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  “A thief and a liar, and no good at either,” he spoke when she was within his reach causing her to whirl around and stare at him. She started to bolt but he caught her arm and pulled her to his side. “Now you and I are going to spend a little time together so we can get to the truth.”

  Chapter Two

  Elle stumbled when she was released and shoved forward into the tiny room of the inn. Her heart pounded in her chest as she whirled to face the man who’d forced her there and retreated until her back hit the wall behind her. She knew him. And to her horror, he remembered her too. She would have to think fast and hope the devil that stepped into the room and closed the door behind him wouldn’t kill her.

  She held up her hands, hoping he would cease his advance on her and give her time to think her way out of the situation but his stride didn’t slow until her outstretched palms connected with his chest and pushed them back so that he stood just inches from her.

  Frowning, she tried to shove at his chest with no success in budging him. She glanced to her right at the table next to the bed. If she could get to the lantern she might use it as a weapon, not that she was certain she could do much damage, but it might allow her enough time to escape.

  To return to what, she argued with herself. Lewis? Another beating? She shoved at him again but he was solid and wouldn’t move.

  “Are you finished?” He planted his hands on either side of her head, leaning close. “Because I would like to know why the hell you and that inn owner are in London thieving when he owns the Portsmouth Buckle Inn. Who sent you here?”

  Elle stared at him. “Lewis sold the Bucket two weeks after you’d been there. That’s all I know.” She licked her lips as a thought came to her. “Well, I do know something else.” She took a deep breath, hoping she wasn’t making a mistake.

  “Your name is Michael Ashton. You arm had been cut off. You were in great pain and I tried to help you as much as I could. I saw you had the devil’s eyes and wept for you when I thought you had died.” She didn’t look away from his unblinking glare, hoping he didn’t guess the fear that pumped through her veins. “I didn’t tell what I’d seen, told no one that you came in with but one arm and left with two. A week later a man came asking about Michael Ashton and gave your description, said your arm had been damaged. Lewis beat me and so I told him of your eyes but still told them nothing of your arm.”

  At least he was listening, she told herself, so she continued. “Four months ago, Lewis beat me again. He’d learned of your return to London and that you had no injured arm. He beat me for lying to him.” She lifted her chin and forced hardness into her voice, “So I believe I have suffered enough on your behalf that I don’t deserve being dragged around London by you over a few stolen coins!” She shoved at him again and to her surprise, this time he took a small step backwards.

  She wasted no time and lunged to the right, grasping the lantern and swung it. But despite his size he moved quickly, dodging the strike so that her weapon merely cracked against the wall. A moment later, one large hand curled around her wrist, squeezing until she dropped the lantern, while the other dragged her against him. She tried to jerk her head backwards, hoping to connect with his nose but he avoided injury. In desperation, she raised the heel of her shoe and brought it back into shin. She heard his grunt and delivered a second kick, this time, his grasp on her wrist loosened and she drew back her elbow and slammed it into his face.

  Free! She darted towards the door and had almost reached it when a growl sounded behind her and in the next moment, his heavy body forced hers to the floor. Flipping her over, he straddled her, his legs pinning hers, hands pushing her wrists above her head. The corner of his mouth was red and bleeding and she wished desperately she’d knocked out a tooth.

  “The man who bought the Buckle Inn - what was his name?” Michael gritted down at her.

  “I don’t know.” She struggled to free herself.

  “Was it the same man who came asking about me?”

  “I don’t…” she stopped her struggles when she realised he wasn’t going to hit her back and took a breath. “Get off of me or I won’t tell you anything else at all.”

  “Tell me or I’ll smother the life out of you,” he countered.

  “Damnation! I’ll get your purse back!” She yelled up at him.

  “This is not about a few coins, woman. I want to know if the man that sent you here was the bastard that cut my arm off!” His nose flared slightly and to her surprise his hands released hers and he pushed himself up and off of her. “Get up.”

  She scrambled from her feet and moved backwards, away from him. She watched him reach for the lantern, set it on the table, and light the wick. While she’d cracked the casing, the oil had not spilled and it still worked. Light filled the small room and as he turned, his shadow cast across the wall behind him, large and almost intimidating as the man himself.

  “You are a devil. I saw your eyes. You’ve brought me here to kill me. Why should I tell you anything at all?” She pointed a finger at him.

  “I am not going to kill you.” He wiped at his mouth, frowning at the blood on his fingers. Elle wasn’t certain she could trust that he was telling the truth. She watched him drag the wooden chair in front of the door and sit down. The wood groaned beneath his weight but did not give.

  “I am going to keep you here until you tell me what I want to know.” He crossed his arms and stretched his legs out in front of him. She realised that as long as she had something he needed he wasn’t going to do anything. It gave her an upper hand.

  “I’m hungry.”

  Those blue eyes narrowed. “Then talk.”

  “I can’t remember anything with an empty stomach.” She lifted her chin defiantly. She saw his jaw tighten but he stood and stepped around the chair, opened the door, and called out for food. Elle jumped forward, grasped the chair, and had raised it when he turned pointing a finger at her.

  “Don’t. I warn you. While I don’t want to hurt you, by God I will if you strike me with that chair.”

  For a moment she considered hitting him with it anyway. But that would be stupid. Slowly, she lowered the chair. He grasped it and jerked it away from her as he closed the door. But he didn’t sit. Instead he stood there, arms crossed, glaring at her.

  “I was afraid when I discovered your arm was healed,” she said after a moment of silence. “I ran and didn’t come back to the Buckle until the next evening. Lewis thought I’d left with you. He was angry, and beat me for whoring and keeping the money from him. He didn’t recognise you tonight though.”

  “Tell me about the man who asked about me.”

  She bit her lip, gaze dropping to his right arm. “Tell me what happened to your arm.”

  Silence filled the room for several long seconds. “I attacked one of his ships just off the coast but he retaliated quickly. His men were doubled and ready. My arm was cut off in fight and I was dumped into the sea. And it was there, bleeding, I watched the bastard burn my ship. I was left to die so I swam to shore.”

  Elle stared at him. “With but one arm? That must have…”

  “Hurt like hell. The Buckle Inn was the first place I came to.” He turned when someone rapped on the door behind him. Elle watched him take the tray of food and closed the door again. He stepped forward, set the tray on the bed, and nodded towards it.

  “Eat.”

  She waited until his step carried him back to the door and he leant against the solid wood before she moved forward to swipe a bowl of the soup. She ate hungrily. Lewis never gave her much, preferring to keep her weakened so that she was more inclined to do as he wished. She was grateful she was allowed to eat her fill before Michael Aston began his questions again.

  “Now tell me about the man who asked about me. Was his name Hurst?”

  “No.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You are certain?”

  “His name was McKenzie.” She watched his eyes harden.

  “I knew it. McKen
zie is one of Hurst’s men. ” He kicked at the chair and sent it tumbling across the room. She remained sitting on the bed as his hands opened and closed at his sides.

  “I could go to Lewis. When he sleeps, I could look through his desk. I could find the name of the man who bought the Buckle.” She watched him, thinking he looked like an animal about to attack but some of her fear of him was ebbing away. He was angry that she’d stolen from him. That took away much of the danger she’d feared for herself.

  “Lewis cares for you?”

  Elle laughed at that. It was too absurd to take seriously.

  “I’m afraid I give you no power over him. Since we’ve moved here, he’s found several new women to work for him. He might be angry if something was to happen to me but the next day, he would move one of the others in with him.” She shrugged.

  “How do you know that for certain?”

  “It’s what he did before. The one he used most died. The next day, I was moved into the Buckle. He had me tutored and I became his new favourite.”

  “You are his lover?”

  Elle scowled. “His slave. He owns me. He owns others. We do what he says or we get beaten and used. But,” she bit her lip as a plan suddenly formed, “if I help you, you could help me. If he was sent away, out of the way, I’d have enough to start new for myself.”

  “I could kill him tonight and find the documents myself,” Michael countered.

  “The apartment is his set-up from which he can run his street business with his women.” She began to see a light in the small room, one that could give her freedom for the life she’d lived since she was a girl. “He has many other places. As his favourite, I am privileged to often accompany him to those buildings. It would be easy enough to go through his papers and see if any of them could lead me to the whereabouts of the man you call Hurst.”

  He pushed off from the door and stepped towards the bed. She could see she had his attention with her quickly devised plan. The lantern light played shadows across the wide planes of his face as he regarded her in silence.

  “And why should I trust you to do any of what you say to help me?” His eyes narrowed. “What do you have to gain?”

  “After you find Hurst, you will make Lewis sign over his holding to me and free me. Show him your devil eyes and scare the hell out of him so that he leaves London and never returns.” She couldn’t help the feeling of triumph that began to grow in her chest. She’d attempted to escape Lewis Brisby in the past, to no avail. This time, there might be a chance for success.

  The man before her showed no expression and she couldn’t decide how close, if at all, he was to agreeing to her plan. Her hopes started to plummet when he shook his head and turned.

  “Forgive me if I find it hard to trust a woman who makes her living stealing and lying to others.”

  She stared at the back of his dark head then reached down and pushed up the hem of her skirt, exposing some of her calf. “How am I any less trustworthy than a devil with yellowed eyes that plots murder right before me?”

  He grunted and glanced back at her, his attention instantly dropping to her legs. Slowly his gaze lifted back to her face. There was tension there but he made no move towards her. Damnation! No matter how much of a devil, he could not be without some desire. What did he want? She’d have to find out if she wished to convince him to go along with her plan. She slowly stood, readying to push at him until she saw a break in his expression.

  “I’ll expose you.” She lifted her chin when he continued to regard her evenly. “I’ll tell everything I know.”

  His head tilted to the side and the brow above his left eyes raise. “Are you threatening me?” She shrugged, lifting her hand so that her fingers ran along the rough wood of the wall as she moved to the corner opposite of him, putting as much distance between them as possible.

