Perhaps it was better this way.
He refilled his glass, frowning as he realized how little he could tell Daphne of what was transpiring inside him. He refused to amend his decision to protect her from the criminal portion of his life. And yet, selfishly, he wanted her still, if only to wrap herself around him, whisper that she loved him.
Dawn’s first rosy glow embraced the horizon, and Pierce massaged his aching temples, finalizing his strategy. He would send a missive to Hollingsby, arranging a meeting for tomorrow between the two of them and the barrister Hollingsby had selected to handle the marchioness’s impending divorce. That would serve as an excuse to go to London. If he committed the burglary tonight, then rode directly to Town, he could stop at Thompson’s store and the Faithful Heart workhouse in London’s East End, all before dawn.
In which case, he had only today.
Today to advise Daphne of his trip and to get enough rest so his senses would be whip-taut when he broke into that arrogant son of a bitch Benchley’s impenetrable estate.
Wearily, Pierce climbed the stairs to bed.
His room was still dark, only a trickle of light finding its way beneath the closed curtains. He tossed his robe aside and turned to climb into bed.
Daphne.
His beautiful wife lay on the rumpled sheets, her pristine nightgown covering her from neck to toe, her hair a tawny waterfall upon his pillow. Evidently when she’d finished settling Sarah in her new chamber, she’d come to his room rather than her own.
Strangely touched, Pierce smiled at the exquisite vision she made, filled with a fierce sense of pride that she belonged to him.
“Snow flame?” He slid in beside her, gathering her soft, warm body in his arms.
“Pierce?” She sounded sleepy, disoriented, and more erotic than he could bear.
“I’m here.” He shrugged her out of her nightgown, smoothing his hands over the satin of her skin.
“We have to talk.”
“Later.” He covered her mouth with his. “We’ll discuss our new employee later.”
“Not Sarah,” Daphne protested, pushing at his shoulders with insistent hands. “About—”
“Later,” Pierce whispered fervently, moving against his wife until her nipples hardened against his chest.
“Pierce.” Briefly, Daphne shook her head, fighting the sensual spell he was purposely weaving about her senses.
“Feel like heaven,” he finished for her, his lips burning a path to her breasts. “Taste like heaven,” he added huskily, drawing one sensitized peak into his mouth.
Daphne relented in a rush, twining her arms about Pierce’s neck and murmuring his name in that hushed, seductive way that made his blood heat and his body harden.
“I need you, Snow flame. I need you so bloody much.” Pierce’s hands shook as he parted her legs, absorbing the tiny quivers of her inner thighs with his fingertips. “Tell me you love me.”
“I love you, Pierce,” she said in a breathy whisper.
“Keep saying it.” He entered her with his fingers, reveling in her wetness, intensifying it with each fiery caress.
“I love you.” She arched against his palm, her hips rising and falling in silent invitation.
“Now say it as I go into you.” He moved up and over her, his expression as harsh as his command. “Please, Snow flame, I need to know.”
Daphne pressed her fingers to his lips to silence him. Slowly, she slid her hand down the length of his body until it closed around his rigid shaft. “I love you, Pierce,” she breathed reverently, lifting her flushed face to meet his gaze, staring deep into his eyes as she guided him into her. “Forever and always, I love you.”
He climaxed instantly. Her words, the look on her face, the hot, tight feel of her were more than he could bear. Helplessly, he poured himself into her, shuddering with each pulsing surge of his release.
Something inside him refused to touch heaven alone, desperately wanted Daphne with him. Slipping his hand between their bodies, he found her, stroked the velvety flesh that cried out for his touch, responded instantly to it.
Daphne unraveled at once, sobbing Pierce’s name as she dissolved into hard, gripping spasms, clutching him inside and out as if to never let him go.
Pierce never intended to go. “I love you,” he rasped, dragging great gulps of air into his lungs. “Christ, how I love you.”
He closed his eyes, the reality of his feelings for Daphne prompting talons of doubt to claw at his gut.
Should he tell her the truth?
