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Edward nodded. ‘Yes. I can.’ Needing to change the subject before he did something really stupid, like pledging his life to making her laugh at least once every day, he stepped back, turning to the desk. ‘Hot chocolate.’ Picking up the pot, he turned. ‘Would you like a cup?’

Ivy stared at him for a moment before her gaze dropped. ‘That would be most kind.’

Ivy’s room had as few furnishings as his own.

She took two steps to her left and sat primly on the bed, her posture as proper as any lady taking tea in the most resplendent of parlours.

Edward poured the rich, dark mixture into a cracked teacup and wished he could resurrect Lord Cavendale so he could rip him apart, one piece at a time.

He turned and, with hands shaking, brought Ivy her cup of chocolate.

‘I shall leave you to your solitude.’ The last thing she needed was some brute of a man invading her space.

‘No, stay. Please. Just for a bit. I… I don’t want to be alone.’

Another brick in the wall he built crumbled. Then another. And another until the whole bloody fortification was falling around him.

‘All right.’ The only other seat in her room was the desk chair behind him, so he pulled it closer to the bed.

‘Tell me something about yourself. Something funny. What scrapes did you get into as a boy?’ Ivy sipped her chocolate and licked her top lip.

Edward swallowed the groan rumbling in his chest as he desperately wished to follow her example and lick her mouth.

This is not the time for me to be slobbering after her like some insatiable beast. She needs a distraction from the memories of her father.

He could provide her with that. For the next hour, he regaled her with tales of his youth.

When he was only a boy of seven, he snuck out of the nursery with his sister to be midnight adventurers in the back garden of their country estate, only to be frightened off by a woodcock and caught by their nursemaid.

‘Mrs Quimby was terrifying. My father felt strongly that children should be much like statues. Attractive. Silent. Still. Mrs Quimby endeavoured to make certain we accomplished that task.’

Ivy scrunched her face. ‘That mustn’t have been easy for you.’

Edward’s smile faded. ‘I rather think it was harder for Mrs Quimby than us. My father sacked her when he found Liza in the fountain diving for frogs.’

‘Oh dear.’ Ivy’s eyes sparkled with mischief.

He forced his mind away from his sister.

Even the pleasant memories turned painful, reminding him she was gone.

Instead of lingering on old wounds that still bled, he told Ivy about a case he recently investigated.

An earl was convinced his servant was stealing from him.

After weeks of questioning the entire staff, a terrible storm blew through the countryside.

The winds broke a bough from one of the lord’s ancient oaks.

A young groundsman discovered a cache of hidden treasures in a nest. Cufflinks, gold coins.

Even a diamond ring. The real thief was a cunning magpie.

Ivy burst into laughter, covering her mouth. ‘Did he apologise to the servant?’

Edward ran a hand over his jaw, scratching where the stubble was starting to itch. ‘No.’

‘Ah.’ Ivy’s lips hardened. ‘Of course not. Why would he?’

‘One thing I’ve learned through my work is that honourable titles rarely make honourable men.’

She nodded. ‘But some men are good. Like you.’ Ivy looked away from him, studying the pattern of her chipped teacup with an intensity worthy of an antiquity scholar deciphering Sanskrit.

Edward’s stomach twisted. If only he were deserving of such high praise. ‘No. I’m not. I’ve committed far worse crimes than the earl.’

Ivy caught him with her crystal-blue eyes. ‘What crimes are you guilty of committing? Surely the Commissioner of Scotland Yard is above reproach.’

Exhaling a heavy sigh, Edward shook his head.

‘No one is above reproach. But I shall not burden you with my sins.’ The last thing he wanted was to change the way Ivy was looking at him.

If she knew the truth of what he’d done, she would never be alone in a room with him again.

And damn his selfish soul, he wasn’t ready for that eventuality.

‘It has been a long day. I will leave you to your rest.’

Standing from the desk chair, Edward carefully returned it to its proper place.

Her desk was as neat and tidy as the woman who owned it.

A drastic contrast to his own messy habits.

Reading would approve of Ivy’s commitment to organisation, something Edward had never mastered.

But surely, she had a few messes tucked away somewhere.

