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“What’s happened tonight . . .” he started to say.

“Was inevitable.”

It was same word she’d used when he kissed her in her workroom. The way she said it had made it sound like a mistake, but that wasn’t tonight. Tonight had been intentional.

“You like that word, don’t you? It means that you can do what you like without having to face the fact that you wanted this enough that you hoped for it,” he said.

She jerked a little, her natural defenses no doubt rankled by this gentle admonition.

“We didn’t just fall into bed tonight because we’ve done this before, Lavinia,” he said slowly. His old distrust of her was hard to shake but he wanted to be free of it—oh, did he want to—if only to recapture something of what they’d lost and look ahead to the future.

After a moment’s consideration, she said, “No.”

“And we didn’t just have sex because you spent most of the evening in danger and I wanted to hit something.”

“Did you?” she asked, trailing her finger across his chest.

“Yes. I was convinced that something had happened to you and like a brute, it was the only thing I could think to do.”

There had been a time long ago when he would’ve moved heaven and earth if it had suited her whim and, although he’d never tell her, he was beginning to remember what that devotion had felt like. Powerful. Awe-inspiring. Terrifying.

Moving with the grace of a selkie sliding through dark waters, she twisted and rolled on top of him. Pressing up on her hands, she let her hair spill over her shoulders as she looked down at him. His breath caught in his throat. He’d been wrong when he’d thought—hoped—that age would in any way diminish her looks. Instead, maturity had changed her from merely pretty into a breathtaking, soul-stirring beauty, one who rendered him defenseless. He was a man who’d done things in the service of the War Office that would haunt his nightmares for the rest of his life, but this woman he’d known his entire life could still slay him with a simple look.

“I think, Andrew Colter,” she said, a smile tipping her lips, “that it’s time to reassure you that I’m not only alive, but very well.”

And that was exactly what she did.

Chapter Fourteen

LAVINIA PULLED HER cloak a little tighter around her as she darted to the back door of her shop. It was absurd to be a woman of thirty-two sneaking around like she had when she was just sixteen, but it was thrilling too.

The previous evening had whipped her between fear and ecstasy in a way that she could scarcely keep up with. Nearly getting caught by Wark had terrified her, true, but she couldn’t deny the thrill of doing something. For years she’d done exactly what she should, building her business, taking care of her brother, never putting a foot wrong. It had been exciting to toe the line of danger even if she wasn’t sure that anything she’d found out that evening would be of help to the cause.

More than anything, however, the evening had been worth it for the expression on Andrew’s face when she’d burst through the door bearing those slips of paper. He’d looked at her with such relief and perhaps a little joy too. That was the reason she’d slid so easily into his arms. It had been too long since any man had lit up when she walked into a room, happy that she was there.

And oh, what a wonder it had been falling back into letting him love her body. It wasn’t just that he’d remembered the things that could make her purr and cry out in swift succession. Just as she had, he’d become a more experienced lover, schooled by need over the years. She might’ve expected that it would make her jealous, but instead it excited her. This was the Andrew she’d known and the Andrew she’d never imagined.

A little smile played on her lips as she pulled out her key and let herself into the kitchen of her shop, swiftly closing the door behind her.

“It’s nearly five o’clock.”

Lavinia whipped around with a gasp. Her brother, a man who rarely rose before nine, was seated in a chair before the stove.

“Caleb, what are you doing here?” she asked, her hand pressed against her chest to try to still the rapid beating of her heart.

Her brother toyed with the handle of a teacup set out in front of him. “I haven’t gone to bed. And neither have you.”

“But you left,” she said.

“I came back thinking that if Wark ran you home in his carriage, he might try something.”

She sighed. Caleb, misguided though he might sometimes be, had been trying to protect her.

“Aren’t you cold?” she asked, frowning at the stove. The embers had died down and there was hardly any coal in the scuttle. Normally Lavinia would refill it each morning after raking out the stove, and it appeared Caleb hadn’t bothered to do it. Or maybe he didn’t know how.

“What will the neighbors think of your sneaking back home at five o’clock in the morning?” her brother asked.

“That I’ve had a jolly time wherever I’ve been,” she said in jest, but all it did was draw his lips into an even tighter grimace.