A Rake's Midnight Kiss (Sons of Sin 2)

Devil take that.

Within moments, he’d followed her from the house. At his side, Sirius padded soundless as a ghost.

Gingerly Richard opened the back gate, then realized he wasted his care. She was no longer in sight. It should be cooler outside, but the air was as still and heavy as a damp blanket. With an impatient gesture, he brushed his hair back from his forehead and bent to whisper in Sirius’s ear. “Find her. Find Genevieve.”

Sirius trotted toward the high brick wall separating the stables from the adjoining Leighton Estate. Feathery tail idly waving, he slipped through the rusty gate that sagged from its hinges. Feeling like he trespassed upon a fairy-tale realm, Richard pushed past the wildflowers tangled around the gate’s base.

Sirius waited on a path leading into the woods. Once his master followed, he loped ahead. Under the trees, progress was more difficult. Richard picked his way forward, keeping an eye on Sirius. Luckily the trail was well trodden, indicating someone—Genevieve?—used it regularly.

It was cooler too. Fresh scents surrounded him. Leaf litter.

Green foliage. Sirius’s confident progress indicated that Genevieve was still ahead.

Unless, damn it, Sirius chased a rabbit.

The path ended so abruptly that Richard nearly tumbled into the clearing. Cursing his conspicuous white shirt, he slipped under an oak’s shadow. He sucked in a breath, heart racing. Then another deeper breath as stabbing relief weakened his knees.

She wasn’t meeting a lover. She’d wanted a swim.

As she stroked across the water, each ripple caught the moonlight, turning the pool to silver. No man with an ounce of poetry in his soul could fail to relish this scene.

Richard didn’t know how long he stood, astonished and entranced. Something about her ease indicated she’d done this frequently, probably since she was a girl. She didn’t check nervously for intruders, although surely that was a risk. But who would be about at such an hour? No poacher with his head screwed on right chanced his luck on one of Sedgemoor’s estates.

Without conscious thought, Richard circled the pond, keeping to the dark, seeking to see without being seen. When he stumbled over a bundle under a rowan bush, he smiled with wolfish anticipation.

Reluctantly Genevieve swam toward the bank. The secluded pool in Sedgemoor’s woods had worked its magic once again. She felt better. More like the woman she’d been before the break-in and everything turning topsy-turvy.

Soon after she and her father had arrived in Little Derrick, she’d started coming here in secret. She’d been a bewildered ten-year-old, mourning her beloved mother, coping with unfamiliar surroundings and unfamiliar people, not least an aunt she barely knew. In the fifteen years since, she’d never met another soul during her midnight swims. Sometimes she thought she was the only person on earth to know of the pond’s existence.

Tonight she’d desperately needed the pool’s tranquility. The week’s events had troubled her soul. And fear of encountering Mr. Evans, not to mention memories of the aborted robbery, had confined her to her room every night since he’d moved in. In this oppressive heat, she’d stretched out on her bed, chasing a thousand useless thoughts around her head. She could have worked, but what she’d longed for was freedom.

She’d stayed out longer than intended, but she couldn’t bear to leave the silky water. She found her footing and waded to the bank where she’d left her clothes and towel.

Something rustled in the undergrowth and she stopped, alert. Suddenly her recklessness in coming here while a thief prowled the neighborhood made her stomach cramp with disquiet. Just because there had been no trouble for over a week didn’t make it safe to roam the woods like a gypsy.

“Who’s there?” She cursed the quaver in her voice.

She edged toward her clothes, wondering if fleeing into the trees would be a wiser move. But she couldn’t stay outside naked until dawn. Another rustle set her heart banging like a trip-hammer. If only she’d brought her pistol, but it was safely locked in her desk along with the Harmsworth Jewel.

Frantically her eyes scoured the darkness, but shadows defeated her. Moonlit in the clearing, she was completely vulnerable.

An animal ventured out to stand a few feet away. She was in such a state that she needed a few seconds to recognize Sirius’s shaggy outlines. Relief made her legs feel likely to collapse.

“You scared me, you silly hound.” She stepped forward to collect her clothes with renewed confidence. “How did you escape your infernal master?”

She’d developed a healthy respect for Sirius’s intelligence. If he’d answered, she wouldn’t be altogether surprised. On such a night, animals could talk and frogs might turn into princes.

Fumbling after her towel, she found only her gown. Puzzled, she kneeled, patting around the area. She raised her head. “Have you eaten my towel, Sirius? If you have, I’ll sic Hecuba onto you.”

“Don’t blame Sirius,” a familiar voice murmured from behind.

As she stiffened into horrified stillness, her towel dropped around her naked shoulders.

“Dear God…” Genevieve breathed, frightened, humiliated, and furious. With herself and with the vile Mr. Evans. She stumbled upright on trembling legs and whipped the linen strip around her body. Too little, too late, she acknowledged with a sick twisting in her belly. She whirled around in outrage. “H… how long have you been there?”

From a few feet away, he stood watching. Tall. Lean. Outwardly relaxed. But that didn’t fool her. He was on the hunt and they both knew it. “Long enough.”

Mr. Evans’s calm response didn’t quiet her panic. “You had no right—”