“Guy, I couldn’t be sure. Somerton doesn’t normally sign his dispatches, but, since there was little chance his letter could fall into enemy hands, I had to consider he would not take such a precaution.”
“Did it ever occur to you to discuss the matter with me before sending me off like a goddamned idiot?”
“No, Guy! It wasn’t like that—”
He held up his hand, cutting off her explanation. “It was exactly like that.” He closed his eyes briefly, painfully. When he opened them a few seconds later, his taut features were dull, passionless. Hurt. “I trusted your judgment on the matter.” He released her, backing away. “But you didn’t believe I could protect you.”
She reached for him, wanting to bring back the man who had tenderly kissed her bruised face. “Please don’t be angry, Guy.”
His arms rose in a do-not-touch-me gesture, and a glint of something not quite human entered his gaze. “I have cracked men’s necks with my bare hands. Broken bones and severed tendons. I have done unspeakable things in the name of England. Had you let me in on the ruse, I could have killed your Frenchman, and this nightmare would be over.”
She now recalled their conversation in her bedchamber, where Guy had likened himself to a cold-blooded killer. His comment had given her little pause then, believing his masculine pride directed such boastful words, rather than any direct proficiency.
Her gaze swept down his body, taking in solid shoulders that needed no padding and upper arms far too thick to encircle with even two hands. Could it be true? In an effort to protect Guy and save her brother, had she missed an opportunity to destroy Valère?
Where would a cryptographer come across such unique skills? And why?
“You’re right. I should have shared my concerns with you. But I didn’t want—” to lose another loved one. First her parents, and then she was faced with losing her brother. Few experienced such unbearable losses, and even fewer understood the steps one would take to prevent others from being added to the list. “I told you in London that I didn’t want you involved in this.”
After a long, considering silence, he said, “I remember.”
His low response spoke both of determination and hurt, and Cora’s heart wrenched for her part in encouraging either emotion to surface.
“You should know Somerton has not heard from your brother since before we left for the country. So that part of Valère’s subterfuge might be true.”
Cora nodded. “Valère all but admitted he held Ethan.”
He scrutinized the bruises on her face caused by her fall the night before. She fought the urge to hide her new injuries, even though she was aware he had seen her looking worse.
“Dinks,” he called.
“Yes, sir?”
“Please see your mistress inside. I shall follow in a moment to make arrangements.”
“Will do, my lord.”
He strode to the driver’s box and said a few quiet words to the men up top. Then Jack jumped down and Bingham shifted over, gruffly handing the reins to Guy. With an expert flick of his wrists, he set the horses in motion and headed toward the stables.
The relieved joy Cora felt upon seeing Guy again vanished in a cloud of choking dust.
“Come, Miss Cora,” Dinks coaxed. “Let’s get you inside.”
Numb and unsteady, she led their bedraggled group to the inn. A stern-faced Guy arrived a few minutes later, and he arranged rooms for everyone, including a hot bath and meal, holding firm against her servants’ protests. As her three weary friends were led away, Cora sent Guy an uneasy glance. She wanted to make things right, soothe the hurt she had caused, but didn’t know where to start. Her pulse quickened when he stopped before her.
“This issue of your lack of faith in me is not settled.” He waved his hand toward the stairs. “Shall we?”
“It’s not that—” Cora halted after only a few steps when her world began to tilt.
Guy steadied her. “What’s wrong?”
She gently probed the painful lump on the back of her head. “Dinks warned I might have sustained a concussion when Valère’s new henchman struck me. She wouldn’t even allow me to sleep on the ride here.”
“Smart woman,” Guy murmured. “Prepare yourself.”
She swallowed. “F-for what?”
“I’m about to carry you up to your bedchamber. You will no doubt protest, however. If you do, I shall object even more loudly, making a spectacle of us both.”
She eyed him warily, unsure what to make of his mood. “I will endeavor not to make a scene, my lord.”
