Page 86 of A Lady's Handbook of Espionage
And she went into that drowning deep in her mind that he couldn’t touch. It was soft there. It was quiet. The waves surrounded her, and she floated above her body.
And she was all right. He didn’t touch her here.
Not even when he finished, and she saw what he’d carved.
The two ugly letters.
L. F.
Louis Favreau.
A shudder went through her, violent enough to clack her teeth together. He gentled her through it, the hand on her nape almost a caress now.
“Shh,shh. It’s done,chérie. No more confusion. No more doubt.” His mouth brushed her temple, tender now. Gentle in the way he used to be before he ever showed her ugliness. “You know where you belong. With me. Beneath me.”
His fingers flexed on her neck, a warning. A noose, tightening by degrees.
“Surrender, and I’ll be merciful.” His lips pressed to hers. Tasting her. “I’ll even let your Irishman live.”
Everything stopped. Her heart, her lungs, the frantic whirl of her thoughts. In that silence, the only sound was his rasping breaths as he kissed her again.
The world shattered. She felt it like a fissure opening up in her chest.
Ronan.
It was the cruellest cut. Threatening the one thing she’d carved out in the wretched landscape of her life.
“You know what I’ll do,” he said, very soft. Almost gentle. “The ruin I’ll make of him if you refuse me. Is that what you want? Because I promise you, I’ll draw it out until you’ll beg me for the mercy of a clean kill. I’ll make it hurt, Isabel.”
She wanted to be strong, to snarl. To be stone. Steel. A creature of jagged edges and frost, like him.
But she wasn’t, was she? Not really. Not where it counted.
“End this.” His nails sank into her flesh. “Offer yourself for his worthless life, and I may spare him.”
“No.” Her voice shook.
“You’ll change your mind. But I’m feeling generous, so I’ll allow you a reprieve for tonight. Savour your freedom while you’re able and consider my offer.” He kissed her forehead. “À bientôt, ma petite.”
Then he was gone, leaving her bleeding and alone.
24
“Lily,” Callahan called, careful not to startle the poor woman who just witnessed a gristly murder. “A word.”
She approached him warily. The strain of the evening was etched into her face. Her hands trembled before she clasped them in front of her.
“Yes, sir?” Her voice shook.
“I need you to listen, pet. Can you do that?”
The tiniest dip of her chin was his only answer.
“Good girl. I want this place locked up tight as a drum, you hear? No one in or out. And that room” – he jerked his head towards the door where Harrington’s corpse was cooling – “is to stay exactly as it is. I don’t care if the Second Coming of Christ manifests in there, not a single thing gets touched. The coppers’ll be here soon. You tell them that verbatim. Understand?”
Lily nodded, some panic in her eyes receding in the face of clear instructions. “Is there anything else you need, sir?”
“Send someone to Basil House. A fast runner who can keep their mouth shut. Tell them to fetch the Marquess of Ripon. Say it’s urgent business regarding one of his guests.” Callahan withdrew a handful of coins from his pocket, pressing them into Lily’s hand. “For your trouble. And your discretion. Might want to grab yourself a tot of gin, settle your nerves.”
