Historical Romance May 2017 Books 1 - 4. Bronwyn Scott

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      Jasper stepped out of the shadow between the washstand and the armoire, took the towel from the rail and handed it to her. ‘The way you taught me to when we were children.’

      Except Jasper was no longer a boy; he was a man, as his semi-nakedness had proven today. She snatched the linen out of his outstretched hand, careful not to brush against him. He dropped down on the bench at the foot of her bed and watched her dry her face. Together with Milton, they had spent many nights huddled there, whispering their plots for surprising the housekeeper with frogs and getting a peek at the shops, at least until the day the adults had made it clear there were to be no more night-time games between them.

      ‘Is there some reason you decided to sneak past Philip’s men to come see me?’ She should speak to Philip about his men failing to guard the house, but she was more flattered than perturbed. Milton had never been so bold.

      ‘Yes, I received your note.’

      Jane twisted the towel between her hands. ‘And?’

      He shook his head. ‘You have to give up on the idea of us, Jane.’

      She tossed the damp towel on the washstand. ‘As you did when I was thirteen and I told you I’d wait for you?’

      ‘This isn’t a child’s game.’

      ‘Then why bother with all these theatrics? Send a note and be done with the matter.’

      ‘I can’t.’ Jasper came to stand over her. He smelled of night-air-dampened wool with a hint of spicy snuff. It was a heady mixture which enticed her to draw up on her toes and inhale, but she kept her feet firmly on the floor. If she was going to be rejected, again, it wouldn’t be while sniffing him. ‘I know you, Jane. Once you decide on something it’s difficult to talk you out of it, but I must.’

      She took a step back, ready to tease him with some of the same heat he’d tried to singe her with today. He wasn’t the only one who could play the game of wiles. ‘Are you sure that’s the only reason you’re here?’

      He slid his gaze down to her chemise and the tight breasts beneath it. She wasn’t sure what he could see through the wet cotton, but she hoped it was a great deal and made him at least regret his rejecting her. He took his time admiring her and she shifted on her feet, trying to ease the tension creeping through her. She was seized by the desire to fall on him and do all the things she’d imagined while she’d stared at his half-naked body in his room. There was no Philip to stop her. If Jasper took her in his arms and fulfilled the offer in the press of his lips against hers this afternoon, she wouldn’t put up much of a resistance.

      The low rumble of a suppressed laugh rippled out of his throat. ‘You think you know something of the world and men, but you don’t.’

      She raised her chin in defiance. ‘I know enough.’

      He leaned back against the bedpost and pinned her with the same wicked smile as he had right before he’d kissed her, his confidence as annoying as it was seductive. ‘You don’t know anything. Not about me or about life.’

      He was right and it chafed as much as the wet chemise sticking to her stomach. She’d seen nothing of the world and, except for this afternoon and a rather dull few minutes in the dark part of the garden with Milton, she had very little experience with men. ‘You think you’re the one to teach me?’

      ‘Yes, and I’ll prove it.’ He slid her dress off the chair where she’d tossed it and held it out to her. ‘I’m going to show you something no one else in London knows about me.’

      She tilted her head at him, puzzled by his sudden seriousness. Whatever he had planned clearly didn’t involve more of his naked body against hers. Too bad. ‘You have the French pox?’

      He jerked back. ‘No!’

      Well, at least this finally struck a blow. ‘Then simply have out with it and save us both the bother.’

      He shook the dress at her. ‘It’s better if you see it.’

      ‘I can’t. If I sneak out with you and Philip discovers me gone, he’ll commit me to a convent.’ She’d wounded her brother enough today with her silly scheme. She didn’t want to worry him if he came in and found her gone.

      ‘You have to be Catholic to become a nun.’

      ‘Not with Philip’s contacts.’ Her brother knew someone everywhere and could always get exactly what he wanted when he wanted it. She wished she were so abundantly influential.

      ‘Well, before you’re cloistered, come with me. You’ll understand why we can’t marry after you see it and how the fault is with me, not you.’

      The pain edging his entreaty made her heart ache. She wanted to pull him out of his darkness, not because she was plotting to ensnare his hand, but because she didn’t want her old friend to suffer alone the way she did. ‘I don’t care about your faults.’

      He lowered the dress, his expression filled with the same anguish as the night he’d told her about his parents’ plans to send him to apprentice with his uncle. She held her breath, silently urging him to confide in her once more, but as fast as the old Jasper appeared he was gone, covered by the smooth gallant who’d embraced her this afternoon. ‘Come on, the Jane I used to know wouldn’t have shied away from an adventure.’

      He was right. She’d always been the one to drag the Charton brothers into mischief. How things had changed. Milton had turned out to be a bigger rat than the ones shuffling along the garden wall, Jasper had gone off to find his life and Jane was still waiting for hers. Tonight she would have it. ‘All right, I’ll go with you.’

      She took the garment, her fingers brushing his before she pulled back. It was as fleeting a touch as a raindrop, but it doused any remaining reservations she might have about going with him. This was dangerous, not in a get-with-child way, but in a lose-your-head-and-be-hurt-again sort of way. However, while they were together tonight there was still a chance to change his mind.

      She snapped out the dress then lowered it to step inside, very aware of how bending over revealed the tops of her full breasts above the stays and how keenly he watched her. She hid her sly smile by focusing on doing up the tapes. Let him be tempted and then try to tell her he wanted none of it. She didn’t believe him or the salaciousness of his secret. They were rarely as interesting or as awful as people painted them.

      When she was done dressing and had donned a sturdy pelisse, he held out his hand to her, his fingers long and his palm wide. ‘Are you ready?’

      Her heart raced as the old memories collided with the coming thrill of a new adventure. She hadn’t felt this excited or daring in ages. She slipped her hand in his, drawing in a sharp breath as his fingers closed around hers. ‘Yes.’

      * * *

      ‘You can’t marry me because of a warehouse?’ Jane stared up at the squat building, the mouldy stench of the nearby Thames River making her wrinkle her nose. ‘These don’t frighten me. Philip owns a few.’

      ‘It’s not the warehouse, it’s what’s inside.’ He fiddled with a small iron ring, making the keys hanging off it clatter together.

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