There was that familiar smirk, both charming and maddening. Then he shrugged. “I’ll take care of it.”
“That’s not an answer,” she said. He was very adept at doing that.
He didn’t reply right away, searching her expression before seemingly coming to a decision of some sort. “I… have someleverage. But please, just promise me you won’t say anything to him yourself. I’m…” But then he trailed off.
“You’re what?”
“I’m concerned about you.” He spoke haltingly, and she got the feeling he didn’t want to admit it.
“But why?” she pressed. Because he cared about her? But he was shaking his head again.
He leaned out the window, glancing up and down the street, as though he expected someone to be listening to their conversation.
“Because,” he finally answered, “I think you might know something that could put you in danger.”
“Danger?” She frowned. “From whom?” One minute they were discussing their relationship, and then the next, she was in danger? For what possible reason?
“I can’t say,” he answered. “But this is serious. Be careful of who you trust, who you speak to. Especially if you saw something—or someone—at the hunting lodge.”
Her heart dropped.
Why, oh why, did everything lead her back to that night at the hunting lodge?
She could feel her chest tighten and dreaded the thought that her voice might fail her again. “I’ve already told you—I don’t remember. I don’t know anything.”
“Shhh, it’s alright.”Malum held out one hand. The last thing he wanted was for her to shut down. Not with him. “I believe you. I’m… probably worrying over nothing.” But he knew he wasn’t.
The street was eerily quiet. Even so, they ought to be having this conversation somewhere private. Unfortunately, Standish would have a conniption if he discovered Malum had made his way into her chambers at this ungodly hour.
He glanced at the trellis, wishing it was even close to being sturdy enough to hold his weight, at the same time thinking it was best that it wasn’t.
“I just want…” She faltered, and Malum waited. This woman—she had him all twisted up inside.
“What do you want, sweetheart?”
“I feel like I’m… in the dark. I’m just so tired of being in the dark.”
Malum rested his forearms on the windowsill. “What are you in the dark about?” He’d shed some light for her, if he could. The thought came unbidden that he’d move the sun and earth for her.
She licked those lovely lips, and even from across the street, Malum was viscerally aware of the little gesture. Because he’d tasted those lips. And, God help him, he wanted more.
Greedy bastard.
“I—there’s just so much I don’t know—about the fire, about my father.” She looked up at the stars, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “About you.”
And then her gaze dropped and met his. “About…us.”
Us.
A chilly breeze swept in, carrying that single word straight to him, a piercing arrow, a flying bullet. He welcomed it—treasured it, even, but couldn’t accept.
Us.
Malum was accustomed to having answers, to knowing how to handle anything that came his way. But this was different.
She deserved to know everything, and yet, the more she knew, the greater the danger. And this bloody public engagement had only made it worse.
It placed her in a dangerous position—in the center of his life. And that, well, that was probably the most selfish, careless decision he’d ever made.
