Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

It was fifteen minutes past curfew when Joanna entered the hall of Fortune's Den with Mr Chance. Amid the stillness, they both sighed, glad the constable wasn't waiting to cart them away in his prison wagon. Relieved the night was at an end, and there might be some respite from the confounding feelings plaguing them both.

There would be no respite for her.

Not when he filled every space in her heart and mind.

She wanted to slip into his warm embrace, kiss him, indulge in wicked fantasies, but she had to be strong. She was falling in love with him. A slow tumble that began weeks ago and gained momentum the moment their lips met.

But one could not make a life with half a man.

While Gabriel wanted nothing, Mr Chance's demons left him wavering between worlds, drifting between darkness and daylight, between freedom and fear. A wanderer on a quest to escape his emotions.

It hurt to think about it. She had gripped his arm and promised friendship, but how did one douse the flames of desire? Like the sacred fire on Mount Olympus, would her need for him always burn this fiercely? Would she die with his name on her lips?

"I shall write to my family in the morning and insist they reside here," he said, jostling her from her reverie. "I was wrong to think we'd be safer apart. As we learned tonight, my nemesis has Lucifer's cunning."

He referred to the threatening letter and the villain's plan to use Lucia to throw them off the scent—the scheme to blame a maid, not a master criminal. The devil was always one step ahead. But Aaron Chance had another reason for not wanting to be alone with her.

"Can I ask you something?"

He looked at her in the gloom. "You can ask me anything."

Do you believe we can be friends and nothing more?

Is it possible to kiss like we did and forget it ever happened?

"When did you realise nothing would ever be more important than your family?" A wave of emotion tightened her throat. A selfish part of her hoped she haunted his waking hours and stalked his dreams. "Help me understand what the vow means to you."

He stared at her like she'd asked him to descend into the bowels of hell. "I try to avoid revisiting dark memories, but I will for you." He stepped closer, the power of attraction sparking between them. Standing in the gloom, he inhaled as if bolstering his defences. "I was barely thirteen when I realised I would die to protect my brothers."

"So young?" What was he like then? Had he always possessed a commanding presence? Had he been a fearful boy forced to become a man?

"It wasn't by choice." He averted his gaze, not wanting her to see how much the memory pained him.

"You enjoy philosophy and medieval history. I imagine you were quite studious then." When did his thirst for knowledge become a thirst for blood ?

A sigh of regret escaped him. "Tales of the Crusades are unimportant when you're trying to survive. Nothing matters but living to see the sunrise."

Fractured memories of her own past entered her mind. A frightened girl of eighteen searching taverns and brothels looking for her absent father. The hunt for lost pennies to buy food and coal. Lying awake in the dark, wondering when he would come home.

"I understand," she said. His scars were thin white lines weaving a path across his chest. Like an iceberg, the real depth of his pain remained hidden beneath the surface. "You were fighting in the pits then."

"More dodging and defending than fighting, but I was quick on my feet and learned to punch back. I imagined every opponent was my father. Hatred can give a boy the power of the gods."

Her heart wept for him. He must have been terrified.

"And your brothers didn't suffer in the same way?"

"He came for Aramis once." Mr Chance gritted his teeth and cursed his father to Hades. "He needed a weak, inexperienced boy because it pleased the punters, and he had already taken his fee."

"Was there no end to your father's cruelty?"

"Ignatius Chance lived to please himself."

"So you strive to be the father your brothers never had."

He nodded. "We all deserved better."

"Did he take Aramis that night?" Joanna imagined a boy waking amid a violent thunderstorm, a flash of lightning illuminating a slobbering beast lingering in the doorway.

"No. I pleaded with him and agreed to take a beating. I suffered three cracked ribs, a split lip and a fractured wrist. He made me fight a fortnight later."

His eyes held a haunted look.

That's when she knew the nightmares still plagued him .

"Did he try to take your brother again?"

"No," he said proudly. "I did what he wanted as long as he left my brothers alone. Then he died, disowned by his family and drowning in debt. Our stepmother stole what little was left before dragging us from our beds and dumping us in the rookeries."

Joanna barely remembered her mother but knew she was kind and had the patience of a saint. "Your stepmother sounds as wicked as your father."

