"You will."
With fluttering hands, she pushed at the curtains. He reached over her head and drew them wide.
She tugged at the sash. To no avail.
He stepped behind her and reached for the handles, one on either of the pane's lower frame.
Trapping her between his arms, between the window and him. His fingers brushed hers, clasped about the handles. She sucked in a breath and snatched her hands away. Then froze as she realized he surrounded her.
Slowly, he raised the sash-all the way up.
As he straightened, she straightened, too. Her spine stiff, she turned her head and looked him in the eye. "I'll bid you a good night."
There was ice and frost in her words. Turning to the window, she sat on the sill; behind her, Demon smiled, slowly, intently.
She swung her legs over and slipped into the darkness. "Good-bye."
Her voice floated back to him; in seconds, she'd become a shadow among many, and then she was gone.
Demon's smile deepened, his lips curving as triumphantly as hers had. She wasn't averse to him-the signs had been there, clear for him to read. He didn't know why she'd pulled back, why she'd shaken free of his hold, but it would be easy to draw her back to him.
And then…
He stood at the window for a full five minutes, a smile of anticipation on his lips, staring into the night and dreaming-before reality struck.
Like a bolt.
It transfixed him. Chilled him.
It effectively doused his fire.
Face hardening, he stood in the middle of his parlor and wondered what the hell had got into him.
He rose before dawn and headed for the racecourse, for his stables and Carruthers, who was not at all pleased to learn that he'd lost the services of the best work rider he'd ever employed. For once declining to remain and watch his string exercise, Demon left Carruthers grumbling and set his horses ambling back down the road to his farm. The same road led to the cottage.
Fine mist wreathed the hedgerows and blanketed the meadows; it turned golden as dawn tinged the sky. Flick appeared through the gilded haze, a sleepy stable lad atop the plodding cob, heading in for the start of a new day. Demon reined in his bays and waited for her to reach him.
By the time she halted the cob beside his curricle, she was frowning; deep suspicion glowed in her eyes. He nodded, ineffably polite. "I've tendered your resignation to Carruthers-he doesn't expect to see you again."
Her frown deepened; to her credit, she didn't ask why. "But-"
"The matter's simple. If you hadn't resigned, I would have had to dismiss you." He trapped her gaze and raised a brow. "I thought you'd prefer to resign."
Flick studied his eyes, his face. "Put like that, I don't have much choice."
The ends of his lips lifted fractionally. "None."
"What story did you tell Carruthers?"
"That your ailing mother slipped away, and you'll be joining your aunt's household in London."
"So I'm not even supposed to be in the vicinity?"
"Precisely."
She humphed, but without much heat; they'd found Dillon's contact-she was already thinking ahead. "What about identifying the contact? Have your men turned up anything?"
Because she was watching closely, she saw his hesitation-the swift weighing of his options.