Chapter Fourteen

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

N ATHAN SET THE long block of stone on the base they had made and pushed it into place in the center, flush against another stone. He straightened up, stretching his back, and wiped his hand across his forehead. Though it was cool in this cave-like place, the exertion of carrying stones and fitting them together had made him sweat. He, like Sloane, had long ago discarded his jacket, waistcoat, and neckcloth, rolled up his sleeves and undone the ties of his shirt. But none of it was enough to make him cool; his thin lawn shirt was plastered to his chest and sweat ran down his face, smearing the dirt and grime that covered it.

Sloane, too, stood looking at the pile of stone before them, his hands on his hips, and it made Nathan feel somewhat better that the other man looked as weary and discouraged as Nathan felt.

From above them came a woman's voice. "Hello, lads. Need some help?"

"Verity!" Nathan's head snapped up and he saw Verity lying at the edge of the hole, braced on her elbows. His intense relief was overwhelmed by the fear that stabbed through him. "Get back! That floor just caved in on us."

"I can see that. But here it's still solid rock beneath me. I just leaned over and looked." She twisted and spoke to someone behind her, then disappeared for a moment.

Nathan's heart slowed down a notch, though it still made him cringe to think of Verity climbing out there to look over. Verity returned with a lantern, holding it out to shed light on the men below. With the lantern's light, he could see that Annabeth's face appeared beside Verity's.

"Annabeth!" Sloane thundered, scowling. "What the devil are you doing here? Good God, did you climb down that ladder? Have you taken leave of your senses?"

Annabeth rolled her eyes. "I'm with child, Sloane, not on my deathbed. And I must say, I would think you two would be a little more glad to see us."

"Of course we're glad to see you," Nathan protested. "It's just..." Verity, he knew, could handle herself, but not if there were more than several attackers to fight off. A very pregnant Annabeth would be of little help—not that he was foolish enough to tell her that.

Sloane, however, had no such reticence. "It's dangerous . God knows what sort of villain you're liable to run into here. They aren't going to back off because you're pregnant."

"That's why I have this." Annabeth held up a pistol.

"God save us," Sloane groaned.

Nathan sympathized with Sloane, but he had to stifle a little laugh.

"Since we are the ones currently saving your hides—" Verity knelt beside the hole again "—you might try addressing your prayers to us for the time being."

Sloane glared at her. "I can't believe you dragged Annabeth into this with you. You should have stopped to think."

"I'll remind you that I wasn't the one who decided to go charging through Cheapside and follow a man down into a tunnel," Verity retorted.

This remark served to shut Sloane up, and Verity tossed one end of a knotted rope down to them. "The ladder's too short to reach you, and in any case, it's attached to the entry. You're going to have to climb this rope."

Nathan eyed the rope. There was no way Annabeth and Verity could counter either his or Sloane's weight. "But how—"

"My coachman Russell is here with us," Verity answered his unspoken question. "And we've wrapped the rope around the ladder for leverage. But perhaps you should come up first, Nathan." When Nathan took a step toward the rope, she added drily, "You might want to bring the rest of your clothes. Not that we don't admire the view."

"Good Gad." In the excitement of the moment, he'd forgotten his state of undress. He was certain he was blushing from his chest to his hairline as he retreated, retying his shirt as he went. Well, at least he was more clothed than Sloane, who had shed his shirt entirely—not, of course, that Sloane would care.

Sloane laughed, proving Nathan's point. Nathan haphazardly pulled on his waistcoat and jacket and stuffed his neckcloth in his pocket. He went back to the rope and looked up. "Ready?"

"Yes," came a chorus of voices from farther back in the tunnel.

He couldn't quite dismiss the image of Verity being pulled down here with him. "Well, if you start to slide, let go."

"Nathan, would you just climb the rope?"

Nathan stepped up onto the foundation he and Sloane had laid—at least it was worth something—and began to climb. It had been years since he had done this, but it turned out he was still able to pull himself up, even though he was a good bit heavier than his twelve-year-old self.

He reached the top and crawled onto the tunnel floor, Verity rushing forward to help. Flopping onto his back, Nathan simply lay there for a moment, soaking in the relief of being out of the ruins.

"Are you injured?" Verity knelt beside him, peering down at him with an expression he'd never seen on her face before. She brushed the dust from his face and ran her hands over his chest and arms. Well, this was rather pleasant, actually.

"I'm fine," he said somewhat reluctantly and rolled to his feet. That look on Verity's face had been anxiety. Verity had been worried about him, which both surprised and warmed him. He would have liked to take her in his arms and just hold her. But of course he couldn't with Russell and Annabeth watching and Sloane waiting to be rescued.

Nathan took his place along the rope with the others and called Sloane to climb up. After Sloane reached the top, there was a great deal of him and Annabeth hugging and kissing in between bickering, while the others rolled up the rope and carried it and the lantern up the ladder. Sloane and Annabeth followed more slowly.

