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“Indeed I am not, though I do feel I am being used. I assume when this is over, the courtship will be broken off. I am merely a chess piece sacrificed for the longer game.”
He dropped his hand from her chin then used one finger to trace her hairline from her forehead to behind her ear leaving a line of pure sensation that added to the raging furnace at her core. “If it is your wish, the courtship could be broken off when your duties are done. I, however, intend to marry you.”
Her head jerked up bringing them eye to eye. She swallowed, her throat thick and dry though her body was a molten mess. “I am too young, a mere twenty years.”
“You told me you were betrothed before.”
“That was different. It was business.”
“This too is business, the important business of keeping our joined nations safe, and we are in the fortunate position of combining national business with personal desire. We have no choice but to play our parts for now. As for the future, I am prepared to wait, to woo you properly and give you time to grow accustomed to the idea. I do not plan to marry you until you feel the same way as I do, until you burn to have me the way I burn for you.”
She gulped as he leaned in closer and placed a delicate kiss in the notch at the base of her neck. Her neck, her ears, her whole face was burning. “I do not plan on marrying anyone, ever.”
“That is not what your body says. Is it Lucinda?” He rolled her name slowly and sensuously off his tongue as though savoring every syllable with his mouth. She quivered as she watched his lips form her name, an act as intimate as being drawn into his arms. Why did she feel this undertow between them when she really did not care for the man? So arrogant. So…so sure of his own opinions and demands and yet… “Life is rarely ever what we planned Lucinda.”
Curse the man for using her name like that. If he kissed her, she would not be able to stop. Her body screamed at her to gallop recklessly ahead, but Robert McCrae took a tiny step back. He looked at her with the cooling benefit of a little more distance, the twinkle of mild amusement returning to his eyes.
“Could we get to business please,” she said, sliding down from the bench and adjusting her hair.
His face broke into a grin. “I thought you would never ask.”
“Not that kind of business,” she retorted.
“Oh how I love that look.” She folded her arms and nodded at the quill.
“Your quill. Your paper. I assume you need to write this report.” She pointed to the other bench. “You take the stool. I will stay here. We have serious matters to discuss, like the attacks on my friends.”
“Did the friendship arise before or after the attacks?”
“After,” she said. “Why does it matter?” He did that far too well, tricking her into revealing something she had not intended to reveal.
“Well if they were your friends before the attacks began, then there could be a link through you.”
“Oh. Do you think it possible?”
“Possible but not probable, since you only became friends after the fact.”
After the fact.
Such a feeble way to describe something so heinous.
Like most shameful secrets it was never named for what it was.
“Can you tell me more about these women?” McRae said in a gentle voice that was meant to appease her, but she was in no mood to be appeased.
“I told your uncle I will not reveal the identity of the women, but I will tell you the circumstances of each attack.”
“Then please start talking and tell me what you know. We can discuss our courtship later.” To which she rolled her eyes.
“Do you see this rope?” she said reaching up to a shelf behind her head and pulling down the rope used in the attacks on Lizzie and Maud. “Does it look familiar?”
His eyes narrowed and his head whipped around. “Where did you get that?”
“This is the rope that links all the attacks. The ropemaker you followed me to a few weeks prior is where it was purchased. It is quite distinctive, and they assure me they are the only rope seller that imports this particular type of rope.”
The twinkle in McCrae’s eye had well and truly vanished and was now replaced by a tight set to his jaw and face. “Start at the beginning and tell me everything, no matter how minor a detail. You are right. The rope is familiar. It is the same as the rope that bound my sister’s hands.” McCrae’s own hands were both clenched tightly, one around the quill, the other into a tight fist. “I was too young to save my mother all those years ago, but I swear I shall find this whoreson bastard if it is the last thing I ever do.”
“We shall find him,” Lucinda corrected. “And then what?”
