From RomanceJunkies.com
Spanish Eyes
By Marie
Aug 25, 2007, 20:48
Her heart beat faster, loud enough to wake the dead. Pushing herself against the wall, she waited to see what the rat’s next move would be. Her mission tonight was not about the threatening animal in front of her, but a different kind of rat. A handsome, Spanish rat. The one in the soirée across the street.
She eyed the critter on the ground with disdain as it took another step her way. Beady eyes fixed upon her with menacing intent. Suddenly, it jumped and landed on her silk gown. Screaming, she shook her petticoats. The beast flew through the air and landed yards away, then turned and scurried into the field.
Beside Rebecca, her companion erupted into a fit of giggles. Elbowing her partner, Rebecca scowled and lifted her chin in defiance. Margaret Farnsworth would have acted the same way if the rodent had attacked her instead.
Cautiously, Rebecca peeked around the corner from her hiding place to the two-story Victorian mansion across the street to see if they had been exposed. Shadows played in the corridor as laughter floated out from the opened windows. No alarm had been sounded, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Now she waited for the moment she and Margaret could sneak inside.
From within the mansion, a tall Spaniard strolled to the front step and looked across the yard. Lithe movements took him away from the building as he lit a cheroot. Hanging Chinese lanterns, sharpening his burnished features into chiseled perfection. Rebecca’s heart raced even faster than before.
It’s him! The other rat she’d been waiting for.
Rebecca flattened herself against the side of the building. Although she might be caught, she grinned, thoroughly enjoying the rush of excitement. This particular assignment was too important to blotch up, and when she thought about catching the thief, determination surged through her. This was the only chance she would have to talk with the accused on a personal level.
Rebecca dared another peek around the corner. The object of her interest dropped his cheroot and ground it underneath the heel of his black boot. He turned and ambled back through the opened doors with the smoothness of fine silk. The sway of his walk made her grin. So very sensual.
At that moment, a masked couple raucously stumbled over the first two steps of the mansion before meeting the doorman. The masked man, wearing an ostentatious red and orange costume with too many feathers, handed the servant a card. Once the doorman scanned the missive, he motioned his hand for the couple to enter.
Holding a curse under her breath, Rebecca turned to her partner. “The front door is not an option any longer,” Rebecca whispered. “We’ll need an invitation in order to proceed through. Quick, let’s try the back way into the soirée, instead.”
Margaret sighed and shook her head, pointing over her shoulder. “We cannot go that way, either. Those tall hedges will be impossible to climb, especially in our expensive dresses. And the bushes are so thick, I don’t see a way through them.”
Rebecca patted the waist of her silver gown trimmed with black lace, to make certain her mask was still latched to her. Fancier than anything she owned, it wouldn’t break her heart to soil the lovely gown for a good cause. She’d do anything in the line of duty, and Margaret would do well to follow her lead if she wanted to become a good agent.
Squaring her shoulders, Rebecca met Margaret’s stare. “Make haste, Margaret. Idleness is something we can ill afford right now.”
Margaret gasped. “You’re not suggesting...”
“Indeed, I am. We may have to squeeze through the hedges.”
“Impossible.”
Rebecca scowled, pushed past her companion, and led the way. If the middle-aged woman wasn’t serious about winning the wager they had with Mr. Pinkerton, Rebecca definitely was going to be triumphant over this one. As an active suffragist, she wouldn’t be happy until she showed ignorant men what she was capable of accomplishing.
Although Mr. Pinkerton certainly wasn’t considered ignorant, she still needed to prove her worth to him. Maybe then he would appoint her a full-fledged agent, instead of sitting behind a desk all day.
Margaret waddled behind Rebecca as they ran across the road and toward the back of the mansion. The older woman clucked her tongue against her teeth in an irritating manner. Rebecca was certain with Margaret’s added girth, squeezing through the hedges would never have been her idea of a means of entry.
“This is underhanded, and you well know it,” Margaret muttered in an angry tone.
“All I know is that we are close to catching our Spanish thief, and I’m not going to allow anything to stop me.” Rebecca lifted her dress to her ankles and took quicker steps. True, the silk of her gown might tear, and her slippered feet might collect soil, but it was all for a good cause. A good agent wouldn’t worry about their appearance.
An image of the Spaniard’s face, flashed through her mind; short black hair, square jaw, and broad shoulders. Inwardly she sighed. Very handsome she admitted, even if he did wear a solemn expression in the photograph, but she was certain the notorious scoundrel could make any woman swoon. Men with his good looks were famous for leaving a trail of women wherever they traveled.
