Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

I f Robert had been asked to put together a list of people whom he would suspect of breaking into his garden and stealing from him, the list would be long. Over the years he had accumulated a few enemies. But Lady Victoria Kembal's name wouldn't have been on that list. Hence his surprise at discovering the identity of the shadow which lurked amongst his herbs and vegetables.

What the devil am I going to do with her?

For a moment, he thought of simply letting her go. He'd give her a stern lecture about venturing into people's gardens and thieving herbs, then send her on her way. But this was the middle of the night. And she was alone.

"Stay there," he ordered.

Stepping past her, he cleared the gateway and moved into the lane. He glanced left and right. No horse. No carriage. Nothing. Had the chit walked all the way here from Berkely Square? That had to be well over a mile and a half.

Her accomplices must have dropped her off at the end of the laneway and…

He turned and came back to her side. "Who and where are the people you are working with?" She couldn't possibly be here simply to snatch up sprigs.

"I'm not working with anyone. I made a mistake. I. Oh, this is so embarrassing. I am sorry. It was foolish of me to come here." She offered him her ill-gotten haul, but Robert shook his head.

"What am I going to do with them? I can't exactly glue them back onto the plants now, can I? The damage has been done, Lady Thief."

He liked the way that name sounded, and he especially liked the look of surprise on her face. "Thieves get sent to the colonies. I'm wondering if you will be the first duke's daughter to get transported to Sydney Cove. Once I have alerted the authorities to your heinous crime, we shall know."

Her mother was going to kill her, so a perilous journey of ten thousand miles to the colony in New South Wales didn't seem such a bad idea. Though knowing the duchess, she might well be angry enough to follow, just to make certain that Victoria understood the depth of her displeasure.

The Duke of Spice had caught her in his garden. Stealing his herbs. Her concerns about Coco getting into serious trouble now paled against her own predicament. At least her sister was smart enough not to get caught.

She offered him the bouquet once more, and this time he took it. With the herbs in one hand, cocked pistol in the other, he slowly shook his head. If she was in his boots, she would also be shaking her head.

Victoria took a step back, in the direction of the garden gate. If she moved, he might decide to let her go. The sly grin on his face, along with his censorious ‘ tut tut' quickly informed her that he had no intention of letting her get off so easily.

I had to try.

They stood staring one another down for a long minute, before his expression suddenly changed. "My scones," he muttered.

"If you are baking, then I shouldn't keep you," she politely suggested.

"No you shouldn't. But as I said, here we are. Now, get inside."

He marched her into the house at gun point.

As soon as they were inside, he closed and locked the door. While he slid the night bolts into place, she had a fleeting thought of running upstairs and attempting to dash out the front door.

"I wouldn't try anything rash, Lady Thief. Pistols have a tendency to go off, and I'm sure your dear Mama and Papa wouldn't want to have to explain the circumstances of your demise." A deep rumbling laugh rose up in his chest. "Could you just imagine what the matrons of the haut ton would make of it? They would be besides themselves with glee."

She hated him, but that laugh did something to her body. Sent heat racing down her spine. Victoria chided herself. No. This was the horrible duke who had humiliated her and now held her captive—she did not find him the least bit attractive. But the gentle way his powerful hands held the delicate herbs had her swallowing deep.

I must be hallucinating in my fear.

There could be no other explanation for the mad thoughts which now ran freely through her head.

He ushered her into the kitchen, where to her relief she found a warm and inviting scene of domesticity. It was all rather cozy. The Duke of Spice might be a brute, but he kept a welcoming hearth.

Less welcoming was the length of rope he produced from under the kitchen bench and promptly used to tie her firmly to a chair. Her hands were secured behind her back so she could not escape. He knelt in front of her and used the free end of the rope to tie her ankles together.

"Pardon me laying hands on your person. But I would suggest that we are already well outside the bounds of social propriety," he said, as he touched her skin. She would have taken him to task, but her gaze was fixed on his strong, muscular thighs. The way his breeches clung to them had her fully convinced that she had indeed let go of her sanity.

He got to his feet. "Now let's see how those scones are coming along."

The duke opened the oven and taking out a tray, set it on the table. He pressed his fingers to the top of a scone. "Hmm, a little while longer, I think. The top isn't quite cooked through."

His nonchalant tone was one of a man well acquainted with baking in the middle of the night, while also holding someone captive in his house. He put the tray back into the oven. "Do you bake, Lady Victoria?"

It was the first time he had used her proper name. She'd been getting rather used to him calling her Lady Thief. It had a teasing ring to it.

"No. My mother won't let me near the kitchens at Mowbray House. Says a young lady of my standing shouldn't be the least bit interested in such matters."

He scoffed a laugh. "But running around and breaking into people's homes to rob them is acceptable?"

Victoria sighed. "No. But I didn't break into your home, I was merely strolling in your garden. And the gate was unlocked. One could almost say you invited me in."

He came closer, pulling up another chair to sit in front of her. Her gaze took in the rough stubble on his chin. The small food stain on the front of his shirt caught her eye.

She had a sudden compulsion to want to lick that spot clean.

"I have many questions—how you go about answering them depends on you. My suggestion would be to tell me the truth, as I don't make a habit of torturing women." He screwed up his face. "Actually, I haven't ever had a female prisoner before. Congratulations, you are my first."

The aroma of the scones reached her nose. She couldn't help herself. "What do you put in your scones? They smell delicious."

