To Catch an Earl - Kate Bateman Page 0,2

turned her bones to jelly. Emmy almost swooned with pleasure. The scent of him filled her nose, the taste of brandy on his tongue made her insides molten.

Minutes, or possibly hours, later, he pulled back, panting. “Your name,” he demanded roughly.

“No.” She hadn’t lost her wits entirely.

He expelled a huff of amused frustration. “If I had more time, I would discover exactly who you are.” He brushed the edge of her jawline with his thumb, then stroked it over her lips in a shiver-inducing caress. “But I’m leaving for Portugal next week.” His arms tightened around her, and his mouth thinned in displeasure. “God, I wish I didn’t have to go. I wish we’d met sooner. I—”

Emmy placed her fingers over his lips to stop the flow of words that mirrored her own feelings so precisely. She pressed her own lips together to stop herself from blurting out, Don’t go, then. Stay here. With me.

Impossible. They were from different worlds, their lives on opposite trajectories. This was the only time they would ever intersect.

The next kiss was tinged with a bittersweet desperation, a mutual acknowledgment that this one, perfect moment was finite. Fragile. Unrepeatable.

“God, you taste so sweet,” he groaned against her lips. “Smell so sweet. I want to breathe you in and keep you in my lungs forever. Does that sound mad?”

“Not at all.”

It was harder than she’d ever imagined to pull out of his arms. Cool air replaced the warmth where his body had been. Tears stung her eyes beneath her mask as she took another step away from him.

“Leaving me, princess?” he murmured.

“I must.”

“Will you turn into a pumpkin at midnight?”

She managed a watery smile at his weak attempt at a joke. “No. But I have to go.”

A good thief always knew when to leave the scene of a crime. Kissing Alex Harland had been better than she’d ever imagined, but it might also prove the biggest mistake of her life. Because now she knew precisely what she was missing.

She started back toward the garden gate. He picked up his mask, which he’d dropped on the grass, and retied it. When they reached the steps of the terrace, he caught her hand and tugged her around to face him. He opened his mouth to speak, but she forestalled him.

“Don’t say goodbye.”

He inclined his head. “All right. Let’s simply say good night, then. Until we meet again.”

He kissed her hand, his lips warm on her skin, and her stomach clenched. She already missed him. How was that even possible? She pulled away and started up the steps.

“I’ll find you,” he vowed at her retreating back. “When I return.”

Emmy bit back a bittersweet smile. He would only find her if she wanted to be found. And she had far too many secrets for that.

“No,” she whispered, too softly for him to hear. “You won’t.”

Chapter 1.

London, 1816.

“That blasted Nightjar has done it again!”

Alexander Harland, Earl of Melton, glanced up from his morning paper. Sir Nathaniel Conant, Chief Magistrate of Bow Street, dropped a sheaf of papers onto the table beside him and lowered himself into a vacant armchair with an irritated exhalation. “That devil—whoever he is—is a menace to society.”

Alex concealed a groan of impatience. He’d barely finished breakfast. At this hour, the Tricorn Club’s salon was usually empty. Benedict, having recently married, had moved out last month; “jumped ship,” as Seb had wryly phrased it. And Seb himself, the third pillar of their unholy triumvirate, was doubtless still sleeping off last night’s boisterous trip to the Theatre Royal. Alex had banked on a good hour of uninterrupted reading before being bothered by anyone.

Clearly, it was not to be. Mickey, the Tricorn’s mountainous doorman, had been given strict instructions to admit Sir Nathaniel whenever he so desired. Alex twisted his head to glance at the clock on the mantelpiece. Events must be concerning to have roused the elderly peer at the ungodly hour of nine o’clock.

He carefully folded the newspaper and placed it on the table next to him. “Another jewel has been stolen?”

Conant’s jowls wobbled as he shook his head. “The sneaky beggar’s hit close to home this time, Harland. Pinched a bloody great diamond from Rundell, Bridge and Rundell.”

“The Royal jewelers?” Alex raised his eyebrows as his mouth twitched in reluctant admiration. “You have to give the man credit; he never takes the easy route, does he? I’d have thought their security was tight as a drum.”

“It is. But the Nightjar still managed to breech it. And that’s