Scandalous Desires (Maiden Lane #3)(56)

He laughed.

“Because”—he leaned down and licked at the tears on her cheeks, his lips brushing softly against her sensitive skin as he spoke, “ye’ve bewitched and bespelled me, my sweet Silence, didn’t ye know? I’ll agree that the sky is pink, that the moon is made o’ marzipan and sugared raisins, and that mermaids swim the muddy waters o’ the Thames, if ye’ll only stop weepin’. Me chest breaks apart and gapes wide open when I see tears in yer pretty eyes. Me lungs, me liver, and me heart cannot stand to be thus exposed.”

She stopped breathing. She simply inhaled and stopped, looking at him in wonder. His lips were quirked in a mocking smile, but his eyes—his fathomless black eyes—seemed to hold a great pain as if his strong chest really had been split open.

HER EYES STILL swam with tears, blue-green and woebegone. Why the sight should pain him so Mick didn’t know. He’d seen men gutted and killed, watched starving women prostitute themselves, seen beggar children lay down in the gutter and die. He’d fought with tooth and nail to reach the place where he was now—where he didn’t worry over food or a roof over his head. He’d killed men and never thought about their faces again.

Yet the sight of Silence in tears nearly unmanned him.

He glanced away from her face uneasily. That way lies pain. “Come. I’ve somethin’ to show ye.”

He took her hand and led her toward the kitchen door.

“But Mary—” she protested.

He tilted his chin to where the toddler giggled as she pulled at Lad’s ears. “She’ll be fine with Bert and Harry to watch over her. We’ll be only a moment.”

She trailed after him, casting worried looks at the baby until they were inside. “Where are we going?”

“To me throne room.” He led her through back passages and stairs until they reached the echoing hall that he received visitors in.

Bob, guarding the door, looked curious as Mick approached with Silence, but the guard merely nodded.

“See that we’re not disturbed.” Mick drew open the heavy wooden doors.

Inside he strode quickly to a chest he’d had set beside his throne. He threw open the lid and drew out a shimmering blue silk gown.

“What is it?” Silence asked as if she’d never seen such a dress.

He rolled his eyes. “It’s a dress. For ye.”

She backed a step, looking mulish. “I can’t wear that.”

Ah, now he had to be careful. He held up the dress, letting the light play on the gorgeous fabric. “Ye told me ye were bored. Wouldn’t ye like to get away from me palace?”

“Yes, but—”

“But,” he interrupted, “if ye wish to go out wi’ me, ye must wear this. The dress yer wearin’ now won’t do.”

She bit her lip, eyeing the iridescent blue silk.

“It was given to me,” he lied, “by a sea captain wantin’ me to do him a favor. I haven’t a use for it m’self.”

He held the dress against his chest, drawing a reluctant smile from her. In fact, like a besotted lover, he’d spent half a day searching for a ready-made gown especially for her. That information, however, was unlikely to make her want to take the gown. He knew instinctively that accepting such a costly gift—such an elegant gift—from him would outrage her puritanical morals.

“Or would ye rather be spendin’ another evenin’ by the fire in yer rooms?” he asked casually. His fingers trailed over the shining skirts.

Her eyes darted to his face. He could see she was wavering. “Where do you intend to take me?”

He shook his head. “It’s to be a surprise.”

Her brows knit and her lips parted as if to protest.

“But it’s respectable,” he hastily added. “I promise.”

He held his breath, waiting to hear her answer. Wanting her to accept.

“I haven’t anything else to wear with such a fine gown.” She blushed at even the oblique mention of underclothes.

He fought down a grin, trying to look innocent instead. “I’m thinkin’ ye’ll find the items ye need in the bottom o’ that there trunk.”

“But—”

He was already striding to the throne room doors. She’d decided when she asked about things to wear with the dress. If he hesitated, she’d have time to rethink her decision.

Mick pulled open the doors and spoke to Bob. “Send two lads here to take a chest to Mrs. Hollingbrook’s room.”

Bob nodded. “Right ye are.” He scurried off down the corridor.

Mick turned back to Silence. She was still standing by the chest, but she was looking about the room as well. “Why keep so many of your souvenirs in one room? Aren’t you afraid of thieves?”

Mick smiled. “Ye think I’d be robbed in me own home?”

Pink tinted her cheeks. “No, of course not. But your men might be tempted.”

“Pay them well, I do,” Mick said simply. “Better, mind, than they could get anywhere else in London. And if they’re still tempted, well… believe it or not, m’love, but I’ve somethin’ o’ a reputation amongst violent men.”

She shivered and turned away, peering at a marble cherub. “I know.”

He tilted his head, watching her. His violence upset her, he knew, but since he couldn’t change who he was, he dismissed it from his mind.