Deceived Read Free Page B

doing here?"
    Isabella glanced toward the door, where she imagined that the turnkey's ear was welded to the grille. There could be no names exchanged now if she wanted to preserve her anonymity, as presumably he wished to preserve his.
    "I was looking for someone," she said.
    "But not me, I assume." Stockhaven came to his feet with a compact grace. He was tall and broad-shouldered and his presence seemed to dominate the shabby cell. There was latent power in every line of his body—power that the stuffy confines of the room could not stifle. Isabella found that she was instinctively backing away, though he made no move toward her. She took a deep breath and forced herself to hold her ground.
    "No, I was not looking for you specifically," she said, "but now that I have found you—" She paused. Could she come out with the proposal now? No, that was a little too blunt, even for her. Besides, there were things that she wished to know.
    "More to the point," she said, "what are you doing here, sir, under the name of John Ellis?"
    She saw his dark gaze narrow on her acutely, and although his expression was blank a few seconds later, she read his feelings clearly enough. This mattered to him. He did not want her to give his true identity away and he would certainly have preferred that she had not stumbled across him in the Fleet of all places.
    "Forgive me, but that is none of your business." His tone was clipped.
    "I think it might be." Isabella took a step farther into the cell. There were a hundred and one doubts and reasons hammering in her mind, telling her that it was the worst possible idea in the world to petition Marcus Stockhaven to marry her. She ignored them. She had been offered a chance, the possibility of a bargain, and she was going to take it.
    "I have a proposition for you, sir," she said, once again careful not to address Stockhaven by name. "Help me and I will. . .help you. At the least, I will hold my tongue and tell no one that I have seen you."
    Marcus Stockhaven did not speak. There was a quality in his silence that intimidated her. She hurried on. "I do not suppose that anyone knows that you are here?"
    Still he did not reply.
    "I do not suppose that you wish anyone to know that you are here?" Isabella pursued.
    This time she saw that her words had penetrated his silence. He gave an involuntary movement. Again that hard, dark gaze raked her. "Perhaps not."
    "The disgrace of the debtor's prison—"
    "Quite so," he interrupted her. "Are you seeking to blackmail me, madam?" His mouth twisted in an ironic smile. "I regret I cannot pay."
    "I do not want your money," Isabella said. "I need a favor."
    "A favor from me?" Stockhaven's smile deepened. "You must be desperate indeed to even think of asking."
    "Perhaps so. As you must be to be here in the first place."
    Stockhaven acknowledged the hit with an inclination of the head. "So? In what way may we be. . .mutually. . . helpful?"
    There was an element in his tone that brought color to Isabella's cheeks. There had always been something about this man that cut straight through her defenses and made them as thin as parchment. She felt astonishingly vulnerable, deeply disturbed by his presence and the memories he stirred. She sought to disguise her nervousness.
    She looked around the filthy cell, from the water seeping through the walls to the bare mattress boasting a single dirty blanket.
    "In return for a favor from you, I will not only hold my tongue but I am prepared to make your stay here more comfortable," she said. "A room of your own, clean linen, good food and wine—" she looked at the book he had placed on the table "—more books to read.
    Isabella saw his gaze narrow on her thoughtfully. She took a step closer to him in silent appeal. For a moment Marcus Stockhaven was silent. She could feel herself trembling as she waited for his response.
    "How generous," he said. "So what is it that you want?" His tone was even but his dark eyes were very