Page 7

FOUR

H e stood at the window in the front hall and watched until the carriage vanished into the fog. Everything inside him went cold. He was losing her. You never possessed her. She was not yours to lose.

But logic did nothing to push back the endless night that threatened to coalesce at the edge of his senses.

It was always there, lying in wait. The time spent in the temple caves of Fever Island had taken its toll.

The year in the monastery had taught him self-discipline and the dangers of strong passions.

For the most part he had learned to harness the forces of his temperament.

The Principles of the Three Ways had provided him with a sense of structure and control that suited his nature.

He had found what some would describe as a calling, and he had pursued it relentlessly, driven by a quest for answers to a question he still did not understand.

He thought he had made his peace with the darkness. With the exception of the occasional cathartic flash of violence, he had assumed the role of observer. Even during the rare moments of sexual release some part of him was always standing back, watching.

But Ursula had interfered with the carefully constructed and exquisitely balanced order of his world. She made him want more. And desire was the most dangerous force of all.

Webster cleared his throat in a disapproving manner. “Will there be anything else, sir?”

“No, thank you,” Slater said.

He turned away from the view of the street, went back into the library and closed the door.

He stood alone listening to the empty silence for a time, thinking about his first impressions of Ursula Kern.

She had been wearing black from head to toe but the very darkness of her attire had only served to heighten the rich, burnished copper of her auburn hair.

He would never forget the moment when she had raised the veil of her dashing little widow’s hat to reveal an intelligent face made riveting by fiercely brilliant hazel eyes, a strong will and a forceful character.

He had known at once that she was a woman of spirit.

He had savored the knowledge in ways he could not begin to describe— like a damned moth to her flame, he thought.

He sensed that she was a woman who understood the importance of secrets.

A part of him hoped that such a woman might come to understand and accept a man who also kept them.

The press speculated wildly about what he had been doing during the past few years.

Some claimed that he had studied ancient mysteries in foreign lands and learned strange, exotic secrets.

There were rumors that he had discovered astonishing treasures.

Other reports insisted that the experience on Fever Island had rendered him unhinged—possibly quite mad.

The general consensus both in the newspapers and in Society was that he had returned to London with the goal of exacting vengeance.

Not all of the rumors about him were false.