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“No. I admire it. But I'm not the issue here. The killer is. He'll use your vulnerability to his advantage. If he so much as senses the intensity of your feelings for Lady Breanna, it will make things worse for her. Don't let him know how much she means to you, my lord. Don't.”
Hibbert’s words echoed in Royce's head all evening. He knew his friend was right. The worst thing he could do was alert the killer to his feelings. Lord only knew what kind of leverage that would provide.
Which meant only one thing.
Royce had to keep his distance from Breanna. Not just when they ventured outside or stood near windows, in full view of the world, but inside, as well. The killer's latest message had made it clear he had access to the house—a taunt that might or might not be true. Consequently, Royce couldn't take chances. Moments such as the one he and Breanna had shared earlier had to cease.
Except in one place: her bedroom.
It was the only detail Royce was convinced the killer hadn't yet discovered—that Breanna was sleeping in different quarters. He, Damen, and Wells had been careful to continue making her room look lived in, especially at night. Obviously, they'd been successful. The assassin's actions, or lack thereof, told them that. If he'd been aware of the switch, his arrogance would have insisted he throw it in their faces. He'd either have invaded Breanna's new quarters or at least made some terrifying reference to doing so in his notes.
He hadn't.
Which meant he didn't know. And that meant that Royce and Breanna still had the nights. Starting with tonight.
Royce didn't even bother dragging a chair into the hallway when he positioned himself outside Breanna's door. He was far too restless, too fidgety, too rife with energy to sit still.
He was also frantic to hold Breanna in his arms.
He spent the first part of the night pacing outside her door. And the minute the house fell silent, he reached for the door handle, let himself in.
Breanna was sitting on the bed, sketching by the thin filaments of moonlight that drifted through the window. Other than that and the glow of a crackling fire, the room was unlit, cast in shadows.
For safety.
And for him.
She looked up when he entered, putting aside her sketchpad and rising to her feet. “I'm glad you're here.”
Royce caught his breath. She was wearing only a thin nigh trail and robe, both of a sheer ivory silk, the lacy edges of the robe barely touching, loosely tied.
She smiled, reaching up to tug the first pin out of her upswept hair. “I left this task for you,” she added softly.
Restless energy exploded into raw hunger.
Royce turned the key in the lock with such force he wondered if he'd snapped it in two.
He hoped so. In that case, they could stay here, locked away together, forever.
He couldn't stop staring at her. Staunchly, he fought to control the tidal wave of desire that surged through him, all his earlier tension converging, crashing through his loins.
“Royce?” Breanna took a step toward him, opened her arms.
Restraint vanished.
Royce scarcely remembered closing the distance between them. All he knew was dragging Breanna against him, seizing her mouth with more urgency than he knew he possessed. He tugged the pins from her hair, gathering handfuls of it as he continued kissing her. Her robe dropped to the floor, her nigh trail followed, and Royce savored the exquisite silkiness of her skin as he lifted her, placed her on the bed.
He felt her fingers on the buttons of his waistcoat, but he couldn't wait. Stepping away, he tore off his clothes, coming down over her the instant he was naked.
Breanna let out a soft moan of pleasure, rubbing her breasts against his powerful, hair-roughened chest. She clung to him, understanding and sharing his urgency, wanting to savor every moment, to savor him, yet frantic to feel him inside her.
“Later,” he muttered, answering the contacting emotions waging inside her. “We'll go slowly later. Now, I've got to have you.” He was already wedging her thighs apart.
She felt him tense, as if remembering how new this was to her, and her breath caught as his fingers found her, slid inside to assure him of her readiness.
She was more than ready for him.
Royce shuddered heavily as he encountered her satiny wetness, stroked her softly.