"She choked on a chicken bone years later. I regret not being there to witness her clawing her throat in an effort to breathe." His eyes were cold like flint as he spoke about the woman he despised. "I was grateful for the education. It hardened me in ways you cannot imagine."

Yet he was a different man when he kissed her.

He was passionate and tender.

Keen to offer light relief, and because she wouldn't sleep without asking the question rebounding in her mind, she said, "Did you mean what you said to Mrs Flavell tonight? That you won't kiss another woman as long as you live?"

"I meant every word."

"I see." The tragedy of it was too hard to contemplate. She should be thinking about Lucia and her persuasive confession. They had taken the maid home and searched her room, but the girl kept repeating the same story. "Thank you for being honest with me."

"Friends don't lie to each other."

She wished they could be more than friends, but he was right. There was a side of him she didn't know. She wanted all of him, not the part he was willing to share.

"Well, it's late," she said, knowing she should leave before they fell into each other's arms and kissed like they were two halves of a whole. "I suspect this is the last time we'll be alone together. "

"If my family agree to come home tomorrow, we'll not get a minute's peace." A wistful smile touched his lips. "Yet, there's beauty in the chaos."

Joanna agreed. The hours spent listening to her friends' problems and amusing tales left her feeling blessed, not burdened.

Nerves had her shifting her feet, but she had to speak truthfully. "In case we're denied an opportunity to speak privately again, I want to apologise for calling you a prized ape some weeks ago. In truth, I think you're a remarkable man, Mr Chance."

His eyes brightened. "Mr Chance? Do friends not use given names?"

She smiled or else she might cry. "Maintaining a certain formality between us is best. You've spent months striving to keep your distance, and for good reason. The world fails to exist when we kiss."

He glanced at her mouth, the air between them alive with unfulfilled longing. She felt the deep tug in her gut, the profound pull of attraction, the ache only he could sate.

"Good night," she said before she acted on impulse.

She left him alone in the hall, her stomach churning, her legs shaking, and mounted the stairs quickly.

He called out to her. "Joanna."

She turned, gripping the banister. "Yes."

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For helping to keep the darkness at bay. These moments with you make me forget I'm the dangerous devil men fear."

Tears filled her eyes. Not because she wanted to kiss him but because she could hear the boy still trying to dodge life's punches.

"I lost sight of myself this last week, too." She should have raced to her room but took a step towards him, drawn by a force she could not explain. "My grandfather bought the house across the street forty years ago. I don't remember him, but he changed my life when he left it to me."

Mr Chance moved to grip the newel post.

"I can't help but feel I was destined to live opposite you," she said, confused why she could not push him from her mind when there would be no happy ending for them. "Perhaps whatever exists between us was meant to cause chaos. That this is all part of a bigger plan." A spiritual education.

There was an unmistakable look in his eyes, a silent plea for something more intimate than words. "Do you know what prevents me from mounting the stairs and inviting you to my bedchamber?"

"Yes, your vow."

"No, the fact I would rather die than hurt you. I would rather suffer your indifference than your disappointment. I would rather be a man you admire, not one you grow to hate."

Their eyes remained locked, their breathing no doubt mimicking the erratic train of their thoughts. Should she take a step forward or make a hasty retreat? Could she begin a love affair with him and keep her heart intact?

Fate made the decision for her.

The clopping of horses' hooves and the rattle of carriage wheels on the cobblestones outside drew their attention to the front door. The vehicle stopped. A man called to the driver, the muffled voice impossible to identify.

A chill of fear swept through her.

Had there been a new development in the case? Had the magistrate come to make an arrest? Or was Mr Daventry the bearer of bad news?

The caller knocked on the door—the thud like a death knell—then he turned the handle, grumbling when two dogs began barking in the street.

Mr Chance tutted and marched to the door. "If that's a wastrel come to ask when the club reopens, there'll be hell to pay." He looked through the viewing window, gave a shocked gasp and opened the door.

Three people hurried into the hall, escaping the cold weather.

"Oh, what a dreadful night," Mr Chance's sister, Delphine, exclaimed. "We left Oxford at three o'clock, but there was a terrible accident near Waddesden. The road was blocked for hours. Then a vagrant tried to steal our luggage, and Dorian gave chase. We thought we'd never get home."

