown. On the floor. Hands behind your head."

After they'd obeyed, Gideon said in a chilling voice, "If you move, I won't hesitate to kill you." Then he said softly, "Julianne, are you hurt?"

"N… no. But I'm bound." She gave a mighty twist of her wrist, and it slipped free. "Was bound," she corrected, her voice filled with satisfaction, as she pulled the rope off her. "I just managed to free my hands."

"Excellent. You gentlemen are very fortunate the lady isn't hurt. Now, one of you-and only one of you-is going to tell me who you are and why you kidnapped this woman."

"Um, well, it's like this," said the one named Perdy. "This bloke came to us earlier tonight, said he'd pay us handsome to grab the lady from the party."

Julianne didn't hear Gideon moving toward her, but suddenly he was next to her, his fingers lightly pressing against her mouth, his lips next to her ear. "Don't speak unless I ask you something, and then just go along with whatever I say," he whispered. He leaned back, and his gaze fastened on hers. Fear and relief rushed through her, but she firmly shoved them aside and nodded. In a single slice he cut the ropes binding her ankles, then pulled her to her feet.

With one strong arm wrapped around her waist, he loudly said to the kidnappers, "Tell me about this bloke who hired you." He then immediately whispered to Julianne, "Can you stand on your own?" At her nod, he released her and scooped up the ropes from the floor. Then he pressed something into her hand. "Take this knife," he whispered directly in her ear. "If anyone comes near you, stab them. Except me."

Julianne's fingers curved around the handle, and she nodded, praying she wouldn't have to use the weapon.

"Bloke didn't give his name," Perdy said.

"What did he look like?"

"Couldn't tell. It were dark, and he wore a hooded cape. A dandy he were, though. Had one of them rich bloke voices. Gave us a gold watch and some blunt, said we'd get the rest after the job were done."

"How much more?"

"Twenty quid."

"And what precisely was the job?" Gideon asked.

"Kidnap the lady. Use her as bait to get the Runner here." Perdy hesitated. "Then kill the Runner."

"And what was to become of the lady?" Gideon asked in a silky voice.

"We were to let her go. Leave her in Hyde Park. Unharmed."

"My lady, I believe you are proficient with a pistol, are you not?" Gideon asked her.

"I am very proficient with a pistol, Mr. Mayne," Julianne replied, hoping she sounded proficient as opposed to scared out of her wits.

"Excellent. I am going to tie these men. If one of them makes any sudden moves, I want you to blow his head off."

"I'd be delighted," she said in the same voice she used to accept invitations to dance.

"No need to be blowin' anybody's head off," Perdy said quickly. "We ain't movin'. Are we, Will?"

"Hell, no. Jacko would have our head if we did."

Julianne sensed Gideon stiffen, and she wondered who Jacko was, but before she could think on the matter, Gideon nudged the closest man's hip with his boot. "What's your name?"

"Perdy."

"And your friend's name?"

"Will."

"Perdy, I'm going to tie up Will. If he moves, I'm going to stab him. If you move, the lady is going to blow your head off. Any questions?"

"No," both men answered in unison.

Julianne watched Gideon work, and all she could think was, Please don't make me blow his head off, which was really quite ridiculous, as she didn't even have a pistol! Still, she gripped the knife in both hands, knowing that if either man tried to hurt Gideon, she'd do whatever was necessary to protect him.

Once both men's hands and feet were bound, Gideon searched their pockets. He pulled a gold watch from Perdy's pocket and held it up to the meager bit of light from the window. He then rolled both men onto their backs, rose, and glared down at the abductors turned prisoners.

"This the watch he gave you?" Gideon asked.

Perdy nodded. "Yes."

"Why were you to kill the Runner?"

"Bloke didn't say. But he never said the Runner were Gideon Mayne," Perdy said in a rush. "If he had, we wouldn't have taken the job."

"Swear we wouldn't have," added Will.

"Why not?" asked Gideon.

