Wait Until Midnight

THIRTY-FOUR

He was obviously not giving the situation the serious attention it required. Perhaps he had not yet thought through the implications.

"This is not amusing, Adam," she said reproachfully. "Your family knows how you are about your rules." He inclined his head. "True"

"After what you just said to Ivybridge, they will no doubt expect us to become engaged. Really, sir, what were you thinking?"

"Apparently I was thinking of marriage" He crossed the room to the brandy table and picked up the decanter. Light sparkled on the cut crystal facets when he tipped the bottle over a glass. "Everyone else, with the glaring exception of Ivybridge, seems to feel that we would make an excellent match." He paused, holding the glittering decanter aloft. "Would you care for a brandy?"

"No, thank you. One of us must remain clearheaded here."

"Better you than me_."

He drank a large measure of the brandy.

She whirled and began to pace the long room, struggling to pull her chaotic emotions into some sort of order.

"Please do not misunderstand me,^" she said quickly. "I am deeply indebted to you for the manner in which you dealt with Ivybridge. Indeed, I do not know how I shall ever be able to repay you"

For the first time since Ivybridge had depart^ed the library, Adam appeared displeased. "There is no need to re-pay me," he said, a chill in his words. "You owe me

' nothing. I am the one who is indebted to you for providing me with an alibi for the murder of Irene Toller^."

^"Nonsense. I merely told the truth.^"

He shrugged. "I did the same just now.^"

"But you told Ivybridge that you planned to offer marriage."

"Yes, I did, didn't I?"

She sighed. "I realize that it was all part of your brilliant plan to intimidate him. And I do not doubt that he will certainly think twice before spreading gossip about the mysterious Mr. Hardesty's intended bride. But you did not have to go that far. Surely you can see that^. He was al-ready trembling in his shoes after you brought up his connection to that brothel."

Adam swallowed more brandy, looking pensive. "Thank you. The subject of his connection to that establishment was rather effective, wasn't it?"

"It was a very clever piece of strategy." She stopped at the far end of the room and gestured wildly with her folded fan. "But then everything you do is generally clever and well-planned. So why on earth did you feel compelled to say that you intended to ask me to marry you?"

He angled himself onto the corner of the desk and drank some more brandy while he considered the question.

"Probably because that is precisely what I intend to do," he said.

She felt as though she had been glued to the floor. She could not have moved if someone had yelled "Fire."

"I don't understand," she said, suddenly light-headed. "I thought our affair was going rather well."

`A matter of opinion, I'm afraid."

Her spirits plummeted. "Oh. I see. I didn't realize that you were not… That is to say, I… Well, I suppose my lack of prior experience has turned out to be something of a disappointment to you. But I assure you, I am a fast learner."

He gave her his most enigmatic look. "Tell me the truth, Caroline. Are you merely using me as your writer's muse?"

She was horrified. "No, no, of course not."

"You're certain?"

"Absolutely."

"I am not just a plaything for you, then?"

She felt herself turn very hot. Her face was probably as red as her gown. "How can you even suggest such a thing?"

"If I am more to you than just a toy or a useful muse, why are you so reluctant to speak of marriage?"

Because you do not seem to be able to tell me that you are madly, wildly, passionately in love with me, she thought. But she could hardly say that out loud.

"Well^—" She broke off, trying to come up with a reason that would appeal to the logical side of his nature. "Time is a factor, sir. I'm sure you will agree that it is much too soon to discuss the subject. After all, we have been acquainted for only a matter of a few days."

"But we do appear to be well suited. Everyone else certainly seems to believe that to be the case."

Well suited. Hardly a declaration of undying love.

She cleared her throat, steadying her nerves. "Exactly how are we well suited?"

He gave her a slow, sensual smile. "You know my secrets and I know yours."

That stopped her for a few heartbeats but she managed to cling to a few wispy tendrils of logic.

"Yes, well, that may be true," she allowed. "But do you think that constitutes sufficient grounds for marriage?"

"In this particular instance it does, at least as far as I am concerned" He put down the brandy glass and came up off the desk. "But rest assured there are other ways in which we are well suited."

Her brain went utterly blank. "Such as?"

He walked toward her, looking dangerous indeed, with his darkly bruised eye and grimly determined expression. "This way, for example," he whispered.

He put his powerful hands very gently around her bare throat and tilted her head slightly for his kiss.

A shiver of excitement coursed through her. This was no doubt the path to disaster, she reminded herself. If she wanted to retain any degree of common sense she would turn away from him right now, this very minute, before his mouth touched hers.

But she could not seem to get unstuck from the floor. And then it was much too late because he was kissing her in a slow, searing way that melted everything inside her and set fire to her blood.

She did not want to think about his businesslike suggestion of marriage. Instead, she wanted to concentrate on the way she felt when he took her in his arms.

His tongue slid along the edge of her mouth and ever so slightly between her lips. She leaned heavily against him, wrapping her arms around his neck. The thrilling heat and strength of his body enveloped her.

He deepened the kiss, drawing it out until she was clinging to him.

The knowledge that he wanted her so intensely gave her courage and hope. She understood his wariness. He had taught himself to survive first on the streets and then in a glittering, superficial world where love was treated, at best, with amused disdain. He had learned his lessons well and established his own rules. It was only to be expected that he would be deeply cautious.

She was taking a risk, she thought. But Adam was worth it.

A discreet knock sounded on the door.

Adam raised his head, frowning slightly. "It must be Morton, and that means that it will be important. Excuse me, my dear."

He crossed to the door and opened it. Caroline saw the formidable butler in the corridor. Morton was very careful not to look at her. She heard him speak to Adam in low, serious-sounding tones. Adam gave some crisp directions in response.

When he turned back to her and closed the door, she knew at once that something had happened. All the sensual satisfaction had vanished from his expression. It had been replaced by the concentrated attention of the hunter.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Morton brought me a message from an old friend of mine named Florence Stotley. Thanks to her I now have an address for Irene Toller's missing assistant, Bess Whaley. I must leave at once."

"You are going to see Bess tonight?"

"Yes" He shrugged out of his jacket. "I do not want to take the risk of losing her again. Morton is bringing me an-other jacket and a pair of boots."

"I think I should go with you to speak with the assistant." "There is no need for that. The address I was given is not in the best part of town."

"Bess obviously fled for a reason. She will likely panic when she finds you at her door at this hour. Perhaps my presence will reassure her."

He hesitated and then nodded abruptly. "Very well. I will send for your wrap"