Joanna watched from the gloomy depths of the stairs.

"We planned to arrive before the club opened," the lady's husband, Dorian Flynn, said. He removed his hat and combed his fingers through his dark hair. "Hoping to cover sixty miles in five hours was wishful thinking on my part."

"Did you not receive my letter?" Mr Chance snapped.

Mrs Maloney—a kind, loving woman who had given the family lodgings as children and was like a second mother—wasn't concerned about the accident or the delay. "It's as I thought. The problem is more serious than you mentioned in your letter." She tugged off her glove and cupped Mr Chance's cheek. "Are your brothers well?"

"Presently. You were told to remain in Oxford." He did not sound pleased. "No one knew you were there. Now, you've merely added to my burden."

"We were worried," Delphine said in their defence. "Where else would we be than here, offering our support?"

From amid the shadows, Joanna cleared her throat and descended the stairs. "Good evening. Mr Chance is just relieved you arrived home safely. You must be tired and cold after your long journey. I'll light a fire in the drawing room and make tea."

"Miss Lovelace." Delphine's gasp became a slow smile as she scanned Joanna's daring dress. "What a pleasant surprise to find you here late at night. And what a beautiful gown, and such a fetching shade of blue. You look breathtaking. "

"I borrowed it from Mrs Daventry for the soiree we attended tonight."

Mrs Maloney's eyes widened. "Aaron went out?"

"To a demimonde gathering," Mr Chance said impatiently. "We're working with Daventry on a case. It was business, not pleasure." He cast a covert glance Joanna's way, the warmth in his eyes so opposed to his cold, abrupt tone.

"We've both been framed for murder," Joanna informed them.

"Murder?" all three said in unison.

"It's a long story." Mr Chance motioned to the drawing room. "I'll explain everything, but I insist you reside here until the matter is resolved." He drew the villain's letter from his pocket and gave it to Mr Flynn. "Threats have been made to our family. You'll do exactly as I say. Is that understood?"

Mr Flynn read the missive.

The men shared a look of genuine concern.

"Do you know who sent this?" Mr Flynn handed the note to his wife. "What other threats have been made?"

"Berridge is involved, though I have no proof. The magistrate has granted us a temporary reprieve while we hunt for clues."

"I knew that ingrate would come for my boys one day," Mrs Maloney said in a venomous voice. "Perhaps I should just shoot him and be done with it. It's not like I have long to live."

Mr Chance wrapped his arm around Mrs Maloney's slumped shoulders. "I'll not see you rotting in gaol. Every day you're in our lives is a blessing."

The elderly woman melted into him. "That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me." She tapped his chest directly over his heart. "Perhaps the iron casing is cracking."

"Or perhaps I'm preparing you for bad news. I told Aramis to close your bookshop. Although Naomi agreed to take care of things in your absence, she wasn't safe there. "

Mrs Maloney shrugged. "They're just books. Protecting the people we love is more important. I suppose I'm to remain here, too."

"Yes. Don't force me to tie you to a chair."

Delphine hugged her husband's arm. "I have fond memories of you sneaking into my room. Now you can stay the night."

Mr Chance cleared his throat. "Miss Lovelace is staying in your room. The crime was committed at The Burnished Jade. She had nowhere else to go."

That wasn't entirely true.

She could have stayed with Gabriel.

"You put her on the third floor when the house is empty?" Delphine sounded more amused than shocked. "It makes sense, I suppose, what with debt-ridden wastrels wandering about the place."

"I closed the club almost a week ago."

"Oh."

"I can move rooms in the morning," Joanna said, not wanting to cause problems. If she rose early enough, she could help Eloise with the bedsheets.

Delphine was quick to accept the offer. "I don't want to be a nuisance, though it would be nice to stay in my old room. The chamber next to Aaron's is vacant. The bed is huge, and it's much more spacious. I'm sure Aaron will give you the key to the adjoining door."

"We will discuss it in the morning," came Mr Chance's sharp reply. "Miss Lovelace is a guest here. She can have whichever room suits her needs best."

