An Unlikely Alliance Read online

  Now they were alone in his house late into the evening. And oddly enough, he hadn't a thought about seduction, only about her welfare, which was an entirely new experience for him.

  "Whiskey?" he offered once she was settled in his study with a thick blanket.

  "Please." Her eyebrow arched as she accepted the glass. "I am feeling a lot better. I don't know what came over me."

  "You don't seem to be one to swoon," Royce agreed, pacing in front of her. "Did you get any sleep last night? Have you had enough water? Maybe you need more food. Oh God, I made you eat your dinner in a rush!"

  "Royce."

  His mind exploded with possibilities. What if the rat had gotten into the food, and he fed that same food to her, and she was going to die and—

  "Royce," the tiny woman yelled from the couch. "Stop pacing, and for the love of God, sit down! I'm fine!"

  "Oh, right then." He sat, feeling rather awkward that she had to yell to get him to calm down. In less than twenty-four hours, this was what he had resorted to. Pacing, panicking, drinking, and paranoia. Perfect.

  "This is good."

  "What?" He looked up and noticed her glass was empty. The minx had actually drunk the entire thing in one sitting. In less than a minute. Embarrassed, he looked down at his full cup and threw it back, praying he wouldn't cough from the dry alcohol as it drained slowly down his throat.

  He pounded his chest to keep from choking. Then smiled.

  "It's strong." He coughed.

  "I hadn't noticed." Evelyn stretched her arms over her head like a little kitten. Or, on second thought, a tame tiger. Or maybe…

  He shook his head. "I'll get you another."

  "Yes, but only one. I can't go home foxed; my daddy would throw a fit."

  Bringing the glass to her, he sat and slowly sipped. "You could always stay the night."

  "Royce McArthur, that was the worse seduction I've ever experienced."

  "I'm terribly out of practice," he admitted, drinking the rest of his whiskey. "I doubt I even know how to kiss a woman anymore."

  Evelyn rolled her eyes. "That's more like it."

  "Why, whatever do you mean?" His hand went across his chest. "I'll have you know it's been years since I've properly kissed a woman."

  "Now it's my turn to call your bluff."

  "Very well, you're right, but at least I'm honest." Their hands brushed as he took her glass and set it on the table. "Since we're being honest, I think I should tell you something."

  She swallowed and looked at him nervously. "What's that?"

  "I desperately want to kiss you."

  Royce hoped his declaration would pay off as his gaze rested on her lips. Her hand came up to touch his face. His eyes closed, and he grabbed her wrists, lifting her closer to his face.

  "There you two are!" his mother announced as she glided into the room.

  Royce cursed under his breath and released his hold on Evelyn.

  "Yes. Despite all my prayers heavenward, you have found us." Royce went up to greet his mother with a kiss. It was then he noticed another intruder, Evelyn's father, hopefully sans pistols, because Royce didn't feel like being shot tonight. It wasn't as if he had compromised the girl. He hadn't even kissed her. Yet.

  Mr. De Jarlias went to his daughter and smiled. "Are you feeling any better?"

  "Oh, much, Daddy. I'm so thankful for Mr. McArthur."

  Royce let out the breath he had been holding and winked at his mother, who shook her head and rolled her eyes all at the same time.

  "Well, we should be off." Mr. De Jarlias looked to Royce's mom and winked.

  Wait, what just happened? Was his mother blushing? Suspicious, he watched as Mr. De Jarlias bent to kiss his mother's hand.

  "Okay, Casanova, time to go," Royce said, pushing them out. He blew a kiss towards Evelyn and watched as her father packed her up into their carriage.

  "Mother," he said, feeling her presence behind him. "Tell me that wasn't what I think it was."

  "Oh, honey, nobody would ever find you guilty of logical thought."

  With that, his minx of a mother walked up the stairs without bidding him good night. Something was going on between those two. And he was going to find out what. If only to satisfy his own curiosity, and possibly to gain entrance into Evelyn's house, since he was done with flowers, jewels, food, and anything else of good use during courting.

