LITMIR.BIZ

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only his hands on her body, no press of a gun or knife.

      “If I move my hand, will you listen to me?”

      She nodded, the voice oddly seductive in the dim light of the closet.

      “Since I don’t fully believe you won’t scream, let me give you one more piece of advice, Peach.”

      She stilled, the strange sense that he spoke the truth filtering in through the fear as the odd endearment sent a shiver down her spine. What was likely a simple way to address her in lieu of her name felt different somehow.

      On his lips the name felt lush. And seductive?

      While she wasn’t all that familiar with the sensation, she’d read more than enough romances to wish for a little seduction in her life. Had giggled with her girlfriends over the very same.

      “That gunshot you blithely ignored in favor of heading in here? The man with the gun and two of his friends are still outside the house. So I suggest you do nothing to alert them to our presence.”

      Whatever sensitive emotion had momentarily gripped her fled at the very real threat that awaited both of them. The man lifted his hand and Rowan took her first easy breath since he’d captured her. Although he’d removed the cover over her mouth, the press of his body still held her in place facing the safe.

      “Wh-who are they?” Her breath hitched on the words and she winced at the weakness.

      “I don’t know but I suspect they’re after the same thing we both are.”

      “The bracelet?” Her voice was stronger and she squared her shoulders under his grip.

      “The very same.”

      “How would they know about it?”

      “Seems as if Lord Warrington purchased something that wasn’t really for sale.”

      “He stole this bracelet?”

      “Steal is such an ugly word when there is a payment involved. He claims he purchased it rightfully, but it’s been whispered in several places he knew full well the bracelet rightfully belonged to another.”

      The cryptic answer stilled her and Rowan tried once more to turn in his arms. “How do I know you’re not with them?”

      “I work alone.” The words were swift and immediate and she didn’t know why she believed him, but she did.

      “I can feel the brush of your ski mask against my head. Can I just turn around to talk to you? I clearly won’t be able to identify you.”

      A light laugh drifted over her as the velvet pouch was snatched from her hand and then the heavy press of his body vanished. Rowan wondered briefly at the loss of warmth before the thought fled and she turned to face her captor.

      Her very first impression was one of broad shoulders encased in black. The tight shirt he wore tapered to slender hips and long legs that made her think of the gangly height of her older brother Campbell. The wool mask she’d felt whisper against her head covered his face; odd that something she’d normally think of as scary or menacing only left her curious to see the face underneath.

      Rich hazel eyes glittered from the holes in the mask’s face and she forgot herself for the briefest of moments when her gaze locked with his.

      On a hard shake of her head, Rowan focused on the problem at hand. What was the matter with her? “Who’s out there?”

      A quick light flashed across his eyes before being replaced by a hard glint that matched his next words. “A few blokes who want what’s in here and thought tonight would be a good night to case the joint. Just like you and me.”

      “How could they know that?”

      “How’d you know that?”

      The words were nearly out—that she knew the family—when she bit them back on a hard clench of her teeth. He might be a friend for the moment, but the man clad head to toe in black wasn’t to be trusted.

      “Come on, Peach. Close that safe door and let’s figure out how we’re going to get out of here.” The name whispered across her nerve endings once more, and Rowan tamped down on the delicious clench that seized her belly.

      Rowan closed and locked the safe as directed. “There are servants’ stairs at the end of the hall at the back of the house.”

      “They’ve got three guys. One’s no doubt back there.” The masked man never turned as he reached for her hand and dragged her from the closet. He gestured with his free hand as they crossed the broad expanse of Lady Warrington’s room. “Over there. Behind the curtains.”

      “We can’t hide behind the curtains. They’ll find us for sure.”

      “No, they’ll find us in the hallway, which is likely where they’re headed now.”

      “They can’t get in that fast.”

      “Of course they can. Especially since they’ve probably breached the back door you so kindly left unarmed.” He turned to look at her. “You do realize you’re not the only person in London in possession of lock picks?”

      Once again Rowan was forced to clamp down on a retort, the truth of his words striking deep.

      Why hadn’t she quit when she was ahead?

      The gunshot had been scary enough. She’d known once she got to safety between the chimneys that it was time to get out of there.

      So why had she assumed the threat had vanished?

      The image of her hand closing over the velvet bag holding the bracelet popped into her mind like a lure, but for the first time in four years the thought of possessing something not hers fell flat.

      Her captor—partner in crime?—pushed her behind the heavy curtains decorated with large, rather unattractive cabbage roses that hung along the wall of Lady Warrington’s bedroom. Rowan felt the dusty air swirl around her as the man fluffed the thick floor-to-ceiling pleats into place.

      “Shhh, Peach.”

      “Why—”

      The question was cut off by his hand as he covered her mouth and she caught the vague image of him shaking his head in the darkened space.

      And then there were no words—not even breath—as the thick, old door to the bedroom slammed open, knocking against the wall.

      “She in there?”

      “No one’s in here.” A Cockney accent reached her ears, although it was muffled slightly through the curtain, and Rowan prayed the voice belonged to a man too dumb to do a thorough search of the room.

      The voice that belonged to the man who hunted her pressed on. “This was her destination.”

      “Place looks untouched, guv.”

      Rowan could only thank the heavy rug that covered the floor didn’t show footprints the same way plush carpet would have, and her esteem for Lady Warrington’s decorating skills rose a notch.

      “Did you search it?”

      “Look. She’s not here, I tell ya. Let’s look at the safe.” The muffled sound of footsteps crossing the room, then the nearly soundless swing of the closet doors broke the silence. “Look. Safe hasn’t even been touched.”

      “Maybe she cracked it.”

      “Little bit of fluff like her?”

      “Don’t underestimate her. Size has little to do with skill.”

      A low grumble echoed from the closet and Rowan had to strain to hear the response. “She was on the roof not ten minutes ago. How’d she get in here, crack the safe and get away?”

      The idea that the gunshot had happened less than ten minutes ago surprised Rowan. If she’d been asked, she’d have surely said she and the man in black

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