He took her hand and squeezed. “You’re safe now.”
A harsh chuckle tore from her throat. “It’s hard to feel safe when the ground under your feet is constantly shifting. I just need to get through the next weeks, ensure my mother isn’t arrested for something she didn’t do”—with that she gave him a pointed look—“then wait for the next hurdle to cross our path. There’s always another hurdle.”
His leg beginning to cramp, he rose and pulled her up with him. “You don’t have to face those difficulties alone.” He rubbed at a smudge of ash on her cheek. “Why haven’t you married?”
“I…” She raised one shoulder, her gaze fixed at a point on his chest. “I suppose I never met anyone with whom I match. We were struggling when I came of age, but I was raised a gentlewoman. I didn’t fit into the lives of the merchants or men of service around me. I suppose I could have found a nice tutor or clergyman, but it never seemed important. Staying with my parents, helping them as much as I could, that was what mattered.”
He cupped her chin, raised it until she had no choice but to look in his eyes. “That does matter, but it’s all right to let someone help you, as well. Let someone take care of you for once.”
Her breath caught. “Are you offering to be that someone?”
Damn right. His mental response came immediately, without hesitation. He didn’t let his mind wander to all the reasons this was a bad idea. To all the reasons they shouldn’t be together. Eleanor could have died that night. Could have come home with more than a light burn. As much as he needed to reassure her, he needed comfort himself. His blood raced, reminding him they were both alive, and that life was precious and short.
He didn’t answer her with words. He pulled her to him, his fingers burrowing into her thick hair, knocking it free from its pins. He clutched her to him for one breathless moment before taking her mouth with his own. Tasting her sweetness. Swallowing her moan.
Eleanor wrapped her arms around his back, fitting her body against his. Banding one hand around her waist and the other under her rump, he lifted and carried her without ceremony or grace to his bedroom.
Their fingers tangled in a rush to remove clothes. Eleanor must have felt the same madness as he, the same driving urge to prove they had cheated death. The weak glow of a half-moon andthe remnant of light from the lamp in the other room provided more shadow than illumination. His palms skimming her heated flesh cast an image of her in his mind rather than sight. His lips memorized the swell of her breast, the soft curve of her belly.
Frederick didn’t think about his duty to catch Lady Richford’s killer, couldn’t worry that this woman’s mother might be guilty. His only thought was how fortunate he was to be able to hold her in his arms. How a few inches difference in where that burn bottle had landed could have taken this night from him, this woman. And with the backs of his eyes burning with an emotion he couldn’t quite place, Frederick eased himself inside of her.
Their breaths heated each other’s lips. Their bodies moved as one. And for the first time that he could remember, Frederick felt truly at peace.
*
“I’m glad younever found a nice tutor.”
Eleanor couldn’t contain her snort of laughter. She buried her face in his side. His warm, very naked side. She still couldn’t quite believe what they had done. The audacity of the act made her giddy. All the advances she’d rebuffed over the years. The marriage proposals her father’s wealth had elicited that she’d turned down. Only to find herself in the arms of a Bow Street Runner.
A Runner who thought her mother might have killed a woman.
Her euphoria waned. She wasn’t wont to act irrationally, and she frowned, unsure of her next step. The idea of leaving his bed, his warmth, getting dressed and going home left her cold.
But she couldn’t stay here. She had more freedom than most women her age with no male family member to check hermovements, but staying out all night was a bridge too far, even for her independent spirit. And what would Frederick expect of her now? What did she want of him? The one predictable part of her life, her status as a single, unmatched, unmated woman, she’d blasted a cannonball through in under one hour.
Her stomach twisted. Would he expect her to change her whole life now?
And how much worse would it be if he wanted nothing to change?
He tugged on a lock of her hair. “What are you thinking about? Your entire body went hard as a rock.”
She ran her fingers over his chest, marveling at the hard muscle underneath, the springiness of the hair above. She might never get another chance to explore his body so. “Only that I’d better start home. Maids do talk.”
He rolled, pinning her beneath his body. “Then we should give them something worth talking about.”
He lowered his mouth just as a loud knocking battered against his front door.
Frederick dropped his forehead to hers, blowing out a breath. “Stay here.” He climbed out of bed and found a banyan, shoving his arms through.
Eleanor got out after him, looking for her shift. No matter what he said or how much she might want to stay, it was better to leave now. It would be far too easy to fall asleep curled next to him, and where would that get her?
Her self-restraint wasn’t needed. Because she was eavesdropping as Frederick opened his front door, she heard the other man clearly.
“Stauncey wants you. There’s been another murder. Edgar Bannister is dead.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Frederick
