Chapter 12 #2
Perhaps it was the intimacy of the moment, or what they’d shared these last few days, or an instinctive need to be close. Whatever it was, Bull found himself reaching for it.
He slid his fingertip beneath that green ribbon, along her skin, and saw the way she shivered. Saw the way her lips parted. Saw the way her pupils dilated.
She wanted him. He wanted her.
He was already leaning down to take what was his when he slid the soft ribbon up just enough to see what dangled from it: the ring he’d given her, gold and emerald sparkling, hidden beneath her blouse.
Then his lips claimed hers and his fingers curled around that ribbon, pulling her even closer.
His Rose gave a whimper and surged against him, closing her fingers around his lapels as if she could anchor herself to him always.
He remembered the way she’d whimpered against him, how she’d grasped his hips as an anchor, remembered the way her arousal had smelled so sweet… and tried to give her all of that.
Tried to give her everything.
His tongue teased hers, his teeth caught her lips, she moaned against his mouth and he swallowed it down, making it a part of him the way she was a part of him. Completely.
I love ye, Rose.
The realization slammed into him all at once and Bull stiffened, clutching her to him.
She, of course, thought nothing of it, and her lips moved along his jaw as his mind stuttered.
He—he loved her.
Of course he loved her.
He was standing here in her parents’ breakfast room, kissing her furiously and knowing there was no future for them…of course he loved her. Bull groaned and sank into the forbidden kiss once more.
This wasn’t a role. This wasn’t an act, a ruse.
This was real.
This. Was. Real.
And so was she.
His Rose.
“Obdurate spunkmuffin! Dissembling bungle-shite!” The bellow from the hallway had Bull and Rose both stiffening.
He pulled away from her just enough to press his forehead to hers and try to steady his breathing as he slid the ribbon and ring back under her blouse.
His lips curled as he whispered, “For fook’s sake, Rose,” and she stifled a chuckle.
“The blaggards are laughing about this? Georgia? Georgia! They’re laughing at me! Turbulent turd-trumpets!”
As Rose’s mother swept into the room, Bull reluctantly stepped away from her daughter.
He bent to scoop up the briefcase, using the motion to surreptitiously readjust his trousers which had become quite restricting in the previous few minutes.
Meanwhile, Rose crossed to the breakfast table as if nothing was amiss.
And it wasn’t exactly amiss. Just askew. In his trousers.
“Good morning, Mother. My, the weather is—”
“To hell with the weather,” Demon snarled. “Ye were kissing that arsehole! Dinnae pretend ye werenae!”
“Why…” Rose blinked innocently, glancing back at Bull. “I suppose I was.”
“Rosie…”
Her father’s growl sounded threatening, and Bull reacted before he thought it through logically. As Demon leaned toward her, his brows lowered menacingly, Bull darted forward, putting his shoulder in front of her and his body between her and her father.
No.
A father who stiffened, shock showing in his eyes.
“Bull,” Georgia murmured soothingly. “My husband has never hurt anyone he loves.”
Aye. Aye, logically Bull knew that. But he’d seen that anger directed at the woman he loved, and…
Sighing, he shook his head and lifted the briefcase. A distraction. That’s what they all needed. “Would ye like to see the portrait and hear what brought us here?”
Rose leaned forward, ticking points off on her fingers.
“First a hack to the train station, then a train. Then another train, then a brief sojourn in Alnwick, facilitated by another hackney and a fall through some ice, then the train again, then a hired carriage. Then my own two feet.” She nodded firmly. “That is what brought us here.”
Bull hid his smile as Georgia rolled her eyes.
Demon, however, wasn’t distracted.
“Rosie’s here because this is her home.”
“It will not always be, Da.”
Her father jerked back. “What ye—what do ye—how can ye…?”
Exchanging a slightly sad smile with her mother, his Rose shrugged. “I mean, one day I will have to marry and move away, right?”
Georgia slid her arm around her daughter’s shoulders. “Only when you are ready, love. Only when you find a worthy man to partner with for the rest of your life.”
When Rose’s gaze flickered to him, Bull felt himself standing taller, even as he looked away in guilt. What could he offer her, other than a lifetime in a rented flat, working dangerous cases?
For a moment, he wondered what it would be like, to have her in his life. To have her working with him. She’d already proved she was more than capable at his work… But she’d also asked him what he’d do if he had to close down his agency.
Was that what she wanted from him? Would that make him more worthy?
Demon was muttering under his breath as he stomped toward the head of the table, and as the women took their places, Bull forced himself to stop dreaming. There wasn’t a future for him and the Lady Rose Hayle; her father had made that very clear.
And Demon was right.
Bull settled himself at the opposite end of the table from the family. Where the guests sat. Where the interlopers sat. This was where he belonged.
As they ate, Rose launched into an explanation of Allie’s dilemma and how Bull had become involved in this case.
She explained about the blackmail and Bull’s solution, interrupted occasionally by her mother’s, “How interesting!” and Demon’s, “Wait, he’s the reason the engagement was announced? ” while pointing a fork at Bull.
“It was a wonderful solution to the blackmail,” Georgia assured him smoothly. “It negated the danger to Allie—and Rupert—and moved the two of them along to the end goal we all knew they had. But what I do not understand, Rosie, is where you joined this case?”
Bull was frowning down at his plate, considering her mother’s words and remembering how quickly Rupert had pulled that engagement ring from his pocket.
