Page 66 of To Catch A Rogue

Was that why she was so frightened to let him close?

"I promise you, no matter what happens, you will never lose me."I was yours the second I opened my eyes that first day and saw you there, though it took me a while to realize it."I will crawl out of my goddamned deathbed to be with you. No matter how many Blood aristocrats or Black Wolves stand between us, nothing short of hell could keep me away, and even then I'd give the devil my soul so you would never be alone again."

Lark lifted her head, and suddenly her mouth was bare inches from his.

His heart started beating faster as her breath fanned over his sensitive lips. One thigh was pressed between his, and he'd been trying desperately not to notice, but that was then, and this was now, and suddenly he could barely breathe for the sheer need to press his mouth to hers and stake his claim.

But.

"Charlie." Part breathless protest, part plea.

He fucking loved hearing his name on her tongue.

Charlie pressed a thumb to the center of her lower lip, pausing the words before she could give them life. "When I kiss you again, Lark, it's not going to be in a dirty boat with half the fishermen of the Neva looking on. And there will be no doubt in your mind. No reticence in your touch."

"Are you going to kiss me again?"

"One day. When you beg me to kiss you. When you can't live another moment without my mouth on yours. If you want me to kiss you again, then you're the one who's going to have to make the first move."

Contemplation stirred through her dark eyes. "This is complicated," she whispered.

Charlie smiled at her. "No. It's not. You're just determined to make it so."

"We've barely even patched our friendship. What if—?"

"Nothing will ever make me walk away from you again."

Lark rested her head back down and curled her fingers in the collar of his shirt.

"Can I ask you a question?" he murmured, stroking her hair.

"Of course."

"I'm fairly certain you were speaking Russian when I entered the room."

Tension slid through her. "Yes. I speak a little Russian. I speak a little French and German too. There are more than enough Russian immigrants in the East End."

It had been more than just the smattering he'd picked up. In the heat of the moment he'd been focused on getting the knife away from her throat, but looking back now, she'd been answering rapidly.

For the first time since he'd met her, Charlie was pretty certain Lark had just lied to him.

* * *

People bustled through the square,and the Admiralty spire gleamed golden in the sunlight as dawn burst over the city.

Checking over his shoulder for signs of pursuit, Charlie kept one hand at the small of Lark's back as he directed her toward the statue. Though she was putting one foot in front of the other, she moved like an automaton, stripped down to the barest of reflexes in order to keep moving.

It was unnerving.

A familiar figure leaned against the fence surrounding the statue, smoke curling from the ever-present cheroot in his hands.

Charlie gave her a nudge. "Ten quid. Told you."

"Trouble?" Blade took in their bloodied clothes.

"Nothing we couldn't handle," he replied.

Blade's green gaze slid over Lark. Charlie shook his head swiftly in anI'll tell you laterkind of way.