that reason. They have not succeeded. How can I possibly do worse? And how can I return to Ireland knowing that vile man is still free? Free to come after me. Free to debauch other innocent women.”
“You think we failed you.” Anger coupled with something darker crossed his handsome features. “Then surely you can see the folly in putting yourself in harm’s way.”
“Mr. Henley is in hiding. He is no threat to me as long as I am in society because he will not risk being seen. I only want to discover if anyone knows where he can be found. I promise you, Mr. Hunter, I will give you that information the moment I have it.”
“You will …” He looked at her in disbelief and raked his fingers through his dark hair. “Damn it, the only thing you should do is go home to Ireland!”
She stood and turned toward the terrace doors and the ballroom. She hadn’t taken more than a single step when he seized her arm and spun her around as he stepped forward. The momentum landed her squarely against his chest and she was forced to look up to see his expression—fury and frustration. “I don’t give a fig where you think I should go!” she exclaimed.
“Don’t you see the danger? Don’t you know what the mere sight of you does to a man? “
She opened her mouth to ask what he meant, but it was too late. His left arm went around her to hold her captive while his right hand cupped the back of her head, preventing her from turning away.
His mouth came down on hers with desperation she could feel in every line of his body. His lips were challenging, not punishing. They were firm, warm and tinged with sweet wine. His tongue slipped along the seam of her lips, urging hers to open. Not knowing why, she did, and his moan was the answer. She brought her fists up, intending to push him away, but her hands opened and slipped around his neck. She had never felt anything as exciting as this before and she was dizzy with the heady sensation.
Surer now, more confident, he softened his assault to coax an answering moan from her. She scarcely recognized her own voice in that sigh. He pulled her closer, pressing her along the length of him until she could feel something as firm and unyielding as his chest pressing against her lower abdomen. Oh, how she wanted more of that feeling! Encouraged, he deepened the kiss and Gina knew she was being branded, claimed, owned entirely by this man. Only James Hunter could have robbed her of the will to resist.
Heavenly and wicked at the same time. Now she understood. She couldn’t move, couldn’t break the spell of his arms, and she didn’t want to. No, she never wanted this kiss to end. She was breathless at the way her breasts tingled as they pressed against his chest and at the way a needful ache bloomed where his erection burned into her. She wanted him. She needed him.
He released her with a choked groan and stepped back, leaving her to stagger without his support. “You…you have my apologies, Miss O’Rourke.”
She spun around and ran for the terrace door. He must never know what that kiss had done to her. Never see it in her eyes or read it on her face. She’d been ready to surrender everything to him when he’d only kissed her to shut her up or teach her a lesson. Well, he’d never have that opportunity again!
Chapter Six
Gina was certain there was some trace of that kiss visible to the guests in the ballroom. She was changed somehow, and there would have to be a sign of that. She glanced toward Hortense and Harriett, who were laughing and fanning themselves flirtatiously while engaged in conversation with at least five young men. How could she join them when her heart was still racing so?
She glanced around for a familiar face, someone she could talk to. Where had Miss Race gone? She’d promised to bring Mr. Metcalfe. A quick glance around the ballroom revealed that the girl was not dancing. In fact, she could find no trace of her. Surely she wouldn’t have left without a word?
A flash of green caught her attention and she watched as Miss Race entered the ballroom from a terrace door. She paused to pat her hair into place and sweep a gaze about the room. When she saw Gina, she gave a small smile and a nod as she came toward her.
She was flushed when she took Gina’s hand and led her into the corridor. “I looked for you, Gina, but you disappeared. Stanley was here, but he could not stay.”
She tried to hide her dismay. “I…I have missed him?”
“He said he knew who you were and was willing to help you, but he does not like to stay too long in any place.”
“Has he always been like that, Christina?”
The girl frowned. “Only since…the middle of summer. It is as if he is afraid something will happen if he stays too long.”
Could Mr. Metcalfe be trying to avoid Mr. Henley, too? But Mr. Henley would never attend a ball—too brazen, and too many people knew him. Or did Mr. Metcalfe fear the authorities were after him? What a hopeless muddle.
Gina squeezed Christina’s hands. “Did he say how he could help me? “
“Oh, yes.” She rummaged in her little beaded reticule, pulled a small object out and pressed it into Gina’s hand. “I was to give you this, and tell you that he will find you at a more opportune time. I took the liberty of telling him I have been invited to attend the Morris masquerade three days hence, and that you will be there with Hortense and Harriett. He said we should look for a leper.”
Leper? That would mean a black hooded robe and bell about his neck. He should be easy enough to find. “Three days? Could I not speak to him sooner?”
“I am afraid not. He said he had much to do. Now, you must excuse me. I should return to my party.”
Gina tried to hide her impatience as Christina hurried away to join a group of young people who were preparing to leave. Almost forgotten in her disappointment, she looked down and opened her hand. A key? Pray, what did it open?
Throw down the gauntlet? What a bloody good idea that turned out to be! Instead of basking in triumph with little Miss Eugenia packing for home, Jamie was the one who’d been defeated with a kiss and at the mercy of a sweet-smelling nymph who gave as good as she got. Gave better, actually. And the accusation that the Home Office—he—had failed her ripped through his heart. It was bad enough to fear it himself, but to hear her say it was a confirmation of all his worst fears.
He riffled through the papers on his desk at the Home Office looking for his notes, certain there would be something to either bolster his case or tell him where Henley was hiding. Fast. He had to end this before Henley came after Eugenia. There had to be something he had overlooked. Something so subtle that it had escaped him.
“Good Lord! You take to abandoning me at balls and I find you working into the wee hours! What has happened to you, Jamie? All work and no play is not like you.”
He glanced up to see Charlie leaning against the doorjamb, his arms folded over his chest and looking for all the world as if he’d just slept twelve hours. “Not like you,” Jamie corrected. “What are you are doing here—and do not tell me you were trying to find me.”
Charlie shrugged and came to sit in the chair across the desk from him. “My mind wanders. You know how easily bored I am. And I’m looking for company. I hate to carouse alone.”
Jamie finally pushed his papers aside and gave his brother his attention. “You haven’t been carousing, Charlie. You’re far too fresh for that. Come clean.”
He grinned. “Not precisely carousing. But I’ve certainly been in that part of town. I met Devlin at the Crown and Bear.”
“Lilly will not thank you for leading him astray.”
“Me? Perish the thought. I am merely learning from the master.”
“Master of what? Are you taking up a life of crime?”
His grin faded as he sat forward in his chair. “I am trying to decipher Devlin’s sources,