The Black Sheep and the English Rose

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Epilogue

S
omeone else had gotten to her first.

It. Someone else had gotten to
it
first. She had nothing to do with it. Or shouldn't have. But then, he could be forgiven for being slightly distracted. He'd just broken into one of New York City's finer five star hotel suites expecting to be dazzled by a sapphire sparkler…only he'd thought the gorgeous gem would come in the form of a priceless Byzantine necklace. Not a stunning redhead tied to a bed in little more than midnight blue satin and lace.

If she was surprised to see him, her scowl didn't let on.

The last time Finn Dalton had laid eyes on Felicity Jane Trent, she'd been dripping in diamonds. Someone else's diamonds. Two years had passed since that stormy winter night in Prague. Her penchant for hot gemstones, however, apparently had not.

The only difference was that this time, someone else had gotten to her first. So, rather than rescuing a priceless antiquity, Finn was left with the option of rescuing Felicity Jane.

He leaned against the doorway of the elegantly appointed bedroom and folded his arms. “Hello, Jane.” He smiled when she bristled. He was certain she felt that was far too common a name for a woman like her, which was mostly why he'd used it. Jane was a strong, no-nonsense moniker, much like its owner. Felicity, on the other hand, was a name that conjured up images of a beautiful, innocent sprite whose most pressing problem was attempting to find the heels she'd kicked off the night before.

The only resemblance Felicity Jane bore to a beautiful, innocent sprite was the beautiful part.

“I didn't steal it,” she informed him, her crisp English accent reflecting both her Oxford education and a pedigree that would make even the royals gush in approval. Not that they would approve of her if they knew. Knew what only Finn knew.

“Well, not to state the obvious,” he said, “but whatever it was you didn't steal is clearly no longer in your possession, so it's rather a moot point now, isn't it?”

“Whatever it was?” She all but spat his words back at him.

But then, he already knew from personal experience how much she hated to lose.

“You're honestly going to stand there and pretend that we aren't here for the same purpose?” She laughed then, but there was little humor in it.

“Actually, I'm standing here wondering why he didn't gag you. And why you aren't screaming bloody murder. Given that, you know, you weren't here to steal anything.”

“Rather a sexist observation, don't you think?”

“What, that I assumed you were outsmarted by a man?” He smiled. “Again?”

“Not outsmarted. Everything was perfectly planned. I merely turned my attention away for a single moment and—” She'd instantly leapt to defend herself, then, realizing the trap, wisely clammed up.

“Not sexist,” he went on, nodding at her clothing. Or lack thereof. And enjoying the moment far more than he knew was wise. “I simply deduced that it wasn't likely you'd been entertaining someone of the same sex.” He cocked his head. “But I've been wrong before.”

She sniffed. “Pig.”

“Just a man. I hope you don't mind if I take a brief moment to imagine…” He closed his eyes and let his smile slowly spread to a grin.

“A pig and a scoundrel, but then I learned as much in Prague.”

He opened his eyes, his smile not wavering so much as a tic. He wondered if she'd noted his heightened awareness, though. She didn't miss much. “Funny, I don't recall you using either of those terms to describe me that night. In fact, as I remember it, the terms you used were more along the lines of life-altering and—”

“Nothing more than an ego stroke, I assure you. Men like to hear what they want to hear, after all.” Her tone had become quite clipped, but her skin tone had warmed. And she couldn't seem to keep her gaze from dipping below his chin. Possibly recalling, as was he, that last night they'd been together. It had been rather…memorable. And for far more reasons than the manner in which it had unfortunately ended.

“Had it only been my ego you were stroking at the time, perhaps I'd agree, but that kind of sincerity—and, well, the word ‘awe' comes to mind—really can't be faked.”

Her gaze jerked to his. This time she looked him up and down quite insolently. “You'd be amazed by what can be faked.”

He gave her the same once-over. “Perhaps.” He smiled. “I don't believe I've ever had the opportunity to learn much about that, however.”

“So certain of your prowess, are you? Or is it simply a lack of experience?”

He pushed away from the door frame. “Why don't I let you be the judge of that.”

She didn't so much as squirm when he walked into the room, despite being at a very distinct disadvantage. In fact, she easily held his gaze as he approached, her own demeanor far more that of someone conducting a boardroom coup than a woman presently shackled to a bed with little more than an ounce of silk keeping her dignity intact. Hell, Felicity Jane could have been completely naked, and somehow she'd still manage to appear as unruffled and in control as if she were the one doing the interrogating.

He should know.

It was one of the many complexities about her that he used as his excuse for acting so completely out of character whenever he got within five feet of her. He paused at the foot of the bed.

“I would be happy to recite the terms of endearment I used after we parted,” she informed him. “Nothing you haven't heard before, I'm certain.”

He sighed then. “At least I had the foresight to gag you. Although your uses for that bow tie from my tux were certainly more creative, I must say. Still, I'd thought myself so original, leaving you as I did.” He let his gaze slide slowly down her body, then just as slowly back up again. He was rewarded with a gleam in her green eyes that was only partially homicidal. “I do believe I left you with a little less modesty, though. Of course, given, well…everything, I suppose I didn't think you'd mind.”

“Oh, it was quite amusing, indeed. The poor bellman almost had heart failure when he came to collect my luggage. Gallant of you to send him, by the way.” The corners of her mouth twitched, and a real smile threatened.

