“Come now, sweetheart.” He continued stroking her, as much to console her, as himself. “You do not resemble a bone in the slightest.”
He was not certain where this newfound capacity for levity originated. But he wanted to hear her laugh. Wanted to bring her a moment of lightness in the midst of such darkness. And he succeeded at that, his reward the hitch of her breath and a reluctant chuckle, before she squelched the sound.
“You know what I meant to say,” she returned without heat. She showed no indication of pushing him away. Indeed, her arms had tightened.
He held her now as he should have earlier. But her discovery of the device beneath her bed had led to a frantic race to notify Scotland Yard and Winchelsea. Thank Christ the colonel lived nearby. If he had not been present to disable the infernal death machine…
Concern for someone beyond the circle of his small family—essentially his sister Violet and their Great Aunt Hortense—was foreign for him. He did not like it. Vulnerability had not been a mantle he had worn in years.
“I know what you meant to say,” he answered her at last, his voice thickened by worry and guilt. “But please understand me, Hazel, the thought of you being injured or killed on my watch is enough to make me want to retch. Already, you were attacked by these bastards, and now they have trespassed in my home with the intent to murder you. Let me make this right.”
“We must make it right together,” she said, a stinging note of censure in her voice. “We are equals, Lucien. Partners, if you will recall.”
“We are partners, yes, but that does not mean I do not want to see you safe,” he returned, his words muffled by the top of her head.
He inhaled her scent, holding it in his lungs. She was special to him. More than just his partner. More than a fellow agent he respected and admired. He did not merely care for her. She had somehow come to mean so much more to him. She had smashed through his protective turrets with her cannon balls, and he was not certain he wanted to rebuild them.
“I do not need anyone else, Lucien.”
But though she protested, she was still clinging to him, as he was to her, as if they were adrift together in the sea, and releasing each other would be the end of them. She was stubborn…and strong, so strong.
Stronger than he was, he began to suspect.
“Hazel,” he said, pulling back so he could look down into her face and meet her gaze. He cupped her cheek in one hand, unable to resist tracing the high arch of her cheekbone with his thumb. “I have never met another woman more capable of taking care of herself. Nor have I known another as fiercely determined. I admire you, I respect you, and in the time since you first walked through the door of this very room, you have astounded me. But you cannot truly believe I will simply allow you to leave me now, after all that has happened between us.”
“I gave you my body, Lucien, not sovereignty over me,” she countered in return. “You cannotallowme to do anything.”
“You are correct.”Devil take it, he was making a hash of this. When had he ever blundered so much? “You entrusted yourself to me, did you not?”
Her striking eyes burned into his. “Yes.”
“Then trust me now, Hazel.” He would not plead, would not beg. But neither could he let this go. Let her go. He wasn’t ready, and he could not shake the feeling, if she either set out on her own or stayed with Winchelsea, she would be forever lost to him. “Trust me, please.”
“Why do you care so much?” she asked, searching his gaze, as if she would find the answer there.
He did not think she would, when he little knew the answer himself. In lieu of a response, he pressed a reverent kiss to the cool smoothness of her forehead. “Please,” he repeated.
She sighed, then nodded resolutely. “I trust you, Lucien.”
Relief and gratitude flowed through him. He would have kissed her lips, but for the presence of Winchelsea on the other side of the door. Instead, he settled for a chaste kiss on her cheek. Just one.
“Thank you,” he said, and he had never meant two words more.
Chapter Seventeen
The hour waslate by the time Lucien escorted Hazel and Lady Beaufort to the townhouse of the Duke of Strathmore. His august aunt was fidgeting with the ribbons of her black bonnet, clearly in high dudgeon after the unprecedented events of the evening. Hazel could not blame her, for she felt shaken herself.
Beyond shaken, if she were honest.
“How are we to ever believe we are safe again, Arden?” Lady Beaufort demanded of Lucien, who sat opposite them, grim and silent in the low lamp of the carriage light. “Now they are hiding dynamite in your very home. When will it end?”
“Strathmore will make certain you are safe. I dare not entrust the welfare of you and Miss Montgomery to another,” Lucien said, though the admission sounded grudging, as if torn from him. “You cannot remain at Lark House until I can determine precisely how the blackguards were able to enter undetected and plant a bomb in Miss Montgomery’s chamber. As for when this will end, I very much fear none of it will until those responsible are commended to prison where they belong.”
The reminder of the reason for their impromptu flight sent a chill through Hazel. She did not believe in fear—a woman in her profession could not afford to dwell on it—but she did know something of shock. She felt it now, making her mouth dry, making her hands tremble. Making her go cold and numb. She had felt this extreme possession only once previously, when Adam had been murdered before her, and she had held his lifeless body in her arms.
“I still cannot approve of the manner in which Strathmore stole your sister from us, hauling her out of Lark House with a blade fashioned from a dinner plate held to her throat. The finest china, and that miscreant turned it into a weapon. Thank heavens the servants did not spread tales. Only imagine how the gossips would sink their talons into such a monstrosity,” Lady Beaufort grumbled.
“We do not speak of it now,” Lucien said tightly. “I was in err for persecuting Strathmore unjustly. The mistake was mine, and I am thankful Lettie and Strathmore were able to prove me wrong.”
