Risking the Detective (The Bluestocking Scandals Book 6)

by Ellie St. Clair

  “Bennett would be useless if he actually had to guard against any sort of attack,” she said with a chuckle, and Drake was strangely warmed by her words and the obvious confidence in him.

  “You don’t have to stay here all night,” he said. “I am happy to keep watch myself.”

  “Thank you, Drake, but I would prefer to stay.”

  “Don’t trust me, then?”

  His words were infused with his usual nonchalance, but the thought cut, though why, he had no idea.

  “I trust you as much as nearly anyone,” she said softly, “but I would still prefer to be here. We worked until sundown and the first shift of our workers will begin at dawn, so it will not be long before you can return home and get some sleep.”

  “I don’t need to sleep.” He actually couldn’t sleep, but she didn’t need to know the difference.

  “I understand that,” she said softly. “Though I’m always told that everyone needs to sleep.”

  “Not me,” he said, his eyes having adjusted to the dark building. Windows lined the south-facing wall in one long row, admitting just enough moon and street light for him to make out the shapes within the factory, creating the scene of a frightening story one told to children to scare them away from poor behavior.

  He could also see Madeline. Her hair glinted near silver in the darkness, her dress tonight dark and narrow, hardly discernible.

  “Shall we find somewhere more comfortable to wait?”

  “There are some chairs along the far wall,” she said, her voice seemingly untethered as she weaved her way around the floor, as though she was dancing solo, the pieces of equipment other couples. “We could sit there. I also had a mind to do some patrolling around the building.”

  “Quite the detective yourself, aren’t you?”

  He noted her head turn as she looked toward him over her shoulder. He couldn’t detect her expression, but he guessed it was one of disdain. She did not seem to take all too kindly to his teasing.

  When she answered him, however, there was mirth in her words.

  “Well, if this business does not work out for me, it is good to know that I have a second career option.”

  “You could also marry,” he suggested. “’Tis what most women do.”

  “I tried that already,” she said, her words now harsh. “It did not work out particularly well for me.”

  “Another man might be different.”

  “He might,” she said, her voice, with her head turned away from him, nearly lost in the void. “But he might not. And that is not a chance I am willing to take.”

  A sudden need to throttle Kurt Maxfeld for how deeply he had hurt this woman overcame Drake to the point that he was clenching and unclenching his fists as he walked. The man had broken Madeline Castleton’s spirit, and Drake wondered how it could ever be put back together again.

  He also wondered why it mattered to him so much.

  Must be his penchant to find justice for victims and all that.

  For no other reason was possible. That part of him — the part that might care for others, or search for connection beyond those who had been wronged — was closed off, never to be awoken again.

  For it hurt too much. His emotions were best left where they were — dormant.

  Suddenly Madeline whirled around and looked at him.

  “Did you see that?” she whispered loudly.

  “See what?”

  He had been daydreaming, and because of it, he had obviously missed something important. Something even Madeline had seen.

  “There was a shadow over by the window,” she said as she inched back farther into the darkness next to him.

  “A shadow?” he asked, furrowing his brow. “I hardly think so, I—”

  But there it was again. The light from the window was blocked, just for a moment.

  He sensed rather than saw Madeline shiver next to him.

  “Let’s move,” he said, his instincts and training taking over as he drew her back against the wall. But she was the one who knew the building, and she quickly wriggled out of his grasp, although she took his hand and began leading him along the outskirts of the large room.

  “Back here,” she whispered. “We’ll be able to see everything and be hidden from view.”

  Drake was actually shocked that there was anything of note happening tonight. But quite truthfully, he had not thought that they would actually stumble across anything of note tonight.

  Perhaps he was wrong. Or… there was the possibility that Madeline had staged this for him. Why she would do such a thing, he had no idea, but he had seen stranger situations.

  They stopped behind a sculpture of a siren reclining on a stone that was still intact and was, as far as he was aware, part of the dwindling stock that Madeline and Castleton Stone had remaining.

  Madeline was right. From here, the entire factory stretched out before them, but they would be well concealed back in this corner.

  He stepped into the small recess between the mermaid and the wall and then reached out a hand for Madeline to join him, but the fit was tight, and by the time she worked herself between the wall and the stone, as slim as she was, there was still hardly room for the two of them.

  She wiggled and he inched forward and back, until finally the only way he could find a place of comfort for both of them was to lift his arm up and then place it around her so that it was draped over her chest, drawing her back in toward him.

  “Sorry,” he muttered in her ear, although the apology was just as much to himself as to her, for he was having difficulty thinking straight with her pressed up against him as she was.

  It had been too long since a woman had been close to him like this, too long since anyone had made him feel or think about anything other than the job or the mission he had vowed to fulfill.

  She was just a slip of a woman, and yet she was powerfully drawing him in.

  Which he did not like. Not one bit.

  Regain control, Drake.

  He took a deep breath, his filling chest expanding against her back, and she went rigid before him. Well, if she was uncomfortable, it was her own fault. She had insisted on coming here with him tonight.