  Chapter Seven

  Royce knocked twice on Evelyn's door before it opened. The butler, not one of Royce's many admirers, stared at him as if he was a rat needing to be exterminated.

  "Ah, how are you this fine morning?" Royce patronized.

  Awkward silence followed.

  "Right then, is Evelyn home?"

  The butler grunted, and then opened the door a little wider, letting Royce in. He was actually being granted entrance, and he had no gifts.

  Evelyn appeared. "You look shocked. I told him the only way he could let you in was if you were bleeding to death, or if you ceased bringing gifts like you promised. Since I can't see any blood, I can only assume you've brought me nothing?"

  "Your assumptions are correct. I have no gifts, no pretty words, and no blood. I hate to disappoint your butler. I think he'd rather I be bleeding."

  "Nonsense."

  Royce smiled. She cared. She had to.

  "We just had the floors redone, and it would be an awful stain to try to get out, wouldn't it?"

  He deserved that after haughtily thinking he could sweep her off her feet so easily upon their first meeting. At least she was speaking to him now.

  "There has been a development," he said, taking a seat in the salon.

  "A development?" Tea arrived as Evelyn took her seat across from him. "And just what has developed in the past twelve hours, Royce?"

  It was hard for him to speak after hearing his name so casually on her lips.

  Shaking his head, he answered, "Our parents."

  "What about our parents?" She reached for a biscuit.

  "They are hiding something."

  "And just when did you discover you had a problem?" Evelyn answered.

  "Problem?" Confusion made him look around the room as if she was playing a joke. "What problem?"

  "The drinking. You are drunk, aren't you? It's the only explanation I can think of."

  "No, I'm not." Frustrated, he raked his hand through his hair. "I'll prove it to you!"

  "Prove what?"

  "The sneaking around, the hidden looks, the winking!"

  Evelyn looked at him like he was crazed.

  "I'm being serious; stop laughing at me."

  Obviously, she couldn't help it, for it was a good five minutes before she wiped the tears from her eyes. "Are you making this up so you can spend time with me?"

  "Although my behavior in the past would point you to that obvious conclusion, no. I'm not making it up, and my mother didn't even deny it! Like I said, I'll prove it."

  "When?" she asked, looking more amused than she should.

  "Tonight!" He pointed into the air with triumph. "I overheard the butler, who was talking to the kitchen staff, who were preparing a private dinner for my mother and a guest this evening!"

  "And you overheard it from the butler, who heard it from the kitchen staff?"

  Royce's brow furrowed. "Well, when you repeat it like that, it doesn't sound as impressive. Let's just for one minute say I'm right. Wouldn't you want to know if your daddy was cavorting with a woman?"

  "Fine, you've made your point. But if you're lying, Royce McArthur, I might find that knife again."

  "Impossible. I've hidden all sharp objects. For my personal safety, you understand."

  Rolling her eyes, she took another sip of tea. "Where shall I meet you?"

  He looked appalled. "Meet me? We can't have you meet me anywhere! Just think! A young girl walking the streets like a common—"

  Her eyebrows lifted ever so slightly.

  So he finished, "—person. I'm going to come fetch you a
t seven tonight. We will then make our way to my house, where we will sneak into the back via the servants' entrance."

  "Perfect."

  She sounded less than enthused.

  "You could sound a bit more excited about our secret rendezvous." He pouted, crossing his arms.

  "First off, it's not a lovers' rendezvous. If you're tricking me, I'm finding the closest weapon and using it. Second." She held up her tiny hand, trying to be threatening. "It's not technically a secret, because everyone involved knows about it."

  "Our parents don't know."

  "Ah, but they don't know we know, so it's different."

  Royce felt confused. "Wait. That still means it's a secret."

  "It's not a secret!" she snapped, nearly dropping her teacup.

  Carefully, as to not scare the girl, he took the teacup from her hands and started talking in soft tones. "Okay, you win. It's not a secret. Have you by, uh, any chance eaten more than the biscuits here today? I think you're hungry. It's probably why you were so weak yesterday. You're spending all your energy fighting your feelings. Maybe you should just give in to your basic needs."

