Chapter 9
“What the devil are you doing here?” Aaron stared at the cloaked figure in the doorway of Sulton’s lodgings, snow swirling around her like she’d materialized from the storm itself.
Louise pushed back her hood, hair immediately catching snowflakes, her chin lifting in that way that meant she was preparing for battle.
“The same thing you are.” She stepped past him into the shabby rooms, shaking snow from her cloak. “Looking for clues about my brother.”
Fury and something else, something hot and unwelcome, coursed through Aaron’s veins. “You followed me.”
“You made it rather easy.” Louise moved to the desk, already rifling through papers. “A single rider on a snowy night isn’t particularly subtle.”
“I told you to stay at Calborough House.”
“You told me many things.” She didn’t look up from her search. “I chose which ones to heed.”
Aaron crossed the room in two strides, catching her wrist. “This isn’t a game. The men your brother is involved with wouldn’t hesitate to hurt you.”
Louise turned to face him fully, and he realized his mistake. Standing this close, he could see the snowflakes melting on her lashes, the flush in her cheeks from the cold, the rapid rise and fall of her chest. Her pulse hammered beneath his fingers.
“Then it’s fortunate you’re here to protect me.” The words carried a challenge that had nothing to do with her brother.
Aaron released her wrist as if burned. “I cannot believe you’re this stubborn.”
“I’m practical.” Louise pulled her cloak tighter against the cold as they climbed the narrow stairs. “I know George’s habits, his hiding places. You’re wandering blind.”
She had a point, though Aaron would rather walk through fire than admit it.
At the top of the stairs, an older woman in a threadbare wrapper blocked their path, a candle trembling in her grip.
“Who are you?” Her voice was sharp with suspicion. “What are you doing in my establishment at this hour?”
Aaron stepped forward. “Forgive the intrusion, madam. Are you the landlady?”
“I am. Mrs. Pritchard. And you still haven’t answered my question.”
“My wife and I work for Lord Sulton.” The lie came smoothly. “His lordship asked us to fetch some items from his lodgings.”
Mrs. Pritchard’s eyes narrowed, flicking between them. Louise stepped closer to Aaron’s side, playing the part.
“Lord Sulton hasn’t been here in over three weeks,” the landlady said. “And he owes me two months’ rent besides.”
“Part of our errand is to settle that debt.” Aaron reached into his coat and withdrew a leather purse. “How much does he owe?”
Mrs. Pritchard named a sum that made Louise inhale sharply. Aaron counted out the coins without hesitation, then added several more.
“For your trouble. And your discretion.”
The landlady’s demeanor transformed. She pocketed the money with practiced efficiency and produced a key from her wrapper.
“This way, then. Though I warn you, there’s not much left to fetch. His lordship took most of his things when he left.” She paused. “Or someone else did.”
She led them down a dim corridor and unlocked a door at the end. “I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”
The lodgings were cramped and cold, consisting of two rooms that spoke of genteel poverty sliding toward genuine desperation. But it was worse than that. The place had been stripped bare.
Empty wine bottles lined the mantel, but the wardrobe doors hung open, revealing nothing but bare hooks. Drawers had been pulled out and upended. Papers were scattered across the floor, but they were only old newspapers and discarded betting slips.
“Someone’s been here before us.” Louise moved through the wreckage, her face pale. “They’ve taken everything.”
Aaron checked the desk, finding only empty compartments. “Recently, by the look of it. The dust hasn’t settled.”
Louise pulled out a drawer entirely, checking beneath it the way she’d seen George hide things.
Nothing.
She moved to the wardrobe, running her hands along the back panels.
Still nothing.
“He always hid important things in furniture,” she murmured, more to herself than to him. “Our father did the same.”
They searched in tense silence, but it was futile. Whoever had come before them had been thorough. Not a single document remained. Not a letter, not a ledger, not even a calling card.
“There’s nothing here.” Louise sank onto the edge of the bare mattress, her composure finally cracking. “We’re too late.”
Aaron moved to the window, checking the street below.
The snow that had been falling lightly when they arrived had thickened into a white curtain. Even as he watched, the wind picked up, driving flakes horizontally past the glass.
“We have another problem.”
Louise joined him at the window. Her breath caught. “A snowstorm.”
“A blizzard, by the look of it.” Aaron tested the window frame, feeling the cold seeping through. “We can’t leave. Not in this.”
“But Emily—”
“- is safe and warm at Calborough House with my aunt.” He turned to face her. “We both rode here. Taking horses out in this would be dangerous for both the poor beasts and us.”
Louise pressed her hand to the glass, watching the snow swirl. “Then we’re trapped.”
“For the moment.” Aaron moved to the fireplace, finding a small stack of wood beside it. “I’ll see about making this habitable.”
He disappeared into the corridor, returning minutes later with an armful of blankets and more firewood.
“The landlady was sympathetic to our plight.” He set down his burdens. “I’ve arranged for our horses to be stabled in the yard behind the building. They’ll be out of the worst of it.”
Louise hadn’t moved from the window. In the dim light, she looked fragile in a way she never permitted herself at Calborough House. The weight of her brother’s disappearance, the ransacked rooms, and now the storm trapping them here. It was finally taking its toll.
Aaron kneeled on the hearth and coaxed the fire to life. Warmth slowly crept into the room, pushing back the worst of the chill.
“Come away from the window.” His voice came out rougher than intended. “You’ll freeze standing there.”
She turned, and he saw the brightness of unshed tears in her eyes. “What if we never find him? What if whoever took these things has already—”
“Don’t.” Aaron rose and closed the distance between them. “We don’t know what’s happened to George. Speculation won’t help.”
“I can’t help it.” Her voice broke. “He’s my brother. For all his faults, he’s still my brother.”
