"I see." Leo tugged Beatrice after him. "We will be waiting for you.'
Clarinda hitched up the hood of her tattered cloak and hurried off toward the welcoming lights of the tavern. Beatrice said nothing until they reached the first land-
ing. Then she glanced at Leo, her gaze shadowed by the cloak. "Cox is an acquaintance of Mr. Sibson's?"
"I suppose it's not such an odd coincidence." Leo told himself not to leap to conclusions. "Moss Lane is only a short distance from Cunning Lane after all. They are both in the same neighborhood. Cox and Sibson have very likely known each other for years. It's entirely possible that Dr. Cox actually does treat Sibson with his elixir."
"Hinin." Leo turned at the next landing and drew Beatrice down the hall. "We shall consider the matter tomorrow. We have problems enough tonight."
He assessed the hall before he opened the door. Another staircase at the rear promised the possibility of a second exit in the event one was needed. It appeared to go up to the roof as well as down to the alley. He would have to be content with that. There was no time to make other plans.
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He twisted the knob and pushed open the door. Warily he held the lantern aloft to view the interior.
Clarinda's room was surprisingly neat and orderly. A small bed, a chipped washstand, and a battered crate that apparently served as a table were the sole furnishings. The fireplace in the corner was cold and dark.
"Unfortunately, we shall have to make do without the lamp or a fire.' Leo turned down the lantern as he spoke. "A glow from that window over there might arouse some curiosity in our pursuers. Especially if they notice that Clarinda is in the tavern."
"Yes, of course." Beatrice cleared her throat. "I suppose it is none of my affair, Leo, but may I ask how it is that you come to have an acquaintance with Clarinda?"
Leo set down the darkened lantern. "I met her after I talked to Sibson yesterday. She agreed to keep an eye on his shop and to give me a description of any unusual customers."
"Why are you so concerned with that particular shop?" "Sibson has excellent contacts in the stolen antiquities markets. If there are flesh rumors of the Rings circulating, he will hear of them. And so will others, who will likely come to his shop for information."
"I see." Beatrice was a graceful silhouette against the window. "Then your association with her is not of a, ah, personal nature?"
"My association with whom?" "Clarinda.'
Leo went to the window to stand beside her. He looked down into the street. From this vantage point he could see the amber light that lit the tavern windows. Occasional bursts of muffled laughter and the drunken cries of gamesters reached him.
"Personal?" he said absently. "What the devil do you mean by that?" Then it struck him. "Oh, I see. Personal." Beatrice concentrated very hard on the street scene.
"As I said, it's really none of my affair."
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Leo turned his head to study her proud profile. In the luminous glow of the fog he could see that her hair had tumbled free of its pins. The soft tresses cascaded around her shoulders. The scent of her body, warmed by the recent wild dash through the streets, clouded his mind.
He fought the fierce ache of desire that swept through him. This was most assuredly not the right time or place. "'It's quite all right," he said brusquely. "The answer to
your question is, no, my association with Clarinda is not of a personal nature."
She was silent for a moment. Then she said simply, "I'm glad.'
Memories of the way she had responded to him earlier in the carriage made Leo grip the windowsill so tightly, he wondered the wood did not splinter. He forced himself to turn back to the view of the fog-bound street.
Silence descended on Clarinda's room.
After a few moments the door of the tavern slammed open. Shouts went up. Lanterns danced in the fog. Leo counted swiftly. Two, three, four, altogether. They separated and set off in opposite directions down Cunning Lane.
None of them moved toward Clarinda's doorway. He exhaled slowly. "The search has begun. I believe we are safe for the moment."
"Do you think we can trust Clarinda?"
"Yes. I made certain to give her more than our would-be kidnappers would dream of paying her."
He was reasonably sure that Clarinda would prove trustworthy, but one could never be completely positive about that sort of thing.
"They are like a pack of hounds after a fox," Beatrice whispered.
