“Most people don’t unless they’re soldiers.” Hannah also watched the munition carefully. Eoin wondered if she felt like he did: that if he looked away for a moment, it would spontaneously reignite and explode.
“How did you recognize it so readily?” Eoin asked, as his normal good sense began to return.
“I saw them on my aunt’s island in the Caribbean when I visited her stronghold as a child,” Hannah explained. “Forty years ago, they were frequently used by pirates. She still has afew for when she boards ships to free slaves, child prisoners, or sailors impressed by force into the Royal Navy.”
“Do—do you think it could have killed us?” Eoin’s voice audibly shook, but he didn’t care. Someone had clearly tried to murder him. Although he wasn’t precisely a beloved member of Society, he wasn’t that hated either.
“Yes, if shrapnel hit a vital organ or if we were standing too close and lost too much blood from our injuries,” Hannah said. “The curtains catching on fire would have been another danger.”
Eoin wobbled back and landed on the edge of the bed. He could hear the draperies tearing, but he didn’t care.
“Thank you.” He gazed up at Hannah in wonder. “Thank you for saving me. I never—I never would have reacted so quickly. You are truly a marvel.”
Chapter Nine
Hannah’s heart was reacting in the most curious way. Aye, she was accustomed to the tug of physical attraction. She’d even indulged in the pull from time to time. One of those relationships had even lasted a year when she’d been seventeen. He’d been a sweet boy, but they hadn’t been a perfect fit, and in the end, they’d parted ways.
But she’d never experienced this fiery, almost painful force. Eoin’s teal eyes were filled with an undeniable admiration as he gazed up at her. His shoulders were slumped, and she could see him fighting back the shivers that were threatening to erupt all over his body. He was vulnerable right now—this huge, fearsome-looking man. Someone had very obviously tried to kill him in a horrific manner. By all rights, he should be erecting every defense that he possessed. He was indubitably capable of stoicism. But he was choosing to remain open to her—to let her witness his emotions, even his need for her.
Cautiously, Hannah laid her hand on his shoulder. When he didn’t shake her off, she gently squeezed. It was either that or gather him close—and she wasn’t sure if either of them was ready for that.
“I simply recognized what the device was. I am sure you would have reacted the same had you seen one before.” Hannah’s statement felt weak even to her own ears. It was soperfunctory with no emotion, no feeling. Yet he had called her the brave one.
Hannah, too, felt on edge. Facing death did that. She wasn’t sanguine about the fact that she’d just carried a deadly device in her bare hands.
“I am trying to be logical about this attack, but my mind is just too cluttered,” Eoin confessed. “I don’t know how you’re standing.”
“I’ve locked my knees,” Hannah admitted. Somehow that honest admission seemed harder than seizing the small bomb. Eoin was supposed to be the enemy—her enemy—but here she was admitting weakness.
Eoin huffed out a rough chuckle. “It is no wonder.” Then he patted the mattress. “You should sit too.”
That was a bad idea, sharing a bed—even innocuously—with a man who looked like Eoin. But try as she might, Hannah couldn’t muster the volition to walk over to the chairs.
She flopped down beside Eoin with more devil-may-care confidence than she actually possessed. It was a strategic mistake. She slid, quite emphatically, against Eoin. When her thigh squashed into his muscular one, she was acutely reminded that she was not wearing her usual layers. There were no petticoats to provide a buffer. Only two thin sheets of linen separated their skin.
Hannah was a strong woman. She was accustomed to hefting trays of coffee, mopping floors, hoisting bags of beans, and then grinding them into powder. She had biceps that she was proud of—after all, she’d earned them. Yet pressed against Eoin’s massive frame, she felt… delicate, not fragile but delicate. And that sensation thrilled her in an elemental way.
What had happened to her good sense?
“I suppose I should try to decipher who is trying to kill me.” Eoin’s voice sounded somber—and not in his usual stoic way. There was a sadness to his tone that caused an echoing pang of sorrow in Hannah’s own heart.
“The most likely candidates would be my uncles,” Eoin continued. “My Uncle Hugh has the most to win upon my demise as he is my heir presumptive. But Francis would likely throw in his lot with his brother. The two rarely do anything alone.”
How devastating must it be to consider that your own family members wished to kill you? Hannah’s maternal side had utterly rejected her, but they hadn’t plotted to murder her. And she’d never known them. But Eoin had been raised in the same household as his uncles.
Hannah leaned a little closer to him. She wished she could dismiss his theory for his sake, but she couldn’t deny its truth. And false hope wasn’t just empty in this scenario but deadly as well.
“They could very well be the culprits, but it speaks to their villainy and not to your worth.” Hannah could not believe that she was supporting the grandson of her familial enemy, but she realized how accurate her words were.
Eoin rubbed his hands over his face, and Hannah sensed a deep weariness welling up inside him. “I have oft wondered about my own measure. Since the age of six, my grandfather groomed me into the lord he wished me to be. But now that I have obtained the position, I am unsure of my role.”
The stark honesty of Eoin’s confession startled Hannah. She had never thought of a duke having doubts—although she supposed Alexander had plenty of them. But then, she’d never really thought of her cousin as a nobleman. He’d always just been Alexander.
And now she was starting to see Foxglen, not as his title, but as Eoin. And that… that was dangerous indeed.
“You are a newly minted duke,” Hannah said, “and your first thought was to locate your mother and sister to ensure that they were living good lives. Your second has been to scour the account books to determine what funds are available to reinvest in improvements for your tenant farmers. I believe you have the makings of a fine gentleman, and I’m not given to complimenting nobs.”
Eoin’s fingers slid from his cheeks, and he shot her a shy grin, which immediately set her heart a pumping. Dash it all. This was not in her plans.
