“The Brethren,” he repeated, his tongue thick as he imagined the delights that lay beneath that one thin layer of material. No doubt her hair would slip like silk through his fingers. No doubt her feet were bare though he daren’t look down. “When you say they’re out there, do you mean in the square?”
He noted the panic in her eyes, a fear that stemmed from more than sleeping alone in a strange hotel room. Dismissing all amorous intentions, he darted to the window, whipped back the curtain and stared out into the night.
“Don’t let them see you!”
“Them? You saw Layton and Wincote?”
Miss Vale hurried to his side and tugged his arm to pull him away. “I saw one man, a sinister creature lingering in the square. He leered at me, raised a gloved hand and drew the mark of the Brethren.”
Lawrence patted the dainty fingers gripping his forearm before stepping forward and peering out of the window. “I see no one there now.” He turned to Cavanagh. “Wait with Miss Vale while I go outside and look.”
“No!” Miss Vale grabbed his hand. “Stay with me. Tomorrow, we will visit Mr Wincote as you suggested, and you can beat the truth from him if you must.”
Mr Cavanagh came to his feet. “Were I not dressed in this silly garb I would pursue the villain.”
“Neither of you must leave this hotel, not tonight. Tomorrow, we will turn the tables and launch an attack.”
She was, without doubt, the bravest woman he’d ever known.
Lawrence couldn’t help but capture her chin between his fingers and stroke the delicate skin at her jaw. “There is nothing to fear, not while I’m here.”
With a surreptitious glance at Cavanagh—who had shown a sudden interest in a painting of fruit on the wall—she turned back to face him and whispered, “I don’t want to be alone tonight. I want to be with you.”
The last comment spoke of a feeling he could not identify, not lust but something more complex. He bent his head, his mouth but an inch from her ear. “You know what will happen if we’re left alone in this room.”
Being a man of determinable insight, Cavanagh slipped discreetly from the room and
closed the door. Lawrence heard him enter Miss Vale’s room and turn the key in the lock.
“I know what will happen.” She cupped his cheek and forced him to look at her. “You will make love to me in this quaint hotel room, and I will welcome your attentions because you’re the only man I could ever grant such a liberty.”
How was it this woman had the power to shatter his resolve? “One look at you and my defences melt like wax beneath a flame.”
“Lock the door, Lawrence. Show me the tenderness, the deep affection that such an intimate act brings.”
And there was the difference.
This was to be a joining of hearts and souls, not just bodies.
“I have never wanted a woman the way I want you.”
A smile brightened her eyes. “Then show me how to love you.”
Love him?
Years of trapped emotion burst free from its prison. His airways narrowed, and he swallowed hard to banish the ache in his throat. He blinked away the water threatening to blur his vision. Good God! He’d not shed a tear since he was a boy.
“They say tears soften the heart,” she said with her usual perceptiveness. She came up on tiptoes and brushed her lips against his.
“I’m not crying.” He closed his eyes and captured her mouth, drank in the essence of the woman he would marry if only she would give him a chance.
She broke contact. “Then perhaps you ought.”
“I can think of a better way to soothe my tortured soul. Do you trust me, Verity?”
“With my life.”
He dropped to his knees, pressed his forehead to her abdomen and relished the feel of her fingers pushing through his damp hair. He didn’t care that she touched the wound for the sense of joy outweighed the pain.