  He was sure she was regretting her decision now.

  Madeline closed her eyes as the wall of Drake’s hard, muscled chest pushed against her back, even as she could feel the beat of his heart pum-pumming against her.

  Slower than her own heartbeat, which was racing like the beat of the hooves of a horse pulling a curricle racing to Brighton on a Sunday.

  Drake didn’t even want her here, she reminded herself. To him, being pressed up against a woman like her was obviously of no consequence. She was sure a man such as he, so dark and mysterious, likely took pleasure in women with generous curves and large breasts and experienced in seduction fighting for his attentions.

  She would never have caught his eye if it wasn’t for her pocketbook and her case.

  Why was she spending even a moment considering a man who apparently had no emotions of his own to speak of?

  Because of his body, so hard and lean against her.

  Because of his eyes, dark and hooded and hiding what she was sure were all sorts of secrets.

  Because of his proximity, here in the darkness, providing safety where just on the other side of this stone lurked the enemy.

  Because he had ultimately proven himself to be the one person she could trust.

  If it wasn’t for him, she would be here, alone, paralyzed by her fear of how to best approach the situation.

  But he was here, and because of that, she would be safe. She didn’t know how she was so sure of it, but she was.

  The door, far across the building, creaked open, nearly silent, but the light emitted by the action gave it away.

  A figure slipped in — just one, as far as Madeline could tell. She craned her neck to better see, and as she did, Drake’s breath tickled the skin behind her ear and she shivered involuntarily once more.


  She couldn’t make out, however, who had entered and nor, apparently, could Drake by the way he was craning his neck behind her. She could see that the man was nearing the vats where they had begun to remake the formula for the stone. Much of it was only missing the ingredients that only she knew to include.

  “Do you recognize him?” Drake murmured in her ear, and she shook her head.

  “Too far,” she whispered.

  “Stay here,” he said, pressing his other hand against her hip, as though he could keep her in one place by doing so. “I’m going to see if I can get a better look.”

  He retrieved his arm, and Madeline was lost for a moment by its sudden absence. She remained rooted to the spot as she watched him begin to inch his way over to the new arrival, taking a moment to stop behind various instruments, supplies, and product as he neared.

  Madeline hesitated for a moment before she began to follow, holding up her skirts so that they wouldn’t swish and draw attention toward them.

  A flicker of light came on, as the occupant seemed to have lit a lantern in order to find his way around. Perfect. Maybe then they would be able to see his face — for that, she could tell. This was most certainly a he.

  Just then a sound came from the door, and all three of them in the building jerked their heads up to see.

  It sounded like… a whistle? Madeline narrowed her eyes. It was a familiar whistle. But where had she… the door opened and the whistling of a merry tune grew in volume. A lantern was raised at the door, and she saw… Bennett?

  Madeline clapped a hand over her mouth to keep her exclamation from making any noise. What was her cousin doing here? He couldn’t be part of this — could he? He was the most loyal of anyone she knew. What she couldn’t help, however, was her stumble backward. Her foot caught an errant piece of stone, rubble from the vandalism, and she nearly went flying back into the pile behind her, just managing to catch herself before she went down.

  She did, however, make a great deal of noise as she saved herself.

  “I say!” Bennett exclaimed, his eyes finding her. “Who is there?” He lifted the lantern as he neared, allowing light to flood the room. “Madeline? What is happening here?”

  She was rendered speechless for a moment, until a sharp crack came from the side of the room where the initial intruder had been, while at nearly the same time she was launched sideways, her body involuntarily turning at the last moment so that she landed on something soft and comfortable that broke her fall.

  She opened her eyes to find Drake’s dark ones running up and down her face before searching her body below.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked, gruffly and quickly. She shook her head.

  “Good. Let’s go,” he said, and then before she knew what was happening, he grabbed her hands, pulled her up, and was leading her out of the building through the back door. Her strides were much shorter than his, but she tried to churn her legs quickly to keep up.

  “What’s happening?” she asked, her voice coming in quick puffs.

  “We were shot at, that’s what’s happening,” he said, his voice dourly, their sprint out of the factory not seeming to have any impact on his breath. “Hurry, before we are followed.”

  “But what about Bennett?” she asked, worried that her cousin might be caught in the line of fire.

  “He’s on his own,” Drake said grimly. “I can only protect one of you, and I choose you.”

  “Because I am the job,” she said wryly as she continued to follow him down the dark street, the sound of the Thames on the other side of the buildings guiding them along.

  He cast a look over his shoulder at her, but she couldn’t make out his expression in the darkness of the night.

  Another shot rang out from behind them, and Madeline couldn’t help her exclamation as she tried to run even faster, but her lungs, weakened from the poisoning earlier in the year, couldn’t seem to match her determination, no matter how hard she tried.

  She looked back over her shoulder, but nearly ran into the side of the building in the process. Drake reached out an arm and righted her before whispering harshly, “In here!” and then propelled her into an alleyway. He stopped within an alcove that was the entrance to another building, pressing her up against the door so that he could step in after her, his body holding her hostage.

