At her door, he stopped to listen. He couldn’t hear much at first, but a faint muffling finally reached his ears, that sounded mysteriously like sobbing…
* * *
Lyra had never been so angry. In fact, she was so incensed that she was crying from the sheer force of it. In all the years she had been married to Roger, enduring the humiliation of his affairs and the abuse, had she ever felt such a boiling rage welling up within her? It was like a poison, threatening to break her apart.
She’d paced her room for the better part of an hour, finding that she was too restless to sit still. The more she thought of Alister, the more furious she became. With a snort, she thought of a play she’d seen long ago written by William Congreve called, “The Mourning Bride.”In one particular act, there was a quote, “Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.”
Perhaps there was something to that after all.
“Hello, Lyra.”
With a gasp, Lyra spun around to see the object of her frustration standing in the doorway of her bedroom. She had no idea how Alister had managed to enter without her knowledge, but she hastily wiped at the wet tracks on her face. A burst of pain instantly erupted in her chest at the sight of him. As her earlier rage returned with a vengeance, she looked around and grabbed the first thing that she could find. The vase crashed against the wall mere inches from where he stood. “I trusted you, and all this time you wereusingme?”
She thought she saw him flinch. When he hesitated to proceed further into the room, she took that as his willingness to listen.
“Howdareyou waltz in here as if nothing is wrong when quite the opposite is true.” She ticked his indiscretions off on her fingers. “You promised me that you would be back. That was two days ago! Does your word count for so little? I have been out of my head with worry that something terrible had happened, when instead you had merely chosen to end our association without consulting me.”
“Lyra, if you would just allow me a chance—”
“Then,” she cut in. “I have to hear, from my sister-in-law, that you were only here under false pretenses, that your sacrifice to act as my warden had nothing to do with me andeverythingto do with the fact that you were working for the Home Office and believed I might actually be capable of something as horrific as treason!”
“If you’d let me explain—”
“AndIwant you to leave my house before I send for a footman to throw you out.” She frowned. “How didyou get in here anyway?”
“I picked the lock.” He firmly shut her bedroom door and dared to bolt it. “And I’mnotleaving until you listen what I’ve come here to say.”
Lyra blinked. She’d never heard such a commanding tone from Alister before. His entire stance was one of power and determination. If she hadn’t been so angry with him, she might have been in awe of such a raw display of masculinity.
Nevertheless, she glanced around for something else to throw at him, but she never got the chance. He was before her in three strides and effectively pinned her arms behind her back. She glared at him, and he glared right back.
“Yes, I admit I used your unfortunate predicament to gain access to Weston House,” he growled. “But it was in the service of Crown and country. Would I do it again? The answer is yes every time, because that is myjob.I could have merely gained entrance by requesting a warrant and leaving you in the Tower, but I didn’t.”
“I don’t see why not,” she returned sourly. “It’s not as if you trulycared—”
“The hell if I didn’t! I hated seeing you there. It only reminded me of how I’d failed—” He broke off abruptly, as if he had revealed more than he’d intended. Releasing her, he went over to the window and put his hands on his hips.
Lyra rubbed her arms, feeling suddenly bereft without his nearness. She realized then that her anger didn’t have anything to do with his lies or treachery but rather the pain of his desertion. She wasn’t sure what he referred to when he spoke of his failures, but she could certainly understand the tortured, bruised soul that had been strong for too long.
“I don’t need rescuing.”
“Everyone needs rescuing at some point.”
Their long-ago conversations from the library came back to haunt her. Was that why he’d returned? To rescue her? Or to be rescued himself?
“Why are you here now, Alister?” she asked softly.
“I came back because—” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I can see now that it was a mistake. I’ll leave.”
He was almost to the door before she found her voice. “Wait.”
He paused, but he didn’t turn to face her.
Lyra bit her lower lip. It was obvious by the rigid way he held himself that strong emotions were passing through him.
In a sort of hypnotic trance, as if his very presence drew her to his side, Lyra slowly reached out and placed her hands on his broad shoulders. Even through all the layers of his clothes, she felt his sharp intake of breath.
When Alister spoke, his voice was harsh. “What is it?”
