“I’m fine.” She clenched her teeth together at the next rut in the road so she didn't bite her tongue clean through.
His eyes narrowed. “Don't let your anger keep you from getting more comfortable. I promise—”
“No.” Whatever it was, she didn't want to hear his promises. Not if they didn't include keeping her forever. “Cuddling up with you wouldn't be professional, regardless of the circumstances. And we do want to keep things professional.”
He cursed, his hands fisting and opening the way they only did when he was truly irritated.
But his irritation was no longer her concern. She turned on her hip and stared out the window. Stared at anything other than him.
Then squawked when he lifted her from her seat and plopped her down beside him, his arm banding around her waist.
“What do you think you're doing?” She pushed at his chest, but he was immovable. The carriage hit the next bump in the road, and he squeezed her to his side, keeping them locked together.
“Making sure you don't break your fool neck out of pique.” He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Let me hold you, Juliana. Please.”
She stopped squirming, sagging against him. There was no fight left in her. The warmth of his body seeped into her side. She didn't want to like being pressed against him so much, but for the first time in days, she felt safe.
She felt like she was home.
She dropped her head to his shoulder. “What am I going to do? My brother…” Her voice broke.
“I know.” He ran his hand up and down her arm. “We’ll figure it out. You’re strong. And I'll be there to help you. As your friend.”
The last word was the one that broke her. Tears slid down her cheeks before ugly sobs tore from her throat.
Her brother wanted to kill her father, to kill her.
And Brogan was only her friend.
She felt like she had fallen down a dark hole, and she saw no way to ever climb out.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Brogan jumped from the carriage, turning to give his hand to Juliana. The trip had been grueling, in more ways than one. The breakneck pace and little sleep had made all of his muscles ache.
Being confined with Juliana made something else inside of him ache even more.
“We’re finally here.” Juliana climbed down the steps and pressed her hands to her lower back, arching. She gazed at the house, worrying her bottom lip.
It was a two-story stone structure with elegant side wings. It seemed like a more impressive house than a man who wrote lines about love should be able to afford, but what did Brogan know? Juliana admired Rose; the man must be good.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “What am I going to say to Father?”
He shoved his hands in his pockets to keep them from doing something stupid, like pulling her in for an embrace or rubbing the soreness from her back. “The truth.” He cleared his throat. “You'll tell your father the truth. What he does with it is up to him.”
She swallowed. “This is the end of my family. No matter what happens, nothing will ever be the same.”
Someone like her poet would have found the words to comfort her. Said something to give her courage and lift her spirits.
Brogan had nothing. Nothing but honesty. “No, life will never be the same for you. But you'll survive.”
She nodded and smiled as a butler approached. “Let’s get this over with,” she said. She introduced them to the butler and told him she had an urgent need to speak to her father.
“Of course, mum.” He took their coats. “I'll have one of the lads see to your horses and your driver. You can follow me.” His smile included Brogan in the invitation, but it wouldn't have mattered if it hadn’t. There was no way Brogan was leaving her side. He'd seen her through the investigation this far. He would see her through to the end.
Their footsteps echoed down the long corridor. Colorful paintings lined the walls, along with bookcases crammed full of books sticking out every which way.
The man must do nothing but read. And this was the type of man that Juliana admired. This was the type of man who deserved her.
