Page 16 of A Little Bit Dangerous
Yet she wondered if Mr Chance was her secret benefactor.
She scoffed aloud. Fanciful notions were for the weak-minded. A woman without means had to keep her wits. So why couldn’t she stop thinking about the handsome gentleman? Like everyone else in her life, he seemed keen to avoid her. Had she not learnt her lesson?
Deciding counting to a hundred would help to banish thoughts of the enigmatic Mr Chance, Isabella focused on the task. Indeed, her tense muscles relaxed by the time she reached ten, and the water felt decidedly warmer.
Her eyelids grew heavy, the stress of the last few weeks taking its toll. She had two hours before Mr Gibbs arrived to ferry her and Mr Chance to the shipping office. More than enough time for a nap.
Sleep brought little comfort.
Her unconscious mind tormented her with visions of the inscrutable Christian Chance. The dream was so realistic she could hear his voice as clearly as if he were standing in her bedchamber.
“You can’t throw her out,” he said, his stern tone revealing the dark, compelling side of his nature. “We had an agreement.”
“I agreed she could stay the night, nothing more.”
“You can see she’s vulnerable. We should leave before she wakes to find two men gawping at her comely figure.”
“You might be gawping at her figure,” came a stranger’s stony voice. “I’m assessing the situation to decide how I remove the woman from my premises.”
Remove her? The dream had quickly turned into a nightmare.
Doubtless her fear of being homeless was the cause.
“I swear on my mother’s grave,” Mr Chance snapped, “you will show some compassion, or I shall find her suitable accommodation elsewhere.”
“Have you lost your damn mind?” Anger coated every syllable. “This isn’t any bit of skirt. This is Lawton’s bloody daughter. The spawn of Satan.”
The sheer vehemence in his words jolted Isabella to her senses. This was by no means a dream or a nightmare. It was a terrifying reality. She opened her eyes, shocked to meet the gazes of two strapping men.
A scream caught in her throat. She shot up in a mad panic, slipped and would have tumbled from the bathtub had Christian Chance not caught her. Isabella gripped the man around the neck to keep her balance, her sodden shift wetting his waistcoat.
“Forgive us, Miss Lawton.” Warm hands settled on her hips, the heat seeping through the sheer material. “We should not have entered the room unannounced.”
“It’s my house,” moaned the dark-haired man who refused to look in her direction. “Miss Lawton is trespassing. She’s lucky I’ve not had her arrested.”
“Trespassing?” Isabella prised herself out of Mr Chance’s grasp and glanced around the room. No. This was her mother’s old chamber. She faced the black-haired devil. “You’re mistaken, sir. I spent the first ten years of my life in this house.”
His dark gaze sent a shiver down her spine. There was an air of authority about him no one dared question. “Get dressed, madam, and pack your things. You’re leaving.”
She recognised the dimple in the stranger’s proud chin, although Aaron Chance was nothing like the quiet, subdued boy she remembered. “You used to live next door, Mr Chance. Clearly, you’ve entered the wrong house by mistake.”
Aaron Chance withdrew a letter from his coat pocket, opened it and held it a few inches from her face. “I won this house in a card game. My solicitor’s letter proves I own the title deeds.”
Isabella scanned the legal document, the life draining from her body when she realised he spoke the truth. “I—I have nowhere else to go, sir.”
“We had nowhere to go when your father dragged us from our beds and threw us into a cart. You are not my problem, madam.”
Christian Chance intervened. “For the love of God, at least let her stay until she gets paid. I despise Lawton as much as you do but—”
“Evidently, you don’t.”
Isabella’s knees almost buckled. The determined look in Aaron Chance’s black eyes said nothing would alter his decision.
Resigned to her fate, she said, “I shall gather my belongings.” Though her teeth chattered from fear and the chill in the room, she raised her chin and glared at both brothers. “Or do you mean to throw me out in my shift?” Only when uttering the last word did she consider her state of undress. “At least have the decency to leave while I change.”
Aaron Chance turned on his heel and stormed from the room.
She met Christian’s gaze and noted the conflict in his striking blue eyes. He wanted to despise her. He wanted to feel hatred, and he probably did, to an extent, but the compassionate boy was not dead. He lived beneath this powerful construct of a man. A man who felt abiding loyalty to his brother.
