Page 150 of The Viscount's Seduction
He gripped her shoulders. “You knew who he was before?” He frowned. “Before he assaulted you last night?”
She choked. Nodded. Shook her head. He hadn’t understood what she’d said the night before. He hadn’t suspected her of deception. She could have gone without telling him. Perhaps now he’d never trust her. Tears flooded her eyes and clogged her throat.
She swallowed them back and lifted her chin. “I suspected. I didn’t know for sure. I talked to him one day and he was quite kind. I should have told you. It’s only that, you’re an English lord, and if he was truly an Irishman…and…and I wanted to talk to you and you didn’t come home.”
“I’myourEnglish lord.”
“Yes.” She nodded. “Yes, you are.”
“And you were afraid to tell me about an insurrectionist working inside our home because you thought he was Irish.”
Oy, when he said it like that…
“You don’t trust me, Sirena.”
His gentle tone tore her heart to shreds, and she barely managed the breath to climb the stairs.
They stopped outside the door to her bedchamber and she took his hand. “I trust you, James. I l-love you. I was waiting in the library last night to tell you, only—”
“I didn’t come home.”
“I’ll always want justice for the Irish, but…” She searched his face. “But I believe you want that too.”
“Come.” He opened the door and Jenny looked up.
“It’s always so busy in here.” He spun Sirena around. “Jenny, you may have the rest of the night…”
Bakeley’s hands stopped moving along her laces, and tension crackled the air around them. “Jenny, bring water and towels. My love, your suit of armor failed you.”
She wriggled. “I feel nothing but metal stays poking me.”
“Good sign.” He worked on her fastenings until she was down to her chemise. With a sharp rip, he tore open the back, making her shriek.
“There was already a small tear.” Bakeley pressed a wet cloth to her back, and she gasped.
“It’s only a small cut, I think,” Jenny said. “And the bleeding stopped. I think if you—”
What transpired behind her she wasn’t sure. “That is, if you don’t need anythin’ else, good night, my lady, my lord.”
She heard the doorsnickclosed on the maid.
And then she was floating in Bakeley’s arms.
“What are you doing?” she squealed. He kicked open doors and carried her through to his bedchamber, dumping her on the bed and ripping at his coats.
“You’re mad,” she said.
“For you. And I’m going to prove it.”
