The morning after they’d made love, she’d awakened on the sparring mats in his arms. He’d held her through the night, something else neither of her former lovers had done. And when he’d looked at her, her breath had stuttered at what she’d seen: undisguised wonder.
“I’ve always admired you, Pearl...and I’ve been attracted to you for longer than I’d care to admit.”His voice gruff, Hawker had taken her hand, kissing it with unexpected grace.“Even though our affair started off like a bleeding Roman candle, I want you to know that my intentions are honorable. I intend to court you properly, show you the respect you deserve—”
Pure, unadulterated panic had swamped her. She’d cut him off, made some asinine excuse, and fled. He’d approached her in the upcoming days, expressing his earnest wish to explore a “future” with her. Presenting her with little gifts, to make things worse. It was as if he’d picked up the shards of her old dream and proceeded to stab her with them one by one. With the possibility of what she knew could never be. Finally, she’d resorted to shielding herself with lies.
It meant nothing to me. You were merely a distraction. A mistake because I drank too much.
She’d said other unkind things too. And given him the cold shoulder, which he’d done nothing to deserve. Eventually, he had backed off. What he hadnotdone, however, was retaliate. He’d never said a mean word. Never tried to coerce or hurt her. He’d accepted her decision…even if he was a trifle grumpy about it. And she couldn’t even blame him because the tension was mutual.
Over the past year, they’d begun to snipe at each other. To lock horns more and more over household matters and the training of the Angels. Others had noticed their bickering, yet she felt powerless to stop it. Animosity felt safer than the other emotions roiling beneath.
Yet Hawker could only be pushed so far; she sensed he was reaching his limit.
Fixing a gimlet gaze on her, he said, “Lady Fayne, would you mind if Mrs. Peabody and I ’ave a private discussion downstairs?”
“As I have errands to run, you may have your discussion here.” Lady Fayne rose, giving Pearl a wry look as she headed to the door. “Do have a care with the new carpet, will you? You know bloodstains are a chore to remove.”
Three
Hawker counted himself a patient man, but enough wasenough.
“I’ve put up with a lot from you, Peabody.” He jabbed a finger at her. “Your constant badgering about cleanliness and order, your inflexible training routine for the Angels. But what I ain’t going to tolerate is your questioning o’ my ability to do my bloodyjob.”
His voice rose to a bellow. Knowing that his size and appearance could be intimidating to others, he’d learned to keep a tight rein on his emotions. But Peabody had a way of getting under his skin.
“So says the pot.” She lifted her chin, clearly not the least bit cowed by him. “Youare the one who insulted me first.”
“How in bleeding ’ell did I do that?”
“You questionedmycompetence. I can deliver a package on my own.”
Frustration clawed at him. “It ain’t about your abilities, woman. No one should be making this journey alone in the dead o’ winter.”
“What I do is my decision to make. Not yours.”
“Why are you so bloody-minded?”
“Why are you so overbearing?”
He gritted his teeth. “I just don’t want you to get hurt, you ’ard-headed fool.”
She didn’t back down, standing toe-to-toe with him. “Howdareyou insult me.”
“Stop acting like a fool, and I’ll stop calling you one. Christ,”—he raked a hand through his hair—“I just want you to be safe, Pearl.”
In the roaring silence, she blinked at him. Her first name had slipped out; he hadn’t used it in nearly a year. Not since she’d washed her hands of him.
“I did not give you leave to address me that way,” she retorted.
Yet he saw the awareness that dilated her pupils and the ungoverned surges of her bosom. When she wetted her lips, he nearly groaned. She bloodywantedhim—with the same wild and reckless hunger that he wanted her.
He found her reaction both exhilarating and infuriating. He’d never understood why she’d rejected him after their scorching interlude. After she’d responded to him with such passion, need, and fire. That night, he had felt a connection he’d never felt with any female before. He hadn’t believed that Cupid’s arrow was real until it had struck him true. By dawn, he’d been ready to go down on one knee.
She, however, had given him the old heave-ho. He’d bided his time, thinking she needed courting. He’d tried different ways to win her over. Flowers, poesies, tins of sweets. He’d even paid more attention to his appearance in an effort to be more pleasing to her. Yet she seemed hell-bent on turning their attraction into animosity. Just as he was ready to admit defeat—to acknowledge that there was no hope of getting through to her—here Peabody was gettingarousedby their exchange.
As usual, her timing couldn’t be worse. A week ago, he’d received a letter that had shaken him to the core. Somehow his kin had found him, delivering an inheritance that he’d never expected norwanted. It had taken all of Hawker’s self-discipline to maintain his composure and carry out his duties for Lady Fayne while an inner tempest raged. Even though he’d worked his arse off to build a new life, the past had caught up with him. He didn’t know if the solution was to run again or stand his ground.
Aye, the timing was shite. How could he pursue Pearl when his future was so bloody uncertain? Yet how could he let her go?
