The Infamous Rogue Part 5

"Fine," snapped James. "We'll hunt down the impostors and thrash 'em-but not today."

"And not tomorrow, I a.s.sume," said William dryly. "You're going to a house party."

Edmund looked at his older brother. "You're going to a house party?"

The captain growled. "I am."

Quincy screwed up his lips. "Why?"

"Sophia will be at the house party," returned Wil iam.

"Oh," from both Quincy and Edmund.

James offered the lieutenant a look of murder. "I trust you three can take care of the matter while I'm gone? Start making inquiries about the impostors."

That seemed to mollify the lieutenant. The two bucks perked up at the news, as wel .

The restless fledglings had had the most difficult time giving up piracy. He and Wil iam had enjoyed the spoils of the sea for more than two decades, but Edmund and Quincy had only just tasted the pleasures of piracy before they'd had to "retire" as brigands to protect their sister's reputation. That had been four years ago. And ever since that time, the two young men were always first to volunteer for any adventure.

Perhaps William had had a point, that he was not the only one struggling with their newfound positions as merchant sailors and society outcasts. Not that he was in any condition to acknowledge the point.

"Now get out," said James, his head ready to burst from the gnawing pressure.

William was already on his feet, and so headed for the door. Edmund and Quincy trailed behind him.

"Oh, Will, did you ask James about-"

Once again, Quincy faltered mid-thought. But this time William had curtailed him. He squeezed the back of the pup's neck and shoved him out the door. "No, I didn't, Quincy.

Next time."

James was too disoriented to listen to the baffling exchange. He was only grateful for the quiet that followed the men's belated departures.

As soon as the door closed softly, James shut his eyes and breathed deep. He tried to hush the mesh of voices and sharp memories that crowded in his skull, but the d.a.m.nable thoughts kept coming, hounding him...one thought more pressing than the rest.

How could Sophia do this to herself? To be a countess would crush her spirit. The restrictions imposed on a lady's conduct were brutal. He had only to attend a tiresome soiree to find dozens of timid maidens ruled by convention. According to his pestering brother, even Bel e had struggled with being a d.u.c.h.ess. However, she was in love with her b.l.o.o.d.y husband. What excuse did Sophia have for entering such a cold and pa.s.sionless world? She wanted to be a countess, true. But was that all she wanted, the t.i.tle? Was that why she had deserted him seven years ago? Because he didn't have a blasted rank? What did she want with it?

James furled his fingers into fists. Sophia wouldn't survive the wedding tour as a countess. Her spirit would wither under the merciless scrutiny...so what did he care? If she wanted to sell her soul, let her. He shouldn't give a d.a.m.n. She had startled him with her unexpected presence at the ball. He had recovered now. He wouldn't let the witch twist his guts and warp his thoughts anymore. He wouldn't let her claim his mind and chain him to her like a slave. He had already made that mistake once.

His limbs pulsed with the memory of the empty plantation house, the wretched timepiece. She had walked away from him without even a n.i.g.g.ardly thought...but she stil desired him.

The blood in his veins roared with need. The fiery witch espoused her distaste for him, flourished her blade at him. But he had tasted the sweet desire on her lips last night. He had caressed her spine and sensed the tremors rolling along her quietly shuddering limbs.

She had failed to hide her true self from him. She had failed to stomp out her burning pa.s.sions.

She wanted to be one of them: a n.o.ble lady. But she didn't have it in her to conform to the strict rules of the ton. She was an outcast, like him. And he would prove it to her.

A dark thought sparked. He wanted to strip away her false mannerisms, her prudish ideas. He wanted her to accept her true, spirited nature, to admit she would never be happy with the tractable earl. He wanted her to end her courts.h.i.+p with the fop-and come to him.

James let the thought settle; he draped his arm over his eyes. He imagined the lush feel of her thick hair wrapped in his hands. He imagined the salty taste of her moist flesh, her wanton cries in bed. He wanted one more night with her. He wanted one final-and proper-good-bye, to bring her to her knees in helpless desire before he walked away from her-as she had once walked away from him.

Chapter 4.

S ophia skulked through the shadows of the St. James's district. A hired hackney coach had dropped her off a short distance away. She intended to make the remainder of the trip on foot.

She was confident she would not be recognized. It was late. The darkness masked her features. She was wearing a deep hooded mantle, too.

