I shivered as I removed the pins from my hair. The fire had burned low. I shook my hair loose then slipped under the blankets on the bed. Then Brodie was there.
“Ye did well today, lass.” His arm went around me and he pulled me back against him. “Alex may well owe ye his life.”
“The bleeding has stopped. Now the worry is infection. But he should be all right when Munro gets him back to London.” I waited as we lay together.
Alex had made no secret of the fact that the attack at the museum was obviously meant for me.
I braced myself for the usual objections, that it was too dangerous, and that he wanted me to return to London as well, even though we had already discussed it.
“Aren’t you going to tell me that it would be best for me to return to London?” I waited again.
Then, “No.”
That one small word, with enormous meaning. I turned so that we were facing one another.
I traced that scar that sliced through his left brow, so very close to the eye, an encounter in our last case. He wasn’t the only one who worried over someone, the riskshetook, other injuries that eventually healed.
“It would do no good. I know that. And I trust that ye are strong, and wise, although ye do have a bit of temper from time to time.
He picked up a thick strand of my hair from my shoulders.
“Are ye certain there isn’t a fierce Viking among yer ancestors with all that fine red hair?”
I shivered slightly, though not from the cold. He did have that effect on me.
“Very possible,” I replied, then curled against him.
Fifteen
Alex was no betterin the morning, but also no worse. Except for the fever. That had me worried. According to Mr. Brimley it was a sign of infection and even more critical that Munro at least get him back to Paris as soon as possible.
Failing that and any assistance Sir Avery might be able to provide with those he knew, Munro was to take him back to London straight away and to Mr. Brimley.
“Dinna worry, miss,” Munro assured me as I again placed a hand on Alex’s forehead.
“I’ll see that he gets back safely.”
“I’m certain you will.” If not Brodie, there was no one else I would have trusted more.
We said our farewells at the rail station, even as it was not lost on me that Brodie kept a continual eye on our surroundings, those who arrived and those who departed.
“Ye have a weapon?” he asked Munro.
There was that smile, slow, and yet not precisely a smile. It was more what I might have expected of Rupert the hound when he came upon someone he didn’t like. Except for the teeth.
“Always, as ye know.”
Brodie nodded as the call went out for their departure. There was no shaking of the hand, no last-minute word of advice. They merely nodded to each other as I had seen dozens of times—silent messages passed along that each understood.
I laid a hand on Alex’s arm, and thanked him for attempting to aid me the day before, at the cost to himself
“Not at all, Miss Forsythe,” he replied with a game smile.
Farewells were said and Brodie helped Munro get him aboard their compartment. I did think that they looked a bit like three friends who had stayed at the local tavern until the wee hours of the morning as they supported Alex between them.
“He will be all right, lass,” Brodie said when he returned, his watchful look surveying others at the station who waited to board or see others on their way.
“He could not be in better hands than Munro.”