There had always been honesty between them. Did he owe if to her to tell her the truth? Or was it his responsibility to protect her from it?
And most of all, did he owe it to her—to them—to abandon the bandit’s cause, children or not?
His hands balled into fists, digging deep into the pillow. For a man who always knew just what to do, he was totally at sea. What the hell was his answer?
Daphne’s even breathing told Pierce she’d fallen asleep. He leaned up on his elbows, brushing strands of hair from her face and kissing her lightly before he eased himself from her breathtaking warmth.
He jerked on his robe, prowling the room like a caged tiger seeking escape, knowing all the while this was one impasse that was truly insurmountable.
Crossing over to his nightstand, Pierce slid open the drawer, automatically reaching for the emerald he’d placed there earlier, as if by holding the gem he could find the answers he sought.
It was gone.
For a full minute Pierce stared blankly at the empty niche where the stone had been. Then he acted, yanking out the contents of the drawer one by one, tossing them haphazardly about the room as he groped in every emptied space, every vacant corner. Nothing.
Frantically, he searched his mind for an explanation.
“It’s with your cravats.”
Pierce pivoted about, staring at his wife.
Daphne sat up, pointing helpfully at Pierce’s double chest of drawers. “In there. Oh, I realized your hiding place was only temporary. Still, I remember how easily you found my smelling salts and my journal. The nightstand drawer is far too risky, even for a few hours. So I moved the emerald. You needn’t panic. It’s quite safe.”
“You—” Pierce’s mouth opened and closed several times. “How did you find it?” he asked inanely.
“I was on my way in to speak with you. I saw you place the jewel in the nightstand, then go downstairs to brood. I knew I had plenty of time to find a more suitable hiding spot, since I fully intended to wait here for you, even if it took all night.” She sighed. “Heaven knows, I’ve waited too long already; borne your suffering as long as I could. Evidently, you were never going to come to me. My only choice, therefore, was to go to you.”
In stunned silence, Pierce crossed the room to his double chest, yanking open the drawer that housed his cravats.
“Beneath the folded pile in the back,” Daphne instructed.
An instant later his hand emerged, clasping the Selbert emerald.
He turned the brilliant gem over and over in his palms, watching its facets shoot prisms of light through the semi-darkened room.
“You’ve known?”
“Yes.”
“How long?” he asked, his tone deadly quiet. “Damn it. How long have you known?”
“Since the night you robbed Tragmore.”
“Since the—” He turned, his expression utterly incredulous. “I was dressed completely in black, from my boots to my hood, with a mask that covered my entire face. I even disguised my voice.”
Daphne smiled. “No one else moves like you, Pierce. You’re a panther, carefully restrained yet ready to strike; agile, dangerous, exhilaratingly charismatic. You affect me as no other man ever has or ever will. And your eyes—not only the unique green hue, but their intensity, even when lit by a single taper. ’Tis you who claim my instincts are flawless. How could you imagine I wouldn’t know you?”
He shook his head in amaz
ement. “And all this time—When I found that journal, vented my jealousy like a madman, you said nothing, let me go on and on.”
“I was waiting for you to tell me.” Daphne propped her chin on her knees, inclining her head quizzically. “When did you finally intend to do that?”
Pierce’s fingers clutched the emerald so tightly his knuckles turned white. “Today. Tonight. Never. I don’t know.” He strode over to the bed, sitting down beside her.
“In light of the numerous opportunities I’ve given you, the answer is clearly never.” Daphne drew a shaky breath, a pained look crossing her face. “Why, Pierce? Why would you choose not to tell me? You love me. Despite your past, I believed you trusted me as well.”
“I do trust you.” Pierce caught her chin, lifted it to meet his gaze. “Have you any idea how much I wanted to share this with you?”
“Then why didn’t you?”
“Daphne, what I do is illegal. I could hang for it and so could you, if the authorities ever suspected you aid me in any way.” His thumb stroked her lips. “I swore to keep you safe. I intend to keep that vow.”
