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Authors: Kieran Kramer
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gaze resolute. “I need
to know if you were after Lord Westdale’s talisman that day you came upon us being
robbed. I must know.”
“I did want the talisman, yes,” James confessed. “But then I found out others were
after it as well. I followed those thugs with the intention of disbanding them before
they got to you. But I was too late.”
“Would you have set upon us, as well, had they not been there first?”
“I had every intention of stopping the boys’ carriage and politely requesting the
talisman.
Yes.”
“So you really were a robber.” She sounded horribly disappointed.
He reached for her hand and held it tight. It was becoming a delicious habit. “I never
would have allowed the distressing events that happened to you that day to occur.
I’d have been brief, polite, but demanding. But when I saw how traumatized all of
you were, I couldn’t do it.”
He could tell she was listening intently as she watched the flickering flames of the
fire.
“It was the one time that I truly failed in my mission.” Her fingers felt small and
delicate in his grip, the French lace at her cuffs a tantalizing reminder of her femininity.
“But when I saw you”—she tore her gaze away from the hearth and looked at him—“when
I saw you running from the girls’ carriage, your hair flying out behind you, your
face determined to save the day and get that pistol from beneath the horses’ hooves—”
He gave a short laugh. “—something twisted in my heart. I knew instinctively that
the best thing to do at that point was be a hero to you, that brave young girl throwing caution to the wind. And to your friends. Not worry
about the talisman. Retrieving it would have to wait.”
Michael came in with the tea, and Eleanor thanked him profusely before he left. Without
demurring, she poured James a cup in silence and then one for herself, the perfect
lady of the house despite her irregular choice of attire.
“Would you care for a little brandy in yours?” James reached for a decanter on a nearby
shelf. “It might help.”
“Why not?” She gave a shaky laugh.
He poured a dollop into her cup. Together, they sat a few minutes sipping their tea,
he at her feet, both of them facing the fire—and dare he think it?—enjoying each other’s
company.
It was almost too much to bear, knowing he could turn, push the fabric of her cape
and night rail up her leg, and press a kiss to her calf—she was that close. That tempting.
He may have been imagining it, but as the seconds passed, the ambiance went from cozy
to tantalizingly intimate.
“Eleanor—,” he said without looking at her.
“Yes?”
He had to tell her how much he longed to kiss her. But it would require turning. Looking
directly at her.
Speaking the truth.
From his heart.
He swiveled his shoulders. “There’s something I must tell you—”
“I, too,” she said into the charged atmosphere, and put her cup and saucer on the
nearby tea tray. “I have the talisman.”
All his planned words slipped away.
“Do you?” He heard the croak in his throat.
“Does it mean that much?” she whispered.
“Yes. You don’t know how much.” But not as much as she did. Nothing mattered as much
as she did.
She retrieved the primitive copper circle from her reticule and handed it to him.
When their fingers touched, they both paused.
Did she feel it, too? That there was something between them? Something momentous,
even vital?
“I hope it’s what you need,” she said. “For your long-delayed mission.”
“It is,” he said. “Thank you.”
The crackle of the fire in the hearth was the only sound in the room. Her expression
was vulnerable. Brave. Honest. And she was beautiful because of who she was, he thought—even
apart from the fact that she was a classic English rose.
Something powerful and mysterious—something that almost frightened him—pulled him
toward her.
She had it all
to know if you were after Lord Westdale’s talisman that day you came upon us being
robbed. I must know.”
“I did want the talisman, yes,” James confessed. “But then I found out others were
after it as well. I followed those thugs with the intention of disbanding them before
they got to you. But I was too late.”
“Would you have set upon us, as well, had they not been there first?”
“I had every intention of stopping the boys’ carriage and politely requesting the
talisman.
Yes.”
“So you really were a robber.” She sounded horribly disappointed.
He reached for her hand and held it tight. It was becoming a delicious habit. “I never
would have allowed the distressing events that happened to you that day to occur.
I’d have been brief, polite, but demanding. But when I saw how traumatized all of
you were, I couldn’t do it.”
He could tell she was listening intently as she watched the flickering flames of the
fire.
“It was the one time that I truly failed in my mission.” Her fingers felt small and
delicate in his grip, the French lace at her cuffs a tantalizing reminder of her femininity.
“But when I saw you”—she tore her gaze away from the hearth and looked at him—“when
I saw you running from the girls’ carriage, your hair flying out behind you, your
face determined to save the day and get that pistol from beneath the horses’ hooves—”
He gave a short laugh. “—something twisted in my heart. I knew instinctively that
the best thing to do at that point was be a hero to you, that brave young girl throwing caution to the wind. And to your friends. Not worry
about the talisman. Retrieving it would have to wait.”
Michael came in with the tea, and Eleanor thanked him profusely before he left. Without
demurring, she poured James a cup in silence and then one for herself, the perfect
lady of the house despite her irregular choice of attire.
“Would you care for a little brandy in yours?” James reached for a decanter on a nearby
shelf. “It might help.”
“Why not?” She gave a shaky laugh.
He poured a dollop into her cup. Together, they sat a few minutes sipping their tea,
he at her feet, both of them facing the fire—and dare he think it?—enjoying each other’s
company.
It was almost too much to bear, knowing he could turn, push the fabric of her cape
and night rail up her leg, and press a kiss to her calf—she was that close. That tempting.
He may have been imagining it, but as the seconds passed, the ambiance went from cozy
to tantalizingly intimate.
“Eleanor—,” he said without looking at her.
“Yes?”
He had to tell her how much he longed to kiss her. But it would require turning. Looking
directly at her.
Speaking the truth.
From his heart.
He swiveled his shoulders. “There’s something I must tell you—”
“I, too,” she said into the charged atmosphere, and put her cup and saucer on the
nearby tea tray. “I have the talisman.”
All his planned words slipped away.
“Do you?” He heard the croak in his throat.
“Does it mean that much?” she whispered.
“Yes. You don’t know how much.” But not as much as she did. Nothing mattered as much
as she did.
She retrieved the primitive copper circle from her reticule and handed it to him.
When their fingers touched, they both paused.
Did she feel it, too? That there was something between them? Something momentous,
even vital?
“I hope it’s what you need,” she said. “For your long-delayed mission.”
“It is,” he said. “Thank you.”
The crackle of the fire in the hearth was the only sound in the room. Her expression
was vulnerable. Brave. Honest. And she was beautiful because of who she was, he thought—even
apart from the fact that she was a classic English rose.
Something powerful and mysterious—something that almost frightened him—pulled him
toward her.
She had it all
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