Pursuing the Traitor by Leighann Dobbs

Author:Leighann Dobbs [Dobbs, Leighann]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-04-26T18:30:00+00:00

16

T he dampness of the grass and shed had saved them, of that Alex was certain. Although the wood had taken a while longer to light than it might have if dry—and had churned out more smoke than fire in so doing—the fire drew the attention of someone in Lady Leighton’s manor as or before he and Lucy stumbled clear of the edifice. As he gulped for air, his throat and eyes still stinging, servants poured from the manor. They were like ants. One spotted at first, then two or three, then the swarm descended. Shouts rang in his ears as the housekeeper called for water to be pumped from the well and brought around.

With the amassing of the servants, so too was the hostess’s attention caught. And as she spilled into the night air, she brought with her a parade of guests hoping for a bit more titillating excitement for the evening. Alex, blast it all, found himself in the middle of the spectacle with Lucy by his side.

The lanterns of the servants and guests lit the scene as bright as day. Lucy, with her black hair escaping its coif in rebellious wisps, turned her face down and wrapped her arms around herself. She tried to stuff a handkerchief back into her reticule with one hand. This time, Alex didn’t bother asking for her permission. He shucked out of his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders.

She turned her face up to his as he secured the jacket in place. Although her expression was emotionless, composed, there was something in her eyes that begged for his help. If he didn’t think quickly, her reputation would be in tatters. He dropped his hand before he lingered a touch too long to appease the gossips.

Perhaps the tarnish to her reputation was deserved. When he’d touched her, temptation had overwhelmed her. Given a moment longer, he would have pulled her into his arms and kissed her senseless. Never mind the enemy spies who might lead him to Monsieur V—the moment he’d felt the soft skin of her arm beneath his hand, he could think of nothing except tasting her velvet-soft lips again. If she hadn’t noticed the smoke, he might have been blind to the danger.

If he’d kissed her, if they’d been discovered together in the shed, more than her reputation would have been in jeopardy. Her future, perhaps, as well—and his, too. He would have no other recourse but to marry her. That was, if her brothers didn’t kill him before he made it to the altar.

Strangely enough, the idea didn’t repulse him the way it used to—marriage, that was to say, not death-by-angry-Graylocke. The latter he’d still like to avoid. But marriage… a couple years ago the notion had thrilled him not at all. Then again, a couple years ago, the light-skirts with whom he had kept company weren’t precisely the sort one started a life with. And he hadn’t been fit to be a husband, either.

The sudden deaths of his father and brother had changed that.

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