Deliciously Wicked (14 page)

He paced the short length of his room, the wood floor feeling cold to his bare feet. He wanted to tell her the
truth about himself. Wanted her to know about his title and his father and how he'd ruined everything. Wanted her to know that taking the title would destroy him. But telling her would serve no purpose.

There was a truth he could deny no longer. It had started as desire, just his flesh needing to touch her flesh. Then she had awakened a protective instinct within him. But it was more than that now. He didn't want to put a name to it, but he'd be a liar if he said he wasn't beginning to care about Meg Piddington.

Yet another reason that he needed to stop giving in to temptation. Stop being weak and allowing the desire to pull him over the edge and pull her into his arms.

 

Meg leaned against the closed door, her eyes squeezed shut. They were playing a dangerous game, both of them. He for reasons he had yet to disclose, and she for her own. She risked so much every time she allowed him to kiss her or touch her. Risked her carefully decided plans for the future.

For every time they kissed, she wanted one more. Every touch he gave, she wanted him to touch her elsewhere on her body. Never was she left satisfied when it came to Gareth. More. She always wanted more. This was the most dangerous of all because she knew if she ever lost her heart to him, she'd never be happy. He could never, would never love her, and knowing that would eventually break down her spirit.

She'd guarded her heart for years against trifling things, thinking that she'd done a good job protecting herself, when in reality, she'd never once been tempted.
Not really. Not with the one man who could make her risk it all and who, in the end, would take everything she gave without having anything to give in return.

If she wasn't more careful, this relationship was going to end in her greatest fear.

G
areth walked in silence next to Meg as they made their way around the factory grounds. He kept his hands in his pockets and his eyes forward. He'd said nothing when she asked him to take this walk; he'd merely nodded and followed her out the door.

“I asked you to walk with me because I thought you might enjoy some open air. That factory can get dark with the limited windows,” she said.

“Thank you,” he said.

There were so many things he wanted to say to her. So many apologies and explanations, but the truth was, he wasn't certain he could come up with a good explanation. He'd lain awake for hours last night thinking of their passionate kiss. About the many times he'd pulled her into his arms only to push her away moments later.

He could only hope she knew that he was not a callous man and that he meant her no harm. Their
attraction, the pull between them confused the hell out of him. He'd never before met a woman he couldn't resist. In the past, he'd always been the one to say when and where, always been the one in control.

And while so far with Meg, he'd managed to control when he touched her and when he let her go, he seemingly had no control over the intense desire for her. The lustful need to put his hands on her body and his mouth on hers. So far he'd been able to resist the intense longing to plunge himself deep inside her, but he wasn't so certain he could resist it much longer. Which was why he couldn't allow himself even the slightest taste of her lips. Why right now, he stood with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

He knew she felt it too. What he didn't know was whether it was unique to him. Would she react as strongly with any man who made such advances on her? Was her flesh ready for any man's touch, or was it his touch and his alone that left gooseflesh in its wake?

They ended up at a bench at the edge of a pond. It was a ways from the factory, so they were alone, secluded from everyone. It was the perfect spot for a seductive rendezvous, he couldn't help but notice, but today he would not touch her. Better to end it now before it grew out of control. He'd rather walk away knowing, or at least believing, that she desired him. Walk away before that desire waned and she no longer looked at him with hungering eyes.

It would happen eventually.

“I spoke with my father,” she began. “About the Leighton Brothers. He didn't know many specifics either. Only that they're a fairly new confectionery and
have been trying several new recipes looking for something that would separate them from all the rest. I didn't mention the conversation I heard in detail. There is no reason to alarm him of a possible traitor if we discover this has no merit,” she said.

“The Leighton Brothers seem to be quite secretive,” he commented. “What shall we do now? I want to investigate this matter further to discover if the chocolate boxes came from here.”

“I agree, we must do something,” she said. “I've thought on this awhile, and I've come up with a plan. But you will need to be the one to see it through as I can't risk being recognized.”

