“Merde!” she snapped, her voice echoing down the lane.
Just as soon as her anger had come, it was gone. A slow smile spread across her lips. He thought he’d gotten the upper hand. But he hadn’t a clue what she was truly capable of.
She’d find him again, she had no doubt. And when she did, the bastard would pay.
Chapter 2
James whistled a jaunty tune as he made his way down the hotel corridor to the room he’d rented for the night. To the world he was a man at ease. But he was far from calm. He knew there were two exits… a door behind him and a window to his left. He could hear the man coming around the corner even before the man appeared.
Not that he had the gift of sight, merely the gift of years of experience. Experience watching his own back. Trusting no one. As the fellow guest came around the corner, James nodded a greeting, shifting the knapsack from his left shoulder, to his right, further away from the man.
The bag was heavy, the statue heavier than he’d thought. A priceless, yet ridiculous piece of religious art. He’d heard the rumors, knew the statue had supposed powers and there were those who would kill for it. Asinine, really. It looked like a plain gold statue to him. The type he’d seen before. But if Lord Emery wanted to pay him thousands for it, he’d oblige. In his opinion an object that old was owned by no one, fair game. He’d made his fortune finding forgotten treasure. And he always found what he was looking for.
Yet, even as he scoffed at those who called him a thief, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt. He’d never stolen from a woman. She’d been as surprised as he’d been. And when he’d pressed her to that door, he’d been even more surprised to feel his body react to her lush curves, that long, rich hair, that heart-shaped face and those heavenly blue eyes. So surprised, he couldn’t resist pressing his mouth to hers in a quick kiss. She’d tasted of scones…delicate and buttery and warm.
He quickly brushed the woman from his mind. She was of no importance. He slipped the skeleton key into the lock. The soft murmur of conversation and rumbled laughter floated from the rooms on either side of him. The door opened under his touch, his room was clean, plush and large. Only the finest. He expected nothing less. After years of living in squalor, he would accept nothing but the best. And why not? He could bloody afford it.
He closed the door with his heel and settled the statue on a chair before moving to the hearth. The air was chill, winter coming soon. God willing he’d be on a ship back home to England before the weather turned. He didn’t care much for France. The people were too… French. He knelt and began to stir the dying embers when the ever so subtle rising of the fine hairs on the back of his neck gave him pause. Someone was in the room.
He didn’t turn, but continued to stoke the fire until the flames licked high and gave warmth to the cold room. Standing, he pulled the knife from his boot, tucking the handle into his shirt sleeve. He wasn’t afraid, more curious to know the identity of the invader. With practiced movements, he turned toward the bed and yawned, as if he was merely a gent in need of sleep. Inside, his body and mind were preparing for battle.
From the corner of his eye he noticed the shadow. The intruder sat on the far side of the room, not moving, yet not doing much to hide. Odd indeed. Whistling, James made his way to his bed and fluffed the pillow, searching for the pistol underneath. Nothing.
Damn. Had the weapon fallen to the ground? It was the very reason he never allowed servants in his room. Fortunately he was adapt at changing plans, one needed to be in his line of work. His clothes lay scattered upon the bed. He reached out as if to smooth the blanket back, but instead wrapped his fingers around the tie he’d worn yesterday. Casually, he slipped the strip of material into his pocket.
“You won’t find the pistol,” a soft feminine voice called from the darkness.
Surprise flashed through him. The woman he’d stolen the statue from. He’d recognize that husky voice anywhere. Damn. How’d she find him? He always made sure to cover his tracks. Surprise gave way to annoyance and something else…. Something that felt oddly like excitement. He didn’t panic. He never panicked. Instead, he faced her fully, no more pretense, and crossed his arms over his chest, hiding the dagger.
“You don’t give up easily,” he said as he leaned against the bed post like a man at ease.
“Is that a compliment or criticism?”
Her voice had the soft and husky lilt of a French accent. It swirled through his body, warming his insides. Already she was taunting him, damn it all, if he didn’t like it. “A compliment, of course.”
