Watching the seagulls circling down below, she envied them their ability to fly while shewas presently restricted to keeping her feet on the ground. Then something red caught her eye. Waving briefly, a quick hello, before scarpering off and disappearing. She shot to her feet. “Oh, it’s my balloon!”
“Slow down!” Langdon yelled.
The daft woman was going to break her lovely neck the way she was scrambling over the rough terrain in an effort to get to the small cove where he’d found her last night. Following in her wake, he’d already yelled at her several times to hold on, but she failed to heed his words, the stubborn wench. She was as independent a woman as he’d ever known.
Intriguing and secretive, no doubt grateful the bit of cloth that had made its quick appearance had given her an excuse not to finish her tale. He wanted to know exactly how she had gone from knocking on the door at Buckingham Palace to warming Hollingsworth’s bed. He was striving not to be jealous but had the sense he was failing miserably. He didn’t want to return her to London, didn’t want to envision Hollingsworth there waiting for her to escort him to her bedchamber.
It was more than lust, more than physical attraction driving his thoughts. He was beginning to enjoy her company, especially when she opened up and shared parts of herself with him. He’d always envisioned that a woman who used her body for currency would be more callous and pragmatic, for surely a hard life had influenced her decisions. Yet in spite of her father being unworthy of siring her,she hoped he’d flown over a rainbow into a kinder existence.
Whereas Langdon wanted to beat the man bloody for his deception.
He also understood how a man falsely claiming to be a lord could be believed and revered by those of a small village far from London. He’d certainly never bothered to memorize every title. And a man with no coins in his coffers—there were merchants and shopkeepers so enamored of having the nobility as customers that they would never stoop so low as to actuallyasktheir idol to pay up. Although he did have to wonder if her father had failed to return because his ruse had been discovered or his debts were in danger of seeing him in debtor’s prison.
For her sake, as much as he didn’t like the thought, he did rather hope the man had met an accidental end so she would at least be spared ever learning that her father was far worse than she imagined.
He skidded the last few feet to the beach and dashed around the outcropping behind which her balloon—and she—had disappeared. He found her on her knees, running her hands over long strips of cloth, each a different color—a brilliant red, blue, or purple—and he fought not to imagine her running her hands over him in the same manner. Her motions were almost loving, tender, as though she were examining wounds and expected the recipient of them to yell out in pain at any moment. Nearby, still attached to the balloon portion, was the basket, lying against a mound of rocks. Shattered and broken.
As she might have been.
Cold dread shivered through him, and he had a strong urge to pull her away from the blasted thing and order her to never again take such risks. He crouched beside her. “It doesn’t look salvageable.”
“The basket, no,” she said in a mournful tone, “but the cloth I can repair.”
“The cloth alone isn’t going to get you off the island.”
She looked at him. “Of course not. I’ll need your boat for that. You did say you’d take me to the mainland when the water was calmer. I’m not in a hurry, however. It’s rather nice to be away from the madness of it all. Is that the reason you come here? For the peace and the quiet and the isolation?”
Possibly at first, but now it was more so no one could hear his cries when the nightmares came. “Here, mamas can’t toss their daughters my way, expecting me to catch them.”
“How horrible indeed, to be so spoiled for choice.”
“You are. You could have any man in London you wanted.”
“Not at first. Oddly, it was Hollie who taught me how to ensure I had options when it came to my benefactor. Do you have a knife?”
The sudden change in topic took him aback, especially as he’d been considering how he might convince her Hollingsworth didn’t deserve her loyalty. He’d obviously taken advantage... although Langdon had always known the earl to be a decent chap. “I do.”
“Help me detach the basket.”
He almost told her the price would be a kiss, but he wasn’t fool enough to do that. He imagined one of the things Hollingsworth had taught her was how to pretend enjoyment. No, he wanted her begging for it.
While he sawed through the ropes that held the balloon fast to the basket, Marlowe wrung out small portions of the silk that made up the balloon. So many little rips and tears. A few large ones. Occasionally looking over at the basket where Langdon worked caused her stomach to knot up. She was damned fortunate she hadn’t arrived on shore as crushed as the wicker. It was a sad, pitiful heap of broken dreams.
She wasn’t altogether certain that dreams could be mended. Perhaps it was best to search for another. All the dreams she’d held as a young girl had shattered when she’d discovered her father’s deception. In spite of him being weak and flawed, she didn’t doubt his love for her. Still the truth had robbed her of her dreams. No noble husband for her. No love, no children, no family.What is it you want of your life?Hollie had asked her when they’d met. She’d once thought she’d wanted to be known.
Now all she wanted was to be forgotten.
She dragged more of the balloon from the sea and wrenched the salty water from it, ignoring the sting of protest from the few small cuts and scrapes on her hands. It was probably silly to go to such bother but what else did she have to do until the swells calmed and Langdon could deliver her to the opposite shore?
While she’d been enjoying the book she’d been reading, she cared more about her balloon. Besides, the cloth had saved her from carrying on with her tale. She’d told Langdon enough. He didn’t need to know all of it. It was the unknown that made her such a mystery, that resulted in her being somewhat famous.Never tell anyone everything,Hollie had advised.
“What now?”
She looked up at the tall man looming over her, hands on his narrow hips. She wondered what it might feel like having those hands on her hips, pulling her close as he lowered his head...
She didn’t want to admit that he had the most beautiful pair of luscious lips she’d ever seen. It was the reason she’d wanted to kiss them so badly that night at the Dragons. She could well imagine that they were quite skilled at delivering pleasure, for, surely, they’d been designed with that purpose in mind.
“Once I’ve gotten the rest of the envelope—”