“A wise decision.” He gave her a moment to absorb his pronouncement, indicating it was up to her to decide how quietly they would make the journey.
A thousand tiny bees swarmed Cora’s heart. Although his words lacked warmth, her poor decision had not altered his determination to care for her. She reached up and traced the dark circles burrowed beneath his eyes. “How long has it been since you last slept?”
He ignored her question. “Ready?”
She drew in a deep breath and suppressed the small twinge of disquiet. With an expansive sweep of her hand, she said, “Carry away, my lord.”
His left brow rose at her capitulation, but he did not delay. He lifted her into his arms and ascended the stairs after one of the inn’s maids.
She ignored the tight clamp of his embrace and the cold sweat that coated her palms. At the end of the corridor, he entered a small yet well-appointed chamber. While the maid bent to light a fire, Cora took in the room with one thorough sweep of her gaze. Near the window sat a stained writing table and a chair that looked better suited to the rubbish rather than a guest room. A wash bowl filled one corner, and, to the right of the door stood a bed wide enough for two, with not-quite-matching night tables flanking each side.
The maid dusted off her hands. “Will you be needing anything else, sir?”
Guy strode toward the bed. “No, that will be all.”
“Very well,” she said with a curtsy. “The boys should be here soon with your bath.”
Guy set Cora down on the edge of the bed, then knelt to remove her slippers. After dropping both shoes to the floor, he remained in place, his head bent. Silent. Contemplative. Tense.
“Why did you let me leave?” His question emerged harsh, bitter, and choked with suppressed rage. He lifted his head. “Why?”
Cora’s heart beat too quickly. The answer he sought was stuck deep inside her throat, unwilling to surface for fear of further wounding him. But, as she gazed into his stormy dark eyes, she knew he deserved the truth, even if her confession exposed too much.
“I couldn’t—” A knock sounded at the door, cutting her off.
Guy’s gaze never wavered. He leaned forward, bracing his large hands on either side of her hips, trapping her in place. “Go on.”
She sucked back a sharp rebuke. He wanted an answer to his question, but he also tested her resolve. He knew what inner turmoil such an aggressive position would cause her, and yet he still pushed her to resist the temptation to break free.
Her body and mind engaged in a soundless battle, and she fought to find the courage she once wore like an armored mantle. A quiver began in her stomach and then moved down to her legs. If she tried to speak now, the same tremor would garble her words.
When she stayed quiet, he pushed off the bed and stood. “Enter.”
The owner’s burly sons carried in a hip tub and retrieved several steaming buckets of water for her bath.
The taller boy asked, “Will you be needing anything else, m’lord?”
“Have you taken care of the others?”
“More water is heating as we speak, sir.”
Guy flipped a coin to each of them. “That will be all for now.”
As the two shuffled out, Guy strode to the fireplace and stared into the low flickering flames. With his demanding gaze no longer centered on her, Cora felt a measure of her control return. “I only suspected things weren’t as they
should be.”
“And you said nothing?” The somber quality of his words made her throat ache with guilt.
“It was nothing tangible, Guy. I pieced together small nuances that seemed out of place.”
He peered at her over his shoulder. “Somerton’s signature?”
“Yes.”
A muscle in his cheek jumped. “What else?”
She paused, reluctant to put into words actions that nearly broke her heart.
“Cora?”
“Jack,” she said at last.
“What about him?”
“From the moment we stepped into the kitchen, I could sense his turmoil. At first, I thought his uncharacteristic behavior had to do with the news about my brother and his reluctance to deliver such news. But Valère made sure I knew of Jack’s betrayal.”
“Why would Jack take up with Valère? The footman’s devoted to you.”
A lump caught in her throat. “Valère took Jack’s little sister to ensure he would convincingly deliver the note. He still has her, in fact.”
Guy stabbed his fingers through his hair, locking them at the back of his head. “Good God. Why have I never heard of her before?”
