Part 37 (1/2)

”Is it?” Emily looked at Charlotte slyly from beneath her lids as their mother drew past hearing range. ”Nice to know. Almost as nice as the deal you made with Miranda to sponsor me should things go badly.”

Charlotte reacted as if she'd been goosed. ”How do you-?”

Emily hummed. ”Best to keep my secrets to myself.” She hummed a little more, walking away. ”Like how it has been quite drafty in the house lately. I should speak to Anna about leaving windows open.”

Charlotte looked after her sister, stunned. Then she narrowed her eyes and decided maybe the carriage wheel was still the way for her to go.

Emily laughed, seeming to understand the thought, and raced away. Charlotte raced after her, and part of the burden she had shouldered for so long slipped away.

Chapter 22.

T he address was highly respectable. A little too respectable. Charlotte had walked from her family's house, a mere five-minute jaunt. And into an even nicer section of town. Only hiding her ident.i.ty from the dozen or more people she had encountered-and knew socially-because she had worn Roman's large cloak and kept her head lowered.

She stood on the stoop, knowing that if she turned around, there would be at least one person looking her way. For there was always someone looking for a bit of gossip to be had. Always a Bethany to be found.

Though not for much longer.

Charlotte swallowed. Everything she had believed would make her content was awaiting her at home. Freedom from her father, freedom for Emily, an a.s.sured place in society. If it wasn't pure happiness, that was a dream she had parted from long ago.

A dream that had once more crawled through her window and slipped beneath her covers nearly two months past. A dream that had carried her here to this stoop.

She rapped the door with the gleaming knocker.

The door opened immediately. And there he was, golden and gorgeous, leaning languidly against the jamb, the light filtering around him, stroking him. He smiled slowly, only the underlining thread of tension strumming beneath his muscled skin giving him away.

Sleeves rolled up, golden forearms tracked with old scars, clothes a.s.suredly hiding a plethora of weapons that would s.h.i.+ne under the lights. Scars and risk.

Eyes hooded and uncertain.

She smiled and walked past him into the foyer. Chancing the disillusionment that might one day grace his face. The shattering of confidence and dreams. The force constantly pus.h.i.+ng and pulling within her between external bravery and internal vulnerability.

But there was a little of that in everyone. Even in the man standing behind her.

He closed the door, and it was a loud sound in the empty entryway. She gazed around her, pus.h.i.+ng back her hood, but it didn't seem as if anyone lived in the house. ”Yours?”

He tilted his head. ”Let us say I'm borrowing it for the night.” He motioned toward the stairs. ”The parlor has a few pieces left, though the new owner will have to furnish this place soon, don't you think?”

She blinked, not really caring about whoever owned the place. Someone wealthy-the address and size of the house guaranteed it. And undoubtedly someone with clout since the neighbors on this particular block were quite powerful and able to dictate and influence who could purchase property.

The parlor was roomy, and thankfully there were a few pieces for them to sit upon and use. In fact, there was a bookcase full of games and books and a small liquor rack that looked very similar to Roman's.

”No servants or service. Hope you don't mind.” He kicked back on the settee, putting his feet up on a low table. But his voice sounded strange, almost as if he were hesitant.

She perched next to him, wanting to blurt out all manner of things, trying to find something inane of which to speak instead in order to hide her nerves. ”I don't mind serving myself, but perhaps you should remove your feet?”

A full smile drew across his lips, banis.h.i.+ng some of the hesitancy. ”I'll ask permission later. Or forgiveness.”

That sounded more like him.

She touched his cheek. ”You are well?” She gave up on engaging in a battle of words-too relieved to see him whole and unharmed.

He froze beneath her hand, then ever so slightly leaned into the touch, eyes closing for a moment. ”Of course. Fixed any threats to your safety, didn't we?”

She examined his serious expression. There was nothing amused about it at the moment. ”I . . . I don't know?”

The edges of his eyes pinched, and he withdrew her hand from his cheek, holding it in his. ”I'd never have met with you otherwise. I would have had One-eye tell you to come another day.”

That was something she would address in a moment. But first . . . ”Does that mean you are safe?”

The skin around his eyes stayed taut. ”I will never be safe.” His entire body vibrated as he leaned toward her. ”You have no idea how many times this past week I planned never to see you again.”

She swallowed at the sudden cold his words produced but said nothing as he continued.

”To let you live your life without a trace of me in it. And yet, selfish b.a.s.t.a.r.d that I am, here I am.” He tipped her chin up, his gaze switching from one of her eyes to the other and back again, trying to read her. ”But I will never be safe. Do you understand that, Charlotte?”

He-and Andreas-had made it blindingly obvious, so the answer, if not the emotion that accompanied it, was easy.

”Yes,” she whispered, having thought things through all week, even with immediately knowing what her answer would be. ”And if I have to sew you up, if I have to wait up every night, then I will.”

He stared at her, fingers frozen on her chin.

She took his hand in hers, a reflection of his previous motions, and pulled it to her lap. ”So, yes, Roman,” she said calmly. ”I know.”

His eyes shut for a moment, and he shook his head minutely before opening them again. ”There is no wonder in me, no question, as to why I am here. Only that it is not the right choice for you.”

She grabbed his chin. ”And yet you are here. And I am glad. ”

A sliver of a smile curved his lips, the light she so loved there in the back of his eyes.

”Now-” She primly crossed her hands in her lap. ”Tell me what has happened in this week that you've been absent from my window.”

He reached out and tugged one of her curls, coiling it in his fingers. ”We took care of all threats to you. But there are outside forces that must be dealt with.” His eyes tightened again.

”Outside forces?”

He smiled grimly. ”A . . . rival. And Andreas's family must be dealt with.”

She blinked.

”But I will always keep you safe.” His eyes went fierce and dangerous, just as they had in the Hunsdens' shop so long ago. ”No one will dare try something like what happened the other night again, not with you anywhere in the vicinity. I made sure the repercussions of such actions would be seen as . . . decidedly unpleasant.”

”What did you do?”

The tight smile didn't fade. And neither did a word cross his lips.

”Roman.”