Chapter Eight

CHAPTER EIGHT

N ATHAN ' S LIPS WERE warm and soft, and Verity gave herself up to pleasure. A faint voice in the back of her mind whispered that this was a bad idea, but it was easy to ignore that warning when Nathan curved his hand around the nape of her neck, his fingers stroking across her skin. Desire rippled through her, and she pressed herself up against him, reveling in the pressure of his firm chest against her breasts.

At her response, his kiss deepened, his tongue tangling with hers in a delightful dance, and heat bloomed between her legs. His hands slid down her sides, thumbs brushing the edges of her breasts, and rounded over her hips. She was all heat and hunger as his fingertips trailed over her, and she ached to have the barrier of clothes between them gone, to feel his skin on hers.

He lifted his head, sucking in a breath, and gazed down at her, his eyes wide and dark. They remained in that position for a moment, as if the heat inside them had melded them together. Then Nathan jerked away.

"Oh, God. Verity—I—I—forgive me."

Verity stared at him, for once unable to toss back a saucy retort—or, indeed, any response at all. Nathan turned and rushed out of the house.

Shocked, Verity shut the front door after him and leaned back against it, sliding down to sit on the ground. Dear heaven, what had just happened?

Nathan Dunbridge—polite, proper Nathan Dunbridge—had just lit a fire inside her. And not some small fire dancing on the hearth, but a great blazing Guy Fawkes Day bonfire, flames leaping toward the sky. Forgiveness was the last thing she wanted to give him, she thought. What she wanted was to chase after him and wrap herself around him and—She stopped herself thinking too far ahead. The fantasies tumbling about in her head shocked even her.

Verity was not without experience—she had kissed a number of men, some in deception and some in passion—but none of those kisses had ever shaken her like this one. She felt suddenly as naive as any young lass, her body a storm of sensations.

How could she feel this way about Nathan? She didn't even like him. Well, that wasn't true , she admitted in her mind . She did have a certain liking for Nathan and always had, even in the beginning when she'd been caustic with him. She enjoyed teasing him and flirting with him. She liked to ruffle his feathers, to shock him until he exclaimed "Verity!" in that way of his.

But this! This was a thing altogether different. This was a feeling very close to need. And Verity did not need. Anyone. Ever.

She rose to her feet and shook her skirts into place, bending down to pick up the gauzy shoulder wrap that had fallen to the floor in the storm of that kiss. She started up the stairs and was almost to the landing before she remembered that she had not gone through her nightly security check.

Irritated, she trotted back down the stairs. Telling her heated body to cool down and her buzzing brain to turn off, she went through the checks of doors and windows with exaggerated care. Unfortunately neither her brain nor body complied.

She wondered what Nathan thought. It had been obvious that he'd felt the same passion—her lips curved with satisfaction as she remembered just how that desire had evidenced itself. But what did he feel now? What did he think about what had happened between them? Verity had the lowering suspicion that he regretted it.

After all, he doubtless still yearned after Annabeth. What if he had imagined it was her, the great love of his life, that he'd been kissing? That was a thoroughly depressing thought.

It wouldn't happen again, she was sure. Nathan was too gentlemanly to run about kissing ladies willy-nilly. Of course, he didn't consider her a lady, but still, she was too connected to his inner circle for him to think she was someone he could trifle with. That was why he had apologized; he considered kissing her a social breach.

Which meant he would be careful not to indulge in that again. She might not be a woman to be trifled with, but neither was she a woman whom he would court. Verity let out a little sigh. Nathan had denied that she was unacceptable, but they'd both known that that was a lie of kindness. No gentleman of his status would offer her marriage.

Not that she even wanted marriage. She was an independent woman and meant to remain one. Verity would never submit to being ruled by a husband—not even a charming one who gave her magical kisses.

Tomorrow, they would go back to the way they were, this episode forgotten, and that would be for the best...but tonight she was going to luxuriate in the memory of that kiss.

N ATHAN AROSE EARLY the following morning—though he had spent very little time sleeping. He had left Verity's house in a sensual haze that even the brisk walk back to his flat had not dispelled.

He was shocked that he had wanted Verity so much. She wasn't traditionally beautiful—though God knew her sly smile beckoned a man and one could get lost in those golden eyes, not to mention that her form was deliciously curved and for days his fingers had itched to pull the pins from her rich red hair and let it cascade across his hands.

Well, perhaps it wasn't such a shock, after all. He'd been suppressing his hunger from the first moment he saw her at Lady Arden's ball.

