Her gaze clashed with Quinn’s. “If Lisle is guilty, he could kill you before you have a chance to defend yourself.”
“I promise I will be ready for him.”
Venetia bit her lip, remembering the shock of seeing Quinn’s blood, her stark fear when she realized that he had been shot. She couldn’t bear to think of him being hurt again, or killed.
“Come here, love,” he commanded in a soothing voice as he reached for her and drew her against him. He was obviously trying to mollify her, and as she laid her head on his shoulder, she felt an instant warmth.
Although her concern didn’t abate, Venetia reflected that she would just have to hope and pray his plan would succeed.
It was nearly midnight when they arrived at the Traherne mansion in Berkeley Square. Despite being roused from their beds at the late hour, the servants were far more welcoming to Venetia than previously, perhaps because Quinn had made it clear that she was now mistress of his household. He suggested, however, that she retire for the night while he checked his study for any messages from Hawk.
When Mrs. Pelfrey inquired if the lord and lady were to have separate bedchambers, Quinn said to give her ladyship the same rooms as before, then made for his study. As she followed Mrs. Pelfrey upstairs to her rooms, Venetia tried to stifle her disappointment at the sleeping arrangements and instead focus on the luxury and taste surrounding her in the beautiful mansion.
The distraction lasted as she washed off her travel dirt and donned her nightdress. To her dismay, though, when she climbed into bed she felt acutely alone and lonely. Rolling over, she punched her pillow, highly annoyed at herself. She had spent only her second night in Quinn’s arms and already she missed him.
Although weary from the long journey, Venetia lay awake long into the wee hours, assaulted by uncertain, chaotic feelings. Most likely Quinn was curtailing his pursuit of her since he had succeeded in making her his conquest. It stood to reason that he would no longer want her as ardently. Or perhaps the exact opposite was true: He wanted her to plead to be with him.
Which she would never, ever do. She couldn’t afford to forget that he had broken countless hearts, including her young friend Lydia’s. She was determined she would never fall in love with Quinn as so many other foolish women had done. Her heart had shut itself away, and she intended for it to remain so.
Still, she couldn’t shake her anxiety for him.
Venetia rose early the next morning, bleary-eyed and groggy, and after pulling on a dressing gown, joined him at the breakfast table.
Quinn, already dressed for the day, looked surprised and amused to see her. “Are you checking up on me?”
“No. I only wanted to implore you to be careful.”
“I intend to. If it eases your mind any, I plan to conceal a pistol in my greatcoat pocket and carry a sword cane. By the bye, Hawk sent a message saying he approves of my plan to confront Lisle.”
“I suppose that will have to suffice.”
“Have some breakfast, my love. You must be hungry.”
Venetia knew she couldn’t possibly eat just now, but she accepted a cup of tea from the footman hovering at the sideboard. The knowledge that Quinn could lose his life filled her with dread. Rationally or not, she would fear for him every time he left the house until the assassin was caught.
When he had finished eating, she followed him to the front door. After donning his coat and hat, he stepped closer to her. Molding a hand to her face protectively, he bent to give her a brief kiss, and for a fleeting moment his lips lingered on hers.
The gesture was casual yet affectionate, no doubt for the benefit of the servants, but it left Venetia flustered and hot and reminded her vividly of his lovemaking. And just now, she was glad for the diversion.
“As soon as I speak to Lisle,” Quinn assured her as he accepted his pistol and cane from his butler, “I will return home and give you a report.”
“I will be waiting anxiously. Please, take care.”
When he was gone, Venetia turned away from the door instead of watching him descend the front steps and enter his waiting carriage. She was firmly resolved to control her trepidation and shake the worry that she was possibly sending him to his death.
She told herself she oughtn’t feel ashamed of her fear for Quinn, or disconcerted that she felt such a strong alliance with him, even if they weren’t true man and wife. It was only reasonable that the threat of danger bound the two of them together. And it was all right that she wouldn’t breathe easily until he returned home to her safe and sound.
—
It was difficult, Quinn thought as he settled into his carriage, to leave Venetia like that, looking tousled and drowsy and heartrendingly beautiful, having just arisen from her bed.
A bed he regrettably hadn’t shared.
As the vehicle began to move forward, a searing memory flashed through his mind of their lovemaking in the cave that last day in Somerset:
Venetia’s expres
sion full of dazed wonder and urgency as he moved inside her.