The journey through some of England’s most beautiful countryside was surprisingly unremarkable. Especially considering Grey was reasonably sure the train held a witch. Who was also a compelling individual with hidden depths he desperately wished to explore. It was a marvel to encounter a woman with no desire to be courted, no wish for a husband or family, but who was clearly attracted to him. Even if she hated him in equal measure.
Might that grant Thomas the freedom to pursue her without fear of making promises he could never keep? Was he living up to her bird’s assessment?
Am I becoming a bastard? Not if she wants what I have to offer. If I am clear about what I can and can’t give and she makes her choice, I will respect whatever she decides.
She might not want a future with him – indeed, it was betterthat she did not, as he had no future to offer – but she could not deny the desire simmering between them.
Sparks fly when our hands brush. The curtain in my carriage was singed from our kisses. Even an argument between us creates enough heat to transform rain into steam. What might happen if more of our skin came into contact?
It was a highly inappropriate and arousing thought. Followed quickly by…
What might happen if she let go of her control?
Thankfully, Clio had moved away from him. She refused to spare Thomas a single glance for the entire train ride, and he was glad of it. If she had, it would have been impossible to behave like his entire body wasn’t attuned to her.
She plucked at the tightened strings around his chest, causing a residual vibration to thrum through his body. That alone seemed like witchcraft, without considering the literal sparks flying between them.
But how does one prove a woman is magical? And what would such a discovery mean?
He had no answers. She believed embracing the unknown brought greater understanding. Might it also bring a tortured soul some measure of peace? It wasn’t fair to seek out her secrets without also revealing his own. Thomas was many terrible things, but he had always striven to be fair.
If I uncover her truths and never reveal my own, then I am a bastard.
The last thing he wished was for harm to befall Clio Blair. Perhaps she was right. Mayhap Thomas should accept the mystery of her without delving any deeper into her shadowy corners. But the question would not stop spinning in his mind like a mad whirling dervish. Was she truly a witch?
He certainly wasn’t going to tie her up and throw her in a river to find out. Nor would he prick her skin to determine if she bled.Those barbaric methods were nothing more than ways to torture women and call it a holy war. While he relished fighting with Clio, he had no wish to defeat her in that kind of battle.
But his suspicions had been aroused. His need to uncover Clio’s secrets burned far more brightly than his desire to solve this case. Which was a problem. A man had been murdered. That should be his only focus. But he couldn’t stop his thoughts from returning to the enigmatic woman carelessly sipping tea and chatting with his sister while her raven hopped around the carriage, no doubt muttering insults directed at Thomas.
More troubling than how to determine if she was a witch was what to do if his suspicions were true. He was a man of logic, but he had experienced things with Clio he could not explain. Perhaps that was the problem. She was right. Men feared what they did not understand. Was she right about everything else?
Thomas believed in justice. Protecting the innocent. Finding those who harmed others and stopping them. While Clio Blair might be many things, she was not corrupt. Nor did she threaten the innocent or harm others. Indeed. In every interaction he had with her, she sought truth. She was stubborn, quick to leap into danger for a just cause, and uncompromising in her beliefs. In a man, those were worthy traits. Why was it any different for a woman?
Or a witch?
If she truly was magical, maybe the way forward would be to accept her abilities instead of assuming her power might strip him of his own. But she would never trust him enough to let him try. The risk was too great.
A rogue thought took hold.
Instead of hunting down her secrets, maybe he could convince her to reveal herself. She showed her power every time he drew close to her. He could feel her heat, see sparks, watch whatevermight burn around him flare in unison with her emotions. What if he found ways to touch more of her? To draw closer? To provoke those emotions when they were the only two people in a room? What might she reveal to him in the sanctity of those moments? Could he earn her trust? Was he worthy of it? It had been so long since he felt worthy of anything.
Courting Clio Blair was out of the question and something neither of them wanted. But seducing her, easing her out of the shadows and into the light… that might be a challenge worth facing.
Thomas spent the remainder of the journey creating a plan to woo a witch.
11
When the train steamed into the station and their small group departed, Lady Langley didn’t just send a carriage for them; she met them at the station in all her glory. Her hair was piled in an extravagant arrangement, highlighting the pure white strands she was famous for popularising among her set. She wore dark shades of mourning, but it was impossible to miss the crimson underskirt peeking from layers of ebony silk and lace. The colour matched the rubies dripping from her wrists and ears. While the duchess was entering into her fifth decade, she still had a youthful figure with a waist cinched so tight, Grey cringed as Lady Langley swept across the platform towards them.
She pulled Cynthia into a tight hug, hardly decorous, but when one was as wealthy and well-titled as Lady Langley, one did as they wished. Her loud exclamations drew the eye of every traveller exiting the steaming train.
‘Oh, my dearest Cynthia! Thank goodness you have finally arrived! You have no idea how trying this time has been for me!’ Every word from her mouth was an exclamation, and Thomasnoticed his shoulders tighten as she became more shrill. ‘Arthur getting himself murdered with no consideration at all for my nerves. And poor Anna. The lost little lamb. She spends all day in the nursery in tears. The sound of crying is so distressing. I haven’t been past the third floor since we arrived.’
Before Cynthia could offer any words of condolence, the duchess turned to Grey.
Her voice lowered into a throaty purr as the tears retreated and something far more predatory emerged. ‘You grow more handsome by the day, Lieutenant General Grey. You’ll have an old lady like me swooning before we even exit the station.’ She tilted her head so the waning sunlight caught her in a yellow beam as she batted her charcoal-stained lashes coquettishly.
Alarm winged through him, and he took a half-step back. He had never considered himself prey; however, it was apparent who the apex predator was as Lady Langley swiftly moved him into her crosshairs. He needed an escape. ‘You flatter me, Your Grace.’
