“Those are my only two choices?” he asked.
“My family isunder siege. Grandpapa may be too proud to admit it, but he needs all the help he can get. I’ll not just wring my hands whilst our enemies come knocking.”
“I don’t imagine hand wringing is one of your talents.” His tone was grave, but the glint of humor in his gaze gave her hope. “Perhaps you would consider letting the men handle this?”
“Isn’t it obvious that theycannothandle this?” She listed off the facts on her fingers. “An assassination attempt was made on my grandfather. A bawdy house under his protection was blown to smithereens by hellfire. And, tonight, his home was attacked by the same vile means. We are atwar, Bennett.”
“Which is precisely why you should stay out of harm’s way.”
Why had she thought that he might be different from the rest? That he might see her as more than a nuisance, more than a girl who had nothing to offer?
Are you such a fool that you thought a few kisses would change anything?
“You’re not going to take my side.” She hated the quiver in her voice.
“I didn’t say that.”
Hope soared again, almost painful in its intensity. “Then…you’ll work with me?”
At his slow nod, she dashed over to him. Impulsively took one of his large, callused hands in both of hers. “Thank you.You don’t know how much that means to me. I’ll do anything—”
“That you will not. If you want my help, you’ll follow the rules.”
She dropped his hand. Frowned. “Rules?”
His gaze was brooding behind his spectacles. “Rule number one: you won’t go running around pell-mell. In fact, you won’t doanythingwithout my permission.”
“Yourpermission? Now see here—”
“Number two: when I tell you to do something, you do it. No questions asked.”
Her resolve to be pleasing dissolved in a flash of indignation. “Who in blazes do you think you are? I’ll not be dictated to!”
“I’m the man you need to protect your family. The family you’d do anything for.”
At Bennett’s blunt words, her arguments fizzled. Looking at him, seeing his physical strength, the intelligence gleaming in those eyes, she knew he was right.
She couldn’t go at this alone; she needed his help.
“Dash it all,” she muttered. “I can’t decide.”
His brows lifted.
“I don’t know whether I’m annoyed at your high-handedness,”—she huffed out a breath—“or relieved that you’ll help.”
His lips twitched, softening the lines on his face. “And for the last rule.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t push your luck.”
“If we are to be partners in this venture, then no one else is to know of our plans.” He paused. “Not your family, not your friends at The Underworld, no one.”
The word “partner” made her heart pitter-patter like that of a debutante asked to dance. He was willing to take her side, even against the wishes of her powerful family.
He believed in her quest, inher.
“On everything I hold dear, I vow not to tell a soul.” Wanting him to know how much his trust meant, she said earnestly, “Would you like me to take a blood oath? I could get a penknife.”
He stared. Then he burst out laughing, and that sound—rich, a bit rusty from disuse, and utterly masculine—was worth waiting for.