Verity's coach had been guarded by a group of street urchins, whom she rewarded with coins. There was no hack in view, so they squeezed into Verity's town coach, with Annabeth sitting on Sloane's lap and Nathan choosing to join the driver on his high seat rather than folding himself into the small space in front of the other passengers' feet. Verity suggested that she sit there, being smaller, but Nathan sent her a fulminating look and climbed up onto the coachman's seat. A man had to have some pride, after all, and he wasn't about to let Verity sit on the floor after he had already had to be rescued by her.

There was some compensation to the choice, anyway, as the breeze blew away some of the dust that had settled on him. It also cheered him a little to remind himself that Sloane, the former spy extraordinaire himself, was also nursing his damaged pride after their failed attempt to question, or even catch, the man they'd fallen into a pit chasing.

When they reached Verity's house, Nathan and Verity disembarked, and the carriage rolled off to take the other couple home. As they walked to the front door, Nathan tried futilely to rub away the streaks of dirt on his face and neck where his sweat had mingled with the dust.

"Oh, stop that," Verity said in an exasperated tone. "Come in and wash up. You and I need to talk."

That sounded faintly ominous, Nathan thought, but he had a few questions to ask Verity, as well.

Verity turned him over to her housekeeper, who, after an appalled exclamation, showed him upstairs to a wash basin and pitcher and ordered him to give her his jacket and waistcoat to clean. Nathan washed his hands and face, as well as his neck and lower arms, and finally wound up pouring the rest of the pitcher over his head.

The result was less than perfect—he could only finger-comb his wet hair into some order and his shirt was still somewhat dirty, and now wet around the neck and the end of his sleeves. But he felt a great deal better. He would have liked to have his jacket, but, really, what did it matter at this point? Verity was hardly one to insist on proper attire, and she had already seen him in only his shirt, anyway. Had she meant what she said about admiring the view? He couldn't quite stifle the little rush of pleasure that thought brought.

He left the upstairs chamber and ventured down to the parlor, where he found Verity eating cakes and drinking tea. "Sit down. You must be hungry."

Nathan's stomach agreed. His questions could wait. He joined her, polishing off the rest of the food and drinking two cups of tea.

Verity waited until he'd drained the second cup before she crossed her arms and said, "Why were you two running around Cheapside, falling into holes?"

"We didn't actually intend to fall into a hole," he shot back, nettled by her description of his efforts. "We were chasing one of those men who attacked us last night so I could find out who hired them."

"So of course you turned to Sloane."

Nathan wasn't sure why, but there was a distinct tone of resentment in Verity's voice. "He's the only person I know who is familiar with the criminal underworld." When Verity raised one eyebrow he added, "Besides you, I mean. And I was trying to keep you out of it."

"Keep me out of it?" She stared. "I was well in it last night."

"And that's why. I think they targeted you, and I think Arden is highly suspect. I wanted to find out if I was right so I could stop him."

A number of emotions flitted across Verity's face so quickly he could not be sure what they were. "I—well, that's, um, kind—no one's ever..." Verity paused, pressing her lips together, then squared her shoulders and lifted her chin a bit, saying, "Well, I don't see why you didn't ask me to help. It isn't as if I'm useless."

"No," he answered quickly. "Of course not. It wasn't that. It—I thought—I was trying to protect you," he finished lamely. He didn't want to think about the notion, more centered in his chest than in his brain, that he had wanted to slay the dragon of Lord Arden and lay it at her feet. To divert her from any further questions, he said, "Whatever I was trying to do, clearly I failed. The most information I got was from a barkeep who told me that Arden has hired men at his tavern. He couldn't say, though, if he had hired those two particular men. We tracked them down to a house, but I imagine they won't be going back there now."

"Still, that's useful. It gives us some other places to look for them and Douglas. Douglas could have hired them, too."

"Yes, it seems to be a common transaction there."

"Did Sloane know anything about them?"

Nathan shook his head. "No, we found out about that tavern from that man Parker."

"Ah, Sloane's former enemy that he sold off his illegal businesses to when he went legitimate."

"Of course you know all about that."

Verity gave a coy little half shrug.

"Then we found out where those men stayed from the barkeep. And that's when the chase started." He shrugged, then asked her the question that had plagued him the whole drive home. "What I want to know is, how the devil did you track us down?"

"Oh. Sally told me—one of those children who were guarding my carriage. She's bright and I use her to follow people fairly often. As I said before, no one notices street urchins."

"You had me followed?" Nathan's voice rose. She nodded, and somehow the lack of embarrassment or guilt on her face added to his quick anger. He jumped to his feet. "Why? Do you think I'm so untrustworthy?"

"No, of course not. I was worried about what you might do—after last night, I just thought you might get into trouble."

"And of course I'm too incompetent to take care of myself," he said bitterly.

"No." Verity stood up, her voice rising, too. "What is the matter with you? Would you rather I hadn't found you today?"

"That's not the point."

"Do you have a point?"

"The point is that you obviously think I have to be taken care of instead of being a help to you."

