How to Steal a Thief's Heart - Bree Wolf Page 0,48

her chest in imitation of him. “Then why did you rob me? The money in that pouch was intended for the orphanage.” She swallowed, and he could see that she disliked discussing such matters with him. “I suppose you know that by now. Otherwise, why would you be here?” Her nose crinkled slightly. “Have you been following me again?”

Noting they were getting a bit off topic, Pierce surged to his feet, then moved to sit beside her.

Instantly, she scrambled to the far corner of her seat. “Do you have to sit there?” she snapped, her back all but pressed against the window.

Pierce grinned. “I must.”

“What do you want?”

His gaze lingered on her, studying the hard lines of her face, proof of the iron will that ruled her life. And yet, he’d seen her face soft and gentle when she’d whispered of the way she hid herself from society’s eye. “I need you to make me a promise.”

Suspicion darkened her features. “Why would I do that?”

“Don’t you even want to know what it is?”

She shrugged. “I suspect it is something I’m unwilling to do.”

Pierce chuckled. “What gives you that idea?”

“Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here asking,” she pointed out with arched brows. “Although I must admit, why you’re here in the first place has me puzzled. Perhaps some morbid fascination? The need to control everything and everyone?” Her brows rose again, daring him to answer.

Pierce could not deny that he loved her courage, the way she faced him, a masked intruder, without so much as a tremble. And yet, he also loved getting under her skin, seeing her affected by him, hearing her breath catch and seeing her cheeks flush.

Holding her gaze, he slid closer, his knee brushing against hers.

Instantly, she tensed, and he could see the pulse in her neck quickening. “Stay where you are,” she demanded, her hands rising to ward him off.

Pierce grinned. “The last time we shared a coach, you were much more accommodating,” he teased as he moved closer still until the tips of her fingers brushed against the fabric of his cloak.

She swallowed, her breath coming fast. “Don’t you dare!”

“Dare what?” Pierce asked innocently, feeling his pulse quicken when her gaze dropped to his lips. He chuckled. “It’s good to know where your thoughts are lingering.”

Her lips thinned, and her eyes returned to glare at him. “Aren’t yours?”

“Yes,” he admitted openly, watching her throat work as she swallowed. He held her gaze, then moved closer an inch. Then another.

Her hands now lay flat against his chest, her eyes wide as she looked at him. Still, there was no resistance, no pressure against him as he drew closer.

His hands reached for her then, moving under her cloak and finding her small waist, the feel of her familiar and, yet, temptingly new. A shuddering breath fluttered past her lips as her eyes darkened with something deeply alluring.

“Are you disappointed to see me here?” Pierce whispered against her lips as his hands on her waist tightened, pulling her closer.

Her chest rose and fell with a heavy breath. “I…” Her eyes remained on his, but only for a moment before they dropped to his mouth once again.

Pierce chuckled, then dipped his head and kissed her.

Chapter Eighteen

A Respectful Man

Oh, this was a bad idea! A very bad idea! And yet, it didn’t feel like a bad idea. In fact, it felt wonderful, utterly bewitching, and Caroline felt herself respond to his kiss with surprising enthusiasm.

Her hands slid from his chest to snake around his neck, toying with the curls at his nape. She pressed closer, and a low hum escaped her throat when he teased her lips apart, deepening their kiss.

Still, it had to be a bad idea…even if Caroline couldn’t quite say why at the moment.

After an awfully long day, she’d felt exhausted, close to collapsing into a heap of nerves. Her feet had barely managed to carry her the few steps to the coach.

And now this!

His hands sent heat shooting through her body, chasing away the lingering cold of the early year. His touch was gentle and, yet, demanding, and despite the fact that she did not know him—his name or his face—Caroline did not feel afraid. In fact, she felt safe in his arms.

A distant part of her wondered why he always sought her out. Why had he followed her this night as well? Why had he come? To urge her not to leave the house at night? Was he concerned for her? Why would he be? After