Page 24 of His Wicked Embrace
“But—” He’d promised his mother he would stay for a fewhours.
“Go, my lord. You won’t be missed. If I see your mother, I’ll tell her I don’t think we wouldsuit.”
Relief cascaded through him. He could return to Zehra and spend the rest of the evening withher.
“Thank you, Miss Hunt, truly. I hope you find that sensible, quiet man you’re lookingfor.”
“Thank you.” Miss Hunt was blushing again. Lawrence glanced back at her only once as he left the ballroom. She stood there looking utterly alone, and he felt a pang of pity for her. She was a lovely girl, after all. He hoped she would find someone worthy ofher.
By the time Lawrence had slipped out of the ballroom, he was more than ready to go home. Miss Hunt was quite right. He’d thought of nothing but Zehra all night. She was so openly lonely, and he’d hated leaving her behind this evening. He smacked his gloves against his palm as he waited for hiscoach.
But as he climbed into the coach, he had the strangest feeling he was being watched. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled, and he glanced around. For a minute, he swore he saw a shadow detach from the wall across the street, but when he leaned forward for a better look, the shadow had vanished. Perhaps it had never been there. He wasn’t sure. He traveled the rest of the way down the darkened streets, keeping a close eye on the road through the small window, even though he saw noone.
But it didn’t stop the feeling of beingwatched.
Chapter Eight
Zehra turned the last page of the novel she’d found in Lawrence’s bedchamber earlier that day. It had been so wonderful to find an engaging read. She had read some English novels before, but never these “Gothic” ones, as Lawrence had called them, for they were rare in Shiraz, the area where she was from. The adventures of Lady Isabelle had distracted her from her loneliness for a time, but when she heard the click of the door opening her heartleapt.
“Zehra?” Lawrence’s voice was soft, as though he feared she might beasleep.
“I’m here.” She set the book down and stood, surprised by her eagerness to see him again. It was hard to explain, but it was as though every time she saw him, he brought sunlight into the room, even when it wasnight.
He smiled as he spotted her. “Ah, you’re awake. I thought perhaps you might have gone to sleep. It’s almostmidnight.”
She shook her head. “I am tired. But I couldn’t rest.” Her evening after dinner had been plagued with worries. She needed to find her mother’s family, yet she had no way to do so. If she asked Lawrence for help, that might put him in danger, but if she did not, she might be putting her family atrisk.
Al-Zahrani would no doubt find her family before she did, and he had told his companion at the brothel that he would kill anyone who stood between him and Zehra. She fought the revulsion she felt at the thought of being back under that evil man’s control. The things he had promised he would do to her, the tortures he wanted to inflict, the pleasures he would take from her while leaving her broken in spirit… And more than anyone, she knew how resourceful Al-Zahrani could be. To stand against him was to put one’s own neck against thesword.
No, she couldn’t put anyone’s life at risk, which meant she had to be careful when searching for her family, assuming there was a family to search for. Her grandfather had disowned her mother, after all, and there was every possibility he did not know she existed. Even if he did, he may not even want her. Regardless, she didn’t want to put him in danger if Al-Zahrani was watching her grandfather’shome.
Lawrence came up to her, concern etched on his face. “What is it? You’re awfully pale all of a sudden.” He cupped her chin, and she leaned into his hold, wishing his strength and comfort could banish all her fears. But she had to remain strong. Lawrence would not always be there to fight herdemons.
“I’m all right, truly,” she whispered, gazing at him. He tilted his head, and his fingers toyed with a loose tendril of her darkhair.
“You’re safe now, I promise you. You have nothing tofear.”
She bit her lip before replying. “Nothing to fear until our week is over and I return toPersia.”
The pain that flashed in his eyes reflected her own heart’s sting. She didn’t want to leave England, and the reasons why seemed to be slowly multiplying, with the greatest one standing right in front of her. She looked down to his broad chest and the finely embroidered waistcoat he wore, which bore beautiful swallows in silver and gold threading. She reached out, placing her palm on his chest, not to push him away but to connect them. His fingers lowered from her hair and curled around her wrist, holding her hand to hischest.
“I’m not a gentleman, not by any means, but…” He smiled ruefully. “I would like to be here for you, sweetheart, in whatever way Ican.”
She couldn’t resist teasing him. “How noble ofyou.”
His soft chuckle seemed delightfully sinful. “Lord, everyone keeps accusing me of being so bloody noble all of a sudden. I am most certainly anything but that. If you could read my thoughts at thismoment…”
“Oh?” She met his stare, surprised at the stark hunger, but rather than frighten her, it heated her blood and made her feel dizzy, as though she’d had too much mulledwine.
“My thoughts would likely get me slapped and I’d certainly deserveit.”
A sensuous light seemed to pass between them as she moved her hand up his chest. He leaned in just an inch, as though barely resisting hisdesires.
“And what would get you slapped, I wonder?” she asked, her voice breathless as she waited to hear if he would confess histhoughts.
“Gripping you by the back of your neck and kissing you,hard.”
Her breath hitched. “But you wouldn’t stop there…” she pressed. “That is not worthy of a slap. In deed, perhaps, but not inthought.”