"Elf would take offense if he knew that you had compared him to those bastards."
"'Yes. I suppose he would."
He felther shiver in the darkness. He put his arm
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around her shoulders and pulled her close. "All will be well Beatrice. It will never occur to them that we might have gone to ground. They will assume that we are on the run."
"Yes." Silence fell once more. Down in the street, the last of the lanterns disappeared into the mist.
"I fear that we are going to be here for a while," Leo said.
"When will it be safe to leave?"
"When they have abandoned the search. We cannot leave now. We would likely run straight into some of those bastards."
"We may be here for hours," Beatrice said.
"I suspect the coachman's new assistants will soon lose interest in their quarry. When they return to their gin and cards, we will depart."
"What about the kidnappers?"
"They will come to the conclusion that we escaped their net after all."
Beatrice glanced at him. "You sound very sure of your conclusions."
1 have had some experie ce with elements of the criminal class, if you will recall." 7
"Yes." She brushed" her gloved hands. "Well, I suppose we may as well make ourselves as comfortable as possible. It is going to be a long night."
"Rest if you like. I shall keep watch."
She glanced into the shadows that concealed Clarinda's narrow bed. "I think not, thank you."
Leo shrugged. "Likely no worse than thebedding in most inns, and no doubt cleaner than some."
"It is the notion of how it has been used in the course of Clarinda's career that bothers me. In any event, I am not the least sleepy. I will be happy to stand watch if you would care to rest."
"I am not tired either."
"Oh." She gazed down into the street. "Well, then we shall keep the watch together."
Leo braced himself against the windowsill and studied the empty street. The silence grew.
"Beatrice?" "Yes?" "About the incident in the carriage just before we were
obliged to leap out into the street-"
"There is no need to discuss it, my lord," she said stiffly. "I quite understand.'
"You do?"
"Yes, of course. There is no need to say anything more on the subject."
He turned slightly, trying to make out her features in the shadows. "On the contrary, madam. There is every need to talk about it, because such incidents are going to happen again."
There was an acute silence.
"They are?" Beatrice finally said in an odd voice.
"For God's sake, woman, do not play the naYve, emptyheaded innocent tonight. I am not in the mood for it."
She rounded on him without warning. "Do not dare to lose your temper with me on this subject, sir. I am the one who has a right to be annoyed. One moment you kiss me as though you are consumed by passion, and in the next you break off the embrace on one pretext or another."
Leo felt his jaw drop. "One pretext or another? Madam, tonight I broke it off because we were in the process of getting ourselves kidnapped."
"Very well, I will concede that you had an excuse this evening."
He clamped his teeth together. "Thank you."
"But yesterday you kissed me merely so that you could spy on that man who watched our meeting with Madame Virtue. Do not deny it."
"I am not going to deny it."
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"There. That is twice in a row. I perceive a pattern here, sir."
He took a step closer to her. "What of that first kiss in my library? You were the one who broke it off, not me." Her chin came up proudly. "That one does not count, my lord."
"It doesn't?"
"You were not yourself. You were likely in shock as a result of your wound and you'd had a great deal of brandy to drink."
"The pain wasn't that bad and I hadn't had that much to drink."
"My lord, I will not tolerate any more of that sort of thing."
He could not believe his ears. "That sort of thing?"
"If I fail to excite your passions, say so and be done with it. I assure you it will not affect our business association." He closed his hands around her shoulders and pulled her hard against him.
"Leo?" "You excite me, Mrs. Poole. Hell's teeth, you excite me." He yanked at the knot of his cravat until it came free. Then he pulled Beatrice back into- his arms.
He saw her eyes widen just before he crushed her mouth with his own.
"Leo.' His name emerged as a muffled shriek.
Desire flashed through him, as hot and intense as a bolt of lightning. He turned, pressed her against the wall, and stepped between her legs. The folds of her cloak fell away. In the shadows Leo saw the soft, gentle curves that swelled above the low neckline of her gown.
