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She slammed her heel against his shin.
“Damnation,” he muttered.
Her teeth caught at his hand. He yanked it away. She had scarcely an instant to draw breath for a scream before his knife was out and resting lightly upon her throat. She stilled.
“That’s better,” he said. “Now listen to me, damn you.”
“Bastard,” she breathed.
“I love you,” he said. “I’ve loved you from the moment you jammed your elbow into my belly. I loved you that night in Calcutta and after, on the ship. I loved you after you stole back your sandalwood princess, even while I hated you and wanted to strangle you. I loved you the whole time in Yorkshire while I plotted to get it back. And I loved you when you held a gun to my heart and stole the pearl and your princess away again.”
She made a slight movement. He pulled his arm more tightly against her waist to mould the length of her back firmly to him. She gasped, but subsided against him.
“I have always loved you,” he continued angrily. “I can’t help that I’ve behaved like an unscrupulous, dishonourable, obstinate swine the whole time, because that’s what I am. Damn it, Amanda, can’t you understand? You understand everything.”
“I understand,” she answered breathlessly. “I just wasn’t sure you did. Will you please put away the knife? It makes me nervous.”
“If I put it away, I’ll be nervous.”
“You? The Falcon? You’re not afraid of anything.”
He sighed. “Except closets. And you. I’m scared to death of you, Amanda. I’m terrified you’ll say ‘No’.”
“To what?” He heard laughter in her voice.
His eyes narrowed. She was a deal too much like her cousin, he decided as he took the blade away and let it fell to the ground. He turned her to face him then gathered her close. She didn’t struggle. Why should she? She knew he’d never hurt her. She knew why he’d come. She’d been waiting for him, waiting to get even. The little she-cat had tormented him... deliberately. Yet she’d forgiven him, and that was all that mattered.
“I want a wife,” he said. “A Lady Falcon to come with me to Derbyshire to make the great, lonely area I’ve inherited a home. And fill it with disobedient, insolent, deceitful, thieving little brats.”
“My children,” she loftily informed him, “will not be bratty little thieves.”
“Why not? Their father’s a thief. Their mother as well.”
She shook her head. “I refuse to live in a menagerie of wild beasts. I have books to write. I need order and peace. Quiet, angelic children. And a very good secretary.”
“I’m an excellent secretary,” he pointed out, “nearly as good as I am a thief.”
Slowly she raised trusting golden eyes to him, and his heart ached with tenderness.
“The thief is a dreadful man,” she said. “But the secretary is a superior being. I can’t finish my book without him. I’ve tried, Mr. Brentick. It’s no good.”
“I’m not Mr. Brentick.”
“You’re everybody to me, Falcon. All the world. My tassel-gentle,” she added softly. Her hand slid up his chest, then farther up, to stroke his cheek.
He turned his face to kiss her palm. He’d never been gentle with her before, it seemed. He meant to, this time, but the scent of her skin sapped his reason. Silk rustled under his hands, and beneath it moved a warm, beckoning body. He pulled her closer and hungrily captured her mouth. He tasted sweet fruit and smoke. That was she. Light and shadow. Innocence and sin. Joy and madness.
The taste of her raced through his veins like sweet, hot honey. The more he drank of her, the more he burned with thirst. A long moment after, he broke away to rest his cheek against hers. “I want you,” he said thickly. “Now. You can come willingly... or I’ll steal you.”
He heard her low, throaty chuckle. “The Falcon must do what he does best,” she murmured.
He grinned. Then he swept her up in his arms, and carried her deep into the shadows.
In the carved vetiver doorway, a man and a woman stood. The man’s arm circled the woman’s shoulders. Her dark head rested serenely upon his breast.
“I’ll have to put a stop to it,” Lord Hedgrave said. “He can’t ravish Lord Cavencourt’s sister in the garden.”
“Indeed, he cannot,” the Lioness agreed composedly. “My cousin will not permit this. She will merely torment him and send him away. And he will return for more torment. Men,” she said with a sigh. “Like children.”
He smiled. “Women,” he returned. “Like devils. Perhaps I was wrong to bring him with me.”
“He would have come regardless.”
“Yes, and I didn’t trust him alone in his state. Not a vessel was to be had that day. If I hadn’t taken him in hand and quieted him down, I daresay the poor devil would have rowed to Calcutta.”
“He left it late enough,” the princess said.
“What was he to do, with a half-dead peer on his hands? Though I rather suspect he remained with me primarily to keep me from dashing off after his darling,” the marquess added with a chuckle.
“Perhaps his heart understood your fate was linked with his. In any case, he has found the jewel his heart sought. Her love will fill his life with joy.”
“But a thief, Nalini?” he teased. “Don’t you think you might have done better by her?”
“He was for her,” came the confident answer. “It was meant to be. I saw it in his eyes, just as I saw through his false garb. Tall, strong, and passionate, as I had promised her.” She glanced up at her long-lost lover. “Like you.”
