Page 74 of Never a Duchess
“Because I’ve spent a lifetime living in fear.”
Callan understood fear. Being around poisonous plants brought a sweat to his brow. Hearing a hacking cough made his heart race. He could never carry a woman in his arms without recalling the day he had staggered back to the castle, a twelve-year-old boy bearing the weight of the only woman he’d ever loved.
Perhaps not the only woman.
He’d felt the faint stirrings of something the first time he’d danced with Lillian Ware. When she held him captive while telling wild stories about Mr Sloane’s hunt for pirate treasure. He’d danced with her a handful of times the year after, his affections deepening. Then he mentioned marriage, and she spent what felt like a lifetime avoiding him.
“Yet ye risked coming here tonight,” he said, wanting to make the most of this moment, not dwell on the past.
“The fear of not seeing you was too much to bear.” A rumbling gurgle in her stomach drew a chuckle from her lips, a sign they had done enough soul-searching tonight. “Forgive me. I’ve been so busy today, I’ve not eaten since breakfast.”
“Then amongst my many roles, allow me to play footman.” Escorting her to the dining table, he pulled out a chair. “Be assured, I’m yers to command.”
Her smile was like bright morning sunshine. “As you’re wearing nothing beneath that kilt, you may have to bend down to retrieve my napkin.”
He laughed and bowed. “If that’s yer desire.”
“I’m jesting. Serve the soup and sit with me.”
They ate in companionable silence, stopping halfway through the course to discuss the interview with Mrs Gregory.
Lillian chuckled. “You know she calls him Sherry. Which is rather ironic, as I find him so dreadfully unpalatable.”
“Might they be the couple we saw arguing in the garden?” The attack had been more violent than erotic. The victim had fought to escape.
“Mrs Gregory seemed more threatened by Madame Delafont than her married lover. Still, perhaps they’re extremely good liars.”
“As Daventry said, if we keep asking questions, we’re sure to find the right answers.” While he longed to return home, he prayed the investigation lasted a lifetime.
“I do have an idea,” she said as he cleared away the soup dishes. “It would be dangerous, and you’ll likely insist I wait in the carriage.”
“Ye mean to force the lock on Baudelaire’s office and search through his private papers,” he guessed.
She blinked in surprise. “Yes. How did you know?”
“Because there’s something about him that incites distrust. And his need for secrecy roused my suspicions.” Every muscle in his body tensed. What if she stumbled upon the poison? Accidentally ingested something toxic? “But I cannae risk ye getting hurt.”
She fingered the sprig of heather in her hair. “I have the fairies’ protection, and I’ll be with you. The man who would die to save me.”
“If ye accidentally consumed poison, it would be the death of me.” Was life not a series of repeating patterns? A way of testing a man to make sure he’d learned his lesson? “I cannae lose ye, Lillian.”
Those arresting eyes narrowed. “You almost did today.”
“After a sleepless night, I would have called on ye tomorrow.” She was his only weakness. The one woman he could not forget. “I would have tried to explain myself.”
Her lips curled into a playful grin. “You mean I seduced you, touched you so intimately, when I could have been at home reading and eating cake?”
Blood pooled in his loins as he recalled spilling his seed over her dainty hand. “Ye didn’t seduce me. I’ve been a willing participant for five long years.”
“Most men would have grown tired of waiting.”
“I’m nae most men.”
“No, you’re superior on every level.” Her gaze dropped to his mouth, her sweet sigh an obvious prelude to seduction. “You’ve never disappointed me, Callan, and I doubt you will tonight.”
Hearing his name on her lips stirred a carnal hunger, a desperation to possess her and sheath himself deep in her heat. To live for this one perfect moment.
“Before we venture upstairs,” he said, surrendering to his fate, “I need to explain why Roxburgh permitted ye to come here.”