“We are going to get caught and tossed out,” Margaret grumbled.
Rebecca shook her head. “We’ll be wearing masks, or have you forgotten? Nobody will know who we are.”
By the time they reached the hedges, Margaret’s breaths were ragged, and she held a hand to her bosom. Perhaps Rebecca should slow the pace. But time slipped by too quickly, and shadows grew thicker the deeper the night progressed.
She bent low, studying the hedges as she crept by, hoping to find a break to enter through.
Although...maybe Margaret wouldn’t fit. Rebecca glanced over her shoulder and eyed her friend’s full figure. Nonetheless, they had to try. This might be their only chance.
From the other side of the greenery, masculine voices mixed with feminine giggles. Rebecca was certain this soirée offered plenty of spirits to keep the party going well into the night and probably into the morning. She would much rather be on the other side, enjoying the gala...or at least acting like it.
As she searched for a way into the yard, her heart quickened in panic with each step. Could her adventure be doomed so quickly? Absolutely not! She’d find a way to enter.
Tonight would be the ideal time to get to know the Spaniard. She had the perfect topic of conversation—the opera. For two weeks she’d attended one in which he performed. His singing amazed her.
If luck were on her side, he would have already consumed his share of alcohol this evening. With the easy-going atmosphere, he would undoubtedly tell her what she needed to know.
A flash of light coming from between the hedges caught her attention. A hole where the branches looked snapped. Maybe dogs had used this place to escape. Her hopes lifted and she smiled. Perfect. It might be a tight fit, but they could squeeze through the opening to the other side and hopefully not be spotted.
She came to a sudden stop. Margaret bumped into her from behind and let out a small squeal.
“Shhhh…” Rebecca turned and placed her hand over her friend’s mouth. “I found a way to get inside.”
Margaret’s eyes widened. When Rebecca pointed to the spot in the greenery, her partner scowled and shook her head.
“I cannot wedge through that tiny opening,” she mumbled against Rebecca’s palm.
“Yes, you can. We’ll both fit.” She dropped her hand from Margaret’s mouth and stepped closer to the hedge. “I’ll go first. You follow behind.”
Bunching up her skirt and holding it close to her body, Rebecca maneuvered sideways through the bushes. Branches pulled at her carefully styled hair, yanking locks out of the tight bun and sweeping dangerously close to her eyes. She proceeded through, and when she reached the other side, relief gushed through her. Quickly, she brushed her skirts and smoothed her hair. Shadows guarded her entry well.
Close to the house, a few couples strolled in the moonlight, but were evidently more interested in each other than searching the yard for intruders.
Grunts and groans from Margaret brought Rebecca’s attention back to her companion.
“For heaven’s sake, Margaret. Be quiet.” Rebecca held some of the branches back to allow her friend through. The poor woman had scratches on her face and more of her hair hung loose than remained in the knot she’d styled that morning. Just as Margaret stepped onto the grass, she tripped on fallen branch and stumbled to her knees.
When she looked up at Rebecca from the undignified position, Rebecca held in a groan of her own. No doubt she’d hear a mouthful from her companion soon, but the first order of business was to fix her own hair before someone noticed.
“You have lost your senses,” Margaret muttered as she scooted out the rest of the way. “Good Lord, woman. Will you stop at nothing to prove your worth?”
Rebecca crouched to her companion’s level and frowned. “No. I’ll stop at nothing. I’m here for a purpose, and I will do everything I can to accomplish that goal.”
Margaret looked up with a hint of rebellion etched across her face, folding her arms and huffing.
Ignoring the icy stare, Rebecca pulled out her mask from the thick band circling her waist. “Quickly, get in disguise, Margaret. We don’t want to appear out of place.”
As Margaret searched for her mask, a large, very masculine hand appeared in front of Rebecca, reaching out to help.
“May I offer assistance?”
“Yes, thank...” She sucked in a quick breath and fell back on her buttocks, staring up at the dark-haired man who wore a charming smile. Even though shadows played across his face, she would know him anywhere since she’d dreamily stared at his profile and gazed upon his magnificence for the past two weeks at the opera.
The very man she snuck into the party to find. The thief, Señor Antonio Carrera. He was here. Right in front of her. Offering his hand.
Heart beating frantically in her ears, she scrambled for something intelligent to say. After all, he had caught them sneaking in. Now she must slip into character.
