Page 6 of Temptress in Disguise
Naomi had observed how Lydia treated her admirers. Such devious tactics would not work with Mr Chance. Honesty would ensure she prevailed.
“You may excel in the bedchamber, Mr Chance, but such attributes do not fascinate me.”
His arrogant snort said he was keen to prove her wrong. “How would a virgin know?”
“One does not need to down ten vials of laudanum to know it’s addictive. Lust is a drug like any other.”
“You could say that about most things. Happiness is a drug. People are forever chasing that elusive thing that makes them feel whole.”
“Happiness is a state of mind. People should look no further than their own thoughts.” She removed the handcuffs from her bag and threw them onto the seat beside him. “You can fight and argue and be disgruntled or sit calmly with your wrists in shackles.”
He pinned her to the seat with his stony gaze. “I’ll not sit here trussed up like a plucked pheasant. And I’ll not take you to the Copper Crown until you return the pistol to the box and tell me your name. Be warned. My patience is hanging by a thread.”
Naomi’s pulse raced.
She would be a fool to trust him. Equally, only a fool would think the threat of violence might sway his decision. Aramis Chance could fight Lucifer’s army and return unscathed. He knew she had no intention of pulling the trigger, and though they’d reached a stalemate, she had no option but to surrender.
“Then, I concede.” Her heart urged her to have faith. She held her breath while releasing the hammer. Under the power of his penetrating gaze, she returned the pistol to the box. “Let us begin again.” She offered her gloved hand. “Miss Grant. Miss Naomi Grant.”
Mr Chance stared at her hand. He considered the size and shape as if it were a strange object of art at a museum. With surprising hesitance, he slid his palm over hers and clasped her hand.
For some strange reason, they both inhaled sharply.
“Well, Miss Grant, you have managed an impossible feat.” His warm hand swamped hers as his commanding aura filled the space between them. “You have gained my undivided attention.”
She smiled to disguise the internal chaos. “Perhaps this will be amongst your list of most memorable meetings.”
“This tops my list of memorable meetings. It’s not often one is accosted by a lady bearing shackles.” He released his grip on her hand, snatched the locked handcuffs and slipped them into his coat pocket. “I trust you have the key.”
She nodded. “I didn’t plan to keep you a prisoner forever.” Once she had what she wanted, she would grant him his freedom.
A sinful smile touched his lips. “No, only until you’d used me for my brains and brawn. Indeed, I should feel quite violated.”
“As you have already explained, you’ve found yourself in worse situations. And you were never in danger of being ravished.”
“How disappointing.” Even when amused, the man had the presence of a panther—all silky black hair and dark, hypnotic eyes. A striking symbol of power and mastery. “As an actress, I’m sure you could convince me otherwise.”
Mr Chance was as quick-witted as he was commanding. Every sentence was constructed to gain more information. Though tempted to play along and weave a tale, Naomi had decided to approach her dilemma with integrity.
“I’m not an actress.”
“Then what were you doing at the Belldrake?”
Naomi tapped her finger to her lips before offering him an ultimatum. “I’ll say nothing more while we’re stationary.”
Mr Chance cursed under his breath. He might have protested had fate not handed Naomi a boon. A light tap on the window dragged another profanity from his lips.
“Hell and damnation.” He refused to acknowledge the two women peering through the window. “Ignore them, Miss Grant.” He thumped the carriage roof with his clenched fist and called for Godby to ferry them to Highgate.
The older woman opened the carriage door before the coachman could whip his reins into action. “Mr Chance. How fortuitous. My brother Henry was due to collect us after the performance but has failed to arrive. And here you are, coming to our aid like a knight of Camelot.”
Naomi thought it was a feeble excuse to gain his attention. She would have noticed a woman with a small canary nesting in her hat. And the patrons had left the theatre half an hour ago.
“I am otherwise engaged, Mrs Wendon. Please close the door.” The man made no secret of his wish to avoid them.
Mrs Wendon was undeterred. She shoved her daughter into the carriage. “Might we trouble you for a ride to Leicester Square? It’s not far and will be no inconvenience. Sit beside Mr Chance, Hester.” Amid the rustle of silk, Mrs Wendon climbed in behind her daughter. “She’s such an obedient girl, sir.”
Poor Hester looked like she’d been picked to be the next Viking sacrifice. Her pale skin turned blotchy, and she couldn’t quite catch her breath. She sat so close to the window that the carriage would likely tilt on its axis when they rounded the bend.