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“I want you safe as well.” Daphne leaned forward, her expression earnest as she gripped Pierce’s shoulders. “I love you. The thought of losing you—” Her lips trembled. “I couldn’t bear it.”
“Precisely my dilemma.” A muscle worked in his jaw. “Until you, Snow flame, I had nothing to lose, nothing to live for. Now I have both. But the children. You told me yourself I was their hero. Who else do they have? Who else can they believe in?”
“There are other ways.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” Pierce came to his feet, raking his fingers through his hair. “And I’d almost reconciled myself to helping solely through those other ways.”
“Almost,” Daphne repeated woodenly. “Until Viscount Benchley’s offensive behavior altered your decision.”
Their gazes locked.
“Yes. Until Benchley spoke of the poor as if they were dirt.”
“Was it that? Or was it the challenge he inadvertently issued by boasting his manor was impenetrable.”
Pierce didn’t look away. “You know me well.”
“Extraordinarily well. So which was the deciding factor, the cruelty or the pomposity?”
“The combination.”
Daphne swallowed, fear and resignation shadowing her eyes. “When?” she whispered. “When do you plan to invade Benchley?”
“Tonight.”
“Tonight? But there is a houseful of guests who have yet to depart from the Christmas party.”
“True. Which only serves to heighten the challenge.” Pierce ached at the broken look on Daphne’s face. “Snow flame, I don’t expect you to understand.”
“Then make me understand.”
Pierce started. “How?”
“I care about those children as much as you do.” Daphne raised her chin a notch. “And I loathe everything my father and Lord Benchley represent, just as you do. So I understand your anger, as well as your compassion. What I don’t understand is your excitement; the way you thrill to the challenge.”
“That’s not something I can explain.”
“Not in words, but in actions.”
“Meaning?”
“Take me with you.”
“What?”
A spark kindled Daphne’s eyes. “Take me to Benchley. Let me be the Tin Cup Bandit’s accomplice.”
19
“HAVE YOU LOST YOUR mind?” Pierce raged.
“Not at all. You’ve enumerated your reasons. Now let me witness them firsthand.”
“Daphne.” He strove for a filament of control. “You’re not thinking clearly. This is not some romp through the woods. Nor is it like the glorified tributes you collect from the Times. It’s—”
“Cunning, skill, and instinct,” Daphne finished for him. “Both cunning and skill I’ve learned from you. As for instinct, you yourself have repeatedly hailed mine as incomparable.” She shot him a quick, mischievous grin, her cheeks tinged with excitement. “You’ve also heralded me as having magnificent, though hidden, spirit, fire, and passion. Clearly, that is the case, although I believe those traits have come out of hiding these past weeks.”
Pierce sucked in his breath and stared, for the first time seeing the total transformation their marriage had effected on his wife. He’d been so engrossed in his own metamorphosis that he’d failed to realize the full extent of Daphne’s.
Somewhere during the past six weeks, his delicate little caterpillar had become a butterfly.
“Pierce?” Daphne rose and went to him, oblivious to her nakedness. “I know I can do this. I want to do this. Let me.”
Warring emotions tore at Pierce’s heart, stunning him by their very existence. The reluctance, the protectiveness were the familiar sentiments, the ones that had spawned his decision to keep Daphne from the truth. But the equally powerful unfamiliar longings? The stirring excitement evoked by envisioning Daphne by his side, the compelling need to share with her the exhilaration of the robbery and its inspiring results—those he’d never anticipated feeling.
But feel them he did.
Instantly, Daphne sensed his indecision. “I’ll wear my deep purple gown. The color is so dark it will be indiscernible by night. I’ll hide my hair, pull a hooded mask over my head. Only my slight build will enable people to tell us apart.”
Her final claim made Pierce chuckle, his gaze raking her very feminine, very naked curves. “You won’t win on that argument, sweetheart. I assure you, people would have no trouble differentiating us.”
Daphne flushed. “I’ll be clothed. And I’ll wear a full, black cape. Besides, you’ll be less conspicuous with me along. If need be we can remove our masks and appear to be merely two of Benchley’s house guests.”
