Chapter Ten
During the next few days, Allison started the process of looking for a home. She spoke with her solicitor and banker, then found an agent to show her properties that met her requirements. Every man she spoke to expressed his dismay that she was undertaking such an endeavor. They all advised her to simply marry if she wanted to leave her brother’s household.
Her anger at this advice grew each time it was given. Why was it so unfathomable that she might want something of her own? That given her financial independence, she might want to manage her life and not put it all in the hands of some man who would undoubtedly believe that he knew best and would forbid her from funding such endeavors as Mercy House?
But even though her days kept her busy, her nights were full of fantasies about Quinn. She had not forgotten her plan to take him as her lover, and while she’d been setting her other plans in motion, she’d been working on that one as well.
She’d sent Joseph on a mission to discover where the inspector lived, and now, three days after their experience in the warehouse, she stood in front of his modest rowhouse at ten o’clock in the evening. She’d hired a hack to get there and wore a heavy, hooded cloak that she fancied hid most of her from view and had kept her from freezing to death on the way over. A light burned in one of the downstairs windows, and she let out a relieved breath. She hadn’t been at all certain he’d be home, though she’d planned to go to his office next if she couldn’t find him here.
One way or another, she was determined to present her plan to him. If he refused her... Well, then, at least she would have tried.
Taking a deep breath, she strode up his front steps and knocked softly.
Only a few moments passed before he flung the door open. He stood in his shirtsleeves, looking adorably rumpled and sleepy. His gaze dropped to her face, and his eyes narrowed. Glancing up and down the street, he suddenly jerked her inside and slammed the door shut behind them.
“Allison,” he muttered, his voice filled with shock and dismay. “What are you doing here? What’s wrong? Where is your escort? How the hell did you even know where I lived?”
She blinked, overwhelmed by his barrage of questions. “I wanted to see you,” she said at last.
He stumbled back, staring at her as though she’d said she was there to murder him. “You can’t be here, Princess. Not like this. Not at this time of night. If anyone found out—”
“No one will know,” she hurried to assure him. “I slipped out after everyone had gone to bed. I took a hack. I plan to be back before morning.”
“But... why?” he asked softly, looking as though he didn’t really want to know the answer. “What was it that couldn’t wait until morning?”
She bit her lip. His reaction to her being there was not at all what she’d hoped. She’d imagined that he’d immediately draw her into his arms and kiss her passionately, tell her he’d been dreaming that she’d come. “Can we sit down and talk about it?”
Looking very reluctant, he led her to his small parlor, which contained one comfortable-looking, much-used chair and a sofa that looked as though it had hardly been sat in at all. His house was cozy but so small! She didn’t think he had even a single servant. She sat down on the sofa, and he sat woodenly beside her.
Pushing the cowl of her hood away from her face, she met his questioning gaze head-on. “I wanted to see you, Quinn. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the warehouse... about our kiss.”
“Bloody hell...” He sank back against the sofa, squeezing his eyes tightly shut as though that could make her disappear.
She swallowed dryly. “Aren’t you glad to see me?” she asked in a small voice.
“Princess...” He opened his eyes and let his hungry gaze sweep her from head to toe. “You know I’m always happy to see you, but this... us...” He took a deep breath. “We can’t do this.”
“Why not?” she asked plaintively. “If we both want it, why can’t we do it?”
He laughed harshly. “Because you’re the daughter of a bloody earl, and I’m just an Irish police inspector. Do you know what would happen to you if anyone found out?” He raked a hand through his hair. “I can’t believe we are having this conversation.”
Deciding to change tactics, knowing she’d gone about this the entirely wrong way, she reached across the distance that separated them and took his hand. “Do you remember when we were crossing the Channel? When I sought comfort in your arms? I’ve never felt so safe.”
At first, she thought he’d pull his hand away, but then he tightened his fist around hers, his features softening. “Of course, I remember. I was completely out of my element, and you were so young, but I wanted to make things better for you. I knew you were scared and sad.”
Cautiously, she leaned her head against his shoulder so that they were pressed against each other from head to toe. His warmth seeped into her, chasing away the chill she’d gotten from being out in the October night air. “You were so good to me, so kind, despite our rocky beginning. You were honest with me about what Roger had done, who he really was, and then you held me while I cried. I never stopped thinking about you. And in all the years since, I’ve always been thrilled every time we’ve crossed paths.”
“As have I,” he admitted, his voice rough. “It took all the willpower I had not to invent excuses to come by Mercy House whenever I knew you were there.”
His soft admission thrilled her and gave her the strength to go on. “What we experienced together at the warehouse... It awakened something in me I never knew existed. I don’t really know why I’m here. I don’t know what I want. I just know that I want to experience that again. I... want you.”
He made a rough sound in the back of his throat and suddenly lifted her into his lap, staring down at her with eyes the color of emeralds, his cheeks burning with heat. “Do you think I don’t want you? I’ve thought of nothing else since that day. But darling... princess... you’re a virgin. I can’t take your innocence. You need to save that for the man you marry.”
“I don’t want to get married!” She fought her exasperation, knowing it wasn’t his fault. No man could understand what she wanted for her life. But perhaps she could explain it. Perhaps he might understand better than anyone of her class ever could. “I don’t want to go to endless balls and parties for the rest of my life. I don’t want a man to control my money, my very life. I want to be free. I want to live my life on my own terms, and if that means taking a lover, why shouldn’t I?”
He just shook his head, a look of confusion and resignation in his eyes. “I can’t fight you on this. Not when I want it so much myself.”
Cupping her face in his hands, he leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers.