a sensitive nature or imprisoning it was still something of a mystery.
“You should,” shot back Marco. “The stories are quite outrageous.”
“Everything about you is outrageous.” She met his taunting gaze with a level smile. “Or so you would have everyone believe.”
“Don’t let your imagination deceive you, bella. All women want men to be heroes, but I am exactly what I seem.”
“You have no idea what I want,” said Kate softly. How could he, when she herself wasn’t sure how to define the sharpening sense of longing that was cutting at her resolve?
“At present, I hope it is to avoid making a muck-up of this night.” Marco broke off eye contact. “Ready?”
“Lead the way.”
Rolling onto his belly, Marco began slithering along the narrow ledge.
As she followed, Kate squinted into the gloom. The slate-roofed house rose up from behind the spiky silhouette of an unpruned boxwood hedge. It was an unattractive structure, its unbalanced lines and heavy facade smudged in darkness, save for a single flicker of light in one of the lower windows. The wall bordered the rear garden. A row of tall juniper bushes abutted the mortised stone, and Marco dropped down lightly into the shelter of their shadows. The grounds had an air of neglect about them. Clumps of weeds sprouted among the border plantings and the narrow swath of lawn had not been cut in some time.
“The Foreign Office ought to pay its diplomats better,” murmured Kate.
“That, or Lord Tappan ought to curb whatever private appetites are eating away at his coffers.”
“You are one to talk.”
“I can afford my vices,” answered Marco grimly. “The same cannot be said of the baron.” He made a quick survey of the surroundings. “I saw only the front grounds when I was here before. Out there, he has managed to keep up appearances.”
“What else is he hiding?” mused Kate.
“We shall see—metaphorically speaking, that is.” He glanced down at the pooled hems of her skirts. “I don’t suppose it would do any good to ask you to stay here. If we have to move fast, I fear you will fall flat on your face.”
Twitching up the silk, Kate drew a knife from the small sheath strapped to her leg. With a few swift slices, she shortened her gown to midcalf length. “Satisfied?” she asked, shoving the scraps beneath the evergreen branches.
“I would have preferred another foot or two,” he answered dryly. “Do you always walk around armed to the teeth?”
“A lady never knows when she might have to defend herself.”
“Well, let us hope tonight is not one of those times. One dead body is enough to account for.”
Kate flinched, but thankfully he didn’t seem to notice.
“Do you mind if I take the blade for now?”
To her own surprise, Kate handed it over without argument. “Why would Tappan lie about having to leave for Vienna this morning? If he’s engaged in an illicit affair with Lady Duxbury, it would be far easier to conduct it at Cluyne Close.”
Marco didn’t answer.
Questions, questions. Kate felt a little light-headed, confusion suddenly swirling her senses, thick as an ocean fog. It didn’t help that her nose was just inches from his upturned collar and every ragged breath was filling her lungs with his thoroughly masculine musk. The heat rising from his whipcord muscles only intensified the effect. She felt him flex his shoulders, and an animal awareness thrummed through her. All pretenses were stripped away by the subtle move—the indolent rake hardened to a lithe, lean predator, his sleek strength coiled and ready to spring at the jugular.
Her throat constricted as she swallowed a tiny sound.
He turned slightly, the needled shadows giving a menacing cast to his expression. And yet she knew she had nothing to fear from him.
“Wait here for my signal.” With catlike quickness, Marco crossed the lawn in a low crouch. Creeping close to the leaded windows, he angled a peek over the sill.
Kate strained to see through the half-drawn draperies, but could make out only a vague blur of muddled shapes. From this perspective, the house looked even more forbidding. The weight of the gloom hung heavy in the air, and as the chill from the damp earth crept along her exposed ankles, she realized that she was glad not to be alone in the dark, deserted grounds.
A flash of steel cut off her mordant thoughts. Before Marco could wave the knife again, she raced across the grass and dropped to the ground beside him.