"Why, we couldn't kill Jacko's son," Perdy said, while Will nodded. "Done us both a good turn, yer father has-"

"Several good turns," broke in Will. "Didn't know you were the Runner the bloke meant. Yor pa's salt of the earth."

"Right," said Perdy. "Helps a lot of us in St. Giles and those down by the docks as well."

"What do mean, 'helps'?" Gideon asked in a sharp voice.

"Gives us money," Perdy said. "Food. Gets us medicine. Liquor. Whatever we need."

"He saved my boy's life, he did," Will added. "So sick little Billy were, we were sure he was a goner. Jacko got the medicine that made him better. Sure as hell I'd never be the one to harm a hair on Jacko's own son's head."

"Anybody stupid enough to try wouldn't live long to tell the tale," Perdy said. "Jacko would see to that."

For several seconds silence pulsed in the dark room. Then Gideon crouched down near the men. "You made a serious error tonight," he said in a low, deadly voice, "and you're very, very fortunate that the lady wasn't hurt. Because if she were, you wouldn't live to tell the tale. I know your names, and I know what you look like. I never want to hear of you or see you again. Ever. Is that clear?"

Both men nodded, then Perdy asked, "W… wot are ye goin' to do with us?" He gave a nervous laugh. "Don't forget-we didn't harm neither of ye."

Gideon stared down at the two men. Everything inside him wanted to pummel them to bloody pulps for touching Julianne. They might not have hurt her, but they could have. And they'd certainly frightened her. And the bastards had shaved at least a decade off his own life from the scare. If he lived to be one hundred, he'd never forget seeing her being grabbed and pulled from the room.

"If you'd tried to kill me, I assure you you wouldn't have succeeded," Gideon said coldly. He believed that absolutely, but it irked him that the fact that he was Jack Mayne's son could have in any way saved him. "And if you'd in any way harmed the lady, you'd be dead, regardless. As it is, I'll let the magistrate know where you are. Enjoy your wait until he arrives."

"Aw, now that ain't no way to treat us after we didn't try to kill ye," Will protested. "Plus, ye took our watch."

"I could still shoot you in the head, if you'd prefer," Gideon said pleasantly. "In fact-"

"No, no, that's all right," Perdy broke in. "We'll just stay here. And wait for the magistrate to find us."

"As you wish." Without another word, he turned. He wanted to get Julianne as far away from here as possible. Ascertain for himself that she was indeed all right. And then he'd find the bastard behind this. And make that bastard very, very sorry.

He went to Julianne and handed her her slippers. Once she'd donned them, he took her hand and led her swiftly through the maze of crates. A moment later the cool night air struck them, and Gideon drew a deep breath. He paused long enough to look at Julianne. Her hair and clothes were disheveled, her face as pale as wax, and her eyes the size of dinner plates. She still clutched the knife he'd given her as if her very life depended upon it. He wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms, but he had to get her away from here. Somewhere safe. Where he could get all the details of her ordeal and send off a message to the magistrate. Somewhere he could have a few moments to himself to recover from a terror that all but paralyzed him.

He took the knife from her and slipped it into his boot. A shiver ran through her, and he yanked off his jacket. "Put this on," he said, helping her slip her arms through the sleeves. "Are you all right? Can you walk?"

"Of course," she answered, actually looking insulted. "I'm not the delicate princess you think I am."

If he'd been capable of doing so, he would have smiled at her umbrage. Indeed, she'd proven herself quite the warrior tonight. He grabbed her hand and walked swiftly, dodging in and out of narrow alleys until they emerged on a wider cobbled street. He saw a hack on the corner and immediately hailed the driver. Seconds later they were ensconced inside. He gave the driver his direction and they were on their way.

Sitting across from her, Gideon reached out and clasped Julianne's shoulders, his gaze searching. "Are you certain you weren't hurt?"

She swallowed and nodded. "My wrists hurt a bit," she said in a slightly trembling voice. "From the ropes."

His gaze instantly dropped to her hands. And his fury flared. Her delicate wrists were badly abraded. He snatched his handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket and pressed it gently against the raw skin, which seeped blood. The sight of her injuries, the rage it inspired, rendered him momentarily speechless.

