“Our relationship has taken a drastic turn within a very short time,” he said. “We’ve been caught off guard and while instinct may compel us to forge ahead, I believe the prudent thing to do would be for both of us to take some time to reflect on what we actually want.”
While she agreed with the wisdom of this, she had to know, “Where does this leave us?”
“Since we’ve already begun addressing each other informally, I see no reason why we cannot continue to do so when in private. Provided you agree.”
“I do.” She liked that familiarity between them; besides which he was right. It would seem ridiculous to revert to formal forms of address after using each other’s given names.
He held her gaze a moment, the intensity she found there distracting her from the cold. Then he broke eye contact and returned to leaning against the wall. Another cheroot was swiftly lit, the smoke it produced a swirling mist that rose to the sky.
“Beyond that,” he said, seeming to ponder every angle as he spoke, “there will be no intimacy between us unless we become affianced. That means no physical contact whatsoever from this moment onward.”
“Unless we become affianced,” she said, repeating his stipulation, hating the sense of loss that came with it.
Instead of responding, he pulled more smoke into his lungs and expelled it, then told her softly, “After everything we’ve discussed this afternoon, after all that has been revealed, it’s the only way to ensure I don’t ruin you, Gabriella.”
She swallowed as his honesty settled deep in her bones. That any man would struggle to restrain himself in her presence was inconceivable. But that he, Peter Kendrick, the most impressive man she’d ever met would do so, seemed impossible. Yet there was no hint of dishonesty about him. He was as grave as she’d ever seen him.
And since his confession had caught her off balance, she had no ready response besides, “I think I’ll go see if Sergeant Wilkins has found Mr. Warren’s file.”
Peter remained outside for a few minutes longer, his thoughts in turmoil.
Gabriella was drawn to him. She reciprocated the fierce attraction he’d been fighting these past few months. And in so doing, she’d made herself available to him in ways he’d not dared hope for. Which was why he’d been forced to place a barrier between them, because the alternative…
Heaven help him, but knowing she’d welcome his advances was like a flame to his pent-up desire. An impatient beast he had to keep on a very tight leash, lest it ruin her reputation. Something he would not allow, no matter how challenging it would be to face her each day with that much tension between them.
He’d do it though, to protect her from all repercussion.
So he finished the last of his cheroot and tossed it before returning indoors. With a murder case to solve, his personal life had to come second anyway. Plus, the case would provide a welcome distraction from Gabriella’s kissable lips and delectable body. Her hair…
She didn’t glance his way when he entered, though the increased strain in her posture as she leaned over the records room counter told him she was acutely aware of his arrival. A sentiment that pulled at his lips as he strode to where she stood, a number of pages spread out before her.
“I see Sergeant Wilkins found Mr. Warren’s record faster than expected,” he said, staying at arm’s length. “Anything of note?”
“He was at Waterloo.” She pointed to a spot on the page where Peter presumed this was mentioned. “Served as a private in the foot guards.”
Peter propped his forearm on the edge of the counter, his body turned toward her. “Waterloo was fought in 1815.”
He noted the way in which she stilled, could almost see her clever brain processing that information.
And then she finally did glance at him, those stunning bespectacled eyes of hers bright with understanding. “The coin found in Warren’s mouth was minted that same year. A coincidence or a deliberate connection?”
Peter squashed the powerful urge to kiss her and turned to address Sergeant Wilkins. “I’d like to take these papers back to Bow Street with me. If needed, I can have a copy returned to you tomorrow.”
The sergeant straightened. “I’ll need your word on that, Chief Constable.”
“Of course.” Peter exchanged a few more words with the man while Gabriella gathered the papers back into a pile and placed them in a folder.
As soon as he saw she was ready, he thanked Sergeant Wilkins for his time. Hands clasped behind his back, he then directed a nod at the door and told Gabriella, “After you.”
Carrying the file, she preceded him into the hallway beyond and continued walking toward the building’s exit. Peter followed, his disobedient gaze on the sway of her hips, his mind on the inappropriate thoughts that were born from this vision.
And then they were stepping outside and crossing to where their carriage waited. Intent on keeping his word and preventing the possible destruction of Gabriella’s future, Peter did not offer to help her climb in. Instead he waited until she was seated inside the vehicle.
Only then did he say, “I’m going to ask the driver to take you home.”
She leaned forward, lips pursing, her brow slightly furrowed. “You’re not coming back to Bow Street with me?”
“It’s late and I need a walk to clear my mind.” Truthfully, he wasn’t sure he had the will-power required to spend two additional hours alone with her in a confined space without giving in to his baser instincts. “I’ll see you again tomorrow.”