“Lovely,” she said. Slowly, with ease, she stood, tilting her head slightly back as if to get a better look at him. She was small, coming to rest under his chin. But those curves, damn it all, those curves could make a lesser man faint with lust. Slowly, she raised her arm, pointing his pistol at his chest. “You might as well hand it over now. I will get my statue back.”
“Yours? I thought it was the world’s statue.”
With a quick sweep of his hand, he knocked the gun from her fingers. The woman gasped in outrage and James grinned, scooping up the weapon. She was a novice, at weaponry, at least. He paced toward the bed where a lamp rested on a small side table and set the gun down. “Haven’t you heard the stories? A piece created by the heavens of such power that humans will destroy each other in hopes of finding it.” He lit the lamp, then turned to face her. Lord, she was even more beautiful than he’d realized.
“Mythology.” She laughed, a husky chuckle. “Nonsense. The only person who will be destroyed is you, if you don’t give me back my statue.”
“And who will destroy me? You?” He raised a brow and rubbed the stubble on his chin in a thoughtful manner. “Perhaps. But you can’t doubt the statue is important if you would follow a man and risk your life to get it back.”
She tossed her long black braid over her shoulder and sashayed toward him, the gentle sway of her hips intoxicating. “Surely you don’t believe the stories. Four statues with extreme power. So powerful that when they’re brought together, the owners may control the very world.” She laughed, that rich chuckle vibrating through his very soul.
James clenched his jaw. He wasn’t sure whether he should be lusting after the woman or annoyed with her. “Whether I believe it or not, others do. Merely by having the statue in your possession, you risk your life.”
He was a hardened thief, for God’s sake. He’d seen women more beautiful, but he sure as hell hadn’t seen them more sensual. She paused only a breath away, the scent of flowers and soap swirling around him. She lowered her thick, dark lashes and settled her hand on his chest. He couldn’t take much more. He hadn’t had a woman in weeks, and she would certainly do well enough.
She grinned, a wicked grin and trailed her fingers down his bicep as if sensing the way of his thoughts. “Did you enjoy kissing me, mon Amour? Did you enjoy the taste of my mouth?” She stepped closer, inching her fingers up his arm and around his neck. “Did you enjoy the feel of my body against yours?” She leaned close. He dropped his arms to his side, letting her press her soft breasts to his chest. Hell, he soaked in her warmth, the feel of her lush body. She was small, but she had curves to kill for. And when she stood on tiptoe, he let her. Oh, he wouldn’t urge her onward, but he’d allow her to play her little games.
“You’re worried about me?” Those full, red lips hovered near his, her breath warm on his mouth. “Do you think of that kiss now?”
He didn’t respond, but his body did, hardening, flaring with a heat that tormented him. She lowered her lashes and leaned forward, sinking into him. Those soft lips molded to his. Blood surged to his cock.
He was gone.
James wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her. In two steps he was at the bed. She gasped as he tossed her to the mattress, as if she didn’t know this would happen. When he followed, sinking into her lush body, she didn’t even have time to protest. His lips locked to hers. She was soft, so damn soft. He t
hought only to frighten her, yet when he rested his thumb on her chin and applied enough pressure that she parted her lips, he lost control. He slid his tongue into her warm mouth, deepening the kiss. His cock swelled.
He gave her no time to protest, no time to think about the ramifications of her actions. James nudged his knee between her thighs, parting her legs easily. Instead of slapping him as she ought to, the minx moaned wrapping her arms around his neck. How often did she break into rooms and offer her wares for a bit of treasure?
He pushed aside the thought, his hands moving around her hips and cupping her bottom, bringing her up hard against his arousal. James could take no more teasing. He’d have her begging for his touch.
“You smell lovely,” he said, tearing his mouth from hers and nuzzling her neck. “What is your name?”
“Adel…” His mouth moved down the elegant column of her neck and her breath quickened. “Adelaide.”
