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"And I love you." Noelle settled herself comfortably against his chest, feeling dazed with happiness, sated by their lovemaking, and yes, extraordinarily curious—though not nearly as concerned as she'd anticipated—by what they were about to discuss. "Now tell me, why did you steal that painting? Who are you really? To whom is that money going?"
A questioning look. "You're so sure I don't intend to keep it?"
"Very sure." Noelle nuzzled the damp column of his throat. "You wouldn't do that."
"I'm a thief. You witnessed that firsthand tonight."
"A thief takes for himself. You don't. I won't believe it. So my question remains, why did you steal that painting? Does it have anything to do with Baricci—with your desire to outwit him? I'm sure that factors into your motives, but somehow I think there's more to it than that. And whatever the true explanation is, I think it involves your father."
She saw the startled admission in his eyes. But before he could reply, she blurted out the question that was plaguing her most. "First, I need a more important answer. Why were you never going to tell me the truth? Was it really to protect me, or was it more a case of being reluctant to trust me? I know you've never shared this secret with anyone else, and I suspect there's a crucial reason for that. But I'm not anyone else. I'm the woman you love, soon to be your wife. And I need to know you believe I'd never betray you."
A flash of anguish. "Is that what you think?" Ashford dragged her closer, enveloping her in his embrace, resting his chin atop her head. "Trust has nothing to do with this. I trust you with my life—and yes, with my secret, previously undisclosed or not. But I was frightened to death that you'd get hurt. You're such a reckless little fool—have you any idea what could have happened to you back there, what sort of things go on in that section of London?"
"I stayed out of sight," Noelle protested, although she knew Ashford was right. Then again, so was she, and she needed to make him see that. "Fine, so I behaved recklessly. But don't you understand why? I couldn't let you erect a wall between us before we'd even begun. And you refused to share yourself with me. So what choice did I have but to follow you, to find out firsthand what you were involved in?"
He made a choked sound against her hair. "Knowing you? None. I should have realized you'd never accept my decision to protect you from my past."
"But it isn't just your past—it's your present."
"No. Not after tonight. Tonight, as I promised you, I let it go."
The conviction in his tone was absolute. "I believe you," she said. "Still, that doesn't change the fact that it's been a crucial influence on your life, an important part of the man you've become. Therefore, it's part of me as well."
Ashford nodded. "I agree. Which is why I'm about to tell you everything, omitting nothing." He cleared his throat. "You asked if my actions relate to Baricci. The answer is: yes. To him and other greedy scoundrels like him. And is my father involved? In the most fundamental way possible, yes." Ashford drew a sharp breath, then exhaled it. "What do you know of the Tin Cup Bandit?"
Noelle blinked, wondering what had prompted that particular question. "The same things everyone else knows. He's a legend. For over forty years he's been giving money to those in need and—" She broke off, her eyes widening at the ramifications of her words. "You work with the Tin
Cup Bandit?"
"Closely. I'm his son."
Silence crackled in the air.
"Lord." Noelle struggled to a half-sitting position, fitting the pieces together. "How could I be so stupid?"
A tiny smile touched Ashford's lips. "You're far from stupid, my love. You're uncannily smart. My father is one hell of an actor. He's fooled the entire country, everyone except my mother, for nearly half a century. And yet you sensed something about him from the start. And about me."
Concentrating, Noelle recalled all the details she'd heard and read over the years. "The bandit—your father—used to steal jewelry from the undeserving rich and give that money to the poor, leaving it for them in a tin cup."
"Um-hum. Then he met my mother."
"And he gave up the robberies?"
"After a fashion. First, my mother joined on as his partner—until Juliet and I were conceived."
Noelle's brows shot up. "Your mother is even more remarkable than I realized."
"That's an understatement. In any case, impending parenthood changed my mother and father's perspective. They gave up the dangerous aspects of their role and devoted their energies to raising and donating funds to fill the tin cups they distributed."
"And still do," Noelle finished, comprehension sweeping over her in great waves. "So when you became old enough, you took over your parents' more active role—with them as your advisors, of course."
"In a capacity that fit with my professional role; I substituted paintings for jewels," Ashford qualified. "What makes the situation even more satisfying is the fact that no one has any idea that the bandit's role as a thief was resurrected; they simply assume art thieves like Baricci are stealing those paintings. Thus, they believe there is and always has been one sole Tin Cup Bandit."
"But meanwhile, Baricci knows better. It must make him livid that you're besting him at his own game—if and when you choose to. As, I presume, you have others before him."
Ashford never averted his gaze, determined to give Noelle the honesty he'd promised. "I haven't restricted myself to swindlers and frauds. I've robbed from many who aren't criminals in the true sense of the word—men whose sins are inhumanity and greed, rather than unlawfulness."
Understanding flooded Noelle's heart. "I can imagine how triumphant that makes you feel, especially given the inequity of your father's childhood." A contemplative pause. "This explains so much: your anger when you speak of unprincipled blackguards like Baricci, your father's way of getting his information so rapidly…" She broke off. "The commitment you referred to—it wasn't just to those less fortunate; it was to your father. And the confidence was to him as well."