She cleared her throat, preparing her British accent. “Thank you, kind sir, but I fear my friend and I have lost our...our...” She scanned the area around her friend who still sat on the ground, staring with wide eyes at Señor Carrera. Then she noticed her companion’s mask on the ground.
“Oh, there it is, Margaret.” Rebecca cheered as she picked up the mask and handed it to her friend.
“Ummm...yes.” Margaret took the mask and settled it over her eyes.
Señor Carrera chuckled, his deep voice sending ripples of warmth over Rebecca. She straightened her shoulders and met his gaze directly. Since she had not put on her mask, she decided to introduce herself. “My name is Miss Rebecca Harring, and this is my companion, Miss Margaret Smithers.”
The Spanish God bowed. “Buenas Noches, Señoritas. Have you been at this party long?”
Rebecca shrugged. “Long enough to lose a mask.”
The man laughed and shook his head. “I admire your humor.”
“We have introduced ourselves, but you, sir, have not told us to whom we’re speaking.”
“Forgive me. I am Anton.”
She arched a brow. Was Anton a nickname for Antonio? “Anton? Just Anton?”
He nodded. “That is my stage name, and we are at a soirée for the opera, are we not?”
“Indeed.”
He held out his hand to Margaret, but kept his gaze on Rebecca. “Will you permit me to escort you and your companion inside for a drink? I am certain you both are in need of refreshment after such a grueling search.”
“Certainly.”
Margaret took his hand, stood, then swiped her other hand over her dress to remove the broken twigs and leaves. Rebecca did a quick sweep over her own gown and hair. Hopefully, she looked better than she felt right now.
Anton offered his arm to Rebecca. “Shall we?”
“Yes.” She slipped her hand around his elbow, and immediately his body heat radiated and melded into her palm. Shivers of delight danced over her, and she silently cursed her reaction to the attractive man.
Entering the side door leading into a parlor, a man dressed in clothing indicating his stature as a servant, greeted them. Like Anton, the man’s skin color attested to his Spanish heritage. With only a nod from Señor Carrera, the manservant moved to the liquor tray and poured drinks. Sounds of the party drifted through a set of double doors on the far wall.
Like a gentleman, Anton escorted Rebecca to the sofa. As she and Margaret sat, he moved to his manservant and whispered something in his ear.
In the light, Anton was more handsome than she ever imagined. Hair slightly longer than she had previously assumed, made her fingers itch to touch it. His broad shoulders and chest fit comfortably into his pearl white silk shirt, gold cravat and vest. Deep blue trousers molded very nicely to his long legs, and his black shoes were elegantly shined to perfection.
Rebecca let out a soft sigh. Tonight was going to be difficult because of her silly infatuation. But try as she might, she could not deny the sudden attraction.
Then again, it had been a while since she found a man this intense and handsome.
As he shared conversation with his manservant, Anton’s gaze crossed the room and met hers. A smile of humor touched his scrumptious shaped lips while he ran his finger over his well-groomed mustache, black as midnight. He whispered something else to the servant, then came her way.
She held herself still, trying to stay in control. His towering frame stopped next to where she sat on the sofa. Deep chocolate Spanish eyes held hers prisoner.
So far Anton had proved to be a gentleman, very placid and charming. Then again, he was an actor. Yet his soft eyes held a touch of mischief, promising Rebecca his company would be a pure delight.
He handed Rebecca’s drink to her, one to Margaret and took one for himself. When the manservant left the room, Anton sat on the two-seater chair across from her. He toyed with his glass, his eyes twinkling as he looked at her, almost as if he held some kind of secret.
If only he knew she was the one with the secrets.
“I must confess,” Anton began after a few awkward moments of silence. “I recognize you from the opera.”
Rebecca choked on a sip of her champagne. She blinked slowly. “You do?”
“Sí. I was rather surprised to see the same face night after night in the balcony box. Usually one performance is enough for most people.”
Rebecca laughed, remembering to uphold her British accent. “I am not like most people, Señor Anton. If there is something I enjoy, I strive to maintain the pleasure for as long as I can.”
“As do I.” He smiled. “But please, just call me Anton. As long as I may call you Rebecca?”
“Of course.”
He took a sip of his champagne, then lowered the glass. “May I ask you a question?”
“Certainly.”
“In all the times I saw you sitting in the balcony, not once did a man escort you. Do you not have a beau or husband?”
Her heart skipped. Why would he ask such a personal question? She wavered for a moment before responding. “No, I am unattached.”
His dark brows rose. “But how can that be? Because of your beauty, men should be lined up at your door.”
