“You are touching me.”
Her hand froze. Heat rushed to her cheeks.
“Should I not touch you?”
He exhaled slowly, lashes sweeping down as his eyes closed again.
“You may do as you please,” he said softly.
And when his eyes opened once more, they were different. Darker. Heavier. Not sleepy anymore, not teasing. Something else entirely.
And he was closer.Or perhaps she was.It didn’t matter.
His mouth is right there. Would it be warm? Gentle? Would he kiss me slowly or all at once?
Her heart pounded. She could barely hear anything over it.
His hand lifted—just the faintest movement, as though he might reach for her cheek. He didn’t. But he could. And she would let him.
This is dangerous. This is foolish. This is...
“I… I ought to dress,” she stammered. “Miss Evans will be in, and it would be terribly improper?—”
She rose too fast, stumbled back a step, caught herself, and without daring to look at him again, fled the room.
Her pulse was still racing by the time she closed the door behind her.
I nearly kissed him. I wanted to kiss him. I still do.
Theo walked into the Bow Street Runners’ station, the scent of stale tobacco and ink hitting his senses. The officer who had visited him the night before rose from behind the desk and inclined his head.
“Your Grace.”
“Good morning. Where is he?”
“This way, if you please.”
Theo followed the man through a narrow hallway and into a stark chamber with a single table, a pair of chairs, and a man bound securely with his hands behind him. The man looked up, a smirk tugging at his lips despite the situation.
“Who are you?” Theo asked as he stood in front of him.
“Name’s Adam Smith. Though most call me Knave.”
“What do you know of Michael Linwood?”
Knave snorted. “Haven’t heard that name in a while. When I was just a lad, Linwood paid me to set fire to a warehouse near the Thames. Said he needed the magistrate distracted.”
“Why?”
“He was smuggling.”
Theo’s gaze sharpened. “What was he smuggling?”
“Goods from France. Silk. Brandy. Weapons, maybe. He was careful about specifics.”
“What did he look like?”
Knave leaned back. “It was long ago. Hard to say. But I remember one thing. He had a limp. Walked with a cane.”
