A Dangerous Passion

by Jillian Eaton

  Once she and Bran would have leapt into bed the moment the door closed. Now they stood apart in awkward silence, two strangers who knew the taste of each other’s lips…but not the secrets they were hiding in their hearts.

  “Are ye hungry?” Bran asked finally. He’d taken off his coat and unbuttoned the top of his shirt, exposing a golden V of skin that automatically drew Lilly’s eye. If only he’d gotten ugly during their time apart, or fat, or slovenly…but he was even handsomer than she remembered, and the spark of attraction she’d felt the first moment their hands touched was still there, sizzling just beneath the surface.

  “No. But I would like a bath, and some rest.” She bit her lip. “Should I use the guest room?”

  “Juliet’s bedchamber is twice the size and she’ll be gone for the rest of the month. I’ll have a bath drawn for ye, and a platter of food sent up for when ye’re of a mind to eat.”

  Lilly glanced down at her stained dress. “I should also send for my clothes.”

  “If anyone goes back to yer flat they run the risk of being seen and followed by the Slasher,” Bran said grimly. “Best use Juliet’s things until we get this whole mess sorted out.”

  He was right, of course. It would be stupid to try to retrieve any of her belongings. She just hoped they’d still be there when she returned. “I suppose…I suppose I’ll head upstairs now.” But even after she’d said the words she continued to linger, fingers interlocking as she cast Bran a series of quick, fluttering glances from beneath her lashes.

  What was he thinking? It was impossible to tell behind the stoic mask he wore. Not that it mattered one way or the other. He may have been as handsome and charming as ever, but he’d still broken her heart. No, not broken, she corrected. Shattered. He’d shattered her heart. Whether he’d done it to protect her or for his own selfish means, it didn’t change the fact that she’d had to stitch it back together piece by bleeding piece.

  And she had no intention of letting him tear her stitches apart.

  “I appreciate you risking your life to protect mine.” She met his unreadable gaze without blinking. “But I want to make it clear that this changes nothing between us. When the Slasher has been caught, I’m leaving. You already hurt me once. I won’t let you do it again. I’ve built a life for myself. A good life. A life I’m proud of.” Her chin lifted. “I will not allow you to ruin it.”

  Without waiting for a response she turned and walked up the stairs.

  Even though it killed him, Bran forced himself to give Lilly her space. For five days and five nights they cohabitated without exchanging more than a handful of words, most of which consisted of cordial ‘good mornings’ and ‘good evenings’ and ‘enjoy your day’. He’d never been this bloody tense in all of his life, and he knew if something didn’t change soon he was likely to explode.

  He wanted Lilly so badly he ached. And it wasn’t just her body he yearned for, although there wasn’t a night that went by where he didn’t dream of her beneath him, her ivory skin bathed in candlelight and her eyes dark with desire.

  He ached for her smile.

  He ached for her laughter.

  He ached for the way she used to look at him before he destroyed everything.

  If he could have gone back and changed time, he would have done so in an instant. But he wasn’t a bloody magician or a witch. He couldn’t snap his fingers and take away the pain he’d caused her, nor could he make her forget.

  But he could try to make her forgive.

  The sun was just setting in a sky blooming with color when he found her in the garden, a book on her lap and a line of concentration between her pretty brows. She hadn’t resisted when he told her that it was safest if she didn’t leave the house, and for the better part of a week she’d been dividing her time between the kitchen – who knew the lass had such a skill for baking? – and the garden.

  It baffled the mind that she could quietly sit and disappear between the pages of a book for hours on end. He’d taken to watching her through the window, his fingers pressed against the glass as he imagined the occasional smile that flitted across her face was meant just for him.

  She looked up as he approached, her expression guarded. “Have you heard from Bow Street? Is something wrong?”

