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She had no answer to that except to wish it wasn’t true. Sadly, though, it was true. She did care. She didn’t want him to know that she was homeless—that she had no one and nothing. And she especially didn’t want him to know that she’d once been the daughter of a very rich man who’d left her to rot on the streets like so much unwanted trash. Her mother had been very clear on that point.
Except, all the wanting in the world wasn’t going to change the fact that he’d picked up on a few things she’d hoped he wouldn’t see and had drawn his own conclusions. Correct conclusions. So was there any point in denying it now? She could pretend she had a home and a family, but he’d see through that pretty quickly. He was that kind of man.
So, since pretending was out, Leonie decided on belligerence instead. She stared back at him, daring him to pass judgement on her. ‘And if I am?’
His gaze roamed over her face, irritatingly making the heat in her cheeks deepen even more. ‘And nothing,’ he said at last. ‘It was merely an observation.’
‘Don’t you want to know where and why and how it happened? Whether I’m a drug addict or an alcoholic? Why haven’t I found somewhere to go or a shelter to stay in?’
‘Not particularly.’ His green eyes gleamed. ‘But if you want to tell me any of those things I’m happy to listen.’
That surprised her. She’d been expecting him to push for more information since he’d been so emphatic about her name before. Yet apparently not.
A strange feeling settled in her gut. Almost as if she’d wanted him to ask so she could tell him and was disappointed that he hadn’t.
To cover her surprise, she reached for another piece of bread, spreading it liberally with the delicious butter and eating it in slow, careful bites.
‘I’ll have Camille make sure you get enough to eat,’ he said after a moment. ‘I won’t have you going hungry here.’
She swallowed the last bit of bread. ‘Don’t tell her—’
‘I won’t. Your secret’s safe with me.’
She didn’t want it to be reassuring, yet it was. Not that she cared about what Camille thought, but still... Questions would be asked and she didn’t want questions. She didn’t want to have to explain her situation to anyone—including this powerful, yet oddly reassuring duke.
He could protect you.
The thought was a discomforting one. She’d protected herself well enough for nearly six years, so why would she need him?
You need someone, though.
No, she didn’t.
She picked up her wine and took another sip, allowing the rich, dark flavour to settle on her tongue. It made her a little dizzy, but she didn’t mind that.
He began to ask her a few more questions, though these were solely about how she’d found the work today and whether she had what she needed to do her job, so she answered them. Then they had a discussion about what other tasks she might like to tackle and how she’d prefer to be paid—cash, since she didn’t have a bank account.
The conversation wasn’t personal, his questions were not intrusive, and he didn’t make any more of those unexpected movements. And after maybe another half an hour had passed his phone went. Since it was apparently urgent, he excused himself to answer it.
Leonie settled back in the chair and finished her wine. It was very warm in the room, and she was very full, and since they were both sensations she had almost never felt she wanted to enjoy them for a little while.
The deep, rich sound of his voice as he talked to whoever he was talking to was lulling her. There was warmth and texture to that voice, and it was comforting in a way she couldn’t describe.
Maybe it was that voice. Or maybe it was the wine and food. Maybe it was fire crackling pleasantly in the fireplace. Or maybe it was simply the fact that she’d barely slept a wink the night before, but she found her eyes beginning to close.
It took a lot of effort to keep them open.
Too much effort.
She closed them, all her muscles relaxing, along with her ever-present vigilance.
And then she fell asleep.
At some point she became aware that she was in someone’s arms and was being carried somewhere. Normally that would have been enough to have her struggling wildly and waking up. But a familiar warm and spicy scent wound around her, and a comforting heat against her side was easing her instinctive panic.
And instead of struggling she relaxed. Letting the heat and that familiar scent soothe her. Feeling those arms tighten around her.
Where she was being carried, she didn’t know, and a minute or so later she didn’t care.
