“Catch you at what?” he asked, pulling his knees to his chest.
She smiled, but she wasn’t sure he could see her. He had put the lantern down when they sat. “Robbing, Investigator. Surely you know I am a thief.”
“Surelyyouknow that if you’re caught and convicted, you could hang.”
She didn’t know why but the thought of him caring so much made her bones melt a little. “You were paying attention at my father’s gathering.”
“How else would I know your fate?” he asked. “I don’t want you to get caught. I don’t want to be the one to catch you. I wish you would swear never to do it again.”
What if he found out that Gerald FitzSimmons had acted on her silent orders? That deVille escaped to Hayward House? Could she stop? Would Preston just let her go? No one had ever left him. What about Rosie and the others? Who was Michael Pendridge? No one truly knew. He was most assuredly soft in the head. Nevertheless, he was a lawman. The only one Croydon had at present. No. There was too much at stake. She wouldn’t abandon it all for a shadow.
“We shall see what the days bring, Michael.” It was all she would promise him.
“I will just have to keep watching over you then,” he answered on a low, husky voice.
“Is that what you are doing? Watchingoverme?” she asked wryly, “And why do you sound as if you are not enjoying yourself, when we both know you are.”
His eyes opened wider and shone like sapphires in the starlight. He had so mastered his emotions that, for a moment, she couldn’t tell if he was amused or angry.
“I am,” he gave in gruffly. “And so what? Your father asked me to watch you. I’m sure he meant watchoveryou.”
“I’m sure he did not mean the latter,” she corrected with an indulgent smile. “There is a difference between the two. My father asked you to spy on me, not to protect me.”
Silence reigned for a moment, then he shook his head and smiled. “I never met anyone like you before.”
“Is that a good thing?” She bumped her shoulder to his arm.
“Yeah. That’s a good thing.”
She was close, so she rested her head on his shoulder. He stiffened beneath her, but then warmed up to having her so close.
“Sleepy?” he asked quietly.
“Aye. Michael?”
“Yes?”
“What is a screen? You said people could see each other on a screen.”
He put his arm around her and pulled her closer. “Did anything I was saying make sense to you before?”
“A little,” she admitted, enjoying how his arm felt around her too much to move away.
“I forget how entirely different our times are,” he said.
She agreed though she couldn’t find her voice. His body was warm and hard as armor. She felt cared for under his arm and, oddly, it made her want to cry.
“What are the people like?” she asked, hoping to distract her thoughts.
“People will always remain the same, Charlotte. Whatever the era. Maybe in the twenty-first century crime and killing happen on a grander scale because of our technological advancements, but it’s the human heart that is so marred. It’s the anger, and the hatred, and the hardness that will destroy us.”
“You have met many sorry souls being an investigator,” she guessed by the deep cynicism in his tone.
“Yeah, and they all had one thing in common,” he told her.
They all broke your heart? she wanted to ask him.
“Crime,” he told her.