  “No.” Because he knew better than to try to sit beside her, he pulled up a metal chair. “Nothing’s wrong, love.” Other than the Runner’s complete and utter incompetence, he added silently. How long did it take for nine men to track down one? Every day the Slasher awoke a free man was another day Lilly’s life was in danger. Although he’d be the first to admit the murdering bastard was excellent at covering his tracks. If anyone in the East End knew where he was, they weren’t speaking.

  Which only confirmed Bran’s inkling suspicion that wherever the Slasher was from, it wasn’t the East End.

  “I just wanted to come out and talk to ye. I thought it was time we discussed things.”

  “Oh?” Carefully marking her place in the book with a blue hair ribbon, she set it aside. “And what is it you would care to discuss? The case?”

  “No.” He grinded his teeth. “Not the bloody case.”

  “Then I’m afraid there’s nothing else we have to talk about.”

  “Ye know damn well that’s not true.” He leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees, jaw clenched. “It’s time we both stop walking on eggshells and acknowledge there’s still something between us.”

  “I – I’m certain I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said coolly, but he saw the flicker of awareness in her eyes before she managed to conceal it. “There was something between us. But you put an end to it.”

  “Aye, I know.” A frustrated breath whistled between his lips as he sat back. “I know I did, and I’m sorrier for that than I can possibly say. I was only trying to do the right thing, Lilly. I wanted to protect ye.”

  “Instead you hurt me. You hurt me, Bran, and you didn’t have to.” She jabbed an accusing finger at the middle of his chest. “You were cruel and selfish and you lied to me because it was easier than telling the truth.”

  “You’re right, I did.” There was no reason to deny it. No point in making excuses. “And I was wrong. And if I could go back and do things differently, I would.” He strummed his fingers on the hard edge of his thigh. “I never claimed to be a good man, Lilly. But ever since I met ye I’ve wanted to be a better one. Give me another chance, love. Let me prove that I’m deservin’ of ye.”

  “That’s just it.” The book tumbled to the ground as she shot to her feet. “You don’t deserve me.”

  He watched her storm back into the house. Waited until she’d slammed the door behind her to pick up an empty pot and send it hurtling at the fence. The ceramic shattered on impact, but the destructive act did not bring him any sense of satisfaction.

  Instead he felt only loss…and the achingly bitter taste of regret.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Over my dead body,” Bran said flatly. “No. Absolutely not.”

  It had been eight days since Lilly’s attack, and Owen had called a meeting to discuss the case. Or rather, the lack of a case. Without any leads or any real evidence aside from Lilly’s recollections, the Runners had nothing to go on and Owen had decided it was time for a new approach.

  The only problem? His new approach required Lilly to be used as bait.

  “Let’s hear him out,” she said quietly even as fear leached the color from her cheeks and had a thin line of perspiration dotting her brow. The last thing in the world she wanted to do was be dangled in front of the Slasher like raw meat in front of a dog, but she couldn’t live the rest of her life looking over her shoulder. Nor could she spend another week with Bran.

  The first five days had been hard. The last three had been torture.

  Even since he’d confronted her in the garden she’d been unable to stop thinking about him, or the things he had said. How badly she wanted to forgive him! To accept his apology, accept tha
t he’d made a mistake, and go back to the way things used to be. But if she did that, she would be putting her heart at risk yet again…and this time if it broke she feared there wouldn’t be enough pieces left to put it back together.

  “I don’t need to hear a damn word,” Bran growled. He was sitting right beside her, his body so tense his chair was all but vibrating. She didn’t blame him for his visible agitation. If she were a renowned jewel thief in a room filled with Runners she wouldn’t exactly be relaxed. But he’d been adamant about escorting her to Bow Street, and not wanting to get into another argument – or walk by herself, for that matter – she hadn’t tried to dissuade him.

  “We wouldn’t take any unnecessary risks.” This came from Ian, who was seated directly across from them. His brother, Colin, was on his left side and Kent, who hadn’t stopped glaring daggers at Bran since they’d walked in, was on his right. Owen sat at the head of the table and the largest man Lilly had ever seen stood in the corner behind him. He hadn’t spoken a single word since they meeting had begun, leaving her to wonder if he was capable of speaking at all.

