“But you are not well, and until I am convinced you are strong enough to travel you will remain in this bed. I will send word to your mother in the morning.”
“No.” Her gaze unconsciously lingered on his full lips. They were so temptingly close. “I must leave now. You do not understand.”
“Then perhaps you should explain it to me.”
She turned her head, glaring toward the dark window. How was she supposed to concentrate when her body was tingling with that potent awar
eness?
“You know I cannot.”
“For God’s sake, Leonida, this is no longer a game.” His hand cupped her chin to tug her face back to meet his narrowed gaze. “You will tell me the truth. And if you even consider the notion of slipping opium into my tea or knocking me over the head or any other nefarious scheme to escape me, be assured that Boris has been commanded to capture you and drag you back to Meadowland.”
She was weakening. It was not just the days of terror when she knew with absolute certainty that Sir Charles was going to kill her and her servants. Or the constant running from enemies.
Or even being forced to endure bad food, shabby inns and a jolting journey over roads that were little better than rough tracks.
No, it was simply that she was tired of the lies.
“I do not understand why you are here,” she breathed, searching for the strength to keep her secrets hidden.
“And you presume that I do?” he muttered.
“Stefan…”
“Please, Leonida, I am too weary for our delightful fencing matches. If I am to protect you I must understand the danger.”
“I promised my mother.”
His nose flared, as if he were offended by her words. “If your mother does not comprehend that her daughter’s life is worth more than some damned secret then she does not deserve your loyalty. A fact I intend to point out to the Countess should our paths ever cross.”
Leonida was shocked to discover her heart warming at his anger. She could not possibly desire the Duke of Huntley to insult her own mother, she fiercely told herself. But then again, it was a rare and oddly wonderful sensation to know he was angered at the thought of her in danger.
“You would not.”
“I would. With the greatest pleasure.”
“My mother loves me.”
“Perhaps, but she has taken poor care of you.” His thumb brushed over her lower lip, sending a jolt of pleasure through her. “I will not be so inattentive.”
“I do not need anyone to take care of me.”
“Then perhaps I will allow you to care for me,” he countered, his gaze lowering to the scooped bodice of her shift. “After the past few weeks I could use a good deal of coddling.”
“You will have to acquire your coddling elsewhere,” she said huskily.
“We shall see.” With obvious reluctance he lifted his gaze. “For now I will content myself with discovering why you traveled to England.” His expression hardened into stubborn lines. “Leonida. The time has come.”
Leonida attempted to remind herself of the numerous reasons she should keep the truth from this man, not the least of which was the knowledge that the Duke of Huntley was already far too entangled in her life. Instead she could summon nothing more than a sigh of resignation.
“Yes.” She shifted to place a measure of space between them. Not that it helped. Stefan’s presence filled the entire room. “I suppose it has.”
He frowned at her movement, grudgingly allowing his hand to drop from her chin. “You did not come to Meadowland to be introduced to society or discover a husband.”
“No.”
“Then why?”