"They said they meant to kill you," she whispered. A look that could only be described as fierce entered her eyes. Indeed, she suddenly looked like an avenging fury. "I wasn't going to let them hurt you."

Bloody hell. His heart just… melted. "I can see that."

"They put a hood over my head and stuffed an awful rag in my mouth," she said, the words coming quickly between rapid breaths. "I pretended I'd swooned while I worked on loosening the ropes and spitting out the rag. As soon as the door squeaked, I knew it was you. There were two of them and only one of you, and I was so frightened." She drew in a shaky breath. "I would have shot them, you know. If I'd had to. And, well, if I'd had a pistol. I would have used that knife."

Unable to stop himself, he raised her hands and gently pressed his lips against her fingers. "You may have been frightened, but you, my darling princess, were absolutely magnificent."

"I was?"

"Beyond magnificent. You were brave and determined, courageous and dogged. If I had to choose one word, it would be fierce."

A bit of color washed into her pale cheeks. She moistened her lips. "I… thank you. I believe that is the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me. I knew you would come for me."

Gideon nodded, unable to speak around the sudden lump in his throat. He brushed his lips over her scraped wrists and pulled in a deep breath. And almost smiled. Bloody hell, in spite of all she'd been through, the scent of vanilla still clung to her skin. He looked into her eyes and spoke the simple truth. "I never would have stopped looking for you, Julianne."

Her bottom lip trembled, and tears pooled in her eyes. "I know," she whispered. "Thank you. But about all those nice things you said… most of all, I was just very scared." A tear spilled over to trail down her cheek followed by several more, and a breathy sob escaped her. "I don't feel very fierce or determined now. In fact… oh, dear, I think I'm going to cry."

The tears overflowed in earnest, and with a groan, Gideon shifted to sit next to her. He pulled her into his arms, and she buried her face against his neck. Feeling utterly helpless, he held her close. Brushed his lips over her soft hair. Whispered words he hoped would soothe her. And with every breath, he fell deeper in love with her. His fiercely brave, terrified princess who escaped her ropes, spat out her gag, screamed to warn him, and would have stabbed anyone who'd tried to hurt him. Bloody hell, she wasn't a princess. She was a… gown-clad warrior.

After a few minutes her sobs subsided, and he leaned back to dab at her wet eyes with his handkerchief.

"I've gone through more handkerchiefs with you in the last few days than I normally use in a month," he teased, hoping to coax a smile from her.

She took it from him and gave her nose a mighty blow. "You might want this one washed before I return it."

"Keep it. You might need it again."

"I hope not. I don't want to cry again." Her gaze searched his. "You were marvelously clever. Pretending you had two pistols. And gloriously brave."

"I'm glad you think so, but I think it only fair to tell you that I was also never so frightened in my entire life." He touched his fingers beneath her chin and lifted her face. "When I saw those men grab you…" He briefly closed his eyes, and a shudder ran through him. "If anything had happened to you-"

She touched her fingers to his lips. "But it didn't. Because of you."

He shook his head, dislodging her fingers. "If I'd been closer to you, they wouldn't have been able to grab you in the first place. Why were you standing there all alone? Why didn't you walk to the punch bowl with you friends?"

"The duke told me to wait there. He was going to fetch a diamond ring from the ducal collection then come back and announce our engagement. Instead it appeared he discovered he'd been robbed." She offered him a tremulous smile. "And you saved my life."

Damn it, the way she was looking at him, as if he were a hero, half shamed him because he hadn't kept her from being snatched, and half made him feel so bloody good he couldn't speak. His gaze dropped to her lips, and a groan rose in his throat. There were reasons, so many reasons, not to kiss her, but God help him, he couldn't think of even one of them.

He leaned toward her. Her lips parted. And the hack jerked to a halt.

Julianne blinked then looked out the window. "Where are we?"

