Page 30 of Stolen By the Rogue
He leaned in, and their foreheads touched.
“But I haven’t finished apologizing yet.”
His lipscame down on hers, and all thoughts of pushing him away fled her mind.
Their other kisses had been slow and delicious, fueled by a glass or two of wine at the end of a pleasant evening by the river. This embrace was something entirely different. It was filled with heat and a passion that spoke of more than just joining forces to find the secret treasure, of them being bound to one another while traveling the road ahead.
Warm, strong fingers speared into her hair and gripped tight, setting her senses alight. There was something about a man holding a woman in such a way that had always thrilled Jane. It was a silent declaration of possession that she yearned for.
His tongue swept into her mouth, and she groaned. She exalted as he claimed all that she offered: every touch, every silent promise of forgiveness.
Yes.
For the longest time, George held her, his lips working masterfully over hers. It was only when he finally broke the embrace that she glanced down and caught sight of both her hands firmly gripping the front of his coat.
“If I was a more honorable man, I would say that we had just sealed our deal with a kiss, but since we both know that is not the case, we should get things in writing,” he said.
Jane released her hold. She sucked in a deep breath, but it did little to calm her racing heart. “Yes. I have an agreement in my satchel. Harry and Alice insisted that I have it drawn up, and I was most grateful that they did. After all I have been through in the past few years, it would be the ultimate irony to lose the treasure because I foolishly let my heart rule my head.”
Chapter Eighteen
The deed of sale for the house was signed and sealed within a week, the rental agreement finalized a few minutes later. George Hawkins was now the proud owner of his own dilapidated hovel, and Jane Scott his new tenant.
He also owed Lord Harry Steele the princely sum of two hundred pounds. Harry had offered to buy the house himself, but George and Jane were adamant that whatever treasure they might discover should be theirs alone. They didn’t want anyone else having a legal claim over the property.
With the instruction letter from George’s banker held tightly in his grubby hand, the former owner of number 11 Coal Yard Lane handed over the keys.
“Of course, when you open for business, you will oblige me with a few free visits to your girls.” He leaned in close, sharing his unwashed aroma with George. “But I would settle for an hour with that Jane girl. I reckon she would be a right goer on her back that one.”
George crushed the keys between his fingers, ignoring the pain of the iron as it dug into his flesh. He would love nothing more than to punch the man square in the face with them. The only thing holding him back was the reluctance to create an enemy of his neighbor.
He took several steps away from the man and glanced up at the front of the house. “Yes, well, we plan to do some renovations on the place before hanging out the sign for business. It needs a bit of work. Can’t have clients complaining about the filth,” he replied.
The man frowned. A quizzical look sat on his face.
Yes, I expect you are the sort of chap who has one bath a year whether you need it or not.
George had conducted some quiet investigations into the man’s background, and they shared a number of mutual criminal acquaintances. It wouldn’t do his cause any favors to go throwing punches. Personal vendettas were never good for business, especially when some of those associates were people George and Jane would likely need in order to sell some of the treasure when the time came.
If the time comes.
As the shopkeeper headed back to his store, George made his way to the front door of his new home. He sighed as he stepped inside. “Bloody hell, I have gone seriously into debt for this pile of shit. There had better be a bag of gold coins hidden somewhere or I will never get out from under my money problems.”
Harry would never force the issue of repayment—he didn’t need the money—but Jane was another matter. If they could find the treasure, George might stand a chance of keeping Jane in his life. Permanently.
While he waited for Jane to arrive, George took the opportunity to familiarize himself with the layout of the house.
There were four main floors, including three upper ones. A tiny cellar which had a good six inches of foul-smelling water covering its floor sat under a wooden cover in the corner of the kitchen. George prayed they found the treasure before anyone had to venture into that disgusting hole.
I don’t think we will be preparing any meals in this kitchen.
Outside at the rear of the house was a small yard. It had a long-forgotten vegetable patch, a privy of unknown age, and what looked like an old oak tree.
As he stood looking at the tree, George imagined sitting under it on a warm summer’s day. Jane would be resting her head in his lap while she told him another fascinating story of her life in the east. He would pass her a glass of wine and she would sip from it before offering her lips for yet another of his gentle kisses.
Now that would be a perfect day.
“Why did I try to steal the crown?” he muttered.