"I could always stay with Miss Stowe," Joanna suggested. It would allow her to keep a watchful eye on Lucia.

"Perhaps you should explain what's occurred before any decisions are made," Mr Flynn said, his impatience evident. "I'm skilled at finding people. I may be able to help bring the matter to a swift conclusion. "

Mr Chance gestured to the drawing room. "Pour the drinks while I change. I suspect we all need a stiff brandy."

"I shall leave you to talk privately and bid you good night." Joanna remained on the stairs. "It's been a long day." And Delphine was looking at her most peculiarly. "Mr Chance has the full measure of the situation."

His family wished her good night and moved to the drawing room while Mr Chance insisted on accompanying her upstairs.

"All I can smell is the smoke from burnt opium on my clothes. The stench reminds me of everything I hate about the demimonde." His hand rested on the small of her back, heat infusing every cell in her body. "If you're comfortable upstairs, Delphine can occupy the room next to mine. You don't need to reside with Miss Stowe."

"Are you sure you want them next door? Their hunger for each other is evident even in the most mundane conversations."

Hunger clawed the air now—a thick and tangible desire to continue what they had started in the maze—swamping them with every step, every breath, every shaky exhale.

"Delphine wants to spend time with her husband in her old room," Joanna continued, knowing what would happen if she was alone in a bedchamber with Mr Chance. "I think they wish to revisit a treasured memory. You mustn't persuade her to sleep elsewhere. I'll consider my options in the morning."

They reached the landing, expecting to part, but it was like their feet were fixed to the floor. Their eyes remained locked on each other.

"Before you go, perhaps you should inspect the room next to mine." His husky voice spoke of an entirely different inspection. "Delphine will insist it's the best option. You may think differently."

"You mean I might refuse to sleep next door to a beast," she said with a coy grin. "It might be best if I stay with Miss Stowe. I suspect Delphine is a pupil at Mr Daventry's school for matchmakers."

He didn't smile or laugh, though his breathing quickened. "Don't leave," he suddenly uttered, the words almost a plea. "I want you to stay. At least look at the room."

He offered his hand and she took it, lacing her fingers with his.

Foolish girl! her father would have said.

But Joanna followed him along the hall, lured by the prospect of sharing an intimate moment, longing to feel the warmth of his lips.

Mr Chance brought her to a halt outside his bedchamber. "Delphine's matchmaking efforts are wasted. I've known you're the only woman I need for some time." His gaze dipped to her mouth. "Perhaps you might permit me to demonstrate."

Fascinated by him, she nodded.

He captured her chin and kissed her slowly, his tongue stroking hers in the same hypnotic way his fingers had explored her sex. "Don't leave." The words sounded pained this time. "I want you here, not with Miss Stowe. Say you'll stay."

It was pointless arguing. Her body sang to his tune. The tightening coil in her belly had command of her senses. "I'll stay for a day or two, but we play a dangerous game."

He drew her into his chamber and kicked the door shut.

It was dark, but he didn't light the lamp.

"Tell me I'm not the only one losing my mind," he hissed, pressing her against the wall, crushing her to his hard body. "Tell me all you think about is the feel of your mouth on mine."

"I've thought of little else."

"How can we ease the cravings?"

She shrugged. "We could stop talking and kiss."

He claimed her mouth in fierce possession, the kiss almost savage in its desperation. Each thrust of his tongue had the muscles in her core clenching while greedy moans rumbled in his throat.

She felt drunk on the taste of him, intoxicated by his earthy masculine scent. There wasn't a place he didn't touch her, a palm skimming her breast then the curve of her hip, fingers squeezing one fleshy buttock, his skilled hands igniting a fire in her blood.

Don't ever stop touching me, Aaron.

"Say you need more. I need to hear those pretty moans when you come again, Joanna," he said, answering her silent plea. "I can't get enough of you. Every part of me aches to feel close to you. Say you'll stay until we solve the case."

"We'll never solve the case if I sleep next door." Yet she was already anticipating the night they would make love, their naked bodies entwined until dawn. "We'll be lovers, consumed by our passions."

"Maybe we should accept the inevitable. We could move between rooms without anyone knowing. I could lounge on your bed and watch you bathe."

