‘He would expect them to retreat, trembling, to your aunt Isobel’s nearest male relative for shelter.’
‘But they would not. They would hire a steward, take on more men.’
‘He underestimates them, in effect. But he is only going to discover that too late.’ Cris kept going, through the bathing room and into the drawing room, which was deserted.
‘I confess I would rather he did not have to find out that way.’ Somehow she kept her voice from trembling. Murder was a capital offence.
Cris turned, frowned. ‘You think I would let it get that far? You do not have much faith in me, do you?’
‘What can you do? They must have some evidence, even if it is false.’ She wanted to wring her hands, pace about. Instead she made herself stand still, look the thing firmly in the eye and face facts, deal with it.
‘The day after tomorrow is the inquest, not a trial. It is to establish the cause of death and to record the circumstances. Come here.’ He pulled her to him a little roughly, held her, and for a second she thought his hands shook. Then he was stroking one firmly down her back as though soothing a spooked horse and his voice, which had roughened, was steady and reassuring. ‘Tamsyn, I swear to you that I will keep you safe.’
‘Why?’ She jerked away before the safety of his body, the reassurance of his arms, left her so weak she would not be able to stand on her own two feet. ‘You don’t belong here, you hardly know me. Why should you get involved in this mess?’
*
Cris answered without stopping to analyse it. ‘Because I probably owe you my life. Because I like you, and your aunts. Because you are my lover. And, when you come right down to it, I’ll be damned if that little weasel Chelford gets away with this. Whatever it is.’
And because dealing with this keeps my mind from thinking about all those things I don’t want to deal with. The
mess I got my head into over Katerina. Thinking about the wife I must acquire. My respectable future and how to fill it. Leaving you.
‘Oh. That is certainly a comprehensive list.’ There was a hint of a smile now and her colour was coming back. He had not liked her calm, her control. It had looked too much like shock to him. Either that or an inability to see just how serious this might be if it was not dealt with hard and ruthlessly. He wanted her aware of the dangers, but confident and ready to fight. It shook him, how much he worried about her. For a moment there he had almost let his feelings overwhelm him. He had wanted to kiss her senseless, overwhelm her with assurances, treat her like some fragile little miss who had to be tucked away in cotton wool.
And that was foolish because he would be gone soon, back to London, back to his own, real life, and Tamsyn would be here, carrying on with hers, needing to stand on her own two feet. Just as soon as she was out of danger.
‘Tell me your plans,’ he said, pushing her to think, watchful that he did not push too far.
‘Cheer up the aunts, get the accounts straight, choose the best outfit for appearing at an inquest—and carry on racking my brains for some hint as to what Franklin is up to.’ Her chin was up, her voice was steady. Yes, she was all right to leave now. Fussing over her would only make her more unsettled.
‘That sounds comprehensive to me. I’ll go and find out what Gabriel’s plans are. He should be heading back to London as soon as possible.’
‘Cris.’ Tamsyn was half turned from him, the colour up charmingly on the curve of cheek that was visible to him. ‘Tonight…’
‘Will you come to my bedchamber? It is quite isolated, as you said.’ Now that sweet curve was rosy with embarrassment. ‘I do not keep Collins hanging around after dinner. If you were to drop by for, shall we say, a nightcap at about eleven I think you might find me unable to sleep.’ It was unexpected, the way he felt his heartrate kick up, how his body was already hardening at the thought.
This is a pleasant diversion. A temporary thing. A reaction. I will forget her and this world of fishermen and smugglers and sheep soon enough when this is all over and I am back in London.
Even so, for all that cold water dash of realism, he found he was looking forward to the night with the eagerness of a young man with his first lover.
Chapter Fourteen
‘Cris!’
‘What?’ he demanded with more aggression than good manners.
‘I have addressed two full sentences to you and you sit there gazing out of the window like some lovelorn youth. What is the matter with you?’ Gabe sauntered into the drawing room and hitched one hip on to the table edge.
‘Thinking. You have to concede, there is plenty to mull over.’
‘And none of it the sort of thing that might put a foolish smile on your lips,’ Gabriel jibed. ‘I shall have to send a letter to Alex and Grant with the news that Cris de Feaux has been seen to smile.’
In a moment he would be blushing and that would be worthy of a newspaper headline. What the devil was wrong with him? Denmark had apparently confused him far more than he was letting himself believe. ‘I’ve been known to, usually when you aren’t around to aggravate me.’ Cris waved a hand vaguely at the window. ‘It is a pleasant view.’
Gabe made a complicated sound of derision. ‘Views, my left buttock. This is developing into something decidedly murky.’
‘The view?’