His face lit up in what could only be described as pure delight. "Really? They smell good to you. Well that's high praise. What with your excellent palate."

He was mocking her. She really ought to take offence. But trussed to a chair and at his mercy didn't leave her with such options.

"I'm serious. In fact, if you were to ever get to know me, you would understand that I take food very seriously indeed. Your Grace."

His brows furrowed. "Your Grace? I think we can dispense with the formalities don't you, sweet Victoria. My name is Robert, and as my private captive, you may feel free to use my first name. In fact, I insist."

She glanced down at her bound feet and softly sighed. "I don't think that would be appropriate. As you say I am your captive. Familiarity and all that."

He shifted the chair closer, and leaned in, taking her by the chin and lifting her face. She caught the scent of his cologne. But it was his gray blue eyes which held her attention. There were flecks of green in them. And a kindness that took her breath away.

"Victoria, what are we going to do about all this?" She understood the meaning in his words—he wasn't just talking about their current predicament. He meant their fight over the newspaper articles.

She cleared her throat. "You could always resign from the Morning Herald . There is no shame in admitting that you are no longer up to the task."

His roar of laughter echoed off the whitewashed bricks which lined the kitchen walls.

"Oh, you are priceless. Worth your weight in saffron. Which is actually far more valuable than gold, so you can take that as a compliment."

He rose from the chair and headed back to the oven, where he picked up a cloth and opened the metal door. "I know your beloved mama won't let you downstairs into the kitchen, so I'm afraid that my fancy new stove is rather wasted on you. But rest assured, if your family cook could see what I am using to bake my food, she would be green with envy."

The tray of now fully baked scones was placed on the table. Victoria's stomach rumbled.

"You see Victoria, this is a brand-new, built-in stove. All the way from Philadelphia in the United States of America. Cost me a small fortune. But worth every penny."

Realization hit her. If Robert, as she had been instructed by her captor to call him, wasn't such a villain, she could imagine the two of them being friends. Kindred spirits with a common enjoyment of good food.

"I've never been allowed to touch anything in the kitchens at home. That's why I have followed your newspaper reviews with such avid fervor. I cut them out of the paper each Thursday, and glue them into a large book I keep just for that express purpose. Later I add my own notes."

His brows furrowed. "What do you mean add your own notes?"

She shifted as best as she could on the hard wooden chair. "I have visited all the establishments that you've reviewed. Well, occasionally you review ones that a young lady cannot visit, but then I send one of my brothers to dine and report back to me."

Robert couldn't believe what he was hearing. This annoying chit not only followed his reviews but made a point of visiting every place he featured in the Morning Herald . For a moment he was lost for words. That was dedication.

Lady Victoria Kembal truly was a lover of fine food.

"So all those letters which you sent to the Morning Herald were really based on your own dining experiences?"

She nodded.

And I mocked her at the dinner party. Told her she was…oh lord.

He broke open one of the steaming scones, then added a large dollop of butter. Carrying it over to where she sat, he offered it to her. She raised an eyebrow, and he snorted at his own stupidity. Her hands were still tied.

Setting the scone down on the table, he returned to where she sat. "The back door is locked. The front door is also locked and bolted. There is no means of escape open to you. But. And I mean this in all sincerity. If you behave, I will untie you and let you play in my kitchen."

Play? What on earth does that mean, you dolt. She's not going want to play.

If she was anything like he assumed she was, she would find the nearest heavy object and brain him with it, then make good her escape.

"You mean I can cook? Would you show me how to make something simple? I'd love to bake."

The hope in her voice tugged at his heart. Here was a woman who wanted to learn to create, but whose station in life precluded her from such enjoyment.

Robert reached for the knot he had tied behind Victoria's ankles and loosened it. He then freed her hands and helped her to her feet. She was a little unsteady, but soon stood without his aid.

"You might want to hide that pistol before we get any cooking underway. Just to make sure I don't succumb to temptation and try to shoot you," she said.

Her eyes held a sparkle. A hint of mischief that sent a bolt of lust racing to his cock. It gave a twitch of delighted expectation. He'd been so busy taking on his enemy, he'd let his libido go fallow like a barren field. Robert couldn't recall the last time he had sown his wild oats.

The luscious Lady Victoria Kembal, his Lady Thief, had his long dormant body stirring once more to life.

She had talked of resisting temptation, yet the longer he gazed into those blue eyes of hers, the less sense resisting anything made.

"Robert?"

Heavens above, even the way she said his name had his balls throbbing, demanding he do something for them.

He tore his gaze from hers, and picking up the rope and pistol moved them out of harm's way. If he didn't get his lust under control, he might have to tie himself up.

Clearing his throat, Robert pointed to the still warm scone. "Please. I would be interested in what you have to say about my bacon and chive scones."

Victoria picked up the scone and took a generous bite. She hummed while she chewed, and it was all Robert could do not to drop to his knees and beg for her forgiveness. When she wiped a stray spot of butter from the corner of her mouth, he wanted nothing more than to feel the heat of her tongue on his naked flesh.

She was alone with him in his house. His prisoner. He could do with her as he pleased.

An honorable man would show Victoria out the front door, and hail a hack, sending her safely home to her family. But as Robert loosened his hold on his inner villain, he decided that Lady Victoria Kembal wasn't going anywhere.

She was a delicious creature caught in his wicked web.

I might toy with her for a little longer.