His fingers moved down her shirt, undoing the buttons and parting the material. Her lovely breasts were pushed high from her corset.
“Beautiful,” he repeated, pressing a kiss to the top of each mound.
She shuddered, her fingers slipping into his hair and tugging restlessly at the strands. James pulled the corset low enough that a nipple sprung forward, pebbled and dusty pink. With a grown, he lowered his head, taking the hardened bud between his lips. Adelaide cried out, arching her back.
As his mouth worked her nipple, his left hand slid down her body, flipping open the button on her trousers. When his finger slipped inside her breeches, finding the soft curls, she didn’t fight him. No, she shifted, restless, almost agitated.
“Will you come for me, my little thief?” he murmured, leaving her breast and pressing his mouth to hers once more.
His fingers slipped between her wet folds, finding the opening of her sheath. His finger dipped into her heat. Hell, she was tight. Adelaide groaned, rocking her hips against him like she knew exactly what to do, exactly what she wanted. Heated lust roared through his veins, demanded he take her.
He’d never lost such control. Never felt as if he’d die if he didn’t have her. Finding the waistband of her trousers, he yanked the material down to her knees. She sucked in a sharp gasp of surprise, but he didn’t give her time to recant. James settled himself between those silky thighs, his erection pressing to the entrance of her sheath. His body strained with desire, heated blood pounding through his veins.
“Now, my sweet, you’ll see what happens to beautiful women who tease.”
“Yes,” she whispered in that husky voice. “Please.”
He lifted his hips just enough, then thrust inside her. “Oh dear God,” he whispered, resting his forehead to hers. She was tight. So damn tight.
Adelaide whimpered and for a brief moment, concern overrode his desire. Then she arched her back, taking him deeper and all concern vanished. Lord, she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
James lifted his hips and rocked into her, thrusting into her tight sheath over and over again. “Yes, perfect, wrap your legs around me,” he whispered as she ran her feet over his calves.
Her head fell back, her eyes squeezed shut as a moan escaped those perfect lips. “Please,” she whimpered.
When he felt her body tighten, he lost what little control he had left. James cried out just as Adelaide shuddered, whimpering her release. Completely spent, he collapsed atop the woman, sinking into her soft curves. Her harsh breathing whispered across his shoulder. Dear God, he felt devoid of feeling, floating in a cloud of pure pleasure. She moved ever so slightly and rippling desire shook his body. So much for being in charge.
With a groan, he shifted and pulled up her trousers, buttoning the breeches together. Although his body was almost gone, his mind remained in charge…barely. James pressed his mouth to hers, drawing her into a devastating kiss as he grabbed her wrists and shoved them over her head. She squirmed against him, but he held her arms tightly behind her. Throaty whimpers escaped her lips, whimpers that made his entire body thrum with a need he could barely ignore. She arched her back pressing her pelvis to his. His erection grew thick and hard once more, pressing painfully to his trousers.
James was practically lost. He was supposed to be in control here. Instead, she was quickly taking over his body…his bloody soul. She groaned against his mouth. It was with a murky head and protesting cock that he was able to take the tie from his pocket and wrap it around her wrists, binding her arms together. He pushed away and stumbled from the bed, his breathing harsh. His trousers hung low on his hips, his shirt damp with his sweat.
The lust fled and her face became furious as she struggled with her bindings. “You bastard!”
He grinned. “No, quite legal, I assure you.”
“I will find you,” she seethed, her face flushed as she scurried from the bed. “I will always find you. You cannot hide from me. There is nowhere you can go where I would not hunt you down. I will get what I want.”
The words were ridiculous, yet for some crazed moment he actually believed her. “Is that so?” He couldn’t say she frightened him, but she definitely intrigued him.
She growled low in her throat, almost like a cat hissing. Dark strands of hair had come loose around her heart shaped face. Her eyes flashed under thick lashes. Lord, she was beautiful.