Her face heated. She cursed her innocence. Good agents shouldn’t be this inexperienced. Then again, she’d only been a detective for two weeks. She and Margaret had been paired together after convincing Mr. Pinkerton, that female agents were more effective for finding their mysterious Spanish thief than male agents. Señor Antonio Carrera might not trust a man as well as he would a woman.
Anton was clever, but Rebecca viewed herself as a perfect adversary. Nobody disappeared without leaving some clue behind, and he had taken more than just jewels this time. This ladies’ man stole women’s hearts, which made it easier to find his trail.
She smiled. “Men are not lined up at my door, especially when I refuse to encourage them. If a man does not interest me, I let him know immediately.” She sipped her drink. “I would rather not waste his time if I can help it.”
He relaxed in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. The material stretched in an indecent manner over the muscles in his thighs. She enjoyed the view more than she should.
Softly, he smiled which made his eyes twinkle. “You strike me as a woman who is not afraid of going after what she wants. I think too, you are the kind who will not take no for an answer.”
“My father would have said differently, I assure you. But you are correct. Life is too short, and I want to savor every moment.”
He drummed his fingers on the armrest. “My sentiments exactly.”
“Is that why you are in the operetta group?” She cocked her head to study him. He tilted back his head and laughed, his deep baritone voice sent warmth throughout her body, and she scolded her weakened state of mind.
Beside her, she glanced at her companion whose eyelids drooped with fatigue. Rebecca dared not elbow Margaret and make a scene, but it disappointed Rebecca to think her friend was not more conscientious.
“I fear my love of singing overrides anything else in my life right now,” Anton said, drawing her attention back to him.
Rebecca relaxed more and smiled. “I think you have the most fascinating voice. I also enjoy watching you perform. Your acting abilities are better than I have ever seen. You delve into your character, and your deep emotion captures the audience. I have never seen anything like it.”
“Gracias.”
He didn’t appear embarrassed or uncomfortable over her flattery. Apparently, compliments were nothing new to him.
“Whatever made you decide to become an actor?”
He shrugged. “I led a normal life and was bored, so when the opportunity presented itself, I jumped on...how do you say...the bandwagon, and rode into the sunset.”
“But was your family not upset with your decision?”
“No. When I was just a youth my parents were shot and killed in crossfire between men who protested against the King of Spain. Because of my age, I could do as I wished.”
“How old were you?”
“I had not yet reached my eighteenth year.”
“Then who raised you?” If he could ask personal questions, so could she!
He hesitated, and she thought a line of anger crossed his brow, but his expression softened again. “My father’s brother. I joined the military when I was eighteen.” He shrugged. “It seemed the thing to do at the time.”
Even though he told a sad tale, Rebecca’s excitement grew in small degrees when she realized his life fit perfectly with the man they sought. Now, if she could get him to confess his true name.
She frowned. “I am truly sorry to hear about your parents.”
“That was the way in Spain, indeed. Things have never been the same since the war.”
The deep timbre of his voice relaxed her while he talked of war. So far, their conversation had gone smoothly, and she hadn’t experienced that uncomfortable sexual feeling since she’d first looked at him. As long as he kept his distance, she was certain she’d be able to keep from falling apart like a love-struck girl experiencing improper feelings for the first time.
Keep things nice and simple and everything will go splendidly.
A slight noise caused her to glance at her associate. Slumped in the corner of the sofa, Margaret’s head lolled back and gentle snores fluttered from her open mouth.
Embarrassment rushed through Rebecca and burned her face. She reached to shake her friend awake, but Anton sprang from his chair and knelt by Rebecca’s side, taking hold of her hands.
“No,” he commanded in soft tones. “Let her rest.”
Rebecca forced down the lump of panic in her throat. “But she fell asleep. If word gets out, my good name will be ruined since I’m alone in a man’s presence.”
He laughed. “We are isolated in a private room, mí dulce. Those who saw you come in will confirm your companion came in with you.”
“But the doors are closed now.”
“Exactly, which means nobody will have to know she is asleep.”
“But I need to wake her.”
His grin widened. “I would not count on your companion waking any time soon.” He patted Rebecca’s hand. “You see, my servant put a small amount of sleeping powder in your companion’s drink. She will be out for a few hours yet.”
A gasp tore from Rebecca as her heartbeat took on a fierce rhythm of panic. He drugged her friend? She swallowed the knot of fear lodged in her throat. “Why...why would he do something like that?”