A glint of intrigued awareness flared in Pierce’s eyes, then dissipated along with his smile. “Snow flame.” He gathered her close in his arms. “Have you any idea how precious you are to me?”
“Then do this for me,” she urged softly, pressing her lips to his chest. “Take me with you. Let me feel what you do when you best a callous scoundrel like Benchley. Share your joy when workhouse children reap the benefits of your skill. Pierce,” she raised her head, gazed up at him, “please.”
“I must be insane,” he muttered, gathering handfuls of her hair.
Triumph glowed in Daphne’s eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“Now remember. Once we leave the carriage in that grove of trees outside the gates—”
“I remember,” Daphne interrupted, gripping her mask in her lap as the horses commenced their final mile to Benchley. With a shiver of excitement, she wrapped her cape more tightly about her. “We go by foot. We don’t speak a word. You have the tools and the pistol concealed in your pocket, and the pouch tucked inside the lining of your coat. We make our way around back, far from the sleeping quarters of the family, guests, and servants. You select the proper window—most likely at the rear of the conservatory—then cut your way inside. After which, you’ll pull me through. We remove our shoes and leave them there. We move from the conservatory directly to the pantry, then to the library and the study. Last, we climb the stairs to the bedchambers.”
“Not we,” Pierce amended her final point, his jaw set. “I. Don’t argue with me, Daphne,” he cut her off swiftly. “Just reaching the manor itself will be challenge enough, given the skill of the guards Benchley boasted of. The house is filled with sleeping people. The slightest noise could waken them. We’ll do the lower floor together. Then you’ll stand guard while I relieve the viscountess of her jewel case and leave the emerald on Benchley’s pillow.”
“What about the guest quarters? Judging from the array of bracelets and necklaces I saw at the ball, the ladies’ jewel cases must be brimming.”
A corner of Pierce’s mouth lifted. “Daring, aren’t you? I fear I’ve created a
monster. Very well, Snow flame. If we accomplish all we’ve discussed without incident, we’ll visit the guest wing. You’ll remain at the head of the hall while I appropriate whatever trinkets I can.”
“Excellent.”
“And to think I worried that you cared for the bandit. In truth, you were living vicariously through him.”
“Both,” Daphne clarified, caressing Pierce’s arm. “I was and I do.” An impish grin. “You’re very potent in black.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Sobering, Pierce transferred the reins to one hand, wrapped the other arm about Daphne’s waist. “Do everything precisely as I do. Follow my lead, just in case any details of our plan need to be suddenly altered. And Snow flame, most of all, be careful. Exciting or not, this is no game. It’s very real. And very dangerous.”
“I realize that. I won’t disappoint you. Heaven knows, you’ve never disappointed me.” Her own words sparked a thought. “Speaking of which, though this is hardly the time, I want to thank you for taking Sarah in. It meant a great deal to me.”
“I could see that.” Pierce cast a brief sidelong glance at his wife. “I have the feeling your commitment to Sarah involves more than just sympathy for her plight.”
“It does. It will for you as well.” Daphne studied her husband’s hard profile. “Sarah and I have met before. I didn’t realize it at first, not until I burst into her chamber.” Seeing Pierce’s brows draw in question, she explained. “When I left you at the ball, I stumbled upon an ugly scene between Sarah and Lady Benchley, a scene that resulted in Sarah’s dismissal. My heart went out to her.”
“So you followed her to offer comfort,” Pierce supplied tenderly.
“Yes. Then when I saw her at close range—those eyes—” Daphne swallowed. “Pierce, she was the girl I described to you, the one I saw clutching the tattered doll when I was eight and my father dragged me to the workhouse.”
Pierce’s head jerked around, brittle realization erupting in his mind. “You’re telling me Sarah grew up in the House of Perpetual Hope?”
“Yes. Her mother abandoned her there, then took her own life. Sarah has never had anyone to rely upon. This was my chance. Yours and my chance.”