The urge to touch her was nearly overwhelming. Aaron kept his hands at his sides through sheer force of will.
“Sit by the fire. Warm yourself.” He gestured to the threadbare rug before the hearth. “We may be here for some time.”
Louise moved to the fire, sinking down onto the rug with her skirts pooling around her. Aaron settled beside her, close enough to share warmth but careful to maintain propriety. The flames crackled between them and the howling wind outside.
“I’m sorry,” Louise said quietly. “For insisting on coming. You were right. I’ve only complicated things.”
“You gave us the address. That’s more than I had.” Aaron stared into the flames. “And you were right, too. You do know George’s habits better than I could.”
“Much good it did us. Someone else knew them, too.”
They sat in silence, watching shadows dance across the walls. The storm showed no signs of abating. If anything, the wind grew fiercer, rattling the windows in their frames.
Louise began to shiver despite the fire’s warmth. Aaron saw gooseflesh rising on her arms and noticed the way she hugged herself against the cold.
“Come here.”
She looked at him, startled.
“You’re freezing.” He opened his arm, an invitation. “Body heat is the most efficient way to stay warm. This isn’t impropriety. It’s survival.”
Louise hesitated for only a moment before shifting closer. Aaron wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her against his side. She was stiff at first, holding herself carefully apart even as their bodies touched. Then, gradually, she relaxed into him.
“This isn’t proper,” she murmured, though she made no move to pull away.
“Hypothermia isn’t proper either.”
A surprised laugh escaped her. “Is that your medical opinion, Your Grace?”
“It’s common sense.” He adjusted the blanket around them both. “We’re trapped in a freezing room during a blizzard. Propriety can wait until we’re not in danger of losing fingers to frostbite.”
She was quiet for a moment. “Emily is afraid of storms.”
“My aunt will comfort her.”
“I should be there. I’m always there when she’s frightened.”
“You can’t be everywhere at once.” Aaron’s hand moved almost of its own accord, stroking her arm through the fabric of her sleeve. “Your sister is resilient. She’ll manage one night.”
“She shouldn’t have to manage.” Louise’s voice was barely a whisper. “She’s only six. She’s already lost so much.”
“So have you.”
Louise tilted her head to look up at him. The firelight caught in her eyes, turning green to gold. They were so close he could see the individual lashes framing those remarkable eyes, could count the freckles scattered across her nose.
“We should sleep,” she said, but she didn’t look away.
“Yes.” He didn’t look away either.
The fire crackled. The wind howled. The world outside had disappeared into white chaos, leaving only this room, this fire, this woman in his arms.
Aaron told himself to release her. To stand up, to put distance between them, to remember all the reasons this was dangerous.
Instead, his hand rose to cup her cheek.
Louise’s breath caught. Her lips parted.
He bent his head. Their lips met.
Louise’s mouth was soft, hesitant, inexperienced—and utterly intoxicating. Aaron’s hand slid from her cheek to cradle the back of her head, fingers tangling in the pins that held her hair. She made a small sound against his lips, something between a gasp and a sigh, and he swallowed it whole.
She tasted of snow and courage and something essentially her.
Her fingers curled into the lapels of his coat, not pulling, just holding, as if she needed an anchor in the storm they’d created between them.
He could feel the rapid flutter of her pulse where his thumb rested against her throat, could feel the tremor that ran through her body as he deepened the kiss.
He’d meant it to be gentle. Controlled. A single moment of weakness, he could walk back from.
But Louise kissed him back with a tentative hunger that undid him completely. Her lips parted beneath his, welcoming him, and Aaron groaned low in his throat as he gathered her closer.
The blanket slipped from her shoulders entirely, pooling at their feet. He felt the warmth of her through the thin fabric of her gown, felt the press of her body against his chest, and whatever remained of his restraint began to crumble.
“Aaron,” she breathed against his mouth.
His name. Not Your Grace. Not the duke.
Just Aaron, spoken in a voice roughened with want.
Something broke open inside him.
He kissed her deeper, one hand splayed across the small of her back, the other still tangled in her hair. She arched into him, and the movement pressed her breasts against his chest, soft and warm through the layers between them.
Aaron’s blood turned to fire. He pulled her into his arms, caging her there with his body, his mouth never leaving hers.
Louise gasped at the contact, but she didn’t pull away.
Her hands slid up his chest, over his shoulders, fingers threading into his hair.
The tentative touch sent sparks cascading down his spine.
He tilted her head back, changing the angle of the kiss, and swept his tongue against the seam of her lips.
She opened for him without hesitation.
His hand found the curve of her waist, the swell of her hip. Even through her gown, he could feel the heat of her skin, could trace the shape of her body beneath the fabric. She shivered under his touch, and the small tremor undid him further.
He wanted to feel her without barriers. Wanted to trace every freckle he knew must be scattered across her shoulders. Wanted to discover what sounds she would make if he kissed his way down her throat, across her collarbone, lower still.
“God, Louise.” The words escaped against her lips, rough and reverent. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”
Her answer was to press herself more fully against him. The movement brought her hips flush with his, and Aaron hissed at the contact, at the way her softness cradled the hard evidence of his desire. She stilled, eyes flying open, and he watched understanding dawn in those green depths.
He should step back. Should apologize. Should put distance between them before this went somewhere neither of them could return from.
Instead, he kissed her again, deeper than before, one hand sliding up her ribcage to rest just beneath the swell of her breast.
She whimpered into his mouth, and the sound shot straight through him, pooling hot and urgent at the base of his spine. Her fingers tightened in his hair. Her body melted against his.
And Aaron lost himself entirely in the taste and feel and scent of her, this woman who had upended everything he thought he knew about control.