Бренда Джойс – Deadly Kisses (страница 9)

Suddenly the other passenger door opened and Hart climbed into the backseat beside her, taking her hand. “Are you cold? Why are you waiting here, when you could be inside?”

Francesca met his dark gaze and tried to smile at him. “It can be so noisy in the lobby. I have a head ache,” she said truthfully.

His smile faded as the carriage rumbled away from the curb. He put his arm around her. “It has been a terrible evening,” he said quietly. “I wish you hadn’t been here tonight, Francesca.”

She looked up at his face, at the strong and attractive features she had come to love, acutely aware of his powerful embrace. “I’m glad I was here,” she said passionately. “You are not going through this alone!”

“Francesca, I know you mean well. You always mean well,” he said roughly, and he smiled. “But this affair is already a sordid one. I have never asked you before to cease an investigation, but I am asking you now.”

She pulled away from him, disbelieving. “Hart, don’t ask me to drop this.”

“You are upset with me,” he remarked, his eyes moving over her face.

“I want to help,” Francesca said firmly. “I can help. Daisy was murdered and we both know I can find her killer. Just as we both know that right now, the police think you might be involved.”

His expression hardened and he glanced away.

She moved into his arms, turning his face toward her. Hart could be terribly insecure and vulnerable at times, as if still that small, unloved, unwanted boy. “I am not upset with you. You did not murder Daisy, Hart,” Francesca said. “We simply need to bring her killer to justice.”

He caught her hand, bringing it to his chest. Against her skin, Francesca felt the stiff material of his shirt, and she realized he had pressed her hand against Daisy’s dried blood. “Why are you calling me Hart? You only call me Hart when distressed.” His gaze was searching in the flickering lights of the carriage.

She wet her lips. “I am distressed. You are, as well. How can we not be distressed after what has happened?”

He studied her and said, “And that is why I don’t want you on this case. It will only get worse.”

She trembled. “And how will it get worse?”

He was incredulous. “I care enough about you not to want you reminded every hour of every day that I was in Daisy’s bed a few months ago!”

Her mind became blurred. A little voice inside of her head said, “Don’t.” She ignored it. “Why did you call on Daisy tonight?”

His grip on her hand tightened as their gazes locked. “There was a matter she wished to discuss.”

Francesca continued to tremble and she knew Hart could feel it. She recalled Newman’s expression of pity, and Bragg’s. Both men thought Hart had gone to see Daisy to take her to bed. “What matter?”

He rubbed his face and Francesca realized how tired he was. “Can we let this go, at least for tonight?”

She knew he had not gone to Daisy for carnal reasons. While it was her worst fear that one day he would stray, they had only recently become engaged and the passion they shared remained vast. “What was so important and so urgent that you had to see Daisy tonight—the night of her murder?” She could not help herself. “Calder, we agreed to always be honest with each other. We both know that you didn’t go to Daisy’s to discuss financial matters.”

“We had a private matter to discuss.” He was terse and there was a warning in his tone.

Francesca became alarmed. “A matter you wish to keep private from me?”

“Yes.” He turned away, resolute, his expression hard and tense. “Please. Just leave it for now.”

She could not believe he would not tell her what he and Daisy had intended to discuss. But it was not his nature to ask for anything, and he was asking her now to let the subject alone. She didn’t know if she could. Her mind was spinning. She simply could not imagine what had brought him to Daisy’s in the middle of the night. “Your motive in calling on her is crucial to your defense.”

He became rigid. “So now I am accused of her murder?”

“Hart, I am not accusing you of anything! I know you are innocent. But the police will want to know.”

He was angry. “No, you want to know! You want to pry! Damn it! I just asked you to drop it! But when you get an idea, a clue, a lead, you might as well be a terrier with some damned bone. Usually your tenacity is endearing—it is not endearing now. Please, leave it, Francesca.”

She recoiled. And against her will, an image arose of him with Daisy in an intimate embrace.

As always, he knew. He tilted up her chin, forcing her gaze back to his. His eyes were wide. “You cannot think I went there to sleep with her?”

