“Naturally,” she repeated. “What exactly happened?”
“My brother asked me to deliver an important package,” he explained. “On my return, a group of men attacked me—but they weren’t interested in my purse. They chased me, far longer than a random robbery would justify, even up onto a roof.”
Hannah grasped his arm. “Is that how you were injured? Falling off a damned roof?”
Sol nodded then winced at the pain the movement brought. “My brother and I have made a few enemies over the years as we don’t like to ask permission.” He chuckled to himself. “And given Frederick is the respectable ‘face’ of the family, so to speak, I suppose that makes me the likeliest target of a rival business, but I can’t quite understand why one would want me attacked? Especially without exacting financial revenge.”
Hannah’s grip loosened, her brows drawing together. Almost to herself, she muttered, “I suspect Frederick has made enemies of his own.”
Well, yes, there was Frederick’s rise socially and his suit of Lady Drucilla, but Sol’s death wouldn’t harm either. And in either case, there was still the question of who?
“Were you ‘caught’ recently?” Hannah asked, interrupting his thoughts.
He started to shake his head in the negative before remembering Frederick’s warning. “Not that I know. Which makes solving this mystery a touch challenging. But I’m up for the task.” As he gazed up at her, his relief at having her at his side turned to heat as he realized how little space there was between them.
And how few clothes he was wearing. A fact he’d complained about prior, but now was rather grateful for.
“I’m up for many things,” he said, pulling down the quilt and baring his chest to the room. He wasn’t feeling tired anymore; rather, he was tired of talking.
The edge of her tongue traced her bottom lip, but rather than enjoy the view, she snapped. “Are you joking?”
“It depends on your answer.” He leaned back against the pillow and stretched his arms above his head. “Whichever makes you come closer, most certainly,” he added. Waiting for her to obey was agony, but obey she did, coming right to the edge.
She stopped and squinted.
“Are you wearing only a yarmulke?” she asked.
“Would you like to find out?” he countered, mischief coursing through his veins, along with the confidence that never felt as natural as it did when she was in the room.
“You’re incorrigible,” she told him, but she was smiling.
“Very,” he said with a nod.And you like it.He raised a brow at her. “Is that a yes?”
She glanced behind her toward the door. “There are people in the house.”
“They went to bed.” He shrugged. “And the door has a lock if you care to use it.” He resisted a smile as she ran her finger over the post closest to his head.
He had her. Almost.
“Someone is trying to kill you and we don’t know who,” she reminded him, worry etched on her brow.
“But they haven’t yet,” he countered before lifting her chin so her eyes could meet his—so he could properly win. “Hannah, I’m a vigorous man of many skills who has had more rest than he’s had in months. I know when to fret about my safety and that time is not now.” He released her chin but not her gaze. “Are you going to ask me what it is time for?”
“I’m sure you’re going to tell me,” she said with a small, and completely delicious, pout, which he was most certainly going to be kissing soon.
“Smart woman,” he murmured. “It’s time for you to get rid of those clothes and allow me to make up for the days I’ve lost convincing you to give me and my silver tongue a chance.”
Staring into her eyes, he knew he had won. At least this battle. But that was fine.
In the end, victory would be his.