  His breath was now ragged in her ear, and she was glad to see that some level of physical exertion affected him. She had been beginning to wonder whether he was actually human or not.

  “Don’t move,” he commanded urgently, and she rolled her eyes, even though he couldn’t see them. As if she had any choice but to stay still, from how intently he had her trapped against the door.

  For a moment, a sense of panic overcame her, and a flood of memories rushed back — of how the drug Maxfeld had given her kept her weighed down on the bed, nearly unable to move by the end of it. She had been so helpless, lying there, alone, with no hope of recovery — her options had been to die by poisoning or by starvation.

  Until, thankfully, Alice had come for her.

  She was safe now, she knew that, but there were moments, like this one, where she was taken back to that feeling of helplessness — the feeling that she never wanted to experience again.

  But then Drake’s head dipped, and he was in her ear, his voice surprisingly soothing.

  “It’s all right,” he said, and Madeline was instantly ashamed that she had allowed her discomfort to be so obvious. “We’ll be back into the alley, into the freedom of the night air, in moments. We just have to let him pass, to keep both of us safe.”

  She nodded into his shoulder.

  “Deep breaths,” he said again. “Deep breaths.”

  Madeline did as he said, and her senses were filled with the smell of him — a hint of coffee that hung on the fabric of his jacket. He must drink it often.

  She tilted her head back to ask him, just as he bent his head to her. All she could see were his lips before her, and she wondered, what would it be like to kiss him? Would his lips be hard and unrelenting, or would they be soft and forgiving, the side that he showed her now and again?

  She no longer had a chance to consider it, however, for one of his hands wrapped around the back of her head, and he touched his forehead to hers.

  “Can I kiss you?” he asked, the question surprising and his voice hushed in the darkness that had become near silent despite the noise she knew accompanied every London night.

  She nodded, tilting her head back ever so slightly, just enough to allow his lips to descend on hers.

  As it turned out, they were somewhere in between — firm yet gentle, exploring yet thoughtful. Madeline had only been kissed by one other man before — the only man she had ever thought she would kiss — and while she had enjoyed it, at least at first, this was different. This was nothing short of magic.

  For Drake’s kiss was more giving, more contemplative, more understanding of what she needed and what she was ready for at this particular moment.

  So it surprised her that when he finally broke away, he leaned back and looked down at her with eyes that were far more confused than she felt.

  “Madeline,” he said, his voice husky, “I—”

  “I say, you there!”

  “Bennett!” she exclaimed as Drake stepped back and away from her. “Thank goodness you’re all right.”

  She was happy to see her cousin apparently unscathed, although she couldn’t help the slight twinge of irritation at his timing. What had Drake been about to say?

  “Madeline, what happened in there?” he asked, his lantern swinging wildly. “And what is he doing here?”

  “Drake?” she asked, turning her head to look at him. “I asked him to help me keep a look out in the factory tonight. What were you doing there?”

  “Me?” Bennett asked, splaying a hand across his heart as Drake quietly watched them both, arms crossed over his chest — a chest that Madeline could hardly believe she had been snug against jus
t moments ago. “I was doing exactly that — coming to ensure all was well and that no one was further messing with the inventory.”

  Madeline sighed, dropping her hands. Bennett always meant well.

  “We should have discussed it,” she said. “Then we would not have gotten in one another’s way.”

  “Did you see the intruder?” Drake asked, his deep, raspy voice at odds with Bennett’s.

  “I didn’t see anything,” Bennett said, hanging his head somewhat shamefully. “In truth, I didn’t see that anything was amiss until I heard the shot ring out. I suppose that is why you are the detective and I am part of a stone-making company.”

  He laughed wryly, and Madeline couldn’t help but shrug one shoulder.

  “Well, thank you, Bennett, for trying, and thank goodness none of us were hurt. I just wish we had seen who it was.”

  “I’ll have another detective come and watch the factory for the rest of the night while I see you home, Miss Castleton,” Drake said, and Bennett held up a hand.

  “I can certainly look after my cousin.”

  “I must insist,” Drake said. “I have a weapon, if necessary.”

  “Then why didn’t you use it?” Bennett asked wryly.

  “I was more concerned with seeing your cousin to safety,” Drake said, his voice dry with obvious displeasure at being so questioned.

  “Yes, yes, very good,” Bennett finally said, dropping his arms as relief flooded through Madeline that he was no longer pressing Drake. “Well, I will go watch over the factory until you send someone else.”

  “Thank you, Bennett,” Madeline said, wanting to soften Drake’s censure. Bennett really had been trying his best. “Goodnight.”

  Chapter 8

  What had he been thinking?

  Drake sat at the writing table in his small study, replaying the night’s events as he stared down at the package in front of him.

  He opened up the box, carefully untying the twine first to reveal the contents within as his mind wandered to earlier this evening.

  If there was anything he should be carefully reviewing, it was what had happened in the factory. He had been so close to catching the intruder. If only Madeline’s most unhelpful cousin hadn’t walked in when he did.