Cock of the North simply for his excellent sartorial habits. She'd thought to use the
as a means of disarming him, stunning him until she could get away unscathed. She was out of her depth with such a master. She had waited too long, indulged herself too much, letting herself be seduced by the clean smell of him, san-dalwood and spices mixed with the starch of his fresh-washed shirt. By the time she realised the tables were turning on her, it was almost too late.
At the last moment, she'd felt the slight shift of his mouth as he took over the
felt the erotic pressure of his thumbs against her hip bones. She'd taken the only defensive line left to her and recoiled, grabbing the opportunity to speak first, knowing that whoever did so would control the outcome of the interaction. Then she'd
The evening's visit had proved dangerous in ways she and
16
Pickpocket Countess
her two comrades had not expected, but by tomorrow afternoon, the danger would be worth it when news circulated that The Cat had hit Stockport Hall while the Earl was within planning The
capture.
She and her two comrades had been watching the house for a week after learning that the local neighbours had sent an urgent summons to the Earl, dragging him out of the Michaelmas Session of Parliament early so they could hold a meeting to nab the thief. Breaking into the Earl's house while they discussed The Cat would be a bold
into the man's
private rooms would be even more so.
Those rooms were as elegant as his reported personality. Table tops and dressers held myriad expensive accoutrements of a well-groomed gentleman, from expensive ebony-inlaid combs and brushes to silver-handled shaving gear. She should have stolen them. Those items would have brought enough money to keep a family in food until summer. But her eye had been drawn to the velvet casket and she couldn't resist inside.
The ring was a bounty. She'd taken it and then realised it was such a small item the Earl might not notice it was gone for weeks. But the ring was all she needed and The Cat prided herself on not taking more than was
of the many
lessons she wanted to teach these gluttonous industrial barons.
Still, if the ring wasn't noticed missing immediately, its theft wouldn't help her cause. She wanted more from Stockport than his valuables. She wanted him to
she'd been there and
when. She'd begun to disarrange the room, intuitively knowing that such an act would get his attention more completely than taking other conspicuous items.
As with all her robberies, the larger implication of her work was twofold. First, she wanted to be an annoyance significant enough to make them re-think the building of the factory.
Second, she wanted to prick the social consciousness into action regarding the sorry status of a factory worker's life.
Scott
17
Unsafe working conditions had cost her parents their lives.
She'd be damned if it would hurt others.
Her plan had gone well enough until she'd bumped into a chair sitting in a dark comer. It hadn't made much noise, but it made enough to catch his attention since his chambers were over the library. She'd relished the confrontation that had followed.
She had gloried in his reaction. He'd roused to her. Unfortunately, that was all she had to show for the night's work.
Something beneath his terse command to release the ring had touched her and she'd traded the ring for an ardent bout of kissing. Arousing the Earl of Stockport might be a satisfying touch of one-upmanship, but it wouldn't feed families.
Determined to rectify that aspect of the evening, Nora became practical. She needed
and the night was still
new. She'd cut cross country to Squire Bradley's house and help herself to another piece of silver from the butler's pantry.
The Squire's night watchman was pathetic. In a half-hour he'd be asleep or drunk or both.
Two hours and a successful stop at the Squire's later, Nora let herself into an unremarkable grange house and crept
as a means of disarming him, stunning him until she could get away unscathed. She was out of her depth with such a master. She had waited too long, indulged herself too much, letting herself be seduced by the clean smell of him, san-dalwood and spices mixed with the starch of his fresh-washed shirt. By the time she realised the tables were turning on her, it was almost too late.
At the last moment, she'd felt the slight shift of his mouth as he took over the
felt the erotic pressure of his thumbs against her hip bones. She'd taken the only defensive line left to her and recoiled, grabbing the opportunity to speak first, knowing that whoever did so would control the outcome of the interaction. Then she'd
The evening's visit had proved dangerous in ways she and
16
Pickpocket Countess
her two comrades had not expected, but by tomorrow afternoon, the danger would be worth it when news circulated that The Cat had hit Stockport Hall while the Earl was within planning The
capture.
She and her two comrades had been watching the house for a week after learning that the local neighbours had sent an urgent summons to the Earl, dragging him out of the Michaelmas Session of Parliament early so they could hold a meeting to nab the thief. Breaking into the Earl's house while they discussed The Cat would be a bold
into the man's
private rooms would be even more so.
Those rooms were as elegant as his reported personality. Table tops and dressers held myriad expensive accoutrements of a well-groomed gentleman, from expensive ebony-inlaid combs and brushes to silver-handled shaving gear. She should have stolen them. Those items would have brought enough money to keep a family in food until summer. But her eye had been drawn to the velvet casket and she couldn't resist inside.
The ring was a bounty. She'd taken it and then realised it was such a small item the Earl might not notice it was gone for weeks. But the ring was all she needed and The Cat prided herself on not taking more than was
of the many
lessons she wanted to teach these gluttonous industrial barons.
Still, if the ring wasn't noticed missing immediately, its theft wouldn't help her cause. She wanted more from Stockport than his valuables. She wanted him to
she'd been there and
when. She'd begun to disarrange the room, intuitively knowing that such an act would get his attention more completely than taking other conspicuous items.
As with all her robberies, the larger implication of her work was twofold. First, she wanted to be an annoyance significant enough to make them re-think the building of the factory.
Second, she wanted to prick the social consciousness into action regarding the sorry status of a factory worker's life.
Scott
17
Unsafe working conditions had cost her parents their lives.
She'd be damned if it would hurt others.
Her plan had gone well enough until she'd bumped into a chair sitting in a dark comer. It hadn't made much noise, but it made enough to catch his attention since his chambers were over the library. She'd relished the confrontation that had followed.
She had gloried in his reaction. He'd roused to her. Unfortunately, that was all she had to show for the night's work.
Something beneath his terse command to release the ring had touched her and she'd traded the ring for an ardent bout of kissing. Arousing the Earl of Stockport might be a satisfying touch of one-upmanship, but it wouldn't feed families.
Determined to rectify that aspect of the evening, Nora became practical. She needed
and the night was still
new. She'd cut cross country to Squire Bradley's house and help herself to another piece of silver from the butler's pantry.
The Squire's night watchman was pathetic. In a half-hour he'd be asleep or drunk or both.
Two hours and a successful stop at the Squire's later, Nora let herself into an unremarkable grange house and crept
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