  “Ian’s right,” said Owen. “We’d have eyes on Miss James the entire time.”

  Bran slammed his fist on the table with such force that a pile of papers went flying up in the air. “I don’t care if ye have the entire British fleet surroundin’ her. The answer is no. Come on, lass.” Scraping back his chair, he stood up. “I’ve heard enough. We’re leaving.”

  “You can go.” She met his tumultuous gaze beneath a thick sweep of lashes. “But I’m going to stay. I want to help, Bran.”

  “Lilly–” he began, but she cut him off with a quick shake of her head.

  “This isn’t your decision to make. It’s mine. And I want to help.” Squaring her shoulders, she looked past Bran to Owen. “Just tell me what I need to do.”

  Exactly one week later Lilly found herself retracing the steps she’d taken on the night the Slasher had nearly taken her life. It was pitch black, the moon and stars hidden beneath a wall of heavy clouds. By Owen’s orders even the street lamps were dimmed, casting everything into shadow…and creating an enticing web with which to snare the Slasher.

  He’d told her to act natural. As if there was anything natural about trying to lure a sadistic murderer out of his cave. It was all she could do to remember to keep breathing.

  One foot in front of the other, she told herself as she walked quickly across Broad Street and turned towards the flat she hadn’t visited for nearly a month. Just keep putting one foot in front of the other.

  She knew the Runners were out there, hiding where she couldn’t see them. She knew she was safe. Or at least as safe as she possibly could be. But that didn’t stop her from jumping a foot in the air when she heard a nearby door slam, or choking back a terrified scream when a rat went skittering across her path with half a loaf of bread stuffed between its jaws.

  She suddenly, desperately wished Bran was with her. But after he’d stormed out of Bow Street she hadn’t seen or heard from him. For the past seven days she’d been living with Owen and his wife Scarlett, a beautiful blonde with a wonderful sense of humor. It had been her job to distract Lilly from what was to come and for all intents and purposes she’d succeeded swimmingly. But there had been no amount of distractions that could make Lilly stop thinking about Bran.

  The hard truth was that she missed him terribly. And try as she might to convince herself otherwise, she was afraid that this time she was the one who was being cruel and selfish.

  Bran had come to her with his hat in his hands and she’d turned him away. Not only that, but she’d chosen the Runners – his arch nemeses! – over him. The flash of betrayal she had seen in his eyes before he left…it made her chest ache just to think of it.

  Trying to protect her heart was all well and good, but what if in the process she lost the heart she was trying to protect? Bran wasn’t perfect. He’d said as much himself. But then neither was she. Instead of going into their relationship with an open mind and a hopeful spirit, she’d damned their affair to fail before it ever really began. Was it any wonder, then, that it had done precisely that?

  Bran never should have lied to her. But hadn’t she lied to him by not admitting the strength of her feelings? If she’d told him that she loved him, he may never have let her go. But what he’d said in the garden rang true. They couldn’t change the past, only the future. Which was why she intended on telling him exactly how she felt.

  If she survived the night.

  Lilly felt an equal mix of relief and disappointment when she reached the front door of her flat without encountering the Slasher. Yes, she wanted to stop looking over her shoulder, but despite what she’d told Owen she wasn’t exactly keen on the idea of being used as human bait.

  Maybe the Runners hadn’t been able to find the Slasher because he really was gone this time. But no sooner had the thought passed through her mind than the front door swung open, two strong hands closed around her throat, and she was dragged inside.

  Bran watched from the shadows as Lilly walked slowly and purposefully down the street. Like a lamb bound for slaughter, he thought, his mouth twisting into a scowl that was dark as his surroundings.

  It took every ounce of self-control he possessed not to go out there and demand she come to her senses. But he’d already committed the mistake of making a decision for her, and no matter how hard it was to stand by and allow her to walk into danger, he had no intention of repeating his mistake a second time.