A sudden pounding on the door startled both of them.
“Monsieur? Are you well? We heard a loud noise.”
James tugged at his breeches, pulling them to his waist. It was then that he noticed the blood. He froze, his heart pounding. Virgin’s blood?
“Monsieur?”
James parted his lips to respond and at the same time reached for Adelaide, intending to slap his hand over her mouth. Instead, she got to him first. He saw her leg coming, but too late. Her knee hit his groin.
The pain wasn’t immediate, no, it took a moment, but when it came… Shite! James sucked in a breath and crumbled to the floor.
Vaguely, he was aware of Adelaide stumbling to the windows, her hands still tied behind her back.
“Don’t!” he managed to get out between clenched teeth. She couldn’t possibly be thinking to jump. She wasn’t that insane… was she?
She lifted her foot, stepped onto the window ledge.
“Adelaide! Don’t!” Panic flared through him as the image of her perfect body crumbled on the stone lane flashed to mind.
“Bloody hell.” He stumbled to his feet, ignoring the aching pain in his gut and groin, and raced toward her.
Adelaide jumped.
“No!” James screamed.
He fell against the window ledge and looked below. The ground was empty. Thank God. The scuffle of feet over tile had him jerking his head left. There, just below, was a small roof atop a cottage. She skidded and slid across the tile, a small shadow in the night. As if sensing him, for one brief moment, she paused. James held his breath. Adelaide glanced back.
Something shifted between them, something in the very air. An understanding of more to come.
“I will find you,” her voice whispered through his head. “I will always find you. You cannot hide from me. There is nowhere you can go where I would not hunt you down. I will get what I want.”
Reaching the end of the roof, Adelaide jumped into the darkness.
Through the wave of pain still weaving its way through his body, James chuckled. She was gone, but he knew he’d see her again. Hell, he actually looked forward to it.
Chapter 3
When she was two and ten Adelaide had been taken to the closest dress maker where her mother had traded in her best silk gown in order for Adelaide to have the newest fashion. It was a dress Adelaide had worn for a year, before she had outgrown it. A silly waste of money, in her opinion, but Maman had wanted Adelaide to know the life she had once known. After that year, reduced funds and an active lifestyle had sent Adelaide toward more manly clothing. After all, it was easier to climb into caves and race down cobbled lanes at night when
wearing men’s trousers.
But not tonight. No, tonight she found herself wearing a fine dress once more and feeling very much like she had at twelve… odd. Still, she must dress like a lady in order to sneak into Lord Emery’s bash. And so she’d slipped through the kitchens wearing one of her mother’s old gowns. Dresses that had at one time been lovely, but were now mere reflections of where her mother came from… a wealthy family who had disowned their daughter when she’d gotten with child. Dresses they should have sold long ago, and would have to if she didn’t reclaim her statue.
It wasn’t often that she felt like a woman, a real woman. And as much as she would have liked to enjoy the fact that she wore a gown so fine it felt like warm butter, she couldn’t. No. Because the gown wasn’t truly hers and it was so old that someone would surely, eventually, notice. The hem was slightly too short, the bodice slightly too tight and she would never, ever wear mauve. Yes, her mother had been and still was tiny, but it was the only gown she’d found that would button.
And this life… this life of wealth and privilege was not truly hers. Still, she looked well enough to find the shadows and blend into the potted plants. As long as no woman realized how ancient her dress was, she should be able to slip in and out unnoticed. She’d seen this place last night in her visions, a ball where he would sell the statue. Her anger momentarily interrupted her nerves. If the man hadn’t been such a cur, she wouldn’t be in this mess.
Merde. For years she’d ignored the advances of men in her neighborhood, men who thought merely because she lacked money, she also lacked morals. In one night, in one silly moment, she’d lost her virginity. Not that she had dreams some Prince Charming was going to sweep her from poverty. Still, her virginity had been hers and she’d so easily given it away. What made it worse was the realization that she would most likely do it all over again.