Page 46 of Grave Expectations
"Fitzroy went very quiet."
"He's more dangerous when he's quiet." It meant he was shutting himself off emotionally. An unemotional Lincoln was a ruthless Lincoln.
"Charlie…" He sat opposite and rested his elbows on his knees. He bowed his head, sending his blond locks tumbling over his forehead into his eyes. "The committee will probably try to contact you now that you've returned safe and sound. Julia indicated to me that they'll try to convince you to leave of your own accord."
"How?"
"By telling you it's best for the ministry if you're not here. And best for Fitzroy too."
I slumped back and rubbed my aching temples. "They think I'm being selfish."
He looked up through the curtain of his hair.
"Do you think I'm being selfish, Seth?"
"No!"
"Should I leave? For Lincoln's sake?"
He sat up straight and squared his shoulders. "No. Definitely not. I hate to think what he'd turn into if you left. He was a cold block of ice before you arrived, but these last few weeks have seen him thaw. You've humanized him."
To hear it put like that made my heart swell, but I felt compelled to defend Lincoln. "I'm not sure I can take all the credit. I simply brought out what was already there, only deeply buried."
He shrugged. "I wanted to warn you so you can prepare yourself. Don't take what they say to heart."
I smiled and was about to thank him when Lincoln strode in.
Chapter 9
Ibarely hadtime to register his presence before he lifted me out of the chair and drew me into a fierce hug. He buried one hand in my hair, holding my head against his chest. The rapid, erratic beat of his heart drowned out everything else, so that I didn't hear Seth leave. When Lincoln set me down again, we were alone with the door closed.
He held me at arm's length and checked me over. His stormy gaze settled on the bruises at my throat then lifted to my face, questioning.
"It's the only injury," I told him. "And it's not too sore."
He nodded. Swallowed. I was acutely aware that he hadn't yet spoken.
His thumb stroked my jaw and he angled his head to kiss me. What began as a chaste kiss quickly turned into one of longing that told me how worried he'd been. There was no need for words between us. All the built-up fear and his immense relief poured out of him in that kiss.
I circled my arms around his neck and held him as tightly as he held me. I wanted to comfort him as much as his presence comforted me, and for several minutes we simply cherished one another's company.
And then, as if he'd doused that part of himself, he drew away and regarded me through eyes that were as black and bleak as a deep lake in winter. "What happened?"
"What has Gus already told you?" I asked.
"Nothing. I saw he was back and he said you were up here. I came immediately. Who was the woman calling herself Mrs. Webb and where did she take you? Why?"
"Mrs. Webb was in fact Mrs. Drinkwater."
A muscle in his jaw pulsed. "I didn't consider the victims. She wanted you to raise her husband?"
"So he could get revenge on his killer, although I think she simply missed him. She is somewhat dependent on her husband's good opinion of her. I think she felt lost after his death, alone."
"She forced you to raise his spirit by threatening Gus?"
I nodded.
It was some time before he spoke again, and I feared he was warring with himself about whether to tell me I should have sacrificed Gus.
