Jacquie D’Alessandro - Touch Me

When they entered Genevieve’s bedchamber, Sophia lifted her head from the spot where she lay curled up on the counterpane. After offering a half-hearted yawn, she settled back down.

Standing in the doorway, Simon’s gaze drifted to the statue in the corner and a vivid image flashed through his mind of hiding behind the marble woman and watching Genevieve-a real woman who, in spite of all the reasons why she shouldn’t, had captured his imagination and ignited his fantasies.

He pulled his attention back to Genevieve, who was hurrying across the room to her dresser. Simon followed, watching as she yanked open the drawer where the puzzle box had been. She pawed through her lingerie which the intruder-and Simon-had already disturbed, then drew in a shuddering breath. She whispered something that sounded like bastard , but he couldn’t be certain.

“Something missing?” he asked.

She hesitated then said, “I…I’m just distressed that someone has been touching my things.” She looked through the remainder of the drawers, then slowly turned to face him. Her skin was pale and although she was clearly unsettled, she was also obviously angry.

“Well?” he asked, looking into her eyes, hoping she wouldn’t lie to him, but knowing she would.

Her gaze never wavered. “Nothing is missing.”

Disappointment rippled through him. She had no reason to trust him-indeed, she was wise not to, even though she didn’t know that. Still, he’d hoped she would confide in him. Pushing the unreasonable feeling away, he said, “If this was merely a robbery, the intruder would have taken your jewelry. He was looking for something specific. Do you have any idea what?”

Again she hesitated, and for a single heartbeat, he thought she might perhaps tell him. Then she shook her head. “No.” Then something that looked like satisfaction flickered in her eyes. “But whatever it was, he didn’t find it.”

“How do you know?”

She blinked, clearly nonplussed. Then she shrugged. “Because there was nothing to find.”

Hope flared in him. He didn’t doubt that she was telling the truth with that statement. The letter was still here. The intruder hadn’t found it because she’d removed it from the box. Which meant not only that Simon still had the chance to retrieve the letter, but also that the bastard who’d broken in tonight would most likely be back.

All the protective instincts that she’d aroused in him from his first look at her roared to life. She needed protection. And he would make certain she received it. At least until he had his letter.

You want a hell of a lot more from her than that letter and you damn well know it , his conscience whispered. Bloody annoying voice. He needed to teach it how to lie. Shouldn’t be difficult considering what an accomplished liar Simon was-a skill his years as a spy had honed to a razor-sharp edge. Yet, for reasons he refused to examine lying wasn’t sitting well with him at the moment. Which was ridiculous, especially since she’d lied to him.

Consigning his irritating thoughts to the devil, he said, “We can report the break-in to the magistrate tomorrow. In the meantime, you can’t stay here.”

She raised her brows. “Surely you don’t think whoever did this will be back?” Even as she said the words, he could see the realization dawning on her that it was, indeed, a very real possibility.

“I don’t think it can be ruled out. Which means that you-and Baxter and Sophia as well-are coming home with me.”

For several seconds she said nothing, just looked at him with an annoyingly inscrutable expression. Damn it, why couldn’t she be like the other women he knew-predictable and easy to read? She moistened her lips, a gesture that drew his gaze to her gorgeous mouth-a mouth he ached to taste again.

“That is very kind, but-”

He jerked his gaze back up to hers. “No buts. There is ample room for all of you in my cottage, and you’ll be safe there.” He would see to it. Because the thought of anything happening to her, of her being hurt the way Baxter had been, twisted his insides into knots. “Baxter isn’t fully recovered, and even if he were, based on the amount of whiskey he’s tossed back, he’s in no condition to properly protect you. He requires rest. And you…” Reaching out, he lightly grasped her shoulders. “You require someone to watch over you.”

She stilled beneath his hands. For an instant he believed she was going to pull away and he had to fight the urge to tighten his hold. But instead she raised her chin. “While I’m perfectly capable of, and accustomed to, taking care of myself, I cannot deny I am unnerved by what’s happened. Therefore I accept your offer, with my thanks.” She lifted a single brow. “I must say, for a steward, you’ve proven unusually capable in dealing with this matter.” Her gaze flicked to his boot. “And you’re surprisingly at ease handling that knife.”

He shrugged. “When you work for a wealthy man, you become adept at dispatching hooligans and footpads and the like.”

“I see. Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll change my clothes so we can depart. Would you mind sitting with Baxter while I do? I hate to think of him all alone.”

Simon nodded then released her. And was alarmed at how difficult it was to do so. He turned to go, but instead of leaving, he nodded toward the statue. “That’s a beautiful piece.” That I stood behind and fantasized about you.

“Thank you. It was a gift.”

“From your husband?”

“No. From myself. I saw her in a London shop years ago and had to have her. The beauty and simplicity in her lines, in her pose, captivated me. I couldn’t resist her.”

Simon pulled his gaze from the statue to look at her. I couldn’t resist her. “Yes. I understand completely. Baxter and I will await you in the sitting room.” With that, he turned and quickly quit the room, before he gave in to the temptation to yank her into his arms and put out the simmering fire that seemed to crackle beneath his skin.

He strode down the corridor and dragged his hands down his face. Bloody hell! As if the searing attraction he felt toward her wasn’t bad enough, this fierce protectiveness was utter insanity. And it could very well prove dangerous. She’d lied to him, most recently about the puzzle box. She knew the box had been stolen and she knew where the letter she’d removed from it was. His every instinct should be warning him away from her; instead a small voice in his head insisted there was some reasonable explanation. And that she wasn’t in any way involved in Ridgemoor’s death.

Damn it, and now she’d be staying in his temporary home. Close enough to touch. And, by God, he wanted to touch her, wanted her, with a raw ferocity he couldn’t recall ever before experiencing. Their interlude at the hot springs had only served to whet his appetite for her.

He’d offered her a choice. Only now did he realize that by doing so, he may have gained strides in earning her trust, a trust that could lead to her confiding to him the whereabouts of the letter. However, at the time he made the offer, he hadn’t been thinking of his mission. Not at all. No, all he’d thought of was her. What was best for her. How best not to hurt her or involve her in any scandal.

It was the first time he’d ever forgotten his mission. Ever allowed a woman to distract him from his purpose. And the first time since he was a green lad he had so completely lost control of himself and his passions.

Which meant that regardless of whether Genevieve Ralston was guilty of any wrongdoing, she was very dangerous indeed.

GENEVIEVE paced her bedchamber in Simon’s cottage. A low-burning fire in the hearth warmed the small but comfortable room, and the bed, with its forest-green counterpane and trio of pillows looked cozy and inviting. Baxter was settled in another bedchamber, asleep seconds after his head touched the pillow. Sophia, initially unhappy at the change of environment and completely disdainful of Beauty, now lay curled up in a drowsy ball on the hearthrug, allowing the fire’s warmth to worship her. There wasn’t a single reason for Genevieve not to slip beneath the covers and go to sleep.