His brother had been wanting to marry Allie for ages, but he’d clearly needed the encouragement.
Was it possible the blackmail had some kind of benefit?
When he noticed the silence, he glanced up to see his Rose looking rather desperately at him. Quickly his mind ran back through the last few sentences, and realized her predicament. She didn’t want her parents to know about her subterfuge…or her particularly ridiculous mustache.
Who would?
“Rose was in London visiting Merida,” Bull announced, scooping up his spoon from beside the place setting.
Fiddling with something kept his mind at ease.
Just as long as he didn’t absentmindedly put it in his pocket.
“Merida has helped me on previous cases, and since I dinnae ken much about art, I asked for her help.” He nodded to Rose as he spun the spoon across his knuckles.
“If I’d realized Rose was the real art expert, I would’ve gone right to her, but luckily Merida brought her along. ”
“Aye?” grunted Demon, clearly unmollified. “And what happened?”
“Well, Rose in her brilliance recognized the significance of the portrait right away.” Bull nodded to her. “We visited the National Portrait Gallery to find another piece painted by the same artist, but it was stolen out from under us.”
Rose eagerly took up the tale. “I knew of one other being sold, but by the time we approached the owner, we learned it had already been sold. The Marquess of Tittle-Tattle had two in his collection—”
“But a buyer—presumably the same buyer—beat us to him, as well,” Bull finished smoothly, pleased they’d managed to get through the explanation without referencing any of their disguises and roles they’d had to play or the kiss they’d shared.
“Someone is collecting the portraits of this woman—or perhaps the work of this artist—either through outrageous sums or violence or blackmail.”
“A man confronted us in Alnwick,” Rose explained quietly, her gaze dropping to her plate.
“He wanted the portrait, which I was carrying in the briefcase, and Bull would not let me come to danger. There was a-a gun…” She swallowed, and missed the alarmed look her parents exchanged, though Bull did not.
“Bull tackled him, and they both went through the ice. I think…” She looked up and met Bull’s eyes. “I think he might have died.”
It wouldn’t be the first time he’d taken a man’s life, even unintentionally, but Bull offered her a reassuring grin. “Och, we broke apart as soon as we went under. There’s nothing to say he didn’t hold his breath longer and came up downriver, aye?”
“Fook that cowardly wankbiscuit,” Demon growled, slamming his fist to the table. “Show us this portrait, eh? What’s the fuss about? And how is our family involved?”
“Georgia’s family is the one involved.”
Bull glanced at Rose, and when she nodded, he bent to pull the painting from his briefcase. He stood and moved around the table so he could place it, almost reverently, in front of Georgia.
Who gasped and slowly lifted it upright.
Finally. She recognizes the woman.
“See!” Rose bounced to her feet and wormed around the table to stand over her mother’s other shoulder. “Look at the smile—look at how similar her eyes are to yours and Aunt Danielle’s. She must be a relative!”
“She was Allie’s great-grandfather’s mistress, you say?” Georgia murmured, her fingers hovering over the woman’s face, the same way Rose’s had during that first meeting.
“Aye,” Bull drawled softly, gaze fixed on hers. “Do ye recognize her?”
Rose closed a hand over her mother’s shoulder. “I thought she might be your mother?”
But Georgia shook her head. “My mother had a mole here.” She pointed to the woman’s upper lip, which was completely devoid of moles. “But this woman looks very similar to how I remember my Mama looking when I was quite young, around the time of Danielle’s birth.”
So when her mother would have been newly married. They had to be close. Bull asked gently, “Do you have an aunt, possibly?”
“My mother had no siblings, but I believe her aunt is still alive.” Georgia was nodding.
“Great-Aunt Betsy is quite elderly now and was married for decades, so this could not be her. Unless she was someone’s mistress as a very young woman.
But perhaps there is a cousin, a sister of hers I did not know about? Perhaps this woman died young?”
Rose tugged her mother around to face her with urgency in her expression. “You have never seen this woman before, or a portrait with a similar ruby necklace? Perhaps in any of the paintings you brought from Bonkinbone?”
When Georgia shook her head, her daughter deflated slightly. “Moldering wankmuppet,” Rose muttered. “We had hoped…”
There was still hope. Bull nodded as he plucked the painting from Georgia’s hands. “So now we have corroboration that this woman is almost certainly a member of yer family. We might no’ ken the artist, but if we can learn the subject’s identity, it’ll help us learn the blackmailer’s motives.”
Rose’s face had lit with excitement at his reminder, and now she reached over to grab his hand. “You are right! We just need to search the family histories! With your knowledge of her gown, and the ruby necklace section in Lord Tittle-Tattle’s book, we should be able to narrow down her identity!”
Her fingers curled around his, and dammit if it didn’t feel right.
Perfect.
Bull’s voice was a little thick when he asked, “Do ye have a book of yer family’s history?”
Georgia huffed. “My father was very proud about that sort of thing, but I am less certain about my mother’s family.”
To Bull’s surprise, Demon grunted and inserted himself into the conversation. “If we have something like that, it’s with the rest of the history books in the library.”
That was…surprisingly helpful. Bull was still staring at the other man in shock when Rose tugged him toward the door.
“To the library!” she cried in excitement.
And as Bull hurried after her, he heard Demon bellow, “Dinnae let them be alone, for fook’s sake!”