Jane Feather - Charade by Unknown (howl and other poems .TXT) 📕

"Good lord! I begin to suspect the baker knew what he was about—Ishould have left you to him, you outrageous brat!" He swung the childin front of him, laying a firm hand on the small buttocks propellinghim upward. Danny's triumphant smirk died away as he heard hisself-appointed guardian demand over his shoulder a tub of very hotwater, soap, and towels immediately.

They reached the first landing and the earl struggled to maintain hisgrip on the suddenly desperate, squirming, wriggling body with one handwhile he unlatched a wooden door with the other.

"Be still, you ridiculous infant," he demanded in exasperation pushinghim into the room with an ungentle shove, kicking the door shut afterthem.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he began more gently and then sworeviolently as the urchin launched himself in full attack, nails andteeth searching for purchase as wooden shod feet flailed againstLinton's immaculately clad legs.

"You hell-born brat!" Now totally exasperated and not a little anxiousfor his fine garments, not to mention his skin, the earl caught thespitting creature around an amazingly small waist lifting him high inthe air, holding him at the full extent of his long arms. The shock oflosing the ground beneath his feet temporarily stilled the wildlythrashing Danny, and in the manner of a true campaigner Linton tookimmediate advantage of his opponent's momentary disarmament and tossedhim unceremoniously onto the bed.

"You move from there, brat, and I'll finish what the baker started!" hegritted, bending to brush the dust from the dove-colored silkenstockings, rubbing against a bruised shin in the process. It wouldindeed have gone ill with the urchin at that point had he attempted tomove. However, although the brown eyes smoldered and the breath camequick and fast, the boy remained on the bed. If the earl had chanced tolook, he would have seen a speculative, calculating gleam in theover-big eyes as Danny quieted himself, but a brisk knock on the doorprovided distraction.

"Entrez."

A procession of serving wenches with jugs of hot water and two lackeysstruggling beneath the weight of an enormous porcelain tub marched intothe room. Danny watched their preparations, grim desperation in eyesthat flicked wildly to the half-open door. But the tall figure of hiserstwhile savior blocked the escape route. All gratitude for Milord'sintervention in the fracas with the baker had now vanished, and iffaced with the choice between the belt and the tub of water, therewould have been no contest.

Steam rose from the bath as the last jug of water hissed to join itsfellows and, with a bow, the procession left the chamber. The firmclick of the door rang a knell in the boy's miserable ears.

"Milord," he began hesitantly: "You don't quite understand ..."

"I understand perfectly," the earl interrupted curtly, still mindful ofhis bruised shin. "You have more layers of dirt on you than you haveskin. God only knows when you last saw water! Now, get those rags offand get in the tub." Hard hands grasped the" boy's upper arms liftinghim off the bed. As his feet touched ground, Danny made a lastdesperate bid for the door.

"What in Hades is the matter with you?" Linton hissed furiously. "Alittle water won't harm you." He reached for the neck of the raggedshirt, and as Danny wrenched himself sideways, the threadbare materialsplit with a harsh rending sound.

Total silence filled the room for a breathless moment. Justin, Earl ofLinton, released his hold and

stepped back, for once in his thirty-four years completely nonplussed.

"It seems I didn't understand," he murmured, pulling his eyes away fromthe enchanting prospect of two small but perfectly formed breasts,their rose coral tips jutting as defiantly, it seemed, as the smallpointed chin above. He noticed absently that the girl—undoubtedly agirl—made no attempt to shield herself, merely stood, shoulders back,eyes glaring a challenge.

"So, milord, what do you choose to do with me now?"

He inhaled sharply, even more thoroughly taken aback. That was not thevoice of a street urchin. She, whoever she was, had issued herchallenge in the well accented, carefully modulated speech of a Frencharistocrat.

"Who are you?" he demanded harshly.

"My name is Danny" came the soft, determined reply.

"Not good enough, my child." Her refusal to cover herself suddenlyirritated him. He was not used to being made to feel ridiculous. With aswift movement he seized the thin arms, pulling them away from

her sides, his eyes deliberately raking the bare breasts.

"No Daniel carried quite such a sweetly adorned body." His words andeyes embedded their sharp insults like shards of steel in a spirit morevulnerable than he realized. Hurt darkened those deep velvet eyes sunkin the small, pinched, dirty face and he gave a sudden rueful sigh ashe released her.

"Your name, brat?" he demanded, going over to the bath, running a handthrough the water to test its temperature.

"Danielle."

"Do not imagine, Mademoiselle Danielle, that I shall be satisfied withthat," he warned softly, turning back to the still figure. "But fornow, I intend to proceed as I began. Are you going to take off thosefilthy britches, or am I?"

The look of horror flashing across the drawn face, hanging in theliquid pools of her eyes, convinced him of one thing. Whatever else shemight be, this girl/waif was no wanton.

Deliberately he turned his back, crossed the sun-filled chamber to asmall rosewood table by the mullioned casement, poured a glass ofsherry from the decanter and, as deliberately, hooked a chair to facethe window and sat, gazing with unwarranted interest at the streetscene below.

Danielle looked at the averted back for no more than an instant beforest ripping off her remaining garments and sliding into the hot waterwith a sigh of contentment that was not lost on her companion.

"Don't forget to wash your hair while you are about it," he remarkedcoolly. "What's left of it, anyway. I've a fancy to see what color itts under