Chapter Fourteen
Hannah was not precisely a stranger to passion, and she certainly was no sheltered miss.
But no one had ever made her feel like she was as powerful as the sea…
until now. With Eoin, she didn’t just feel like she was skimming along brilliant, sunlit waves.
Instead, she was part of the incredible force—surging, strong, and unstoppable.
He’d been tentative at first, sweetly so. Very quickly, though, his raw hunger had matched hers, and she wanted it, wanted him and his need.
When Eoin’s lips found a particularly sensitive spot at the base of her neck, Hannah whimpered. Actually whimpered. Never in her life had she thought she would allow such a sound to escape her lips in front of another human being.
But with Eoin, it didn’t seem like a weakness.
It simply felt right as his large hand slid in a seductive rhythm over her breast while his thumb toyed devilishly with her nipple.
There was a certain thrill to hanging half in the air, her body bonelessly draped against Eoin’s muscular forearm as he bent over her, his mouth practically devouring her neck.
Each sway of the carriage bounced their bodies together in the most wonderfully erotic way.
Why had Hannah never attempted this in a coach before? But then again, she’d never ridden in one of these rarefied equipages until she’d met Eoin.
Suddenly, a very unwanted spike of reality drove through Hannah’s glorious haze of pleasure. She gasped and not from delight.
Eoin immediately jerked them upright, his blue eyes studying her closely. She had never known another person so attuned to her emotions.
“I am fine. Just a stray thought,” Hannah said, silently adding to herself, but not a very pleasant one.
What was she doing, kissing Eoin so fervently? She’d only meant to tease away a few of his worries. She hadn’t expected him to actually accept her bold offer.
Or maybe part of her had. She’d felt an explosive attraction to him since their first meeting.
But then she’d discovered Eoin’s identity, and she hadn’t been able to indulge in that intense yearning. That was the crux of the problem.
It wasn’t just because he was her family’s enemy—or perhaps their intertwined past was no longer a reason for Hannah to avoid intimacy with Eoin.
After all, Eoin was nothing like his grandfather, who’d sent two boys to the Colonies for trying to feed their families.
Instead, Eoin was the type to step in and save a street urchin.
Eoin possessed a sensitive side, a part of him that Hannah suspected was revealed only to her. And she was afraid of injuring him—for he trusted her, while she was keeping secrets.
Nay, not just secrets.
Hannah had entered into this partnership with the intent of destroying Eoin’s family. But even as she’d begun to realize that Eoin would willingly help uncover his relatives’ perfidy, she also knew for certain that he’d be sorely wounded that she’d tricked him.
And then she’d gone and kissed the man. Or rather devoured him.
She really needed to confess the truth. But how could she at this moment?
Eoin was still reeling from the brutality of what they’d witnessed at the Horse and Hen.
He believed his mother to be dead, perhaps even from a fight in the ring.
And she—Hannah—was his main support in the dark world that he’d just discovered.
Could she leave him with absolutely no foundation?
Damn it. She’d made a bloody mess of things.
“A stray thought.” Eoin tapped Hannah’s forehead lightly and brought her from her stupor. To her surprise, an adorable half pout touched Eoin’s lips. She hadn’t thought the stoic man capable of such a petty emotion. “And here you have utterly destroyed my capacity for reason.”
Oh, she was the very devil. The truth behind her original motivations would utterly crush this sweet mountain of a man.
“Perhaps I need to try harder.” Eoin attempted to wink, but he didn’t quite succeed. It was more like a lopsided blink. But his failure only made the gesture more lovable.
Hannah’s mind scrambled for how best to proceed for Eoin’s sake. She did not want to reject him, but she also didn’t want to engender more closeness until she could tell him the truth.
Eoin’s expression seemed to deaden, and Hannah realized the astute man had noticed her hesitation. “Eoin, I—”
Thankfully, the carriage drew to a stop, and the coachman rapped on the ceiling—the signal that Eoin liked his footmen to give upon arrival at a destination. Hannah nearly catapulted off Eoin’s lap.
“We best put ourselves to rights,” Hannah said as she tugged on her shirt and patted her shoulder as a signal for Pan to return to her.
At the Black Sheep, it was no secret that she sometimes donned boys’ clothing, so there was no need to rebind her breasts. She just needed to look… well… untumbled. Not that there had been any actual tumbling, which was probably for the best—but oh, what an intense tumbling it would have been.