Lady Lucas would have her head if she ever discovered her midnight gallivanting. The bachelor quarters of London were no place for a lady, and Sophia was determined to obey convention. However, she first had to convince the d.a.m.nable pirate captain it was in both their interests to be cordial and silent about the past. She couldn't risk another disastrous quarrel with the man, especially during the country house party. He might ruin her courts.h.i.+p with the earl...which might very wel be the black devil's insidious plan.

She moved through the darkness, a small wooden box tucked under her arm. She eventually made her way to the address she had acquired through a few casual inquiries.

She descended the steps at the front of the prestigious townhouse, leading to the service entrance. She intended to slip in through the lower level, undetected. The staff was surely asleep at such a late hour.

She crouched and set the box on the ground before she removed the small blade from between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. She squinted to better examine the lock. It was difficult to see in the dimness. The moon offered little guidance to an intruder in a sooty city like London.

Drawing on her late father's tutelage, she set to work on the door. All the while she mul ed over the thought: Was her plan sound?

She had considered penning James a note, but she had quickly dismissed the idea. What if he didn't burn the letter after reading it? The incriminating missive might surface and ruin her. No. She needed to speak with him privately, to get him to agree to the truce in the only way she knew how...either that or she would have to slice out his tongue to keep him quiet.

She maneuvered the blade, blindly seeking the precise mechanism...when an iron key slipped between her eyes.

"Here," said the shadow in a low and teasing drawl. "Try this."

Sophia bristled. The blood in her veins quickened, the pulses in her head throbbed. She was parched, her tongue and lips like harvest oats.

Slowly she lifted off her haunches-and cradled the blade in her grip. She was prepared to strike at the figure to protect her ident.i.ty. However, the flirty sound of his voice was faintly familiar, and she peeked at him instead.

"Quincy?"

She detected the white line of teeth as he grinned. "Hullo, Sophia."

The stiff muscles in her back eased, and she sighed. Quincy might be a pirate; he might share the same blood as his disreputable older brother, but he was no snitch. She suspected the young man would keep the secret of her midnight rendezvous from the rest of the ton.

As the pressure in her skul returned to a more steady beat, she tucked the short blade back into her bodice. "I'm here to see the captain."

"Are you sure?" The cheeky kid's grin broadened. "I'm much more charming than my older brother."

She was in no mood to banter with the scamp. But he had an easy manner about him that put her nerves to rest. She noticed he had blossomed into quite a presentable rogue.

It was too dark to see his features, but he was tall and strapping, with fas.h.i.+onable short, wavy locks. He had always possessed an attractive charm. And with even more maturity, he was bound to become a distinguished rake...but right now he was still a pup.

Unlike James.

She dismissed the unwelcome thought with a quiet shudder, and stepped aside to allow Quincy to open the door. She sniffed the air as he moved beside her, the distinct fumes recognizable. He was doused in the smoke.

"Why are you sneaking into the house through the service entranceway?" she wondered.

He unlocked the door. "I could ask you the same question."

"I want to avoid detection."

"I want to avoid my older brother."

Quincy stepped into the dark room first. She scooped up the small wooden box before she followed him inside the kitchen. Once more she squinted in the dimness as he closed the door behind her.

"What do you mean you want to avoid your brother?" She lowered her hood. "Don't tel me the captain is so boorish he'd deny you a bit of fun?"

He chuckled softly. "James can be in a sour mood sometimes. I prefer to keep away from him."

She understood the sentiment entirely. "He's a brute, I know."

"A miserable brute."

She gathered her brow. "How's that?"

"James hates to be in society. I think it comforts him to make the rest of us miserable, too."

Her heart trembled. She suspected James wanted to make her miserable: a punishment for deserting him. At the troubling thought, she squeezed the box tight. It offered her redemption.

Sophia sensed the pup's eyes on her, pert and mischievous. She put a quick end to his ogling with a curt "Take me to your brother, Quincy."

He sighed. "This way."

He took her by the wrist and maneuvered her through the room and around the furnis.h.i.+ngs with ease. He didn't even need a candle. Clearly he had sneaked inside the house many times before and was now familiar with the design of the s.p.a.ce.

As she trailed after the scamp toward the ground floor, she glanced around the slowly brightening pa.s.sageway. The main part of the house was quiet, but candles still dotted the walls and tables, casting the dwelling in a smoldering glow.