“My manservant is very suspicious of overprotective companions.” Anton rose and pulled Rebecca with him.
She held her breath. Did he suspect her treachery already? She thought she’d covered all her tracks. If so, then why did he drug her friend? His manservant wouldn’t have done it without Anton’s approval.
Anger poured through her and she fisted her hands, trying to hold back her tongue. Remaining strong and controlling her temper was most important at this moment. Somehow, she needed to gain his trust and his confession. Showing him how upset she was over her friend’s incident was not the answer.
He stepped forward, closed the space between them as he wrapped her in his arms. Suddenly, the room seemed smaller, and her wobbly legs unsure of their strength.
His improper intentions frightened her to death. If they drugged Margaret’s drink, what did they have in store for Rebecca?
***
Anton had only one thing on his mind and it didn’t include waking Rebecca’s older companion. Rebecca was more beautiful, more charming, and more sensual than he’d imagined, and he didn’t want to waste a minute of his time, nor hers. She’d told him earlier she informed men when their attentions were not wanted, and so far she’d yet to convey a negative response to him.
That was a very good sign.
He stroked her hot cheek, still affected with embarrassment over her companion’s slumber. His thumb trailed to her bottom lip. Fascinated, he admired its gentle curve, loving the way the luscious raspberry color contrasted with her creamy smooth skin. She had a perfectly shaped face, high cheekbones, straight nose, and not overly pointed chin. Her eyes held him prisoner. Amber brown with flecks of melted gold—like her hair.
Her beauty couldn’t hide her charade. She had a secret, and he was determined to find out why she had been asking so many questions, and in an accent that seemed far too strained at times. Why the desperate interest in him? His manservant had told him about this woman, and when Anton saw her and her companion crawling through the hedges, he became more curious by the second.
“Rebecca, would you accompany me outside for a walk in the gardens?”
Her tongue darted out to swipe across her lips. The urge to taste her tempting mouth became strong, but he refrained for now. There would be time for that later...he’d see to it personally.
“But what if we’re seen?” Wariness quivered in her voice.
He shook his head. “I have arranged a private tour for us.”
“But how—”
“Shhh.” He placed a finger on her lips. “No more questions.”
Hooking her arm around his elbow, he escorted her through the side door onto a small patio that overlooked a flower garden. A thick patch of trees bordered the secluded area, keeping their walk very intimate.
As they strolled, her body shivered against him, her breath escaping in uneven spurts. He smiled, loving the power of seduction, seeing himself as an expert at the art. Rarely did a woman refuse him. This one would fall as easily, he was certain.
“So, Anton, where will your operetta group be traveling next?”
Her voice shook, and he tried not to grin. “Since it is the end of the season, we will take a short break for a few months. I plan on staying in New York during that time.” He looked down into her upturned face. “Does that please you?”
One of her perfectly shaped eyebrows rose. “Why would you think that?”
He gave a low chuckle. “This will give us more time to get to know one another. Is that not why you are here with me now?”
Her lips twitched as if she tried to keep herself from smiling. “I think you are jumping to conclusions.”
“Señorita? Are you not interested in me?”
She shrugged.
The moon gave enough illumination to show him her beautiful eyes. He moved in front of her, circling his arms around her slender waist, pulling her body against his. A gasp sprang from her, but she obeyed his gentle prompt and rested her hands on his chest.
“You mentioned earlier life is too short. If I find something I enjoy, I, too, want to savor the moment for as long as I can.” He’d repeated her words from earlier. “You, my dear Rebecca, are one of the pleasures I seek.”
“You have only known me for a short time.”
“But I have sung to you for two weeks. I have memorized every line of your face.” He traced his fingertip along side her jaw. “And every curve of your delicate figure.” He dropped his hand to her shoulder and caressed it. “How can you say I do not know you when in my mind I have already touched you? In my dreams I have kissed your sweet lips, held you against my body as your uncontrolled breath brushed my skin.”
Her breathing grew faster, accentuating the sensual rise and fall of her bosom, yet she seemed more relaxed in his arms. Seduction was within his grasp.
“How can you say I do not know you when you have been on my mind continually for two weeks?” He lowered his head and swept his lips across her cheek. “And I know you have been thinking of me. Why else would you come every night to see the opera? Why would you look at me with your angelic eyes?”
Her eyelids closed. Almost there. Brushing his lips across hers, he hesitated, teased, and prolonged the sweet pleasure—if only for a moment. But he couldn’t wait any longer. He had to taste her.
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