Francesca felt her cheeks heating. She really did not doubt Hart, but she did doubt Daisy. Had the other woman somehow lured him to her home to seduce him, in the hopes of rekindling their affair?

And because she hesitated, he grew incredulous. “Don’t tell me you have doubts about my loyalty,” he began in warning.

She could not breathe. She shook her head. “I don’t. Not really. It’s just—” she managed to say.

“Not really!” he exclaimed, cutting her off. “It’s just what?” he demanded.

Francesca saw from his shocked and angry expression that she had been wrong to even begin to doubt him. “You know I am insecure at times like these,” she said. “I did not trust Daisy—and neither did you! If only I were half as beautiful as she was.”

He leaned close, exploding. “I asked you to marry me because I had no wish to continue my philandering ways! I asked you to marry me because I was sick to death of all of those desperate women, and more important, of myself! I asked you to marry me because I wish to commit myself to you, Francesca. I knew, shortly after meeting you, that you were the one woman I wished to share the rest of my entire life with. I told you, in a true confession of my feelings, that I could no longer enjoy being with those faceless women, whose names I could never even recall! I asked you to marry me because you are the only genuine friend I have ever had, and because I have come to care deeply for you—because you have changed my life! Now, you believe I was sleeping with Daisy? I have never been faithful before, Francesca, but I have been faithful to you! And you are ten times more beautiful than Daisy!”

He was so angry. Francesca huddled against the velvet seat, shocked by his passionate outburst—and thrilled, too. “Calder, I was merely being honest. I don’t really believe you went to Daisy to sleep with her, of course I don’t. But Daisy always worried me. She was so beautiful. I am such a bluestocking, and I am so different from women like her. I admit it—when it comes to such women, I am a jealous, witless fool!”

He swept her into his arms. “Yes, you are jealous, witless and foolish at times like these,” he muttered, and he covered her mouth with his. He moved so quickly that Francesca was stunned, and then his tongue thrust hard and deep. Before she could react, the kiss softened, becoming thorough, and more thorough still. Francesca forgot the conversation, holding on to his hard, powerful body, her blood surging with heat. When he finally pulled away, she was dazed and throbbing with a terrible need and urgency. His sexual tension emanated from him in waves, but he gently brushed some strands of blond hair from her cheek. “You are as different from Daisy and her kind as can be—and I am so grateful for it! You tempt me, Francesca, as no one else ever has,” he whispered roughly.

It was always this way, she thought, recovering some of her sensibilities. When she became terribly insecure, he would make love to her and she would realize she had been a fool. When she was in his arms, all doubt died. She smiled at him and clasped his cheek briefly.

He smiled back and, his eyes closing, he kissed her hand.

The electricity that existed between them sparked. She covered his hand, pulling it against her face. Her heart pumped, each beat solid and pregnant with desire, in the hollow of her chest. She had missed him terribly while he was out of town and it would be a few more minutes before they reached her home.

He sensed the direction of her thoughts and looked directly at her. His gaze was brilliant as it met hers. Very softly, he said, “This is a dangerous night. I don’t feel in control, Francesca. I am not certain this is a good idea.”

She slipped her hand under his shirt, against the warm skin of his hard chest, but his shirt remained stiff with dried blood. She looked at it; so did he.

Daisy was dead and Hart was in trouble, she some how thought.

He kissed her cheek lightly and took her hand. Francesca fought the raging of her body until it softened. “I am sorry,” she said when she could speak. “I am sorry for being so foolish and for having even the tiniest doubt. But I am afraid I will always be jealous when it comes to other women.”

“You don’t ever have to be jealous of another woman, Francesca,” he said so seriously that her insides melted.

“I will try to prevent such a lapse in the future, I swear it, Calder.” She actually managed to smile at him.

He glanced at her. “Maybe I should be more understanding,” he said, surprising her. “Recently Daisy did her best to interfere in our relationship. Maybe your response to her was reasonable. But, Francesca, I have to remind you of one basic fact. Daisy had the airs of a well-bred lady, and I am rather certain she came from a genteel background, but she sold her body, Francesca. I paid for her attentions—they were never freely given.” He held her gaze. “Darling, she was a whore.”