She’d not shied away but had rather forced the issue, encouraging him to be open with her in a way that had bound them more closely. He was grateful to her for that.
“I’m guessing Mr. Jones saw something,” she murmured.
Adrian glanced at her, male pride surging as he took in the sight of her lithe body stretched out across the bed. She lay on her belly, legs bent at the knees, her ankles crossed and gently swaying while she examined the list of names Orendel had jotted down in the notebook.
He dropped his shaving supplies, wiped his face with a towel, and went to retrieve a clean shirt. Last night had been the most spectacular night of his life. He’d woken with a smile and had found Samantha eager for more carnal pleasure.
Satisfaction flowed through his veins. And yet…
His fingers closed around white linen, a sliver of caution wrapping around his chest. She had deliberately tried to destroy him. He could not, must not, forget that. In case the confessions she’d made – theinformation she’d offered – were but a device intended to lull him.
She’d broken his trust, so until sheprovedherself worthy of it once more, he had to remain on guard. However much he wished it could be otherwise.
“Adrian?”
He looked toward her, this woman who had the power to be his undoing. If he allowed it.
“I believe you’re correct,” he told her while he proceeded to dress, his thoughts returning to her comment about Mr. Jones. “Evidence suggests he was shot from above. My guess is by someone on horseback. It seems unlikely that he would be at the water gate without good reason. The fact that the killer found him there indicates they intended to meet.”
She sent him a glance. “And something either went wrong, or the killer planned on doing away with him there all along.”
“The latter, I suspect.” He mentioned the paper he’d found. “I’ve not had a chance to analyze it in greater detail - that’s one of my tasks this morning. After you and I have had a substantial breakfast. Come on. I’ll help you dress.”
Laughter danced in her eyes as she pushed up into a sitting position and climbed from the bed without any scruples. Gloriously naked, her long blond hair cascading over her shoulders, she padded across the floor, hips swaying, as she entered the dressing room.
He stifled a groan, secretly wishing they could engage in just one more round of bedsport. A quickglance at the clock confirmed that would not be an option. It was already well after nine and they’d not yet eaten. If they were to accomplish anything today, they’d have to get started.
“I’ll go have a word with Wycliff,” he told her when they finished breakfast. “Maybe you can try taking a closer look at that paper I showed you, see if you can decipher additional words.”
“Wouldn’t you rather I come with you to Wycliff for support?”
It was nice of her to offer, but unnecessary. “This will be more efficient. I’ll be back in under two hours.”
A quick kiss in parting and he took his leave. He banged on Wycliff’s door roughly half an hour later and found himself facing the man less than five minutes after that. He looked exactly the same as when Adrian had last seen him. Like a flamboyant prick.
“Didn’t think I’d ever be welcoming you to my humble abode.” Blasé words that didn’t quite manage to hide the apprehension lurking within Wycliff’s gaze.
Adrian stepped forward, his gait calm and fluid. “I trust you haven’t forgotten the power I wield.” No sense in mucking about.
“Of course not. You’re the King of Portman Square.” Insolence dripped from each word.
“Precisely.” Adrian gave him a cool look. “Unlike my father, I’ll not ignore the abuse of women or children. Is that clear?”
Wycliff’s expression hardened. “Define abuse.”
Knuckles cracked as Adrian flexed his fingers. “There will be no beatings for starters, and no more whoring out of those who don’t want to be used in that way.”
“The brothels are my livelihood,” Wycliff growled.
“So is stealing.”
“Yes, but I don’t make as much doing that.”
Adrian tilted his head. “Are you saying you’ll thwart me?”
“Of course not.” Spoken with pure venom.
“So then?”
