Chapter One
Caroline Nash breathed a sigh of relief as the carriage door closed and allowed herself to slump against the leather squab in a completely unladylike manner.Shylock, the play at Theatre Royal with the popular actor, Edmund Kean, had been entertaining. The company in her theatre box had not. She breathed another sigh as the carriage rolled forward and she let the shawl slide off her shoulders as she savored the warm June air.
At least she was alone, save for the two footmen on the outside rumble seat. Sir Reginald, her father, had decided to visit White’s with several nobles—sycophants she called them—of the prince regent’s set to discuss what he called important business. Caroline suspected such business after midnight would consist mainly of swilling brandy.
Not that I couldn’t use a snifter myself, she thought as she pulled off her long white gloves and tossed them on the seat along with her shawl. The incessant chattering of Lord Compton’s and Lord Linford’s wives had been ongoing, despite some rather loud throat clearing on Caroline’s part. Why spend an evening at the theatre if they weren’t planning on paying attention to the play?
Caroline leaned her head back and closed her eyes, thankful for the silence broken only by the plopping sound of the horses’ hooves on cobblestone as they left the traffic on Drury Lane and headed toward St. James Park. In another thirty minutes or so, she would be home. She could take the pins out of her hair, pull on a comfortable, soft linen night rail, and help herself to her father’s brandy decanter.
The carriage coming to a stop made her eyes snap open. Had she dozed off? Caroline heard muffled voices and then a scuffling sound. She leaned forward, but before she could look out the window, both doors opened. An arm and hand holding a large musket shoved through the left side, and Caroline scuttled to the right, tripping since the step hadn’t been let down, and toppled into the arms of the man outside.
Arms that felt like bands of steel as they encircled her waist. Caroline pressed her hands flat against the man’s chest—it felt like steel, too—and tried to push away. She might as well have been trying to move a stone wall. She looked up and barely managed to suppress a gasp. The man sported a Vandyke and his face was masked, but in the dim light from a lamppost down the street, she could discern the glitter of dark eyes almost as black as his hair and the rest of the clothing he wore, including a black cape. Her knees suddenly jellied. Had his hands not been holding her up, Caroline might have simply slid to the ground, and she wasn’t given to swooning.
But God in heaven, she was looking at the Midnight Marauder.
He certainly didn’t need an introduction, not that being formally introduced was necessary when attempting a robbery. But then, Caroline’s mind wasn’t functioning fully since she was held so close she could feel his body heat.
As if realizing that she recognized him, or at least who his moniker was, a corner of his mouth lifted slightly.
“You know why I am here?” he asked, his voice a husky baritone.
Caroline knew. She’d heard of his escapades often enough from twittering debutantes. He controlled a small group of brigands who stopped carriages on the way home from Society events. While his men robbed the gentlemen of coin, the Midnight Marauder offered the ladies a chance to keep their jewels in exchange for a kiss. The debutantes always sounded suitably shocked when they talked about an episode, albeit amidst a fluttering of fans and giggles. Caroline swallowed hard. She wasn’t wearing any jewelry.
“There is no gent in the carriage,” a voice said.
The marauder turned his head in the direction of the sound. Caroline could have sworn he frowned as he turned back to her, although she couldn’t tell with the domino in place.
“You are traveling alone?”
“My father thought I was safe with our driver and two footmen.”
The marauder’s mouth quirked. “Obviously, your father was wrong.”
Caroline looked at her father’s men, encircled by the brigands, and raised her chin, although she realized that was a mistake immediately. It only put her mouth much closer to his. She pushed against his embrace, but he only loosened it slightly to give her an inch or two of space. She took it. “And youobviouslystopped the wrong carriage. There is nothing of worth to be taken.”
The quirk turned into a smile. “I would not say that,Mademoiselle.”
Caroline’s breath hitched at the sultry tone. “I do…do not have any jewelry—”
“I can see that.” He tilted his head slightly. “So you are aware of my terms,oui?”
She felt her face warm. She never blushed. She wasn’t some naive ingénue, either. “What I meant was, that I did not choose to wear any tonight. I have some items at home—”
“Are you asking me to accompany you home?” His voice sounded amused.
“Certainly not.” He must be insane if he thought… Of course, he didn’t mean it. Why was she feeling so flustered? Every piece of gossip she’d heard about him didn’t do justice to his animal magnetism. She needed tothink. Caroline pushed back against him once more, thankful that he relaxed his grip, although his hands still stayed at her waist. “I…I can arrange to have something dropped off at a location of your choice tomorrow.”
“Umm.” His head tilted in the other direction. “I do not think I am interested.”
Caroline took a deep breath. “Then I will thank you for letting me go.”
“Not just yet.”
Before she could say any more, he pulled her close, his arms encircling her once more as his mouth descended on hers.
Caroline was overcome by sensation. His hands caressed her back in slow, circular movements which caused her breasts to press against his chest, her nipples beading at the friction of the movement. His lips were both soft and firm, warm and gentle as a zephyr breeze as he brushed them across her mouth, lingering at a corner, as if to tease her into wanting more…
And suddenly, she did. She wanted to experience what all those debutante giggles were about. It had been so long since she’d allowed a man to kiss her. After what George had done… Caroline pushed the thought of her former almost-fiancé away.Hehad never kissed her like this. Almost reverently, yet with the suggestion of passion just seconds away.
