Too Hot For A Rake. Pearl Wolf

out some sort of bundle. A thief. No doubt about it, he thought, as the culprit dropped the bundle to the ground and sprang nimbly after it.

      Waverley stepped quietly behind a tree. With the patience born of years of caution, caution that had kept him alive through countless exploits, he slowed his breathing, readied his body, and waited. The thief peered from left to right, then hoisted the bag and lumbered toward the street. As soon as he passed the tree, Waverley grabbed him in a choke hold.

      “What the…?”

      Stunned into surprise, Waverley pulled off the thief’s cap.

      A woman? He let her go and she fell. “Lady Fairchild? I recognized you by the scent of your perfume. Verbena, isn’t it? We meet again, it seems.”

      He yanked her to her feet so hard, she was forced to put her hands on his chest to keep from falling again. Instead of letting go, he let his arms drift to her waist, but she knocked them away. “I’ll thank you to keep your hands to yourself, my lord. And stop sniffing my hair.”

      He put up his hands as if in surrender and backed away. “I meant no harm, but the odor is enticing, I confess.”

      She brushed off the leaves that clung to her clothing, pulled her tucked gown out from her pantalets and smoothed her skirt as best she could.

      He picked a twig out of her hair and breathed in. “Sorry, ma’am. Your scent drives me to distraction.”

      “Stop that. Apparently, you are in the habit of seducing young ladies, sir.”

      Waverley swallowed a laugh. “Am I? In that case, perhaps I ought to live up to my…reputation.”

      “Take your hands off me, you rake! How ungentlemanly of you.”

      “How unladylike of you, ma’am, to have woken me in such a manner and with such feeling a mere few hours ago. You find me here because it was not possible to go back to sleep. Do you make a habit of climbing in and out of windows at the most unseemly hours?”

      Helena wavered. “If you must know, I have…urgent business elsewhere. And there is no need to wake the whole household.”

      He was pleased to see a blush spread across her cheeks. The damp air had caused her hair to stick to her face and his fingers itched to push the strands away from her cheek. “The same business that brought you to my bed earlier?”

      “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s none of your—it’s a personal matter.” She hoisted her portmanteau and turned to leave.

      “Ah, a sick aunt, perhaps? How are you planning to get where you need to go to conduct this urgent business? Walk?” Her face had the look of an adorable child caught in a fib.

      Helena ignored this remark and glanced both ways at the deserted street. “Where do you suppose one finds a hackney for hire?”

      “Perhaps at the end of this row of town houses. But I can’t allow my host’s er…neighbor to seek a hackney without protection. London is far too dangerous a place for an unaccompanied gentlewoman. Allow me.” Waverley offered his arm.

      “No! I…I mean, thank you for offering to assist me, but I can manage very well on my own.”

      He raised one finger and tilted his head. “Or I could throw you over my shoulder, carry you to your door, ring the bell and return you to your family where you belong.” He regretted his teasing words the moment they left his lips, for she turned pale.

      “I was only quizzing you, ma’am. I promise you I’ll do no such thing. Come,” he added in a gentler voice, offering his arm for the second time. “Won’t you honor my er…gentlemanly good intentions? We shall search for a hackney together.”

      She hesitated but finally rested her hand on his arm. He took charge of her portmanteau and led her down the street where he thought he might find a hackney for hire.

      Persuaded that he meant her no harm, she relaxed and sought refuge in small talk. “You don’t live in London, do you? If you did, I would have met you on more than one occasion, I’m sure.”

      “No, I don’t. I was born in England, but I haven’t lived here for years. I’ve lived in Paris since the end of the war. That’s where Darlington found me. I’m to succeed to my father’s title, you see. The ceremony will take place at Carlton House tomorrow morning.”

      “Accept my good wishes, then.”

      “Ah, here comes a hack. Let us hope there is no one in it and he is for hire.” He raised his hand to hail the driver.

      The carriage came to a stop in front of them. Waverley looked up and spoke to the driver. “Please take my lady to…where shall I tell him to take you?”

      “It’s…I’ll tell him when we’re under way.”

      He gave an indifferent shrug. “Suit yourself.”

      “Thank you, Lord Waverley, for your kind assistance.”

      “That’s too formal for such an intimate acquaintance, don’t you think? Call me Desmond.”

      “I barely know you, sir. It wouldn’t be proper.”

      He bit back a laugh. “Barely know me? Let me remind you, ma’am, that a mere few hours ago, you attempted to seduce me. Does that not lessen the need for formality?”

      She blushed. “All right. But I shan’t call you by your given name. Waverley will do. I thank you for your assistance.”

      “Fare thee well, irresistible Helena.” Without warning, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her, his tongue teasing her lips open.

      She struggled and managed to push him away. “How dare you, you…you rake!”

      He grinned, the look on his face impish. “Reformed rake, if you please. Show some respect for my new title, ma’am.”

      Helena pursed her lips to conceal her amusement. “Quite a rapid reformation, sir. Just last week, all of Paris knew you as le roué Anglais.”

      “You have me there, lovely lady. But I am determined to earn respectability now that I’ve come home again. Do you know, your lips taste like fine wine, fair Helena?”

      “You shouldn’t have kissed me, your lordship.”

      “Waverley. You shouldn’t have kissed me, Waverley.”

      She suppressed the urge to giggle. “As you wish. You shouldn’t have kissed me, Waverley.”

      “Think of it as payment for my assistance to you on this”—he glanced at the rising sun—“magnificent morning. While I must bid you a satisfactory resolution to your urgent business, I want you to know I shall always treasure the memory of a stolen kiss on my far from deserving lips.” He handed her into the carriage and shut the door. “Drive on, my good man. The lady will tell you her destination once you are under way.”

      He watched until the carriage had turned the corner. Perhaps he should have convinced her not to run away, but far be it for him to interfere with someone else’s life. He had enough to do to manage his own.

      The sun rose as Waverley walked back to Darlington’s town house. There was much to do this morning. He did not mind the pomp of a formal investiture with the Regent. It was his meeting at the home office he dreaded. He wished it were over and done with, but he tried to shake off such uneasy thoughts.

      So long as his grandmother was alive, he’d do everything in his power to care for her. When he was a lad, she had loved him well. Of that at least, he had no doubt. Would she even know him now, or had she lost her memory? He didn’t know what he would face when he reached Waverley Castle, truth be known.

      He shrugged off these depressing thoughts when his stomach growled, forcing the demons of the past out of his mind. Instead he obeyed the message of his stomach and returned to Darlington’s home, wondering what treats his host’s excellent cook had prepared for his breakfast.