Sinfully Yours (Hellions of High Street 2)

“A secret.” Suddenly his big hands were framing her face. The heat of them nearly made her jump out of her skin. “Yes, I confess, I do have a secret. However, it is not what you think. I ask that you…trust me.”

“You have given me precious little reason to trust you, Lord Davenport,” whispered Anna.

“Your sister and Lord Wrexham might disagree. Had they not trusted my information, despite my terrible reputation, the kidnapping of Wrexham’s

son might not have had a very happy ending.”

Anna bit her lip. It was true. The marquess had provided critical information—and for no gain of his own. “Trust cuts both ways, sir. If I am to hold my tongue for now, I should like to be told the reason why.”

“God give me the plague, rather than an aggravating, outspoken hellion to contend with,” he muttered.

“Be careful what you wish for,” said Anna.

A ghost of a smile flitted over his lips. “You are a very stubborn young lady. There are good reasons I can’t reveal certain secrets. Is there nothing I can say or do to convince you to accept that for now?”

“No,” replied Anna, trying not to let the sinuous curl of his mouth cloud her judgment. “Nothing.”

“No?” The question was more a shiver of breath than a sound as he leaned in to close the tiny gap between them.

“No.” This time a shove punctuated her refusal.

Devlin fell back a step. “No?”

Anna scowled. “For someone who just suggested playing a language game, this repetition is getting very tiresome.”

“Ah. I see that I shall have to change tactics.” He rubbed at his chest. “Do you train at Gentleman Jackson’s Boxing Saloon? For a delicate creature, you throw a very hard punch.”

“My father believed that ladies should know survive on their own in the world, including how to protect themselves from predators.”

He regarded her clenched fists, unsure whether to feel bemused or exasperated. “Did his survival skills also include picking locks?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. If a lady finds herself an unwilling captive, the ability to open manacles or a locked door is a very useful talent to have.”

“Who would have guessed that beneath the outward appearance of a demure demoiselle lies the spirit of an intrepid adventuress?” he murmured.

“Who would have guessed that beneath the outward appearance of a debauched devil lies the spirit of an artist,” she countered.

“So, we have something in common. Secrets, which we wish to keep to ourselves.”

She shifted, and as a momentary flicker of light illuminated her face, it seemed that her expression softened just a bit.

A hopeful sign, he mused, for her cleverness had put him in a deucedly difficult position.

How much of the truth can I tell her?

On one hand, he was sure that she could keep a secret. On the other hand, however absurd the conjecture might seem, he couldn’t completely ignore the fact that she was a possible suspect. Her interest in firearms, her furtive foray into the wing of the castle where the prince was lodging…

“Lord Davenport?” Another small shuffle, and now she was wreathed in shadow.

“I am thinking,” he replied slowly.

“Of what lies or deceptions you can tell me?”

He let out a grudging laugh. Oh, yes, she was clever. But he’d met scores of clever women before and handled them easily enough. This was no different.

“Partly,” he answered.

She smiled. “Well, that at least was an honest answer. So perhaps I shall venture another question. Are you or are you not a jewel thief?”