But a scarf loosely covered her neck, making his gut clench.
He reached for her with his free hand, and she looked up.
“I need to be a part of this, Fox.”
The plate rattled onto the table. He draped an arm around her, unable to stop from touching her. “You already are.” And he hated it, hated the danger she was in, hated that he couldn’t deny her anything. “But I’m afraid your participation may only last until your father arrives.”
“We have some time. He’ll stay in London during the coronation.” She turned fully into his arms. “We need to talk.”
He dropped his arm and stepped back. He wouldn’t take her maidenhead and have her go into an arranged marriage facing another man’s shaming.
Her shoulders lifted in a big sigh. “We need to talk about who killed my mother. We need to talk about why Gregory Carvelle is here. We need to talk about these assassins.”
The corner of her mouth tilted up. “When you left me tonight, all I could think about was you coming back to my bed. And then Jenny reminded me, we have a mystery to solve. Three mysteries.”
His heart swelled and pounded.We.He liked that.
He loved her.
He was every kind of fool, and so was she if he thought he’d let her chase villains with him. “Tell me what happened on that road.”
She stepped back and framed her hips with her hands, her elbows akimbo.
“You first. How did you happen to come after me? And why didn’t you rescue us sooner?”
The darkness reared up again slamming him with his guilt and unworthiness. He would never be good enough for her. He drained his brandy glass and poured another.
When he dared to look, her eyes were dark pools.
“Mind you.” She cleared her throat. “Mind you, I was every kind of fool for running off like that.”
She’d reached into his mind and stolen his words.
“And I’m so very grateful to you for shooting that man and for fishing us out of the water. And for…” she took in a shallow little breath, “and for showing me the…pleasure of love.”
Blood raced through his body, pounded in his ears and hurried south.Take her, his cock screamed, and his legs yelled,Run.
Almost swiving was not love, he wanted to say, condescendingly, the way he’d always kept her at bay.
She stepped back, crossing her arms over her chest, and suddenly she was a girl again, defensive, defiant, drawn-in, as if she’d heard his sarcasm before it left his tongue.
He touched her shoulder. “Wait.” The chair was too far for them to reach and sit without having to release her. If he drew her in closer he’d give in to the urge to kiss her. “I was going out to look for you when Pip came walking into the yard with Chestnut. Pip was on that road, delivering a message to Scruggs’s men coming up from Scarborough. I assumed they were the ones who’d taken you. So, when we got close, I hid the gelding as far off the road as possible and sent Pip on with the message.”
Her gaze flitted over his eyes, looking for lies and omissions.
“I was wrong.” He circled his thumb in the hollow next to her shoulder. “Those weren’t Scruggs’s men.”
Her white teeth worried her lower lip for a moment. “What was Pip’s message?”
“John Black was coming.”
She shook her head slowly. “Yes. I remember now. Pip told the men. John Black. I’ve heard of him.”
“He was a smuggling lord in these parts. Brutal when crossed. He was transported last year.”
Her eyes went wide. “And he’s back?”
“I imagine the real John Black never left England.”