He picked up a fallen twig and began plucking the leaves off it. “What would you have me do?”

“Meet with the Leighton Brothers. Charade as an investor and persuade them to show you the boxes. You'll be able to determine, on sight, if the boxes are Piddington's.”

Once all the leaves were removed, he flung the twig into the pond. “Charade as an investor? Do you think they'll believe me?”

“I'm certain of it. All we need to do is put you in some fancier clothes and you'll pass for a wealthy investor in no time.” She gave him a shy smile. “You have the arrogance for it.”

He smirked and elbowed her in the side. “Why will they agree to see me if they already have an investor? What did you say her name was?”

“Mildred Sommerset. Even if they have an investor, they certainly won't turn away another one. I think if you try to schedule an appointment ahead of time, they'll have too much time to research you. It seems it
will be better if you simply drop by because you were in the neighborhood, so to speak.” She stood and walked to the edge of the pond, then turned back to face him.

“Associate yourself with Mrs. Sommerset. Tell them that she was bragging about her investment and how lovely the Leightons were to work with and that you would like to make a similar investment. If they're as hungry for funding as they appear to be, then they should jump at the chance.” She walked back toward the bench.

“You certainly have all of this figured out,” he said.

She chewed at her lip. “I didn't sleep much last night.” She met his glance and didn't look away or say anything else for a moment.

He hadn't slept last night either. And instead of feeling guilty for causing her such withdrawal, he instead thought of all the sinful things they could have done to each other while awake in the darkest of night.

“It was easy to formulate this plan. I've given it a lot of thought and it is my belief that we should follow through with this,” she said.

He considered her for a moment in silence as he fought his urge to immediately agree. He couldn't help but wonder: did he want to help her because it was the right thing to do or because he merely wanted to spend more time with her?

He suspected it was the latter. But did it matter either way? He wouldn't—no, couldn't—refuse to help her. Not when he knew if he refused her plan, she'd develop some other scheme to investigate on her own.

“What do we do first?” he asked.

“We need to go shopping.” She started up the hill as if she was ready to leave.

“Now?” he asked.

“Yes, I believe so. The sooner we can purchase something for you to wear, the sooner you can visit them. Aren't you ready to move past this?” she asked.

Clearly she was ready. Ready to be rid of him. Ready to be finished with this task she'd taken on. It had been exciting in the beginning, but now it was another burdensome duty for her. She would not say it, she would never walk away until she'd exhausted all methods of proving his innocence, but she was tired of this. He could see it in her weary eyes. Eyes that had once been bright and cheerful and full of challenge, now would scarcely look at him.

He stood and followed her up the hill. “We need to stop by my room so I can gather some funds,” he said.

“That won't be necessary. I have plenty of money.”

“I realize that. But it is your money. I will use my money to purchase my own clothes.” He would not argue with her about this. He would not take her money. He'd taken enough from her as it was.

 

The newly purchased pants, boots, and jacket were so black, Gareth looked like midnight itself. Unless you glanced up to see the shock of white at his neck, tied perfectly.

“You look…wealthy,” she told him. And sinful. And so desirable, she wanted nothing more than to run her fingertips all over him. She felt the heat of her blush creep up her breasts and into her neck.

He stepped out of his room. “Are you ready?”

Her mouth had gone dry, but she managed to nod. As he helped her into the brougham, she focused on keeping her eyes averted.

She watched the Piddington Confectionery disappear out the window of the brougham, trying to avoid glancing at Gareth's long legs encased in the tight black fabric. Good heavens. A movement from him caught her attention and brought her eyes to his face.

He fidgeted with his collar.

“Are you uncomfortable?” she asked.

“No. Do you think they'll believe I'm an investor?” he asked.

It was on her tongue to tell him that they'd believe anything that he told them, but she decided not to. “You certainly look the part.”

