Page 64 of Let Me Be Your Hero
She seized his arm rather than looping hers through it. “Wait. While we’re here”—she smiled brightly, gesturing to the locked door before them—“perhaps you could show me your workshop!”
Archibald’s heart tripped. “My… my workshop?” He tried to chuckle, but it emerged sounding forced. “You wouldn’t want to see that.”
“I assure you, I would.” She laughed, and unlike the strangled sound he had made, hers was bright and sparkling. “As much as I’ve enjoyed discovering the house’s Gothic flourishes, I think I’m even more curious to see what you’re hiding on the other side of that door.”
Screws.Mostly just screws. “Oh, er… There’s nothing very interesting in there. Just a few odds and ends. You wouldn’t want to see it.”
She frowned. “If there’s nothing much to see, why not just show it to me? It won’t take a minute, and it will assuage my curiosity.” She squeezed his forearm, her lips twisting upwards. “I’m Pandora, remember?”
Oh, he remembered, all right. The problem was the metaphor was a little too apt. Just like Pandora’s Box, he would never be able to shut the door again once Izzie learned what a dull fellow he really was.
A drip of sweat had just started to make its way across his brow when the solution came to him in a flash. “I had some news today. About the men who tried to kidnap you. An arrest could be made as soon as tonight.”
She gasped. “Tonight? Truly?” She gave a shaky breath at his nod. “I hadn’t even dared to hope.”
“Yes, it’s wonderful news.” Placing a hand on the small of her back, Archibald guided her toward the stairs. “Let’s go somewhere so I can tell you everything.”
He brought her to their bedroom, where they sat facing each other on the bed. Archibald related everything he had learned in his meetings that morning.
“MacDonald,” Izzie said. “I think that was it—the name I heard in the dark walks. Do you really think he could be arrested tonight?”
“It all depends on when he decides to transfer the next shipment of guns. They want to catch him in the act, ifpossible. I’ve arranged to have significant manpower watching the dockyards. I want to make sure he doesn’t slip through our fingers.”
“Significant manpower.” Izzie gave him a wry look. “That you’re paying for, I imagine.”
“Of course.” He studied her a beat. She looked… frustrated. “What of it?”
She blew out a breath. “I feel like I’ve caused you a lot of trouble.”
He made an incredulous sound. To be fair, depending on how long this stretched on, it was conceivable that he might wind up spending hundreds of pounds on guards for the house.
But in exchange, he got Izzie as hiswife.
It was the bargain of the century, as far as Archibald was concerned.
He touched her cheek. “I would pay a lot more than that to secure your safety. And you’re not trouble. You’re…”
It was on the tip of his tongue to saythe best thing that’s ever happened to me, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to utter the words. He thought that maybe, just maybe, he and Izzie were headed toward a place where she would welcome such a declaration from him. But whatever this was that was blossoming between them still felt fragile, and he didn’t want to risk crushing it by asking for too much too soon.
“Not trouble?” The indignation in Izzie’s voice was offset by the corner of her mouth, which was twitching, and the way she looped her arms around his neck as she crawled into his lap. “I will have you know that I am atremendousamount of trouble,” she said, pushing him back on the bed.
His last words before her lips descended on his were, “I daresay I could use more trouble in my life.”
They were late to dinner.
CHAPTER 30
No arrest was made that night, nor the following one.
But on the third night, Roderick MacDonald fell into their trap.
Izzie had been on tenterhooks the entire time, sleeping poorly at night and unable to concentrate by day. She had resolved to try to work on her latest manuscript, as fruitless as the effort seemed, and was heading down the hall toward John Nettlethorpe’s chamber when she heard Archibald call her name.
“Archibald?” Confused, she blinked at her husband, who was jogging up the stairs. He had left for Nettlethorpe Iron only an hour earlier. “What are you—”
“They got him,” he said without preamble.
Her heart skipped a beat. “Got him? Do… do you mean—”
