An Excerpt from A TOUCH OF STEELE . . .
“That night in Dublin,” Gwendolyn reminded Beck. “You wanted to kiss me.”
“And my head was bashed in for my efforts. That being said, don’t read too much into a kiss.”
Her head gave a little jerk, and her eyes widened as if he’d struck her. She folded her hands in her lap in that ladylike way of hers. She looked away as if she could see through the window shade. He waited, hoping for a tear or something that said she accepted his rude rejection.
And it felt mean. Too mean.
“I’m a loner, Miss Lanscarr. I like my life the way it is. I do not want any entanglements.”
“No one wishes to be alone. Not truly,” she answered.
“I do,” he assured her. “Especially for my work.”
“Skulking around.” She gave a dismissive sniff.
That offended Beck. “I do more than skulk.”
“And you could do it without staying in the shadows. Don’t you want more from life, Mr. Steele? Don’t you wish for more?”
“No.”
Her shoulders tightened. She looked away, her lips pressing together.
“Don’t think you can change me,” he said, his voice quiet and not unkind. “I don’t want to be changed.”
There was a long silence. He wondered what she was thinking. He reminded himself that this was for the best. Better to have it clear between them now, because the wound to her pride would be deeper if she misunderstood what was truly between them and he rejected her later.
And then, with a small shrug, she said, “Very well.”
“I do not wish to hurt you or offend you.”
“Understood. We are merely partners—”
“We are not partners.” This was what he feared. “You are to play cards. You do what I say. There is no partnership here.” He moved his hands back and forth to show that she had her work, and he had his.
“But if I learn something of importance—”
“You are to play cards.”
“Even if . . . ?”
“Cards only. Can you not understand?”
She gave him no answer. Instead, she seemed to study some point behind him. He knew then she was never going to agree.
Ultimately, it didn’t matter, he decided. Once they were at Colemore, Lady Orpington would keep her busy. Supposedly, the card playing began early in the morning and went into the night. There would be no time for her to pry.
And if he was lucky, he’d quickly find the answer to questions he didn’t know to ask. Sometimes life worked that way. A man had no choice but to take action and hope for the best.
He knocked on the roof, the sign to take Gwendolyn home.
They were quiet the rest of the way. She acted lost in thought. He believed the best way to reinforce his message was to let her be.
He reminded himself that the Lanscarr sisters were not afraid to defy convention. That had been the secret to their success. Well, that and tremendous luck.
They were like beautiful pirates who had set sail to conquer the ton, and conquer they had.
But this battle was his. He was the captain of this ship.
The coach rolled to a halt, and he peeked out of the shades to see they were in front of the Brogan residence. Beck reached for his hat so that he could help Gwendolyn down from the coach.
She stopped him with a hand on his arm. “You mustn’t. I am certain my sister is watching for me. She will be upset if she believes I have been riding alone with you.”
Well, at least she had that good sense.
The coach’s footman opened the door and put down the stool. Gwendolyn started from the vehicle, but then stopped. She looked back at Beck.
“I shall behave,” she whispered, “. . . because this means a great deal to you. However, you are wrong about the two of us. You can’t fight what already exists any more than you can stop dreams of your mother from haunting you.”
“Gwendolyn—” he started to correct her, frustrated by her stubbornness. But she was already out the door. Her manservant stood in the open portal of the house. She disappeared inside.
The footman picked up the stool. “Is all good, sir?”
“Fine,” Beck answered absently . . . but he knew that wasn’t true, because Gwendolyn was right.
What was between them already existed.