Eoin nodded and stiffly donned his simple coat. “I hope I did not offend you with—”
“Not at all,” Hannah reassured him, resting her hand on his arm for a few brief seconds. She wouldn’t have risked even that contact if they hadn’t been about to depart the carriage. She didn’t trust herself around Eoin—not with how incendiary their kisses had been.
“I’ve never experienced an intensity like that,” Hannah admitted.
Eoin’s eyes heated, and when he spoke, his normally even voice sounded like a growl. “Nor have I.”
Hannah sucked in her breath. Calm. Now is not the time. You can be calm.
“We’d best go inside.” Hannah turned and pushed on the carriage door. “I’ll send a boy around to collect our friends. Once the Black Sheep closes, we need to discuss what we learned.”
“I am afraid of the conclusions,” Eoin admitted grimly, and then a shadow of a smile touched his lips. “But I am glad you will be next to me.”
Hannah’s remorse skewered her, but a confession now would only ease her guilt and make Eoin feel worse. So she squeezed his arm and nodded.
“I’ll stay at your side, Eoin,” Hannah promised, while silently adding, until you chase me away.
“None of this makes sense.” Sophia tapped an elegant finger against a low table in the back room. They were all gathered on the comfortable furniture, and Hannah and Eoin had just finished recounting what had happened in the bowels of the Horse and Hen.
“Nothing you described is illegal,” Sophia pointed out. “Why would they position a guard at the entrance?”
“And a bear!” Charlotte said, shaking her head. “That poor creature.”
Her husband reached over and patted her hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll either buy it or figure out another way to rescue it. There’s plenty of room at our friend’s menagerie.”
“Illegal operations must be occurring at the Horse and Hen,” Sophia sighed, her fingers beating out an even faster tattoo. “But none of our patrons know anything about it.”
“I haven’t learned anything specific either,” Powys added with an especially theatrical sigh, a hazard of being an actor.
“But you have heard something?” Hannah leaned forward. Beside her, Eoin stiffened. She wanted to reach out and comfort him, but she had no idea what their relationship was… or would become. And it didn’t feel fair to expose him to the scrutiny of her friends.
“Just about the street in general. It was known for being a hotbed of pro-Catholic activity and then as a center of the gin trade,” Powys explained. “But it was curiously difficult to obtain even that much information. No one seems to want to talk about the Horse and Hen.”
A shivery sensation slipped through Hannah. Powys’s description sounded similar to her search for information about the Aucourtes. But she shouldn’t make connections between two separate investigations simply because they were occurring at the same time. There was no link—other than Eoin himself.
“I’d suspect that they were still distilling, but since the fall in popularity in gin, they must have acquired another means to earn enough blunt for an underground lair,” Eoin said, his voice neutral as if the discussion had nothing to do with him.
But despite his ability to hide the pain, Hannah knew he was hurting.
“The name still feels deucedly familiar.” Lord Percy rubbed his forehead. “But I’ve never had anything to do with gin. I can’t stand the vile stuff. It’s like drinking a bouquet of flowers.”
“Were any members of your family Jacobite sympathizers?” Matthew asked.
Lord Percy shook his head, and it was clear that he was only half listening. “My relatives have always been staunch royalists—or at least staunchly in favor of what lines their coffers and keeps them from troubling situations.”
“At least we know the nom de guerre—the Purveyor,” Eoin said before he turned to address Powys. “Would you be comfortable making inquiries into the name?”
Powys nodded. “Although I am afraid the results might be the same as when I’ve asked about the Horse and Hen.”
“If people fall silent at the mere mention of the Purveyor, that is telling in and of itself,” Sophia pointed out.
Hannah glanced over at Eoin as she thought about how the master of ceremonies had practically dragged him onto the stage. That image plagued her, along with a worry that she’d missed something vital.
“The Purveyor seems to know Eoin,” Hannah said slowly, “or at least, Eoin attracted the fellow’s attention.”
Eoin shrugged. “It could be my size. It’s not unusual for folks to espy my stature and wonder how good I am at fighting.”
“But to stop the match between the women?” Hannah pointed out as she worried her bottom lip. “That’s a way to anger customers and lose money. You were already presumed to be a contestant, so why rush matters?”