Phin sighed. “If you put that thing down, we can talk about it.”
She stared back at him in silent consideration.
Fearful that the intruder might have friends nearby, Phin wanted to rush her into the house. Back to safety. His blood hummed with adrenaline from the brief fight and the hyper-awareness that the darkness around them could hold more threats. But he held still. After such an experience, it was important that she be allowed to regain some control and power over her environment. If she told him to leave, he would.
To a discreet and watchful distance, of course.
After a moment, she lowered the sword to one side, but she did not relinquish possession of it. “Fine,” she said simply. “But not here. Come with me.”
Turning away, she started back toward the house. Phin found himself deeply impressed by her self-possession. He knew that she struggled with shyness and extreme anxiety in social situations. But this—getting attacked in her own private garden—apparently barely phased the woman.
Phin took an extra moment to listen for any subtle indication that a threat still lingered. With his men taking care of the intruder, the house was left unguarded for the moment.
Until replacements were in place, he wouldn’t be leaving the lady’s side.
“Quiet,” she whispered from the darkness ahead of him. “Follow me.” Then she stepped silently through the large casement window into the room.
He could just barely perceive her outline ahead of him as his eyes tried to adjust to the loss of moonlight. But she clearly didn’t need to see her way as she continued easily and confidently forward. After several steps, she reached a door. Opening it only a crack to reveal a dimly lit hall, she paused to ensure there was no one beyond. Then she turned back with a finger pressed to her lips before she waved himafter her. From there she led him down the hall then up a narrow servants’ stairway.
On the second level, she turned down another hallway that he recognized from his prior visit before guiding him through the second door into a small sitting room lit by a few candles.
It smelled of her—vanilla and cinnamon. More than that, it contained the very essence of her. Warm, soft, alluring.
Phin stood still as she secured the door behind them. The intimacy of the room was unexpected. That she’d trusted him enough to bring him to her personal rooms was…rather astounding. And, he feared, undeserved.
“There,” she said softly as she walked past him into the room. “Now we may talk freely. My parents are not currently in residence, but the servants are well-trained to report anything untoward directly to my father. Though they are all likely asleep at this hour and apparently weren’t awoken by the disturbance outside, I wouldn’t wish to take any chances of being overheard. We can be assured they wouldn’t venture to these rooms unless I were to call for them.”
As she spoke, she walked to the fireplace. After propping the scimitar against the carved, marble hearth, she gently stirred the low-burning coals back to greater life. Then she folded her arms over her chest as she turned back to face him.
For all her poise and self-command, Phin got the sense that she’d been talking as a way to ease some level of discomfort. Whether it was due to the attack or his presence in her room he couldn’t be certain.
Especially when her cheeks darkened to a dusky rose the moment she met his even stare.
Then she tilted her head. “Who was that man?”
Phin cleared his throat and strode toward the windows. “That is something I intend to find out.”
“I assume he is either the same man from Vauxhall or is associated with him,” she noted when Phin paused to scan the street below.
“I would assume so,” he muttered in response. He had noticed that the man was similarly dressed to the one who’d confronted them that night at Vauxhall.
“So, this has to do with the necklace.”
Phin nodded.
“Is that why you were here? And those others?” she asked, though she’d clearly already surmised the truth of it. “Are you watching me?”
“Watchingoutfor you,” he corrected with a half smile.
“Hm,” she replied in a dubious tone. “How odd to have come to the conclusion that you surely must have left town—or perhaps even the country—only to discover you in my own garden.”
Her caustic tone was almost welcomed. He knew his recent disappearance would upset her. He’d been wanting to explain that he was only doing what he thought he must to keep her safe. That the last days had been horrid for not getting to see her, talk to her, touch her. But first, she deserved to give him a severe set-down for his behavior.
Her dark eyes found and held his. “I worried about you, at first,” she said quietly. “Worried that the danger you’d spoken of had gotten to you.” Her jaw tightened. “But then I realized that if the Viscount Waring had been hurt in any way—or if he’d truly gone missing—I’d certainly have heard about it.”
The accusation was back in her voice.
Phin bit his tongue and concentrated on keeping his feet planted on the carpet despite his burning desire to go to her.
