For a brief moment, she did not move, and as the touch of their lips ended, she blinked, then whispered his name and pushed up on her toes, returning the kiss with a fervor of her own. Robert groaned and pulled her to him, crushing her lithe body against his. She flung her arms around his neck, holding on, pushing one hand into his hair, the fingers entwining in the curls and tugging gently. His highland bonnet flipped off his head and fluttered to the floor.
She did not feel like a woman at first, her lean body bound by the disguise. But as he ran his hands down her back, her bottom felt as soft and round and warm as any woman he’d ever held. Arousal shot through him, hardening him as he clutched her hips against his. As the tender mound between her legs was forced against his erection, Eloise moaned, a sound that resonated from her mouth into his as his tongue explored her, delving deep.
Robert’s passion for her seared through him like a scalding liquid, turning a yearning hunger into a driving need. The way she clung to him, her fingertips digging into his back, his neck, made him feel she desired him just as much. He wanted to strip her bare, free her from the bindings around her body, and feel her writhing beneath him with an unstoppable lust for all he could give her.
The door to the office burst open, a harsh bass voice calling, “Rob—”
The word snapped off as Robert shoved Eloise away from him, stumbling backwards. He spun toward the door, pushing her behind him, out of view, as he tried to regain his brain from the grip of a consuming desire.
Gilley stood in the door, mouth agape, staring at him.
“What is it?” Robert demanded.
Gilley shook his head as if to clear it. “You gotta come. Now. There’s trouble.”
Robert nodded, then looked behind him at the still stunned Eloise. Her face remained bright red with her need, and her whole body quaked. “Stay here,” he commanded, then motioned for Gilley to precede him. He took a deep breath, adjusted his clothes, called down the Robbie Green persona, and closed the door behind him.
*
Lady Eloise Surreywatched the door shut, then fumbled toward the edge of Bill Campion’s oversized desk, clinging to it for balance. She felt lightheaded, the dizziness that had begun under the power of Robert Ashton’s kisses abating slowly. It was unlike anything Eloise had ever felt—and she wanted more. She knew she should have pushed him away, even slapped him, for making such moves against her. But nothing she had ever been told, all the lessons in propriety she had ever learned had prepared her for the sense of deep-seatedneedthat had consumed her. Even as her shaking stopped and her breathing eased, she still felt flushed with the heat that had flowed over and into her under his touch. Heat that had left her warm and damp between her legs. Heat that she had become almost instantly addicted to—she desperately wanted to feel it all again.
Of course, Eloise had only ever been with one man before, and that had been... wrong. Wrong in more ways than she could count. All the ways she hoped she could someday forget, but had never been able to, even after all these years. No man had touched her since. Nor had she wanted them to. But was this what love really felt like? Is this what two people who are drawn together supposed to be like?
Perhaps Adrienne was right. And perhaps one way to forget those haunting memories would be to replace them with something more powerful.
Because what she felt in this moment was far more consuming than anything she had ever known. Eloise wanted more.
A raucous noise erupted from the gaming floor below, and she pushed away from the desk. She went to the window to look down on a nightmare. Several tables had been upended, and it seemed as if the entire assembly of people, more than a hundred gamblers and workers, had circled around two men—the red-headed Morgan and the green-clad Robbie Green. Several men behind Morgan tried to hold him away from Robbie, who stood defiantly—legs spread, shoulders back, and head level—but even from behind the glass Eloise could hear the outrageous shouts from the other man. Bill Campion stood closer to Morgan, his hands out as if he were trying to soothe the man, easing tensions. Morgan spit in Campion’s face.
Eloise’s strength shot through her, and she bolted for the door. Her boots slipped on the treads of the steep staircase, and she clung to the rail, slinging herself around it at the bottom. She hit the back of the crowd at a run, pushing and shoving her way through the bodies, many of them cursing at her as she slipped under arms and around hips, her agile body allowing her to ease through the crush like a child at a fair. Eloise burst out of the line of people behind Robbie, drawing to a halt, staring at Morgan. She wanted to memorize his face, hear his words. She knew deep in her soul that this man could lead her to Timothy. She wanted to know him the next time she saw him, wanted to be able to spot him in a crowd, confront him about Timothy.
Bill wiped his face, then motioned toward the big man who had burst into the office. “Gilley! Get him out of here.” He addressed the redhead. “Morgan, you’re banned from this establishment. Your debts are called. Come here again, and I’ll have you tossed out on the street.”
As Bill turned to walk away, Morgan shrugged off the hands holding him, reached inside his coat with both hands and drew out two pistols, aiming them at Robert.
Eloise screamed. “No!”
Morgan jerked toward her. “You! I know you! You will never find him!” He took a step and shifted one of the pistols, aiming for Eloise’s chest.
Bill, Robert, and Gilley all lunged for Morgan. Bill, the closest, drove his arm up, shoving the pistol high. The gun fired, the report echoing over the crowd, which began to scatter. All three men landed on Morgan, pummeling him to the ground, as a second shot sounded. Blows from Robert and Gilley continued to land on Morgan until bystanders began yanking them away.
Gilley sank back on his arse, his face pale, his knuckles bloody and raw. Morgan lay unconscious near him, his face an unrecognizable pulp. Robbie released a bellow of pure pain as he hovered over Bill, whose sprawled limbs writhed, a man in agony. Eloise took a few steps toward them, then dropped, her knees giving way from the horror before her.
A red splotch on Bill’s chest spread, like tentacles eking out from a parasitic monster. Blood oozed from the corner of his mouth, and one grasping hand grabbed Robbie by the neck, pulling his head down. Bill’s lips moved frantically, a man desperate to talk. His hand seemed to pulse on Robbie’s nape, then it grew still and slipped to the ground. Bill coughed once, then movement in his limbs and chest slowed. Stopped.
A moan began in Robbie’s throat, a dark sound that grew into a stark howl that careened off every surface, bringing all sound, all motion in Bill Campion’s Gentlemen’s Emporium to a halt. Bodies froze in place, every eye on the man in green.
Tears flooded down Eloise’s cheeks. Her deepest desire in that moment was to go to him, but she, too, remained frozen, listening to a sound that would haunt her the rest of her life.
Finally, Gilley—the big man—gestured to two of the guards. Gilley pulled Robbie to his feet as the others picked up Bill’s body. They headed upstairs to his office, Gilley and Robbie behind them. Robbie leaned against the guard as if he would collapse at any moment.
Around her the crowd began to disperse. Dealers closed the tables and gathered money and cards and equipment. Silence remained as trails of people headed for the exit. Eloise remained kneeling on the sawdust-covered floor, unable to stand. After a moment, she felt a hand on her shoulder, a tug on her arm.
“Stand up, dearie,” Lucy whispered. “Let’s get you out of here. You can stay in my room tonight.”
Eloise pushed off the floor, but almost dropped again as her quivering knees refused to hold her up. “I—I should go home.”
Lucy slid an arm around her, helping her to stand. “No, dearie. Not if you are who I think you are. Stay the night. Try to sleep. Clean up in the morning. We’ll get you home then.”
