“You will not. You shall drink a healthful tisane, not whiskey,” she said firmly. “With willow bark in it for pain. Helga will make one for you.”
He coughed a stunned laugh. “Are you giving me an order?” he said incredulously. “Are you giving Helga an order? Have youseenHelga?”
“I watched you nearly die and I daresay I played a role in preventing it. Perhaps you will care to value your life if only because I do. I should be grateful.”
He fell quiet.
“I might say the same of you, Mrs. Gallagher. Will you promise me this is the last time you’ll head out alone to meet strange men?”
Part of her rebelled at the notion of such a vow demanded of her. The other part of her almost desperately cherished it. That she mattered so much to someone seemed improbable. Almost magical.
“You have my word,” she said finally.
A moment later they had reached the livery stable. He thumped the ceiling and the driver came to a halt.
“I will disembark here, and the carriage will bring you to the door of the inn,” he told her.” It will be unseemly for the two of us to be seen arriving together. But I’ll watch from the garden to make sure you are inside safely.”
“Very well.”
But he didn’t move. He was looking at the seat back, his posture rigid. She studied his profile almost hungrily, savoring these last seconds in which they would be alone. He looked etched out of the dark.
“Mrs. Gallagher.” He turned to her, resolutely, his voice low and taut. “Forgive me. I might be a selfish bastard, but given how capricious life is, and on the slim chance either of us dies in our sleep tonight—”
Swiftly, softly, his hand was alongside her cheek and his mouth on hers so suddenly she gasped.
Oh, God. His lips lingered against her parted lips long enough to taste the heat and dark richness of him. Just long enough to send something sparkling and molten down through her very core. Just long enough to coax from her a soft, low, broken moan of pure longing.
It was, shockingly, the sound of relief.
He ended the kiss and ducked his head.
Took two short sharp breaths.
And then pushed the door open, climbed out, touched his hat to her and shut the door.
And the carriage lurched away.
Chapter Nineteen
She closed her eyes and touched her fingertips to her lips.
There was a pressure behind her eyes, and then the tears began. For the beauty of it. For the brutal frustration. For the gorgeous terror she felt. For how precarious her life was now.
He’d left every cell of her aflame and hungry.
And... the way he’d ducked his head to recover from that kiss. As if the very essence of her had gone to his head like whiskey.
Thanks to Hawkes, she now possessed a collection of moments, each more precious than an emerald: the long, slow breath he’d released when she was in his arms today, as if he’d been waiting a lifetime to hold her. The drum of his heart against her cheek. The shockingly competent violence juxtaposed with the knee-buckling tenderness.
And yet, here he was, like a rudder that righted the wildly listing ship that was her life.
Butwhy?
There was indeed safety in danger and danger in safety, and he was both. He was so very careful with her.
As if he already knew all about her.
The way she was beginning to think she knew all about him.
