Page 73 of An Extraordinary Lord

He didn’t mean to upset her. But it was either venture down this path or declare that he loved her, and this path had less chance of giving them both apoplexy.

He frowned at the flash of pain on her face. Perhaps not.

“A man came after me tonight at the Court of Miracles.” Her voice was so low that he could barely hear her.

Christ.He’d put her into danger, and self-recrimination pierced him. “Because the men there learned who I truly am?”

“No. This man wasn’t one of Filipe’s. He was there because of the riots.” She placed her hand flat against his chest and right over his heart. “He knew I’d been asking about them.” Her fingertips curled into his muscle, and her gaze pinned there, avoiding his. “He came to kill me.”

He clamped his hand over hers and squeezed her fingers. Hard. As they trembled in his, he’d never felt more helpless in his life except for the night Joanna died.Damnation!Would he ever be able to protect the women he cared about?

“What happened?” he urged quietly.

She shrugged a bare shoulder. “He didn’t succeed.”

“Obviously.” Her nonchalance did nothing to untie the roiling knot of worry in his belly. He took her chin and gently lifted her face until she looked directly at him. “What happened, Veronica?”

She blew out an aggravated sigh. “The man was in my room—in my corner of the warehouse, that is,” she corrected. Her gaze traveled around his bedroom. The unspoken comparison between there and here, her life and his, was tangible in that glance. “He was threatening me, holding Ivy at knifepoint…”

As she casually rushed past specific details, icy fear licked knowingly at the backs of his knees at what she wasn’t admitting—she’d been lucky to escape with her life.

“Filipe heard us and killed the man.” Another shrug, as if death were as commonplace in her world as buying eggs in the market. She’d admitted tonight that she’d killed men in the war, but…Jesus. “Then I disposed of the body.”

“How?”

“I left it in a nearby alley.”

“That’s how you got blood on you,” he murmured, and she nodded.

The life she must have led to be able to dismiss such horrible things so lightly, the inner strength she must possess to simply keep going—good God. He’d never met another woman like her.

“Who was he?” He laced his fingers through hers to keep her hand on his chest and searched her face for answers. “Had you ever seen him before?”

“No. I would have remembered him.” Her gaze dropped to their entwined hands. “But he had a tattoo—the same key design as the pin General Liggett was wearing on his uniform. Do you think they’re connected?”

“Most likely just a coincidence.” Liggett might have been a deplorable human being, but sending an assassin after a woman wasn’t his style. There was no glory to be won in it.

“But you’ll check into it.”

Not a question, he noted. Already she knew him well enough to realize he planned on doing exactly that. But troubled thoughts warred inside him…pleasure that they’d grown so close, doubts that he could keep her safe.

So he answered the only way he could, by reassuringly touching his lips to hers.

“I’m sorry about the dress,” she said softly, embarrassed. “I know it cost a great deal. I’ll find a way to repay you for it—and for all the other clothes.” She rolled over onto her back and whispered up into the darkness, “But it might take a while.”

He shifted over on top of her. “They’re a gift. Keep them and wear them. Or sell them and use the money to buy yourself what every smart woman longs to have.”

“What’s that?”

He grinned. “A new sword. One to match every dress.” He nuzzled the side of her neck in an attempt to distract her from the darkness of their earlier conversation. “Like bonnets.”

She laughed. That wonderful sound once more wound around him like a silk ribbon, tying him to her. He knew then that she would be all right.Thank God.

But her laughter died away. “I had to leave everything behind at the Court when I left.” Guilt filled the silent pause. “Including the earrings you gave me.”

Somehow he managed to keep his face passive. He shouldn’t have been surprised that she’d figured it out, a woman as sharp as she was. Yet he feigned ignorance. “What earrings?”

The chastising look she shot him would have done a nun proud. “You might be an amazing lover, Mrs. Fitzherbert, but you’re a terrible actress. I know you plotted with Claudia to give them to me. What I don’t understand is why.” She reached up to touch his cheek, a caress of gratitude edged with frustration. “Was it because you didn’t want to be known as a barrister who gives jewelry to criminals?”