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Will grasped his coat from the cart above then ducked underneath. There was barely room for both of them, but the forced proximity would keep them warm. He took his coat and used it as a blanket over her.
“Won’t you be cold?” she asked.
“How can I be cold when I’m pressed against you?”
She laughed and rested her head on the tree trunk behind them. “Even now you are a flirt.”
“I’m still trying to win you over.”
She turned to look at him, her blue eyes mesmerizing. “Will, you won me over practically the first time we met.”
Will stared at her. His words had been offhanded. He’d forgotten about his mission to uncover her role in the assassination attempt on the queen. He’d simply been flirting with a beautiful woman and trying to make the best of a bad situation. But he could see she meant what she said. She had feelings for him, and—God help him—he had feelings for her as well.
He might have berated himself for allowing his emotions to get involved in the mission, but in this moment, he wasn’t certain he’d survive the mission. He wasn’t certain he cared about the mission. He cared about Emily and didn’t want to lose her. Now would be the time to tell her the truth—about who he was and what he was doing.
But doing so would go against his training and his oath to protect his country. And who the hell was he fooling? The truth was, if he told her, he’d lose any chance of becoming more than a passing flirtation, and he wanted so much more with her. Will didn’t trust himself to speak and couldn’t say what he knew he should. Instead he put an arm about her and pulled her close. “Try and stay warm,” he said.
She rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. It was incredibly tempting to exonerate her from any involvement in the plot against the queen. After all, she’d now been shot and was being chased by the queen’s would-be assassins. One might think her a very poor spy indeed to be in a situation where her life was in jeopardy by the very people she was in league with.
Unfortunately, Will had a very skeptical mind. She had been shot, but the wound had been superficial. Did that prove her innocence or was it planned to turn attention away from her?
Now the cutthroats were after the two of them, after having shot at Emily in the coach. There was no longer a need to turn attention away from her, so one had to assume they were trying to kill her—well, they’d been after the queen but didn’t seem to mind collateral damage.
Was that because she was innocent of involvement or because they no longer had a use for her? Perhaps they worried she might reveal their plans and needed to be rid of her before that happened.
After some time had passed, Emily shifted. “I can all but hear you thinking,” she murmured. “Does all of that thinking keep you warm?”
“Not particularly.” Especially not the direction of his thoughts.
“Are you thinking about who might have shot at us and why?”
“Yes,” he answered because it was true in a sense.
“Is it the Irish again?”
“I believe so. The queen no doubt was trying to be kind by sending her coach, but it made us a target.”
Emily straightened. “You mean they thought we were the queen?”
“Yes.”
“But when it was clear we were not, why did they keep trying to kill us?”
“Any number of reasons—so there would not be witnesses, to hurt the queen tangentially if they could not strike at her directly, as a warning of what they are planning.”
“And what are they planning?”
He looked at her. “That should be obvious by now. To kill the queen, overthrow the monarchy, and plunge the government into chaos.”
SOMETHING ABOUT THElook in his eye made her uneasy. She’d been uneasy—frightened half to death, really—since she’d been shot at the picnic. But something about Willoughby Galloway calmed her. He made her feel safe, protected.
But not when he looked at her like that. When he looked at her like that, she could see there was much more to him than the charming scamp. There was sharp intelligence and cunning.
“Do you still suspect the Irish separatists?” she asked carefully.
“I have no reason to think differently. Palmerston’s intelligence pointed to a violent wing of that movement, and it makes sense that if they failed at their first attempt, they would try again.”
“And again.” She bit her lip. He had answered easily enough, but he was being careful with his words. She knew him well enough now to recognize when he was acting with some caution.