He worked the silk bodice downward until he could cup one breast in his hand. He skimmed his thumb across the taut nipple. It grew full. He bent his head to take it between his teeth.
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Beatrice gasped. A tremor went through her. He realized that if he had not held her against the wall with the weight of his body, she would have slipped to her knees. He traced the line of her spine with his fingers and gloried in the shivers that followed.
Beatrice fumbled with the fastenings of his shirt. "Every day I am tormented with thoughts about how you looked that night in the library without your shirt, my lord."
"Every day I am tormented with memories of how good your hands felt when you touched me. I thought I would go mad if I did not feel your fingers on my bare skin again."
She slipped her fingers beneath the edges of his linen shirt. Her palms were warm and infinitely soft.
"You are so hard." She sounded awed. "So strong." Dear God, she wanted him. He could hear the passion in her voice. He felt it in the delicious little shivers that coursed through her. She wanted him as badly, as achingly, as he wanted her.
He managed to get the front of his breeches undone. She reached down to encircle him with her fingers, and he thought he would spill his seed into her hands. He fought to control himself.
"Oh, Leo." She sounded breathless. Her hand tightened around him. "This is amazing."
He groaned. "I shall disgrace myself if you continue to do that."
"You could never disgrace yourself. You are magnificent, sir. Absolutely incredible." She rained urgent little kisses on his throat and shoulders. "And to think that you do not even find it necessary to fortify yourself with brandy and erotic etchings."
"Brandy and etchings?" He raised his head from her breast. "Damnation. Is that what your husband used before he came to your bed?"
"He said it was the only way he could force himself to do
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his husbandly duty. He did not love me, but he wanted a son. It was the only thing he wanted of me. And it was the one thing I could not give him."
"Beatrice, listen to me."
"Never mind, Leo." She released him to clench her fingers in his hair. "It no longer matters. Please, kiss me again.' "I need nothing more than the thought of you to arouse
me." His voice sounded harsh to his own ears. "I have wanted to make love to you since the moment I met you." He kissed her again. Her lips parted beneath his. He sank his teeth gently into her lower lip.
When she gave a soft cry of surprise, he grabbed a fistful of her skirts and shoved them up to her waist. She was wet and hot and infinitely inviting. The scent of her was the most potent of elixirs. He wanted to lose himself in it.
He grasped one firm, rounded thigh and pulled it snugly around his waist. Then he lifted her other leg and folded it into position. He braced her firmly against the wall. "Dear heaven, Leo."
She sounded both horrified and unbearably excited. It was the most erotic music that Leo had ever heard. Her knees tightened convulsively around him. Her hands clenched his shoulders. Exultation roared through him.
He stroked her until he felt her start to tremble, until his fingers were drenched, until he could no longer stand the torture he was inflicting on himself. He cupped her buttocks and planted his shaft at the entrance to her damp passage.
"Dear heaven." Her voice was only a breath of sound in the darkness.
He urged her relentlessly downward. He felt small muscles tighten along the way, at first in resistance and then in snug acceptance.
And then he was deep inside her.
The sizzling shock of the union went through both of them simultaneously. For a few seconds it was all Leo could do to stay on his feet.
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Beatrice opened her mouth, but no sound emerged. For a timeless moment they stared at each other in the darkness.
"You are so tight," he whispered hoarsely.
"It has been so long." Her fingers clenched in his hair. "And it was never like this. Indeed, I did not know it could be like this."
"Neither did L" he groaned.
He steadied her against the wall with one hand and reached down with the other. He found the firm bud and tugged gently.
She sank her nails into his shoulders. He moved once, twice, three times. Her whole body tensed around him. Her mouth opened on a soft, soundless scream. And then he felt the tremors of her release.
It was too much. He crushed her against the wall and pumped himself into her.
Sometime later, still pressed against the wall, Beatrice stirred. "There is something I should tell you," she said quietly. Leo held her steady with one hand and planted his