“I’ve got you now,” he bragged.
By my waist. But you left my hands free, you moron.
She reached into her skirt pocket, her fingers closing around her pistol. Before she could yank it out, the arms around her loosened.
“What the bleeding ’ell—”
She spun around to see Hadleigh plow a fist into her captor’s face. The man staggered but regrouped. A blade flashed in his beefy hand, and Livy’s heart shot into her throat as he charged at Hadleigh, weapon raised. Hadleigh took him head on, grabbing the other’s wrist. The two of them grappled for control of the knife. As Livy was trying to see if she could get a clear shot, Hadleigh gained the upper hand. He twisted his foe’s arm, and the blade dropped, skidding into the darkness.
A moan from the cobblestones momentarily distracted her. The other bastard was coming to. As he began to sit up, she crouched, aiming a jab at his nose. Groaning, he fell back once more.
She rose and saw Charlie materialize at the end of the alleyway, behind Ben and the brute he was pummeling, neither of whom noticed her. Livy lifted her chin to let her mentor know she had everything in hand, and Charlie melted back into the fog. Hadleigh finished the job with powerful punches that made his opponent howl in pain and Livy’s blood rush hotly in her veins.
Her heart sighed. Hadleigh was such a hero…even if she didn’t need one.
Her pulse hiccupped as he stepped over the foe he’d vanquished and strode up to her. Fresh from the fight, his hair falling over his brow, he’d never looked more dashing and virile. Or more dangerous.
“Hello, Hadleigh,” she said breathlessly. “There is a perfectly good explanation.”
And I had better think of it quickly.
“Is there indeed?” His tone was calm, his gaze stormy. “I cannot wait to hear it.”
15
Depositing Livy into his carriage, Ben instructed his groom to take them to Lady Fayne’s. He drew the curtains and tried to calm his simmering rage as the conveyance rolled off. Livy was seated on the opposite bench, and studying her in the light of the carriage lamp did not improve his mood. She’d transformed herself from a demure debutante into a tantalizing trollop.
Devil and damn, her breasts were nearly spilling out from her poor excuse for a bodice, the firm rounded tops jiggling with the carriage’s movements. Her scarlet sateen dress clung to her waist, so narrow he could span it with his hands. The hem ended above her trim ankles, which were scandalously displayed in black silk stockings. She’d darkened her lashes, the smoky fringe highlighting the brilliant clarity of her eyes. The innocent pink of her lips was covered by a smear of glistening red paint.
Gone was the little girl he’d known. In her place was a sultry, seductive tart. And the change unleashed his bestial appetites, hot hunger clawing at his gut.
Fucking hell.
His anger and lust seemed to feed on each other. Reining them both in, he bit out, “I am waiting for your explanation as to why you were at the Black Lion.”
Being a quick-witted female, Livy knew how to dodge the truth. But she’d never been able to evade him. He could always tell when she was lying, and from the brief lowering of her lashes, he knew he was about to be treated to one hell of a tale.
A deviant part of him wanted her to lie. Wanted to punish her for being a naughty, reckless girl who had endangered her own life. Equally strong was the instinct to protect her, to keep her swaddled in cotton so that nothing and no one could ever harm her.
“I was there for the same reason you were,” she said.
Her calm reply shot up the pressure in his veins. He’d been at the Black Lion because, earlier that day, he’d located the maker of the gold watch he’d found on Pete. Eager to see the piece returned to its owner, the watchmaker had identified his client as the Countess of Longmere, who’d commissioned the watch as a wedding present for her husband.
Ben had tracked Longmere down to the Black Lion, spotting the man with the group of bastards he was all too familiar with. The years he’d kept company with the Horsemen told him it was no coincidence that the trail had led to them. The question was not whether they were involved with the deadly drug, but in what fashion.
Yet at the sight of Livy, Ben had abandoned his quarry. What in blazes was she doing by herself, dressed like a whore, in a disreputable Whitechapel tavern? Having blown his night’s mission for her sake, he wasn’t about to do further damage by telling her about his covert quest.
“I was in pursuit of a diversion,” he said shortly. “A gentleman’s prerogative.”
She narrowed her eyes at him, but not before he caught the hurt that flashed through those peerless celadon orbs. A moment later, the hurt was replaced by a mutinous gleam.
She tilted her chin up. “Not only a gentleman’s. I was there for the same reason.”
While Livy was undoubtedly bold, she wasn’t a hussy. From what he’d observed over the years, she was not much of a flirt, nor did she actively encourage male attention. If he were honest, the only man she’d shown any interest in…was him.
And, damn his eyes, he couldn’t deny that he liked it that way. As wrong and forbidden as it was. As undeserving as he was of her adulation. Regardless, her assertion that she was out chasing carnal thrills tonight
