Longing For You

She has secrets, and falling for a murder suspect isn’t one of them. He doesn’t trust her, but he must play along with her charade to get the answers he needs. Together they must work together to overcome obstacles, and now allow their hearts to be affected.

In the shadow of her blossoming love for the man of her dreams, Francine Laurent grapples with an undercover mission bestowed upon her by the Metropolitan Police. Assigned to delve into a series of brazen railway heists, she finds herself torn when her investigation points to Morgan Brooks, a charming co-owner of Liverpool’s bustling railways, as the prime suspect.

As the stakes soar, Francine battles to reconcile her flourishing affection for Morgan with the incriminating evidence against him. Yet as secrets unravel and trust wavers, she realizes that the truth may not only jeopardize her heart but also unravel her carefully concealed identity.

Determined to maintain her professional integrity and shield her own secrets, Francine embarks on a perilous journey where love and loyalty collide, and the cost of deception may prove higher than she ever imagined.

Immerse yourself in this enchanting Victorian romance, where delicate passion is gently woven, inviting your imagination to bring the story to life.

Terror seized Francine Laurent’s whole body as she stared at the pistol pointing straight at her. She stood as still as he could, daring not even to breathe, even though her heartbeat knocked crazily against her ribs. She had to do something to calm herself. Slowly, she released a small bit of air between her lips and forced her frightened brain to start functioning.

Francine shifted her gaze from the black, shiny weapon in his hand to the distrustful eyes of Morgan Brooks, one of Liverpool Railway’s co-partners. As one of the wealthiest men in the area, he topped her list of suspects for the recent robberies.

Swallowing her fear felt impossible since it remained lodged in her throat. She slowly moved her arms in front of her and clasped her cold fingers together.

Morgan stepped further into the room until he reached the low-burning lamp on the side table. He turned up the wick, brightening the area. She squinted, peering through cracked lids to test her vision after being in the shadows for so long.

Instead of his generally handsome face, a frown marred his rugged features. Her heart twisted. She had been caught and she needed to find a way out of the quicksand that slowly swallowed her.

She licked her suddenly dried lips, and cleared her throat. “Morgan, wh-what are you doing here?”

“I live here.” He arched a critical eyebrow. “Or had that somehow slipped your mind as you wandered through my empty house uninvited?”

Her heart clenched. He knew very well it hadn’t slipped her mind. No matter what, she couldn’t tell him what she suspected him of doing. “Forgive me, but I assumed you wouldn’t mind due to our, um… close acquaintance. You see, I seem to have left my wrist purse somewhere, and I thought perhaps I had left it here when I came to your dinner party the other evening.”

Gradually, he lowered the pistol, but suspicion still sparked in his eyes. “Then you should have sent me a note and I would have searched for it. But you waited until you thought I had left before sneaking into my house. Not only that, but when you were here the other evening with my friends, we all congregated in the sitting room, not here in the study. So, now I am to wonder why you would think your wrist purse is in this particular room.”

Inwardly, she grumbled. Distrust radiated from his gaze and nearly shattered her defenses. How could she have been so careless? As her heartbeat throbbed in her throat, her mind whirled with confusion. What could she have done differently? Then again, it didn’t matter. She had to deal with what was going on now…and try to get out of this sticky situation. Unfortunately, she couldn’t think straight to save her life.

She shrugged, wishing her body wasn't so stiff. She couldn't let him see how frightened he made her. If she couldn't make herself relax, perhaps she could at least keep her voice steady. “Pardon me, once again for assuming, because I had just supposed you would bring my purse in here to keep it safe until I came for it.”

Hopefully, he would believe that statement. For a moment, she thought it had worked, because his arm lowered another inch.

He studied her through a hooded gaze. Still his mouth hadn’t moved from the distrustful scowl fixed upon his expression when he first entered the room. She didn’t dare say anything more, but she felt the need to convince him that she wasn’t trying to steal from him.

Steal? She could have laughed. She wouldn’t be the one stealing… he would.

Doubtful, he would suspect her of anything, especially a Secret Agent. After all, women usually didn’t have occupations like this, and she had worked so hard to try to present herself as a carefree heiress who didn’t know how to use her mind. To be sure, Morgan Brooks would be shocked to know this wasn’t her at all, which was why he must never know. She must protect her true identity.

