His Curious Imp Read online

  “You had money saved up, that was good.”

  “My mother allowed it. She used to give me money to go buy milk and the like, and she’d tell me to keep the change. She said it would come in handy in the future. Still, having that small of an amount made it hard until I found my job.” She took another drink and pushed away her half-eaten food. “That’s why I need this so much. If I come to the editor with a good story I’m sure he will keep me on.”

  She was once again thankful that he didn’t offer her fake sympathy.

  “Did you enjoy the sex?” he asked.

  She laughed. “Not really. It was painful, and it was rather unimaginative. The things I’ve read about make it seem much more interesting.”

  “It is,” he said. “I will show you that. But first, shall we go and break the law?”

  “With pleasure, Lord McIntyre,” Gabby said. “I think this adventure will be rather fun.”

  “We’ll make that decision after it’s over,” Fergus said. “Now, let us go before I change my mind.”

  “Don’t be a stick in the mud,” she said as she pushed back from the table. “Or I’ll leave you here and go by myself.”

  “Not on your life,” he said. “If things turn out right I might even ask for my name to be added to the story as a contributor.”

  She glared at him, and then she laughed when she saw the glint of humor in his eyes.

  “You’re a cad,” she said.

  “So you say,” he replied. “But I assure you the best of me is yet to come.”

  Chapter 4

  They had the driver park the carriage near the park, and walked toward the townhouse. There was a bench one door down, and they sat down on it, keeping close enough to speak but far enough apart that people wouldn’t question why two men were sitting on a bench together.

  Gabby felt rather strange sitting here in the dark in men’s clothing. She wanted to take off the hat Fergus had loaned her and let her hair down. More than that she wanted to take advantage of the dark and have him kiss her, repeatedly. She hated the fact that she was so attracted to him; it went against everything she’d told herself she would never do. She had to take her mind off the man sitting next to her, and fast.

  “What do you think they are doing?” Gabby stared at the building they’d visited that afternoon. There was no light flowing through the curtains, and no one had come or gone in the time they’d been sitting there, which she guessed to be around twenty minutes or so.

  “Working to make money,” he said. “Not legally, which makes it a sure bet they want what most criminals want, someone else’s money.”

  “But the Egyptian statues,” she said, “I know the Egyptian culture is popular amongst society these days, but why would they have such a stockpile? I wonder if they are planning on selling them. I wonder if they’re real.”

  “We’ll find out tomorrow,” he said. He sounded so bored and she said as much.

  “Not bored, on guard,” he said. “There was a great deal of activity here this afternoon. Why would they not be here tonight?”

  “Perhaps they have a place, or places, near the theaters, or near Mayfair, where you live,” she said. “Rich people hang out around there. They might be outside well attended parties for their little pickpockets to ply their trade.”

  “You’re right, they might be,” he said. “If no one goes in or out in the next ten minutes I think we should make our move.”

  “That’s an odd term,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve ever hear it before. Is it a Scottish thing?”

  “It’s a Fergus thing,” he said. “I’m planning on making moves on you. Speaking of which, I believe you should come to my house with me after we’re done here. You can stay the night, not in my bedroom, but you can stay with me and we can go to the museum first thing in the morning, after breakfast, of course.”

  “I think your ears are clogged,” she said. “Remember, no mistress. Besides, you’re inviting him for tea, remember?”

  “How am I supposed to seduce you if we’re always doing what you want? I need some time to, as you said about the young thieves, ply my trade.”

  Gabby couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. “Do you have a specific set of moves you make in your seduction trade?”

  “Depends upon the woman,” he said.

  In the moonlight she could see the glint in his eyes.

  “Maybe you should ply that trade somewhere else.” A sound from across the street caught her attention. She turned toward the house they should have been watching. He was distracting her with the talk of seduction and she didn’t need that.

  The door to the house opened and a woman stepped out.

  “Interesting” he whispered.

  Gabby didn’t answer. Instead she watched as the woman jiggled the door handle, and then turned and walked away from where they sat.

  “She locked it,” Gabby said.

  “Well, we can break a window,” he said.

  “Too obvious,” she replied. She turned to him. “You have brothers. Don’t you know how to pick a lock?”

  “Not right off hand,” he said. “But I’m sure we can hire someone who does.”

  “This late in the evening?” she asked.

  “No, we’ll have to wait until tomorrow,” he said. “But now that we know the place is empty at this time we can hire someone to do it tomorrow evening. In the meantime, we can go back to my place and talk.”

  “Not tonight,” she said. “We can have breakfast in the morning, but only after I sleep at my place and you at yours.”

  “You wound me,” he said.

  “My earlier experience at your house showed that you have keys, and frankly, I don’t trust you. Not yet, anyway. I’ll come by in the morning.”

  “Don’t you have to go to work?”

  Now why had he remembered that and she hadn’t? “You’re right,” she said. “And I can’t afford to miss it. I will be done by noon. My hours have been minimized thanks to McNutt. I’ll come to your house after.”