"Oh, you mean the way you thought I had to be taken care of and was of no help to you when you went after our attackers?" Verity's eyes took on a dangerous glint.

"I was trying to protect you!"

"And why is it fine for you to want to protect me, but it's not all right for me to want to protect you?"

"You do it because you think I'm useless." Somewhere in the back of his mind, Nathan knew that he should not start down this path, but he could not stop the words that came pouring out. "I have known what you thought of me from the start—that I was a bumbling fool who only got in your way. But I had begun to think you might have changed your view a bit now that we've...that we know each other better. But you still regard me as incompetent."

"I don't think you're incompetent." Verity fisted her hands on her hips and glared at him. "That's not why I worried about you. It's not why I wanted to protect you."

"No? Then why did you do it?"

"Because I care—" She stopped abruptly, looking faintly alarmed, then said, "Because you are my client. I cannot have my clients being knocked over the head or falling down holes. It's bad for my reputation."

"That's not what you were about to say." He narrowed his eyes at her. "You were going to say because you care about me."

"Don't be absurd."

"It's not absurd." His anger and hurt had drained out of him in an instant at her words. "That's exactly why I wanted to protect you."

Verity made a scoffing sound and looked away, apparently now fascinated by the view outside the window.

Nathan smiled to himself, warmth stealing through him. "Admit it. You've come to like me." He took a step forward.

Verity turned her head to face him, raising her chin a little, but Nathan noticed that she did not move back. He thought it was strange that the stubborn set of her chin made him want to kiss her.

"Come, Verity, you might as well say it." Nathan stepped close to her and put his hand on her waist. "You care about me."

She raised one shoulder in a shrug. "Perhaps...a little." And once again she made no effort to move away.

"A little?" His thumb began to make little circles upon her waist. "Is that all your kiss counts for?"

"That was a momentary aberration." Verity placed her palms flat on his chest as if to hold him back, but she applied no pressure. And the feel of her skin through the thin material of his shirt shot sparks all through him.

"Twice?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "One kiss might be an aberration. Two is a habit."

She glared at him, annoyed. "Very well. Yes , I kissed you. And, yes , I liked it. I even like you, heaven help me. But that's not enough."

"Enough for what?" he murmured and bent to softly kiss the corner of her mouth. The little dimple there deepened, and she made a soft noise, part laugh and part pleasure, so he kissed the other side. And, finally, his lips came to rest fully on her mouth, his arms going around her.

Verity curled her hands into the cloth of his shirt, and when he lifted his lips, she sighed, "Oh, Nathan...this isn't wise."

"Not at all," he agreed and kissed her again.

"We're nothing alike," she murmured as she wrapped her arms around his neck and went up on her toes for another kiss.

"Clearly." Nathan began to kiss his way down her neck. God, but she tasted delicious. Smelled delicious. He was quickly losing his train of thought, but he managed to add, "You're rash and unpredictable."

She slid her fingers into his hair, and his passion spiked. "And you are stodgy and..." Whatever she was about to say died in a soft moan as his hand slid up to cup her breast.

Verity was so very sweet and pliable in his arms, her jagged edges melting away in heat and hunger. That is until Verity clenched her fingers in his hair and gave it a sharp tug.

"Ow." Nathan raised his head and looked down at her dazedly. "You could have just said stop." His arms fell away and he stepped back.

"Stop." Verity's eyes were bright, her face flushed, and her hair in some disarray. All Nathan wanted to do was take her back into his arms. "Nathan, what are we doing?"

"If you don't know, then I was obviously doing it badly," Nathan retorted.

A little smile tugged at her lips. "You were doing it very well. That's the problem. We need to think about this."

His instinct was to dispute her words. Nathan really wasn't interested in thinking right now. But she was right, of course. If they continued, they'd soon wind up in bed. And that would be a mistake. Really. It would. Even if he couldn't think of the reason why right now.

Nathan sighed and moved farther away, shoving his hand through his hair. "I apologize. I was, um..." What had he been? Impolite? Discourteous? That seemed far too tame. Filled with lust would be more like it. "Ungentlemanly."

Verity giggled.

Of course she would. He ought to know by now not to expect a typical response from her.

"I don't care about that." She made a dismissive wave of her hand. "The problem is—I do like you."

"Excuse me?"

"It would have been entirely different two weeks ago. Then it would have been easy. Just for fun. But now it would mean something. So I have to be careful. I don't..." She looked away for a moment, then set her jaw and turned back. "I don't want to lose you. Lovers are easy to find. Friends are hard to come by."

"Of course. You're right." Nathan would have come up with words about propriety and being influenced by the high emotions of the day, about respect and regret and how very wrong they were for each other. Verity had summed it up in a simple statement. And it stunned him a little to realize how very much he did not want to lose her . "Well. I should go home now. It's been a wearing day."

"Yes. But tomorrow..." There was the faintest tinge of question in her tone.

He nodded. "I'll return tomorrow."