A Loving Scoundrel Read Online Free Page A

the matter.
    “So? Then kill ’im or leave ’im, but ye ain’t taking ’im to the watchmen. Ain’t ’aving no law come sticking their noses round ’ere.”
    Jeremy gave it one last try. “We have no intention of visiting the authorities over this matter, my good fellow. And this baggage will be returned by morning, none the worse for wear.”
    The big man began lumbering his way around the bar with the intention of blocking their exit. “We’ve rules round ’ere, gov’nor. Wot’s ’ere stays ’ere, if ye catch my meaning.”
    “Oh, I’m very good at catching. And we’ve rules where I come from as well. Sometimes, they don’t need explaining—if you catch my meaning.”
    Jeremy didn’t think any head bashing would work on a head that big, so he simply lifted one of his pistols and shoved it in the chap’s face. That worked very well. The man spread his arms wide and started backing off.
    “Smart fellow,” Jeremy continued. “Now you can have your thief back—”
    “ ’E ain’t mine,” the burly bartender thought it prudent to mention.
    “Whatever,” Jeremy replied on his way out the door. “He’ll be returned just as soon as we’ve concluded our business with him.”
    There was no other attempt to stop them from leaving the area. And the only other person they came across at that late hour of the night was an old drunken woman who still had enough of her wits to cross to the other side of the street to get out of their way when she saw them.
    But Percy was definitely out of breath after traversing four blocks with the bound thief over his shoulder. They hadn’t left the coach near the tavern for obvious reasons, mainly being that it probably wouldn’t have been there when they were ready to leave. Four blocks away in a safer, well-lit area had seemed a reasonable spot, but was a bit far to tote their thief. So it wasn’t surprising that Percy simply dumped his package on the floor of the coach and none too gently, too worn-out to do more’n that.
    Climbing in behind Percy, Jeremy saw there was no help for it, he was going to have to touch the wench again after all, to get her up on the seat. He’d been trying to avoid temptation by letting Percy carry her. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t have carried her and seen to any interference along the way. But he’d given the chore to Percy because he’d already discovered what touching her did to him. Looking was one thing. It had no effect on a man who overindulged in women. Touching, however, was much too intimate, and Jeremy reacted to intimacy on a purely prurient level.
    And the simple fact was, he didn’t want to want this wench. She was beautiful, yes, but she was a thief, probably raised in the gutter or worse. Her personal habits were more than likely so far below his standards that they weren’t worth contemplating.
    There was no help for it. Percy, poor fellow, was no doubt as exhausted as he presently looked. But before Jeremy actually put his hands on the girl, he realized that enough time had passed while contemplating his dilemma that the coach was on its way, the outskirts of the city were in sight, and it would be a simple matter to keep their prize from escaping now. So he could simply untie her and she could make herself comfortable on the seat.
    He did that now, first her feet—damned dainty they were. Then her hands. He didn’t touch the gag. She was able to remove it now herself and she did that most quickly. Quick, too, was the punch she threw at him as she came up off the floor.
    It was the one thing he hadn’t expected, though he should have, since she’d tried to punch him earlier. Ranting and raving could be expected, yes, more vulgar swearing, certainly, but for her to do what a man might do…
    She missed, of course. Jeremy was no slouch in his reactions. And although he did get his jaw out of the way, which she’d aimed for, her fist still slid along his cheek and clipped his ear, which was now