  Fergus nodded, but he didn’t answer. She wondered what he was thinking, and it made her a little nervous.

  “I’ll see you back to your rooms,” he said.

  “Thank you.” He was a gentleman, she decided as he offered her his arm. They walked to the carriage and when they were inside she waited for him to kiss her, but he didn’t.

  When they arrived at her rooms he escorted her to her door then he opened it. He walked inside and looked around.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Checking to make sure no one is lying in wait,” he said. Then he took her hand and lifted it to his lips. “Until tomorrow.”

  He left without waiting for an answer. Gabby shut the door and turned the key. Fergus McIntyre was making her head spin.

  She never knew what he was going to do next.

  * * *

  “I need this by two so get busy.” McNutt slapped his notes on Gabby’s desk. She looked at the clock on the wall. The time read eleven forty-seven.

  “Sorry, McNutt, but according to our boss I only work until noon now.” She picked up the papers and held them out. “You’ll have to do it yourself.”

  “Then work over. I don’t do trivial things like type writing notes.”

  “Sorry once again, McNutt, but I have a lunch appointment. Looks like your plan to boot me out will cause you problems now, hm?”

  “You had better not leave, Gabby. I want this done. If it’s not done, then today will truly be your last day at The Sentinel.”

  Gabby stood and put the cover on her typewriting machine. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Fergus step into the door, a smile on his face and a beautiful red rose in his hand.

  A blush crossed her face. Last night she’d expected Fergus to at least kiss her, but he hadn’t. There was no plan for them to meet at the newspaper office by noon, yet here he was, ready to take her into his world.

  Now she watched him walk toward he
r desk and her heart skipped a beat. She was so tired of McNutt and his threats. So tired of his bullying.

  “I will tell you what, McNutt. Tell Phillips that I resign my position. I’ve had enough of you. Type your own damn notes. And screw up your own damn stories. I could make better wages and be happier working at a tea house.”

  Gabby knew that wasn’t true. She loved working at the newspaper, loved the excitement of the newsroom and the smell of the ink. But lately every morning when she woke up and thought about facing McNutt’s sneers her good mood would turn to bad.

  And now, seeing Fergus, she knew she was ready to make a change, no matter how much it cost her financially.

  “You little bitch,” McNutt’s voice carried through the newsroom. “I know you can’t make it without this job. Do you think your fancy new lord will buy you dresses and find you a new home once he’s fucked you? Everyone knows you’re a whore. All he wants is a little piece and then you’ll be right back where you started from. With nothing. You’ll be crawling back here once he’s tired of you, which shouldn’t take too long.”

  Gabby let out a gasp as Fergus grabbed McNutt by the shoulder and slammed his fist into the man’s face. Blood splattered Gabby’s desk and she took a step backward.

  A crowd gathered as Fergus slammed his fist into McNutt’s face over and over until Gabby screamed at him to stop, and then Fergus pushed McNutt backward onto the floor.

  “If you were a gentleman I would demand satisfaction from you in the old fashioned way,” Fergus said. His voice shook with anger, and Gabby wondered if he was going to attack McNutt again. “You will apologize to Miss Saunders or I will beat you to within an inch of your life. And if I’m not satisfied with that I will beat you until there is no breath left in your miserable little body.”

  McNutt rose to his feet quickly and backed away. Blood poured down his face and he was sputtering in anger. “I will file charges. You cannot do this to me just because you’re a lord. You shall be hearing from my solicitor.”

  Fergus laughed and several people in the newsroom joined him. McNutt shot an angry look at his co-workers.

  “Send him to my address.” Fergus threw a card at McNutt’s feet. “Since you’re such a man that you would berate a lady I would have no doubt that you would have a solicitor fight your battles for you. I look forward to hearing from him.”

  McNutt picked up the card and then pushed his way through the onlookers, blood staining his clothes.

  “Good show.” The words came from the crowd, and Gabby wasn’t exactly sure who said them.

  Fergus turned to Gabby and smiled.

  “Do you have anything you need to pack?”

  She shook her head and he offered her his hand. She took it without saying a word and he pulled her into his arms.

  “Are you all right?” He kissed her forehead and she sighed.

  “I am. Thank you, Fergus. But I would have liked to have hit him myself.”

  Fergus laughed. “I’m sure that you would have and it would have made a fine show.”

  As they walked from the room, Gabby couldn’t help but notice that several of her former coworkers were laughing. She was rather happy, too. But something told her they hadn’t heard the last of McNutt.

  * * *

  “Fergus, I can’t see a thing.” Gabby raised her hands up to take hold of the satiny piece of material that was covering her eyes.

  “That’s the point of a blindfold, Gabriella.” He took her hands and pulled her forward. “Just a few more steps and we’ll be there. Trust me, Gabby.”

  “Trust you? I thought you said we were having tea with your friend today.”

  “We are,” he replied. “At four this afternoon.”

  Gabby could hear people around her so she knew they were in a public place. She sniffed and the scent of flowers reached her nose. Sounds of music reached her ears, music like you would hear on a carousel.

