Though the light in the room was dim, he knew she was blushing. She looked away to hide her confusion, but he had seen it in her expression. Whether Alice or Alfie, she did not know what to make of him. He could hardly blame her, he didn’t know whether he was coming or going, didn’t know what he was feeling, other than that the kiss they had shared had not been nearly enough. He wanted more, a great deal more.
Aubrey moved closer as she pushed open the chest and reached down, holding it open for her as she rummaged through.
“There’s a small wooden box on the right there. Yes, that’s it.”
Her nimble fingers sought and found the box and opened it, and he felt as much as heard her sigh as she saw the glittering diamonds revealed.
Aubrey smiled, feeling a surge of regret that he’d taken it from her. Perhaps he could buy her something like it, something as rare and lovely as she was. The certain knowledge that she would not allow such a thing, that her pride would revolt if he tried, was testament to his having learned something about her, he thought ruefully.
“Here,” she said, closing the box and handing it to him.
“Now what?” he asked, wondering what she saw in his eyes, for he had some interesting ideas of his own.
She glanced at him and away again. “I suppose you may as well put it back. This was only an exercise after all. I made my point.”
“Which is?”
Her cool grey eyes met his, implacable. “That you are entirely unsuited to help me with the robbery.”
Aubrey threw the box back into the chest where it landed silently on a colourful pink silk waistcoat his sister had bought him for Christmas, but even he would not have considered wearing in public.
She closed the chest silently, and he wondered how deeply she regretted leaving the brooch behind. The crackle of the fire made the moment feel far safer and more intimate than it ought and he reminded himself of precisely what they were doing and why, knowing he would have to work hard to get her trust him.
He watched as she locked the chest once more, noting that her hands were not quite as steady as they had been.
“I don’t agree.”
She got to her feet, looking anywhere but at him now, her shoulders lifting in a careless shrug. “I don’t care.”
“Oh, I think you care,” Aubrey said, a taunt in his voice that made her turn sharply back to him. He took a step closer, hearing her breath hitch as he did so. Pausing, he gave her the chance to step back, to say no, but she didn’t. Instead, she stood stock still, gazing at him with an expression of mingled terror and curiosity.
Aubrey hesitated, recognising the curiosity but not liking the terror. “Are you afraid of me?”
He expected a scoffing sound, an expression of bravado, but she only swallowed.
“Areyou?”
“N-Not precisely,” she managed.
“You know I wouldn’t hurt you, though?” he asked, needing to assure himself on that point at least.
“Not purposely.”
Ah.
“Not carelessly, either,” he said, keeping his voice soft, reassuring.
She snorted at that. “We are from different planets. There’s no other way for this to go other than someone getting hurt. We’d be best served by sorting out the little issue of the diamonds and Silas Mourney, and then, supposing we both survive—which is by no means certain—we go our separate ways.”
Everything inside Aubrey rebelled at her words, making him want to demand she take them back, but he forced himself not to react. “Is that what you want?”
She smiled at that, a wry, weary expression that ought only to be seen on someone far older and far more cynical. “What I want?” she repeated, the words dripping sarcasm. “Like I said, we are from different planets, you and I.”
“Then move to mine,” he said, reaching out a hand towards her.
Alfie stared at it for a long moment, considering. Aubrey held his breath until she walked towards him, noting how differently she moved, seeing Alfie and Alice melding together as one person before his very eyes. Curiosity shone in those grey eyes, waiting for what he might do next.
Aubrey reached out a tentative hand, stroking the soft skin of her cheek and feeling strangely out of his depth. “I’ve spent much of the time I have known you wanting to wring your blasted neck.”