“I don’t know. She was rather shy as a young girl, avoided most people, especially imposing men. For the past six months, Grace’s been staying at Miss Conrad’s School for Girls near Bath. How Valère found her, I don’t know.”
Guy dropped his arms to his sides. “You should have shared your suspicions with me, Cora.”
“What if I was wrong? Jack’s odd behavior could easily have been explained away. What if Somerton needed you, and you stayed to protect me? What would have happened to my brother?”
He ripped the leather thong from his hair, freeing his velvety black mane and obscuring his sharp features. Cora’s breath hitched. His road-weary appearance transformed into wild sophistication. He resembled an untamed creature of the forest thrust into the civilized world. He exhibited an air of danger, and Cora wanted nothing more at that moment than to spear her fingers through his hair and draw him down for a thought-obliterating kiss.
“But you weren’t wrong, were you? And you allowed—no, encouraged me to set off for London like a damned fool.”
All thoughts of kisses disappeared. “If I hadn’t, you’d be dead right now—just like your guards.”
Explosive silence preceded his animal-like growl.
“Are you saying you were protecting me?” He marched toward her, and Cora jumped up from the bed. “Do you have any idea of the hell you put me through by remaining silent? No, of course you don’t. You were too busy fighting for your bloody life and apparently protecting mine.”
“I did what I was trained to do—protect and seek information. If it was a ruse by Valère, I thought he might take me to Ethan.”
“And then what, Cora? If Valère had taken you to whatever pit of hell is currently holding Ethan, how could your going there alone have helped anyone?”
It wouldn’t have—unless they followed her trail like last time. Given the circumstances, she hadn’t had time to fully think through her stratagem. Only two things stood clear in her mind while staring down at Valère’s note—help Ethan and get Guy to safety. That’s all.
“Leave it to you to find the hole,” she mumbled beneath her breath.
He must have heard her, for the fury left his face. However, the hurt lingered. It flowed deeply, as if she had cut out the core of his manhood and tossed it aside.
“Tell me the rest of it,” he demanded. “After the hell you put me through, I deserve to know what that bastard did to you.”
Deserve to know. Any remorse she might have been feeling suddenly leached away, leaving nothing but an exasperated Raven behind.
“What is this really about, Guy?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean, my dear.”
“Do not mistake me for one of your addlepated ladybirds, my lord.”
He stepped forward. “What would you know of my ladybirds, Cora?”
She gritted her teeth against the pang of arousal his nearness caused. He looked fierce and volatile and so very dangerous to her heart. “Not a single thing, and I prefer to keep it that way.”
He stared at her for the longest time before splaying his hand across his forehead to rub his temples. “I didn’t heed my own damn instincts. My gut told me something was amiss, and still I left.” He swung around to pace the small confines of the room. When he reached the far wall, he slammed his palm against it, the impact rattling the nearby window. “I should never have left you. I should have spoken to the messenger myself.”
Comprehension dawned, and a morsel of sympathy pushed past her irritation. For the first time since arriving at the inn, the tension vibrating through her body eased.
“You trusted Jack, as I did, Guy.” She hesitated. “And you trusted me. The fault does not lie with you.” She flicked her hand in an unaffected gesture. “Besides a few scrapes and bruises, I’m fine. Do not castigate yourself any further.”
He lifted his tormented gaze to hers, and Cora itched to pull him into her arms. But she had wounded him, and wounded him badly. Would he welcome her comforting touch? She didn’t know, and she realized she was too much of a coward to find out. She clamped her hands behind her back.
“I thought…” He swallowed hard, his gaze burning brighter.
Cora stepped closer. “What, Guy?” Her heart clamored in her chest, and her hands tightened their hold.
“I thought he had killed you.” Air bellowed through his nostrils.
She knew the agony such a thought carried. Had felt it when considering her alternatives with the forged missive. She had lost so much. The possibility of losing Guy, too, forced her to send him away. Away to safety.
