Page 48 of A Bride By Morning
But before he could leave, Wentworth grasped him by the arm. “We find Medvedev’s men, you leave them alive, Monty.”
“I’ll consider it,” he said. “But I still have some names other than Medvedev to strike off my ledger.”
20
Lydia stared down at her needlepoint, her mind a maelstrom of worry.
Gabriel hadn’t returned home the previous night, and he’d sent no messages from London.It’s only been a day,she told herself.Only a day.
But she couldn’t help worrying over how he fared. Whether Medvedev harmed him. If that gunman in the forest undid the minuscule gains she had made with her husband.
The minutes before that bullet . . .
Lydia vividly recalled the rough scratch of the bark as Gabriel pressed her to the tree. That minor discomfort ceased to matter the moment his lips touched hers, seeking her kiss with an urgency bordering on desperation. A thrill of victory had shot through her when Gabriel lost control.Shehad done that. For a moment, she had torn down the walls he’d built to keep her out, and he had been her husband in truth.
There was no denying it any longer: Lydia loved Gabriel. She’d loved him since she was a child. She’d loved him the day he left her for the diplomatic service. She’d loved him when she stood on his doorstep and endured his icy rejection.
She loved him now, despite all her efforts at guarding herself. Her heart was as fragile as his control—one push, and it was so easy to shatter.
Lydia brushed her fingertips across her delicate stitches, the vines of florals she sewed to calm the tumult of her thoughts. They hadn’t helped; if anything, the mundanity of the activity compelled her thoughts to wander. Where was Gabriel while Lydia sat in the sunny sitting room? What did he—
A rustle of fabric drew her attention. Lydia looked up to see Mr. Callihan set his hands behind his back as he gazed out the window. Her new bodyguard had the posture of a former soldier, and she wondered at his background. His family. Did they not miss him while he was forced to protect ladies from assassins?
A strand of brown hair fell across his brow, but Mr. Callihan made no move to push it back. It struck her that this man was as handsome as her husband. His features held the same austere quality that made him seem remote and inaccessible. Who was this man that her husband had entrusted with her safety?
“Mr. Callihan,” Lydia said. “You’ve been at that window for hours now. Won’t you sit down?”
His eyes flickered to her, and she noted that they were a pale shade of grey—the color of a bullet. “I’m content to stand.”
She wondered at his subtle accent. It betrayed a background that had been scrubbed and hidden beneath polite Englishness. Lydia set aside her needlework. “Would you like tea, then?”
“No, thank you.”
“Mr. Callihan, I understand that my husband has tasked you with this position, but I wouldn’t be a polite hostess if I didn’t at least invite you to rest your feet for a moment.”
His focus returned to the landscape beyond the window. “As kind as your offer is, I’m used to not resting my feet.”
Lydia made a frustrated noise. “I see why my husband hired you; you’re just as stubborn as he is.” She thought she saw his lip twitch. Progress. Lydia leaned back and studied him. “Do you have a wife somewhere who might be missing you during your time at Meadowcroft?”
He gave a wry smile. “I’m unwed.”
“A family, perhaps?”
Mr. Callihan raised an eyebrow. “If you’ll beg my pardon, Lady Montgomery, I’m not here for conversation. I’m here as your hired protection.”
“Yes, I’m well aware of that. But since I’m deprived of company, you’re its nearest approximation. How did you meet my husband?”
Mr. Callihan gave a quick, dry laugh. “Tenacious, aren’t you?”
“Did you expect the wife of Gabriel St. Clair to be anything but?”
That drew his notice. Callihan’s perusal of her was slow and thoughtful. “A few of us had bets back at the Home Office that he would marry a hellion or the stupidest woman alive.”
Lydia leaned forward in interest, setting her teacup on the table. “And what was your bet, Mr. Callihan?”
“Oh, I expected him to marry a fool out for his fortune. A woman like that has no interest in uncovering anything about a husband beyond what he puts into her purse.”
Lydia smiled. “And now?”
