"I'll check, but it's unlikely we'll find much by that route. This is, after all, Newmarket, a place that abounds in inns and taverns, and that attracts its fair share of shady characters, most of whom aren't local."
Flick grimaced and looked forward-they'd ambled through the gardens. The stables lay ahead, framed by a series of wooden arches over which wisteria grew. Stepping onto the path leading beneath the arches, she mused, "This contact-who would he be? One of the syndicate, or another pawn?"
"Not one of the syndicate." Demon strolled beside her, his strides long and lazy, his hands, somewhat surprisingly, in his trouser pockets. His gaze was on the gravel. "Who ever they are, the syndicate won't want for money, and the last thing they'd risk is exposure. No-the man will be a hireling. Perhaps a permanent employee. That, for us, would be best."
"So once we identify him, we'll have the best chance of following him back to his masters?"
Demon nodded. Then he looked up and stopped. They'd reached the end of the arches.
Flick glanced up, squinting into the sunlight that shone from over his shoulder. He was looking at her; she couldn't see his features, but she could feel his gaze, could sense his sheer physical presence through every pore. She was used to working with large horses; standing near him reminded her of them-he exuded the same aura of potent physical power, which could, if provoked, be dangerous. Luckily, neither horses nor he posed any danger to her. Inwardly lamenting her continuing sensitivity, she raised a hand and shaded her eyes.
And looked into his.
Her breath caught; for an instant, she felt disoriented-unclear who she was, who he was, and how things really were. Then something shifted in the blue; she blinked, and regained her mental footing. Yet he continued to look at her-not precisely seriously, but intently, the expression in his eyes one she neither recognized nor understood.
She was about to raise a brow when, his gaze still steady on her face, he asked, "Now you know the full story of Dillon's involvement, do you regret agreeing to help him?"
"Regret?" Considering the question, she raised both brows. "I don't think the concept applies. I've always helped him-he's made something of a career of getting into unexpectedly complicated scrapes." She shrugged. "I always imagined he'd grow out of them eventually. He hasn't yet."
Demon considered her face, her open expression, the honesty in her soft blue eyes. They didn't tell him how she felt about Dillon; given her apparent resistance to him, he had to wonder if Dillon was the cause. When she and Dillon were together, she was the dominant party-the one in charge. She'd grown accustomed to Dillon being dependent on her-it was possible she liked it that way. There was no doubt she liked to lead.
Which was all very well, but…
"So," she blinked up at him, "what do you imagine will happen next?"
He raised his brows. "Probably not a lot." At least, not in his stables. "However, if you do stumble on any clue, I will, of course, expect to be notified immediately."
"Of course." She lowered her hand and turned toward the stables. "Where will you be?"
Investigating far and wide. "Send a message to the farm-the Shephards always know where to find me."
"I'll send word if I hear anything." She stopped at the edge of the garden and held out her hand. "I'll see you at the stable in a few hours."
Demon took her hand. He lifted his gaze to her eyes-and fell into the blue. Her fingers lay, trusting, quiescent in his grasp. He considered raising them, considered brushing a lingering kiss upon them, considered…
Madness and uncertainty clashed.
The moment passed.
He released her hand. With an elegant nod, he turned and, jaw setting, strode for the stables, more conscious with every stride of a demonic desire to capture a Botticelli angel-and take her to his bed.
Chapter 4
The next days passed uneventfully; Flick swallowed her impatience and doggedly watched, doggedly listened. She rode morning and afternoon track work every day, then slouched about the stable for as long as she could in the mornings, and until all the stable lads left in the evenings. After three days, the only suspicious character she'd spotted had proved to be one of the lads' cousins, visiting from the north. The only surprising information she'd heard concerned the activities of some redheaded barmaid.
As he'd intimated, Demon had attended all the track work religiously-he'd watched her religiously, too; her sensitivity to his gaze grew more acute by the day. She'd sighed with relief when, within her hearing that morning, he'd told Carruthers that he'd be spending the afternoon about the other stables looking over the competition.
So at three o'clock, she left the General nodding over his records and set off on Jessamy for the cottage-Felicity garbed in her blue velvet riding habit-feeling less trepidatious, certainly more sure of herself. No longer wary of what she might face at the stable.
Dillon was in the clearing when she rode up, the cob placidly munching nearby. She reined in and slid out of her saddle, turned on her heel and marched into the cottage to change-without a single glance at Dillon. He'd have the cob saddled and bridled, and Jessamy unsaddled and tethered, by the time she came out.
She hadn't spoken to him since she'd learned the truth. Every time she'd come by, he'd tried to catch her eye, to smile and make amends.
Struggling out of her velvet skirts, Flick humphed. Dillon was being excessively careful around her-he could be careful for a while more. She hadn't forgiven him for deceiving her-she hadn't forgiven herself for being so gullible. She should have guessed; she knew he wasn't that innocent any more, but the idea that he could have been so comprehensively stupid hadn't entered her head.
Smoothing her curls, she crammed her cap over them. She was exceedingly tired of putting right Dillon's wrongs, of easing his way, but…
She sighed. She would continue to shield Dillon if the alternative was upsetting the General. Distress wasn't good for him, as Dr. Thurgood had made very clear. Assuring his tranquility was also one way she could repay him for all he had given her.