Still, she was not the sort of woman he usually desired. He had been in love with Annabeth, but he hadn't been a monk, and the women he'd admired and the lovers he had taken were mostly tall, willowy, ladylike and... well, much like Annabeth .

Verity was none of those things. Rather than serenely beautiful, Verity's good looks were vibrant and unavoidable. She was flamboyant, one might even say brassy. He never knew what was going to come out of her mouth or what she might do. She annoyed him; indeed, she seemed to enjoy annoying him.

Yet, still, he had abandoned all reason and kissed her as if he wanted to consume her. It had been the merest wisp of rationality that had pulled him back before he did something irredeemably foolish.

It wasn't that he had thought Verity wasn't willing. She had returned his kiss with equal heat. Nathan smiled to himself, thinking of her response. The little shiver that he'd felt run through her as he caressed the tender skin at the back of her neck. He could still feel the wisps of hair that escaped her chignon softly teasing his fingers. Her mouth hot and seeking. Her body pliant beneath his hands as they moved down her back.

With a little growl, he pulled his mind back from the seductive memory. It was no help to dwell on it. It wasn't her response to his kisses that was the problem. It was what would happen after them.

Neither of them would ever fit in the other's life. They had nothing in common; Malcolm Douglas was the only reason they were together right now, and that would soon be resolved. There could never be anything between them but a tempestuous affair. And, appealing as that sounded at the moment, it would be bound to end badly, and Nathan didn't want that. He didn't know what to make of the relationship he had with Verity, but he was sure that he wanted to hold on to it.

Nathan dressed and ate his breakfast, then walked over to Verity's. It wasn't until he got there that he realized that it was far too early to make a call. And he hadn't thought of anything to say; their first meeting after last night's kiss was bound to be awkward. He turned aside and started to leave, but halted on the pavement and walked back, trying out a few phrases under his breath.

Just as he raised his hand to knock, the door swung open and Verity frowned at him. "What on earth are you doing, whirling around out there? Come inside."

He gaped at her, any phrase of apology or greeting flown from his mind. Verity's abundant hair was braided and wound into a tight flat knot atop her head. But that was the least of it. She had on a rough grayish shirt of the type workmen wore, and below that she was wearing breeches, the ends loose and rather ragged, as if a pair of men's breeches had been cut off. Below that, her feet and a good portion of her calves were bare.

To put a final touch on the ensemble, she had wrapped a slender rope around the waistband of the trousers, which were clearly too large. It was all astonishing, but it was her bare feet and shins that captured his gaze. He had never before realized how tantalizing the sight of a woman's bare feet could be.

Letting out a little growl of irritation, Verity grasped him by the arm and pulled him inside. "Whatever is the matter with you?"

"What—how—why are you wearing that?" Nathan couldn't quite pull his thoughts together. Why was she dressed as whatever she was—a man? A street urchin? Perhaps an escapee from an asylum?

Verity let out a little laugh and answered his tangled question in order. "They're boy's clothes. I had them tucked away in a trunk. I am going to pose as a beggar in order to spy on Malcolm Douglas."

She turned and walked back to the stairs, where she sat down on a step and began to pull on a pair of small battered brogans. "I had to purchase the cap and shoes from the chimneysweep's boy. I think he found me suspicious."

"Imagine that," Nathan retorted acidly. He had found his tongue again. "What the devil do you think you're doing? No one will believe you're a lad."

"Yes, they will." Verity shrugged. "People see what they expect to see." She stood up and pulled a too-large waistcoat over her shirt.

He was sorry to say, it did serve to conceal her breasts. "They aren't your only curves." He looked pointedly at her shapely bottom, which even the loose trousers could not hide.

"Hmm." Verity twisted to look down at her backside. "Perhaps you're right." She pulled her shirt out from the breeches, so that it hung down over her hips. "There. That'll do."

"Verity..."

"Have you ever noticed how long you can stretch out my name?"

He ignored her remark. "Why in the name of all that's holy do you need to dress up as a street urchin for us to keep watch on Douglas's movements?"

"We can't very well just hang about on the street waiting for him to come out, can we? Even if we sat in the carriage, people would find it odd. He might notice us. But nobody notices a lad sweeping the crossings or begging."

"I find it hard to believe they wouldn't notice a beautiful woman pretending to be a boy."

Verity's cheeks warmed a little, but she only said, "I'll take that as a compliment. However..." She turned and picked up a creased and dirty cap that hung on the newel. After putting it on and pulling the bill of the cap down low on her forehead, she crossed her arms and planted her feet apart, her face surly. "A tuppence to clear the way, guv? Wot do ye say?"