And that was it. Right there. The reason Finn got himself into trouble whenever Felicity Jane was involved. She was the only woman he'd ever met who viewed the world with the same sort of detached amusement he did. The only difference—and it was a hefty one—was that his detachment came in handy in his line of work. Well, he supposed hers did, too. It was just, in his line of work, he had a vested interest in making sure the good guys won. As far as he could tell, in Felicity Jane's world, it was only important that Felicity Jane won.

“Yes, well, I had thought, perhaps, you could use a hand.”

“I'd forgotten what a charming bastard you could be.” She did smile now, and the warmth of it reached her eyes. But he was smart enough to know that all was not forgiven. Nor would it ever be. That was the other thing he liked about prowling around Felicity Jane. She kept him on his toes. Even when she was keeping him on his back. Maybe especially then.

“I'm wounded,” he said. “I'd hoped you hadn't forgotten a single thing about me.” He sat on the corner of the bed, by her feet. Her ankles had been bound with what looked like a man's silk tie. He fingered the edge of the silk without touching her skin. She didn't flinch or shift away from his touch. Not that she could have escaped him completely, but she could have made her feelings on the matter clear if she'd wanted to. He kept his gaze casually fixed on her ankles, though there was nothing remotely casual about the way his body was responding to her barely clad proximity.

Seeing her bound, even if it was with a monogrammed, designer silk tie, wasn't helping matters much, either. He wasn't normally into such things, but then, where the two of them were concerned, normal didn't often come into play. If ever. Play, however…that was something they knew more than a little about. And playing with Felicity Jane was as intoxicating as it was dangerous.

He flipped the end of the tie over her toes. “I see you still have a penchant for men's neckwear.” There was a slight roughness to his tone, one he knew damn well she would pick up on. Just as he knew she'd use every advantage she had with him. And she had more than a few.

He wished like hell that knowledge perturbed him a bit more than it did. Because, right at that very moment, he should have been interrogating her in order to figure out how best to continue tracking down the Byzantine piece.

Not entangling himself once again in Felicity Jane's very enticing web.

As if reading his mind—and he wasn't too certain she couldn't; it would go a long way toward explaining her uncanny ability to keep herself one step ahead of him—she lifted her foot and lightly stroked her perfectly painted toes along the inside of his wrist.

She waited until he looked at her, then smiled and said, “I wasn't nearly as creative with his tie as I was with yours.”

Finn's body sprang to full attention, just as she'd wanted it to. He forced himself to hold her gaze and tried to ignore the obvious bulge in his pants, knowing she wouldn't.

Two could play, however, and he knew right then he was definitely going to be one of them. He stroked a finger along the arch of her foot, well aware he was walking too fine a line to likely come out unscathed. And not particularly caring. It had been too long for him. Too long without putting his wants first, even for a night. And, if he was being completely honest, too long without someone like Felicity Jane.

And, as two long years of ultimately unfulfilling liaisons would attest, he'd learned that there was no one like Felicity Jane.

He trailed his fingers over the fine bones of her ankle, somewhat surprised his fingers weren't trembling a little. After all, he'd imagined this moment more times than he cared to admit, all the while never letting himself believe it would actually come to pass. They'd tangled only twice before, both of them during a time in his life he thought of now as purgatory, his life suspended between the one he'd always thought he'd be leading and the one he was leading now. It had been a time of dealing with his past, with his family, and discovering what he truly believed in. He had always known what he didn't want, which was a life like his father had led. One driven by greed and a hunger for more power. It had taken his father's death to teach him what he truly did want in life.

Now he had people counting on him, people who meant the world to him. He had a business to run, and work that was more important to him than anything he'd done before. Running Trinity, Inc., with his two closest friends, using his father's amassed wealth to help those who couldn't otherwise win against a system that was good, but not foolproof—the very same types his father had exploited whenever possible—was easily the most personal thing he'd ever done. And the most rewarding.

He lifted his gaze to hers, wondering just what he was putting at risk here. There was the inescapable sense that now that he had everything else in order, he'd simply been waiting for her, for this moment, all along. Which, considering how their past liaisons had ended, should have sent him bolting from the room, yet kept him riveted to the bed as if he were the one shackled to it, not her.

Her eyes flashed like bright sparkling gems themselves as he continued his slow exploration. Using only his fingertips, he drew them slowly up the back of her calf, watching as her pale skin glowed a soft pink across the bridge of her nose, before tinting her cheeks. An oh-so-innocent reaction, when he knew oh-so differently. In some ways, they were too much alike. Innocent didn't describe either of them. They'd done too much, seen too much. Just as she had to know he was already diamond hard and ready to pick up right where they left off in Prague, he knew that if he drew his fingertips along the creamy, endless length of her legs, he'd likely encounter a soaking wet strip of expensive silk stretched between them.

“A shame we can't see our way toward working together,” she said, her voice having also taken on a rather husky edge.

“A tempting offer,” he replied, surprised she'd made it. He'd made that offer before, but she was stubbornly independent. Never willing to so much as discuss the offer, much less take him into her confidence. He wondered if the offer now was an indication of how desperate she was. And if that was why she was tolerating his touch right now. Not because she'd been wanting this moment to happen as ridiculously much as he had.

“Temptation is something we both know more than a little about,” she said in a voice filled with all the carnal knowledge she had of him, making him twitch hard inside his now snug trousers.

He had to work to keep from adjusting his position. “True,” he managed. “However, my client wouldn't be too thrilled if I came home empty-handed. And your client—” He paused and stilled his fingers, too, then cocked his head. “Oh, that's right. You don't have a client.”

She held his gaze easily, her smile growing. “At least you credit me with the ability to come out the victor this go-around.”