Lady of Desire by Gaelen Foley Page A

swiftly reviewed their conversation and shook his head as he realized. “It’s what she let me assume.”
    Lucien gave him a wan smile. “She’s devious like that.” He sighed. “Who can fathom the mind of a woman? And that one’s as mad as her mother.”
    Blade looked away uneasily, beginning to wonder all at once if he had done the wrong thing by bringing her back. She had confided in him; he had told her he would listen. But had he?
    With a sigh, Lucien turned to him and extended his hand. “Thank you for bringing her back safely, Blade.” He shook his hand firmly. “God knows, anything might have happened to her out there. I owe you, truly. If there is anything I can do, you have but to name it.”
    “It was nothing,” he said gruffly, remembering her icy taunting about his getting a reward for this. He turned to leave, his mood gone surly, then stopped himself halfway across the pavement. He rolled his eyes in self-disgust and turned around again.
    “Lucien.”
    “Yes?” The man paused, reaching for the doorknob.
    He braced himself. “I kissed her, all right?”
    Lucien’s eyes narrowed. “
What? ”
    “I didn’t know she was your sister! She refused to tell me her name until after I had already done it.”
    The ex-spy held him in a grim stare. “Why are you telling me this?”
    “Why the hell do you think? Because you’d find out anyway. And… because I want you to know, it wasn’t her fault. It was all my doing.”
    He waited for a charge, a punch, possibly a bullet.
    “Your fault?” Lucien echoed, sizing him up.
    “Entirely.”
    Both men knew it was a lie, the best kind—a chivalrous one.
    “Well, I should say,” Lucien sputtered, “you’re damned right it was your fault!”
    “That’s right, and I apologize.” Blade regarded him with a stare as deliberately obtuse as that of an ox.
    Lucien studied him for a long moment in his piercing way. “Do not attempt to see her again, Rackford— at least, not until you are prepared to return to the life you left. She is the daughter of a duke.”
    “I have no intention of it,” he answered coldly, “and the name is Blade.”
    “As you prefer. If that is all, I will bid you good night.”
    Blade tossed him an insolent nod.
    “One more thing,” Lucien added, pausing in the doorway. “I was sorry to hear about your brother.”
    Blade just looked at him. The man knew too damned much about everyone and everything.
    With a cordial nod, Lucien went back inside and shut the door firmly behind him. Blade heard a series of locks sharply sliding home as he walked away, and he took insult even though he knew none was intended. He looked over his shoulder in scorn.
Don’t worry, Lord Lucien. If I wanted to break into your house, I could do it in a trice
.
    Bloody aristocrats. His mood gone foul, he jumped up onto the driver’s bench and sat with Jimmy for the ride back to the rookery. He didn’t need to be driven around Town like a bloody prince.
    As the coach wove through the dark, deserted streets, he looked down broodingly at his rough, callused hands resting loosely on his lap. They shook with anger and shame at the reminder of just how far he had fallen in life and with the cold, slightly nauseating uneasiness of a schoolboy who has just pinned the wings of a butterfly that he had thoughtlessly netted in a sunny meadow.
    The last thing he had wanted was to hurt her.
    Waiting for her brother in the darkened front parlor, Jacinda paced in restless agitation until she heard the front door close as Lucien came in. She rushed to the sofa and quickly sat down, smoothing her skirts. She lifted her chin and squared her shoulders, braced for battle. The diplomatic Lucien was her most broad-minded, lenient brother, but—still. This time she knew she was in for it.
    He strode in a moment later and propped his fists on his waist, shaking his head at her. “You are in the suds, my girl.”
    She clenched her jaw and looked away.
    “Are you completely