“I will. Are you afraid for me, or for yourself?”
Her gaze dropped and she squeezed her lips together. “I hardly know my father. If it doesn’t involve the fate of England, I don’t believe he’ll truly care.” She shook her head. “Or he might lock me up and arrange a quick marriage, to some rural squire. I don’t know. My brother Bakeley, though, he’s more likely to kill one of us.”
“Bakeley won’t kill hissister.” Fox sat on the chair and pulled on his boots. They were damp on the inside.
“And he won’t kill you. Fox, stay with me tonight. I promise I won’t plague you.”
He went to her then, armored with boots, coats, and trousers and knelt, bracing his hands on each side of her. “You need to rest and I can’t stay. MacEwen will be back soon, in one piece I hope. Gaz and Davy, also. I sent them to retrieve the gelding after they settled Pip. And there’s no telling if Farnsworth may be along behind them.”
She looked down at her hands twined in her lap. “I shall get dressed and come down.” She lifted her chin, mouth dropping open, eyes shining with sudden tears. “Chestnut. Oh dear, I forgot—”
“She’s safe. Pip found her and brought her back.”
“Oh.” She blinked several times. “I’d hoped she would…I sent her off when they captured me. I cannot thank him enough. And you. Thank you for…” She waved a hand.
“I’m going to find some dry clothes, and then I’ll send Jenny up.” He kissed her knuckles and released her. “Rest. Sleep. Tomorrow will be very busy.”
He filled Perry’s vision,moving around the room, picking up and stowing the last of his belongings and his weapons. She gathered her robe around her, cinched the belt, and walked with him to the door.
“Fox.” She went on tiptoes and kissed him, watching his eyes blaze again.
He wanted her. There was pain in him setting her away. He was denying himself out of some notion about class difference, perhaps that she, being an earl’s daughter, was better than him.
She wouldn’t be for long. If he wouldn’t have her, she’d leave England and build her own life. She’d just go about it more sensibly than she had tonight.
For now, she would dare to be brave.
“When you are finished with MacEwen, will you come back to my bed?” she asked.
Desire lit his face, but he said nothing, nor did he need to.
He kissed her forehead. “Rest, Lady Perry.”
He would only marry honorably with Father’s approval. He would expect to have banns called.
Her heart quaked at the thought of a lifetime with Fox. Would he really tell her father everything? And if Father demanded Fox marry her, would he do it? Would she make him happy?
What he wanted with his life, she had no idea. Perhaps he would travel back to America. Perhaps he would go to the Continent and paint. Or perhaps he expected to stay in England and eke out commissions among merchants and gentry. Perhaps her father would send him somewhere else to spy, if he didn’t first challenge him to a duel and shoot him.
And Fox, if he left, might not want her along.
For just a few moments, he’d made her feel warm and almost powerful. Buthe’dmastered her, not the other way around. Certainly, another man would have lost control and let her seduce him.
Thoughts of other men made her skin crawl. She wouldn’t be forced into a loveless marriage. She only wanted Fox.
She closed the door and padded across the carpet to the table. The tea had gone tepid, but she drank some anyway, took a crumble of biscuit, and realized she was starving. She shoved the whole damp mass into her mouth and chewed, groaning.
All of her injuries had come to life when that door closed, and stiffness crept into her shoulders and arms from the fight with the waves.
But between her legs was a satisfying wholeness that echoed in her heart.
“My lady.”
She’d not heard Jenny enter. “Has MacEwen returned?”
“Not yet.” Jenny picked up her discarded trousers and looked at them. “I’ll try to mend this hole in the knee.” She examined the neckcloth. “This is done for, I’m afraid.” She tossed them aside and lifted the lid on the teapot. “And this has gone cold. Are you all right, miss?”
Jenny did not seem at all scandalized. Well, she was a girl from the streets. The memory of his warm hands washed over her.
