Passionately Yours (Hellions of High Street 3)

“Ready?” he asked, after selecting a wide-brimmed hat and pulling it low on his head.

She nodded.

“Then let’s be off. Stay close.”

Intent on following his lead, Caro gave little heed to the crumpled paper brushing against her knuckles. It wasn’t until it gave off a soft crunch, crunch as she darted into the back stairwell that she quickly pull

ed it out and stuffed it down her bodice to silence the sound.

God forbid that she be the cause of tripping up their plan of escape. She had caused enough trouble for one afternoon.

Thankfully, they made it safely out of the house and into the shadowed alleyway without being spotted. From there, it proved a quick journey to the Milsom Street egress, their only encounter being with a tiger-striped tomcat who had just caught a mouse.

“Here we are,” whispered Alec. He ventured a look up and down the street as she shrugged off the concealing cloak and handed it over. “There’s no one around.”

“Then I had best be going.”

“Be careful.” He turned, and after a tiny hesitation reached out to catch an errant curl and tuck it behind her ear. “You are sure that the eagle is well hidden—”

“Yes, yes.” His touch sent a shiver skating across her skin. “It’s safely stowed at the bottom of my reticule, under my books and pastries.” They had retrieved her things from their hiding place, and she was grateful for the brim of her bonnet, which afforded some shelter from his probing gaze. “And I’ve a good hiding place within my armoire. Rest easy—no one will find it.”

“As I said, it mustn’t remain in your room after tonight,” he growled. “Tomorrow, we must contrive to hide it elsewhere.”

“As to that, I thought of an idea while we were walking.” Caro edged closer to the opening. “First thing in the morning, I shall send a note to Andy suggesting that he drive Isobel and me to the Abbey ruins outside of town for a picnic. You could ride by, as if by chance, and we can take a walk and find some suitable place to stash it.”

“Abbey ruins, purloined treasures, hidden secrets.” He, too, was shadowed by his hat, but Caro thought she detected a quirk of a smile. “You are stealing a page from your sister’s novels.”

“Actually, I’m writing my own adventure,” she murmured. “Anna’s heroines are far more clever and…”

And capable.

They never made egregiously awful mistakes, they never turned into watering pots, they never felt like bumbleheaded fools.

“Suffice it to say, they always triumph in the end. The ending of this story remains to be seen.” Caro squeezed back a tear. “I had better be going, before we are spotted.”

“Be careful,” he cautioned again as he checked the street once more time. “I shall see you tomorrow.”

She started to ease by him, but Alec gripped her arm. “Think over what I said, Caro. We shall talk more about it soon.”

“There is no need,” she whispered.

“Be assured, the discussion is far from over.”

Leaning back against the bedpillows, Caro slipped her bare feet beneath the coverlet and drew her knees to her chest. A hot bath had helped warm the chill from her bones, but feathering a sponge over her naked body had been an all too visceral reminder of Alec’s caresses. She had shocked her poor maid by bursting into tears as a soft trickle of lavender-scented soap suds had slid between her breasts.

Claiming fatigue, she had immediately retreated to her bedchamber after drying off. Though she had been forced to invent several bouncers to explain her appearance, that statement hadn’t been a lie. She had never felt so utterly exhausted.

But then, it wasn’t every day that one became entangled in a dangerous adventure and lost one’s virginity.

Not even Anna’s intrepid storybook heroine, Emmalina Smythe, had managed that feat.

Chuffing a sigh, Caro wasn’t sure whether she wanted to giggle or sob at the absurdity of it.

Oh, how she wished her sisters were here to counsel her and offer advice on the mysteries of men.

And sex.

She suspected that Anna had… well, the Devil Davenport had a very roguish reputation. And as for Olivia, the Earl of Wrexham was said to be a paragon of propriety, but he had a certain gleam in his eye that hinted he wasn’t quite as proper as people thought.