Page 32 of A Scandal at Stonecliffe

In that instant, Nathan’s fists clenched around the pouch, and he shot up, slamming his hands into the robber’s groin as he rose. At the same moment, Verity drove her heel back hard against her captor’s shin, and bent forward, twisting, using the man’s own weight as momentum to flip him to the ground. More coins rained down on the lane from the man’s pockets as he was momentarily in midair.

The second ruffian jumped forward, swinging his fist at Nathan, but he blocked the blow with one arm and drove his other fist into the man’s stomach. The man staggered back, and took one glance at Verity charging at him, wielding his companion’s knife, and he took to his heels.

Verity and Nathan wheeled around to the other robber, only to see that he had managed to jump up and run, as well. The thick fog had already swallowed them.

“We’ll never catch them,” Verity said in disgust. “But at least we’re not entirely empty-handed...” She bent down and retrieved a small bag that had fallen out of the man’s pocket along with his coins. It had Fairborn’s Confectionary stamped on the front. Opening it, she took a little sniff, “Fancy a lemon drop?” She popped one in her mouth.

Nathan turned to her, and she looked so incongruous, standing there in her evening dress, holding the large knife, chewing on a lemon drop that he began to laugh. Verity let out a giggle herself and dropped the knife, running to him. And then she was in his arms, and he was kissing her.

Rationality and circumspection fled from his mind as desire flooded through him, mingling with the excitement of the fight and the anger that had surged in him at the sight of the ruffian’s knife against Verity’s slender white throat. In this fragment of time, all that he knew was Verity and the sweetness of her mouth, the soft curve of her body pressed against his.

“Verity,” he murmured, his voice thick with passion as he sank his hand into her hair, sending hairpins flying. The soft curls twined around his fingers, and it seemed as if her very being curled through him, entangling him just as surely.

He kissed her lips, trailing across to nip at her ear, as his hand moved up to cup her breast. Through the soft fabric of her dress, he could feel the warmth of her skin, the tautness of her nipple, and desire shot straight down through him, exploding in his abdomen, turning him hard and eager.

Verity’s hands were on him, as well, sliding beneath his jacket and across his chest, and when she pressed up against him, her leg hooking around his, it almost shattered his control. He made a soft noise and began to kiss his way down her neck.

The iron taste of blood touched his tongue, slamming Nathan back into reality, and he jerked away, his arms falling to his sides. “Verity. My God, I forgot. Your throat.” He reached out toward the red line across her neck but pulled his hand back quickly. “Are you all right?”

“What?” Verity looked blankly at him, her eyes a bit hazy. “Oh. That.” She reached up and touched the cut. “It’s nothing. I’m fine. I doubt it will even leave a scar.” But she, too, stepped back, giving a little tug to her bodice to straighten it. “Well.” She glanced around. “That was foolish. They could have come back.” She walked over to pick up the knife again.

“Yes. I beg your pardon,” Nathan said, feeling doubly guilty now. “That was very wrong of me.”

Verity flashed him a grin. “It wasn’t all on you, you know. I think I had something to do with it.”

“Yes, well.” He had no idea how to answer so he bent down and began to retrieve the coins.

Verity came over to help. When he stuffed a small iron bar into the pouch, as well, she let out an exclamation and reached over to grab his wrist. “Wait. What’s this? You were hiding a weight?” she asked in delighted tones.

He nodded a little sheepishly. “Learned it from Sloane, and I found it handy when I was traveling on the Continent. One never knows when one’s going to wind up in the wrong place. I’m no good with a knife, and a pistol is a bulky thing to carry around.”

“Mmm,” she said in a grave tone. “I can see that it would ruin the line of your jacket.”

“And formal shoes don’t hide a weapon as boots do.” He sent her a dancing sideways glance.

Verity dumped her coins into the pouch and stood. “I think we’d better get inside the house before those men come back with companions.”

They were only a few houses away from Verity’s home, and they were soon inside it. Verity locked the door behind them. Nathan watched, somewhat bemused, as she toured the rest of the downstairs, checking the windows and the basement.

“You think they were in your house?”

“I don’t know. Obviously they knew where I lived since they were waiting for us.” Verity shrugged. “I always do this anyway.”

“Every night?” Nathan asked in astonishment, trailing after her as she went up the stairs and followed the same routine.

“It only takes one mistake,” she told him.

He stood outside her bedroom as she checked it. It was impossible not to focus on the bed and equally impossible not to think back to their kiss a few minutes ago. Throughout the day, he had told himself he could not go down that path, and within only hours he had broken his vow. Nathan had always thought himself reasonably careful and in control. He was beginning to wonder whether he really knew himself at all.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

WHEN THEY RETURNED to the parlor, Verity poured each of them a glass of brandy. She settled down in a chair, tucking one leg under her. Nathan sat down on the sofa across from her and tried to ignore the luscious picture she made—languid and relaxed, her hair in disarray, her lips reddened and faintly swollen from their kisses.

“Bravo on your performance, Mr. Dunbridge,” Verity said. “I would never have expected you to put on such a show.”

“I was a trifle afraid you wouldn’t realize what I was doing.” He felt unaccountably warmed by her compliment.

“Ha! I knew you were up to something though I wasn’t sure what.”