"I'd say you're charging entirely too much," Nathan replied drily. There was no point arguing with Verity, she always did as she pleased. Besides, she had managed to look amazingly like a lad. "What am I supposed to do while you're cavorting about as a street sweeper—and, just a word of caution, you look more like a pocket-size bruiser than a sweeper."

She laughed and studied him. "Yes, a gent like you can hardly stand on the corner all day. I suppose you could go as a beggar too—I have some other tattered clothes and bandages upstairs."

"I'm sure you do." Nathan grinned. It was hard to hold on to a grievance with Verity.

"I could be a pickpocket and you could be my kidsman," Verity suggested merrily.

"Just what I want to be seen as." But Nathan couldn't keep from laughing with her as he took her arm and steered her toward the door.

"I could put a mustache on you." Verity's eyes lit up. "Let me put a mustache on you."

"No. Out." Nathan started to pull her outside, but Verity resisted.

"Whatever would people say if they saw a street urchin leaving my home?" She fanned her face comically as if the mere thought gave her vapors. "I'll leave through the servants' quarters and meet you in the carriage."

They started toward the inn, with Verity proposing schemes, each one more outrageous than the last, and Nathan dismissing them with a smile. It occurred to Nathan that he hadn't felt this light in months.

In the end, Nathan wound up strolling past the inn a few times, keeping an eye on Verity as much as on the inn, and finally just going into the public room of the place and sitting down in the dimmest corner. He pulled his hat down to partially conceal his face and began to nurse one pint after another. He was going to get bosky doing this if Malcolm Douglas didn't show up soon.

What was the man doing? Did he intend to spend the day locked up in his room? Of course, there was always the possibility that Malcolm had left the inn before they arrived, but if he had, surely he would return soon.

Nathan wondered how Verity was doing out on the street. She had shown how well she was able to take care of herself, but he couldn't help but worry. If her hat somehow came off, her bound-up hair would mark her as a woman.

After a while, he got up and strolled outside to see her. She was in fine form, naturally, chattering in an almost unintelligible Cockney accent as she vigorously swept the dust from the pavement in front of a lady and her maid. She glanced up and saw Nathan, but made no sign, and after a moment he returned inside.

Clearly, there was no need to worry about Verity. She took to any role like a duck to water. Though he had spent a good bit of time with her the past few days, and Verity had learned a great deal about him, Nathan realized that he knew almost nothing about her. However, he was aware from their time at Stonecliffe that she had a very healthy appetite. So later in the day, after Nathan finished a light luncheon at the inn, he wrapped a hunk of bread and some cold meat and cheese in a napkin.

Verity wasn't busy with a customer this time, just roaming up and down the road. He walked over to her and handed her the bundled napkin. She unfolded the cloth and hesitated for a second, then looked up at him with a smile. "You brought me food."

"Well, I thought you might be hungry. I suspect the innkeeper would not let a street urchin in."

"You are right about that," she said, grinned, and thanked him. She stuffed an inelegantly large piece of bread in her mouth and turned away, keeping watch on the street.

Nathan had no reason to stay, but he lingered for another moment. "I take it you've seen nothing of our quarry." When she shook her head, he went on, "Has anyone been suspicious of you?"

Verity swallowed and cast him an amused glance. "No, but they will be if you keep popping out here to talk to me." She handed back the napkin, grinning.

Nathan rolled his eyes, determined not to rise to her teasing for once. "That's gratitude for you." He glanced about and sighed. "I fear this is getting us nowhere. I'm going back in to question the innkeeper."

"You think he'll tell you anything?"

"My dear boy," Nathan drawled in a haughty voice. "Money will open nearly all mouths." He flipped a coin to her and strode off.

Behind him, he heard her let out a crack of laughter and call out, "Thanks, guv!"

The innkeeper was pleased to see both Nathan and his money, and within minutes, Nathan was walking back outside. He looked at Verity and nodded in the direction he was proceeding, then crossed the street.

Verity caught up with him as he turned the corner. "What is it? What did you find out?"

"According to the innkeeper, Mr. Douglas gave up his room yesterday."

"He's scarpered?" Verity exclaimed.

"Apparently. Suspicious, wouldn't you say?"

Verity nodded. "He's looking more and more a villain. Why go to the trouble of moving unless it's to keep you from knowing where he is."

"What are we to do next?" Nathan went on. "We can't check every inn in London. Besides, he could have rented a flat or a house. Or moved in with his uncle—he said he'd been expecting Malcolm."

