Page 72 of The Lyon Returns
“If you must know I’ve been searching for any news of Dirk or his family since arriving in England.”
Her rapt gaze never wavered. “Since arriving in England, you said, not London.”
She was so very clever, his wife. “Yes. I first made port in Portsmouth and began my inquiries there. Then I made my way home, to be reunited with my wife.”
She had not removed her hand, and only after Gideon flicked a brief glance at his arm, where she gripped him, did she seem to remember it was there and attempt to withdraw.
Without thinking, Gideon captured her fingers in his. He turned her hand and pressed a lingering kiss to the tender side of her wrist, reveling in the pulse that trembled under his lips, the scent of her skin, an indistinct herbal sweetness that caused his mouth to water with devastating hunger.
He released her, cursing himself for his weakness until he noted her eyes, glazed with confusion, and, maybe, longing.Maybe.
Certainly, she was not unaffected by him. He took a degree of satisfaction from the belief, even if she truly did not want him in her bed—unlike almost every other widow of thetonwhose path he’d crossed over the years.
The fact she had made no move to advance their physical relationship, coupled with her reticence to discuss her late husband, led him to the distasteful conclusion she pined for the man whom she’d touted a perfect gentleman, and all that was charming and kind.
“Where was I?” he asked, his voice gruff.
“You were telling me about your search for Mr. Kennedy and his wife and child.”
He arched a brow at her, momentarily amused. “I forgot you’d read of him in my journals.”
She bit her lower lip. “You speak of him with the utmost admiration. Despite an inauspicious start to your friendship, he earned his place as one of your closest friends, a man of very few whom you trust.”
He snorted. She’d clearly read about his time in India, when Dirk had taken him under his wing, in spite of Gideon’s initial rejection of his assistance.
“Evidently my judgment was faulty. Dirk betrayed the consortium and the country. Hell. He betrayed me.” He scraped a hand over his jaw.
She gave him a gentle smile. “You do not believe that, sir.”
“No? How can I not? He sailed my cargo ship into enemy waters and landed me in all this trouble.”
She said nothing, just gazed at him with bottomless, compassion-filled eyes.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what, Gideon?” she asked softly.
“Like you feel sorry for me,” he snapped. “Like you learned my beloved horse broke a leg thanks to my recklessness and had to be put down.”
She shuddered with distaste. “I do admire your way with words—normally.”
“Sorry,” he muttered. “I don’t like being pitied. Especially when it’s because I’ve been a fool.”
“I do not believe for one moment you’ve been a fool, at least not as concerns Mr. Kennedy.”
He snorted. “No?”
“No. Nor am I convinced Mr. Kennedy betrayed you, at least not of his own accord.”
He made a scoffing sound, though everything in him wanted herto prove he, and everyone else, was wrong about Dirk.
She took a tiny sip of brandy and held the liquor on her tongue as she often did. Her mouth worked as she regarded the flames in the hearth with the concentration of a seer who could discern mystical truths.
And he sat in utter thrall.
Finally, she swallowed. “You say he sailed the ship. You’re certain of this?”
“Grayson and Brice were at the docks during the loading process. Both claim to have witnessed him casting off and setting sail, along with the two privateer ships we hired to guard him.” During the sale off the Spanish coastline, he’d used a looking glass to search the deck. He’d seen no sign of Dirk before taking a cannonball in the hull.