  "Royce." Evelyn placed her finger over her temple as if she were trying to conjure up some semblance of patience. "I'm not hungry, for either type of food."

  "But you're grumpy, and last time you were grumpy—last time being the ball, you were grumpy. At least somewhat. You wouldn't even let me seduce you in the gardens. Next time I plan a seduction, I do intend to feed you first, so your body is so busy digesting your food, you won't even notice my sneak attack."

  Evelyn smiled. "None of what you just said had even a hint of romance. You do realize that, don't you?"

  Royce shrugged. "I've lost my touch. At least that's how it's been ever since we've been keeping company."

  "Correction. You've been trying to keep company; I've been trying to elude said company."

  He laughed, pushing himself off of the sofa. "Oh is that right?"

  The air in the room became ripe with tension as he braced both sides of her chair with his hands and leaned down. "Admit it. You kind of like me."

  She met his gaze and swallowed. "Lying is a sin."

  "So give an honest answer." His breath fanned over her face as he whispered into her ear. "I'm waiting."

  Another long pause.

  He decided it was as good a time as any to let her know what she was missing by constantly rejecting him, and then he saw her face. It looked … oh, no. It looked vulnerable and—dare he hope—willing. He couldn't seduce her, not when she looked so pure and innocent—and perfect.

  As he looked down at her perfect lips, he couldn't remember why he was arguing with himself over seducing her. That was the intended purpose. Without any more thought, he brought his lips to hers in a chaste kiss, fully expecting to be rejected. Instead, she moaned and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him almost into her lap.

  Not one to ever say no to a beautiful woman he desired, Royce deepened the kiss. Slipping past the defense of her lips, using his tongue to draw her more and more into his haze of seduction.

  Her grasp tightened on his neck, and he struggled to coherently think of a way he could continue kissing her without compromising her or causing such a commotion as to scare her off. And then she kissed him back.

  He had thought she was kissing him before. No, he was wrong. Royce was hardly ever wrong, but in this instance, he was thankful. For the innocent was not so innocent as to not understand how to kiss a man and make it count.

  Forgetting his name, his purpose in life, and forsaking all else, Royce lifted her out of the chair and pulled her into a tight embrace, moving her to the nearest settee, so he could fully take advantage of the privacy offered.

  And then, for some reason, as he brought her close to the settee, so close to where he wanted her to be, she stiffened.

  He recoiled, knowing he fully deserved to be slapped.

  Instead, she pulled back, gasped, put her hand over her mouth, and shook her head. "I don't know what came over me!"

  Oddly enough, Royce had a few things he could say to her little outburst, but wisdom told him to stay put. Unfortunately for Royce, he rarely listened to wisdom, so he decided to say, "I certainly do!" And then promptly winked.

  "Ah ha! There it is!" he exclaimed as her hand flew through the air in the direction of his face. He quickly grabbed her flying hand and twisted her into an embrace, pinning her hands down by her sides, so he could freely whisper into her ear. "Don't overthink it. I'll see you tonight. At seven. Be ready."

  With that he slowly released her and stalked out of the room. The grin on his face was not lost on the butler, who slammed the door behind him.

  Whoever said Southerners were the friendliest people around had obviously not met the De Jarlias family or their staff.

  Seven couldn't come soon enough.

  Chapter Eight

  Evelyn felt like a fool. She had kissed a man she was certain she despised, and she had thoroughly enjoyed it! What was wrong with her? She wanted to scream, yet the only thoughts she could string together had to do with the way Royce's hands felt on her back and her face. Or the way his lips felt against hers. It was perfect. If she was ever asked to describe the perfect kiss, that would have been it. She hated him for it.

  At seven she finally donned her darkest gown, thinking since she was supposed to be spying, she might as well dress the part.

