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“No?” And then her delicate fist was up in his face. “No?” But she dropped it again, her eyes taking on a wicked glint in the fading light. “Do you want to know why?”
“Why?” he asked, crinkling his brow.
“Because. You. Need. Me.” She punctuated each word with a poke to the chest. He caught her finger to try to stop the unpleasant sensation and perhaps also cease the incessant pull toward her.
“No. Absolutely not.” Hadn’t he been clear about the danger?
“So, what? I spend my life alone? I won’t marry. I’ll just continue to write silly pieces about the world I once lived in and now don’t? Until I die?” She shook her head. “That’s no life.”
“But it’s life,” he said and then he did it again. He grabbed her by the waist, pulling her close. “I need to know you’ll live. It’s what I fight for still.”
But he’d gone and done it. He’d told her just how deeply he cared. And he felt her soften. “Don’t you remember?” she asked. “We’re better together. I hate to tell you this, but we were always meant to be a team. You’re a skilled fighter and naturally athletic, but…”
He let out a huff. She’d always been ridiculously good at riddles. At solving problems and dissecting information. She figured out information faster than him, saw the details with a broader scope, and was quick-witted in sticky conversations. Still, he couldn’t place her in any danger. “I can’t risk your life. I won’t.”
“And I can’t continue to live a half life alone. I won’t.” And then Rebecca delivered the final blow. She lifted on tiptoe and placed her lips against his, giving a gentle brush of her mouth. It was the way they’d kissed in their tender moments before…everything.
But with her mouth on his, it was impossible to say no. He breathed her in, bringing her close as he rested his forehead against hers. “Bec. I don’t want to lose you. That’s what we didn’t understand all those years ago. The world is a horribly dangerous place and—”
“Ben,” she whispered. “You think I don’t know that already? I won’t be kept out of your life any longer. Either let me help you or risk me working on the investigation alone. There is no other choice.”
“Stubborn minx,” he murmured, half loving that about her and half frightened out of his wits. His own death he could face, but hers? Never. “Make me a deal. I’ll go through the evidence with you, but you’ll stay away from the field. I can’t risk you being hurt.”
“I’ll go through the evidence.” She nodded as she slid a hand over the stubble of his cheek. “And then we can discuss what happens next…after the investigation.”
His jaw tightened. He knew what that meant. But he’d not allow her to fall into harm’s way. He’d hogtie her to a chair first. Or perhaps the bed…
But either way, he’d keep Rebecca safe—or die trying.
CHAPTER FOUR
Rebecca followedBennet as they stepped over the threshold of his tiny lodgings and grimaced. It was awful…
Even though his back covered most of the view, she could see that the room was small, flea-ridden, and in disrepair. The entire building had the odor of rot permeating the atmosphere within it. “Bennet,” she whispered when he stopped, her voice expressing her worry.
He turned, placing a hand on her upper arm. “It keeps the rain out.”
“Does it truly?” It looked as though it likely leaked, and the room was cast in the growing darkness. How did it appear in the light?
“The thing about being dead,” he said as he let out a long breath, “is this is the best I could afford.”
“Tell me you at least still get paid for being an agent of the crown?”
“I do, but most of that money”—he paused, moving to her right so that she could step up next to him—“goes back into the investigation. I have hopes of getting my life back, you see.”
His life back? She supposed he could just slide back into the role of marquess. But what of the two of them? Was she just toallow him to slip back into the role of her fiancé? Rebecca shook her head. She couldn’t even begin to make a decision on that front. “Show me everything.”
With a quick nod, he moved to her other side, skirting close to her in the small space. She felt his breath caress her cheeks as he looked down at her, and his body passed close enough that her nipples tightened and her breath held in her lungs.
But then he passed by her, and closing the door, he carefully drew back a loose piece of trim around the entrance. From a small hollow, he pulled out a thick envelope before he took two steps toward the table, where he set the papers down. “It’s all here.”
For the next two hours, she pored over every note he’d ever taken, every map he’d drawn, the list of names he’d collected, the schedule of deliveries he’d tracked—all of it.
He had very little furniture besides the bed pushing into one corner, which she did her best to ignore. He had a table and single chair, both worn from many hands, though the surface had been scrubbed clean. Rather than lowering himself to the chair, he perched on one corner of the table and watched her work.
At some point he left and came back with two bowls of what she thought might be beef stew. Though it tasted like nothing, she ate as she worked anyway, hoping that the thin broth would provide some sort of sustenance for her mind.
When she’d finished, she looked up at him. “So, you know where they’ll deliver next.”
