Chapter Twenty-Six
Declan led Helena down the corridor, up a set of stairs, and through a door that led to the alley beside the house.
“What now?” he asked, collapsing against the bricks. “Knightly Snow is smarter than she looks but she is hardly reliable. Anything could happen. What is our next play?”
Helena nodded. “For now, we wait and watch. But only I should go back in. Perhaps you should vanish for a time? Not entirely, but go to the stables. If anyone asks, say you’re ill. The two of us disappeared from the party for too long to now reemerge together. Camille believes we’re off alone too frequently.”
“Yes,” he agreed, tugging her to him. “Meet me tonight after the house is asleep.”
She nodded against his chest, listening to the drum of his heart. “The stable. Like before.”
“Only well after midnight,” he said. “I’ll wait for you.”
She reached up on her toes and kissed him again. “We almost have it.”
“We cannot say this yet. There is more hope than before, but no guarantee.”
“Everything I’ve known since I met you has been more hopeful than it was before.”
“If the situation with Lusk resolves itself—”
“When,” she corrected.
“When Lusk is resolved, and you wake up married to a mercenary, you may not think this.”
“I will,” she said, and she kissed him again and disappeared down the steps.
Almost ten hours later, Helena picked her way across the garden, through the rear gate, and slunk to the half-open door of the stable. Moving carefully, she peeked her head into the dark, musty barn.
“Thank God,” came Declan’s voice.
She couldn’t see him, but she slipped between the open doors and pulled them shut behind her. When she turned, he was there. She leapt at him.
“Sweetheart,” he said, tucking her against him. He kissed her hair, her ear, her neck, her mouth. The kisses came fast and hard, like he meant to get them all in before she disappeared. Helena kissed him back, trying to keep up.
“We’re alone?”
“Only the horses.” He led her through the same rear door. He’d lit the carriage room with a lantern and put wood in a stove. It burned low and hot near two chairs.
“What happened?” he asked, walking to the fire.
Helena saw the workbench where they’d firstkissed. It stood empty, cast in low light. She bypassed the chairs and went to it. “Well, the party ended,” she said. She propped her hip on the workbench. “As usual, no one cared that I’d been gone for half an hour.”
“If nothing else, they are consistent. Their ability to completely ignore their golden goose is unprecedented. Albeit useful.” He reached out to brush a lock of hair from her face. “I will never ignore you.”
“It was one of the chief reasons I attached myself to you.” She turned her head to kiss his hand.
“Hmm. And I thought you found me strong and thrilling. I thought I was an ‘adventure.’ ”
“Well, that goes without saying,” she said.
“Or you could say it.”
She laughed and dropped her head on his shoulder. Even though he’d just kissed her, even though they’d made love last night, she felt jittery and... notnervous, that wasn’t the correct word... she felt eager but untried at the same time, like she’d learned to fly but wasn’t certain of landing.
“But what of the potential duchesses?” he prompted. “And Knightly Snow?”
Helena let out a long, satisfied breath, remembering the triumphant afternoon. “Will you sit?” she asked, patting the workbench. Declan hopped beside her and took her hand.