  If this was what she felt she needed to do then he needed to allow her to do it. Because she wasn’t naïve or dimwitted, and as much as he would have liked to set her high on a shelf, she wasn’t a doll he could pack away when the mood struck. If he wanted her – and God knew he did – then he needed to let her do this.

  But he’d be damned if he had to like it.

  While the Runners stuck out like sore thumbs from their various lookout points, Bran moved through the shadows as if he’d been born into them. Which, given his line of work, he might as well have been. But Lilly wasn’t a necklace he was stealing. She was the love of his life. And he’d never be able to live with himself if something happened to her.

  When she reached her flat he stayed back, his body wedged between the narrow brick walls of two townhouses. The closest Runner was nearly twice as far away as he, which made him all but bloody useless in Bran’s opinion. What did they intend to do if the Slasher did show up? Shout at him from afar to put down his knife and surrender? Bran’s mouth curled in a derisive sneer. Fat chance of that. Thankfully, it seemed their quarry was either too smart to fall for a trap as obvious as this one, or he’d moved on to greener pastures.

  If Bran was a betting man, he’d lay odds on the latter. Then the door opened. And there was nothing he could do but watch helplessly as Lilly disappeared.

  Her first instinct was to fight. Clawing and scratching at the gloved hands coiled around her throat Lilly tried to scream, but the only thing she could manage was a choked gasp. Black dots danced in front of her eyes and she could feel her face turning a deep, garish purple as she was dragged through her small parlor and into her bedchamber.

  Her lungs burned. Her eyes stung. Her legs kicked feebly.

  This is it, she thought dazedly. This is how I die.

  But as quickly as he’d grabbed her the Slasher abruptly let her go, throwing her down onto the bed as if she weighed less than nothing. She landed on her back and before she could twist to the side he was on top of her, his knee pressing painfully into her stomach while he held her wrists above her head in a bruising grip.

  “Delilah. Hoyden. Whore.” He spat each word as if it were a curse, and Lilly flinched when his saliva flew across her face in a sickly sweet spray. He wore a black silk domino complete with mask that concealed the upper part of his countenance save for his eyes which were a rich, dark brown and filled with madness. “You’ll pay for your sins in flesh I will cut from your skin and blood I will d
rain from your veins. Only then will you be able to rest.”

  “Who – who are you?” she croaked, her throat bruised and battered from his punishing grip. “What do…you want?”

  Those maddened eyes flashed with ire. “Thou shall ask no questions and receive no answers, for thou has sinned before the Lord.”

  “If anyone has sinned, it’s you.” Her only chance, Lilly knew, was to keep him talking and to bide her time for as long as possible. Surely the Runners had seen the Slasher take her. They’d come for her any second, if they weren’t in the flat already. “You’re a murderer.”

  “Some might call me a savior. You will, before I’m through.”

  She trembled with he withdrew his knife and trailed the tip of the blade from the corner of her eye all the way down to her shoulder.

  He didn’t cut her. Not yet. But knowing that he could – knowing that at any moment he chose he could gut her like a fish – was almost as terrifying as the act itself.

  “Please don’t hurt me. I – I’m not a whore. I’m not a whore,” she gasped when the knife cut into her skin just beneath her collarbone. “You don’t have to do this.”

  “We all have our callings.” He lifted the knife to his mouth and bile rose in Lilly’s throat when his tongue snaked out to lick her blood from the blade. “I am only doing what has been asked of me. God says–”

  But whatever God said remained a mystery as a shadow came flying out of nowhere and tackled the Slasher to the ground. Scrambling off the far side of the mattress, Lilly clung desperately to one of the wooden bedposts and watched in horror as Bran and the Slasher grappled for the curved knife. The rolled over once, twice, their bodies so entangled it was impossible to tell who was winning.

  Lilly slapped a hand over her mouth to contain a scream when she saw the knife arc high in the air and then stabbed downwards towards Bran’s chest, but with catlike reflexes he rolled to the side the tip of the blade sank into the floor instead.