“You would not understand,” she whispered, then sniffled.
He studied her face carefully, emotions churning inside him.
“Tell me anyway,” he insisted.
He let the kerchief fall from his hand and stroked the last of her tears from her cheek with his thumb. Fire traced through his veins as, for the briefest of moments, he felt Bridget nuzzle into his touch. Then he looked down, fascinated, and noticed how enticingly tight her soaked dress clung to her delicious figure. His mouth watered at the sight, and though they were soaked to the bone and chilled, a sudden heat filled the small space. Adrian leaned closer, imagining what it would be like to replace his hand with his lips.
Would she let me…
Then, as if Bridget could read his thoughts, her cheeks flushed, and she sat up, pulling away from his touch.
Adrian cleared his throat, realizing what he had just done, and clenched his hands into fists as he took the seat opposite her.
“Is there an affinity you have for brooches?” he asked, hoping to break the sudden tension. “If so, I am sure my sister can find you a much better place to purchase them.”
To his relief, Bridget let out a laugh, and he could not help but smile.
“No,” she said through her laughter, holding the brooch up to her view once again. “Just this particular one. It has… sentimental value, you see. And I thought it was lost forever.”
She stroked it lovingly.
“You have no idea what it means to me to have it back,” she sighed.
A pang of longing hit Adrian hard in the chest, and he wished that she were wrong. He would give anything to get his brother back. With the longing came a sudden bout of rage, knowing that he was no closer to finding the man who murdered Evander. He needed to stop focusing on Bridget and her woes. More importantly, he needed to start ignoring the growing urge to be close to her. It was good that they were heading back to London. They needed to part.
You should have found him by now,a merciless voice whispered in the back of his mind.You should have brought him to justice. Instead, you chase shadows and allow yourself to be distracted, just as you always were.
His jaw tightened as the old guilt settled heavily in his chest, the sense that no matter how hard he pushed, no matter how many doors he kicked open, he would never quite live up to the name his brother had left behind.
Yet as he had the thought, the carriage suddenly lurched, and the momentum had him flying out of his seat and toward Bridget. His heartbeat raced as his hands caught the back of her seat, and fire once more rushed through his veins as his lips stopped a mere breath away from hers.
For a moment, they stayed that way. Their eyes locked, lips parted. Breaths coming out in soft bursts so close they could feel each other.
Then the carriage door was flung open.
Adrian wrenched his head to the side, still bracing himself against the back of Bridget’s seat, and glared at his driver.
“What in the devil was that?” he demanded.
“It is the storm, Your Grace,” his driver shouted through the heavy rain. “It has washed out the road! There is no way we can continue in these conditions! We need to find shelter somewhere.”
Chapter 13
“My, what a fright you two are,” the innkeeper chuckled as Bridget and Adrian stepped inside.
Beneath her cloak, Bridget shivered, the cold damp seeping through the fabric and into her bones. Her teeth began to chatter, and by her side, she watched Adrian throw the innkeeper a glare. Only a moment ago, he had been so close, his lips just a mere breath away from her own, and she thought… she thought…
“We need a couple of rooms,” Adrian commanded, breaking her from her thoughts.
“Missus is cleaning the rooms and will not be finished for a while yet,” the innkeeper replied, coming around the bar between them that was lined with customers. “But I have a free table by the fire if ye want it, and if ye have the coin, some nice stew as well. Warm ye from the inside out, it will.”
“We will take it,” Adrian stated, dropping a few coins into the man’s hands.
“Follow me,” the innkeeper replied, tightening his fist around the coins.
Bridget flushed as every man’s head turned to look at her hungrily as they were shown through the tavern. She shrank in on herself, holding the edges of her soaked cloak tightly together, and bumped into Adrian’s back when they reached their table.
Adrian turned to her with an arched brow, but when he lifted his gaze above her head, his brow line furrowed with a look of annoyance, and to her surprise, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. The touch felt safe, protective even, and though she knew she should protest, she huddled under it and let him pull her into his side.