A drawer or cupboard full of odds and ends.

Secret spaces of chaos he would love to explore.

Picking up one of her lists, he couldn’t stop the smile.

‘Is this shopping list alphabetised?’

Ivy’s cheeks grew pink, and the blush he loved bloomed on her throat. ‘No. Maybe. It helps to ensure I don’t forget something.’

She stood and placed her cup on the tray, grabbing for the list as he quickly lifted it out of her reach.

She tried again, lunging for him, her expression a mixture of determination and delight.

He switched the list to his other hand behind his back.

This time, when she tried to snatch it, she had to reach around his body, her face only inches from his own.

He wrapped his arm around her waist to steady her as she stumbled, her body flush against his.

As swiftly as wind changing direction, the playful energy shifted.

Ivy bit her lip, her eyes focusing on Edward’s mouth.

He felt her gaze like sun warming his skin.

His body tightened. He knew she could feel his erection.

Not wanting to repeat his earlier mistake, he immediately loosened his arm and stepped back.

‘I don’t want to frighten you, Ivy.’ He couldn’t stand to see the fear in her eyes. Not because of him or his stupid, optimistic cock. ‘But just because my body is… reacting, it doesn’t mean anything will happen. I swear it. Not without your permission.’

She stepped close enough to touch him, tracing the outline of his lips with her soft fingers.

‘I don’t want to be frightened. I hate it.

’ The vehemence in her words echoed through Edward.

He would give anything to destroy her dread.

But this wasn’t his battle. It was hers.

He couldn’t face demons only she could see.

But he could stand with her as she fought them. If she would allow it.

Stuffing the list in his pocket, he ran his hand down her arm in a stroke intending to comfort and pressed his forehead against hers. ‘Sometimes, we have to face the fear. By doing so we discover it isn’t what we thought at all. We light the lamp, and the shadows lose their power to haunt.’

Ivy shifted her head, her soft cheek brushing against his stubbled one. ‘I wasn’t frightened when we were kissing, or at least, not very frightened.’

‘Because you are a woman of incredible courage.’

He could feel the apple of her cheek pressing against his own as she laughed. ‘Hardly.’

Edward ran his hand over her silken hair. ‘Most definitely.’

He was quite certain his body was going to explode with frustrated desire.

But it was worth the glory of feeling Ivy’s firm lips press softly against his jaw.

‘I always thought kissing would be awful. And that was before I knew about tongues being involved. But when you licked me, it was… marvellous. Would I like licking you, I wonder?’

‘Perhaps you should conduct an experiment.’ He could hear the hope in his voice as he held his breath. Waiting. ‘Lick away. See what you think.’

The velvet softness of her wet tongue on his neck created a corresponding sharp pleasure, tightening his spine. The sparking zing coalesced at the base of his back.

This is how I die. My heart will simply explode from beating too bloody hard.

‘Hmmmm. I can understand the appeal.’ Her words brushed over his throat, then her lips pressed against his thundering pulse.

Inspiration struck as his body balanced on the brink of combustion. ‘Mayhap the rest will be similar.’

Pulling back, Ivy frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’

He felt the absence of her warmth but was also grateful for the separation.

She was killing him in increments, and if he was going to keep his promise of not frightening her with the wild fantasies thundering through his mind, space was necessary.

He let his hands fall to his side and took a step back.

‘I went too fast earlier. When I pulled you against me, and you felt…’ Bollocks. Now he was blushing. He couldn’t very well say ‘cock’ in front of Ivy.

‘Millie calls it a cock.’

Or I suppose I can just let Ivy say it for me.

Hearing the vulgar word slip from her perfect mouth, easy as you please, might be one of the more surreal moments Edward had experienced. He couldn’t reflect on it because she was still talking, and he was desperate to hear what she might say next.

‘I’ve heard other words for it.’ She looked away for a moment. ‘But I think cock is rather nice. I’ve always thought they were pretty birds. Much more glamourous than chickens.’

Edward refused to think about whom she had heard those other words from.

Her father.

That vile monster had no place here. Instead, he focused on how charming it was to hear Ivy describe ‘cock’ as a nice word because the barnyard animal it described was glamorous.

Fucking hell.