Daniel just looked at her.
She shrugged. “I’m letting you live because I expect you back here tomorrow morning. New day, new assignment. Understood?”
“Where is she?” he asked.
Mrs. Kew sighed. “It’s my fault. I decided you ought to be assessed after working so long undercover with O’Riley, but I failed to appreciate the depths of your emotional vulnerability. I’ve seen the reports of how you reacted when you thought Agent A was in danger. We simply cannot risk a weapon like yourself misfiring in such ways. It will be desk work for you for a while, young man! Just until we have you back in proper condition.”
“Is she safe?” he persisted, although he dreaded the possible answer. A.U.N.T. was not above pruning anyone who grew the wrong way.
“Tsk,”Mrs. Kew said. “The mission is over. Agent A is gone. Tomorrow I want your heart where it belongs—on the Scottish rumors file I’ll be giving you.”
He said nothing, staring unblinkingly past her shoulder at the untidy shapes of the city.
Mrs. Kew beamed. “There, I was sure you’d be reasonable after all. You’re my star! Get some rest, then back here nice and early! We have a laird to save from blackmail.”
Daniel took a step to leave—
“Wait!” Mrs. Kew cried.
He stopped.
“Dear boy. Please.” She held out a soft, beckoning hand, and Daniel looked at it sidelong.
“Give the ring back.”
She spoke like a sniper with a gun aimed at him—unflinching, and entirely capable of wiping him out. Without a word, he yanked the fake wedding ring from his finger and dropped it into her palm.
“Excellent!” she chirped, bouncing a little on her heels. “Now, what is your plan for the rest of the day?”
“Ma’am,” he said, “I’m going home.”
And before she could smile at him again, he turned and walked away.
It was almost night by the time he stopped. Rain was beginning to shiver through the afterlight, dampening his shirt, chilling him. He did not notice. Standing before a familiar mahogany door, he stared at the gold crucifix bolted to its center panel. His heart sighed, hugging itself, whispering prayers as if they were old, wild poetry. But his brain remained grim and silent.
He ought to knock. Just knock, and it would be done.For everyone who asks receives, and he who seeks finds, and to him who knocks it will be opened. But he was too exhausted to be brave.
Knock. On. The. Bloody. Door.
He lifted a hand, lowered it again. Perhaps he should just leave, go somewhere else, pretend—
The door opened.
Daniel stared at the woman on the other side of the threshold. She was radiant, and not only due to the light from a nearby streetlamp slanting over her rich, bright hair. Holy love seemed to illuminate her from within. Daniel’s pulse beat so hard in his wrists, it hurt.
And then a sudden wash of greenish pallor crossed her face. She held up a finger, and Daniel stopped breathing—waiting, although for what, he did not know. Her throat heaved, and she clamped a hand over her mouth, eyes growing wide. With an urgent, muted sound, she rushed back inside.
“Huh,” Daniel said blankly. “I was not sure of the reception I’d receive, but I did not expect to sicken anyone.”
Alex O’Riley appeared; leaning against the doorframe, he grinned. “Don’t mind Lottie, she’s suffering from what she calls ‘a temporary indisposition.’ ”
“But she looks well,” Daniel said. “Indeed, I have never seen her so—”
“Frightening?” Alex suggested.
Daniel gave him a reproachful look. “Glowing.”
Alex shrugged carelessly, but his eyes bore an unusual sheen of emotion. “That happens, apparently. The problem is, so does nausea, increased sensitivity to everything—and I meaneverything—and an unprecedented desire for foot massages. Not to mention the foul temper. Thank God Jane tried to assassinate Cecilia when she did, or else Lottie might just have tried assassinating the entire Wisteria Society. She refused to give up on finding that bloody weapon, but secret passageways and stolen bedrooms arenotideal places for a woman in her condition.”