For hours, he had believed her dead. She had never meant to put him through such pain. “Guy.” One step, two steps, half-running, she threw herself into his arms. He didn’t rebuff her, as she had feared. In fact, he seemed to need the contact as much as she. “I’m sorry, Guy. I don’t know what else to say.”
He cradled her face between his hands. “Say you’ll never keep something like that from me again.”
Tears clouded her eyes. “I’ll always protect you, Guy. I won’t promise otherwise.”
“Damned stubborn fool.” His mouth swept over hers in a timeless show of need and domination. She accepted his passion but exerted her own style of dominance. Little by little, she felt her mastery return. Her former self clawed its way back to the surface.
The pressure on her lips soon eased until their mouths were but a hairsbreadth apart, their foreheads resting against each other. “Promise me”—his lips skimmed hers with each syllable—“promise that you’ll bring your suspicions to me the next time. We’ll work through the problem together.”
She kissed him. “You have my word.”
Pulling her into his arms, he said, “There’s hope for you yet, then.”
She reared back, glaring at him. “Label me stubborn if you like, Guy Trevelyan, but my perseverance has saved lives.”
The slight crinkling at the corners of his eyes faded. “For which England is eternally grateful. I, however, am selfish and do not want you placing yourself in danger any longer.”
Mollified, she said, “Then it is good I bashed Valère when I did.”
“What do you mean?” he asked on a half groan, half growl.
“I was waiting for Valère when he came for me.” Even now, several hours later, her body still quivered with the aftershocks of her trepidation.
Deep lines bracketed his mouth. “You attacked him?”
Cora straightened her spine. She tried—Lord knew she tried—but she couldn’t repress the smugness that entered her voice. “Yes.”
His lips thinned. “Cora—”
“If I hadn’t let my guard down for a mere second, he would now be languishing in your cellar at Herrington Park.” Cora’s gaze settled on the room’s single window. Omin
ous black clouds loomed in the distance. “Instead, he’s free to terrorize me and those I love again. He wants to break me, Guy, not kill me. And now that he has my brother and Jack’s sister, he’s the one in control of the game.”
“Game?” he said. “Do you think this is a game? By God, we’re talking about your life here.”
“No, Guy, I don’t think it’s a game, but Valère does,” she stated with as much calm as she could muster. “He will toy with me to the point of insanity; then he will kill everyone I hold dear.”
“No, he will not.”
His hand cradled her jaw, and his thumb fanned over her cheek. The intriguing scent of sweat, horse, and Guy sent tingles to her nose and trembles through her middle. He kissed her forehead. “I will never let you out of my sight again. Not until Valère’s dead.” He pressed his lips to her temple. “Maybe not even then.”
The backs of Cora’s eyes burned. She had no doubt he meant every word, and although it felt good to share the burden of Valère, Cora knew she would eventually chafe under such close scrutiny. But for now, Guy made her feel safe and womanly and loved. Things she hadn’t known in a very long time.
As she lifted her head, Cora fixed a silly, wobbly smile on her face and relaxed a bit when Guy’s tense features did the same. His gaze dipped to the jagged line on her cheek.
Cora’s smile dimmed. She slanted the damaged side of her face away from him.
He cleared his throat. “Here, let’s get you in the tub while the water’s still warm.”
If he thought her face was hideous—“I can manage on my own.”
“I know you can. Lift your skirt, if you please.”
Her jaw firmed. “I do not, please. I endured enough maltreatment while in France.”
He pinned her with his gaze. “Are you comparing me to Valère, Cora?”
His quiet question tore at her conscience. “No, of course not.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” He pried her thumb from between her fingers and then held her hands a little away from her body. “I need to see the extent of your injuries, Cora. I’ll do my best to preserve your modesty.”
Her stomach churned at the mere thought of disrobing in front of Guy. She wouldn’t be able to hide the evidence of Valère’s violence. As much as she tried, she couldn’t block the image of herself standing before Valère in a sheer chemise, his murderous fingers skimming down her breast…
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