Page 33

“What were you thinking, running off like that?” he said.

Relief gave sharpness to his voice that he didn’t intend.

“Don’t you know the danger you were in?” He realized as soon as the words left his mouth that it was the wrong tack to take but his fear for her scrambled his brain, robbing him of his usual powers of speech.

She looked up, her eyes blazing. “I am well aware of the danger.” She gave a short, humorless huff of laughter. “I’ve discovered safety is a luxury I can’t afford.” She wrapped her hands around her middle, the tremor in her hands giving lie to her anger. She’d been alone. Scared.

“Oh, Sara,” he whispered, stepping closer. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.” He raised his arms, his hands hovering for a moment near her shoulders. Giving her the chance to move away.

She sighed, a catch in her breath, and leaned forward.

It was all the permission he needed to gather her close, smoothing his hands down her back and feeling the tense muscles relax.

She buried her face in his shoulder with a shudder, melting against him.

For a long moment, he stood perfectly still, savoring the feel of her in his arms. Safe. Thank God.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, their embrace changed.

She shifted against him, and he became aware of the shape of her through the layers of their clothing.

A wave of heat rolled over him that blocked the icy November wind.

His hands swept up, learning the contours of her back and coming up to play with the silky wisps of hair at the nape of her neck.

She melted beneath his touch, her body pressing even closer to his.

He didn’t understand the danger until he bent his head, and his lips brushed the velvety skin of her neck.

The touch jolted him, and she gasped. He lifted his head to look into her eyes.

Scanning her face, he saw the fear was gone from her eyes, replaced by a soft warmth that lingered in her gaze and the gentle curve of her mouth.

He didn’t contemplate the consequences. Leaning forward, he touched his lips to hers for the space of a heartbeat. Hers were just as soft as he’d imagined, moving beneath his in a slow response that sent the blood pumping through his veins.

A moan from the unconscious figure a few feet away called him back to reality. He froze and Sara took a hasty step back, pulling out of his arms.

He looked down, seeing in her eyes the same shock he was feeling. What was he doing? They were in a dank mew in the seediest part of the city, her former assaulter at their feet. And with one kiss, he’d forgotten all of it.

“I... I apologize. I can’t think—” James scrambled for words, her silent, searing gaze unnerving him. He cleared his throat, regrouping, just as he would after an unexpected counterargument. “Please, let us forget this happened.”

The soft, warm look in her eyes faded, her chin taking on its former stubborn tilt. “Of course.” Her eyes dropped to the ground, her voice so low he had to strain to hear it.

The sound of a carriage in the mews was a blessed distraction, as was Henry’s spry form, high up on the seat with the driver.

“C’mon, guv. Better hoof it before he wakes up.” Henry gestured to the crumpled form of the tavern keeper, who was beginning to stir.

James grabbed Sara’s hand, pulling her to the narrow roadway. Somehow, Henry had managed to find them a covered carriage that was relatively clean. The boy was a wonder. James bundled Sara into the cab, jumping in behind her as soon as he’d given the driver his direction.

James sent her an uncertain glance. She sat upright, her back not touching the leather squabs, her hands clenched tight in her lap. The flush in her cheeks was the only sign of what had passed between them.

He cleared his throat. Should he apologize again?

He couldn’t say he was sorry for the most perfect kiss of his life.

Then again, he might have offended her. He tried to read her expression, but her chin was tucked low, her eyes stubbornly trained on her hands.

Silence stretched between them as the carriage left the mews and joined the main thoroughfare north.

Suddenly, she gasped and turned to him. “I need to go back.” There was a thread of panic in her voice.

James stared at her, trying to make sense of her words. “What? We’re not going near that sorry excuse for an inn ever again.”

Her eyes glistening with tears. “My new dress. It’s back there.”

“Your dress.” He could scarcely believe his ears. After all this, she was worried about a dress?

“It’s the only nice thing I own.” Her tears fell faster.

He looked out the window of the coach. He couldn’t think straight when she cried. “We’ll buy a new one,” he said. Her breath caught on a sob, and she pressed her hand to her mouth to stop the sound. He turned toward her, desperation entering his voice. “You must see the danger. Please, don’t cry.”

She inhaled, her hand stretching out to smooth her skirt. “I’m being foolish. It’s fine.”

He had to strain to hear her voice over the rumble of the wheels.

She bowed her head, her lips pressed together, offering no further words of explanation.

He wanted to pull her into his chest. Kiss every tear from her cheeks.

Never let her out of his sight again. But.

.. she’d left him once today. What would prevent her from doing so again? The thought brought panic rushing back.

“Why did you leave?” She flinched at the harshness in his voice, and he tried to soften his tone. “Did something happen?” He thought of Osgoode. “Did someone threaten you?”

She looked up sharply at this, fear flitting across her face before she could lower her eyes. She said nothing. He ground his teeth in frustration. Why wouldn’t she trust him?

“Mrs. Hobbes told Henry a man came. He spoke to you.” She remained stubbornly silent. “Was it Stephen Osgoode?” At the name, a quiver went through her. He wouldn’t have noticed it, except that all his attention was focused on her, as though she were a witness in a courtroom. “Tell me.”

He let the silence linger. Her hands twisted in her lap until he brought his own to rest on top of hers with a gentle squeeze.

She sighed, the tension leaving her shoulders, and chewed her lip as though she were deciding what to say.

He felt a tiny thrill beneath his worry.

He’d gotten through her defenses. She was going to tell him.

She cleared her throat. “I—I came to realize my presence in your home... might hurt you and Evie. He has powerful friends,” she said finally, her voice low.

“He said he’d put it about that I was—” She broke off, burying her face in her hands.

An unmanageable surge of anger hit him, something that happened with alarming frequency when Sara was threatened.

“Osgoode bears me a grudge. Several of them,” he said. “But I still don’t understand what he hoped to gain by talking to you.”

Her head jerked up, her mouth opening as though she were about to answer. Then her lips snapped shut. “If I work for you, he is going to destroy your reputation. Evie’s future, too.”

None of this was news to James. Still, warning Sara off would seem to counteract Osgoode’s goal.

With Sara gone, he’d lose his ammunition.

A horrifying thought occurred to him. What if Osgoode was interested in Sara himself?

She was a beautiful woman. Vulnerable, too.

An easy target for a man with no scruples in search of dalliance.

For a wild moment he wanted to command the driver to take him to Osgoode’s lodging where he could pound the idea right out of his head.

Then Sara’s voice, low and aching, pulled him back from the brink.

“He’s—he seemed like an awful man.” She shuddered. His hand slid sideways, grasping hers as he gave in to the need to comfort her. She clutched his fingers. “I’m sorry you were worried, but running away was the only way to stop him.”

“Not the only way,” he said. Was she thinking about their kiss as much as he was? Surely he hadn’t imagined her response.

She looked up, an unspoken question drawing her brows together.

James took a breath. Marriage was risky.

He told himself he’d never face the torment of love and wanting and rejection again, yet when it came to Sara O’Connor, he couldn’t seem to stop himself.

Over the past hours, one thought had overshadowed all the others.

He never wanted to lose Sara O’Connor again.

He cleared his throat, jumping in before he lost his nerve. “You could marry me.”