He smiled at her.

She sucked in her breath.

“You like this look,” he said. He was quite pleased with himself.

She tugged on her skirt. “You look very handsome,” she said tightly.

“Handsome? Is that all? Because I could swear from your expression that there was another word floating in your mind. Dashing, perhaps?”

“Sinful,” she said in a huff.

He arched one eyebrow. “Sinful?”

“Are you teasing me? Because you are not a teaser. In fact, you have rarely shown signs of even having a sense of humor, let alone that you know how to tease a person. Yes, you look so handsome in that, I'm finding it incredibly difficult to concentrate on anything else. But there is no reason why you must torment me further.”

As soon as the words left her mouth she wanted to snatch them back.

Oh no. What had she done? She'd said way too much. It was not entirely news to him that she might
find him attractive since she'd allowed him such liberties in the past, but she'd never come right out and said anything about that.

She was nearly afraid to look him in the eye.

But instead of apologizing and ending the conversation right then, he looked at her and laughed. Heartily.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “You should have seen your face.”

“There is no reason to laugh at me.”

“But you are so upset with your reaction. It's amusing.”

She looked away.

“Meg, it's only a pair of black pants and a jacket. There's nothing that different about me.”

He was wrong. It was different. The differences were slight, almost too small to even notice, but she'd seen them. The slight angle he held his chin. The small rise of his shoulders. The clothes made him feel different about himself. And either he hadn't noticed or he didn't want to admit it.

The carriage pulled to a stop outside a brick building that ran the length of one block. There was a small, hand-painted sign out front that read, “Leighton Brothers. Chocolates and Other Delights.”

Gareth ran his hands down his thighs. “This is it,” he said.

“Are you nervous?”

“No. I'm not convinced they'll believe me, but I'm not nervous.”

“I'll wait in here,” she said. She wanted to go in with him. Play a role as well, but what if they knew who she was? She couldn't risk it. “Make certain they show you the boxes.”

“I will.” He opened the carriage door. “I will be back in a short while.”

She watched him walk into the building and disappear behind the doors. The area was not the nicest in London, but it was better than many spots. The building must have been for another factory of sorts and the Leightons had purchased it. It didn't look as if they'd finished remodeling the entire factory. Perhaps they were working as they could afford.

The streets were fairly quiet, not offering too much for her to watch while she waited for his return. Two little boys, scruffy and dirty, ran by her window and then across the street. She could hear the horse's hooves clicking on the street. It was getting restless, as was she.

She had no timepiece with her, so she wasn't certain how long it took, but eventually Gareth stepped out of the factory and back into the carriage.

He shook his head. “Not our boxes,” he said.

Meg felt as defeated as he looked. His face had lost the light from before, and now his brow furrowed and his lips set in a line.

“What happened?”

He shrugged. “You were right, they were eager for another investor. I mentioned Mildred's name and both men jumped to their feet. At that point, they would have shown me anything.” He reached up and loosened his tie. “After I saw the boxes, I told them I'd be in touch. But they weren't our boxes. Not even the same quality. So if they start selling them, Piddington has nothing to be concerned about.”

Meg nodded. She had been so certain that this was the break they'd been looking for. The final piece to
the puzzle. But it was not to be. So they were still left wondering who took the boxes and why they were going to such lengths to pin their crime on Gareth.

If she was completely honest, she wasn't totally disappointed with the outcome of this jaunt. Once they solved this case, they would no longer need to work with each other.

“I'd wager you did a brilliant job in there,” she offered.

His beautiful hazel eyes met hers. Such longing in them. Longing for too many things for her to name. But she was not one of those things. Whatever had spurred his initial desire for her had waned. He was civil to her, even kind. But he had not touched her in days. Even earlier when he'd teased her, it had been harmless, as if she were a girl he'd just met.

It was for the best, she knew that. But she missed his touch. Missed his kisses. Missed being the object of desire.