Not even a week in his room and Sol was already bored.
It wasn’t as if he didn’t have enough work, organizing files and accounting for two different companies. That took most of his waking hours. Especially as he was having trouble balancing either. Isabelle and David Berab never seemed able to agree on when to bill or how to tally each company’s maximum protection. As for the bank, his brother had hired a new man who clearly needed more training. They were flush with extra interest that he couldn’t trace. New clients, most likely, but where that information was… he’d have to ask Frederick.
When his brother wasn’t busy. Or away from home. A rarity as of late.
And when the sun went down and he’d finished his tray, well, that was the most difficult time. As he’d not exercised except for pacing back and forth, his limbs were bursting with raw energy, making it near impossible to settle. Even harder to gain more of the sleep he so desperately needed to help his brother.
Worse, his mind wandered. Unfortunately, in the direction in which it most certainly should not. ToHannah. Whose face and kiss and smart, tough, and—intentionally or not—funny mouth that knew a hundred deliciously inappropriate words and wasn’t afraid to use them. Who protected herself and hers, right or wrong. She would not leave him be.
Even more troubling, when he tried to imagine the wife Frederick would select, he could only see Hannah, inviting him to do extremely inappropriate things in all sorts of places.
Which would not do. This was exactly why he was stuck in his room—because his head would not go where it should. And he shouldn’t leave until he could force himself to want the right woman.
A proper, useful woman, who would help him be a better member of the Jewish community and a better asset to his brother and Lady Drucilla in the gentile community. A woman they all needed.
And yet his mind would not forget Hannah, no matter how hard he tried, even though they barely knew each other. They’d had, what, a few interactions and kisses? And while the kisses were glorious, they were—unwanted. Or at least neither he nor Hannah should want them. Something they’d both actually agreed upon and yet…
Sol pressed his fingers to his temples, working to calm the beginnings of a legitimate headache. Sitting at the edge of his bed, he hung his head and sighed.
Hewouldlove Frederick’s selection for him. After all, no one knew him better than his brother. And even if he didn’t immediately love her, he’d learn to. Like most couples. He’d make their lives good and secure, and the future of their family would be bright.
Rising and stretching, he paced to the window tostare out into the night for the thousandth time. The same stars, the same moon, the same empty street. Except—Sol started as he peered, not at the sky, but at the ground below.
A single figure darted from behind a lamp. Ducking low, the person hid behind a gate across the way. Then two figures approached and stopped in the middle of the lane.
Rather large, bulky people, who stood with confidence despite the hour and darkness. Their heads bent toward each other and they split in two directions, their feet pattering away. The original figure sprang up and ran toward the house—his house. To the wall just below his window.
Two bare hands slapped down, and with a few high-pitched grunts, a cloaked head popped over, followed by a torso, and… skirts? So was it a woman in the narrow piece of property just under him? Whoever it was, they were trespassing. But somehow, instead of rousing servants to discreetly rid them of the invader, he remained at the window.
Squinting, Sol peered downward as the figure sank lower. She looked up and the hood fell back. The moon shone upon her face, and it was almost as if his blasted, inappropriate, unhelpful thoughts had conjured her.
Hannah. In their side garden. The bruises on her skin seemed to have thankfully faded. Either the salve had worked, or what she had said about healing quickly was true. Either way, he was grateful. And curious.
What was she doing there? Why had she come to him? And why was she being chased?
Not that such wasn’t most likely a typical occurrence for someone like her. And she likely could handleherself just fine. Which meant he should probably ignore her and go to bed. Even if he wasn’t actually tired.
He glanced at the road. Her pursuers hadn’t returned. Yet. He leaned out the window, and cupping his hand over his mouth, he called down as clearly and as quietly as he could. “What are you doing here?”
Her chin tilted up with a start, fear flashing in her wide eyes before they narrowed. She swallowed a few times, and a forced calm came over her features. Hard to spot, but Sol was an excellent poker player—Frederick had taught him well from the time he’d become his guardian.
“Hiding, obviously,” she said, jutting out her chin in challenge.
Yes, her mask was quite clever, but a bit irksome considering that while they might not know each other well, they certainly weren’t strangers. Though again, perhaps those meetings, the saving of his life, the kiss, had not meant as much to her as they had to him—blast it all, he was a fool. And probably delirious from lack of sleep. But instead of returning to bed, his mouth opened again.
“Why are you hiding?” he asked, leaning forward.
“I was following someone, and they caught sight of me.” She glanced over her shoulder. “And they’re going to find me again if you keep making noise. And just after my face healed. I think perhaps it’s time you went to bed like a good little boy.”
Sol resisted a snicker, his body humming with heightened desire at the deliberate verbal shove. Oy, he was a schlemiel.
“Why don’t you come inside then?” he asked, unable to help himself.
She squinted up at him. “Have you lost your, as the goyim like to say, ‘bloody mind’? You… are inviting me… in there”—she pointed to the house as if he needed a demonstration—“in the middle of the night?”
“What? You offered me protection in someone’s building not so long ago; why shouldn’t I return the favor? Especially as this time, the place is mine to offer.” He shrugged as if her answer didn’t matter despite the dancing in his stomach. “And one could argue that I barged into your home, twice, without permission.”
“You didn’t get in the door the second time,” she countered before biting her lip. “How do you know I won’t rob the place?” Her hips swished a little as she stood there, hands across her chest in challenge.