  Next, she mentally prepared herself against seduction. The sly grins, the barest of touches, the sweet smell of man—she had to resist or flee temptation altogether. She wasn't doing this for Royce; she was doing this for her father. To protect him from…

  Well, what was she actually trying to protect him from? A knock on the door stirred her thoughts more. It had taken some persuasion but she had offered their butler the night off. Not only did he despise Royce, but the idea of her daddy finding out about her spying did not settle well. She walked over and pulled open the door, revealing a painfully handsome Royce. It was some kind of mean trick from God. Why did all the attractive men have to be cads? As if on cue, Royce flashed a brilliant smile, making her feel like punching him in the gut and slamming the door on his hand.

  "I know what you're thinking."

  "Impossible," she grumbled, stepping out into the cool night air.

  Royce fell into step beside her and offered a mocking laugh. "You were thinking about causing me physical harm. Ah, yes. I can see by the stern look on your face you're upset I can read you so well. Sorry." He shrugged, lifting his hands into the air. "It's your eyes."

  "My eyes?" Did this man ever censor his speech?

  "Yes. Your beautiful 'I want to get lost and never be found' eyes. They reveal too much of your feelings. Most of the ladies around here make it a practice to hide what they're thinking as a way to catch a husband. You, on the other hand, have a tendency to wear your heart on your sleeve. I assure you, it's endearing."

  How had the conversation gone from Evelyn causing him physical harm to compliments about her eyes? Self-consciously, she reached up and pulled the hooded cloak farther over her face.

  "Don't." Royce reached out and grabbed her wrists. "I like to see your face."

  It wasn't the most romantic of compliments, but for some reason, it made Evelyn truly see Royce for the first time. The way his eyes lit up when he was being himself—when he was being serious about something.

  Shuddering, she pulled back, but as they walked along in silence, there was nothing she could do to rub away the tingling sensations his hands had left on her wrists.

  Something between them had changed, and she had good reason to believe it started with a dinner date gone wrong, and then the kiss, and now their excursion. She shook her head, hoping the physical act of shaking would force the looming thoughts out of her mind.

  "Here we are!" Royce announced upon reaching his mansion.

  Evelyn nearly choked. Her eyes greedily scanned the home in front of her. Home? It was no h
ome; it was one of the most beautiful houses she had ever seen. Just how rich were the McArthurs? And why hadn't she noticed the beautiful home before when she had stayed with Royce during the theatre mishap?

  "Few things you should know," he whispered, escorting her towards the back. "We own a successful fleet of ships which happily row across the ocean to deliver our famous whiskey."

  "Whiskey?"

  "Yes, the same whiskey you had the other night? My family's whiskey. We own shares in a few other silly little ventures as well, but my father left everything to me. I'm the one in charge. My mother is also in my care, which is why I feel the need to be so protective of her."

  "I understand."

  "Yes, I know you do. So we are in agreement then?"

  "Agreement?" Just what had she agreed to do whilst kissing this handsome man?

  Royce opened the gate and shooed her towards the back end of the house. "We agree our parents should not get involved."

  "I guess," she heard herself say, although she wasn't particularly convinced of her answer. Her own mother had been dead for some time. It would be good for her daddy to find some happiness. She just wasn't sure he would find happiness with Mrs. McArthur.

  "Stay very quiet," Royce ordered as they reached the servants' entrance. In order to make sure she understood, he held his finger up to his lips, motioning for her to be quiet yet again.

  Rolling her eyes, she stepped over the threshold and was immediately pushed back against the wall.

  "What the—" she whispered. She would have yelled, but Royce had his hand over her mouth, shaking his head furiously from side to side.

  And then someone walked right by them. Luckily they were shrouded in darkness, so they weren't discovered. In those inappropriately close quarters, Evelyn could have sworn Royce could hear her heart beating.

  Her feelings were getting out of control fast. Way too fast for her liking. Granted, he was an agreeable man, but he was vain and selfish. No gentle-bred Southern girl would tie the knot with him—not if they were offered all the gold in the world. And yet … as his piercing eyes locked with hers, she was lost again.