Pip sighed. “Back to the parlor, is it?”
And without another word he took Pip by the elbow and led her out of the kitchen. She walked alongside him with everyone watching them go. That did not increase her confidence.
The room was cold and lit only by the old fire in the fireplace. Pip couldn’t help wrapping her arms around herself as she turned to suffer his judgement. But just when she was opening her mouth to defend herself, Beau grabbed her to him, crushing her against his chest, his head over hers. He was trembling!
“Beau?”
“How do you always land yourself in the middle of a crisis?” he demanded, his voice rough.
Pip wrapped her arms around his back, still feeling completely upended. “I certainly did not go looking for trouble,” she said, resting her ear against Beau’s chest just to hear his heartbeat. His fast, frantic heartbeat.
“You never do,” he growled.
“It was the village,” she explained, not moving. Not wanting to move. “We could tell there was something wrong. How could we know that what was wrong was right under our honeymoon retreat?”
For the longest moment Beau didn’t say a word. He just enveloped her in his strength, his warmth. He just made her dream that he would always be there just like this if she needed him.
If only she could simply stay here and pretend everything would be all right.
She couldn’t. Not yet.
“There’s more,” she said. “There was a man down there who helped Robbie out. Said that Robbie shouldn’t tell anyone he was there. But he gave Robbie a message.”
Beau pulled back enough to look down at her.
“He said to tell Drake ‘north of the Royal Arsenal,” she said.
Beau frowned. “North of the Royal Arsenal? That’s it?”
Pip nodded.
Beau kept frowning. “In Woolwich? But that’s up by London. And north of Woolwich is the river.”
“Maybe they’re taking the guns up there,” Pip offered.
“But why?” Beau asked. “They already have guns.”
“Maybe Drake knows.”
He nodded again, his attention straying to that new puzzle.
“Tell me what you’ve done about the guns,” he said.
So, she did, everything but her moment of wishful thinking. Before he would have appreciated it. After all, this would have been just the kind of adventure Theo would have loved. But not now. Not anymore.
It hurt so much all over again, but she would need to wait for that.
“Do you want to see the door to the second cellar?” she asked. “Maybe you can figure a way to reinforce it.”
“In a minute.”
For just a moment, he just looked down at her, his brow furrowed. Pip held her breath, not sure of what she wanted to happen next.
And then, just as suddenly, he lifted her chin and kissed her. It wasn’t like the other kisses, incendiary, overwhelming. She didn’t lose her sense of where she was or what she was doing. But she could not pull away, even if she wanted to. Beau had one hand at her waist and the other at the nape of her neck, but comforting. Reassuring, although Pip wasn’t certain exactly which one of them he was reassuring.
All Pip knew was that in his arms, in this embrace, she felt safe and cherished and comforted. His mouth was so soft, so insistent, edging hers open so he could meet her tongue-to-tongue, as if just lips weren’t nearly close enough. She pulled him closer, flush against her so her breasts could abrade against his chest and her hips could seek the strength in his. So she could feel the unmistakable hunger in him, the heat and hard length of him, the urgency and relief. So, she could selfishly relish the hunger sparking to life in her own body, shoulder to toe.
“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” he rasped, pulling back enough to kiss the top of her head.