Being in the family business was hard, but she had been taught from a young age to use her head. She had learned from the best agents—her father and brother. Now, if only her mind would start working properly, just as it was trained to do.

Yet since meeting Morgan Brooks, things had not gone as planned. Especially when she had allowed him to capture her heart.

Unfortunately, nothing would ever be the same again. It didn't matter that he was a thief. Every time he flashed his sweet smile, her heart melted.

He took another step toward her. “I see your reasoning. However, you haven’t answered my question on why you came to my house when you thought I was gone?”

Oh, dear. She moistened her mouth and swallowed again before answering. “I had actually dropped by hoping you were home, but the lights were out. I knew it was late, and… and I really didn’t want to bother you with something so mundane. I thought if I could sneak in and just peek in your study, no harm would be done.” She smiled as charmingly as she could muster with quivering lips.

“Miss Laurent,” he said, coming even closer, “do you make it a habit of going out after dark to visit men at their homes, and then sneak in when the lights are out?”

What was wrong with her? Never before had she felt so dumbstruck. Then again, she’d never felt this way about a man before, either. “Well, no, but—”

“Francine,” he whispered her name closing the space between them as he stood in front of her. “I have always wondered something about you from the very first time we met. I couldn’t quite understand what had me so perplexed, but I felt as if you were holding secrets.” He swept the fingers of his free hand along the curls by her cheek. “I now realize that you are not the woman you pretend to be.”

Ice chilled her blood. No! He couldn’t possibly know that. She wouldn’t admit the truth to him even if he threatened her life. But with him holding a gun on her, perhaps her life was at stake. She mentally pushed the thought aside. He wouldn’t shoot her. They’d been through too much already; too many shared kisses, too many shared moments that could never be erased.

She inhaled deeply, taking in his leathery scent—evidence that he'd been riding his horse again. His fingers stroked her cheek, rekindling the warmth in her face that the shock of seeing him had stolen. “I-I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, my dear, Francine.” He shook his head slowly. “It is time to stop playing this game with me. I’ve suspected who you were for a few days now.”

She gasped, her mouth turning dry. Blood rushed to her head, causing her skull to pound so fast she thought it would explode. She must do something to change his mind. Scanning the room behind him, she hoped to find a direct path in which to bolt—without being shot, of course. She couldn’t possibly accept the fact that her cover had been blown.

“You thought I had been lying to you?” she asked, her voice much higher than she wanted.

He shrugged. “Not at first, but the more we talked, the more I realized your charade.”

She swallowed hard, wishing she could get control over the situation. He couldn’t possibly have guessed her secret. She must turn the tables, and fast. “I, sir, do not have a charade. If anyone has one, it’s you.”

“And how did you come to that conclusion, my dear?”

Once again, he had put her on the spot. When would her mind start functioning correctly? She needed to think rationally soon. “Oh come now. You cannot tell me that you haven’t heard the rumors.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Rumors? Of what, may I ask?” His voice was steady and entirely too confident.

Uncomfortable, she laughed lightly. She tried to regain her breathing and gain control once again. “The train robberies these past few months, of course. Have you forgotten about them so soon? Money has been stolen from your railway.”

He scowled. “You don’t have to explain the robberies. Because I’m one of the owners, I know what is going on. But what does this have to do with me?”

She swept a still-shaky hand through the air around her, motioning to the room’s décor. “It’s rumored that your coffers have doubled in the past few months. Now tell me, Mr. Brooks, is it just a coincidence that you decided to decorate around the same time as the railway thefts?”

An indescribable expression crossed his features and darkened his face. She couldn’t tell if he was extremely humored at her comment, or shocked that she would say such a thing. Gradually, she felt like things would finally turn her way. She had caught him, not the other way around. Indeed, she would take back the upper hand in this verbal swordplay of mind control.

He kept silent for several awkward moments as his gaze bore deep into hers. She didn’t dare say anymore until he gave his reply.

Slowly, the unfathomable expression left his face as a grin tugged on the corners of his mouth. He moved closer, not stopping until he was a mere breath away. The bulk of her gown rubbed against the material of his trousers. Uncertainty jumped inside her, and although instinct told her she should be afraid, fear was not the emotion swirling inside her stomach and warming her blood right now.

The pistol he clutched fell to his side, but his weapon of choice now was his limb-melting gaze and sensual grin. This one was more dangerous.

