Page 55 of Love with a Notorious Rake

All the way into your heart.

Chapter 16

Aidan, here? His shirt was plastered to his finely chiseled torso, showing every taut muscle. Blinking away the rain, he brushed his wet hair from his face and gazed up at her. His expression was beseeching. And he was shivering.

She stuck her hand out, and the cold rain stung her skin. He would catch his death. What if he wasn’t recovered enough to fight off a chill?

“I’ll stand here all night. Let me in, please.” He didn’t whisper.

Cristyn placed a finger to her lips to indicate he should be quiet. She considered slamming the window shut and heading to bed, but she knew that he was stubborn enough to stand there all night. Besides, her nursing instincts would not allow him to succumb to a possible fever. Exasperated, she pointed downward, drawing his attention to the back door. Aidan nodded.

Thankfully, Mrs. Trubshaw was often asleep before half past nine; with any luck she would be deep in dreamland. Cristyn slipped into her wrapper and, as quietly as possible, descended the stairs. Turning the key, she opened the door, and Aidan slipped in, water dripping from every part of him.

“Up the stairs,” she whispered fiercely. Cristyn pulled off her wrapper and followed behind him, sopping up the trail of water left in his wake. She pointed to her room and he stepped inside.

His teeth were chattering. Locking her door, she turned to face him. Beads of raindrops clung to his long lashes. Her gaze followed an errant trail of water down his throat to the V of his sodden shirt. It drew attention once again to his sculpted chest and leanly muscled arms. Cristyn motioned to the chair before the small fireplace. “Take off your clothes.” She tore her blanket from her bed and tossed it to him. “Wrap yourself in this. You’re wearing smalls?”

Aidan nodded.

“Keep them on.” She gathered up the wet clothes and arranged them in front of the fire.

“I like it when you look after me. It’s as if you are concerned for my welfare.” Aidan gave her a sensual smile, and her traitorous body responded, her heart thumping madly.

“I am a nurse, after all. Why are you here?” she asked, struggling to keep her voice even.

With the wool blanket resting on his shoulders, he rubbed his hands in front of the crackling flames in the hearth. “As I said, we have to talk. Allow me to explain. You had better sit down for this.”

“Talk lower. Mrs. Trubshaw must not find you here.” Blowing out a huff of air, she sat on the corner of her bed, facing him. “Say your piece, then you must go.”

Aidan turned the chair to face her, then sat upon it. “My father is a Member of Parliament for the district of Kent. He is working with select members from the House of Lords on a new version of the Factory Act. I thought to do something meaningful—call it redemption, but I put myself forward to gather information my father can use to further his cause. I suggested a clandestine operation in a mill with a terrible reputation. It was decided that Morris Mill would serve.” He stared at her intently. “Do you grasp what I’m saying?”

Cristyn bristled. “I am perfectly capable of following a conversation.” Keep calm. “Redemption for what?” she murmured.

“Allow me to finish explaining this portion of my tale. As far as McRae is concerned, I’m his man. It’s why you witnessed me shaking Rokesmith. It was a performance, for the master standing above, in the window, in order to prove that I am like him. It’s why Tessie came to my room—I am paying her for information. Nothing else. I swear it.”

This sounded like a plot from a convoluted fiction novel. Yet it held kernels of truth. Relief poured through her. “Not for sex?”

“No. My God, Cristyn. You truly believe I would take advantage of a desperate young woman? Beat on a defenseless child?”

“What was I to think? The performance in the courtyard was quite convincing. And Tessie told me that she earned extra coin by prostituting herself. Add that to your cold words at Mrs. Trubshaw’s and it became all the more compelling.” Actually, Tessie hadn’t used that exact phrasing, Cristyn had merely assumed. Misjudgments all around. “Then I see Tessie knock at your door? What conclusion was I to draw?” Her voice rose to a shrill, and she shook her head. “Forgive me,” she whispered. “I find this difficult to take in.”

“Say you believe me. I am not a monster. At least, not anymore.”

Cristyn stared into his sad but beautiful blue eyes. There were no lies in his earnest expression, no shield for once. “I believe you.” A small part of her had believed he was better than what she’d observed, and it was a relief to find she had not been completely wrong.

“I don’t know what I would have done if you rejected my explanation.” He met her gaze. “I’m trying to convince Rokesmith to trust me. There is much he is hiding. I have been taking food to him and the children.”

Cristyn chuckled. “Paris and I have been bringing food during our exams.”

“Rokesmith is a sly devil, playing both ends at once. Good for him. The accent he puts on is entirely false. The boy is playing a role the same as I. My true name is Aidan Wollstonecraft. Black is my mother’s maiden name; my brother and I use it on occasion.”

“Wollstonecraft? Like the author?”

He nodded. “A distant cousin removed, I’m not sure how many times.”

“You have a brother? You’ve never said.”

“A twin, though not identical. There is much I haven’t said.”