"Somewhere safe." He alighted then assisted her. After paying the driver, he said, "There's an extra bob in it for you if you'll deliver a message for me. Wait here. I'll be right back."

The driver agreed, and Gideon escorted Julianne up the short walkway. A moment later they entered a small foyer. Julianne's eyes widened. "Is this your home?"

"Yes." He tried his best to sound casual and shove aside the knowledge that it was sorely lacking in comparison to the mansion in which she lived. "It's safe and was closer than Grosvenor Square. Come."

He led her to his study and quickly lit the lamp on his desk. "Please sit down and make yourself comfortable. I need to write a quick note to the magistrate." He completed his task, sealed the note with wax, then wrote the direction on the outside. The entire time he was aware of Julianne looking around the room. When he finished, he excused himself to give the note to the hackney. He then gathered some cloths, bandages, salve, and a bowl of water. Before reentering the study, he paused in the doorway. Julianne stood before the unlit fireplace, lightly trailing her fingers along the mantel.

The sight of her in his home did something to his insides. Filled them with a sensation he'd never experienced before. By virtue of her aristocratic birth she shouldn't look right here, yet somehow, in the soft light of the single lamp he'd lit, she appeared as if she belonged precisely where she was. Standing before his hearth. Touching his mantel clock, whose ticking was the only sound in the room.

She must have sensed his presence, because she turned. Their eyes met, and he felt as if he'd been punched in the heart. How he was going to get her out of here without breaking his vow to himself, he didn't know. He wasn't even sure if he cared anymore.

Pushing off from the doorway, he slowly approached her. "I want to clean and treat your wounds then bandage your wrists."

"All right." She sat on the sofa, and after setting down his supplies, he retrieved the lamp from his desk and settled himself next to her.

"I didn't know you lived in a house," she said as he gently washed her raw skin with a dampened cloth.

When she winced, his jaw clenched with suppressed fury at the bastards who had tied her. "Oh? You thought I lived in a cave?"

She gave a short laugh. "No. I imagined you in bachelor's rooms."

"I bought the house several years ago. We never had one when I was a child, and I wanted somewhere permanent. A place to call home. Somewhere that was… mine." He applied the salve, forcing his gaze to remain on his task, fearing that if he looked into her eyes, he would be lost.

"Those men mentioned a Jack Mayne," she said softly. "They said he was your father. And that he'd helped them. Is your father a… philanthropist?"

A humorless sound escaped Gideon. "Not exactly." Although based on what Will and Perdy had said, there was clearly more to Jack Mayne than Gideon knew.

"Your parents," Julianne said, her voice filled with hesitancy. "Are they anything like mine?"

"An earl and a countess? Hardly."

"No. I meant were they… good to you?"

An image of Jack Mayne materialized in Gideon's mind's eye, kneeling down so he was on eye level with his young son. Just slip yor fingers into the bloke's coat pocket, light and easy, and bring me back wot's in there. Then of his mother, thin, pale, her coughing worsening until every breath became a struggle and rattle in her lungs-

He blinked away the image and shrugged. "I wasn't beaten or abused, if that's what you mean. My mother died when I was fourteen. She'd been sick for a long time."

"You loved her very much."

Her death was an ache that had softened with time but one he knew would never completely fade. "Very much. And like you, I am a great disappointment to my father."

"How could any father be disappointed in such a fine son?"

"How could any father be disappointed in such a fine daughter?"

"Because she wasn't a son. Why was your father disappointed?"

He hesitated then said, "I chose the army and Bow Street rather than follow in his footsteps."

"But surely there is nothing nobler than fighting for your country and upholding the law. What was his trade?"

Gideon debated not telling her then inwardly shrugged. They were Jack's sins, not his. "Pickpocket. Petty thief. He was also very good picking locks."

He felt her start of surprise. "Your father was a… thief?"

"Yes." As far as Gideon knew, Jack still was one. "He's never quite forgiven me for joining what he calls the wrong side of the law, and I've never quite forgiven him for… well, many things." Mostly the pain Jack's countless infidelities had caused Gideon's mother.

"Based on what Perdy and Will said about your father, about him helping them and others, perhaps he's changed his ways."

"If he's given anyone anything, I doubt he obtained it through legal means."

"It shows a great strength of character that, given your upbringing, you didn't fall into a life of crime."

There was no missing the admiration in her voice, and he risked looking up from his bandaging task. That same admiration was shining in her eyes, and he quickly looked down again. Because he knew what he said next would erase it. "I did fall into it." The words felt rusty on his tongue, as he'd never admitted them to anyone before. "For a time. When I was too young to make my own decisions."

"But you changed," she whispered.

"Yes. I wanted to become someone who I could look at in the mirror and not cringe."

"And have you become that person?"

He pondered, then said, "I like to think so."

"Would it make any difference if I told you that I think you're wonderful? Extraordinary?"

Bloody hell, it made a huge difference. No matter how much he didn't want it to, it did. "Thank you. But you don't know me very well."

"I disagree."

"Which doesn't surprise me. We're very different and don't agree on very much."

"Again, I must disagree. I think we're actually very much alike. Where it really matters. In our hearts."

He pressed his lips together to keep from replying. To keep from revealing what was in his heart. If she had any idea how badly he wanted to tell the entire world and all its dictates and rules that conspired to keep them apart to go to hell, how much he wanted to selfishly steal her away from her rarified world and make her his, she'd run screaming from the room. As well she should.

Instead he said, "If by saying we're alike you mean that you are extraordinary, then I agree. You are." And he was going to miss her every day of his life once she was gone. He tied off the second bandage and said, "I'm sorry this happened to you."

"I'm not."

His head jerked up at that. And this time he found himself imprisoned by those eyes, unable to look away. "Why do you say that?"

She offered him a small smile. "Because if it hadn't, I never would have seen your home." She rose and held out her hands. "Will you show me the rest of it?"

Gideon hesitated. Not because he was embarrassed of his house. In fact, he'd worked hard to purchase it and was very proud of it. Obviously it didn't compare to what she was accustomed to, but then not much could compare to the Gatesbourne mansion on Grosvenor Square. No, this was a matter of survival. His home was his sanctuary. Already he knew he'd think of her from now on every time he entered his study. Would see her standing before his fireplace. Sitting on his sofa. If he showed her the rest of the house, she'd live in all those rooms as well. Rooms she'd never visit again but where her presence would continue to haunt him long after she left. The best thing to do, the smart thing to do, would be to take her home. Immediately.

Instead he rose. And took her hand. And showed her his house.

"It's delightful," she said, walking around the dining room then the sitting room. "Cozy, warm, and charming."

"I'm not much of a decorator, I'm afraid."

"I think it's better to have only a few very meaningful things than many items that are decorative but hold no sentimental value."

They continued to the small drawing room, the kitchen, and pantry, then through three empty bedchambers. She remained silent, and he wondered what she was thinking. When they came to the last room, he said, "My bedchamber." She entered the room without a word and walked slowly around, trailing her fingers over his dark blue counterpane and cherrywood furniture. He stood just inside the doorway, taking slow, careful breaths while his heart beat hard and fast and his entire body ached with love and desire and so damn much want he thought he would burst. He never should have brought her here. Because now that she was here, he never wanted to let her go.

After she'd walked around the entire room, she came to stand directly in front of him. And looked at him through solemn eyes. "Do you want to know what I think of your home, Gideon?"

"If you care to tell me."

"I think it is the loveliest house I've ever been in. It is cozy and delightful and a real home. It is the perfect reflection of its owner in that it is wonderful. In every way."

Bloody hell. How was he to answer that? He couldn't even find his damn voice.

"Do you know what I want, Gideon?"

No, he didn't. But he damn well knew what he wanted. And he could sum it up in one word: Julianne. In his arms. In his bed. Under him. Over him. Surrounding him. And all the reasons he couldn't have it were fleeing at an alarming rate. Still unable to locate his voice, he shook his head.

"I want to seduce you."