He doubted it. Because although he might have beenphysically attracted to her, he couldn’t imagine having much in common with a paragon. He’d have been bored with a perfect, automaton, society wife who only wanted to throw dinner parties and go shopping. It was Emmy’s passion for adventure, her bravery, her brilliance, that attracted him.
He usually lost interest in a woman once he’d bedded her. The thrill of the chase was gone, the mystique shattered. He should have been immune to her by now. But he was even more drawn to her this morning than last night, if that were possible. Evenaftershe’d confessed.
He should be feeling elated. He’d captured the Nightjar and made her admit her crimes. But that paled in comparison to the triumph he’d felt when he’d joined his body with hers, the satisfaction of holding her in his arms. He wanted her again.
No.Last night’s lapse could be dismissed as temporary insanity brought on by shock and a whole host of other, contradictory emotions. Taking her to bed a second time would be a colossal mistake for which there was no excuse. He’d averted complete disaster by not finishing inside her last night, but he didn’t trust himself to be able to repeat the task if he got carried away again. She made him forget his own name.
He regretted the need to restrain her. The sight of her, her chest rising and falling in anger, should not have filled him with such lustful thoughts. He knew there were places, clubs, in London that catered for those with such proclivities, and he’d never imagined he’d find it titillating to have a woman bound and at his mercy. Until now. He was still hard in his breeches.
Bloody woman. What was he going to do with her?
Chapter 28.
Harland didn’t return for what felt like hours. Emmy could hear a clock ticking somewhere in the bedroom but couldn’t see it. She shuffled her chair around in tiny increments to face the door. Several times she heard heavy footsteps outside—presumably the Tricorn’s mountainous manservant, but nobody came in.
Her grumbling stomach reminded her she’d had no breakfast, and hunger did nothing to improve her temper. A procession of dire thoughts chased one another around her head. Not knowing what was going to happen to her was maddening. Finally, the door clicked open and Harland strode in, bringing a gust of pine-scented air with him. The grim set of his features did not suggest good news.
Her pulse spiked in alarm. “What is it? What has happened? Is it Luc?”
Instead of answering her immediately, he crouched behind her chair and untied her hands. They fell to hersides like lead weights, and she shook her wrists to restore the circulation.
He took the seat behind the desk. “Your brother is well. I went to Bow Street and had him released.”
“And?” Emmy prompted, certain from his expression that there was more.
“While I was there, I met my colleague, Sebastien Wolff. He’d just returned from Gravesend.”
Emmy sent him a mystified look. “Why had he gone there?”
“To check up on the one jewel you hadn’t got around to stealing. The Ruspoli sapphire.”
Her mouth dropped open. “You know where it is?”
“We had a little help from the French head of la Securité, Vidocq.”
“I’m impressed. I hadn’t even begun to trace it. Who has it?”
His brows lowered. “It was owned by a disgraced Italian diplomat by the name of Franco Andretti. Unfortunately, Seb arrived just in time to visit a crime scene. Andretti was murdered last night.”
All the breath left Emmy’s lungs. “What?”
“The killer left a black feather at the scene.”
She choked back a gasp of horror. “It was made to look like the Nightjar’s crime?”
It was one thing to be thought a jewel thief, quite another to be suspected of murder. Danton. It must have been him. He’d threatened violence, but she hadn’t imagined he meant anything as serious as murder. The madman would clearly stop at nothing to gain the jewels. That he’d implicated the Nightjar in such a heinous crime was a clear warning. Her family would be next if she did not do what he asked.
Oh, God.How could she retrieve the cache her fatherhad hidden if she was imprisoned here, or locked in the cells at Bow Street?
Emmy suddenly couldn’t breathe, no matter how quickly she inhaled. She bent forward and pressed her forehead to her knees in an effort not to faint. Harland’s hand settled on the small of her back and rubbed up and down her spine in a comforting gesture so effective, she almost whimpered in gratitude.
“Take deep breaths,” he commanded. “Slowly.”
The dizziness eased and she sat back up. Harland returned to his position on the other side of the desk.
“Did the killer take the sapphire?” she asked, even though she already knew the answer.
“Yes. The safe was open, but empty. The thief forced Andretti to open it, then shot him in cold blood.”
