“We rode just yesterday, Papa.”
“We did?”
“We did, but I shall be happy to join you again.”
“You should be careful you don’t take another fall,” Daphne said spitefully, drawing the duke’s attention to her. “We wouldn’t want anyone else to get hurt now, would we?”
His eyes narrowed. “You’re a pretty girl but you should smile more. You look very mean when you don’t smile.”
Daphne’s eyes narrowed in return. “So you have already said, your grace.”
“Well?” he bellowed. “Why haven’t you done it yet?”
Hero suppressed a smile as she accompanied her father back down the stairs. What would she do without him? Somehow, he always managed to turn the darkest moments to light.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
For the second night in a row, Ian awoke in the dead of night. Not to a hand over his mouth this time, but to the subtle twist of the doorknob. Lying perfectly still, he watched the small crack widen and a body slip inside before the door closed softly. In the near darkness, the shadow approached, nearing the bed, and Ian prepared to pounce. Prepared to outwit and possibly identify his would-be murderer—a murderer who had thrice attempted to take his life that day.
An arm extended from the shadow, reaching out toward him, and he tensed, prepared to strike.
“Ian?”
“Hero? What are you doing in here?” Deflated by the surprise, he sat up then froze, wondering if his assumption that she would be safe at Cuilean even with protection had been erroneous after all. “Are you all right?”
Did someone try to hurt you? Are you injured?Ian bit back the more incendiary queries. If he asked, she would want to know what he meant by his questions, and if she latched onto even a hint of the truth, she’d never drop the subject until she had the whole of it. Instead he looked her over for injury, an effort of futility in the shadowy night.
“I’m fine.” She shifted hesitantly from foot to foot then made a more decisive move to sit on the edge of the bed. “I heard you finally came home and merely wanted to determine for myself that you were well. Where have you been?”
With a sigh of relief, Ian took her hand and kissed it before brushing his lips back and forth across it. She was unharmed and still unaware. In truth, he felt lucky that she hadn’t caught on to his suspicions already. He’d worked hard to keep them from her, but the incident with the saddles yesterday had nearly sent him over the top. “My apologies for worrying you, love. In truth, I had no intentions of being gone so long.”
“I didn’t know you intended to be gone at all,” she chided lightly, clearly inviting an explanation, but he refrained. If she fretted over his unexplained absence, how would she fuss if she knew a killer targeted him?
“I thought to deliver you a surprise well before dinner.” He caught a lock of her loose, wavy hair and twisted it around his finger. A diversionary tactic would be best to keep her from prodding tenaciously for the truth, and thankfully he did have that one to present.
“Surprise?” She asked again, “Where were you? Yesterday? Today?”
Her impatience was evident and even charming, but he had no intention of explaining it all. He bit back a grin, tucking an arm behind his head as he lay back against the pillows. “Don’t you like surprises?”
“Only when I’m part of the delivery.”
Reaching out, Ian ran a palm up her thigh. “Did you come in here to deliver me a surprise then?”
“What? No, of course not!” Despite her denial, she didn’t remove her knee from the bed and his pulse quickened.
“No?” He trailed his hand back down to her knee, parting the opening of her dressing gown. It wasn’t the blue silk gown she’d worn the other night. It was too dark to determine the color, but this one was brocade, with a high collar and belled sleeves. The deep V in the front showed she wasn’t wearing the high-necked nightgown he’d seen hint of before, either. The smooth skin below her collarbones shone in the moonlight that only just lightened the room. It was enough light for him to see her eyes widen and lock with his.
“You’re trying to distract me,” she said sternly, though he could feel her leg quiver slightly as his hand slid upward. “You cannot keep secrets from me if we’re to wed, Ian.”
No, but he would do just about anything to protect her, and he’d gone to do just that. In the morning a solution would be presented and a diversion introduced. The problem would disappear, and he could begin leading the life he wanted with Hero at his side. For the rest of the night, he need only stay alive, and that shouldn’t be difficult with the few hours remaining until dawn. Though his continued existence would have been better guaranteed with a locked door, he’d been curious to see if the villain in his house would dare such a direct approach a second time.
After the events of the past two days, Ian found he was ready for a confrontation. But if a fight wasn’t going to present itself at his door, he was keen on taking what did.
“And you shouldn’t have come into my bedchamber before we wed. Certainly not if you expected conversation.” He ran his hand up the inside of her thigh once more. Her muscles tensed and her breath grew ragged. Up his hand went until he could feel the heat radiating at her core. Through the barrier of her nightgown, he brushed his fingertips against her warmth. Chuckling as she pressed her thighs together, he removed his hand and instead took hers, guiding it to his bare chest. Her fingers curled as if she meant to draw away but then they spread hesitantly over his skin and moved in the slightest caress. It was his turn to tense as arousal seized and thickened.
Her gaze moved to his chest then back to his eyes, and Ian swore he could see a flicker of excitement there. “You don’t have on a nightshirt,” she said unnecessarily. Her fingers drifted across his chest, brushing over one flat nipple before they trailed down the ridges of his stomach to the point where the sheet covered him. Her hand lingered there, following the edge of the linen from side to side. His body clenched at the light contact, his arousal stirring beneath the sheet.
“I don’t own one,” he confessed, and her eyes, which had once again been drifting downward, shot back to his. The logical rebuttal was there in her eyes, and Hero visibly fought against voicing it, but Ian couldn’t battle his amusement. This confrontation was far more interesting than the one he had been anticipating that night. “Why don’t you come in here with me and find out what I am—or am not—wearing for yourself?”