  “I know your secret. I’ll be hysterical, frightened, weeping. What does a thief have to gain by going to officials to report a monster in the streets of London? They’ll believe me when I tell them what you are.” She watched him advance a few steps. “They’ll pull Hurst in when they learn you mean to kill him. What do you think he will do? Deny the story I’ve told? The only reason you would be looking for him would be because he didn’t want to be found by you.”

  “And how will you tell them anything at all when I cut out your tongue?”

  “They’ll go to your home. Have you a wife? She would be interrogated far more roughly than you did so with me moments ago. Have you a family? What would it do to them?” She pressed and at long last, she found the break she was looking for. Those eyes darkened and his strong jaw tightened so she pounced.

  “If they are any kind of family they will try to protect you and when they do, they will be arrested and accused of being devils too. What do you think will happen to them?” She took a step back but he moved far more quickly than she’d anticipated. His hand connected with her chest and pushed her all the way to the wall.

  “I believe you’ve just reached the end of my patience,” he warned quietly.

  “It can all be avoided if we work together.” She knew he could most likely feel her heart pounding in her chest. “I can help you. You know I can. You already know there is a connection between Lewis and Hurst. It’s McKenzie. I can give you your revenge. You have much more to lose by not trusting me.” She grew silent and waited. Maybe she’d pushed too far.

  “You will do as you said and search your owner’s papers and bring your findings to me. You will do it quietly. You will not tell anyone anything you think you know about me or my family.” He let his hand fall from her chest so he could step into the space between them, his gaze never leaving hers. “Do you understand?”

  She took a shaking breath, forcing herself to remain solid. “I will…if.” She closed the last step between them despite her thumping heart, in an attempt to show him she would not be backed against the wall and intimidated. “If…you agree to do as I have proposed. I want my freedom just as madly as you want Hurst. A murdering devil and an untrustworthy thief can surely appreciate a bargain where they both get what they want.”

  She blinked when his gaze softened. Something that looked like amusement glittered in his eyes. Amusement and maybe even respect. Hope rose again.

  “You are unrelenting and stupidly brave,” he said after a moment.

  “I am not stupid,” she countered, “And neither am I unrelenting. I am willing to allow you have more than what I have offered you already as proof that I mean to uphold all that I have said I would do.”

  “Anything I want, I could take,” he said as his gaze dropped to the bodice of her dress.

  “Would you not rather have it given willingly?” She lowered her lashes, “Have me come to you, and beg you to do as you wished?”

  “You would not beg.” He reached out and lifted her chin so she had to lift her lashes and look at him. “I could pay any prostitute outside to come to me willing and beg me.”

  “But I have seen your true nature, Michael. Would you have them so easily if any of them had seen that side of you, chance those devil eyes glowing at them?” She shook her head. “I doubt you would find someone so easily bought. Not one who would do anything you wanted, who would welcome you to be as rough as you liked, who would not expect tenderness and feigned affection just to get what you wanted.”

  “Anything?” he murmured.

  She touched his arms and slid her hands up to his shoulders. “I will do anything you wish.” She saw his attention drop to her mouth and purposely licked her lips. “I am yours to have anyway you like. Is that enough of an offer to buy my freedom?”

  Chapter Three

  Michael could not deny the wench tempted him and was certain he’d never met a woman who would not surrender no matter how dangerous the circumstances. She’d fought at him like a wildcat, refusing, despite the fear he’d seen in her eyes, to allow him to intimidate her into backing down. She’d used her words as her weapons when he’d
taken her physical ones away and now turned her body into the most dangerous weapon of all.

  It wasn’t much she was asking of him, a chance at a life where she did not belong to another. Normally he didn’t become involved in the lives of those who were not his family or not his responsibility. She was making it damnably hard for him to discard her situation, not only because she could be useful to his finding Hurst, and not only because she’d not left him those months ago and whispered words to help chase away his pain, but mostly because of the grit on her spine.

  “You are too thin,” he said when her hands slipped beneath the lapels of his coat and to push the wool over his shoulders. “And I prefer brunettes.” Now he was lying.

  “I’m sure you can find some way to overlook your disgust.” Her sarcasm was thick as she tugged the coat down until his arms were free. It wasn’t completely for his benefit. He’d felt the shift in the tension when he’d warned her not to hit him with the chair. She’d been fearful of him before but now he could smell her arousal as her hands grasped his shirt and began tugging it free from his trousers. He stood there without lifting his arms to offer her assistance and after a moment she met his gaze as she reached up and grasped the collar of his shirt. With one jerk, she ripped the front of the shirt in half.

  Mother of God. He sucked in his breath sharply when she spread her palms flat on his chest, then scratched her nails through the hair. She didn’t hide the fact that his reaction pleased her for a smug little smile curled in the corners of those full lips and she pushed the ruined shirt over his shoulders. The wench knew she’d won.

  “You will not tell me what you secretly desire? What if I were to share a secret with you?” Her nails glided against his sides as she moved closer, tilting her head upwards so she could whisper in his ear, “In Portsmouth, I thought your body flawless and your face handsome. You are so male and perfect.” Her words fuelled his reaction and his cock hardened. He swallowed when she leant forward and licked at his shoulder, humming softly against his skin.