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Could she trust him? That was the main question. Or should she rely only on herself?

“Do you know where he is held?” he asked.

She shook her head instinctively, then stopped mid-shake. “No, but I might have an idea.” An idea was starting to form in her mind—raw, fresh, and not fully fleshed out, but perhaps…

“If I save him,” he said, his voice steady and sure, “then you know you can trust me, and you will tell me everything you know about the Cardinal, yes?”

Leila met his gaze, searching for any sign of deception. All she saw was determination and something that might have been hope.

“You will help me kill the Cardinal,” he continued. “Can you do that?”

Leila nodded cautiously. “I can.”

Chapter 11

Gideon carefully undid her restraints, and she immediately rubbed her wrists.

“I give you only one warning,” he said, already second-guessing his decision to trust her. “If you try to run or betray me in any way, I won’t be this generous next time.”

“This was you being generous?” She showed him her pinkened wrists, and he stifled a grimace. He hadn’t tied the curtain cords too tightly—just enough to prevent her escape. But her pink wrists were the result of her struggle against the restraints; not that he could blame her.

He refused to show that her pain affected him, though. So he said, “Absolutely.”

“Very well.” She stood up. “But before we go anywhere, I need to change out of this gown. I can’t ride in it, and I can barely walk in it without tripping.”

He nodded. “What do you need?”

She frowned in thought, looking down at her clothes and then at his. “Something similar to what you’re wearing.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You want to wear breeches?”

“Is that what it’s called? In my country, both women and men wear şalvar. They look far more comfortable than your…” She paused. “Breeches. At least they’re not the millions of skirts that your women wear.”

“Fine,” Gideon agreed. “I will get you breeches, although they won’t fit perfectly. Anything else?”

She contemplated his clothing for a moment. “Anything else I’d need to be comfortable in… breeches.”

A few minutes later, after Gideon had fetched her a stable boy’s washed and pressed clothing—breeches, a shirt, a cloak, and a hat—they mounted a single horse, as Gideon would not let her gallop away unattended, and rode toward the outskirts of town.

He sat behind her, his thighs flanking hers, one arm wrapped around her middle while the other held the reins.

Her back pressed against his chest and belly, and though her hair was braided, a few strands still whipped him in the face.

Was he mad to trust her?

Something in him did trust her, against all logic and experience. Perhaps he was wrong to believe her, to let his feelings for her jeopardize his revenge for his wife’s and daughters’ murders.

The thought sent a stab of guilt through his chest. Sarah and their little girls’ faces flashed before his eyes, as they did every night in his dreams, but they were fainter now. He barely remembered what they looked like.

He had sworn on their graves that he would find every member of the Brotherhood and make them pay. And yet here he was, allowing Leila to potentially deceive him and lead him into a trap.

He could see she was desperate; that much was true. He believed she cared for her brother. The distress in her eyes was real when she spoke of him.

But beyond that, he couldn’t identify where the truth ended and the lies began. He needed to be careful.

But what else did he have? He had exhausted his list of Brotherhood members. He had killed everyone he’d identified and had asked all of them for the names of other members or the name of their leader. Some relented, but no one led him to the Cardinal. Now he had one single chance to finally reach him.

He wasn’t going to pass on that opportunity.