Chapter Five
Jamie felt the rage ease from his body, replaced by fatigue and the dull ache of pain from the boxing match he’d just finished. His knuckles throbbed and he thanked God for the gloves he would wear when he walked in society tomorrow.
The roar of the crowd faded as he leaned over his opponent. He had no wish to kill a man, nor maim one for life. This was simply another way to leash the demons that sometimes overcame him. The eyes beneath him opened, and Jamie extended a hand. The man took it, and he hauled him upright.
“Thank you for the fight,” Jamie said. The man grunted in reply.
“Well done, my lord.”
“Thank you, Phillip.” He accepted the cloth his man handed him when he’d returned to his corner and began to towel the sweat from his body.
He’d left the ball after dancing with Lady Alice for two reasons. First, there was that damned list given to him by Anthony’s aunts. And then there was her. Lady Alice Smythe, with her beauty and the haunted look in her eyes.
A close friend once told me that some of us are forced to survive things others cannot imagine.
Of all the things he could have said to her, why had he chosen those words?
She unsettled him, and no woman ever had. She had also declared she wanted justice for her brother, and that Kenneth Jackson would pay. He’d assured her he would see it done, but he doubted that would stop her. Jackson was not a man for a woman like Lady Alice to face. He was a savage animal.
Letting his eyes sweep the crowd, Jamie searched.
While he’d come here to fight, he also knew that Kenneth Jackson had been seen in the area before.
Starting with the back row of spectators, he scanned the gathered men.
To his right, he noticed a woman standing on a box set out for those struggling to see.
Rare to see a lady here, but not unheard of.
Some came with their men; others—ladies of the night—sought their next client.
It wouldn’t be hard to find one in a room full of men fueled by excitement.
Something about this particular woman caught his attention. As he pulled on his shirt and jacket, he found himself watching her. Jamie couldn’t make out her features because her hood was drawn forward, but a strange anticipation stirred in him as she turned.
Why do I suddenly need to know who she is? No woman of his acquaintance would be seen in such a place.
Two men approached her, and Jamie watched as she shook her head. One reached out, and she pushed his hand away. The other gripped her waist, and she struggled. Her hood fell back.
You bloody little fool.
Climbing through the ropes, Jamie jumped down and strode toward her. Men slapped his back and called out to him, but he ignored them all. He had one purpose, and that was to reach Lady Alice before anyone realized who she was.
“Back off!” she shouted, still wrestling with the two men. To his surprise, one stumbled back as she kicked him.
“Now!” Jamie barked when the men hesitated.
They turned. Recognition dawned in their eyes, and then both disappeared into the crowd.
Jamie didn’t wait for permission. Instead, he grabbed her by the waist and lifted her down. Taking one of her gloved hands, he began forcing a path through the throng, ignoring her protests. Reaching the door, he opened it and pulled her through.
“What are you doing?”
Ignoring her demand, Jamie towed her toward the stairs.
When she tried to stop him, he turned, bent, and hoisted her over his shoulder.
Lady Alice pummeled his back with her fists the entire way up, but he didn’t stop until he reached the outer door at the rear of the building.
Only once they were outside and in the shadows did he set her down.
“Are you mad?” Jamie thundered. “What possible reason could you have for being in such a place surrounded by men?” He rarely raised his voice, but he was roaring at her now. “Explain yourself at once, Lady Alice!”
“What I am doing there is no concern of yours, Lord Stafford. The better question is why you were conducting yourself in such a barbaric manner.”
He had to give her credit. Most people would have fled from his anger, but Lady Alice stood her ground, her voice calm.
“Think again,” he said, leaning closer, deliberately intimidating her. “If you came here to find Jackson, you’re a fool. I warned you to stay away from him.”
Jamie respected women. His sisters would never forgive him should he not behave around them as the gentleman he’d been raised to be.
But right now his restraint was gone. The thrill of the fight still coursed through him.
Usually, he would walk home and let the night air cool his temper. Not this time.
“You have no say in what I do!” she snarled.
He couldn’t help admiring her courage. Minutes ago, she’d been terrified, and likely still was, but there was no sign of it on her face.
She was still dressed as she had been at the ball, and once again, he felt that sudden surge of heat when he was near her. Awareness. He had not experienced it often, if ever. Combined with the aftereffects of the fight, it was a dangerous mix. His senses felt sharpened, every breath charged.