  “Are we in the park?”

  “We are.”

  Gabby shivered when he ordered her to stand still. He moved behind her and pulled her into his chest.

  “What’s the old saying, sweet Gabby? A jug of wine, a loaf of bread and thou?”

  He pulled the blindfold from her eyes and she gasped softly. They were in a copse of trees. A blanket, loaded with food, was spread out before them. Gabby spied cheese, chicken, bread, grapes and other fruit, wine, plates and silverware.

  She looked around to try and decide which park they were in. She went to the opening in the trees and looked out.

  “Hyde Park,” she whispered.

  Fergus came to her and took her hand. He led her back to the blanket and took her hands. He helped her to sit and then sat down next to her.

  “Oh, Fergus. This is beautiful. I’ve never done anything like this.”

  “Then it’s high time. Hungry, little one? You must be after your ordeal with McNutt.”

  Fergus fed Gabby a piece of cheese and she moaned softly.

  “The man is a pig but I do think you broke his nose,” she giggled. “Although I hate to see anyone in pain he deserves it.”

  “If I’d done my job properly he wouldn’t have been able to walk away from the building.”

  He handed her a glass of wine. She took a sip and picked up a piece of chicken.

  “You know what bothers me the most, Fergus? He’s not a very good writer but he keeps the job because he’s a man. I would always work on his notes to improve his grammar and spelling. It’s just not fair.”

  He didn’t say anything but she knew from the look he gave her that he understood.

  “I won’t say I’m sorry because I don’t want you to think I’m being condescending,” he said. “And I can’t say I know how you feel because I’m not a woman.”

  She was liking him more and more as time went by. Actually, she was pretty sure she fell in love with him the moment his fist connected with McNutt’s face.

  “Perhaps if you wrote from your home,” Fergus said. “You can hunt up stories and turn them in to newspapers. Tell the editors you are shy and don’t like being in public places. Write under a pseudonym.”

  Gabby sat down her glass and stared at Fergus.

  “That’s a brilliant idea. I will get to the bottom of the pickpockets, and find out what all those relics are for, and turn the story in to The Times.”

  “You’re a good enough writer that The Times would take your offering?” he asked.

  Gabby threw a grape at him. He was lying on his side, his body propped up on an elbow.

  “I am an excellent writer,” she said.

  “Prove it,” he said right before he picked up the grape and popped it in his mouth.

  She tossed another grape at him. “You’ll see when we get to the bottom of this and I write up the story.”

  “Do I have to wait that long?”

  This time she tossed a piece of cheese at him. He picked it up and ate it.

  “Figuring it out may take a while,” she said. “Do you have a theory?”

  “Yes.”

  “So quickly?”

  “Yes.”

  “From the little bit that we know?”

  “Yes.”

  “Fergus!” She threw another piece of cheese at him. “Stop being obtuse.”

  “I’m not being obtuse, Gabby; you’re the one asking yes or no questions. I’m answering them. If you expect someone to open up to you then you need to ask them probing questions, something more than what requires a yes or no.”

  He sat up to take a drink of his wine before he sprawled back down on the blanket. “Do you only want to write about criminals?”

  “It’s what makes the front page,” she said.

  “Yes, but you told me you read erotica.” He licked his lips, and she felt her nipples tighten.

  “What does that have to do with my writing?”

  He winked. “Have you ever thought about writing naughty stories?” He tossed a grape at her. “I can help you with the research.
”

  Gabby giggled. “Those pamphlets are all over the place, subject wise.”

  “That just means we’ll have to have several, shall we say, sessions for you to inquire about the more, intense activities.”

  It would be best for her not to respond, but she couldn’t help it. Her heart was beating faster and her quim was growing very damp.

  Don’t rise to the bait she told herself, right before she said, “What activity do you have in mind?”

  “Well, how about spanking? It can be used for many things, but I find it highly erotic. Or we could talk about bondage, or making a woman have an orgasm in public. That one is one of my favorites.”

  “The last one, or all of them?” she asked. “If you’ve done all of these things, then you have quite a repertoire.”

  “Something I’m willing to prove, if you’ll allow it,” he said. “Until then we’ll stay with the fictional side of things. Shall we start with spanking?”

  “No, thank you,” she said. “I don’t find the idea of being hit erotic.”

  “Surely the books you’ve read have spanking scenes.”

  “They do,” she said. “But they don’t titillate me.”

  “What does?” he asked.

  “Not anything I’m prepared to share right now,” she said.

  He ate a few grapes and then took a drink of wine. “Interview me about erotic spankings.”

  Gabby’s hand, holding a piece of bread, paused halfway to her mouth. “Excuse me?”

  “Practice your interview skills,” he said. “Interview me about erotic spankings, and then write a fictional tale about it. It could be published, you know.

  “There is little chance of that happening,” she said. “Most publishers don’t want female writers in their house. It’s why I type up notes for men, remember?”

  “G. Saunders,” he said. “Or how about G. McIntyre?”