"Why go to his uncle now? He didn't before, and I can only assume that it was because he wanted to keep this scheme a secret from the man."

"Yes. Robert Douglas seemed a decent sort."

"And talkative," Verity pointed out. "The fewer people know a secret the better—and especially a man prone to chat."

"Still, that doesn't narrow our search much."

"No. But right now, I think the only choice we have is to wait and see what Malcolm's next move is. A blackmailer always turns up again," Verity said.

"Oh. Well...then I suppose we won't be together. That is, I mean, getting together to search or...whatever." Nathan's spirits fell. Sitting alone in his room for days waiting seemed a dismal prospect.

"I suppose not."

He couldn't tell from her tone whether she was glad or sorry. "Although...you know, isn't it possible he might prefer to contact us somewhere other than our homes? He doesn't want us to know where he is, but he wouldn't like meeting us again on our territory, so to speak. We could continue our charade, go to a play or ball or so on."

"Make it easier for him to approach us?" She smiled up at Nathan, her eyes twinkling in a way that told him she saw right through his excuse. They had no way of knowing where Malcolm was or if they would run into him. Nathan didn't mind; actually finding the blackmailer seemed less fun than the chase.

They strolled back to her house. Nathan knew they must look extremely odd, the gentleman and the urchin, but it was too enjoyable. He bought Verity a Banbury cake from a street vendor, and she ate it as they walked, seemingly undeterred by the dirt on her hands that she'd acquired in her role.

As they turned a corner, a lady and her maid emerged from a house down the street. Nathan narrowed his eyes, peering at the woman. "Isn't that the woman you were watching in the park?"

Verity choked on her bite of cake and her head snapped up, her eyes going to the woman. She whirled and walked quickly back the way they'd come.

"Verity?" Nathan gazed after her for a moment, then turned to look again at the women walking toward him. He was certain that it was the same pair, though without the baby. He followed Verity. She was walking so fast, it was almost a run, and Nathan had to break into a trot to catch up with her. "Verity? What was that all about? Who is that woman?"

"It's not important." Her voice was a trifle shaky. "Just business. You know."

"Not really." Nathan regarded her curiously. He could not remember ever seeing Verity this rattled, her cheeks flushed and her breath uneven. And he was certain these signs didn't come from exertion. "You think she would have recognized you? You're in disguise, after all."

"Well, um, I have spoken to her up close, you see." She added, "And I was dressed like a man then, as well."

"You're not lying as well as you do normally."

Verity looked at him, her eyes filled with a sorrow and regret that he had never seen there, and she said, "You don't carry any secrets, do you?"

She seemed so lost and vulnerable in that moment that it pierced him. Nathan was sure that the woman they'd just seen was more important than someone Verity was being paid to watch. "Verity, if there's something wrong, if you need help, I would do whatever I could to—"

"I don't need help." Her face set into stubborn lines. "And there's nothing you can do."

"I know you think I am incapable," he returned, nettled. "But I'm not entirely without skills."

"There's nothing anyone can do. And it has no bearing on what we're doing."

"So now you're the one who says we're only business, not friends."

She cast him an exasperated glance out of the corner of her eye. "I didn't say that."

"Then I am your friend?" Nathan wasn't sure why he was pressing the issue. Verity had every right to not tell him anything. But somehow it rankled—she knew all sorts of things about him, but now that she was feeling something true, something deep, she wouldn't share that part of herself.

"Yes," she replied in a goaded voice. "You're my friend."

He smiled to himself, inordinately pleased at her admission. "Well, some people find it helpful to talk to their friends."

Verity rolled her eyes as they rounded the corner to her flat. She marched inside, and Nathan followed. "I don't have that kind of friend," she said over her shoulder as she started up the stairs.

"What kind? The kind who care?" Nathan asked behind her. "The kind who'd like to help?"

She stopped halfway up the flight and turned to face him. "The kind who stick their nose where it doesn't belong."

Nathan stiffened. Why am I pursuing this? It should make no difference whether she shut him out. "You're right. I haven't any right to inquire into your life." He turned around, cursing himself for being a fool, and reached for the door handle.

"Wait, Nathan."

Nathan turned to look up at her. She looked very pale, almost frightened, and Nathan felt he had been a brute to push her to speak about something that shook her like this. "Verity, you needn't tell me."

"No." Her chin was set, her hands clenched at her sides. "You are connecting yourself to me in this pretense. It could reflect on you. You deserve to know." She drew a breath. "I murdered a man."