Everything and the Moon (The Lyndon Sisters #1)(50)

Robert's hand moved to the back of her head. His touch was achingly soft. If he had applied pressure or tried to force her, she knew she could have resisted. But his gentleness was disarming, and she couldn't pull away.

His lips touched hers, brushing back and forth until he felt her soften beneath him. His tongue moistened one corner of her mouth, then the other, then outlined the edge of her full lips.

Victoria thought she might melt.

But then he pulled away. His hands were shaking. Victoria looked down and realized that hers were, too.

“I know my limits,” he said in a low voice.

Victoria blinked, realizing with despair that she didn't know her own. Another second of his sensual torture and she would have been on the floor of the carriage, begging him to love her. Shame colored her face and she left the carriage, letting MacDougal take her trembling hand in his to help her down. Robert followed immediately after her, and then swore viciously when he realized where he was.

Victoria didn't quite live in the worst part of town, but it came damn close. It took Robert a good ten seconds before he was calm enough to say, “Please tell me you don't live here.”

She gave him an odd look and pointed to a fourth-story window. “Right there.”

Robert's throat worked violently. “You…are not…going to remain here,” he said, barely able to get the words out.

Victoria ignored him and began to walk toward her building. Robert had his arm around her waist within seconds. “I don't want to hear another word out of you,” he barked. “You are coming home with me this instant.”

“Let go of me!” Victoria struggled under his grasp, but Robert held firm.

“I will not permit you to remain in such a dangerous neighborhood.”

“I can't imagine I'd be any safer with you,” she retorted.

Robert softened his grip, but refused to relinquish his hold on her arm. Then he felt something on his foot and looked down.

“Bloody frigging hell!” He kicked his foot out wildly, sending a good-sized rat out into the street.

Victoria took advantage of his predicament by wrenching her arm from his grasp, and she ran to the relative safety of her building.

“Victoria!” Robert bellowed, following her. But when he yanked the door open, all he saw was a fat old lady with blackened teeth.

“And 'oo might you be?” she demanded.

“I am the earl of Macclesfield,” he roared, “and get the hell out of my way.”

The woman planted her hand against his chest. “Not so fast, yer lordship.”

“Remove your hand from my person, if you please.”

“Remove yer sorry ass from my house, if you please,” she cackled. “We don't allow men in 'ere. This be a respectable house.”

“Miss Lyndon,” Robert bit out, “is my affianced bride.”

“Didn't look that way to me. In fact, it looked like she didn't want anything to do with you.”

Robert looked up and saw Victoria peering at him through a window. Rage poured through him. “I will not stand for this, Victoria!” he bellowed.

She merely shut the window.

For the first time in his life Robert truly learned the meaning of seeing red. When he'd thought Victoria had betrayed him seven years earlier, he'd been too pathetically heartbroken for this brand of fury. But now—Goddamn it, he'd been bloody frantic for more than two weeks, not knowing what the devil had happened to her. And now that he'd finally found her, not only had she thrown his proposal of marriage back in his face, but she insisted on living in a neighborhood peopled with drunks, thieves, and whores.

And rats.

Robert watched as a street urchin picked the pocket of an unsuspecting man across the street. He exhaled raggedly. He was going to have to get Victoria out of this neighborhood, if not for her safekeeping then for the sake of his sanity.

It was a miracle she hadn't been raped or murdered already.

He turned back to the landlady just in time to see the door slam in his face and hear a key turn in the lock. He crossed the short distance to the spot just below Victoria's window and started to eye the side of the building, looking for possible footholds for his ascent to her room.

“Milord.” MacDougal's voice was soft but insistent.

“If I can get my foot up to that still, I should be able to make it all the way up,” Robert growled.

“Milord, she's safe enough for the night.”

Robert whirled around. “Do you have any idea what kind of neighborhood this is?”

MacDougal stiffened at his tone. “Begging your pardon, milord, but I grew up in a neighborhood like this.”

Robert's face immediately softened. “Damn. I'm sorry, MacDougal, I didn't mean—”

“I know you didna.” MacDougal grasped Robert's upper arm and gently began to lead him away. “Your lady needs to stew on this for an evening, milord. Leave her be for a touch. You can talk to her on the morrow.”

Robert gave the building one last scowl. “Do you really think she'll be all right for the night?”

“You heard the lock on that door. She's as safe as if she were tucked away in Mayfair with you. Probably safer.”

Robert gave his next scowl to MacDougal. “I'm coming after her tomorrow.”