The decor was deeply masculine. The wood furnis.h.i.+ngs were dark, the color palette was rich with shades of red and brown and touches of gold. She lifted a brow at the risque paintings, the nude subject matters tasteful yet still shocking to a respectable lady's const.i.tution. Lady Lucas would faint dead away.

Quincy escorted her to a waiting room. "Stay here. I'll go and fetch James."

"Thank you."

He winked. "Make yourself at home."

As soon as he had left the room, Sophia glanced around the formal parlor and spotted the model schooner perched on a long table. She approached the wel -crafted structure and examined the fine detail. It was an exact replica of the Bonny Meg. She peered into one of the tiny windows astern-the captain's quarters.

Images quickly filled her mind: erotic memories of her nights aboard the moored s.h.i.+p with the black devil. She wil ed the dreams away and gathered her wits. She had more important matters to attend to, like keeping James from revealing their past.

She paced the room as the minutes ticked onward, her belly twisted in knots. There wasn't time to waste, she thought. She still had to return to Lady Lucas.

So where was Black Hawk?

He was wittingly making her wait. She understood the bounder's character well enough to suspect he enjoyed being in control of the situation. Well, she wasn't going to spend the entire night circling the waiting room. She had to see the pirate captain. She had to settle the matter of their truce before the house party.

Sophia left the room and explored the pa.s.sageway. She searched the main floor for the sound of the man's voice, but the air was still...leaving her with only one other choice.

She didn't want to do it; it might put her at a greater disadvantage. But she couldn't shout the devil's name and demand an audience with him. She didn't want to rouse the servants or the rest of the Hawkins brothers. And yet she couldn't dawdle anymore, either. She had to return to Lady Lucas before sunrise.

With determination, Sophia lifted the hem of her skirt and mounted the st.u.r.dy steps at the end of the corridor.

Quietly she ascended to the next level. Her pulse tapped briskly in her ears as she stealthily made her way through the long pa.s.sageway, searching for James's room. She didn't know which door belonged to the pirate captain, though.

She could just hear Lady Lucas exclaim in horror: You're ruined! She was ruined if she didn't convince James to keep her secret. With the alarming thought in mind, she was prepared to open random doors in her desperate search. However, a set of ornate pocket doors snagged her attention.

The st.u.r.dy panels carved with intricate jungle motifs confirmed she had found the captain's room at last. She skirted to the end of the corridor, convinced she had located the right room, for the doors were the most prestigious of the lot. She suspected only the high-ranking captain would get such a glorious bedchamber.

She stopped in front of the imposing doors. Her pulse rapped quickly. She steadied her breath and composed her features. He would not be pleased to see her in his bedroom uninvited. But she wasn't going to let the scoundrel rule her senses anymore. It was intolerable to think he might reveal her true ident.i.ty, her sordid past. She couldn't stomach the twisting dread that he might oust her from polite society with one wicked word.

Sophia reached for the door latch, her hand shaky. She girded herself for a heated confrontation. She was disappointed to find the room empty.

Where was the devil?

She stepped inside the apartment. There were lit candles in the room. She examined her surroundings. Perhaps she was in the wrong s.p.a.ce, after all?

But one look at the ma.s.sive bed-and stylish, six-foot-high headboard-and she suspected she had the right room.

Softly she approached the bed. A disturbing longing gripped her heart at the sight of the rumpled bedsheets: an improper desire to tousle the linens even more, soak them with sweat.

She arched her spine, pressed her lips to one of the pillows-and breathed deep.

She closed her eyes. She was in James's room, she was sure.

She rebuked herself for being so foolish, for feeling such trite emotions. Let the memory of his heady scent burn and rot-alongside him.

Sophia heard a soft rustle. She looked across the room and spotted the gla.s.s case. In the shadows she detected the slight movement, but otherwise failed to identify the creature.

In faint steps she advanced, and peered into the gla.s.s.

"I see you've met Sophia."

She gasped quietly. She searched for him in the room with her eyes, but he was elusive.

She then sensed his stare coming from the adjoining dressing room.

He was in shadow, but his figure was still easy to make out, so tal and robust.

Her heart beat swiftly. She had to curl her fingers more tightly around the box to prevent the rogue from seeing them tremble.

Slowly he approached her.