The Last Wicked Scoundrel Read Free Page B

She was watching her young son play with Frannie in William’s garden, and her delight had given him his first sprig of hope that she would indeed recover, that he had managed to discover every injury that needed tending. But now he had to wonder if he had overlooked something, something vital that might plague her for the remainder of her years. “I didn’t mean to cause you undue worry. Tonight is supposed to be for merriment.”
    But he was concerned. People could appear perfectly fine, but something dark and sinister could be lurking, waiting to snatch away life. In his youth, he’d been far too familiar with dark and sinister, and his fears had led to disaster. No matter how many lives he saved, he could not make amends for the life that had been forfeit because of his weakness. “I want you to come to my office tomorrow for an examination.”
    “Do you really think that’s necessary?”
    “I won’t know until I have a look. And I’ll send word ’round to Inspector Swindler of Scotland Yard. I’m not an expert on safes. They weren’t my purview when I lived on the streets, but he should be able to examine yours in order to determine if someone without a key managed to break into it.”
    “I forgot you were once a thief. I’ve only heard bits of rumors about your past. Was it horrid?”
    “Not all of it.” He cradled her face between his hands. A mistake. Her skin was so smooth, like the finest of silk. At her throat, he could feel her pulse thrumming against his fingers. “I want you to promise that you will come see me tomorrow.”
    “Yes, all right. Is it still the place where you took me all those years ago?”
    He couldn’t help himself. He skimmed his thumbs over her cheeks. “Yes. I can send a carriage round for you.”
    “No, I remember where it is. I can find it. What time?”
    Tracing the outer line of her lips, he heard her soft intake of breath. “Whatever time works best for you.”
    She simply nodded, her gaze fastened on him. Considering what he knew of her past, he was surprised that she didn’t run screaming back to the residence.
    “I don’t want you to be afraid, Winnie.” He cursed himself for the ease with which her name rolled off his tongue.
    “I’m not when I’m with you.”
    You should be, he thought. God help her, but she should be. Whatever reservoir of control he possessed dissipated.
    With a harsh curse echoing between them, he lowered his mouth to hers. Her lips were as plump and soft as he’d always imagined, parting slightly, hesitantly, inviting him to take further liberties. And he was scoundrel enough to accept the invitation.
    She moaned as he swept his tongue through her sweet mouth. She tasted of champagne, and he wondered if she were at ease with him because she’d had a few glasses too many. Then his wondering turned to wonder as her tongue explored his mouth with equal fervor. The advantage to being with a widow. She wasn’t innocent. God, he knew she was far from that. She clutched the lapels of his jacket. Closing his arms around her, he brought her in closer to him, until her body was pressed against his. He could feel her curves, her dips and swells. He cursed the clothes separating them.
    Her nails scraped his scalp just before her fingers trailed along his jaw. Sighing, she wound her arms around his neck, bringing herself in even nearer.
    For three years now, he had dreamed of this moment, fantasized about it, envisioned it, but had never dared believe he would ever possess it. He didn’t want to give it up, didn’t want to stop. He delved deeper, unleashing the hunger he’d held in check—for her, only for her.
    She deserved someone far better than he, someone who didn’t lie, who didn’t hold secrets, who could sit with her before a fire and never fear being honest. But with her, he would always have to watch his words, always take care in what he revealed. She had said she wasn’t afraid of him, but he knew that if she understood