miracle in her favor that the Wilkinsons did not know to keep up with the effects of tropical humidity on Victorian houses. Within minutes, she had carved out just enough to begin levering it open. With the barest of creaks, the window turned on its hinges and swung open. Quick and silent as a shadow, Isabella slipped into the house.
With all the stealth and grace of a cat, she padded across the dimly lit room to the door, where she paused to listen. The house servants were chatting in the kitchens, obviously relaxed since their masters had left for the evening. Wary of creaky floorboards, Isabella eased into the hall, crept up the stairs and tiptoed into Miss Wilkinson’s rooms.
She saw what she was after immediately.
The rich, golden silk robe had been slung casually over the back of a chair, its hand-embroidered edges trailing on the tatty carpet. Isabella greeted it as an old friend, and gathered the silk into her arms. The luxurious cloth was heavy and thick with an unmistakable luster; it had obviously been the garment of an ancient emperor. As she let the silk slide over her skin, Isabella imagined that it was the caress of a lover—for surely a lover’s hands would feel as splendidly smooth.
And then, with the slightest whisper of silk, Isabella—the most notorious thief of Hong Kong—slipped away, vanishing into the shadows.
Chapter Two
The summer ball was already in full swing when Isabella reached the grounds of Mountain Lodge, the British Governor of Hong Kong’s summer residence. Light from the ballroom spilled from tall sash windows, casting rectangles of light onto manicured lawns. Isabella picked her way up the hill, darting from shadow to shadow, until she reached the edge of the manor house. Pressed up against the stone outer wall, she tugged carefully at the silky gauze that concealed the lower half of her face, gently checking that the knots were tight. It simply would not do to be caught so close to the end of her mission.
Choosing the dark window of a guest room she knew to be unoccupied, she slipped into the great house silently. She carefully adjusted the precious bundle at her side and crept stealthily toward the corridor. But when she pushed the heavy oak door open, sudden and unexpected light from the corridor spilled across her face, and her eyes squinted immediately in response. Silently cursing her luck, she slid out of the guest room and into the guest-wing hallway, quietly padding toward the family wing. Just as she was about the turn the corner, the sound of voices reached her ears. They were yet far off, but she still crouched and tensed, straining to hear.
“They say the Lord Henry James is a wild and unapologetic womanizer.” It was a deep bass voice, easily recognized as the voice of the governor.
“Yes, that is the rumor,” his son, Arthur, answered with a chuckle, “But his father, the good duke, has threatened to disinherit him if he catches word of one more scandal. In fact, I have it on good authority that Lord James has been tasked to find a suitably marriageable debutante while here in Hong Kong.”
“And you think he would be interested in our family?” The governor asked doubtfully.
“Why not? We’re of decent lineage, and securing ties with us would give the duke a foothold in the East.” Arthur rejoined, “And let’s not forget; my sister is an uncommon beauty.”
“A profitable match for both parties, no doubt,” the governor agreed. “Shall we see if the young Lord James can be roused from his sleep to join our ball?”
Their voices grew louder as their footfalls approached, and Isabella could hesitate no longer. Heart hammering at the grave possibility of being discovered, she took off at a run in the opposite direction, going deeper into the guest wing of the manor. Her feet slid on the plush carpet as she rounded another corner—and into the chest of a man. Isabella staggered backward, thoughts of the men behind her completely forgotten as she took in the unexpected sight of the man in front of her.
He stared at her in open shock, his moist lips parted in surprise and his fingers still lingering on the lower buttons of his open shirt. Dark hair mussed and breathing heavy, he seemed to have just finished some strenuous—and perhaps, lewd—activity. Involuntarily, Isabella’s eyes dropped from his strong jaw to the bared plane of his chest, where his taut muscles were chiselled in sharp relief. Frozen, the two stared at each other until the startling creak of a floorboard forced them back to the present.
Hemmed in on both sides, Isabella felt her chest tighten in panic. And when her unsuspecting pursuers showed no sign of slowing their approach, she decided to make a mad dash past the stranger. Before she could even tense to spring forward, she felt strong fingers wrap around her upper arm. A firm tug pulled her off balance and she tumbled to the side, quickly finding herself ensconced in the heavy damask curtains adorning a window—and encircled tightly by the stranger’s strong arms. Isabella furtively glanced up into the stranger’s face and met slate-gray eyes which clearly communicated his intentions. To further impress the warning upon her, he leaned in and lightly placed two fingers against her lips. She nodded slightly, bowed her head and fought to quell her slight trembling at being so suddenly pressed to a man.
Isabella had never been so near a man in her life, and she felt her cheeks burn at the proximity. With every short breath that she took, she inhaled the scent of his sweat and cedar musk. She could feel every line of his hard body against her own: thigh against thigh and chest to chest. She could even feel the pounding of his heart under her open palms.
Isabella stilled. The men were about to pass, and the stranger’s shoulders still moved with heavy panting from his prior exertions, rustling the curtains with every exhale. Moving with painful slowness so as not to disturb the fabric concealing them, Isabella reached up to cup his cheek in one hand to draw his attention downward. His eyes widened fractionally as she pressed her bosom against his chest, her small fingers splayed across his collar bone. And then, she took one deep breath and exhaled slowly. Her green eyes, bright even in the dim light, begged him to understand as her breathing grew soft, still and silent. He followed her lead, mimicking her rhythm and following the rise and fall of her breast with his own.
The footsteps passed them but did not fade away into the corridor. Instead they paused. Three sharp raps on a door followed.
“Lord James?” The governor called, knocking again.
The stranger’s hands tightened around her waist as the governor called out again. Isabella twisted her fingers in the material of his loosened shirt, wordlessly urging him to stay silent.
“Maybe he’s already left for the ball?” Arthur muttered.
“Most likely,” The governor replied, “Shall we meet him there?”
“I shall join you presently,” Arthur said, “Allow me to fetch my sister from her rooms. I did not see her at the beginning of the ball, and it would not do for her to miss his lordship’s eye.”
Their footfalls faded from earshot as they went back the way they came, and Isabella breathed a sigh of relief. She tried to step away, only to find the stranger’s arms as bands of steel around her, his gray eyes alight with interest. His hand went for the thin cloth covering her face, but she caught his wrist with nimble fingers. To her surprise, he did not seem perturbed at her scandalous disguise, nor by the fact that he had a possible criminal locked in his arms. Instead, his expression was only curious. How strange, Isabella thought as her eyes traced the outline of his attractive lips, how intriguing.
“Who are you?” He asked, searching her gaze.
“Do not ask questions you do not wish to answer yourself,” she hissed, twisting in his grip, remembering her mission.
