Morgan sank to his knees as well, drawing all three of them into his arms. “I’m sorry that you were worried. I should have talked to you more before I left. I was just in such a hurry to find Mrs. Bohannan.”
Fiona allowed herself to relax into the embrace, feeling more a part of a family than she ever had in her life. She loved this man. She loved these children.
Why had she picked a brothel owned by Winters for her latest mission as Prometheus? Things could have been so perfect if only she hadn’t been so foolish.
Blinking away a new rush of tears, she finally extricated herself from all three of them and stood, swaying a bit on her feet.
Morgan surged to his feet as well. “Let me get Mrs. Bohannan settled. She’s staying with us tonight,” he told the children.
She vaguely heard their cries of happiness at the news as Morgan led her up the stairs and then down a long hallway, stopping in front of one door, then seeming to think better of it and continuing down to another.
When she stepped inside the room, she caught her breath. The bedchamber was huge, decorated in shades of peach and gold, with a white marble fireplace and a large bed. He walked over and opened yet another door, which led to a private bathing room with a claw-footed tub and water closet.
“I’ll run you a bath and leave you soaking,” he said, turning the knobs and sending a spray of steaming water into the tub. “Meanwhile, I’ll send a servant to freshen up the room and light a fire. I’ll also have them bring you some of Anne’s nightclothes, if that’s all right with you?”
She nodded mutely, still in awe at the thought of hot water whenever she wanted it without the hard work of heating it on a stove and then lugging it all the way to the bath. She’d known such luxury existed but had never actually experienced it herself.
He pressed a kiss to her forehead, then shut the door behind him.
With a sigh, she stripped and lowered herself into the hot water, hoping it would wash away some of the ugliness of the day.
As she drifted in the warm embrace of the tub, her thoughts began to clear, and for the first time, she began to think about the ramifications of what she’d done tonight. Although it had been self-defense, she’d killed a man. An earl, no less.
Cold fear welled within her as thought of what this could mean. Would she be arrested? There seemed to be a very good chance that she could be. Winters had been an aristocrat, and she was... no one. An ex-prostitute.
The Strathmores might speak on her behalf, but would the authorities even listen?
She shuddered at the thought of prison, and for a moment, the urge to run was so strong it overwhelmed her. Maybe she should just leave London, leave Morgan and Brookhaven, go somewhere far away where her past and the horror of the present couldn’t touch her.
But as quickly as the thought came, she abandoned it. Without her role at Brookhaven, what would she be? She’d built a life here, and she couldn’t imagine doing anything else.
She had to pay the consequences for her actions, no matter what they might be.
* * *
MORGAN LEANED AGAINSTthe washroom door, his heart pounding in his chest at the thought of Fiona naked in the tub. He had no idea what he was doing, no idea why he’d brought her here, other than the fact that he’d just needed to have her at his side. He wanted to take care of her, and he wanted her in his house.
He’d almost put her in Anne’s old room, which adjoined his own. But at the last moment, that had seemed too much. He’d worried what the children would think, worried how she’d react to finding herself among Anne’s old things, which he’d not yet had the heart to go through and clear out.
That moment in the foyer had rocked him to the core. It had been everything he’d wanted. But she’d seemed flustered by it, and why wouldn’t she be? Could he really expect her to mother his three children? That was a lot for any woman to take on, especially one who had the safety and care of so many others already on her plate.
And now, she knew the worst of him, that he had committed murder. That he’d been to blame for all the terrible things that Winters had done to his family. How could she still care for him after everything she’d learned?
With a groan, he scrubbed his hands over his face, the ugliness and terror of the day washing over him in a crippling wave.
Sleep had never beckoned so sweetly.
But too much still needed to be done.
He pushed away from the door and went back downstairs, instructing the butler to send someone up to help Fiona while he put the children to bed and calmed their fears. He couldn’t help but notice the excitement in their eyes at the fact that Fiona was staying the night.
They needed mothering so desperately, and he felt he’d failed them in every possible respect. As he hugged Felicity to him tightly, he remembered once more that it had been Fiona who’d cared for her in those dark days after Anne’s death. He owed her so much. If not for her, he’d still be mired in his grief, unable to function enough to be a good father, a good person.
At last, he went to his own room and bathed, washing away the stress and grime of the day. Pulling on a heavy robe, he belted it around his waist and then slipped into the hallway, making his way to the Gold Room. He stared at the door, knowing he should just leave Fiona in peace tonight. She’d been through so much...
Still, the thought of holding her in his arms, offering her whatever comfort he could while hopefully receiving some as well, was too powerful to resist. He knocked lightly.
Long moments passed before she finally opened it a crack, peering out at him. Her scent, an intriguing blend of vanilla and spices and warm, freshly bathed woman hit him, and a surge of desire left him tingling in its wake.
