“You think whoever shot at me is driven to chase me across London? Could someone hate me so much?” She drew an unsteady breath. “Could I be the reason three men are dead? Truly?”
He pursed his lips. She’d asked the same question back at Marcus’s home a few hours before. He knew his harsh tone when he responded had stung her. It seemed he was being offered an opportunity to make up for that.
He moved from the bed, stepping toward her and closing the distance with just one long movement. He leaned down and his hand came out almost against his will, tracing her cheek gently. Her breath caught, just as it had when Marcus took her hand, and he reveled in how her pupils dilated for him, as they had for his friend.
“Listen to me, Naomi,” he said. “I realize you cared for those men, that you feel guilty at this new idea that the killer could have been pursuing you.” Her shudder was all the answer he needed. He continued softly, “But whatever happened to your husbands, it isnotyour fault. If someone killed them to get to you, that is only the killer’s doing, not yours. You are not responsible for anyone else’s bad acts.”
Her relief was palpable as she sagged against his hand. “Thank you,” she whispered.
His fingers curled against her skin and she let out a shuddering sigh. One that called to him in ways he could hardly stand. He leaned in slowly, watching as her eyes widened and her lips parted. She wet them, and he was almost unmanned right then and there.
He was going to kiss this woman, mourning gown and investigation be damned. He was going to kiss her until she lifted against him and moaned his name.
But before he could brush his lips to hers, the door to the room opened and Marcus stepped inside. Naomi let out a tiny sound and bolted to her feet, racing past Everett to the window, where she stared out, her shoulders shaking.
Everett stood and walked to Marcus. His friend lifted both his brows and Everett shrugged in response. They both knew what was happening here. They both knew what they wanted. What would happen in regards to that want was something else entirely.
“I came up the back stair as soon as everything was situated,” Marcus said, glancing toward Naomi. “It’s late—I could ask for some supper to be sent up.”
She pivoted and her gaze flitted over them. She shook her head. “It’s been a long day. I’m very tired. I think I’ll just…I’ll just sleep.”
Marcus nodded and cast a glance toward Everett. “Do you want the first watch?”
Everett let out his breath. Marcus could obviously see the outline of the erection that was in no way hidden beneath his trousers. He supposed his partner was trying to make things a bit easier considering the sleeping arrangements.
“Very well,” he said.
Marcus walked past him and motioned to a small privacy screen in the corner of the room. “You may remove your gown there, Naomi. I will sleep on the bed beside you, above the coverlet.”
She jolted and stared at the bed. It seemed very small when Everett considered Marcus and Naomi lying there. Unless they were right on top of each other, an image that didn’t help the erection one bit. If anything, it excited him all the more.
Her shoulders rolled forward. “Very well,” she said, and walked to the screen to change. Everett lolled his head back, stretching his neck.
It was going to be a long night. One that didn’t promise any relief from the desire he hadn’t expected, though that didn’t mean the feeling was unwanted.
Naomi slid beneath the covers, feeling naked even though her chemise covered her somewhat and the blankets even more. It was just that she’d never spent a night with two men in her room before. Certainly not two very handsome, very virile men whose glances in her direction didn’t exactly speak of chaste protection.
They looked like they each wanted to eat her alive. And she was not opposed to the idea either.
But that wasn’t going to happen. She pulled the covers up to her neck and lay there as she watched Marcus divest himself of his jacket, and then he started to unbutton his shirt. Oh God, was he going to take off his clothes? She found herself straightening, lifting her head to see. He unlooped his cravat and then removed his boots before he tugged the shirt over his head.
She could hardly contain her murmur of approval. The man was built like a workhorse. Thickly muscled, hard as steel, meant to be touched. But she would not touch him. Would not. Could not.
She squeezed her eyes shut as he lay down on top of the coverlet, depressing the mattress and making her roll slightly toward him as he settled in. Now she could smell him. Smoky, minty, just something good. She could feel her sex tingling, and she clenched her legs together to make it stop. It didn’t.
“Are you comfortable?” he asked, rolling to face her on the pillows. Close enough to lick.
She nodded. “As much as can be expected under the circumstances.”
“Try to sleep,” he soothed. “It will be better in the morning.”
“If you say so.”
She shut her eyes again and tried to count her breaths. In and out, over and over. Only as her body relaxed slowly, her mind took over. And this time she wasn’t thinking about Marcus and his touch or the fact that Everett had nearly kissed her.
Instead, her mind flashed an image of the window exploding next to her head as a shot rang out. Of the feeling of sliding across the ground as Marcus’s body hit her and covered her for protection.
She jolted, her eyes coming open as she let out a tiny sound. Marcus was still awake, of course. And he was watching her.