“Francine,” he said in a husky tone, “are you seriously accusing me of stealing from my own railway?”

A quick thought flitted through her head. He must be some kind of thief because he’d stolen her heart. And it seemed, he was trying to steal it again as he struggled to gain control over the conversation.

Up this close, the few freckles across his nose were more prominent, and the dimple in his cheek made her want to stroke the pad of her finger across it. Instead, she did her best to remain still, even if her insides were having a jumping match. “I’m not accusing you of anything, Mr. Brooks. I’m merely pointing out the similarities. Money was stolen, and suddenly, you have acquired quite a bit, enough to remodel your townhouse, in fact.”

“Didn’t I ask you to call me Morgan?” His voice deepened.

“Uh, yes.”

“Then why aren’t you?”

“Because I thought… well, you see… I just don’t think—”

“Francine, do you know how lovely you are when you’re flustered?” He caressed her cheek.

A shiver of excitement rattled through her, and she cursed her body for having such a reaction. Why had he said such a thing—now, of all times? Had it slipped his mind that he’d caught her in his house, and that he was holding a pistol?

Then it struck her like a railroad spike between the eyes, and the realization made her heart sink. He was trying to change the subject. For some reason, he didn’t want to talk about the train robbery or that he’d suddenly come across more money. He was using his charm to weaken her.

That only meant one thing.

The man was guilty. Morgan Brooks was indeed the train robber—or at least one of the men involved. Because of his position with the company, he was probably the one who had planned the whole thing and hired the thugs to do the dirty work.

“You think I’m flustered?” she asked, her voice cracking.

His grin widened. “Aren’t you?” His touch moved from her cheek to her bottom lip. The pad of his thumb rubbed the skin, his gaze staying on that spot. “In these past few weeks of knowing you, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you stumble over your words. In all that time, you have been a confident woman. You say what’s on your mind. So to answer your question, yes, I do think you’re flustered.” He paused, and then added, “And I find it adorable.”

Slowly, his head dipped closer as his hand dropped to her shoulder. He’s going to kiss me! Yet knowing this didn’t make her want to stop him at all. Instead, she was encouraged and grasped his waistcoat with both of her hands, waiting… anticipating his lips on hers.

His warm breath touched her mouth just before his lips did. Sighing a satisfied breath, she leaned into him, pressing her mouth intimately against his. Strong arms wrapped around her body, settling her in his embrace a little better. When her hands felt imprisoned between their chests, she slid her palms up over his shoulders to the nape of his neck.

Although gentle, the kiss was also wild. He kissed her like he couldn’t get enough, slanting his head from side to side. She responded with the same eagerness.

Inside her heart, emotion grew—very tender; very endearing. But inside her head, doubts crept in, reminding her that he only acted this way as a diversion. It shouldn’t matter how charming, handsome, and sweet he’d been to her—and how incredible he made her feel when kissing him—he was guilty. He would eventually be arrested and thrown in prison for his crimes. Unless, of course, the judge decided to hang Morgan, instead.

Her conscience screamed for her to stop the kiss and remember her training, but she couldn’t. Indeed, he was a thief. He’d taken away her control once more. This time, however, she didn’t mind that much, especially when a few pleasurable sighs released from his throat. At least she wasn’t the only one enjoying the moment.

Within seconds, his lips grew soft, and his actions tender, his kisses slow, almost leisurely. He left her breathless. How could a heartless criminal show her so much affection? It was obvious he did care about her in some way.

When he finally broke the kiss, he seemed to have difficulty breathing as well. His hazel eyes smoldered with desire while he held her stare. She scrambled for something intelligent to say, but as before, she was at a loss for words.

Soon, the scowl reappeared on his face and he frowned. “You kiss too well for an innocent woman. Just as I suspected, you are not whom you proclaim to be.” He released her and stepped several feet back, raising the pistol to her once more. “Such a shame I have to shoot you. We could have been good for each other.”

Fear jolted through her again. This time, it nearly dropped her body to the ground. Why hadn’t she thought to unarm him when he’d been in her embrace? He couldn’t kiss her as passionately as he did and then kill her! This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. There must be a way to convince him otherwise.

Sadness darkened his face and he shook his head. “Believe me, Francine, I wish things would have turned out differently.”

Tears blurred her vision. “No, Morgan!”

The fire of a pistol exploded through the room. Darkness quickly filled her mind as she collapsed on the floor.