“How do you think I feel playing the ‘unacceptable’ among the parade of fools in your company?” His smile was in his voice, as was his jealousy.
“The sugar baron, the duke, every man at the ball…”
There it was again. That bitter tinge of envy in his voice that she quite liked.
“They are my sisters-in-law. They will be delighted to hear you have called them brazen hussies.”
“Your sisters-in-law?” Her mouth dropped open. “I never called them hussies.”
He folded his arms in front of him and narrowed his eyes on her. “I told you I didn’t want your financial help.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about.”
He looked at her patiently, as if she were a backward child. “I can guess where the money came from. I don’t need charity.”
No wonder Fiona warned her about men. Provoking creatures.
“Well, Mr. Rourke,” she protested, twining a lock of hair around her finger and taking her time to embroider a response. “I’ve no talent for riddles. I can’t imagine who your secret benefactor is,” she said testily.
He grabbed her wrist, pulled her into the hidden shadows of an alcove, his thumb moving in lazy circles across her skin and the world seemed to close in on her. His gentle caress set off an intense yearning in her. She wanted to be closer to him, but he deliberately held her at a distance. She yearned for him to let down his defenses, to erase the differences that kept them apart.
Somehow, they’d drawn even closer without her realizing it. His coat brushed her arm with each intake of his breath, his exhale sending warm air past her temple. If only?—
“Elizabeth,” he whispered.
Before she could stop herself, she leaned up, placing her hands on his shoulders as she kissed him. He groaned in theback of his throat and the sound vibrated inside her, sending need and desire flooding through her veins.
He pulled her roughly to him, his mouth covering hers hungrily, that of a half-starved man, filling a wanting, as a desolate tract craves a deluge. His tongue plunged into her mouth, and she burned everything about him into her memory. She laced her arms around his neck. Boneless, she sank against him. He circled his arms around her, holding her close, and she felt the fast beat of his heart. Blood pounded in her brain.
The scratch of wheels on pavement and the snap of a whip soaked through her passion-ridden brain. Zachary pushed her away, holding her at arm’s length. He had heard it, too.
“Elizabeth.” He whipped his head around while she steadied her legs. “Did you notice that carriage across the street? It has been everywhere, the riot at the theater, outside the orphanage. Someone is watching you.”
“I have no idea who it could be. It could be any random carriage.”
With their discovery, the unremarkable conveyance disappeared in the murky darkness. “My instincts say no. I’ll have Maguire investigate. Be wary until I find answers.” He had a good idea who it was.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Zachary closed the door quietly, shutting the factory noise out. Elizabeth had fallen asleep, her arms cradled over the desk. She had worked on the ledgers for hours, and it was a warm September afternoon. How he enjoyed Elizabeth’s daily visits, easy wit and found endearing the ever-present ink smudges on her face.
His jaw clenched. Her parents were back from Rhode Island, and it would be a matter of time before she’d have to quit or risk being discovered.
He lifted her and, in her slumber, she snuggled into his chest murmuring sounds of pleasure while innocently stroking his neck. He refused to release her, allowing this one time to hold her in his arms while reclining on his bed. She was the personification of sweetness, of lavender and lemon. He lay fascinated, taking in everything about her. Her lips so perfect, nose, chin, cheeks. To kiss her and keep on kissing her. He smoothed silken tendrils of her hair back, to take it apart and run the golden tresses through his fingers. To lay beside her every night for the rest of his life.
She stirred undeterred he’d taken liberties.
“You were exhausted—” he explained.
“To tell you the truth, I’ve dreamed of you holding me, protecting me.”
He filled his lungs with a deep satisfying breath, and he shifted to rise. “I should get you home.”
She held fast. “A few minutes more–please.”
The unusual pleading and distress in her voice disturbed him. She struggled to speak, but only a dry sob passed her lips. His insides twisted. Whatever was bothering her rose an unbearable agony. He waited.
“When I became with child, my family treated me like a social pariah. I suffered the constant snipes and innuendos from my mother and sister. And then I was shipped from home to hide my disgrace. I lived in isolation.