What had brought about this sudden change in him? Did he believe things would be different now his family were home? Was it her threat to stay with Miss Stowe? Or the fear their time together might soon end?

"We don't have long," he panted, shrugging out of his coat and throwing it to the floor as if the garment offended him. "I need to join my family in the drawing room, but I'll feel your hands on my body first."

Lust was akin to madness.

Her heart thumped a frantic rhythm.

She practically tore the clothes off his back, dragging his shirt over his head like the material burned him.

"Touch me, Joanna."

His skin burned beneath her palms, though every muscle was hard like granite. She caressed him, her fingers roaming over the scars cutting through the dark hair, her heart breaking while he closed his eyes and groaned with pleasure.

Who did this to you?

Who hurt you when you needed love?

Though silent, the words still choked her.

But she could love him now.

She touched every inch of him, pushing her hands into his hair and tugging hard while raining kisses over his jaw and throat. Her fingers followed the tantalising trail of dark hair disappearing below the waistband of his trousers.

"Don't," he said when she slipped the first button. "They're the only thing stopping me from having you. If you free me, I'm done for."

Joanna bit back a smile.

She had Aaron Chance at her mercy.

Who'd have thought it was possible?

"When I take you into my body, Aaron, we'll need hours, not minutes, to slake our desire." She liked being brazen. Liked the power of taking control of her destiny. "And I will have you inside me. If not now, then soon, very soon."

"Don't tease me when I'm this aroused."

She ran her hand over the placket of his trousers, stroking his solid length. His manhood was long and thick and hard against her fingers.

"Joanna," he breathed, his head falling back despite the warning.

"Perhaps I might make you come, Aaron." She didn't know how but would improvise. He seemed to like it when her thumb grazed the head of his shaft. "We'll sneak outside when everyone is in bed, and I'll touch you beneath the moonlight."

"Save that thought." He scooped her into his strong arms and carried her to his bed. "You'll move into the room next door tonight while I'm downstairs discussing our dilemma. It's not up for negotiation. "

"What if I hate the decor?" She laughed when he threw her onto the bed. "Should I not inspect the room first?"

"It doesn't matter. You won't be sleeping there." His hand slid under her skirts and over her stocking to the leather sheath still buckled to her thigh. "You'll come to my room wearing nothing but this tomorrow night."

"I thought you disapprove of me carrying a blade."

"A dangerous man needs a dangerous woman. It took all my strength to remove the blade and not ravish you on the stairs." Cool air breezed over her thighs as he shoved her skirts to her waist and parted her legs. "Will you permit me to take liberties now, Joanna? I'll not remove my trousers. Not tonight. You have my word."

"We're lovers, Aaron." There was no denying it. They were destined to be lovers from the moment they kissed. How long this love affair lasted was a question she refused to consider. "My body is yours. I give it to you freely."

"Are you sure that's wise?" The glint of mischief in his eyes heightened her arousal. "I shall tongue your sex the way I did your mouth."

As long as she lived, she would never forget the first glide of Aaron's tongue over her bud. The warm waves of heat. The brush of stubble over the sensitive skin. The tingles down her spine. Every muscle tensing, anticipating release.

But that's not what made her climax so powerful.

It was him.

The smell of him. The humming sound he made against her sex. The intensity of his gaze when their eyes met. The feel of his fingers pushing deep inside her. The beauty of knowing how badly he wanted her.

"Aaron." His given name burst from her lips as she shuddered against him, clamping around his fingers while he whispered words of encouragement .

"Hug me and don't let go. God, you're so beautiful when you come. I'm so desperate to be inside you it's driving me insane."

Somewhere in her hazy mind, she heard a loud thud on the front door. Seconds passed before voices echoed in the hall and Mr Flynn raced upstairs to hammer on Mr Chance's bedchamber door.

"Aaron? You need to come downstairs."

He cursed against her bare thigh. "What is it? I'll be down in a minute."

"Daventry is here."

"Pour him a drink. Entertain him while I change."

But Mr Flynn uttered the damning words that would change Joanna's life irrevocably. "Daventry said it's urgent. Something about the magistrate issuing a warrant. They're going to arrest Miss Lovelace for murder."