Page 103 of While You Were Spying

“No!” She bit her lip, realizing she’d answered too quickly, sounded defensive. “I mean—”

Ethan’s other hand caressed her arm, and she chanced a quick glance at him.

“Don’t lie to me,cara.” His eyes were understanding, but his voice was hard. “Trust me,” he murmured.

She stared into his eyes for a long moment—the longest of her life.

Trust him. She wanted to, and yet she was afraid. She felt a stab in her heart even imagining contempt in his amber gaze.

He squeezed her hand. It was a simple gesture, that of a friend, a confidant. She closed her eyes. She needed to tell him. After the attack she needed, more than ever before, to feel safe and protected. The secret of Roxbury’s abuse was a cold knot inside her, but maybe if she told Ethan, confided in him, the sharing would melt it just a little.

“He hit me.” Her voice was a hoarse whisper. She felt his hand tighten on her but kept her eyes closed. “Not at first,” she managed to say a little louder. It was important for Ethan to understand that. Roxbury hadn’t always been violent. “He changed. H-he wasn’t the man I thought he was.”

She pulled away from Ethan’s hands, looked down at the floor they sat on. “But that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was the insults. The way he made me feel.” She squeezed her eyelids tightly, squeezing back tears. “Like I was nothing.”

“Cara.”

She heard the pain in Ethan’s voice and opened her eyes to look at him. She was prepared for scorn but not for the anguish she saw.

“Come here.” He drew her into his arms again, cradled her head against his chest.

She was too surprised at his reaction to resist. And then his tenderness overwhelmed her, and she began to sob. Embarrassed, she tried to move away from him, but he pulled her tighter.

“Come here,” he said again.

“Why?” she hiccupped. “I’m crying tears all over your coat.”

She heard him chuckle low in his chest. “Devil take the coat.” His hand caressed her hair, lingered at the nape of her neck. “And I need to hold you.” His fingers slid down her skin. “To know that you’re safe.”

Francesca sighed and gave herself over to the sanctuary of his embrace. He pulled her into his lap, pressing her securely against him.

The feel of his body against hers, his arms around her, the smell of sandalwood and the scent that was uniquely him overwhelmed her, soothed her, comforted her.

“Cara,” she heard him whisper.

She closed her eyes and allowed herself to melt into him, gasped as he swept her up. Cradling her in his arms, he carried her to the chair near the cold fireplace.

He sat and settled her in his lap, pressing her face to his chest, rubbing his hands down her back and arms in the same way she had when checking Lino for injuries a moment before. He was making sure she wasn’t harmed, that she was whole. For that alone, she loved him.

She put her hands on his chest, wrapped her fingers around the lapels of his tailcoat, and buried herself in the safe, solid feel of him. Safe. How long since she’d felt safe and protected? Too long. Not since she’d last been in his arms.

But tonight even his embrace could only wipe away the horror of her attack for a short while. She began to shiver, her teeth chattering, though she gritted them together in a feeble attempt to stop it.

“Are you cold?” He sat forward. “I’ll start a fire.”

“No.” She felt a sense of panic at the idea of him rising, relinquishing his embrace for even a moment. “It’s not that. Don’t let me go yet.”

She heard the beseeching tone in her voice and hated it, but Ethan didn’t seem the least repulsed by her weakness. He pulled her closer. Her hair had come free of its pins during the attack, and she felt his hands in it now, knew he was feeling its weight, its softness. She felt him brush his lips against it, and closed her eyes. She’d never felt so loved, so cherished as when he touched her.

Her Atlas, shouldering the weight of the world. Willingly taking on her problems along with his. Willingly subjecting himself to the absurdness of her mother, the brusqueness of her father, the idle chatter of her little sister, when he should probably be in London or France seeing to the protection of the country. Fighting for her when she was attacked.

That had to mean something, didn’t it? Mightn’t he care for her just a little? Or was she just a fool, wishing for something that would never be?

“When I saw you tonight,” he murmured into her hair, “I thought you must be an enchantress who’d cast a spell over me.”

She looked up at him, surprised not only at his words but the tone in which he said them. There was something raw in his voice. Something she’d never heard before.

“I looked at you tonight, and I realized I’ve been a fool this last week.” He shook his head as if he could hardly believe his own idiocy. “Whatever you want,cara, it’s yours. I don’t want to lose you.”

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