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Authors: Alexandra Benedict
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slumped, in an oak chair, arms folded across his chest, frowning. He peered at Amy through the parted bedchamber door. She was seated on a stool at her dressing table, oblivious to his darkening mood. He observed her with growing impatience as she brushed her lengthy locks, dolling herself up for an evening shift at the gentlemen’s club, where she’d have to gratify another party of overbearing patrons. And thanks to him, she’d get half her usual earnings for her trouble.
“Well, I’m off.” She grabbed a shawl and draped it over her head and shoulders as she entered the sitting room, and looked at him pointedly with her sharp green eyes. “I’ll be home late, so I suggest you get some rest.”
Rest? He snorted. He lifted out of the seat and approached the front entrance.
“Where are you going, Edward?”
“I’m escorting you to the club.”
Amy’s eyes swelled. “No.”
He ignored the woman’s brusque retort and opened the door. “You were attacked two nights ago.”
She sighed. “I appreciate your concern, but I don’t need an escort.”
“I think you do,” he returned evenly.
“I have been going to the club alone every night for almost three years, and there’s no reason for me to change my habits now. Besides, when you regain your memory and return home, I’ll still be working at theclub. You can’t protect me all the time—and I don’t want to depend on you.”
He eyed her mulishly. “I can protect you tonight.”
“I’ll be fine, really.” She pried his fingers off the door’s latch. “Madame Rafaramanjaka knows about the attack. She’ll make sure the guards are more vigilant.”
Edward took her hand and squeezed her warm fingers, sensing her rapid pulse. “Do you really think I’m going to sit here idly, while you walk the streets alone at night?”
“Are you daft?” She glowered at him. “I just told you, I’ve been walking the streets alone at night for almost three years. I’ve yet to meet my Maker.” She wrested her fingers away, lips pinched. “You’ll never get inside the club, anyway.”
“I got inside two nights ago.”
She looked him over in a quick, keen manner. “How did you get inside the club?” She waved her fingers in a dismissive gesture. “Perhaps you sneaked inside the establishment.”
“You see? You have poor security at the club if I was permitted within its walls.”
“You have to stay here and rest, Edward.”
“I can at least escort you to the club’s door.”
“No!” She flounced off and entered the passageway. “If Madame Rafaramanjaka thinks I have a beau, she’ll dismiss me from the club. Stay here, Edward. Please!”
She skirted through the darkened hall.
He stared after her bustling figure, the blood in his veins pounding. He took one step back inside the apartment, reached around the door to locate the iron key on the hook, then shut and locked the entrance, skulking in the shadows after Amy.
Edward followed her to the impressive establishment in Covent Garden. There he waited for her in the streets for more than an hour, restless. He waited for her to come out again, so he could walk her home, but as he witnessed more and more posh gentlemen flood the club’s premises, the irritability in his blood strengthened, and he itched with the profound need to smash their aquiline noses into the pavement.
Edward crossed the street with wide strides. He had sneaked inside the club the other night. How hard would it be for him to sneak inside again?
Slowly he climbed the three stone steps leading to the front door and stealthily attempted to part the main entranceway. The thick door was secured.
No, it wouldn’t be so easy, he supposed. He headed down the steps and decided to make his way around to the back of the building. Perhaps there was another door there? The sound of heavy iron hinges rooted him to the paved walkway, though.
He glanced over his shoulder at the surly-looking guard peering at him suspiciously
“Well, I’m off.” She grabbed a shawl and draped it over her head and shoulders as she entered the sitting room, and looked at him pointedly with her sharp green eyes. “I’ll be home late, so I suggest you get some rest.”
Rest? He snorted. He lifted out of the seat and approached the front entrance.
“Where are you going, Edward?”
“I’m escorting you to the club.”
Amy’s eyes swelled. “No.”
He ignored the woman’s brusque retort and opened the door. “You were attacked two nights ago.”
She sighed. “I appreciate your concern, but I don’t need an escort.”
“I think you do,” he returned evenly.
“I have been going to the club alone every night for almost three years, and there’s no reason for me to change my habits now. Besides, when you regain your memory and return home, I’ll still be working at theclub. You can’t protect me all the time—and I don’t want to depend on you.”
He eyed her mulishly. “I can protect you tonight.”
“I’ll be fine, really.” She pried his fingers off the door’s latch. “Madame Rafaramanjaka knows about the attack. She’ll make sure the guards are more vigilant.”
Edward took her hand and squeezed her warm fingers, sensing her rapid pulse. “Do you really think I’m going to sit here idly, while you walk the streets alone at night?”
“Are you daft?” She glowered at him. “I just told you, I’ve been walking the streets alone at night for almost three years. I’ve yet to meet my Maker.” She wrested her fingers away, lips pinched. “You’ll never get inside the club, anyway.”
“I got inside two nights ago.”
She looked him over in a quick, keen manner. “How did you get inside the club?” She waved her fingers in a dismissive gesture. “Perhaps you sneaked inside the establishment.”
“You see? You have poor security at the club if I was permitted within its walls.”
“You have to stay here and rest, Edward.”
“I can at least escort you to the club’s door.”
“No!” She flounced off and entered the passageway. “If Madame Rafaramanjaka thinks I have a beau, she’ll dismiss me from the club. Stay here, Edward. Please!”
She skirted through the darkened hall.
He stared after her bustling figure, the blood in his veins pounding. He took one step back inside the apartment, reached around the door to locate the iron key on the hook, then shut and locked the entrance, skulking in the shadows after Amy.
Edward followed her to the impressive establishment in Covent Garden. There he waited for her in the streets for more than an hour, restless. He waited for her to come out again, so he could walk her home, but as he witnessed more and more posh gentlemen flood the club’s premises, the irritability in his blood strengthened, and he itched with the profound need to smash their aquiline noses into the pavement.
Edward crossed the street with wide strides. He had sneaked inside the club the other night. How hard would it be for him to sneak inside again?
Slowly he climbed the three stone steps leading to the front door and stealthily attempted to part the main entranceway. The thick door was secured.
No, it wouldn’t be so easy, he supposed. He headed down the steps and decided to make his way around to the back of the building. Perhaps there was another door there? The sound of heavy iron hinges rooted him to the paved walkway, though.
He glanced over his shoulder at the surly-looking guard peering at him suspiciously
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