She pressed her lips into a hard line and glared at him, defiant when any sensible person would have quailed.
“This is no game.” Jamie gripped her shoulders and shook her once.
“Unhand me!”
“Why are you here?” He pulled her closer until only inches separated them. Her soft floral scent washed over him, stealing his reason.
“Damn you,” he muttered, and before he could stop himself, he was kissing her.
He had no right to take such liberties, yet in that moment, stopping was impossible. Her lips were soft, and when her hand clenched in his shirt instead of striking him, the world narrowed to nothing but her.
Jamie slid a hand down her arm to her back, pressing her closer. A low sound escaped him as her curves met his chest. His other hand cupped her head, angling it so he could deepen the contact. She arched into him, and he swallowed her soft moan.
Need pounded through Jamie, driving out rational thought. One kiss led to another. He should stop, but he couldn’t, not when she tasted like this.
What’s so special about her?
That thought broke through the haze, and Jamie drew back.
“Dear Lord,” she whispered. Her eyes were dark with passion. Then, slowly, clarity returned, and shock replaced the heat. He was certain it mirrored his own.
“Why did you kiss me?”
Jamie had no answer. His body still ached with need, as anger and lust warred inside him.
“Why were you in that room, my lady?” he asked.
She stared up at him for several seconds, then released his shirt and shoved him hard in the chest. He stepped back.
“I want an answer, Lady Alice.”
Her chin lifted. The cool, composed Lady Alice was back—haughty, beautiful, untouchable. But he knew better now. He’d touched her and felt her tremble. She had wanted that kiss as much as he had.
“I will give you no answer.” Her tone was ice.
“Do you understand the danger you put yourself in by stepping into that room? Any of those men could have ruined you had they known who you were. If anyone found out you were here tonight watching a bare-knuckle fight, you would be an outcast, and never able to frequent society again.”
“I wore my cloak,” she said, her voice husky enough to heat his blood all over again. “And I care little about society.”
He snorted. “Spoken like a woman who has never been outside it.”
“And you have?”
Jamie remained silent, watching her.
“It’s all right for you to do that, is it? To strip to the waist and fight in such a barbaric manner? I fail to see why that would not ruin you also.”
“We are not talking about me, but you. I am a man who can look after himself,” Jamie snapped.
Behind them came a shout, followed by laughter and footsteps. He turned, positioning himself between her and the noise. Three men were relieving themselves against a fence.
The sound of running feet made him glance back, just in time to see Lady Alice fleeing.
“Damn it.”
He followed. Reaching the street, he watched her climb into a carriage. It lurched away before he could stop it. Jamie stood there until it vanished from sight, then turned and walked in the opposite direction toward his townhouse.
There could be only one reason Lady Alice Smythe had been in that room tonight, Kenneth Jackson. But how had she known he might be there? Jamie had found her once on that road, and now this. The woman was deliberately courting danger. The question was, what was he going to do about it?
Kissing her had been a mistake. Now he knew what she tasted like, and that knowledge would haunt him. The night he’d carried her before him on his horse should have warned him how she affected him. It hadn’t. Tonight, he’d pressed her soft body to his and kissed her until all sense deserted him.
Idiot.
Jamie didn’t need this kind of complication. He could pull back, he was good at that, but he couldn’t recall a time when a woman had filled him with such heat and want.
He couldn’t offer her anything, ever, and that alone should tell him to keep away from her. But would he? She intrigued him. And if she truly was searching for Jackson—what other reason could there be?—he had to make her see sense before she was hurt.
Her brother had been a Blackwood boy like Jamie, and she wanted vengeance. But that was a path he didn’t want her to walk, even if she was nothing to him.
Jamie would need to speak with her and find out what she knew. And then convince her to stop throwing herself into danger. Then he could avoid her.
He broke into a run as the first drops of rain fell. By the time he reached his townhouse, he was soaked through. After washing and changing into his dressing gown, he poured a brandy and sat before the fire, replaying every moment of the night.
After his last two encounters with Lady Alice, he no longer believed that the cool, proper woman society thought they knew was the real Lady Alice Smythe.
“Who are you?” Jamie muttered into the empty room.